Adam and Tariq lapsed into silence. Just as Adam parted his lips to speak, the piercing trill of Tariq’s phone cut through the stillness.
“Speak of the devil. That should be Ophelia with an update.” Tariq’s tone was light, his grin spreading as he answered the call. But within moments, the smile faltered, his expression morphing into one of concern.
“What do you mean attacked? Where?” Tariq’s back turned towards Adam as he spoke, tension radiating fromhis posture.
Adam leaned forward, his own anxiety spiking. “What’s going on?” he asked
“Give me a minute, I’ll be right back. Stay there.” Tariq’s voice was strained, no longer cheerful. “There’s been some kind of incident. I need to make some calls.” With those words, he excused himself and stepped out the back door.
Adam counted to ten, listening to Tariq’s muffled voice fade before he sprang into action. He darted to the backdoor and slid the bolt into place with a click.
He snatched up Tariq’s keys with a swift motion, the cool metal grounding him momentarily. A glance at the butcher block yielded a sturdy knife which he pocketed alongside the keys, just in case. Then he made for the basement door.
Three sliding locks stood between him and Matteo. His fingers fumbled in their haste but managed to undo each one with a loud clack that echoed through the silent house. The basement beckoned, a dark maw waiting to swallow him whole.
Adam paused at the top of the stairs, steel gathering in his resolve.Am I really about to threaten a starving vampire?The thought should have terrified him, but all he could think about was Vincent walking into Richard’s trap alone.
He steadied himself before he began descending the uneven wooden steps into darkness. What would he find? Would Matteo even help him? The questions gnawed at him as he reached the bottom.
The basement was cooler than the rest of the house, a chill that seeped into Adam’s bones and set his nerves on edge. Shadows loomed around him, cast by sparse light from dozens of candles illuminating the far corner of the room. Inone corner lay a makeshift bed and beside it, various objects that seemed out of place: chains, books in foreign languages, and a box of medical supplies that contained a variety of dusty tubing.
Matteo’s back, a landscape of scars and sallow skin, quivered as he sat hunched on a yoga mat. The basement air was thick with the scent of wooden decay, and the dim candlelight cast an eerie glow on his twitching shoulders. Adam’s knock on the wooden paneling echoed in the space, reverberating like a warning bell.
The vampire’s reaction was immediate and feral. He spun around, his eyes two pits of abyssal blackness, fangs bared in a snarl that was more animal than man. Adam recoiled, instinct screaming at him to flee, but he suppressed the urge. His fingers tightened around the knife handle behind his back as Matteo lurched forward.
Taking a deep breath, Adam forced himself to meet Matteo’s predatory stare. He slid the knife into his back pocket and made the sign for help with deliberate calmness.
Matteo growled low in his throat, pointing toward the stairs with urgency. «You need to go. Not safe,» he signed back, desperation etching his movements.
Adam refused to relent. He signed help again, injecting every ounce of pleading into his eyes. They held each other’s stare for a moment that stretched too long.
Matteo slapped the ground next to him—a clear command for Adam to leave. But Adam shook his head, miming please against his chest with an open palm. He needed answers, and time was slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass.
His eyes flicked around the room, locking onto awhiteboard and marker on a shelf. Pointing at it, he conveyed his intention to Matteo before moving with painstaking slowness toward it. The vampire watched him like a hawk tracking its prey, his nostrils flaring and muscles tensing with each of Adam’s careful steps.
With the whiteboard in hand, Adam scribbled quickly: “I know Vincent went after Richard. Tell me where he went.”
Matteo’s twitch became more pronounced as he pointed once more toward the stairs, a guttural growl escaping him.
A thud from above made Adam’s heart skip a beat—Tariq trying to break in. Shit. The urgency bore down on him like an avalanche as he tapped the board insistently, locking eyes with Matteo again.
«No,» came Matteo’s stark refusal through stiff fingers.
Adam wiped the board clean and wrote with renewed fervor: “I’m not leaving til you tell me.” The message hung between them like a challenge.
In a flash that betrayed his vampiric speed, Matteo closed the distance between them. He towered over Adam now, shaking with barely contained violence as he repeated the sign for please.
Adam knew what he was about to do was reckless, but he could no longer ignore the sound of Tariq trying to get back into the house. Time had run out.
Vincent would do this for me. He’d do something even stupider.
He slammed the whiteboard down onto the ground and whipped out the knife from his pocket. Matteo’s eyes flicked down to the blade for a second as Adam’s hand trembled. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but Matteo’s refusal left him no choice. He had to do something drastic to get the information he needed.
With a swift motion, Adam drew the blade across his forearm, wincing as it split his skin. Blood welled up from the shallow cut, quickly spilling in fat droplets onto the concrete below.
Matteo’s reaction was instantaneous. He recoiled as the metallic scent hit his nostrils, black eyes blown wide. His fangs receded slightly even as his fingers curled into rigid claws at his sides. Adam watched the war play out on the vampire’s face—the man struggling against the monster inside.
“I’m not leaving without that address,” Adam said, mostly to himself.
