The Handmaiden of Death by Sarah Stafford

Author:Sarah Stafford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampire, vampires, gothic, supernatural, paranormal romance, YA, detroit, michigan
Publisher: Carpe Noctem Press
Published: 2015-08-12T00:00:00+00:00

The place was out in the middle of nowhere, set in a hollow recess along an isolated stretch of dirt road fraught with potholes. They’d very nearly passed it by owing to the fact that it’d grown dark and much of the low, single-story house was obscured by overgrown trees and shrubbery. Rainwater pooled around the foundation and the sidewalk was cracked and uneven, lending the home an overall look of benign neglect.

Slater pressed the doorbell.

Yellow light flooded the narrow porch. Standing on the threshold was a round-faced woman who stared back at them from behind a pair of thick spectacles. She wore a frumpy, ankle-length dress that only served to accentuate the plumpness of her figure, and her long, unkempt blonde hair was streaked with gray.

“Mrs. Barnes?”

“That’s right,” the woman replied.

“May we come in?”

She nodded.

“Sit,” Johnson said.

Amber dropped her belongings and sat down on a threadbare recliner. She looked around the room and cringed. The walls were painted a sickening shade of bubblegum pink and every nook and cranny of the cramped little living room was packed full of chintzy religious knick-knacks and porcelain dolls. Their glassy, lifeless eyes seemed to follow her, watching her every move

from behind their frizzy, artificial curls.

“I apologize that my husband’s not here to greet you,” JoAnne said, taking a seat across from them on a careworn blue sofa. “He’s not due home from work ‘till around seven.”

“That’s fine,” Johnson replied. “Here’s a copy of the temporary custody order. There’ll be a mandatory review hearing scheduled sometime in the next few weeks.”

Amber gasped. “Weeks?”

“Hush!”

She eyed Slater and jammed her hands in her pockets. Something scraped the skin off her left knuckle.

“Ouch!”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” she lied.

The three adults stared at her skeptically for a moment before Johnson continued explaining the eventual outcome of the investigation. All the while, Amber’s focus was on the mysterious object in her pocket. She ran her fingers across its smooth, flat surface, pausing when she encountered a row of raised indentations.

“Do you understand, Amber?”

“Wait, what?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Johnson asked.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t hear you.”

“Flighty, this one,” said Slater.

“I am not flighty!”

“This is exactly the sort of defiance I mentioned to you over the phone, Mrs. Barnes,” he said. “I’d be sure to keep a firm handle on her.”

“Jesus, what the hell’s your problem?”

JoAnne gasped. “We do not take the Lord’s name in vain in this house, young lady!”

“Okay, okay...sorry.”

“As I was saying,” Johnson continued, “in the meantime, your aunt has legal authority over you so you’re to conduct yourself accordingly. Understood?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“Should you or your husband have any questions, here’s my card. The best way to reach me is by e-mail.”

“We don’t have a subscription for that nonsense in this house.”

“Or via phone is fine, too. That’s my direct line.”

Johnson got up and slung the satchel over her shoulder.

Slater followed, opening the door for her. He paused in mid-stride and turned around. “And, ma’am, I’d recommend searching the girl’s belongings for contraband. She runs with that sort of crowd.

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