Friends with bite E-Book

M. J. Wallenda

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 458

Beschreibung

16-year-old James Allington moves with his parents to the supposedly quiet small town of Greenfield in Massachusetts/USA. As soon as he arrives, the teenager witnesses a crime and is gradually drawn into a swamp of mysterious things. James finds out that he lives among vampires and werewolves. His new friends Riley, Kieran and Cassie also have dark secrets. The teens must trust each other to banish an ancient curse or Riley will die. An unequal battle begins against a powerful opponent and against time.

Leseprobe

© S. Wallenda

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

It's the middle of the night, midnight to be exact. I'm woken from my sleep by a mega thunderstorm outside. It is the first time I wake up in this house. We've moved to a small town called Greenfield. It is in Franklin County, New England. More specifically, in Massachusetts, on the border of New Hampshire.

Before that we lived in a mini village in the middle of nowhere. A road led into the village and out again two minutes later. There was nothing to do there except hang out in your room. Pretty boring for a 16 year old kid.

I never made any real friends in the village. Only farmers live there, most of them related to each other. New villagers are treated like strangers and watched for years before they somehow become part of the stepchild existence. At least that's how it seemed to me. No matter. Now we're gone.

My father applied for the vacant position of sheriff of Greenfield/Massachusetts and got the job. No wonder. He was a really good cop in Boston before that. I would have given him the sheriff's job, too.

It's a cool thing to be the son of a police chief. My mom also got a job offer from Greenfield and took it. She is a doctor and now works at the Greenfield Baystate Medical Center Hospital.

As for me, I'm also saving a lot of time every day. I no longer have to spend as much time on the school bus as I did in that godforsaken farming town. Recently, I've also been able to sneak around in my car. Secretly, because I don't have a driver's license yet. My parents have two cars. A white BMW and a black BMW - the whole family has a thing for German cars. Sometimes I affectionately call the German cars Black and White.

There's another car here right now. It's Uncle Joe's sports car, a white Porsche, of course. He has it with us because Joe is going on a long trip with his wife and is afraid his car might be stolen. Of course, no one is allowed to use the Porsche. The thing is sacred and any scratch on it would be a disaster.

Dad currently works from Monday to Friday until about half past four or five in the evening. Mom does the same. But she also has to cover different shifts.

Since they leave the house before me and come home after me, I can drive the Porsche to school. That's super cool. Now I can hear the rain pattering on the roof and drumming on the window. I usually like it when it's pouring outside, with lightning and thunder. That's when I sleep best. But today is different. Today the raindrops are somehow louder and heavier. The rumble of thunder sounds very close and therefore very scary.

Is it always this loud here? Or is it just today?

I imagine huge puddles forming outside and more and more water pouring down.

Water. At this thought I feel how dry my mouth actually is. My tongue almost sticks to the roof of my mouth. I'm thirsty. So I decide to go to the kitchen to get something to drink. Before I go downstairs, I look out the window. We live on the edge of town, right next to the forest. When it's stormy, it looks really dark, even mysterious. The trees sway in the wind. When there is lightning, their outlines take on eerie, dancing shapes. Almost like little monsters, they jump and leap back and forth, chained to their roots.

I look down from the treetops. Another rumble of thunder pierces the night, followed by a long, jagged flash of lightning and another clap of thunder. For a moment I thought I saw something in the shimmering light of the flash. I stared intently into the darkness of the night.

Someone's standing there with their car, it rushes through my head. I start, jump. Then I catch myself. Curious, I use the next flash to find the spot where I made my observation.

Yes, a car.

The headlights are off. Only the interior lighting comes on for a moment as a person gets out of the car.

A man.

At least that's what I assume, because the figure looks strong. I recognize the make of the car.

Wow, a Mercedes. Are there more German car enthusiasts in Greenfield?

The figure slams the car door, slings something over his shoulder, and runs quickly into the woods.

What's that guy got? A rug?

"Something is wrong here," I say quietly.

Is he carrying a dead body?

My thoughts race wildly.

What is this strange guy doing in the woods in the middle of the night?

I step back from the window and sneak out of my room so as not to wake my parents, who are sleeping on the same floor. Instead of turning on the light, I grab my flashlight and go down to the kitchen. I close the door behind me and turn on the light. Then I take a few sips from the faucet and wipe my mouth with the dishcloth that was lying around.

My mom would tell me again that the dishtowel is only for washing up and that I should use a glass, blah blah blah. My dad just had a couple of days off. Actually, he got them because of the move, but I hope he still has enough time to finally fix my computer. Unlike me, he knows his stuff. When it comes to swapping out graphics cards, upgrading the ram, and stuff like that, I'm completely clueless. Apart from that, tech nics is my thing.

I take another sip and go back to . I'm very careful with the first step. It creaks. After that I can walk normally. In my room, I turn on the light and go to my bed. I fluff my pillow, put the flashlight back in my nightstand drawer, lie down and cover up.

Click

I reach for the light switch and it's dark again. My eyes quickly adapt to the darkness. My eyes wander around the room. Past my posters, along the bookcase, down to my school bag and finally to my guitar. My parents gave it to me for Christmas the year before last.

The storm outside is still raging. I look at my watch and watch the fluorescent second hand make its rounds. It is now 00:15. When I was younger and woke up at this time, I was always afraid. But not anymore. Now it's just a time like any other and no longer a witching hour.

My eyes fall on my satchel again. Tomorrow is the last day of summer vacation. After that, school starts.

