Fright Night (2011) Prequel

Part One

The Devil Came Down to Georgia

(Author)

Okay, something has come unwired in my brain. I blame all of you who have made the Fright Night remake interesting; Vendehla you're one of them! Shame on you! Oh, I am still madly in love with the real Fright Night; not a problem. But, damn it, I just have these flood of ideas and I haven't even watched the damn remake twice yet. Oh, it just came in the mail and I'm waiting for my brat to get home so we can sit down and experience it together a second time in three years. Before I even watch the darn thing again I'm already vomiting all over the computer remake stuff! Maybe it's because Collin Ferrell has somewhat grown on me these past two weeks because, I ain't stupid, he is a fox in his own right; no he's no Chris Sarandon (1985) because that's a whole other class of vampire. They play two separate types of vampires with the same name. I guess that's how I've come to see the remake; two different movies with the same name; that's how you have see things to make a real separation.

Well, I hope y'all enjoyed the last tidbit I wrote giving the new guy Jerry a bit more 'breathing' room. Well, I'm not sure, right at this moment, where this is going to go but I do have this really creepy image of a woman in my head at this very moment. Where is it going to fit into the remake? The hell if I know! I'm playing this by ear instead of planning ahead; sorta how it went with the other two remake fan fictions. I'm gonna take a deep breath and let my remake vomit continue! Okay, another thing that has possessed me with this strange ability to write shit for the remake. There's a song I've had on repeat for the past thirty minutes called Chainsaw by SleetGrout. I think that's pushing me along as well creating this creepy chick image. You know what; maybe this isn't an exact entrance into the remake; just thought of something! OMG! *points into nowhere* THERE IT IS! I FOUND IT! *runs for it*

If you believe I have lost my ever loving mind; all you remake lovers' fault! *points accusingly at everyone* Yep, so leave me alone! *runs away & runs into the brick wall that is the Fright Night remake* BASTARDS!

Little suburbia outside of Las Vegas recently went into shock by some really strange happenings that resulted in explosions and some serious vampire butt kicking. Charley Brewster and Peter Vincent saved the town and the world from vampire domination! But, wait, why did it happen there? Why didn't it happen elsewhere? Why had the wife-beater wearing, pick-up driving, and studly vampire Jerry Dandridge choose that particular location to begin a vampire uprising? Had he attempted elsewhere and failed? What took him so damned long to get things going? So many questions that are aimed at events that led to the suburban nightmare's decision to unleash hell in that particular suburban neighborhood. So, where had this demon vampire in a stunningly good looking guy's skin gone before the finale? Hmm? Let's see shall we? Where had he lived and entertained on taking over before meeting a surprising end?

Hmm?

Where…?

It was another typical ending for summer in the good old southern state of Georgia. Mid August, typically one of the hottest and more humid times of summer, signaled the beginning of the school year for most of the state. The humid mornings are a stagnant mid seventies temperature, streets clustered with parents carting their kids to school and by the overly heated late afternoon again those streets are jammed with traffic bringing those same kids home. It was the same for historical mini metropolis founded in the early eighteen hundreds; an old mining community now spanning outward from the historical district with fast food restaurants of all flavors, gas stations aplenty, and every other type of business expanding the city limits; the city limits of Villa Rica. Those expanding changes were easy for most residents; the older neighborhoods remained the same while newer subdivisions sprouted rapidly with house after newly constructed house. Hovering along the edge of the expansion was another rapidly rising community, nearly approaching its own identity with a strip mall, banks, and hundreds of millions of dollars worth of towering houses clustered together within multiple subdivisions. The steadily growing community of Mirror Lake had become a prime location for any desiring family and anything looking to purchase a piece of property. That was the perfect set up for a particular new addition to the community; a single male amongst a swarm of families by the name of Jerry Dandridge.

