That must have been why there was water in the truck, but no actual food. It was a good thing I hadn’t been able to lift him. I might have carried him in the front door, to the more comfortable extra bedroom upstairs, where the morning light would have reduced him to a nice pile of ash. The guns hadn’t really bothered me last night, but they bothered me now plenty. I had no way of knowing if he was a good vampire hunting bad people, or a bad vampire killing for blood, or just sport. Maybe the only good vampires were the make-believe ones from the Buffy Universe. If the legends were true, someone might have tried to kill him last night. That someone had involved me by dumping him so close to my house. I’d done the last thing expected; sheltered a total stranger in a basement with no windows. If I’d left him outside, he’d be a pile of wet ash by now. The truck would be empty, and I’d have called the police when I went out this morning to check the quarry.
