Free Dead Night by Tim O'Rourke

stolen it from me. As I crossed the barren fields and navigated my way through tight valleys, I saw Marty in my mind’s eye. I couldn’t shake those images of him standing in the bedroom clutching that tube of blood. I would never forget the fear I had seen in his eyes as he’d told me the blood had come from a vampire bat. But I knew that couldn’t be true. I had seen it being taken from the corpse’s arm.
    But then again, she had sat bolt upright on the slab. I’d watched as her face and fingers grew back. Had she been a vampire? No, they weren’t real. That was the stuff of stories – myth and legend. Just like some people believed that ghosts haunted old houses, there were some who believed vampires lived underground. I hadn’t believed in any of it...but now...I didn’t know what to think.
    I had been raised to believe that there were only two dominant species on the planet – humans and Skin-walkers, and neither liked each other very much. Like all children, I had learnt the history of the Treaty that had been signed at Wasp Water. I had been lucky as I’d grown up, the wolves had never come to my home town, so I hadn’t been taken from my parents to be matched.
    I’d heard stories though – that those children who had been matched were never the same. Although they looked the same, they were different once they had a wolf living inside of them. I’d never trusted a Skin-walker. It felt difficult to know that they had taken over the soul of a human, stolen their skin. It was like they were wearing a mask.
    All of them had something to hide, I figured. But they were a part of society – the Treaty said they had to be. They were cops, doctors, priests, politicians, generals – they had worked their way into every level of society. What had happened to me had only gone to prove that my distrust in them had been justified.
    I reached the top of the coastal path to find myself standing in front of a deserted-looking farmhouse. Off to the right there stood the gutted remains of a barn, which looked as if it had been set on fire at one time. The house itself looked pretty derelict and parts of the roof had collapsed inwards. The windows were covered in thick, yellow grime and the white front door looked warped in its frame. I crossed the small area of overgrown grass in front of the farm and pushed the door with my hand. It gave a little, so I leant against it with my shoulder. The door groaned then flew open, throwing up a shower of dust and cobwebs. I didn’t need to call out to know that no one was home. The place was covered in dust, and the walls were covered in black spots of mildew. It smelt musty, and as I closed the door, I was grateful to be out of the freezing wind that screamed about the eaves.
    I placed the holdall on the floor, and looked about the room that I found myself in. It was small and poky, with a fireplace set into the wall. There were some dry-looking logs piled beside it. Turning around, I could see an open door that led into a kitchen. A wooden table and four chairs stood around it. There was a staircase, and slowly, I climbed it. At the top was a short landing and four doors led from it. I pushed open the first one that I came to and immediately covered my nose with my hand. The smell was repulsive. It smelt as if someone at one time had decomposed in the room. It was a smell that I had come accustomed to after opening up the dead in the mortuary. There was a double bed set against the far wall, which had a mattress on it covered in dark brown stains which looked similar to dry blood. At the foot of the bed was a wooden chair.
    There was a dresser against the wall, and this was covered in half-melted candles. I could also see a box of matches, which I took, along with one of the candles.
    I closed the door to the room and crossed the landing. Pushing open another door, I found myself peering into what I guessed was once a girl’s bedroom. There was a small bed and a faded pink