For this newcomer, buying a house dab smack in the center of the growing community was the perfect way to scope out a potential ignition to a long awaited scheme. He was unafraid of letting himself be known to the community; no one would suspect an attractive bachelor making a humble living as a construction worker for the city of Atlanta, so he would have them think. He was doing construction alright but not on any of those interstates or highways or growing high rises; all construction was within the confines of his newly acquired home. There was plenty to prepare and plenty of time to do so while keeping up his good old boy image with the locals. He had it good; the neighbors believed he was gone during the day sweating in the heat flexing his muscles while assisting in causing those long traffic jams on interstate 20 when in fact he was sleeping in the comforts of his home until night fell. It was at night the charms were unleashed on those unsuspecting neighbors; flashing a smile here and there. He trolled the beer aisle at the local Publix grocery store getting eyed by married and unmarried women. He picked the ripest fruits from the large produce section while inauspiciously eyeing the ripest of human pickings to satisfy his other significant tastes. So, polite were these southern folks and blind as hell to what truly hid behind his attractive dark eyes.

There were many times he found himself approached by every type of woman imaginable; from the sickeningly shy and newly high school graduated eighteen year old girl to the overly perky typical housewife. Yet, he was careful; didn't want any suspicion to come his way; so typically he would admit flattery, give them a sample of his charms and simply purchase his beer and fruits and left them wanting more as he strutted out the store towards his parked motorcycle. Once or twice, possibly more, he would find one of those eager ladies following him then tossing out their number; more amused by the housewives because of their willingness to have temporary memory loss about their husbands. He would eventually take them up on their offers; return to his humble digs, whip out the prepaid cell phone and dial theirs. There were times they would freeze up and realize their guilty actions then apologize for attempting to be a floozy; onto the next. Then there would be the one ready and willing; typically the housewives who were tired of being left home all alone while their husbands were off pulling in the big dough. So easy they were when their marriages bored them. He would swoon them into making arrangements to meet him or possibly come to his home. Most of the time they would request a daytime meeting which he quickly explained was impossible because of his line of construction work. They would quickly submit to an evening rendezvous but were cautious with their lies to their husbands.

Once the call was finished he would discard the cell phone and purchase another from the local Wal-Mart. No links to his part in their supposedly willing disappearance. Those perky housewives were typically used for sustenance instead of being prepared for another purpose. Yet, always careful, he would space out those housewives. The ladies he played with for a short time but a leader always needed some male testosterone amongst the females. So, he would choose a young man here and there, simply rip into them and bury them with the rest of his collectives. There was always an overflow of youthfulness amongst those he collected; nothing too old for he had to think of the appearance of his lovely growing collection.

And, so, Jerry Dandridge continued with his life and its mission within that southern community. Another night after a restful day he awoke in typical fashion. About that hour most families were gathering preparing to sit down for their meals as he prepared for his own type of meal. He showered; had to smell good after a day of construction sweat; then dressed appropriately in that good old boy fashion. Once dressed in his typical somewhat warn denim jeans, a gray wife-beater, and a simple navy blue button down and, of course, his favorite pair of slightly worn biker boots, he grabbed a beer from the fridge then strolled to the living room flipping on the television to check up on the local pro team's progress; had to learn as much about the area in order to strike up small talk with potential meals. Once the beer was downed he tossed the amber bottle into the trash he'd snatch up a ripe apple then step into the attached garage through the interior door flicking on the interior light illuminating his precious hog.

With a push of a button the garage door rose up allowing the humidity weighed evening hair to flow inside. He wasn't bothered by the humidity; damned cold most of the time. He bit into the apple and held it with his teeth and lips while rolling the motorcycle out from the garage. It was time for some local fun. It was a Saturday evening and a concert event was at the local venue called The Mill where just about every resident attended to support their community. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect but knew there had to be some stragglers he could easily pick off. So, he tossed the apple, chewed on the large juicy chunk then mounted the bike followed by revving the engine. The bike rolled from the newly paved driveway and sped through the maze of roads throughout the massive subdivision. Onto the Mirror Lake's main road then into the main city limits rolling towards the historical district. It was a short drive, a few miles, and there he was, amongst the living. He parked the Harley on a side street just over the railroad tracks and dismounted. He was surprised by the amount of folks; the street where the venue was located was blocked off with orange cones and construction type sawhorses. People were everywhere and practically overloaded his senses with multiple arrays of human scents.

