Part 28 (1/2)

Summoned by the crash, King came back in the room, ears raised. Before Nia could reach the unopened box of Trojan condoms, the dog plunged his snout into the items that spilled out of the drawer, and came up with the condoms snared in his teeth.

”King!” David said. ”Get back here!”

”Be a honey, King, and give those to me,” Nia said.

The dog, perhaps overwhelmed by the attention and thinking it was time to play, darted out of the room, tail wagging.

Nia rolled her eyes. ”Your dog is something else. I'll be back right back-after I give him a Mississippi beat-down.” She pulled on her blouse and hurried out of the room.

I feel like I'm living in a movie, David thought. And whoever is directing can't decide whether he wants a horror flick, or a comedy.

His gaze happened across the drawerless slot in the nightstand. A manilla, business-size envelope lay within. A letter?

He plucked it out of the gap.

”All right, baby,” Nia said. She came into the room and held up a couple of wrapped condoms. ”I salvaged two before your mutt tore up the box. If you ask me, I think he's jealous.”

”Bring your dog next time to keep him company,” David said, absently. The mail was addressed to his father; it had his Mason's Corner address in black, typed characters. It bore a London return address and was postmarked in London, England, six years ago.

Nia sat beside him. ”Where'd you get that?”

”It was in there” He pointed to the empty s.p.a.ce. ”It must've been hidden underneath the drawer.”

”Hidden? That's strange”

He touched her leg. ”As much as I hate to say this, I think we'll have to postpone getting our love thang on, right now. I've gotta check this out. It might be important.”

”I was going to suggest the same thing, though my body's gonna need a minute to cool down. You had a sista ready.”

”Not as ready as I was” He kissed her quickly. ”Don't worry, I'm a fast reader”

”Hmph. Something tells me you won't be able to rush through reading it. You'd better take your time.”

His palms oiled with sweat, he carefully opened the envelope.

At home, as he waited for Ruby to call and inform him that the young woman in the hospital had awakened, Franklin settled into his study and continued to research their findings at the cave.

This was, by far, the most intriguing historical research he'd ever done. He felt that he walked along the brink of a discovery that would shatter everything he thought he knew about Dark Corner. It was both exciting and a bit frightening, too. But he was compelled to continue.

The study was his favorite room in the house. Several maple bookcases lined the walls, containing over a thousand volumes on topics such as history, politics, philosophy, and culture. He had read most of the t.i.tles on the shelves, but in recent years, he had turned increasingly to the Internet for his reading material.

His huge maple desk was the centerpiece of the study. A late-model, laptop computer sat on the desktop. It was connected to a cable modem, ensuring a speedy Web connection.

A gla.s.s of iced tea close at hand, Franklin sat in a leather chair and tapped away on the laptop. He had uploaded the digital photographs he had taken at the cave into his computer; the pictures filled the display. He examined each of them, and stopped at the image of the engraving on the wall. He enlarged the photo.

I shall rise again to slay my enemies.

He possessed only a general knowledge of Diallo. He had found more information about the man on an African history Web site. A Morehouse College student had written his master's thesis on high-ranking persons in west Africa who found themselves victims of the American slave trade, and the havoc it wreaked on their psyches.

Diallo was born in Mali in seventeen sixty-seven. For twenty-eight years, he lived as a village prince and became a feared warrior. In seventeen ninety five, Diallo was defeated in a battle, and sold to European slave traders. He was s.h.i.+pped from Africa to Virginia, where he was purchased by a planter named John Foster.

Diallo was a troublesome slave. Standing seven feet tall and weighing three hundred pounds, he was p.r.o.ne to violent rages, and struck terror in his masters. After he had been enslaved for only three years, he killed an overseer for beating afe- male slave-an act that required he be put to death. Before his punishment could be dispensed, however, John Foster took the unusual step of agreeing to sell Diallo to an anonymous buyer.

Nothing is known of what became of Prince Diallo afterward...

Franklin could not find any resources that provided further information on what happened to Diallo after he was sold to the mysterious buyer. The man dropped off the history storyboard completely.

That is, until he turned up in the Hunter's family Bible, in which he was portrayed as a murderous giant.

Immured in a cave, buried in a grave he may have dug himself, his corpse retrieved over a century and a half later by a man who claimed to be Diallo's descendant, a man who called himself Kyle Coiraut.

Kyle Coiraut, who s.h.i.+elded his skin from the sun and displayed a supernatural ability to manipulate canines. Kyle Coiraut, who seemed to be responsible for the disappearances of two people in town.

What did any of it have to do with a dead African prince?

The key to unlocking the mystery was Kyle Coiraut. Why was he there? Who was he really?

Or perhaps the proper question was: what was he?

Franklin clicked on another Web browser window. He'd done a search on the phrase ”allergic to sunlight.” Two subjects appeared frequently in search results: xeroderma pig- mentosum, a rare genetic disorder that put one at extreme risk of developing skin cancer due to exposure to ultraviolet light. And vampires.

Vampires.

Franklin was an educated man. But the more he learned about the world, the more he understood that humanity's grasp of reality was tenuous. The world was full of mysteries that defied rational explanation. It was easy for one who lived in a technological society to dismiss many things as primitive superst.i.tion.

But vampires? Not Hollywood characters, fictional creatures, or deranged people who sucked blood and dressed in black. But real vampires?

It was madness.

But Franklin could not dismiss it. So many bizarre incidents were occurring that he could not afford to dismiss anything.

Set aside my doubts and imagine it could be true, Franklin thought. What if Kyle Coiraut is a vampire? He travels to Mason's Corner to retrieve Diallo's body from its earthen grave. Why?

What if Diallo is a vampire, too? What if he had been trapped in the cave, hibernating like a monstrous bear, until Kyle Coiraut found him?

The phone rang, and its shrill ring nearly tore a scream out of him.

It was his wife. ”Frank, the girl's starting to wake up. If you want to see her, hurry and get here before she falls asleep again.”

”I'll be there shortly, dear.”

Vampires in Dark Corner.

Franklin hoped his suspicions were wrong. Dear G.o.d, he prayed that he was wrong.

Chapter 12.