Free Vampire for Hire by J.R. Rain Page B

crazily through the air, too—and now that I knew what to look for, I saw many vague spirits walking among the living. Murders victims mostly. But some were lost souls, whose lives were taken by drug abuse or physical abuse.
     
               It was into this environment of loss and despair and suffering that I stepped out of my minivan.
     
               A low iron fence surrounded the property. The gate was topped with rusted iron spikes. The spikes were mostly rounded and probably wouldn’t do much damage unless some fell from a great height. The front gate was not locked and swung open on rusted hinges. As I moved across the front yard, I felt eyes on me from across the street. I had attracted the attention of the neighbors in the apartment building. No doubt watching from one of the windows.
     
               I stepped up onto the cement porch, which was cracked and flaked with peeling paint. I paused a moment, getting a feel for the house. Someone was inside, I knew that much. I could hear a TV on somewhere. The house itself was drenched in so much tragedy that it was a beehive of bad vibes, depression and anything else negative.
     
               More than anything, the house was the last known residence of Lauren Monk and her daughter Maddie . I shook my head. What a place to raise a little girl.
     
               Granted, I doubted there was much “raising” going on here. Existing was more like it.
     
               I knocked on the door loudly. The door was made of metal and seemed better suited in a parking garage stairwell. There were dents in the door, about waist high. Someone had tried to kick it in at some point. Maybe many points. I looked around the metal frame. As far as I could tell, they weren’t successful. The door and frame had held firm.
     
               The TV continued to blare. A distant siren wailed behind me. Down the street someone laughed and others followed suit. I knocked again, and again.
     
               No response.
     
               I stepped back, lifted my foot, and kicked the door in.
     
              
     
              
     
              
     
               Chapter Nineteen
     

     
              
     
              
     
               The door swung violently back, slamming hard into the wall behind it, so hard that the doorknob punctured the drywall. It stayed open like that as I stepped in. Unless someone was brandishing a stake or silver-tipped arrows, I wasn’t too concerned about what was waiting for me on the other side. Sure, a bullet to the chest probably would hurt like hell, and no doubt ruin my blouse, but gone are the days where I worried much about my own physical safety.
     
               I found myself standing in a living room. Or a toxic bio-hazard. Take your pick. The long clump of trash to my right was probably a couch. The rectangular clump in front of it was probably a coffee table. Everything from shopping bags to clothing to pizza boxes were everywhere. Including used heroin needles. Everywhere. Hundreds of them.
     
               I stepped over broken glass and empty beer cans and a McDonald’s Happy Meal. I moved through the living room and into a kitchen that hadn’t been used as a kitchen in some time.
     
               Instead, it was being used as a meth lab.
     
               There were bottles and jars with rubber tubing. There were stripped-down lithium batteries piled on tables. Paint thinner and starter fluid containers lined the floors. Empty packets of cold tablets, no doubt containing pseudoephedrine, were piled on the tables and counters. Also on the tables were jars containing clear liquid with red and white bottom layers. Ether and ammonia wafted from them. Propane tanks were everywhere. Okay, the propane tanks made me a little nervous.
     
               There was a strong smell of something else. And it was coming