The day after tomorrow, I'll be the new kid. Then I'll attend Greenfield High School and it will soon become clear whether I'm the new kid on the block or the alien new kid like in the farm town. The alien in the country, so to speak.

I know that first impressions determine whether it will be a good or a difficult year. So it's up to me to be cool or uncool to my classmates.

I have a plan for that, too. I want to drive my uncle's Porsche to school. Just for fun. But I don't want to say anything about the car so I don't seem like a show-off. I just want to look casual. My mom will be at the hospital and my dad will be out running errands. So I can sneak the Porsche out of the garage and make my plan a reality.

Great thing.

With these thoughts I fall asleep. In the background, the rain is still drumming hard against my window. But the rumbling thunder is becoming less frequent. The storm seems to be losing its power.

I am rudely awakened. Someone is loudly slamming the front door. I rub my sleepy eyes and turn over again. But I can no longer think about sleeping. Too many things are running through my head.

Who left the house now?

Mom and Dad don't have to work today.

Hm, maybe the wind?

There was quite a storm last night. Or has my father been alerted? After all, he's the sheriff.

I turn to my alarm clock, which reads 8:23. Although 9:00 a.m. is my standard time to get up on vacation, I want to know who left the house and slammed the door in such a hurry. Also, my bladder is clenching.

Too much water at midnight, I think.

So I get up and go to the bathroom. Then I shower and get dressed. I make my bed and saunter down the stairs. Mom is sitting at the breakfast table reading the newspaper. "Good morning," she greets me.

"Good morning," I mumble.

I made myself a hot chocolate and sat down at the table. "Where's daddy anyway?" I ask.

"He had to go to the office."

"Why? It's his day off. Did something happen?" "He got a call from one of his deputies. Somebody found a body in the woods. Terrible," she says excitedly, her hand shaking a little as she lifts her coffee cup to take a sip. She sips just a little and puts the cup down.

I can tell immediately that she is very excited. "A body?" I ask, immediately thinking of the man carrying something into the woods.

Mom clears her throat and looks at me. "A very strange thing. The strange thing is that the body is completely drained of blood. As if it had been sucked dry."

"Like a vampire or slaughtered like a butcher?" I add, not really believing what I've heard.

"Like a vampire. That sums it up perfectly. That's what they told Dad on the phone. Funny, isn't it?"

I frown at him. "Hm, yeah."

As I make myself some peanut butter toast, I consider telling them about my observation, but decide against it for now.

My mom clears the dishes and goes upstairs. The song on the radio is replaced by a commercial, then the host chats. Finally, the news comes on. Trivial chatter that doesn't particularly interest me. But suddenly I pricked up my ears.

"...and now our reporter on the scene. William Holden reporting live from Greenfield, Massachusetts. A bloodless body was found there this morning. William Holden, do you read me?"

It cracks, then the reporter speaks.

"This is William Holden, your local man. You're listening to NFC Radio Franklin County, your station for everything! A tragedy must have happened here in the woods of Greenfield. The question is, are there vampires? But first, let's get to the facts. According to the spokesperson for the local sheriff's office, joggers discovered a dead woman in the bushes early this morning. They immediately called the sheriff's office. An emergency physician confirmed the death of the victim, who was about 20 to 25 years old. The body was taken to the Institute of Forensic Medicine. The cause of death will be determined there. The case is already a mystery. According to initial findings, the body is completely drained of blood. There are two small wounds on the neck. Otherwise, the body shows no signs of injury. The new sheriff of Greenfield commented: ..." Now I hear my father's voice.

Wow.

"Mom, Dad's on the radio!" I call, and then I listen to what Daddy is saying.

"We have to find out who it is. We will begin an investigation immediately and check all missing persons cases."

The reporter asks, "Sheriff Allington, are you turning this case over to the FBI?"

Addy replies: "No. The crime falls under my jurisdiction and there is no need to involve the feds at this time."

Reporter: "I have one last question. The body is said to be completely drained of blood. What do you think about that?"

The father replies, completely relaxed: "Let's wait for the results of the autopsy, then we can talk further. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a murder to solve."

A commercial, followed by an oldie, blares from the speakers. Again I wonder if this man I saw last night could have something to do with it.

Was he really a vampire? What a load of rubbish.

I mean, vampires don't even exist.

Or do they?

I clear the table and head for my room.

Miss Piddy, my neighbor at the time, used to tell me stories about vampires and that she knew where one lived. She also gave me a small stone with a beautiful red glow. She said it was very valuable, but not in terms of money. She said it was very valuable, but not in terms of money, and that I would need it someday. Since then that stone has been lying in my room.

After a while, my mother did not want me to meet her anymore because everyone thought she was crazy. I followed my mother's instructions. The old neighbor was so creepy and I never really felt comfortable around her anyway.

Vampires, I thought. Was she right after all?

I make a decision. I have to find out more about these bloodsuckers. There has to be a library in Greenfield. I go to my office, sit down at my PC and turn it on. Then I type in the search term Greenfield Library. Moments later, I arrive at the Greenfield Library's home page and see the address and hours. A quick glance at Google Maps and I know the fastest way to get there. I'm in luck. The library is only an estimated ten minutes walk away. I want to go right now.

"Mom, I'm going to go explore the neighborhood," I call out as I pull on my sneakers. While she's still saying, "Okay," I scurry through the door and pull it into the lock.

