Vengeance (The Captive #6)(17)
These may be the homes of vampires and human, but no smoke spiraled lazily into the air from the chimneys; he didn’t smell any fires in the hearths within the homes or hear the crackling of firewood. No footprints disturbed the snow on any of the roads or porches of the homes.
He walked up the steps of one of the homes and opened the unlocked door. Like the tavern, everything looked normal, except for the faint scent of something rotten wafting from one of the back rooms and the complete lack of occupants.
He put his bow on his back again and returned the arrow to his quiver before pulling out a stake. Entering the dining room, he discovered the remains of a family dinner. Four plates of rotting chicken and the moldy, shrunken remains of corn and potatoes sat on the table. A fork still stuck out of one baked potato.
“What is going on?” he muttered.
Striding into the bedroom, he opened the closet doors to reveal all of the clothes still neatly hanging within. Closing the doors, he turned his attention to the bureau next to the closet. Pulling open the drawers, he discovered socks, underwear, and undershirts. He found no empty drawers or empty spots where clothes had once been. He went through the other two rooms, where he discovered children’s clothing but nothing more.
Returning to the main street, he glanced up and down it before walking to the next home and jogging up the steps of the porch. He made his way through three more homes; two of them were human homes with food rotting in the cabinets and fridges. The other was a vampire residence with no food in it at all. All of the buildings were as vacant as the tavern and first home had been.
Confusion filled him, his mind spun as he tried to figure out what had gone on here, but for the life of him, he couldn’t even begin to guess at it. The vampires hadn’t killed all the humans and ditched their bodies; they would still be residing here if they had. The humans hadn’t turned on the vamps and had a bloodbath; there would be evidence of that. There would be survivors, but there was no one.
He walked back to where he’d left Achilles. The horse looked up from the scoop of grain William had given him before returning to his meal. William turned as he stared up and down the street again. Around him, snow began to fall in lazy spirals. It stuck to his clothes and hair; snowflakes melted against his cheek and nose. He wanted out of this town, but if there were any answers here, he had to uncover them before moving on. His feet sank into the snow as he walked up the stairs of the prison and opened the door.
The hush of the building was as complete as it had been in the other homes he’d gone through. A broken window in the back had allowed snow to enter. It formed a three-foot high drift against the back wall. The curtains billowed inward as more snow fell through the busted pane. A crow lifted its head from the top of the pile and let out a loud squawk when it spotted him. Its wings kicked up swirls of snow as it took flight. Black feathers gliding lazily to the ground were the only sign it had been there after it vanished out the window.
The bird was smarter than he was, he realized as he looked around the dust-covered desks in the room. Both cells were empty, but multiple blankets lined the floors, along with makeshift pillows created from rolled up coats and other clothing. There were at least fifteen of the beds in each cell. William’s confusion continued to mount as he stared back and forth between the two cells.
What had happened here that they’d been forced to house so many prisoners within the cells?
For the first time he wished he hadn’t decided to strike out on his own. Something truly bizarre was happening here. Daniel or Xavier might be able to figure it out, or maybe Xavier had seen something like this before, but he had no idea what was going on. He turned on his heel and started to make his way out of the prison when he heard a muffled sound.
Turning around again, he searched the empty room. He didn’t see or smell anything, but he knew he’d heard something. His brow furrowed when he heard it again. Moving back into the center of the room, he studied the walls and opened the one closed door to reveal the closet sized bathroom. He looked at the ceiling and then the floor.
He didn’t hear the sound again, but just as he was getting ready to go, his eyes landed on a different pattern in the wooden floorboards. His boots were noiseless against the floor as he made his way to the desk over the top of the panel in the floor. He grabbed hold of the end of the metal desk, lifted it, and moved it aside.
With the desk out of the way, he knelt to examine the panel placed discreetly into the floor. He ran his fingers over the edge, looking for some way to pull it up but finding nothing. Years of living with Daniel, and watching his ingenious traps and designs had taught him there was always more than met the eye when it came to places others wanted to keep hidden.
Finding no way to pull it up, he began to press down on the flooring. When his fingers pressed on the top left hand corner, he heard a small click. It rose up a quarter of an inch. Rising, he walked over and grabbed a lantern from where it hung on the wall. He placed it on the desk and opened the drawers in search of some matches. Uncovering a matchbox, he pulled out a match and lit it before pressing the flame to the wick of the lantern.
He turned the flame up before bending down to pull the panel away from the floor. Rustling sounds drifted from below when he moved the lantern to reveal the stairs leading into the basement room. A hiss that sounded like it came from a couple dozen snakes sounded from below, but nothing appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
The mildew odor of the room, body odor and something much more foul and pungent filled his nostrils. He had a feeling he really wasn’t going to like what he found, but he pulled his stake from the holster at his side and began to descend the stairs.