Kissing Corpses Read Online Free Page B

frame and claw feet and the end table next to it had a marble top. A matching chair sat caddy-corner from the couch with a black fur throw pillow propped up in its seat.
    “I keep books in my bedroom,” Rawdon said. “Feel free to get a drink of water. Glasses are in the cupboard over the sink. Ice and water are in the door.”
    Rawdon left the room and I crossed to the sink. I opened the cupboard to find only four regular glasses and two crystal wine glasses. There must have been more in the dishwasher. I went to the refrigerator and pressed the glass against the lever for the ice maker. It whirred and clunked, but no ice came out. I opened the freezer door. It was empty. Shouldn't it have more food? He had been here three months. Did he eat out all the time? He could probably afford it.
    Was I being nosy? Maybe. I maintain that I was just on autopilot. For whatever reason I closed the freezer and opened the refrigerator. There was no food. Instead there were racks with hooks and hanging from each hook was an intravenous bag filled with bank blood. For an odd moment I wondered if he had a medical condition, but none of it made sense. He had a refrigerator full of human blood. I didn't know what Rawdon was up to, but I was certain that I didn't want any part in it.

    “ What are you doing?” he said from directly behind me. I whipped around, preparing myself to yell or run, but Rawdon put his hand over my mouth. It was the first time he had touched me without his gloves and his bare skin was icy cold. “Calm down,” he said. “I can explain.”
    He took his hand off of my mouth. I was in too much shock to say anything. I was standing inches away from a psychopath. I briefly considered kicking him in the groin and running.
    “Sit down with me,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “Let me explain and then, if you want to go, I'll let you leave.”
    I'm not a druggie, but I did eat a pot brownie once in college. What happened next felt just like that. I was thinking about things that I should say or do, but before I could catch up to my thoughts, my feet were already moving and I was being guided to the couch. When my head cleared, Rawdon was sitting next to me, holding my hand, and I was already seated. It was as if I had lost a few seconds of my life.
    “I have not told you a single lie,” he said. “I have lived for twenty years, but I have been dead for a hundred and forty-nine years. My name is Rawdon Hale. I was born in London in 1862 and I was killed in 1882. Nothing about this is untrue. I just left some things out, but as we only met two days ago, there are many things I do not know about you, either. My only intention in bringing you here is for companionship. I mean you no harm.”
    I suddenly seemed to find my mouth again and with the glass of wine still coursing through my system, I didn't bother to filter my words. “You seriously expect me to believe that?” I blurted, “That you drink blood?”
    “An unfortunate necessity,” he said. “Outside of that and the sunlight, I try to live as humanly as possible. As you can see, I find non-violent sources for blood. I wouldn't have a ready supply if I had any murderous intent.”
    “This is too weird,” I said. “It's a joke, right?”
    He took my hand and pressed it against his throat. He pressed my fingers against his carotid artery. If he were a human liar, I would have felt a very rapid pulse. I felt nothing. The only heat in his body came from my own. He was dead.
    “No.”
    “Yes,” he replied. He dropped my hand.
    “It's a trick. You took something. You have a pulse, it's just really shallow.”
    Rawdon stood up. He took his time crossing the room to the old jukebox. I glanced around the room to plan an escape route. When I looked back, he had lifted the jukebox over his head. “Does this change your mind?” he asked. He set it on the rug with a heavy thud. I momentarily forgot my fear of him and crossed the room, ready to prove his