Google Maps was right. It takes me about ten minutes to reach the library. It is housed in an old brick building and is larger than I expected. The signage for the different sections is good. I quickly find my way around and head for the section I'm looking for.

Local History.

Excited, I walk past the rows of books.

Damn it! Not what I'm looking for.

I try Fantasy and Science Fiction again.

Another flop. Everything is just fiction. No non-fiction or anything.

But it's also somehow logical. Vampires don't exist. At least not in the way we think of them. But it's all just an invention of Bram Stoker, I think.

I decide to stop searching for the time being and go to . I look at my watch outside the library.

11:00 a.m. and I haven't really done anything today. I feel like a real adventurer, taking every chance to experience something exciting. But what can you do in a city where you've just moved and don't know anyone?

Suddenly I had an idea. At first it flew through my head and I almost dismissed it, but with each passing second it returns and takes shape.

I go to the scene of the crime and look around.

I mean, what could be more exciting than visiting a fresh crime scene where a vampire might have killed someone and drained them? I'm sure my dad is already done with the forensics, and when the crowd at the edge of the forest has died down, I can have a look around undisturbed. Convinced that this is a good idea, I set off.

On the way to the forest I get a little worried. What if the guy is lurking there?

After all, they say that the killer always returns to the scene of the crime - . Goose bumps. They start on the back of my neck and I can feel the hairs standing up there. Then it goes down my back to the tips of my toes. Despite the looming fear, I keep walking. I tell myself not to go too deep into the woods and to watch every step I take.

There are still two police cars parked at the edge of the forest. One of them is parked right where I saw the suspicious Mercedes last night.

But the driver of the police car didn't cover any tracks, I think. The heavy rain did that. It washed away everything that would have indicated the type and size of the tires.

The forest looks quite mysterious. Suddenly I'm not sure it's as safe as I thought.

I entered the forest. It smells of leaves and rotten wood, mixed with a breeze of healthy, fresh forest air, if you can even smell it as such. The ground is still quite wet and it's noticeably cooler in the forest. I'm still wondering if I should close my leather jacket when I hear soft footsteps. Leaves rustling and a branch breaking. I'm startled and quickly scurry to the side to hide behind a thick trunk.

Splat

Something cold hits my neck.

How disgusting. Water is still dripping from the trees. At least I hope it's a drop of water.

Oh God, don't let it be bird droppings, I think and reach for it.

Phew, lucky me. Only water.

I am relieved.

The footsteps come closer and closer. I recognize two men in uniform.

They are deputies. But I stayed behind the tree, because I had no business here. My father had told me that a thousand times when we watched crime shows on TV. The deputies were talking.

"The crime scene is taking forever again today. The new sheriff seems to know a thing or two about it."

"He was a homicide detective in Boston." "And then he moves here to the sticks and becomes sheriff?" "His wife works as a doctor at the hospital."

"Then it makes sense. Besides, being sheriff is a great job." "Then why didn't you run for sheriff?"

They both laugh.

"Forget it. Come on, let's hurry. The boss told us to get coffee and donuts for all the emergency services."

The voices die down. Finally I hear the slamming of car doors and the hum of an engine.

There are definitely more police there, and it sounded like it was going to take quite a while. So I decide to turn around and come back the next day. I'm sure no one will be here then.

Back home, I disappear into my room and play on my parents' laptop. I borrowed it because my own PC still isn't working properly. When my dad comes home later, I immediately quit the game and run downstairs. Curious as hell, I immediately start bombarding him with questions.

"Hi, Dad! Did you find out anything? Was it really a vampire? What kind of evidence did you find?"

Dad looks at me questioningly. "What a greeting. Well, James, I can't tell you anything, of course, you know that. Police investigations are secret and not for everyone." I make my miserable face. "Daddy," I whine. "I'm not for everyone and you have to say something anyway. I heard your interview on the radio today. They'll be lining up to talk to you soon, and you can tell me what you're telling them. Or do I have to wait until tomorrow and buy a newspaper to find out what my father is working on and what a dangerous place we've moved to?

Dad scratches the back of his head. A good sign. I know my old man.

"That's right. Why not?"

He walks into the kitchen and sits down. Mom joins him. "You two take good care of this. I mean, who you talk to about it and everything." He changes from a lecturing look to a concerned one. "I also want you to be home when it gets dark. Then I won't have to worry, because in the near future I'll probably be in the office more often and have to work some overtime."

"What's wrong?" asks Mom.

"We discovered another body while searching the area where the body was found. It has been there for several days and has also been taken to the forensic department. The pathologist will have to do a thorough autopsy on both of them. I'm waiting for the report before I go public with this, so please don't talk to anyone about it.

We nod.

"I don't believe in coincidences. It's also striking that the second body is also completely drained of blood - at least that's what the doctor at the scene said."

"Oh my God," Mom says. I get goose bumps. What kind of murderous town have we moved to?" I immediately think.

"It's possible - and I'm being very, very careful about this - it's possible that this is a serial killer. If that turns out to be the case, I would have to turn the case over to the FBI, because that would be federal jurisdiction. But the investigation is still in its infancy, and I will be leading the case myself for the time being."

"A vampire?" I ask.

"You've been reading too much crap. Vampires don't exist. At least not these fictional or mythical creatures or whatever you want to call them. You know that yourself. But I'm assuming a mentally disturbed perpetrator or a ritualistic group of perpetrators," he speculates, thinking about what he just said. Then he nods. "Yes," he says finally. "Maybe there were two ritual murders. But as I said: We're at the beginning of the investigation. I have a press conference in two hours and will announce what I've told you. Then we will wait for information from the public and the evaluation of the evidence".

