I turned in solemnness, my hands peacefully folded
in front of me. “I was looking at the flowers in the
pedestal.”
Mr. Holstadtler’s brow furrowed slightly as he
gazed at me strangely. “You wanted a word, sir?”
“Indeed.” I walked over to my bag and took out a
small hand-written note on yellow paper. “These are
instructions for the burial of your daughter.” Sara’s father
took the paper from me slowly but continued to gaze at
me as if in disbelief. “Is there a problem, Mr. Holstadtler?”
“Why do we need instructions? Funerals—”
“It’s not about the funeral. They’re literal
instructions on how the body must be laid to rest.
Catholic, Christian, Jewish, Islamic matters not. As long as
you follow these directions – to the letter – all will be
saved.”
“And if we don’t?”
“The Master vampire could find your daughter,
resurrect her, and plague your family.”
Mr. Holstadtler’s eyes bulged as the bile in his
stomach churned. He slapped a hand across his mouth,
turned, and then grabbed his stomach with the other hand.
I turned my gaze away out of curtesy and wiped the corner
of my mouth. For a moment, I just stood there, staring in
the dark at nothing, but soon came back to Mr.
Holstadtler’s direction. He was now taking deep breaths as
he patted his moistened forehead with his handkerchief. I
kept watching him without saying a word.
He finally composed himself and we found
ourselves eye-to-eye once more.
88