A Mixed Bag of Blood Read Online Free PDF

rage. He threw open the door, fangs bared, and sprang forward like a jaguar on prey, only to be struck across the face by the cross that had been hanging in the living room. His face burned, the skin bubbling like the stew in a witch’s cauldron.
    “Demon of hellion blood,” Bill yelled, holding the cross inches from Remington’s body.
    “I told you he was a bloodsucker, Daddy,” Tilda said, standing next to her father.
    “You were right, sweetie,” her father said.
    The girl smiled, as if she’d received an A plus on a test.
    Remington had been in worse positions before. He had to keep them occupied, talking. “How’d you know?”
    “My little girl here told me,” Bill said.
    “I mean, how did she know?”
    “Never mind,” the man continued. “I had my own suspicions, demon. When I watched you go into the bathroom, I didn’t see a reflection in the mirror. Thought maybe it was just the angle I was standing at, but then my baby girl here explained a few things.”
    Remington laughed, even though he could hardly move. He needed to keep the dialogue going for as long as possible. Think of a way out of the situation he was in.
    “What things?” he asked.
    “Duh,” Tilda said. “Like how freaking cold your hand was when I escorted you into the living room.”
    Remington wanted to stake himself. How could he have been so careless? It was the damn animal blood he’d been living on. It made him stupid, sloppy.
    “And then you got sick on the couch,” Tilda continued. “I saw the way you looked at the cross. You were fine when you came in, and when my Daddy mentioned the mirror, well, our suspicions were satisfied enough.”
    “Thought you found a juicy nest, bloodsucker?” Bill asked, and rammed a boot into Remington’s ribs.
    The pain was welcomed compared to the draining he felt from the blessed cross. He might’ve had a chance, but with the animal blood being the only drink he’d had, he was at the human’s mercy.
    “I wasn’t going to—” Remington began, but was cut short when Bill sent his steel-toed boot into his jaw.
    “Every word out of your mouth is a lie,” Bill shouted, spittle flying from his maw. “Get the necklace, Tilda.”
    “Yes, sir, Daddy,” Tilda said, a hint of glee in her voice.
    The girl ran up the stairs. Remington heard a drawer open then close. She trotted lightly back down the staircase and handed something to her father.
    “Hold this,” Bill said, giving Tilda the cross. “Keep it on him, close.”
    “I know how to do it, father,” Tilda said, and smiled wickedly, clearly enjoying herself.
    Bill lifted Remington’s head up and looped something around his neck. Part of the item was lifted and held out so Remington could see it. He was wearing a necklace with a plain wooden cross attached to it, the thing obviously blessed.
    “We’ve got a special treat for you,” Bill said, and he and Tilda both chuckled.
    Remington wanted to pass out, but that wasn’t how being in a blessed cross’s presence worked. He would writhe in agony for hours, only feeling as if he might die.
    Bill dragged him down the hall and into the kitchen. Tilda opened a door and Remington was tossed down a flight of stairs.
    “Have fun,” Bill said.
    “Say hello to Teddy and Mommy while you’re down there, Remy.”
    Remington lay at the foot of the stairs, cold, rough cement below him. The door at the top of the staircase closed, leaving him in complete darkness. But like all vampires, he had night vision, allowing him to see in the gloom.
    With as much discomfort as he was feeling, he felt a sense of relief, even joy, befall him. They were keeping him prisoner, which left the possibility for escape, at some point. Although weak and achy, he glanced around. If he could gather enough strength, and find something to cut the necklace off—
    He froze mid thought.
    A rotting-flesh odor washed over him, much like the one he smelled upstairs, only it was stronger now. To his left, something