The entertainment for the venue, Velcro Pigmies, hadn't started yet but the people of Villa Rica were swarming like flies prepared to show their community support. Every age range; from babies in strollers to elderly with walkers cluttered the entire grounds surrounding the stage. He moved towards the venue walking along the side street. His eyes were watchful of all his surrounding, mainly focused on studying each passerby. He was intrigued by the variety of men and women. Couples walked hand in hand; mere middle school youths to up in age adults. It seemed that humble mini metropolis was filled with all walks of human life. All types of groups he spied; clusters of loudly chatting teens and sweet families controlling rambunctious children. Perhaps finding a straggler in that bunch might not be as easy as first thought. He had to give it a shot; he was damned starved. There were a few familiar faces amongst the chaos; neighbors and employees from the grocery store and a few of those wandering eyed housewives. The one thing he enjoyed was how instantly every age range of female was immediately drawn to take him in with their glazing over eyes. He simply spread his lips into that deceptively charming smile which made them silently swoon.

Well, the evening went on; the eighties tribute band amazingly was entertaining and got the entire crowd of residents hyped and cheering and many dancing before the colorfully lit stage. He enjoyed watching and studying people; standing back keeping his eyes on lookout for a meal prospect. The hours passed and there were a few prospects; again he was persistently approached by ladies of all ages where conversation was to a minimum. Nearing the end of the festivities he finally snagged himself the perfect meal item. She hadn't come alone, came with a group of college buddies who had unknowingly encouraged her to place her at the top of his grocery list. He went all out, charms and all; flashing that stunning smile and flirtatious dark eyes. It really took no serious effort to have her practically falling all over herself. Within at least thirty minutes her hands were already touching his arms or more daringly, his chest; yep, she was hooked and almost ready to be reeled in. He used his charming laugh though he had no understanding what the hell he was laughing about but it seemed to draw her in even further. Whatever worked he used it; though it never really took much at all.

The show was over and people began to scatter returning to their vehicles; it was merely ten. He stood on the sidewalk surrounding the venue watching his soon to be meal giddily explaining to her group of friends she was leaving with him. He could easily add her to the collective but had no desire to actually bring her back to his humble abode; plucking from such a public event made him more cautious so typically he would feed somewhere else and leave them where they lay. This twenty year old college student; he believed her name was something like Tiffany, one of those perky girl names; she came bouncing away from her departing friends who were practically cheering her on. Stupid college kids; he thought to himself while smiling upon her return; all of them were half in the bag drunk including, he believes, Tiffany. She eagerly grabbed onto his arm for staggering support and he escorted down the side street towards his bike. Oh, she giggled and giggled thinking herself truly lucky having happened upon him; he kept smiling and couldn't wait to get it over and done with to put her giggles on permanent mute.

Once mounted on his bike, she putting on the helmet, he asked where she would like to go. She literally hugged him with her arms happily wrapping around him, "I don't know." She continued to giggle with her face pressed between his shoulder blades. He had to do all the thinking; he somewhat shook his head. Well, he hadn't quite visited the old cemetery tucked in a secluded corner on the back outskirts of the Mirror Lake community. "Surprise me!" she sang too loudly followed by another giggle. "Okay," he sang right back starting up the bike and giving a few good revs. He was going to surprise her alright; the thought made his smile brighten a bit more sinisterly. He backed the bike from the angled parking space then hit the gas carefully pulling passed the local police station inconveniently across the street from the venue.

The traffic was a bitch just getting back over the railroad tracks but after a while the bike sped onto Highway 78 that led straight out of town. Tiffany, he still wasn't sure if that was her name, continued to giggle as he turned the bike onto the main Mirror Lake Drive and drove passed his subdivision moving them into the barely lit outskirts of the community. No other vehicles were around as the single beam headlight of his bike lit the way. The bike sped past newly developing subdivision and gradually the sides of the roads faded from suburban development into untouched nature. No more random streetlights or residential homes; the perfect peaceful and secluded environment for him to focus on a little play time followed by feeding time. Ahead was the two-track that led to the secluded cemetery. Why he hadn't used it before? It was perfect for his needs; an old and almost forgotten cemetery. The bike slowed and carefully rolled onto the two-track and his passenger finally took notice where they had gone. "I know this!" he heard her practically shout in his ear with that heavy southern drawl slightly slurred by alcohol, "In high school, my friends and I used to come out here late at night!" All he heard was, 'blah-blah-blah-and blah'. "Oh, yeah, this is the old Proctor cemetery!" she continued shouting in his ear which was about make him stop the bike right there and shut her up.

