Miller hissed in an alarmed whisper when the weight of the vampire shoved against him. His heart pounded in his chest faster than a Daytona 500 race car when the immortal sensed something there in the dark that he had managed to miss. He lacked the advantage of Daniel’s maneuverability in the darkness. The spooked psychic swung the beam of his flashlight around as he tried to seek out whatever it was that had made the immortal react.
The pale beam zeroed in on the dusty mannequin propped up in the corner of the room. Among the other random, macabre items in the collection this old mansion housed, Miller could understand why someone might see it as a threat at first glance. He sighed, hand curling up to deliver a light, flat palmed pat to Daniel’s smooth cheek. “Remind me never to go to a spook house with you during Halloween. You’ll probably tear my arm off.”
Of course, being in a genuinely haunted house with Daniel -- accompanying him on yet another independent investigation -- the psychic detective wouldn’t dismiss anything out of hand. “What did you think you saw?”