In the Dark by Melody Taylor Page B

myself if I turned my head it would be
a bigger give-away than staying still. I turned around.
    No one was
there.
    “Ian.”
    I jumped and bit
my lip so hard I got blood, and a little scream still squeaked out.
Sebastian stood behind me, eyes flashing with laughter.
    “Don’t
do that!” I hissed at him, and sat down. My legs had started
trembling too hard to stay squatting.
    “My
apologies.” He sounded absolutely sincere – except for
those laughing eyes. I glared at my boots.
    “The house
appears safe to me,” he said. “I saw no footprints aside
from those made last night and no other forced entrances or exits.
All of the ground floor rooms seem clear. There are rooms in the
basement, I take it?”
    “Bedrooms.
Mine and Kent’s.”
    He nodded. “Be
quiet when we go inside.”
    I met his eyes,
dark now, and puckered my eyebrows. “Now?”
    He nodded. He
thought there might be someone in there, and he wanted to go in and
see. Sounded like insanity to me, but I figured a hardened killer was
probably at least semi-insane. I got up on shaky legs, took one deep
breath and let it out.
    “All
right,” I said.
    He turned and
led me across the yard to the broken window the woman had used to get
in last night. It led into the dining room. Outside the window, he
pointed to himself, then me – him first, then I follow. I
nodded. He grabbed the sill and hoisted himself through with barely a
whisper of fabric, all in one smooth motion. Like a liquid shadow.
    I saw him bob
back up from his landing, then hauled myself up and through. I was
not as graceful. Broken glass crunched and fell inside, hitting the
floor with a musical tinkling sound. My boot hooked on the frame as I
slid through, so when I tried to put my legs under me, the one stayed
up in the window. I fell straight to the floor.
    Thud.
    One foot still
hooked on the window frame, lying on a now-bruised hip, I cringed.
Sebastian didn’t even look at me, which surprised me. I
expected a glare. Instead he watched the door, head to one side,
listening. I unhooked my foot and got off the floor as quietly as I
could. Sebastian put his finger to his lips, head still cocked.
    Well, duh.
    We stayed still
like that for a long, long time. Longer than I would have. Did he
hear something I couldn’t? I tried to listen with him, turning
my head to get a better angle. Nothing.
    My knees creaked
from holding still so long. I tried to remember the sounds the house
always made, listened for them. I heard the clock in the kitchen
ticking if I really listened hard. Gypsy ran up the stairs from the
basement, a soft patter-patter accompanied by the tinkling of the
bell on her collar. I shook my head.
    Sebastian
finally lost his listening pose. He turned around to give me a once
over. “Hurt?” he said in a near-whisper.
    I shook my head.
Just my pride. “I didn’t hear anything,” I said.
“Why did you listen so long?”
    He waved a hand
at Gypsy as she trotted into the room. “I heard movement below.
I thought it was your cat, but I wanted to be sure.”
    “You heard
her all the way downstairs?”
    He nodded and
turned to leave the room. I gathered Gypsy up in my arms and
followed. She purred, rubbing her head against my chin. “How
could you hear her all the way down in our rooms?”
    He headed for
the front door. “How much did Kent tell you about us?”
    I stopped
petting Gypsy. “Why?”
    He checked the
front door, running his fingers along the outside edge, examining the
doorknob. I didn’t know what he was looking for, so I stayed
out of the way.
    “Tell me
what you know of your new condition.” His voice was still low,
but closer to a normal speaking level. He turned his attention to the
windows.
    “Everything?”
    “Yes.”
    I bit my lip.
Death hadn’t been much different from life, really. Except for
the blood.
    “I know
we’re dead. No pulse, no breathing, no body heat or body odor.
We absorb blood through our stomachs the way a frog absorbs