The headlight beamed forward down the center of the slightly overgrown two-track. Tiffany or whatever her name was, suddenly unwrapped an arm from around him and pointed at what looked like another two-track branching off from the main one. "Yeah, if you go up that there's the old Proctor place!" she kept on shouting; really started to piss him off, "And up ahead it's the Proctor family cemetery! It's really spooky at night. Are you sure you wanna go there?"

The sooner he got there the better! He just nodded and kept the bike balanced and steadily moving passed the branching two-track. "They say it's haunted!" her shouts continued, "When me and my friends went up there we got the shit scared outta us 'cause Shawn Carroll said he saw some eyeballs glowin' in one of the windows! We all screamed and ran outta there so damned fast it was funny!" She laughed loudly. Well, he thought, she hasn't seen scary yet which prompted him to chuckle a bit. "Oh, there it is!" she shouted flinging her arm over his shoulder and pointing forward at the old iron fencing that lined the old Proctor family cemetery, "You best just park it here 'cause you can't go driving passed the gate." Fine by him; he planted his boots to the two-track turning the engine off then used the tip of his boot to flip out the kickstand. What's her face quickly got off the bike before him pulling off the helmet, her hairspray doused bleach blonde hair without a dent. As he dismounted the bike she was already skipping her way to toward the half opened and leaning rusted Iron Gate. He was going to have the time of his life shutting that one up. "Come on!" he listened to her shout, again, but thankfully not in his ear this time but her high pitched southern drawl was about to give him a damned headache.

Tiffany, if that's her name, slipped passed the gate. "Damn, you didn't happen to bring yourself a flashlight did you?" she turned to look back at him. Her eyes frowned, where the hell did he go? "Hey!" she shouted, "Where'd you go?" She looked around, saw the sheen of the motorcycle as the light from the half moon somewhat dulled the darkness. She crossed her arms over her chest with her head shifting about with her eyes following, "Hey, don't go tryin' to scare me now!" she yelled out, "It's already creepy enough!"

"Boo!" he shouted which sent her into the loudest damn high pitched scream which practically startled him. His eyes grimaced as the scream seemed never ending; felt as if his head were going to explode from such torture.

Her scream finally faded then she scolded him, "Damn it, why'd you do that?!" she cuffed his shoulder, "You almost made me piss myself!"

"Sorry." He sort of apologized; it was pretty much playtime. Not desiring another high squeaking word to come out of her big mouth, he grabbed her by the face and reluctantly planted one on her. He could taste the booze the very moment he kissed her and when she breathed heavily the taste was even worse. Perhaps playtime could be shortened and head straight into feeding time. Time to get rid of the boozy taste in his mouth. He shifted one hand grabbing the stiff mess of blonde hair jerking her head to the side. "Hey, not so rough, huh." He heard that annoying voice of hers again. He rolled his eyes; they filled with complete blackness. Now he wanted her to really experience scary. He turned her head then flashed his pearly white fangs which didn't exactly shut her up. She went into another high pitched, ear shattering scream upon seeing his fangs. He rolled his eyes; she started go into a struggle fit while he tightly gripped her hair and continued to scream. That's it; he was through with her damned voice! He swiftly brought his fanged mouth over hers and she still screamed but quickly she went silent with brightly painted eyes gone wide in horror. After a slight gurgling sound he pulled back with blood trickling down his chin. His blackened eyes indulged in the horror radiating from her wide eyes. He released her hair and she went stumbling backwards slapping her hands over her mouth; blood oozed between her fingers.

With a toss of his head he spat out the large chunk of her tongue he had effortlessly tore from her big mouth. His hand wiped across his mouth and chin. "That's better," he commented having silenced her in the most part; she was basically left mumbling incoherently while backing way keeping her mouth covered. He jumped forward, arms flung up, and fingers twisted into claws then shouted, "BOO!" which sent her spinning around running out of the cemetery. He darted to the left with a chuckle.

