Page 30 of Inhuman Natures #1

“Nah. I’ve got this. Naked sleeping vamp, here I come.” DJ walked up to the door and, before he could talk himself out of it, turned the handle. There was no ominous creak this time, just the silent slide of the door opening.

And as DJ predicted, he was the one to come across Lawrence. Luckily, his other prediction wasn’t so accurate. Or at least, it wasn’t as far as he could see.

DJ raised his phone to shine a light through the room. There was no stereotypical coffin, only a grand four-poster bed containing the sleeping vampire. DJ stood still as he waited to see if Lawrence would stir, but he looked like he could be truly dead.

DJ inched closer to get a better look, his sense of self-preservation apparently having left him. Even though he’d seen Lawrence a few times before, it was different to seeing him like this.

The vampire looked vulnerable. It was a shame DJ couldn’t take advantage of it.

DJ clocked Lawrence’s laptop lying on the desk. An older model, its thick silver surface reflecting the light from DJ’s phone.

He tiptoed over with an eye on Lawrence all the while. Channelling his inner Indiana Jones, he picked the laptop up in one hand. Only, he had forgotten how heavy old laptops were, almost dropping it in surprise.

Even through the noise of DJ fumbling with the laptop, Lawrence remained unmoving on the bed.

After letting out a breath, DJ hurried back over to the door, laptop in hand, and made his way back out into the hallway. He almost screamed when he caught sight of Rake standing right outside.

Rake eyed the room behind DJ. “Are you okay? Is Lawrence in there?”

“I’m fine.” Other than the mild heart attack Rake had just given him, he didn’t add. “Any sign of Shaun?” he asked.

Rake’s jaw tensed. “No. ”

DJ hadn’t expected it to be as easy as walking into the first room in the house and finding Shaun, but part of him was also relieved he wasn’t there. The prospect of Shaun ending up back in Lawrence’s clutches was worse than most other fates DJ could imagine for him.

He and Rake stayed so quiet that Van and Sophie didn’t realise they’d come back downstairs until they entered the kitchen. The women, heads close together, jumped apart as they walked in.

DJ waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Van scoffed. But Sophie’s pale skin had flushed with embarrassment, so DJ stopped making fun of them, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Find anything?” Rake asked.

“Nada,” Van said. “Dude does not keep anything important in the kitchen. And you know what else he doesn’t keep? Groceries. Of any kind.” She threw open the fridge doors. “Not even condiments! What kind of monster doesn’t own a slightly expired and half-used bottle of ketchup?”

DJ snorted. Van might just end up figuring out what Lawrence was by exploring his house. “The kind of monster who deserves us stealing this from him?” he said, holding up the laptop.

“Gimme!” Van made grabby hands, so DJ handed it over.

“Your guy’s ex is seriously weird,” Sophie said. “He has a drawer just for knives.” She pulled it open to demonstrate. Sure enough, knives of all sizes lay in meticulously ordered rows, each of them gleaming in the light.

“Yeah, I don’t even wanna think about what those might be used for,” Van said .

“Time to go?” Sophie asked.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Rake said.

They traipsed back out into the hallway, making their way towards the front door. DJ stopped at another door that he’d missed on the way in. “Did either of you check this room?”

After simultaneous head shakes from Van and Sophie, DJ pulled on the handle. They all peered down at a stairway bathed in darkness.

Rake leaned over and flicked up a light switch that DJ hadn’t noticed. The overhead light lit up the entire stairway, illuminating an impressive door at the bottom.

“I think…” Rake trailed off, an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“What?” DJ asked.

“Shaun.” Rake’s response was barely a whisper, so quiet that Van and Sophie wouldn’t have heard it from where they’d backed away into the hall.

A shiver ran down DJ’s spine.

“I’m going,” Rake said.

“Have at it,” Van said. “You go down to the creepy murder basement and we’ll stay up here. Let us know how it goes.”

“Yeah,” Sophie agreed. “I’ve seen way too many horror movies. I like to think I’m a badass, but whatever that door opens to is giving off all sorts of bad juju.”

Without another word, Rake marched down the stairs with no fear.

DJ couldn’t let Rake do it alone. So—despite everything in DJ telling him that the basement should be avoided—he followed, each step deepening his sense of dread.

Once at the bottom, Rake pulled on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. “Christ, this is heavy.”

