They reached the house under pouring skies. Black as a giant hole, the roof of Wooster-Boalt swept into view. Then the vampire dove, bringing it closer and closer. Keltie let out yet another scream. She was certain he meant to dash her against the grainy shingles, or perhaps eviscerate her skull on one of at least four chimneys visible in the murk.
Instead, he brought her down gently as a leaf, until his toes touched the back lawn, at which point he glided over the wet grass to a small, unassuming door.
“Keys,” he snarled.
Keltie blinked. “Huh?”
“Reach into my pocket and grab the keys. I’d have Lloyd at the door…but then you killed him, didn’t you? Of course you did.”
Her trembling hand found one of his pockets and dove in. It returned with a sealed packet of orange tin foil.
