“A half dozen. There are also vats of blood simmering at a low boil and being slowly syphoned into bottles a drip at a time. There’s a walk-in freezer, frost on the walls, where he stores the bottles. It’s like his own little blood factory.”

“Is there any place for Kiara to get in?”

“Yes, there’s an unlatched window in a window well at the back of the house. She just has to push it open and ease herself down.”

“He’s upstairs painting with blood and guts. He’s got some guy on the verge of death with his stomach split open, and he’s dabbing a paintbrush in him. If I had my body with me, I’d have vomited. He was so intent on his work, it was almost ridiculous; the nonchalance. No matter how we hurry to get help, that guy on the table isn’t coming back.”

“It reeks of death a hundred times over down in the basement.”

“I hope Kiara shows up soon.”

While they stood there waiting, they tried to lean into each other to find comfort from the horror. He reached up and put an arm around Melody but it passed right through her. It must have been around one AM when they saw a car come up the street and pull over on the wooded side five or six houses down. Someone got out of the car and came toward their spot.

He could tell by the silhouette of her braids in the light from the streetlamp and her trim figure it was Kiara. “Here we go,” he said.

“I’m going to stay beside her and see if I can help in some way,” said Melody.

Owen was going to answer, but by then, Kiara had taken out her cell phone and dialed his number. He was reeled into his body and he instantly heard his cell phone ringing next to him on the night stand. He answered it. She spoke in a whisper. “What did you see?” she said.

“He was in the attic. Melody says there’s an unlatched window in a window well at the back of the house. You just have to find it and push it open. Let yourself in.”

“Got it,” she said.

“Be careful,” he called out, but she’d already hung up. He pictured her taking the long-barreled revolver with the phosphorous shells out of the bag that hung across her shoulder. When she had the gun in hand, she slung the bag across her back, pointed the weapon upward, and glided across the street with stealth and grace. The image of her cleared from his mind, and he headed for the kitchen to see if there was another bottle of bourbon squirreled away anywhere.

14