I think about telling Dad about last night. But I decide to keep it to myself for now.

"And what did you do today?" my father wants to know. "I, um, nothing really."

"Were you here the whole time?" he asks.

"No, I was in town briefly. In the library too. I was looking for something to read, but I didn't find anything."

Mom gets up and goes to the stove. She picks up a pot and pours some water. "Dinner's ready," she says. "You can set the table."

I have pasta with tomato sauce. I eat quickly. My detective instincts are aroused.

I really need to know what the Mercedes driver had to do with the body.

After dinner, we cleared the table together. "I'm going to relax a bit by looking at your computer," says Dad, when suddenly the guitar riffs of Hey Joe and the voice of Jimi Hendrix can be heard.

It's the ringtone on Dad's cell phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, looks at the screen, and answers it.

"Hello," he says, listening to the caller. His features turn stony. "Again? ... Where? ... Okay, I'll be right there." He puts the cell phone back in his pocket. He looks at us with a stern and worried expression. "They found another body. It's down by the creek and it was slightly buried there. The heavy rains washed it out. Don't wait for me. It's going to be a long night.

Chapter Two

Beep, beep

The annoyingly shrill beeping of my alarm clock jolts me out of my sleep. I hate that noise because it means both that I didn't sleep in and that I have to go to school. A hand slips out from under the blanket. With my eyes closed, I press a button on the alarm clock.

Only two more minutes, I think sleepily. I turn over again, snuggle back into my pillow, and doze off.

Beep, beep

That stupid alarm. That's what I call the repetition of the alarm. My hand slaps the alarm monster again.

Off!

It's very tempting to stay lying down, but I pull myself up and stand. I immediately think of the first day of school and my super-cool plan to drive Uncle Joe's Porsche there. Dad is busy with the murder cases and drives Black. Mom will drive white to go to the hospital. So I should have free access to the Porsche.

Half lost in thought, I make my way to the bathroom. After a shower I get dressed. A faded t-shirt, ripped jeans and my look is complete. Now I put some wax in my short hair, fiddle with it with my fingers and look at myself in the mirror. Satisfied, I hang my lucky stone necklace around my neck. I got it from my grandmother and I could really use some luck today.

Everything will be fine, I think. One last look at the gel. It fits. I'm going to breakfast.

"Your father's gone again," Mom says and asks, "Do you want me to drive you?"

"No," I mumble, my mouth still full of jam toast. I wash it down with freshly squeezed orange juice and add, "I'll take the bus."

"That's good. I'm already late. Are you sure that won't be a problem?"

"No, it's fine. I have no problem with that."

"Okay. See you tonight and have fun!"

"Bye, Mom."

I've won! My plan is working.

Shortly after Mom drives off in the white BMW, I slip into my leather jacket and sneakers, grab the Porsche key, and walk into the garage.

My heart is pounding as I put the key in the ignition. Uncle Joe has the automatic version of the speedster. That suits me just fine, as these models are easier to drive than the clutch versions.

The sound of the 400+ horsepower engine is awesome.

Wromm, wromm

I step on the accelerator and literally shoot out of the garage onto the road.

"Wow, he's got power under his ass!" I exclaim.

Only the most awesome cars in the world make noises like that, and the Porsche 911 GT3 is definitely one of them.

To be honest, I have to say that I've only driven a black car once, and that was in an old jalopy. It belonged to a friend of mine and we drove around meadows and country roads. But I've never driven on the road. But I've never driven on the road. Especially not in such an expensive car. I have to get out of here before the neighbors notice and ask my parents about it.

I turn to the right and carefully step on the gas.

Fuck! I have to change gears. The speedometer reads kilometers, not miles. What the hell was that? 100 km/h is about 62 mp/h.

I glance at the speedometer and then quickly back to .

I have to slow down.

The speedometer needle has shot up to 100 in a matter of seconds and is slowly coming back down to 80.

Still too fast. Much too fast.

I almost hit a car, manage to brake just in time before a red light, and almost hit a pedestrian on the hood of a car. The older man gives me the finger and yells something behind me that sounds like "You bastard! I continue through the green light. But much slower. Gradually I get a feel for the accelerator and two streets and a traffic light later I'm in control of the Porsche. At least I am convinced that I am in control. It's like taming a wild horse. I am the greatest.

I park in the teachers' parking lot in front of the school, press the gas pedal once more in neutral, to be on the lookout for a lot of people.

Wromm, wromm

Only now do I turn off the engine.

I calmly slam the door shut and push the button to lock it. I push my sunglasses up a little, adjust my leather jacket, and traipse toward the school entrance. To avoid looking fat and like a totally arrogant snob, I move normally. I don't strut around like a supermodel or puff myself up like a rocker.

Hundreds of looks come my way. Most of them from the lower classes, of course. A few teenagers who, judging by their outfits, must feel pretty casual, stare at me regularly. I give them a quick nod, enter the school and look for the blackboard with the lists of names. There I look for my name. I find it and see what class I'm in. I memorized my room number and floor and began my search.

It takes me a long time to find my classroom. In the meantime, the hallways are full of students and, bang, all the doors are closed and I'm standing alone in the hallway.

Pro: I can read the room numbers. Disadvantage: I am definitely late.

