Page 68 of Inhuman Nature

“I’m just going to reiterate that I think we should have worn matching outfits for this,” DJ said. The five of them were sitting in David’s car on Lawrence’s street, psyching themselves up for the break-in.

“And I’ll remind you for the dozenth time that a bunch of people in costumes will be much more noticeable,” Rake responded. “It’s the middle of the day. We’re supposed to look normal.”

DJ harrumphed. Nobody had listened to him, despite the whole thing being his idea. Apparently, the rest of them had become expert thieves overnight. “We’d blend in better if we were in camouflage,” he muttered.

“Ugh, I would look shit in camo,” David complained from where he was sitting at the wheel.

“Same,” Van and Sophie agreed together.

“Fine! I’m wrong, and you’re all bloody right.” DJ crossed his arms over his chest, sulking.

“Are you a hundred percent sure we should do this in the daytime?” David asked as a large group of people walked by the car. “It’s busy around here.”

“Shaun assured us that Lawrence would be always out during the day,” Rake said. It was the lie they were going for. They’d get in, search the place, and take Lawrence’s laptop for Van to get into if there was no sign of Shaun. All whilst pretending to their friends that they weren’t worrying about stumbling onto a sleeping vampire.

“And we can’t meet this elusive Shaun of yours yet, because?” David asked.

“He’s away with family,” Rake supplied.

“DJ, I still don’t understand how you gottwoboyfriends before I gotone. Don’t suppose you’re looking for another?” David said, looking over his shoulder.

“No,” Rake said, “he’s not. The street’s empty. We should go in. Bye, David.”

“Thanks for being our getaway driver!” Sophie called back to him, a tad too loudly for keeping their criminal activity on the down-low.

“Use your inside voice, Soph,” Van reminded her.

Sophie’s squeal of apology was, if anything, louder than her original comment.

“Focus, people,” Rake said from the front of their group.

DJ studied the row of houses. They were of the typical sort seen close to the seafront; listed Regency-era houses worth millions and unobtainable to mere mortals like him. Many of the houses had been converted into smaller flats these days, but Shaun told them that Lawrence’s house retained its original form.

“Honestly,” he whispered to Rake. “What is Lawrence doing with a house so close to the beach? It’s not like he can even make use of it!”

“Why’s it odd that he’s close to the beach?” Sophie asked from behind them, making DJ jump a foot in the air.

“Oh, you know. Because he’s allergic to the sun,” he said when he recovered, proud of his quick thinking.

“Allergic to the sun?” Van said, a dubious expression on her face.

“Yes, it’s a debilitating condition,” Rake said, pulling DJ forward by the elbow.

“Ow,” DJ grumbled, even though it didn’t hurt.

“Stop pretending, or I’ll give you something to really complain about,” Rake said.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!”

They approached the door to the house, acting like they had every right in the world to be there. Van and Sophie moved to the front, and DJ watched with interest as Sophie pulled out a little wrapped pouch and studied the lock. She made short work of choosing her lock picks before jabbing them into the hole.

After a bit of fiddling, the lock gave a satisfying click. Sophie turned the handle, pushing the door open. The four of them slipped in, Rake going last and shutting the door behind them.

DJ marvelled at the opulence on display. The hallway wasn’t wide, but everything from the rich, dark colour of the wood panelling to the geometric Farrow & Ball-type wallpaper screamed wealth. There was an ornate mirror above a thin table, but other than that, the hall was free from the usual clutter.

No piles of shoes or overburdened coat stands for Lawrence—only one brass hook was affixed to the wallbeside the door, and nothing hung from it. Considering Lawrence’s wealth, the art that covered the rest of the walls had to be original pieces. Not that DJ would have been able to notice the difference. He was more partial to a ten quid mass-produced IKEA print.

They moved forward as a unit, checking the first doorway to their left. It led to an open living room, filled with lavish Persian rugs and Chesterfield sofas covered in thick blankets that likely cost more than every item in DJ and Rake’s house put together. DJ chuckled when he noted there was no TV in the room. Nowthatwas the sign of wealth.