Moon Island (Vampire for Hire #7)

Moon Island (Vampire for Hire #7) Page 51

The mausoleum looked creepy, even to a vampire.

Admittedly, I didn't know what the hell I was doing, or what, exactly, I was looking for. Yet, Kingsley had made a good point: destroy the man responsible for all of this insanity.

That was, of course, if the man responsible was still alive.

Official death records had reported the man's death decades ago.

I tended to not question official death records.

That is, of course, until my attack seven years ago. Now, I supposed, anything was possible.

The mausoleum was situated about two hundred feet away from the main home, and was surrounded by a thick row of evergreens. Still, who would even want a mausoleum so close to a family vacation home?

I didn't know, but it was perhaps someone who needed to keep an eye on the mausoleum. Or, rather, someone in the mausoleum who needed to keep an eye on the family.

Or both.

I shook my head at the insanity of it all.

Insane or not, the threat to Anthony and myself was real. And any threat to my kids was going to get my full and unwavering attention.

The mausoleum was composed of cement and plaster, its portico supported by two intricately carved Corinthian columns. Three broad stairs led up to what I imagined was a heavy front door and was, once I checked, locked.

I briefly wondered how Kingsley was faring against the Thurman clan. I could only hope they'd lost interest in him once they saw that I was gone. Either way, I was certain the big fellow could take care of himself.

Somewhere out there, crashing through the forest, was my friend Allison. My new and very close friend, who was, amazingly, distantly related to the Thurmans.

Go figure, I thought, and raised my foot.

I wasn't sure how heavy or thick the metal door was, but decided to kick with all my strength.

Which I did now, slamming it as hard as I could just under the brass door handle. The door didn't swing wildly open, and the handle didn't explode off the hinges, either.

But something cracked and the door moved.

I kicked again, perhaps even harder, and this time, the door did swing open.

I stepped through the doorway.