Poor what's her name stumbled as she ran passed the psycho's Harley. She tried to scream but only blood spewed from her mouth. She whined while trying to make her way down the bumpy two-track. "Where you going?" she heard his voice come from the surrounding shadows, "I'm not through with you yet!" She murmured what was an ill attempt at a scream of horror then continued stumbling about the two-track in desperation. Her damned flip-flops kept tripping her up, snagging onto some exposed roots and rocks. She found herself staggering, the blood continuing to drain from her mouth. Suddenly the back of her hair was snatched and her head was swiftly pulled back exposing the front of her throat. Unable to scream her wide eyes watched the gleam of his fangs catch the moonlight. She gurgled loudly the moment those moonlit fangs ripped into the front of her throat; her body began to twitch and convulse as her blood was sucked from her body with ease. Her skin grew pale beneath the layers of makeup, eyes became vacant, and finally her entire body went limp dropping hard down onto the two-track.

He hummed with delight; she might have been annoying but she sure hit the spot. His tongue licked over his bloodied lips and again he hummed. He again wiped his hand over his mouth smearing the bloody evidence. Firstly he strolled up to his hog, flipped open the leather saddlebag and removed a hacksaw; can't have a high pitched twit coming back from the dead. He returned to what's her name's drained corpse then knelt down placing a hand over her wide eyed face. His lips lightly puckered and a playful whistle sounded as the toothy blade of the hacksaw was placed into the center of the gaping wound at the front of big mouth's throat. He continued to whistle while he worked dragging that hacksaw easily back and forth sawing into the muscle. The whistling stopped as he gritted his teeth together beginning the process of sawing through the bone. With steady and pressure saws back and forth the bone was cut through then the remaining flesh at the back of the neck. Before standing he wiped the saw blade across that woman's pastel blue tee shirt. He returned the hacksaw into the saddlebag then stepped back to the decapitated whoever she was.

Bending down he scooped up her limp body and flung it over his shoulder then leaned down snatching the severed head by the bleached hair. Thankfully she gave him an idea of a good place to dispose of her; the old Proctor house that was up the branching off two-track. He turned from the bike and effortlessly carried the drained body, while swinging the head back and forth, down the two-track then stepped onto the one that led to the said house. He marched up the overgrown inclined two-track; less used than the other. In no time he reached the end and peered up at a three story abandoned structure; surrounding it was a barbwire fence hung with old metal 'no trespassing' signs. He stepped to the fence and tossed the body and head over then gripped one of the fence posts ripping it easily from the ground which dropped the fence to the ground. He stepped over the bundled barbwire, again scooped up the body and head then preceded toward the front porch of the brick structure. His boots stomped up the stone laid steps of the front porch which was held up by white paint chipped pillars. He moved to the front door where two wood planks were nailed in the form of an 'X' with sprayed graffiti. He again dropped the body and head then grabbed hold of one plank, jerked it effortlessly free followed by the other. Scooping up the body and head for a third time, he kicked the door in which swung violently and struck the wall.

He stepped over the threshold and peered around; moonlight seeped through the cracks of the boarded main floor windows. Before him was a set of wooden stairs. He shook his head; nope, the cellar of the old place was best for disposal. He marched along the corridor stretched beside the staircase moving towards the back of the house. The boards persistently creaked but were pretty sturdy since houses of its age were always built on sturdy foundations. He paused near the back of the house; his eyes frowned then from above he heard the second level floorboards creak as if someone else was within the decrepit structure. His head tilted back and eyes looked up at the plaster pealing ceiling. Perhaps an animal; he guessed then continued forward. He moved through an entryway at his right finding a kitchen oddly still filled with typical kitchen items but everything heavily coated in decades of dust. Most houses the kitchen is where you find the entrance into the cellar. He kicked a door open; nope, a butler's pantry. He moved to another door, kicked it in; nope, the entrance to a side screened porch. He moved to the final door and kicked that in; yep, the cellar. He simply flung the body over his shoulder and watched it tumbled and fall down into the blackened abyss of the cellar. He lifted the head with both hands and winked at the frozen wide eyed express then did a little bowling move sending that head rolling and bouncing down the old stairs. His brushed his hands together then reached closing the cellar door.

