To Save a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,58

hang loosely at my sides. He pulls me closer as he guides me into the run-down house. My mother doesn’t seem worried and walks into the house without hesitation, Ripper following at her heels.

I look around at the dark setting. The dirty wall paper is torn in long shreds and hangs haphazardly from the wall. Some walls are bare to the studs, and there are holes in the wooden floor large enough for a person to fit through. A tangle of weeds is visible below. I keep an eye on Ripper as he clings close to my feet. My steps echo mutely through the dark, hollow house, my unsure steps brushing against the dirty boards.

Asher pulls me through the eerie house to the back where a lone refrigerator stands in an empty kitchen. It’s an old style—all one tall piece without any separation for the freezer or refrigerator. The room is void of any other appliances, and the whole house appears to have been stripped of any other possessions long ago.

However, one forgotten memento stands out starkly within the decaying home. There, on the front of the refrigerator door, are little multi-colored magnetic alphabet letters. Arbitrarily written out of colorful plastic letters are the words “Home is wherever I’m with you.”

A chill runs down my sweaty spine as the words echo in my memory; something familiar tugs at my mind.

How strange.

Asher squeezes my hand and pulls me closer to his side, but I trip over my unwilling feet. He raises his hand hesitantly before knocking on the white, stained refrigerator door.

I stare up at him like he’s lost his mind. I glance back at my mother who is absent in her own mind, staring at the dusty, rotting floor. My mouth hangs open, wanting to say something, but unable to find words that might seem appropriate for this peculiar situation.

How hard did I hit him earlier?

I touch his shoulder, ready to ask him if he has any signs of a concussion when the refrigerator door cracks open an inch. I jump back at the movement, clinging closer to Asher. My fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. I look up at him. A smile breaks across his face, and I start to wonder if I might have a concussion.

The door swings open without a sound and a small, gray-haired woman greets us. She stands on carpeted stairs within the appliance. Picture frames decorate the hallway wall behind her.

Her lined face is kind and creased with a sweet smile consuming her features. Her long gray hair is in swooping piles on her head.

“Ashby!” she says in a shrill. “What are you all standing around for? Get in here.” She waves her arm at us to enter the refrigerator with her. I blink repeatedly at the bizarre woman within the refrigerator. “It’s not every day your grandson comes home.” She tilts her head back to smile up at Asher, her eyes glistening. He mirrors her affection, his eyes lighting up with the first genuine happiness I’ve ever seen in him.

All this time, all the days we’ve run. All the unanswered questions and confusion. All the years he’s been in the compound, sedated and used. All we’ve risked and lost. Asher was coming home.

Asher follows the woman through the appliance. My mother also brushes past me, a vacant but profound look in her sad eyes. Her steps are confident despite her emotions.

They leave me standing with a confused Ripper in the quiet and destitute remains of this house.

My head dips out of reflex as I step cautiously into the well-lit appliance. A crystal light fixture is centered in the entry way. I awkwardly pull the plastic door closed behind us. Ripper and I tiptoe down the short set of stairs to a modestly furnished living room. To my surprise, it’s the nicest home I’ve ever been in.

There are two tan armchairs along one wall. An elderly man in gray button-down pajamas sits in the chair farthest from us, taking in the sight of us with inquisitive dark eyes behind thin black glasses. He must be Asher’s grandpa.

A small oak end table fills the space between the chairs. A lamp provides a yellow hue around the room, sending our faint shadows against the white walls. The carpet is worn but clean, and the smell of vanilla wafts through the small room.

Asher’s immense happiness is overwhelming my emotions. Judging by the vacant look on my mother’s face, she rejected her emotions miles back.

With Ky.

Asher