Finally, I'm standing in front of the door to my new classroom. Our teacher is Mrs. White. I smile because I remember the white BMW. Then I take a deep breath. This is the moment of all moments.

If I blow it now, I'll be the rag forever.

I open the door. Silence reigns. All eyes are on me. The teacher, I think it's Mrs. White, doesn't look very friendly. She has the look of a startled wild boar and the figure to match.

Oh dear, I am screwed, is my first thought.

That's typical James again. I have the plan of the year and it fails because I'm too scatterbrained to find the classroom. While I'm still searching for the right words, Mrs. Boar-White's death stare hits me again. I open my mouth to greet the class, but she beats me to it.

"Young man. Who are you and why are you late? Think about your answer. One thing in advance: I don't tolerate backtalk, I'm not here to make friends, and if you don't behave in a disciplined manner, it will show up in your GPA and in detention!"

That did the trick.

Stupid cow. Wild boar.

My first instinct is to apologize, but I suddenly make a decision I never thought I was capable of. I need the perfect answer to avoid ruining that all-important first impression and looking like a loser. A sentence that will earn me respect in front of the class and not ruin it for me with this snipe.

"I'm new to school and couldn't find this classroom. My dad wanted to drive me here, but he has to deal with the serial killers. Oh, you don't know that yet, well, it'll be on the news later. Well, I had to take my own car and of course it ran out of gas. So I set out and had to find a gas station and then the school. I'm really sorry that I haven't found the classroom yet. It won't happen again. I've memorized the way."

I think what I've just said is brilliant.

She frowns. She was expecting something, but not this answer.

"My name is James Allington," I add.

"Sit down," comes the curt reply. "I'll let it go this time. But if it happens again, I don't care if you or your father save the world. You'll get detention. Do you understand?"

I nod and move to the only empty seat.

"And if I hear expressions like 'cursed' or something like that again, you'll have extra homework."

This statement leaves no room for doubt. She means it. I sit down. My neighbor shifts a little to the side. As the teacher chats, I look around the classroom. I pay special attention to the girls. My gaze lingers on a really cute one. She has long, straight blonde hair and is wearing tight jeans and a tight black top.

It's amazing how this girl looks.

She is beautiful. She is perfect. I think I've fallen in love for the first time in my life. Well, a crush is an exaggeration, of course, but I have to find out her name.

When I arrived late, she even smiled at me a little. At least I think she did. She keeps whispering to her neighbor and they both keep winking at me. I conclude that the neighbor is her boyfriend and that I'm considered interesting.

Now she's smiling. It looks really cute and is the perfect counterpoint to Mrs. White's babbling.

The lessons are reeled off according to the syllabus and then, after what feels like 100 hours, it's finally recess time. The boy sitting next to me makes a sound for the first time and introduces himself: "Hi, my name is Kieran."

"My name is James," I answer and offer him my hand. He takes it.

"You were talking about the bodies found earlier. It's all over the news channels." "Yeah, really intense."

"Do you know more? I mean because your dad is the new sheriff."

I look at Kieran. He's a nice guy and I like him immediately.

"Supposedly it was a vampire. Well, if you want to explain the bloodlessness," I suggest and wait for Kieran's reaction.

"Do you believe that shit? They're just made up."

"Maybe they are. But maybe they really exist," I say mysteriously and jokingly at the same time.

"You don't really believe that vampires exist, do you?"

"Want me to tell you something?"

Kieran seems very curious. "Like what?"

"I've seen him. The vampire. In the woods, hiding one of his corpses," it slips out and I curse myself for telling you about it. But no matter. Now I've said it. So I wait to see how my maybe new buddy reacts.

"You're fucking with me now."

"No!"

"Don't take me for a fool."

"Kieran, we haven't met yet, but I can tell you one thing. I'm not lying. I swear to you, I made an observation the night before last and I've never told anyone about it."

"Not even your father?"

"Not even him."

Kieran looks at me. He seems to be thinking. Then he nods. "Okay, James. I think you and your kind are kind of cool. I believe you."

"I'm really not lying."

"Well, how about we meet in the woods today and check it out together?" he suddenly suggests.

Bam, that was right on the button. How should I react? Can I trust Kieran?

I'm so stupid. Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?

"Fear?"

"No," he says immediately. "I'm with you. Fuck that! We are going to see the crime scene. I'll tell you exactly what I saw last night."

"That's what we'll do. And in between, I'll explain to you how life works here in Greenfield and at this school, and who's friends with who."

"Good idea. You seem really okay," I say, not realizing the dangerous consequences our planned evening could have.

As spectacular as my arrival at the school was, I want to leave. But this plan goes down the drain. After my last class, I have to go to the office to get some forms for my parents to fill out. When I finally leave the school, all the students have already left. I get into the Porsche and drive home. Relieved that Black and White are not in front of the house yet, I slowly roll into the garage.

Mom arrives less than ten minutes later. We have a snack and I tell her that school is fine. Then I give her the packet of forms and say goodbye.

"I'm meeting a new buddy. See you later."

My mom is still talking to me when I close the door. It's warm. A pleasant temperature. The air is clear.

Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect for a leather jacket, I think and walk towards the woods.

I can see Kieran from a distance. He's already waiting at the meeting point. I'm excited to see how my friendship with him develops.

"There you are at last," he says. "Are you ready?"

"Of course!" I reply.

"Then go."

As we walk, I talk about my observation. It's good to talk about it with someone. I also feel safer than I did yesterday.