(Author Interruption: Sorry, I am officially apologizing for my previous 2011 Fright Night fan fiction the one with Alice. Just finished watching the movie and DAMN IT I fucked up like big time on details! I am sorry but at least it was entertaining if you take out my boo-boos! Again, sorry!)

He took a step back and began turning around; a quick flash of movement caught his eye. He froze for a moment; brows frowned questioning if his own immortal eyeballs were playing a tricks on him. He shook it off and moved out of the kitchen. He glanced around the old place; good workmanship; his eyes took some time studying the original woodwork. To his left was a set of stairs identical to the stairs at the entrance. His hand patted against the strong wooden banister, "Nice," he commented then prepared to leave but again his eyes caught a flash of movement which was shown through the moonlight being blocked at the top of those stairs then his ears picked up another creaking sound. His head tilted curiously; he sniffed the air but picked up no aroma indicating someone, as in mortal, was in the house. He leaned back at the foot of the stairs taking a look up the wooden stretch. He thought for a moment remembered something what's her face mentioned about someone having seen glowing eyes in one of the windows of the old plantation styled house. His head shook; couldn't be.

He continued along the corridor almost casually while licking clean the corners of his mouth. He reached the front door and paused finding the door closed remembering it being open. His eyes again frowned then shifted side to side suspiciously. Again his keen hearing caught another creaking sound coming from above. His head tilted back and eyes looked up at the ceiling. It wouldn't be good at all if there happened to be someone in that house. Perhaps a dirty homeless person happened to be hiding upstairs; the filth happened to cover up the mortal scent. "Oh well," he hummed then turned around facing the front stairs; time to clean up before things got too messy. He moved onto the stairs and made his way up. It was sure damned tricky being what he was; constantly having to watch his damned back for any little slip up that could put a hindrance on his mission. There was always something to do or someone to do in. Loose ends weren't allowed in his line of work, not even some crazy homeless person that no one would believe but it was still a necessary to take care of.

Onto a landing his boots stomped. Again he sniffed the air trying to catch that familiar scent. It was starting to bug the hell out him; what homeless person would smell that bad it would cover up something so easily detectable? He just couldn't imagine sinking his teeth into something that filthy; he practically gagged imagining something so nasty. Just a quick twist of the neck with this one; he thought to himself while stepping around the spiral curve of the banister. His nails grown into their claw-like state tapping against the faded varnish of the banister. His eyes scanned around the landing while his ears listened carefully for any further movements. Someone was there, he just had that feeling. It looked as if he were in for a game of hide and seek; he huffed, just so much work. "Alright," he spoke out, "I know your there so you might as well come out." He stepped along the rail lining the staircase opening scraping his nails along the dust, pealing up a thin layer of the aged wood. Again he listened carefully and finally a noise and it came from the right on the other side of the rail. His head snapped to the right where he spotted a door halfway open then a distinct motion was visible by the moonlight again being blocked out. "Hmm," he hummed and moved for the door. Just as he reached for it the door slammed followed by the sound of the door locking. He grabbed the old brass doorknob and gave it a firm twist with his jaw clenched; the internal mechanism loudly snapped. His lips perked with a smile. He took a slight step back then slammed the sole of his boot against the door forcing it inward; it crashed back against the interior wall of the room.

He eased his way through the doorway, his eyes quickly scanning the room. Again he sniffed the air not picking up the damned mortal scent which was becoming a tad bit frustrating. His fangs sprouted in response to the growing frustrations; wasn't in any mood to fuck around or be fucked around with. His arm reached and hand grabbed the door then swung it slamming it closed behind him. His eyes searched the shadows within what was a bedroom; dust and furniture decay heavy within the stale and stagnant air. He crossed his arms over his chest; could practically feel some sort of eyeballs on him coming from somewhere in that rectangular room. If this was some homeless person he was going to throw them out the window as punishment for being annoying. Damn, what if was just some animal he's getting frustrated with? He shook his head; an animal wouldn't slam and lock a door. "Okay, games over." He called out to whoever was hiding, "You obviously saw what I did and so there's no way around this, you're dead." He wasn't one to beat around the bush; straight down to business which was the one motto he thrived to live by. He took a few steps forward keeping a close watch of his surroundings. "So, let's get it over and done with," he again spoke out, "Just come out, come out wherever the hell you are."

