Page 69 of Inhuman Nature

“What the fuck,” Sophie whispered. DJ turned to look at her. She was staring at an uncovered section of the floor, and he followed her gaze to where a dark stain spread across the wooden floorboards. It had to be blood. DJ’s stomach knotted.

Rake caught his eye, concern warring with determination. They needed to be in and out of the house before their blood stained the woodwork, too.

“I’m sure it’s not what it looks like,” DJ said.

“Like someone made a terrible mess of such expensive flooring?” Sophie asked.

“In that case, I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“You two have a look around here and see if you can locate a laptop. DJ and I will take upstairs,” Rake said.

They didn’t need to give further instructions. Sophie was already exploring all the nooks and crannies of the living room, yanking open drawers and poking around. Van moved into the kitchen, treading lightly on her feet.

“Together?” DJ asked as he and Rake stood facing thestairs.

Rake slid his hand into DJ’s. “Together.”

Side by side, they climbed, aware of every groan the old wood made. There was a dark runner that muffled their footsteps, but DJ still felt like every move he made echoed in the silence.

When they ascended, the upstairs hall stretched out in front of them, revealing half a dozen closed doors.

“How do we avoid going into Lawrence’s bedroom by accident?” DJ asked.

“I don’t know if we can,” Rake whispered back. He crept forward, pressing his ear to the first closed door. “I can’t hear anything.”

“Do vampires snore?” DJ asked. “Shaun didn’t make any noises when he was asleep.”

Rake gave him an indulgent look. “No, I don’t think they snore, Deej. You take the next door. I’ll try this one.”

DJ took a deep breath and crept up to the closed door. Rake slunk inside the other room, so DJ steeled his nerves and turned the handle of his own door. It opened with an ominous creak—the type of ominous creak normally only heard in the genre of horror films DJ avoided. He made a mental note to buy some WD40 to leave on Lawrence’s doorstep the next time he passed the house.

DJ swallowed as he took in the large room. The curtains were thrown open, soft sunlight exposing the dancing dust motes in the air. An empty bed dominated the space, the covers thrown off as if its occupant had only got up seconds beforehand. There wasn’t much else to the room, especially compared to the lavish furnishings of the rest of the house.Other than the small bookcase overflowing with well-read paperbacks, there was a chest of drawers with nothing but a lamp atop it, a plain wardrobe, and a trunk at the bottom of the iron-railed bed.

DJ looked inside the trunk first.

It was full to the brim of even more books—most with broken spines—and little knick-knacks. Some touristy tat, as well as some quirky items of the sort that could be found in the independent shops in the Lanes. DJ rummaged a bit, a small glass ornament of a wolf catching his eye. He held it in his hand, testing its weight. It was only when he saw some of the book titles and the familiar black and red covers that he had a realisation.

He was in Shaun’s bedroom.

DJ’s head jerked up, eyes darting around, as if he might have missed the sight of Shaun somewhere in the room.

But, of course, DJ was still alone.

DJ pocketed the wolf figurine. He didn’t have unlimited space in his bag, but he figured Shaun would appreciate it. He tiptoed over to the wardrobe next, happy to find some of Shaun’s clothing. At the very least, it would give Shaun some options other than wearing DJ and Rake’s stuff, which was all far too large for him.

He checked in the chest of drawers, unsurprised at how little clothing Shaun had. The room was more cell than sanctuary, but DJ touched the little wolf in his pocket and smiled. He and Rake would make a better home for Shaun. Even if it was in their tiny one-bedroom flat, it would be ahome.

A sudden noise at the door had DJ whirling around, arms raised.

Rake canted his head in that annoying way he did. “Were you going to attack me?”

“I can defend myself!” DJ insisted. He raised his fists in his best impression of a boxer. “See?”

Rake snorted. “Your stance is wrong.”

“What do you know about boxing?”

“More than you, apparently. Anything useful in here? My one was a spare bedroom. Empty.”