نفس خون آشام فصل 17

Vampire Breath - Chapter 17

Cara glanced to the doorway, then back to me. “We have to get out of here,” she whispered.

“That’s your plan?” I exclaimed. “That’s it? That’s a plan?”

She nodded and raised a finger to her lips. “Maybe if we run away from the castle, we can find help,” she explained. “If we stay here, we’re doomed no matter what we do. If we stay here, we’re in his power.” “How is anyone going to help us?” I argued. “This is over a hundred years ago—remember? How will anyone outside the castle help us get back home to the future?” “I don’t know,” Cara replied unhappily. “I only know that if we stay here in this creepy castle, we don’t stand a chance.” I opened my mouth to argue some more. But I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Cara was probably right. Our only chance was to escape.

“Come on,” she whispered. She grabbed my hand and started to pull me along the rows of coffins.

I held back. “Where are we going?”

She pointed. “To the window. Let’s see if we can climb out.”

The room was as long as our school gym. We walked quickly between the two rows of open coffins. I couldn’t take my eyes off the old wooden coffins.

Vampires sleep inside them.

Those were the words that floated through my mind as we hurried past them.

Cara and I may soon sleep in them, too.

I shivered. And stopped. “Cara, look.” I pointed to the window up ahead. “This is a waste of time.” She sighed. She saw what I meant. The big window was set very high up in the wall. It stood way over our heads.

We couldn’t reach it even if we had a ladder.

“The only way to get through that window is to fly,” I said softly.

Cara frowned and stared up at the window. “I hope you and I don’t spend the rest of our lives flapping our bat wings and flying in and out of that window,” she said.

“There’s got to be a way out of this castle,” I told her, forcing myself to sound cheerful. “Come on. Let’s find the front door.” “Freddy—no.” Cara pulled me back. “We can’t just go running down the halls. Count Nightwing will see us.” “We’ll be careful,” I said. “Come on, Cara. We’ll find a way out.” We turned and jogged side by side past the empty coffins. Through the door. And into a long, dimly lit hallway.

The hall appeared to stretch for miles. Dark wood doors lined both sides. The doors were all closed. Above each door, a gas lamp provided a soft glow of yellow light.

My shoes sank into the thick, blue carpet. The air smelled sour. I glanced back at the coffin room. An ugly stone gargoyle leered down at me, perched above the door.

I turned away from its evil stare and gazed up and down the long hall. The rows of doors stretched in both directions. “Which way?” I whispered.

Cara shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. We just have to find a door or window that will take us outside.” We made our way silently over the thick carpet. The gas lamps cast a gloomy, dim light. Our shadows seemed to hide behind us as we walked.

Cara and I stopped at the first door we came to. I grabbed the brass knob and turned it. The heavy door creaked as it opened.

We peered into a large, square room filled with furniture. The furniture was all covered with white sheets. Chairs rose up like ghosts beside a long, covered couch. In a corner beside a darkened fireplace, a grandfather clock stood guarding the room.

Cara pointed to the heavy black drapes that stretched over the far wall. “There must be a window behind there. Let’s check it out.” We raced across the room. My shoes slipped on the floor. Glancing down, I saw nearly an inch of dust spread over the floor.

“I don’t think this room has been used for a while,” I said.

Cara didn’t reply. She grabbed an end of the heavy drape and tugged. I reached to help her. The drape slid back. A dust-smeared window stood behind it.

“Great!” I cried.

“Not so great,” Cara replied glumly.

I saw instantly what she meant. The window had thick black bars across it.

“Uggggh.” With a disgusted groan, Cara shoved the drape back into place. We hurried back into the hall and tried the door across the hall. We stepped into a small room filled with luggage trunks. The trunks were stacked on top of each other up to the high ceiling.

No window in this room.

The next room had an enormous, old dark wood desk in its center and shelves of ancient-looking books from floor to ceiling. Another heavy, black drape covered the window.

I eagerly pulled the drape back—to find another dust-covered window. And more thick, black bars. “Weird,” I muttered.

“This castle is like a prison,” Cara said in a shaky whisper. Her dark eyes glowed with fear. “But there has got to be a way out.” We crept back into the long hall. I stopped when I heard a soft fluttering sound.

Bat wings?

Were the vampires returning?

Cara heard it, too. “Hurry,” she whispered.

We pushed open the next door and darted inside. I carefully closed the door behind us. Then I turned and saw that we had entered a big dining room.

The long table filled most of the room. It was bare except for a tall candelabra in its center. Stubs of white candles poked up in the candelabra. Wax had dripped in small puddles onto the tabletop. The puddles were buried in a gray layer of dust.

“No one has been in here in a long time,” I muttered.

Cara was already at the window. She pulled back the drape to reveal another barred window.

“Aaaggggh!” She tore at her hair in frustration. “Every window! Every window has bars!” she wailed. “And we can’t keep walking through these halls. Someone will find us.” Staring at the long, dust-covered dining room table, I had an idea. “Vampires don’t eat,” I said.

“So what?” Cara cried. She slammed her fist against the heavy black drape.

“So they probably never go in the kitchen,” I continued. “We’ll be safe in the kitchen. And maybe there is a kitchen door. Maybe…” Cara sighed. “Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.” She shook her head glumly. “There are a thousand rooms in this creepy old castle. How will we even find the kitchen?” I took her by the shoulders and guided her to the door. “Well, this is the dining room, right? Maybe the kitchen is close to the dining room.” “Maybe maybe maybe,” she repeated bitterly.

I guided her into the hall, then led the way to the next door. We pushed it open and peeked inside.

No. Not the kitchen.

We quickly crept down the hall, trying door after door.

No kitchen. No kitchen.

We kept glancing back, watching for Count Nightwing, hoping we wouldn’t bump into him.

We turned a corner. Found ourselves in a narrower, darker hallway. I tried the first door.

Yes!

An old-fashioned kitchen with a wide fireplace hearth, a wood-burning stove, and blackened pots and pans hanging on the wall beside the hearth.

My eyes glanced quickly around the room. And landed at the broad kitchen window.

No black drape. And no bars!

“Yaaaay!” Cara cheered.

We both dove for the window. Could we open it?

We tried pushing it up from the bottom. But there were no handles, no place to grip the frame.

“Smash it!” Cara cried. “Smash the window open!”

I ran to the wall and pulled down a heavy metal skillet. I lugged it to the window. Pulled back my arm. Prepared to swing.

“Oh!” I cried out when I heard a cough.

Behind us. From the hallway.

“It’s him!” I whispered. “It’s Count Nightwing!”

“Smash the window!” Cara insisted.

“No. He’ll hear us! He’ll find us!” I whispered back.

I lowered the skillet to the floor. And turned back to study the window.

Another cough. Closer this time.

“Look,” I whispered to Cara. “It pushes out, I think.” I reached with both hands and pushed at the dust-smeared windowpane.

Leaned into it. Pushed with all my strength.

Slowly, slowly, the window slid out. With a groan, I pushed it open as far as it would go.

A gust of cool night air swept over me. I grabbed Cara’s hand and started to give her a boost.

A noise behind us at the doorway made me jump. “Hurry—!” I whispered. “He’s coming!” My heart pounding, I pushed Cara up to the window. Then we both scrambled frantically out onto the ledge.