His eyes looked to the old bed to the far right; the frame broken causing the mattress cockeyed down against the floor. Why is it they always insist on hiding under the damned bed? He shook his head and uncrossed his arms. He moved towards the bed but before he reached it another peculiar sound came from behind him. With a quick spin his body aimed at the fireplace at the far wall and noticed a cloud of ash billowing from the fireplace opening. "What the…" he mumbled with his brows again frowning. He marched toward the fireplace hearing the distinct sound of something making its way up the chimney. This was no homeless person, something was definitely off. He stopped before the rising cloud of ash; his eyes followed up the wall to the ceiling while listening to the distinct scraping sounds moving steadily to the third floor above.

He quickly left the bedroom and marched out onto the landing then made a quick search of the third floor access. Door after door he kicked open throughout the second floor; bathrooms and bedrooms but no third story access. He was beyond frustrated knowing damned well something other than some simple bum was inside that house. Something saw what he did and that he wasn't having. What he was dealing with wasn't totally clear; could it be another vampire? Usually his instincts picked on the presence of another immortal. He froze and stared up at the pealing ceiling; the distinct sound of rushing feet moved above and his eyes closely followed. Drywall dust drifted down from above with each motion and lightly dusted about his tensed features. His eyes held closely to every motion while his ears listened closely. Slowly his moved keeping his eyes on the ceiling; each of his steps followed the direction of those distinctive motions from above. He was going to get his hands on whatever it was not matter the method and the moment was right there. "Gotchya," he snickered then with ease he leapt upward sending his fists tearing through the fragile ceiling then grabbed what felt like a damned ankle. He clung to the slightly crumbling ceiling with his one arm halfway through the busted opening.

"I got you!" he almost laughed feeling whoever or whatever trying to pull free then, "Ouch!" he grumbled and pulled his arm back out of the busted opening. He remained clung effortlessly to the ceiling; his eyes looked to his hand discovering a pretty nasty bite, "Damn that stings." He dug his claws into the ceiling and maneuvered looking up through the hole. Something damn well bit him and that he wasn't going allow unpunished. Things got pretty quiet as he continued to peer up through the hole, "Where the hell are you?" he grumbled with his lips slightly pulled back snarling his fangs. He sniffed the dank air coming from the hole; now he picked up on the scent because whoever or whatever was close by; definitely not mortal. He dropped back and landed firmly onto the hardwood floor below. His eyes focused one more time on that hole. No mortal meant there was no real worrying about his secret being revealed or spoken of. He lifted his bitten hand then licked his tongue across the bite wound and within moments it faded with no remnants besides some blood. He left to the stairs and made his way down.

Within the hole in the ceiling came a motion then a quick flash of what looked like two eyes catching the bit of moonlight. Upward through that hole a figure moved swiftly within the dark third story attic space aimed toward the circular window where moonlight streamed through. The moonlight was blocked upon the figure moving before the window. From the window, peering down at the ground below, eyes again reflected the moonlight. Far below those eyes watched Jerry Dandridge leave the old house; he disappeared down the overgrown two-track.

Jerry stopped once under the cover of the tree canopy hovered over the two-track. He turned having that same sense of being watched. His eyes scanned up the front of the massive structure and stopped at the circular window on the third floor. Just as what's her name mentioned, he saw two distinctive orbs reflecting the moonlight within the dark window. He wasn't sure what he was dealing with but had more important matters to focus on. At least he knew where to find whatever it was; he knew one thing for sure, had a pretty human feeling ankle but a bite about as nasty as his own. He left with that lingering sense of eyes on him. Even as he retrieved his motorcycle, that damned feeling wouldn't go away. It was like having a song stuck in your head and you can't pin point the damned name. He returned to his humble digs to continue on as usual and knew it wasn't like whatever it is will go calling the police department.