It's just better with two people.

We reached our destination quickly. At the edge of the forest, we look for the place where the Mercedes was parked and have no trouble finding it, as some of the deputies' paraphernalia is still lying around. Mostly small boards with numbers stuck in the ground and scraps of caution tape lying around.

"They could clean up better too," Kieran grins.

We start looking for clues. My new buddy is very meticulous. He examines the place very carefully, looking for footprints in the grass and on the ground. He looks for footprints and tire tracks. It almost seems to me that he is sniffing like a dog. I stifle a grin, but also admire his accuracy.

"Not good tracks. The tire tracks here in front of us are from the sheriff's department cars and the ambulances," he observes.

"I agree," I reply, agreeing with his opinion.

"Shall we?" he asks, pointing to the path that leads into the dense greenery of Greenfield Forest.

"Of course," comes the determined answer.

The forest is somehow eerie. Dark. But maybe it's also because it's noticeably cooler under the shady trees. We go straight ahead for a while, then turn right and leave the path. Eventually we reach an area secured with tape. The tape is marked and prohibits access to the area. There is also a warning sign. There is also a warning sign.

Crime Scene

No Trespassing!

Greenfield Sheriff's Department

We ignore the barriers and warning signs and continue. I've never disregarded any barriers before, especially those of the police, I think for a moment, but my curiosity and excitement quickly push my concerns aside. We take a good look around.

"Everything looks normal here," I say after a few minutes. "That's right. I'm sure they've sealed off the area. Let's go."

I nod and follow Kieran as he slowly walks ahead. After about 15 minutes we reach a cabin. It's not very big and I guess it's an old hunting lodge. A window shutter has been torn from its moorings and hangs crooked. Although the wood of this ramshackle hut is covered in moss, it still looks quite habitable.

"Do you know this one?" I ask, pointing at the hut. Kieran says no. "No. I've never been to this part of the forest." He starts to think and has an idea. "Maybe it belonged to old Sam Parker. He used to be a hunter and trapper. But Parker's probably been dead for ten years."

"Or maybe some rich lawyer from Boston had a hunting preserve here once," I add.

"Could be. It doesn't matter. Come on, let's take a closer look at this thing," Kieran suggests.

We approach the small hut and walk around the outside. We look in through the window where the shutter is broken. The panes are milky but completely intact. "Nothing!"

"No one's been in there for years."

"Not even the sheriff's department."

"Why would they?" I say.

We go to the door. Kieran grabs the doorknob and turns it. It creaks and there is a faint metallic click. "Not locked."

"Open it," I urge.

Carefully and very slowly, Kieran opens the door. We are greeted by a musty smell. We look in curiously.

The cabin is sparsely furnished. A desk, a small bookshelf, a chair and a bed frame without a mattress. In the corner is a small stove with a kettle on top.

"Judging by the dust, there hasn't been a fire here in a long time," Kieran whispers.

The books haven't been eaten by mice, I wonder. "Everything's pretty dusty, not just the stove." I slide into the doorway next to Kieran. There are lots of cobwebs everywhere.

"Do you think we should go in there?" I ask, but at the same moment Kieran lets out a "Cool!" and enters the hut. I follow him. As I look around, my new colleague walks purposefully to the desk. There are some papers and pens lying around. Next to it is a small inkwell and a kerosene lamp.

Kieran opens one of the books.

"This is handwritten. Looks like a diary," he says, flipping through the pages. "Squiggly handwriting, almost indecipherable," he adds, lifting the book to show me.

December 18, 1781

For Oloisius

You will kill all people who have knowledge of this cabin in a period of 13 days.

You must kill people who enter it on the seventh day.

If you refuse to do so, or if you cannot meet the deadline, you will die. For you are bound by our contract for all eternity!

Astrigo

Suddenly a page slides out and fluttered to the floor. I bent down and picked it up. It's a touching feeling to hold such an old document.

"What is this? Can you read it?" asks Kieran.

"Looks like a letter or something," I say. I take a closer look at the yellowed and slightly brittle paper, holding it very carefully so as not to damage it.

"It's written legibly."

"What are you waiting for?" my buddy urges.

"Okay," I reply and begin to read aloud.

We look at each other. Goose bumps spread over my back. I feel quite uncomfortable and a bit scared.

"Do you think he's still alive?" asks Kieran.

He doesn't seem impressed at all.

Didn't he hear the part about the date? That part is over two centuries old.

Kieran looks at me questioningly. He seems to be serious.

"If this Oloisius or this Astrigo are still alive, they're vampires or some other kind of creature," I answer, trying to make fun of Kieran a little. The joke also takes away my fear.

He shrugs. His eyes get wide, then narrow. I can't quite put my finger on it, but somehow Kieran suddenly seems very uncomfortable.

"Let's get out of here!"

He puts the book down on the chunky desk. I want to put the note down next to it, take a step forward and am startled.

Crunch

The floorboards under my feet creak audibly and loudly. "Hey, take a look," I say, pointing down. "The desk is on a trapdoor."

"Let's get out of here!" Kieran demands nervously. He seems excited. I, on the other hand, am getting curious and my initial fear has completely disappeared.

"Oh no! I want to see what's down there. Can you help me move the table to the side?"

"Forget it. I'm leaving," Kieran says and leaves the hut.

Hm, what's wrong with him?

As if fear is like a yo-yo, it comes back to me. The moment Kieran is at the door, it hits me again. This queasy, goosebump-inducing feeling spreads quickly.

