Page 56 of Vanessa’s Bravery

“It’s dark. Little early for everybody to be in bed,” Patrick said, his forehead furrowing.

Ethan let out a hum. “Unless nobody’s home.”

Patrick reached into his inside pocket and retrieved his lockpicks. “Watch my back.”

He walked up to the front door, Ethan on his heels, and listened for sounds from inside the house, but it was quiet. As quickly and as quietly as he could, he picked the lock with his tools. Everybody at Scanguards had to learn that skill during their bodyguard training. While vampires certainly had enough strength to kick in regular doors to gain access to a room or a building, it was a noisy act that would take away the element of surprise.

“It’s open,” Patrick whispered.

He put his lockpicks back into his jacket pocket and pulled out his leather gloves. He slipped them on, then pulled a silver knife from the sheath at his belt, before looking over his shoulder. Ethan was now also wearing leather gloves. But instead of a knife he was holding a silver chain in his hands. The thick leather gloves were necessary to protect their hands from the silver, because just like pureblooded vampires, vampire hybrids could also be injured or killed with silver. In this case, they would only injure the rogue if necessary, and capture him alive.

They’d left their stakes in the car, so they couldn’t be used against them by the rogue, although it was entirely possible that the rogue was armed with a stake too. However, given that this incel had no training in any fighting style, and according to his records was a five-foot-nine weakling, Patrick didn’t doubt they could subdue him quickly.

Ethan gave a quick nod. “Ready.”

Patrick opened the door slowly, then spied through the gap between door and frame to look into the dark corridor. Even with his superior night vision, he couldn’t see anybody in the hallway. He opened the door wide enough to slip inside, when a pungent smell greeted him. His heart sank into his gut, and his body recoiled.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, glancing over his shoulder at Ethan, who wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“That bastard,” Ethan murmured.

Patrick indicated where he was heading, and Ethan nodded in agreement. Like they’d been taught at Scanguards, they went from room to room, covering each other, until they reached the kitchen in the back of the house. There, the stench was worst, and his suspicion was confirmed. The aroma of decaying human flesh filled the room, its origin the older woman on the linoleum floor, her clothes torn, her eyes wide in complete terror, her throat ripped out, and blood splatter everywhere he looked. She’d been savagely attacked.

“His mother?” Ethan asked in a low voice as he bent down to her.

Patrick looked around the kitchen and saw a handbag on a counter. “Most likely.” He reached into the handbag and found the woman’s wallet. Her driver’s license confirmed his guess. “Yes, she’s his mother.”

“He must have really hated her to kill her so brutally.”

Patrick tightened his jaw, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Nevertheless, the scent of decomposition was impossible to block out. “Looks like she’s been dead for a few days.”

“Yeah, my guess is three to four days,” Ethan agreed. “We’d better call it in. We need a clean-up crew.”

“Let’s check the rest of the house first.” He tipped his head up toward the ceiling.

“I can’t hear anything from upstairs,” Ethan whispered.

“Do you remember from the info we got if she has a husband?” Patrick asked, wishing he’d had more time to go over the information that had been sent to his and Ethan’s cell phones. He’d barely glanced at it before jumping into the car to drive here.

“She’s divorced,” Ethan replied. “But there was no info whether she had a boyfriend.”

Walking swiftly, but without making any noise, they headed for the stairs to the second floor. Upstairs, the corridor was dark too, but from underneath the door to one room in the back of the house, a faint light shone through. Patrick pointed to it, and they crept toward it. Patrick put his ear to the door, but there was no sound. With a quick glance at Ethan, he pushed the door open, his silver knife ready for attack.

But the room was empty. Only a lamp on the bedside table was switched on. The bed had been slept in. While Ethan checked the closet and the bathroom, Patrick approached the bed. He dipped his head to the sheets and inhaled. The scent was human, and though he couldn’t tell whether it was the mother’s scent because the scent of her decaying body smelled entirely different, his best guess was that she was the one who’d slept here.

“Nothing,” Ethan confirmed. “The other rooms?”

They checked the other two rooms too, and they were empty as well. One was used as a sewing and craft room, which smelled similar to the aroma Patrick had smelled in the bedroom. The other room was a kid’s room with posters of Spiderman and other superheroes. But the bed hadn’t been slept in, and the air smelled musty. Nobody had been in this room for a while.

“This house doesn’t have a basement,” Patrick said, feeling discouraged. The bird had flown the coop.

“No, but it has a garage,” Ethan said. “And the car is parked in the driveway.”

Their eyes met, and Patrick realized that they were thinking the same thing. All wasn’t lost yet. Without another word, and walking on tiptoes now, they went downstairs. Patrick tested the door to the garage, turning its knob gently. It wasn’t locked. With a nod, he ripped the door open. Within a fraction of a second, he assessed the interior of the garage. It looked like a man cave complete with an old sofa and easy chair, a large TV mounted on the wall, a computer in one corner, and heaps of dirty clothes on the washing machine and dryer. The makeshift room was messy, which fit with the profile of the rogue. So, where the hell was he?

“I can smell him,” Ethan said from next to him.

“Me too.”