The Vampire Always Bites Twice | Wattys 2022 Grand Prize Winner

14

Isla,  ̶B̶r̶e̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶&̶ ̶E̶n̶t̶e̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ Let's Call it Investigating

"Hey!" I yelled, pushing the door further open with my shoulder. "Hello! Anybody home?"

No response beyond the floor creaking under my heels and the door slamming the wall of a short, but narrow hallway. I ventured the three steps to peer around the corner. The studio apartment was empty. And smaller than mine.

"You prick!" I huffed, stomping my foot. "What if she was home?"

Greg leaned against the threshold, grinning. He twisted what looked like a piece of tape in his hand. "Nobody's opened that door since I was last here. Or else this would have been broken."

"You just carry tape around with you like that's normal?"

He shrugged. "What do you make of the place?"

"Come inside and see for yourself."

"We've been over this, woman. I can't enter unless—"

"Somebody invites you, yeah, well, consider yourself invited."

"Unless someone who lives here invites me in."

He sighed, shaking his head in obvious disappointment. I guess I hadn't been completely paying attention in the car.

"Fine! I'll—" I gestured broadly. "Look around, I guess."

Lily's broom closet of an apartment was sparsely furnished. Against one wall was a futon sofa covered in fancy pillows and a comforter, which likely also served as her bed. It was still folded up. An oversized stuffed dog—whatwas that, a husky? – was draped across the cushions. It wore a collar decoratedwith pink hearts. 

Beside the futon sat a bare, little coffee table. Though scattered around the floor of it was a blinking alarm clock, a set of pink coasters, a flamingo shaped lamp, a heap of travel magazines, and – I squinted. Were those nail clippings? Ew.

Some of the pages of those magazines were torn out. Must be how Lily formed the collage of beaches and ocean sunsets on the wall behind her futon. She'd drawn crude stick figures in some of them. A couple holding hands in Tahiti. A surfboard doodled in the sand in Hawaii. Next to the board somebody with garbage handwriting scribbled 'in pink <3'. 

Underneath the stack there was an awkwardly folded slip of torn notebook paper. Mi amor, was scrolled across it in big, looping cursive. I pocketed it.

One of her two windows had an air conditioner it in, wrapped in a trash bag to keep out the cold. I pulled back the floral curtain and found in that same window she'd hung bundles of drying flowers. Bouquets of roses, and lilies (cute... gag) bound in ribbons.

"Somebody was giving her flowers. She's got them drying in the window. Also looks like the coffee table was cleared off in a hurry. Oh, and you're still a prick."

Greg made a mmm noise and I turned to see him scribbling in a tiny notebook. Where'd he have the pocket space for all this crap?

"What else? Can you sense anything?"

No. No I could not. Bad energy and auras and telepathy were out of my wheelhouse. If there were no lingering ghosts, which there didn't appear to here, then no dice. Ugh, speaking of holy ghosts, prayer candles lined the sill of Lily's only other window. At least one of my grandmothers would be disappointed that I couldn't recognize which saint she burned the most.

Lily had a little TV and a DVD player with all her boxsets of Friends and other secondhand sitcoms on display. I recognized the fifty-cent resale label from the thrift store around the corner from the café. She was missing a few seasons of Lost. I couldn't find a router or cable box either.