SECOND BOOK IN THE TIDES OF SORROW SERIES.
Cain had heard tell that others like him existed but, he knew none were of his making. Vampires, however, make mistakes too, they slip up and one such error from five decades ago suddenly appears before Cai...
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As they opened the door, a whorl of dust rose, dancing in the sunset's rays before settling again onto the old floorboards. The fading light washed the cabin's rustic interior with warm orange and gold, creating pockets of shadow where the dwindling rays could not quite reach.
To compensate the onslaught of the evening's shroud, however, Nick and Craig had sourced a small supply of candles and 2 oil lamps. The Fallen were nowhere to be seen, but Cain could hear them rummaging about in another room.
A couple of old leather sofas, arranged in an L-shape, sat in front of an old wood-burning stove, its glass front still intact, but blackened. Moth-eaten throws draped over the seating, their checkered patterns, once bright, vibrant, were now greyed by years of neglect. A low coffee-table was host to a solitary mug and one or two magazines strewn across the surface.
The windows, some whole, were dirty, latticed with cobwebs and dust. Simple drapes hung, forlorn, like tears, from their wooden poles.
On a table beside one of the windows facing the dried-up stream, a plate, smeared with remnants of an old meal lay with a fork crossing its centre. Bark beetles scurried across the table and plate, stopping momentarily in their search for a nibble before continuing their foraging to the window ledge. There, they joined the parade of insects entering and exiting through a large crack in the sill.
One could easily be of the opinion the cabin, in its heyday, would have been quite a warm and welcoming little house; a haven to escape the rat-race. A place of quiet contemplation, somewhere to unwind. Now it was just sad and unused, neglected, forgotten, the only residents being the fauna and insects of the forest.
"How quaint," Becky commented, a hint of the familiar melancholy lacing her voice.
Cain huffed. "Your eyes and romantic imaginings deceive you." He gestured over the threshold then quietly closed the door behind them. He caught her questioning look as he turned to face her. "This is a crime scene," came his stolid response.
Her mouth twitched, a little nervous as she shifted from one foot to the other. "R-recent?"
"About 2-3 weeks ago, I guess. I was too late." His voice was full of regret.
"Then the police! We shouldn't be here..."
"I don't think they even know about it. This is too far out in the middle of nowhere and whoever the victim was, perhaps no-one deemed them worthy enough to report as missing."
She nodded, duly alarmed but trying to maintain a composed exterior. "So you are stalking the place. That's why you are in the middle of nowhere, sleeping under the floor, isn't it?"
Cain acquiesced with a grunt.
"So - what happened?" Becky swallowed.
He knew it was a question formed from a human's morbid curiosity, but one, he felt, was best left unanswered. For all he had not arrived in time to stop it or dispense justice on the perpetrator, his senses had picked up on the brutality inflicted. He would spare Becky the details. "There is no need to concern yourself. I now sense the culprit will not return. I think he used this place for a while, but has moved on."
