what you are searching for. FREE!’
Mitch clicked the advert closed again and opened another window. This time he went searching for vampires. That was stupid. The word brought up all kinds of sites. Vampire movies. Books. Chat groups. Physical groups that met in person. There was even a gathering in Denver he could join. Mitch hissed and snagged his tongue on something in his mouth that sliced him. He ran his tongue along his upper teeth with a hesitant gesture.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit!
His heart seized up painfully as it tried to find room in his chest cavity. His canines were longer than normal. And pretty damned sharp. Blood filled his mouth. It sent a shiver of something lustful through him. That grappled with the soreness in his belly and then snaked down and around his balls. And then the stupid ad appeared on his screen again, blocking his view.
‘We have the answers you are looking for! Guaranteed!’
Mitch clicked on it angrily. He then got a series of random numbers and letters he had to enter to prove he wasn’t a bot. He rifled them into the square, making the keys clack in the keyboard. Pressed enter. And then the entire screen went black.
What the hell?
And then some letters started appearing as if someone typed them out for him.
‘Now, answer your door.’
His doorbell rang in perfect accompaniment to the words. Mitch was on his feet and approaching it before he thought it through. If this was a joke, he was taking it out on someone’s ass. He slid the chain off. Turned the bolt. And yanked the door open. And then just gaped.
Because the grim reaper stood there.
Mitch was six foot three. He felt tiny. He was facing the neck closure of a cloak. He stumbled back a step. Caught the move before he fell. He hadn’t been scared since four boys had chased him in third grade, wanting to pound his face into the playground surface. That’s what had started his martial arts training. The sickening feeling he got right now resembled that fear. But it was far worse.
Mitch looked up. The hood was being worn too far forward to make out a face. And then the apparition spoke. His voice sent bass sounds reverberating through the hall and into Mitch’s unit behind him. Something in the kitchen fell with a clatter.
“Mitchell Hartnett?”
Mitch swallowed. Tried to sound more assertive than he felt. It failed. He resembled that eight-year-old who’d been running from a beating. “Um. Yeah?”
“May I come in?”
The grim reaper was asking to come in?
Asking?
And then it hit him. Mitchell Hartnett really was going insane. Or he was already there. He’d dealt with druggies on a bad trip. Listened to psychos suffering all kinds of delusions. Had to handle one guy on PCP once, who’d already broken one cop’s jaw before Mitch had him subdued and cuffed. This was different. Because it was happening to him.
Mitch turned sideways and gestured for the grim reaper to enter. And then he stepped back to avoid touching his visitor. The guy wasn’t just tall. He was pretty damn broad, too.
Great.
Just great.
He didn’t just have to go insane. He had to go a real bat-shit kind of crazy.
Mitch watched the grim reaper reach the center of his living room, taking up a lot of space. With a lot of black. The guy’s head barely missed grazing one of the beams that intersected the vaulted ceiling. Mitch shut the door with a lot more care than he’d shown all morning. And then he leaned against it and waited.
For whatever fate was about to deal.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You are probably wondering who I am and why I am here.”
The man spoke in a conversationalist tone. He didn’t turn around. Both gave Mitch an odd sense of security. And helped alleviate the fear.
“Um. You’re the grim reaper. And you’ve come to escort me to the grave.” he answered.
The figure cocked his head to one side before he answered. “Close.”
“How much time do I have?”
“Well...that depends on you,
Mitch clicked the advert closed again and opened another window. This time he went searching for vampires. That was stupid. The word brought up all kinds of sites. Vampire movies. Books. Chat groups. Physical groups that met in person. There was even a gathering in Denver he could join. Mitch hissed and snagged his tongue on something in his mouth that sliced him. He ran his tongue along his upper teeth with a hesitant gesture.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit!
His heart seized up painfully as it tried to find room in his chest cavity. His canines were longer than normal. And pretty damned sharp. Blood filled his mouth. It sent a shiver of something lustful through him. That grappled with the soreness in his belly and then snaked down and around his balls. And then the stupid ad appeared on his screen again, blocking his view.
‘We have the answers you are looking for! Guaranteed!’
Mitch clicked on it angrily. He then got a series of random numbers and letters he had to enter to prove he wasn’t a bot. He rifled them into the square, making the keys clack in the keyboard. Pressed enter. And then the entire screen went black.
What the hell?
And then some letters started appearing as if someone typed them out for him.
‘Now, answer your door.’
His doorbell rang in perfect accompaniment to the words. Mitch was on his feet and approaching it before he thought it through. If this was a joke, he was taking it out on someone’s ass. He slid the chain off. Turned the bolt. And yanked the door open. And then just gaped.
Because the grim reaper stood there.
Mitch was six foot three. He felt tiny. He was facing the neck closure of a cloak. He stumbled back a step. Caught the move before he fell. He hadn’t been scared since four boys had chased him in third grade, wanting to pound his face into the playground surface. That’s what had started his martial arts training. The sickening feeling he got right now resembled that fear. But it was far worse.
Mitch looked up. The hood was being worn too far forward to make out a face. And then the apparition spoke. His voice sent bass sounds reverberating through the hall and into Mitch’s unit behind him. Something in the kitchen fell with a clatter.
“Mitchell Hartnett?”
Mitch swallowed. Tried to sound more assertive than he felt. It failed. He resembled that eight-year-old who’d been running from a beating. “Um. Yeah?”
“May I come in?”
The grim reaper was asking to come in?
Asking?
And then it hit him. Mitchell Hartnett really was going insane. Or he was already there. He’d dealt with druggies on a bad trip. Listened to psychos suffering all kinds of delusions. Had to handle one guy on PCP once, who’d already broken one cop’s jaw before Mitch had him subdued and cuffed. This was different. Because it was happening to him.
Mitch turned sideways and gestured for the grim reaper to enter. And then he stepped back to avoid touching his visitor. The guy wasn’t just tall. He was pretty damn broad, too.
Great.
Just great.
He didn’t just have to go insane. He had to go a real bat-shit kind of crazy.
Mitch watched the grim reaper reach the center of his living room, taking up a lot of space. With a lot of black. The guy’s head barely missed grazing one of the beams that intersected the vaulted ceiling. Mitch shut the door with a lot more care than he’d shown all morning. And then he leaned against it and waited.
For whatever fate was about to deal.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You are probably wondering who I am and why I am here.”
The man spoke in a conversationalist tone. He didn’t turn around. Both gave Mitch an odd sense of security. And helped alleviate the fear.
“Um. You’re the grim reaper. And you’ve come to escort me to the grave.” he answered.
The figure cocked his head to one side before he answered. “Close.”
“How much time do I have?”
“Well...that depends on you,
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