The Vampire's Reflection by Shayne Leighton Page A

No!”
    “Charlotte!” A familiar voice called to her. “Charlotte, open your eyes!”
    A warm hand gripped her shoulder. She whirled around in Valek’s bedroom to see a large, shadowy figure looming over her, one distinct, pointed ear poking out from the waves of auburn hair. The mere vision of him sent waves of fear whizzing through her. A scream bubbled up from her gut.
    Suddenly, her body began rocking gently, like she’d somehow drifted. She continued to scream, never wanting to return back to that basement. Tears continued to ensue.
    “Charlotte, wake up!”
    “No,” she sobbed.
    “I b-believe this is the th-third night in a row,” another familiar voice stammered next to her.
    “Charlotte, darlin’. Wake up. You’re safe!”
    Finally, her eyelids fluttered open to the utter stillness of the ruddy color of a dirt-packed ceiling, cluttered with several brass pans, a few cuckoo clocks, and about a dozen or so silver teapots. Her senses filled with the heady scent of wood smoldering in Mr. Třínožka’s massive hearth. With teary eyes, she remembered the burning smell in her nightmare. She was wrapped tightly in a quilted blanket, as one of Mr. Třínožka’s eight large arms cuddled her affectionately. It was so tight, she could barely move her own arms—like a fly caught in a web. She finally realized where she was.
    “Charlotte! Why, you had a nightmare, girly.” His normally gruff voice was lifted a few octaves higher than usual, probably from his concern.
    Had she been screaming out loud ? How embarrassing. “I…fell asleep?”
    “You did. Edwin and I came in from the day and found you were curled up in one of my bean chairs.” His mustache bristled with the promise of a smile just underneath, the corners twirled upward by fresh wasp wax. His antique brass aviator goggles were lifted onto his forehead, his ruby scarf wound tightly around his broad neck. He and Edwin must have just arrived home from work at the Broucka General Store. They’d been cleaning up the shop after a looting that had occurred during their battle at the Regime Palace. It had taken them days to do so.
    Another set of familiar eyes, shiny and made of buttons, caught her attention as they loomed over her. Edwin, the enchanted, boy of burlap and yarn, stared back at her curiously, his stitched mouth mashed into a worried line. Charlotte was never very certain what kind of creature he was. Something like an animated scarecrow or a rag doll of sorts and the only one of his kind, as far as anyone knew. Mr. Třínožka had invited Edwin to live with him in the burrow after their return from the Regime, and sadly, upon finding Horris, Mr. Třínožka’s old roommate, gone.
    Mr. Třínožka rested Charlotte into one of the enormous bean bag chairs set in front of the blazing fire. His burrow was cozy and intimate, crowded by his collection of so many mortal objects. Ragged teddy bears, lamps, pipes, plates. It was all there. The fire set a warm glow around the red color of the dirt walls. It danced in the reflection his massive goggles and in the spectacles sitting on the bridge of Edwin’s burlap nose.
    Charlotte reached over and pulled one particularly pathetic looking teddy bear into her lap. Bringing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around the thing. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, causing the light in the room to blur. “It was awful. I was in the square. There were so many faces. I searched, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.”
    “Hush!” Mr. Třínožka abruptly pressed a finger from one of his long, front arms directly to her lips. He was sweater-clad. Something Sarah had knit him for the winter months. He glanced around. “We mustn’t speak of nightmares here, girly. Evil feeds on ’em, don’t ya know it. It’s bad luck. You’ll bring about misfortune. If ya speak of the nightmare, it may come true!” The giant Phaser, with the face of a kindly, elderly man and the lower half of an arachnid pulled