She expected dusty rooms and small-town boredom.
Instead, Muriel Aubrey inherited a mystery her granduncle died protecting.
His research?
Vampires.
Night Home is a haunting small-town gothic filled with hidden journals, century-old secrets, and the creatures that refuse to stay buried.
A fire lit the small living room in Sophie’s old house, and there was little other light except for a small table lamp. That was one of the first things Muriel noticed, that they felt comfortable in the dark. She had almost gotten used to darkness herself from association. She listened as Sophie read the letter outloud to the small group.
“Well,” Josie spoke first after Sophie put the letter down. “Maybe just try denying everything? I mean, no one believes in us now anyway.”
“Josephine,” Seymour sounded serious, as usual. “He obviously already believes. Accept the fact that we are now in a great amount of trouble—”
“I’m sorry,” Muriel interrupted. “I shouldn’t have done this. I just thought, well… if I wrote it, then maybe it would do some good, and some day people would be able to understand, and… maybe… make people know it’s wrong how they’ve treated you for so long. I guess that’s why I wanted to write it. This is my fault—”
“No, Muriel. No,” Seymour held up a hand and spoke softly, his voice not so cold as it often was. “Look, we all agreed it would be all right for you to write it. You didn’t just go ahead and do it yourself.”
“Don’t go and blame yourself, Muriel,” said Elton. He sat across from Sophie, and was silent up until now. “You and Josie are just kids. You don’t know how bad things can get. You haven’t lived long enough to know how downright dangerous people can be. Then again, Josie might be right. You can deny it all, say you dreamed it up from hearing stories about your mad scientist uncle.”
“Yeah, and I can’t arrest this guy for writing a letter, either,” Karl Stepanek pointed out, “Look, people,” and he went out to the kitchen and helped himself to what was in the refrigerator. “He’s been watching us; the people on the day shift have let me know something is going on with this guy,” and Muriel watched as he put a ceramic mug into the microwave. “How ‘bout we do some of our own surveillance?”
“What? Get a video of this nut hanging outside my house watching me?”
“No,” he came back into the living room and returned to the worn out couch. “Meet him. But don’t be alone. We’ll be watching. It’s my bet he doesn’t know what we look like. The idiot probably expects us to be wearing all black, for Christ’s sake.”
And that was the second thing she noticed when she first met them. They looked almost liked everyone else, and dressed like everyone else. And except for being pale, it would be difficult to tell them apart from most people.
“Find out what the hell the fool wants. Then we decide what to do about it.”
“So what is your plan, Karl?” said Sophie. She picked up her sewing. “We are all listening.”
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