"Kieran?"

I look at the door.

He's gone. My buddy is gone. What a chicken!

The yo-yo effect strikes again. The fear is gone, the curiosity is back.

Am I crazy? James, what are you doing? I ask myself as I push the desk aside.

Even though I feel rather queasy, I have to know what is hidden under this trapdoor.

Once again, my curiosity wins over reason. I glance at my grandmother's lucky stone, then grab it. I grab the iron ring and pull the trapdoor open. It takes some effort, but I manage it. I look towards the door, hoping for help.

Crap.

No sign of Kieran. Then I look down into the dark hole below me.

My thoughts jump around.

I didn't think Kieran would be such a coward. It's really dark down there. I'd better get out too. I don't even have a flashlight or anything.

Just as I'm about to close the trapdoor, I remember something. Of course I have a flashlight. The app on my phone. I quickly take it out of my pocket and tap the screen. One more swipe and I use the app. I shine the light into the basement of the cabin. A ladder leads down. At ten, everything is quiet. Nothing can be heard.

At that moment, I feel like Indiana Jones, comparing myself to the brave and fearless adventurer from the Hollywood movies.

"Kieran, if you're out there, please wait a minute! I'm just going to take a quick look around," I call, hoping that my buddy is still out there waiting for me to come out of the hut. Maybe I want to give myself a little courage. In any case, I feel safer when I'm not alone. But I don't wait for an answer. As soon as I've spoken, I take another deep breath. Relieved to see that it's not rotten, I climb down the old ladder.

Step by step I take the rungs. They hold. When I reached the bottom, I lit everything. It smells very musty and damp.

It's not a cellar, it looks like a secret passage. A tunnel leading away from here in two directions.

Contrary to my original decision to just have a quick look around, I consider going a few meters into the tunnel.

Maybe an old gold or silver mine, I think.

I take a quick look at the ground.

Damp clay, I notice.

Then I jump back. Besides my own shoe prints, there are other footprints on the floor. You can even see the tread on one of them.

These tracks are not from 1781, but from today. There used to be no treads on the soles of shoes. Someone must have been here recently.

This is how Robinson Crusoe must have felt when he came across the cannibals' footprints in the sand.

What should I do now? Continue or go back upstairs and tell Kieran about my discovery?

I quickly gather the facts. I'm in a tunnel. There are wooden beams at regular intervals along the ceiling and side walls.

The whole thing is probably not from modern times, but probably from the 18th century, I realize soberly. Everything looks a bit like a canal into which one descends.

Even the ancient Romans had secret catacombs under their Eternal City.

As soon as I finish thinking about it, I know that I'm going to go in one direction, adventure-wise.

Fuck Kieran and the fear. I want to know where this tunnel leads. I'm not sure which way to go.

Right or left? Or should I follow the tracks?

I illuminate the ground. I am confused. The footprints go both ways, but only one way for a few meters, then the ground becomes rocky and you cannot see anything.

In any case, the person who walked here definitely walked in both directions. So it doesn't matter which way I go. In cases like this, like when I'm in a foreign city, I usually go around to the right, so I'll go that way now.

I remembered that I still have the drawing application on my phone. I've been meaning to delete it for a long time, but I never got around to it. Or rather, I've always been too lazy, which seems to help at the moment.

A modern Hansel and Gretel game. Instead of scattering breadcrumbs, I draw my path.

I laugh briefly, turn on the program and the phone light, and then I start walking. The light from the phone is enough to illuminate the path reasonably well. I quickly get used to the damp, musty smell. I walk slowly, stopping now and then to listen for footsteps. At short intervals, I swipe my fingers across the screen so that the route is recorded in the app. I feel safe and unobserved.

It is always straight ahead.

Fortunately, there are no side streets leading away from the main tunnel, so it's impossible to get lost.

But only 50 meters further on, I am proven wrong. I come to what looks like a crossroads.

What a mess! It would have been too easy.

"James Allington, you're not a lucky man after all," it slips quietly from my lips.

I slowly approach this fork in the road and am suddenly astonished to find myself at a dead end. On the left and on the right there are doors. Heavy oak doors. I quickly examine both sides. Looking for traces or clues.

Nothing.

At least I don't notice anything. I wonder if the doors are locked.

Thoughts race through my mind. One part tells me to turn back immediately, the other urges me to open the doors. I wonder who made this tunnel. I wonder who made this tunnel. It must have taken a lot of work.

Where did they put all the excavated material?

More questions arise.

What are these doors for? Do they lead to more corridors or are they rooms? And if so, are they hiding places like those of the ancient Romans, or are they secret treasure chambers? Was there gold here in the past?

I concentrate, pluck up courage and decide to open one of the doors. This time I deliberately choose the left side. My hand reaches for the iron doorknob, almost trembling, and I turn it to the right. It moved easily. It was as if someone was oiling the lock at regular intervals.

Crunch, clack

My pulse is racing. The goose bumps on my neck again. The door opens. I push it open very slowly and shine my cell phone into the dark room. I wonder what I will discover, I am curious. And then I see ... nothing. Instead, the musty smell intensifies.

That's the musty musty smell, I insist, breathing only through my mouth so I don't have to smell the musty stuff. In front of me is a 20 square meter, completely empty room. Or should I call it a cave? It is, after all, a windowless underground cavity secured by a heavy oak door.

What was this room used for?

