LITMIR.BIZ

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      “A few miles. I shall guide you to his home, sir.”

      “He is okay with that, you said? The doctor?”

      “Any time of the day or night. Our friendship goes back many years and he is more than willing to repay. Seven fold, as they say.”

      The four approached Grandpa’s car. Taking the risk, he placed all the vampire protection products in the trunk and they crawled in, Isaac Fromme riding on the front passenger side.

      “I can direct you to his home, Mr. Maguire.”

      “Just call me--uh--just call me Marty, okay?”

      “If that is your wish...Marty,” Fromme replied as he reclined back in the bucket seat, closing his eyes for a moment.

      Oh man! I am to be directed to the home of an evil doctor by a guy who is probably a vampire? What am I doing? Grandpa thought as he traveled down that lonely stretch of road, to who knows where?

      CHAPTER 6

      DOCTOR ROTHSCHILD, WE PRESUME

      “You sure this is the right direction? There are no houses out here,” said Grandpa as he drove on, guided occasionally by Mr. Fromme.

      “You are spot on, Martin...or Marty,” Fromme answered, drifting in and out from consciousness as they continued.

      Grandpa looked over and realized his situation. “Girls. Keep him talking. I think we are losing him.”

      “Your doctor lives out in a spooky place. The Pine Barrens,” Rachael said to open some dialogue.

      “My friend desires privacy. His surroundings define his way of life, as you will see very soon.”

      “Are we close?” Rachael asked.

      Fromme nodded. “Another quarter mile on the right side. I will show you the lane.”

      Up ahead they saw an eerie sign bearing the Rothschild name. “Turn here, please.”

      Grandpa made the right turn and followed another desolate tree-lined stretch of road--through a grand stone entrance--to a Victorian mansion ahead. He made a circle in the cobblestone courtyard and brought his car to a stop. “This it, Isaac?” he asked.

      “The home of Doctor Edwin Rothschild. My physician. My dear friend.”

      “Wow. This doctor business must be quite good,” Grandpa said to himself. He swore later the sky clouded as they entered the ominous grounds leading to the bleak home. It was absolutely huge, this spectacular country manor something out of a nineteen thirties horror film.

      They got out of Grandpa’s car and approached the entrance.

      “Well, there you are, Isaac. Safely delivered. So we will see you--”

      “Grandpa, how could we let him here at the doorstep?” asked Rachael. “What if there is nobody home?”

      “Oh. No, that would be thoughtless. Alexa. Ring the bell so we can get going.”

      Alexa did as she was told and they all waited a moment. The massive door opened and a ghoulish gentleman in formal wear looked out. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

      “Is...is Doctor Rothschild in?” Alexa stammered, a voice of uncertainty.

      “The good doctor is indisposed at the moment. Perhaps I could--” The spooky character spied Fromme working his way up the stairs to the porch. “My apologies, I did not realize. Mr. Fromme. Please come in.”

      Isaac grasped Grandpa’s arm for support to get him inside the house, his strength nearly depleted. They made it to the vestibule before Fromme sank to his knees.

      “I assume this is not of your doing.”

      “Oh, no,” said Grandpa. “You see, me and the girls just performed this rescue mission for--”

      “My name is Michael and I am Doctor Rothschild’s manservant and personal assistant.” He recognized Fromme’s dilemma instantly. “Help Isaac to our parlor. The room to your left. I must summon the doctor immediately.”

      The hulking man called Michael disappeared as the three of them guided Mr. Fromme to this designated room, a large sitting area complete with plush chairs and sofas. The kind of furniture you could sink into forever as you conversed. The huge working fireplace made the room so cozy, with the aroma of burning oak wood drifting through the entire first floor of the mansion. The girls maneuvered Fromme to one of the divans.

      Michael appeared again, with another distinguished character following close behind him. Unlike his manservant, this gentleman was not terribly tall, perhaps five feet two or three. He was elderly--perhaps mid-sixties or more--with long white hair coifed back off his forehead. He had an old-worldly eloquence about him. The man also dressed in formal wear, as if to be off attending a nineteen thirties formal dinner party later. His aged wardrobe uncomfortably reminded Rachael of their former “friend” Dunbro Lasnikov.

      The gentleman also wore spectacles slightly tinted.

      He saw Mr. Fromme immediately. “Isaac! They told us you left the area and went to Florida days ago.”

      Fromme shook his head weakly. “The opposition simply erred on my whereabouts for the moment.”

      He looked to the others in this party of guests: Grandpa, Alexa, and Rachael. “I am Doctor Edwin Rothschild, Isaac’s physician.”

      “Trusted friend and confidante as well,” Mr. Fromme said with a weak smile and nod.

      “Yes, and all that too, Isaac.” He looked carefully at his patient. “Obviously you are not well. Lack of nourishment for one thing, I deduce.”

      Fromme looked back to agree. “My captors were a stingy lot. They provided only enough elixir for mere survival until help arrived--or perhaps something worse.” He looked to the Casadays. “Edwin, these kind folks are my friends. They saved my life--my existence. Please treat them kindly. Keep them safe in your humble abode.”

      Rachael noticed a “knowing” look between the two. Eerie communication without dialogue.

      “Of course, Isaac--as you wish.” Doctor Rothschild looked to his other guests. “Michael, perhaps we could offer a libation for our guests. A cup of tea perhaps?”

      “No, thanks,” Grandpa said quickly. Nothing red! He mentally exclaimed. “Right girls?”

      “We are so fine,” Rachael agreed.

      “Michael prepares a delectable watercress sandwich, if you care to indulge. I love the way he cuts all that dark crust off, to keep the bread so moist to the palette.”

      “Thanks, but no. We just ate,” said Alexa, lying. What is watercress anyway?

      His look was one of genuine disappointment. “You youngsters would no doubt prefer something appropriate for modern day tastes. Michael, do we possess the ingredients for a pepperoni pizza? Perhaps a succulent burger with--”

      “Please...nothing for the moment,” Rachael said as her eyes roamed around the room, silently investigating. She examined the room, especially the wall coverings. Rachael wanted to continue beyond the area provided to them--to search the entire home--but there was no opportunity.

      “Look, if it is all the same to you, perhaps we better go, Doctor Rothschild.” Grandpa inched his way toward the entryway. “How about we leave you to take care of Mr. Fromme? We are only in the way.”

      “Of course.” The doctor stepped over to assess Isaac’s vital signs. “Michael, assist Isaac to the examination room. I shall see our friends to the door.”

      The servant obeyed. Mr. Fromme looked back and smiled. “Thank you again, friends.”

      “You are very welcome,” Rachael said.

      Rothschild escorted Grandpa

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