Read The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1) for Free Online

her, unable to break my alarmed eyes away from hers. They appear to glow and a shiver races through me when her grin seems a little crazy. Do vampires still exist?
    “Well, here you are,” she says brightly as we come to a stop outside a dark little house. “Enjoy your stay, Daisy.”
    And with that, Sam skips off back down the remote path. I hadn’t realised how dark and secluded it is until now, what with Sam’s constant chatter distracting me. “Shit,” I murmur to myself. It really is solitary, the cottage looking a little like an abandoned chalet in the woods that features in every single horror movie.
    If it wasn’t too late to run back and hail the cab driver again, I’d be spinning on my heels and legging it.
    “Maybe it’s okay inside.” I nod my head wildly at my own reassurance.
    The key is exactly where Mrs Haversham said it would be – under the pot of dead flowers.
    My eyes close and my heart rate shifts into dangerous territory when the door creaks loudly as I push it open. A faint smell of something I can’t put my finger on greets me. It’s not a putrid smell. In fact, it’s quite pleasant. Definitely not what I had expected.
    Fumbling around for the light switch, I’m surprised when light floods the small room. It’s really quite enchanting. The furniture is old, but it’s clean and cosy. The fire is filled with old burned out logs but there doesn’t appear to be a coating of dust anywhere. A small but adequate kitchenette sits to one side of the room and I’m astonished to see Mrs H left dirty pots in the sink. I thought she’d have been particular about cleanliness, especially when locking the place up for the winter. In fact, now that I look more, it seems as though she just upped and left suddenly. There’s a few things placed around the room. A mug on the side table, a plate sat on one of the sofa cushions. There’s even a pair of boots by the front door, caked in mud and dried leaves.
    The late hour and with all the travelling, a yawn makes my eyes water, and deciding to tackle the house tomorrow, I go in search of the bedroom.
    I’m shocked to find that Mrs H hasn’t even bothered to change the sheets. The bedding is pulled back from the bed, and the bottom sheet is wrinkled.
    Shaking my head, frustrated and tired, I find some clean bedding in a cupboard on the landing hallway and for the next ten minutes’ fight my way through fresh sheets and pillows.
    “Yes.” I sigh in appreciation as I sink into the soft depths of the foam mattress, thankful for Mrs Haversham’s choice of luxury furnishings. I had meant to explore the rest of the house, but exhaustion has me passing out within minutes.
     

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Frazer
     
    Stubbing my toe on the edge of the table leg, I giggle. Why the hell do I always sound like a girl when I’m pissed? And why do I always find it funny when I hurt myself? Does that make me kinky? I purse my lips, pleased with my newfound sex appeal. Chicks love that shit.
    I’m so wrecked. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I have to be up early tomorrow. I need to wheedle my way into Tilly’s good books and get in before someone else snatches up the role I’m perfect for.
    Feeling along the wall for the light switch, I give in and just stumble up the stairs in the darkness, telling the bottom step to shush when it creaks on my way up. Rolling my eyes, I shake my head; it’s not like I’m going to wake anyone. There’s no one here.
    The bloody pie from earlier is killing me. I could do with downing some milk to settle the reflux of acid, but I know now I’ve managed to climb up the stairs that going back down them won’t be quite as easy. Although it would definitely be quicker. So shrugging off the burn in my chest, I pray the acid won’t find a way out further down, and wobble down the landing to the bedroom.
    Peeling myself out of my clothes, I pause when I swear I hear the softest, nearly inaudible murmur. But when silence settles