As I ponder, I make a drawing on my phone. Then I look at the picture and am satisfied.

This is exactly what it looks like.

I decide to open the other door as well. No sooner have I pulled the oak door back into the lock than I stand in front of the second door and turn the knob.

Click, click

This door opens easily as well. I go through the whole process a second time. Very slowly and always with my cell phone on, I push the door open. Earlier I thought the mustiness could not be topped, but now I realize that there is a new record for stale, musty air.

Wow, this place smells old. Worse than my grandmother's bedroom.

I carefully open the door all the way. When I look inside, my blood literally freezes in my veins. I jump, want to run, but I can't move because of the shock. The room is as empty as the other one, but in the middle of this dark cave is a coffin.

If you were to compare my face to milk, my complexion would definitely be paler. I'm really scared.

A second look follows. The lid of the coffin is closed. If Kieran were here, I might open it to see what - or rather who - is inside. But since I'm alone, I prefer to make my exit and retreat.

Quietly, as if I don't want to wake anyone, I close the door. I turn around and run back to the entrance as fast as I can. I quickly reached the ladder.

Shock. The trapdoor is closed.

Was it Kieran? Did the thing close by itself?

I get scared, want to call for Kieran - but what if it's not my new buddy, but the guy who dumped the bodies in the woods who closed the trapdoor? Panic sets in. I climb up the rungs. Push against the trapdoor.

Bloody hell! Too. What idiot closed the hatch?

I push against the trapdoor with all my strength. Every muscle in my body is tense. I can feel blood rushing to my head. It lifts maybe two millimeters. Someone has pushed the desk onto the hatch.

"Kieran, if you're up there, let me out! This is not a good joke!" I yell.

No answer. I listen. Silence. I don't hear a sound. I think.

Think, James!

I vacillate between courage, desperation, and pure fear. Thousands of thoughts race through my mind like .

Bloodless corpses. A coffin. Oh my God, what if there really is a vampire sleeping there?

I feel almost sick with fear. I quickly realize that I have to act. Staying here would be the stupidest decision ever. My whole body shakes as I climb back down the ladder. Hoping to find another exit, I turn left. This tunnel passage is identical to the other one. Rocky floor, walls and ceiling supported by wooden beams. After only twenty meters I come to a crossroads. The tunnel forks into three directions.

"That one too," I groaned, and had to make a decision. On the far left, above the tunnel, there is a picture. It's covered in dust. A clue, I am glad to see, and walk over to it. As the light from my cell phone falls on it, I recognize the outline of a skull. Startled, I back away. I quickly light the two tunnel entrances.

Nothing.

Instinctively, I choose the right side again. As I walked along the corridor, I noticed something I hadn't noticed before. At least, I hadn't noticed it. There are torch holders attached to the walls at regular intervals. Some of them even have half-burned torches in them. I can also see dark soot stains behind them and on the ceiling in the cone of light from the cell phone lamp.

Kind of creepy, I think. Indiana Jones, you'd be proud of me.

I hope. I see a door. My steps quicken. Standing in front of it, I reach for the knob and turn it. It's locked.

"Great," I mutter softly.

Seeing no way to open the door, I turn around. When I reached the fork in the tunnel again, I chose the middle passage. After a few meters it forks again. This time I choose the middle one.

The golden middle. Finally get me out of this web of tunnels and corridors, it shoots through my head and off I go. After about twenty meters I find another fork.

"Now it's getting complicated, damn it. I can't get lost now."

I record my route on the app. Of the two options, I choose the one on the right again. A glance at the phone's battery level reassures me. Still almost 70 percent. I won't run out of light that fast. I count the steps. And right after number 30, I stand in front of a door. I put my hand on the doorknob again, turn it, and the click gives me hope.

Open, I breathe a sigh of relief.

But instead of being on my way out, I find myself in some kind of library. The entire cave is lined with wood. Walls, ceiling and floor.

That makes the climate a little more pleasant and probably drier, I think. Maybe to keep the books from rotting.

In the middle is a clumsy, simple desk. It is made of roughly cut wood. Behind it is a chair of the same kind. There is a kerosene lamp on the desk and a half-burned candle. Although it is tempting to enter the room and browse through the books, I close the door and walk back quickly. I head straight for the left tunnel that I left out earlier. After exactly 30 steps, I stand in front of another door. This time I jump slightly. It is ajar. I only have to push it lightly and it swings open with a squeak.

"This can't be right," I exclaim as I find myself back in a wood-paneled room. This time there are various paintings and drawings hanging on the walls, then a shelf sparsely filled with books. However, it is pushed away from the wall and protrudes into the room at a right angle.

Something is different here than in the previous room.

Cautiously, I take a step forward. I let the cone of light from my cell phone circle around me and walk to the shelf.

A draft.

I can feel it very clearly. There must be some kind of air shaft here. I shine the light on everything and discover a shaft behind the shelf. It's almost right under the ceiling. I have to stretch to put my hand in front of the entrance to the shaft. I can clearly feel the draft. I took a closer look at the entrance. It's wide and big enough for me to crawl through.

This is the way out. The draft proves it. This shaft leads outside.

I am sure of it and am happy to have finally found an exit. I turn around and look into the room. Only now do I notice that all the pictures, whether paintings or drawings, are of men. I go to the first wall and illuminate the pictures. I almost recoil in horror as I recognize long, pointed canines in the mouths of three of the five paintings.

"They are..." I stammer, "They're... vampire teeth!"