Free The Darkening Dream by Andy Gavin

that stuff?”
    “Dmitri never said, but it works.”
    Alex carefully took a dab of the yellow goo on the tip of a forefinger and gently applied it to Sarah’s wounds. Despite the stench, the ointment was cool and soothing, and within seconds her discomfort receded. The sudden absence of pain, the touch of Alex’s hands… She closed her eyes and drifted.
    “Sarah, are you all right?” Sam asked.
    She felt her cheeks flush. She retrieved her leg and yanked her stocking back on.
    “My foot’s much better now.” But her hands also stung. “Maybe I’ll take some of that salve on these cuts, too.”
    Alex set to work, Sam watching him intently. Then he looked at Sarah.
    “Our vampire expert says the undead will have returned to its grave by dawn,” he said. “Which leads us to the plan—”
    “Sunlight will burn it,” Alex said, “but to make certain it’s dead — for good — we need to put an ash stake through its heart, chop off its head, and boil it in wine or vinegar.”
    “Poor Charles,” Sarah said. Anne would’ve said something funnier.
    Alex put away the ointment, and Sarah took stock of herself. Her injuries no longer hurt, but—
    “You don’t have to come,” Sam said.
    Alex tried to catch Sarah’s eye. She focused on the barn floor.
    “I’m coming.” She was supposed to be a part of this. “Will the creature fight back?”
    “Hopefully, not very well,” Alex said. “The devilish spirit that animates him is much weaker during the day.”
    “Splendid,” Sarah said. “Breakfast with the damned.” Finally, a line worthy of Anne.

    The new Congregationalist graveyard was in the old section of town, walled off from the nearby streets by ancient trees. This morning, mist pooled in the low spots, shrouding the grassy spaces between the headstones. In the first light of dawn Sarah could make out Charles’ grave, simply a rectangular patch of naked earth.
    “The plot doesn’t look disturbed,” she said, “but at least the local theatrical troupe provided some sinister ground-fog.”
    She giggled. Her nerves must be getting to her.
    “The vampire will be in its coffin,” Alex said. “A young one wouldn’t risk even a hint of sunlight.”
    “How did he pack the dirt behind him?” Sam asked. “Do they float down like ghosts?”
    Alex shrugged. “I’ve only done this twice before, and those graves were stone crypts. Let’s get to work before someone comes.”
    The digging took longer than expected, even though both boys worked quickly. Sarah watched the edges of the yard for intruders. Women’s rights were one thing, but men were welcome to the hard labor.
    Finally, she heard the soft thud of metal on wood. A few minutes later Sam uncovered the lid while Alex laid out some garlic cloves, a sword-like knife, and a burlap bag. He donned a pair of heavy leather gloves and grasped his wooden spear.
    “Sam, use the iron hooks I gave you to open the box. Sarah, stand back.” Alex positioned himself at the head of the casket, spear raised.
    Sam worked the iron rod under the lid until it creaked and splintered. Next, he wedged the head of a shovel into the gap and stepped on the handle. The lid shattered with a loud crack. Sam batted the broken wood aside with the shovel.
    Charles lay in his coffin, eyes closed. His fangs and claws were gone, his hands folded soft and clean in front of him. His clothes were filthy and torn, the blood on his shirt dried a dark brown. There were gouges in the side of his head where Sam had struck his skull, but the face was otherwise intact.
    He looked so peaceful. Sarah’s heart ached at the thought of what lay before them.
    “They sleep deeply during the day,” Alex said, “but see how even this early morning glow burns him?”
    Dawn light now streamed through the trees and shadowy fingers reached back from the gravestones. Down in the grave Charles still slumbered in darkness, his white face and hands were turning pink, and small wisps of smoke