And not even a bed in her own bedroom. And that could only mean one thing. She doesn’t have a bed. She doesn’t need one, because she’s a vampire. Vampire’s don’t sleep in beds, they never do. They sleep in coffins… Which supported what he had suspected all along. Aunt Carolyn really is a vampire. There’s no doubt… But something else came to his mind just then, something just as frightening: If Aunt Carolyn isn’t here, he wondered, trembling, then where is she? The first impulse told him to scoot back to his own bedroom right now, pretend he hadn’t seen anything. He’d play dumb till Sunday morning when his father got back, and then could just get in the car and go home, and Kevin could forget all about this evil place. But that wasn’t like him, was it? Kevin’s curiosity was just too strong; it wouldn’t let go. Like right now, for instance. He knew Aunt Carolyn was up and about somewhere—as most vampires would be at this hour—and he knew that the safest thing to do would be to go back to bed.
