Victims of Monsters

Havermouth, Present Time

There was a knock on the door, a heavy confident thud that repeated three times and then waited, expectantly.

Aislen grabbed hold of Talen’s hand. “Don’t answer it daddy,” she whispered. “Let’s pretend we’re not home.” The night was crawling with face-eating monsters, heavy with cold rain, and bodies that came and went. With a sudden, gut-wrenching intensity, she wanted her werewolf mates to return, and all five of them to be back to the river house.

“Please, don’t answer the door,” she repeated.

The knock came again.

Talen looked down at her, and then at the door. “Who is there?” He called out. A compromise, she thought, between her sudden dread and the demand of whoever stood behind the door. What did she expect? She didn’t know. If the other person was frightening enough that she had to worry about her vampire, than a thin wooden door wouldn’t prevent their entry, she admitted to herself.

It was like in a horror movie, however, she thought, and if you answe