Fangs A Lot-2

October 24

"Louisa, how in the world did you convince Chet to move the party here?" asked John Gage, looking around the deserted old house.

"A little persuasion can go a long way, Johnny," replied the young woman. "I told him that atmosphere can make or break a party. He jumped at the chance to hold his little shindig in a supposedly haunted house."

"This old dump sure looks like it could house a few ghosts," commented Roy Desoto, wiping a hand across a dusty table. "It reminds me of Dracula's castle."

"That's the whole point, Roy," grinned Louisa. "I had a friend of mine hammer together a few old-style coffins for the basement. He even volunteered to play the part of my 'creator'."

"So, what needs to be done?" asked Mike Stoker.

"Once Trent gets here, he's going to rig the lights to flicker at will. I thought he would be the best choice, considering he's an electrician. He's in on the prank, too, by the way. He is the one who is going to 'vamp' me, so to speak."

"You've got this down to the smallest detail," said Hank. "I just hope I can look surprised enough when it all goes down."

"Just do exactly what I told you to, and everything will run as smooth as silk," said Louisa. She looked up as a truck pulled up in front of the old house. "That's Trent. Let's give him a hand bringing in his equipment."

Two hours later, everything was in place. Trent had tested the lights to make sure they worked the way Louisa wanted them to and made a few adjustments along the way. The conspirators left the run-down old mansion, confident that, in seven short days, Chet Kelly would think twice before playing another prank.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

October 31, Halloween

"I have to admit, Louisa, this place is the perfect place for a Halloween party," said Chet Kelly, looking around him.

"Didn't I tell you?" replied Louisa with a grin. "I'm just glad the reputation of this place didn't scare you away."

"What are you talking about?" questioned the Irishman.

"You mean you don't know?" gasped Louisa, turning pale. "Charles Dunmire, that guy who was in all those vampire movies back in the 50's, lived here until he mysteriously disappeared a couple years ago." She glanced around, swallowing nervously, playing her part to the hilt. "He really thought he was a vampire, you know. I heard from a very reliable source that he bit some girl in the basement and killed her!" she whispered.

Chet stared at her wide-eyed. "Are you serious?" he gasped. "The guy thought he was a vampire?"

Louisa nodded convincingly. "He kept his coffin in the cellar, too," she said, thoroughly enjoying the Irishman's terrified expression, but not letting it show. "I bet you anything it's still down there, too."

"What's still down where?" asked Hank Stanley, coming up behind them.

"Charles Dunmire's coffin, Hank," answered Louisa. "You remember all the stories about him, don't you?"

"About him killing that girl so he could drink her blood? I sure have. I heard he died, but they never found his body," replied the Captain.

"Rumor has it that he's still in this house, Hank," said Louisa. "Searching for his next victim."

"Nah, there's no such things as vampires," muttered Chet. "The guy probably packed up and left or something."

"No such things, huh?" demanded Louisa. "Why don't we ask Dr. Brackett? I'll bet he would know."

They went in search of the doctor, drawing stares from the other guests. "What the heck are they gawking at?" muttered Louisa grumpily.

"Maybe because you're showing a lot of cleavage?" commented Chet. He gestured to the young woman's extremely low-cut wench costume. "Good thing this party is adults only," he grinned.

"Maybe it's that stupid Long John Silver outfit you're wearing, Chester," retorted Louisa. "I hate to tell you this, but your parrot is molting," she chuckled, picking a feather off his sleeve.

"Hey, Lou! Great costume!" shouted John Gage from across the room. Where's the rest of it?"

"Very funny, Johnny," teased Louisa. "Probably in the same place you left your mustache, Rhett Butler!"

The paramedic grumbled something unintelligible, looking down at the ground for his lost facial hair.

"There he is!" crowed the young woman, pointing over in the corner. "Dr. Brackett! We need you to settle an argument for us."

"Sure," replied the doctor, trying not to stare at Louisa's half-exposed breasts.

"Chet here says that there is no such thing as a vampire, and I say there is," said the young woman. "Who's right?"

Brackett paused, as if trying to remember. "Well, actually," he said, "vampires in some form do exist. I've read several accounts of people drinking human blood in order to survive. The man who owned this house, for instance. Now, what was his name?" he wondered, stroking his chin with a finger.

"Charles Dunmire," put in Louisa.

"Right, Charles Dunmire," confirmed Brackett. "He vanished without a trace a few years ago. His body was never found, either."

"Come on, Doc," grinned the Irishman. "You're just pulling my leg...aren't you?"

"It's documented fact, Chet. Dunmire murdered a young lady, just about Louisa's age, right here in this house. He confessed that he drank her blood to keep himself alive."

"How come I never heard of this guy?" demanded Chet.

"Because it was hushed up, Chet," said Dixie, who had been standing beside Brackett the whole time. "Dunmire paid a small fortune to keep it out of the newspapers."

The assembled guests looked up as the lights flickered. *"Right on cue,"* thought Louisa. *"Good going, Trent!"*

"Now why did that happen?" asked Chet. "The lights were working just fine when I was here earlier setting up for the party."

"It's probably a fuse, Chet," said Louisa. "I'll go downstairs and see if I can find the problem."

"Go downstairs where?" gulped the Irishman.

The young woman uttered an exasperated sigh and planted her hands on her hips. "Downstairs in the basement, hose jockey! Where else would the fuse box be?"

"Um, maybe you shouldn't go alone. Who knows what's down there?" stammered Chet.

"Lots of scary stuff," grinned Louisa. "Probably an old coal stove. What's the matter, Chester? Afraid Charles Dunmire might be down there?"

"You're the one who brought him up, Lou. Go ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Fine. Give me a flashlight, chicken. I'm not afraid of an old nutcase who thought he was a vampire."

The Irishman handed the young woman a flashlight and watched as she crossed the room and opened the door leading to the basement. He looked around at his guests, wondering if one of them was going to follow her.

The lights flickered again, electricity crackling faintly. They came back on for an instant, only to go out completely, leaving the old house in total darkness. The guests heard Louisa's voice as she muttered to herself, wondering where the fuse box was located. Her words grew faint, then stopped. She gasped suddenly, then her voice rang out in a blood-curdling scream of utter terror.