Ambrose followed Raven all the way down to the first floor. If this is a trap—
“You have nothing to fear, sir. You are safe here.”
“I don’t know why you think I’m afraid. I’m not.”
Raven smiled. “If I may be so bold to say, sir, you are afraid.”
“You’re full of Irish fish rot.”
“If you say so, sir.”
They walked down the last five stairs in silence.
Raven walked over to a closed door.
Ambrose glanced at the front door. It was a handful of steps to his right. So, if I have to escape, I can. If it’s locked, I’ll kick it down.
Raven opened the door and looked back at him. “Come inside, sir.”
“It is safe. I promise, sir.”
“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a shivering new vampire. I’m not afraid.” He pushed past Raven and walked inside.
The room was just as big as a Victorian parlor room should be, with proper straight backed parlor chairs and a genuine feeling of antiqueness. Well. With the exception of the block-shaped TV sitting on the lacquered cherry wood desk.
There were men everywhere. One slouched against the far left wall, mashing buttons on an old GameBoy. A couple stood near him, reading a poetry book together. Another sat perched on one of the parlor chairs, knitting something in too many colors. Three of them crowded the desk, watching something on the TV and roaring out ridicule. “Oh, come on! How dumb is she?” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You just go into that alley all by yourself.” “Hahaha! Dumb. Dumb.Dumb. She should wear a shirt that just says Dumb all over it.”
Ambrose shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Raven stopped next to him. “Welcome, dear sir, to my Bad Vampires Club.”