Free Vampire Seeker by Tim O'Rourke

people were
     dressed better than others. The women, I noticed, wore long, pretty dresses with frills at the ends of each sleeve and at
     the hems. Others wore dainty gloves and carried lacy umbrellas over their shoulders. Men wore suits, waistcoats with watch
     chains glinting from them. Their suits were sombre-looking, grey or black in colour. They wore what looked similar to bowler
     hats on their heads. I had never seen so many men all in one place with long, droopy moustaches. A few children darted along
     the street, calling out to each other as they chased a wooden hoop. Their feet kicked up plumes of white dust which looked
     like ash.
    I looked in wonder at the buildings, which stood lined on either side of the street. Again, I was struck by how similar everything
     looked to the movies I had seen. But then I guess, if I were making this whole new world up in my head as I waited to be found
     in 21 st century London, wouldn’t my mind create a reality with images I had previously seen?
    We passed a blacksmith’s, built from planks of pale wood. The building was tall, with a roof that slanted away on either
     side. Across the front in black coloured stencil, it read,
Smiths – Blacksmith & All Metal Work. Anvil Work – Horse Shoeing – Wagon Workshop.
To my right I saw a small wooden building with the words
Bath House
written across the front of a wooden board that swung to and fro in the wind. Now, I really wouldn’t have minded making
     a stop there. The thought of a nice deep bath full of water to sink into made me miss home more than anything. Next to this
     there was a telegraph office, but I knew there was no Internet or Wi-Fi here. On the opposite side of the street there was
     a clean white building, which was raised on a wooden boardwalk, with steps leading up to it. The sign above it read in huge
     black lettering,
The National Bank
. Now if my mind was creating everything I was seeing, I wouldn’t have been too surprised if a group of bandana-covered
     men burst through the doors in a hail of bullets, clutching banks bags with the ‘$’ sign on the front of them.
     But we passed it quickly and quietly, there was no gunfire, sticks of dynamite exploding, or bank robbers.
    Next to the bank was a larger building, and again, this was raised on a boardwalk. It had wooden pillars supporting a wooden
     overhang with a sign hanging from it which read,
General Store - Dry Goods and Clothin’.
On the porch there was a stack of barrels and two rocking chairs. In these sat two bearded old men, who played some game
     on a black and red chequered board.
    Ahead I could see Harry, Louise, and Zoe slow their horses outside a tall building. It was on two levels with a railed walkway
     running around the top of it. Off of this, there were several doors. Fixed to the side of the building, there was a wooden
     staircase that led up to the walkway and the rooms leading from it. Just like the General Store, there was what looked like
     a porch leading to a set of thick doors. There were several windows set on both floors and in each of them burnt an oil lamp.
     The building looked clean and welcoming, and I didn’t have to read the sign above the porch to realise it was the town’s
     hotel and saloon.
    There was a timber rail fixed to the ground outside, and Harry and the others tethered their horses to it. There was a tin
     drinking trough, which the horses were quick to bury their muzzles into. The preacher slowed our wagon to a stop and climbed
     down from the seat, and I followed. The others joined us beside the wagon. Taking a watch and chain from his coat pocket,
     the preacher looked at it. Then turning to the others, he said, “It’s time we met with this Englishman, Spencer
     Drake.”
    With his hat pulled low, the long tails of his coat trailing out behind him, the preacher climbed the steps and pushed open
     the set of batwing doors, and entered the saloon.

Chapter Twelve
    A wooden bar ran the length of