“Let me help,” DJ said, placing his hands beside Rake’s. Together, they yanked the door open.

Rake entered first, DJ sending a nervous glance backwards before doing the same.

The bulb from the stairwell cast the mostly empty room in shadows, but it was enough to see the sheer number of bloodstains on the floors and up the walls. Chains with thick metal links were strewn around the place, some attached to the wall, some not.

DJ tried not to think about how Shaun would have felt being stuck down there. “Shaun needs to get out of this unscathed,” he said. “Whatever we do. He can’t go back to living like this.”

“We’ll do what we can. Starting with getting anything useful off of that laptop.” Rake did a quick sweep of the basement, but it was clear to DJ that there was nothing to find but a sense of desolation.

They were almost at the hallway when there was the unmistakable sound of a wooden floorboard creaking from further upstairs. DJ looked to Rake in alarm, but Van and Sophie had already got the message. The women sprinted through the hallway, Rake shoving DJ ahead of him and towards the front door.

Sophie reached it first, wrenching it open and stumbling out into the daylight.

DJ followed Van out next, Rake right behind him.

The women ran to the car where David was waiting, but Rake and DJ stayed behind, looking up at the house for a few seconds.

DJ would have sworn he caught sight of a twitch at the curtain of the upstairs bedroom.

Rake grabbed his hand and dragged him to the car, pushing DJ into the last vacant seat in the back before getting into the front.

David looked at them all, bewildered. “Time to go?” he asked.

“Drive,” Rake commanded.

“Please,” DJ added.

David did as he was told, even though he grumbled at Rake’s impoliteness. DJ turned to watch the house, heart thumping in his chest. But there was no angry vampire chasing them. He relaxed infinitesimally, catching Rake’s relieved expression in the wing mirror.

They’d done it. They’d broken into Lawrence’s house and lived to tell the tale.

When they piled into their flat for post-break-in drinks and charcuterie—because DJ insisted that it was only polite to provide wine and cheese after roping the others into committing burglary—Van pulled Lawrence’s laptop out and put it on the coffee table.

She opened it with a sense of aplomb, but her face fell as fast as it had lit up.

“What?” DJ asked.

Van held up a faded Post-it. Rake took it from her with a frown, before his face smoothed out and he chuckled.

“What!” DJ asked again, displeased at being ignored.

“It’s Lawrence’s password,” Rake said. He showed the Post-it to DJ.

P@ssw0rd123.

DJ threw his head back and laughed. “What an idiot. ”

“It means you don’t need me,” Van said, looking miffed.

“Try it before saying that,” Rake suggested.

Van’s fingers flew over the keyboard. After a few long seconds, she groaned.

“I’d been looking forward to trying to crack it.

Let me ensure it can’t be traced, at least.” After a minute of rapid-fire clicking and tapping, she sat back.

“All done. You can find whatever you need. Seems like he uses the same password for everything.”

“You’re the best,” DJ said, swinging the laptop around to face him. He started opening up folders on the cluttered desktop until Rake put his hand over the trackpad.

“Let’s do this later,” Rake said, eyes communicating a clear message to desist. That, or he was attempting to bore a hole in DJ’s head with his mind.

Van diverted everyone’s attention by opening her rucksack and pulling out a set of silver candlestick holders.

DJ’s mouth dropped open as she removed several more things from her bag: a small burnished gold clock, a couple of delicate vases—one still holding some dried lavender—and an ornate handheld mirror.

There was even a set of hand-painted Matryoshka dolls that she took out one by one from her pockets.

“Uh,” DJ said. “Van?”

She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Yes?”

Rake’s face moved between expressions of disapproval and admiration with such speed that DJ thought it might break. “You took those from Lawrence’s house,” Rake accused.

“No, no. I brought these from home,” Van insisted.

DJ burst out laughing. “You’re welcome to the creepy dolls. ”

Sophie and David didn’t seem to care about the unexpected plunder, both of them making the most of the cheap wine they’d bought several bottles of.

DJ enjoyed the wine too, though he only nibbled at a few bits of cheese.

He made a point of having a couple of crackers under Rake’s watchful gaze, however.

Since they’d already made up an excuse about going to visit DJ’s parents that evening, their friends left well before it got dark. The second they were out the door, DJ and Rake settled onto the sofa to search through the laptop.