Chapter 41: Coffin Maker

With that, he turned around and headed back into the house like we had just finished taking out regular trash.

I grabbed the metal can to carry it—but the heat shot straight through my palms.

“Ah—shit!”

I quickly dropped it.

The metal was still burning hot from the fire.

Muttering under my breath, I carried it into the garage instead and looked around until I found a filthy rag on the floor. Wrapping it around my hands, I lifted the can again and carried it out toward the front yard.

At the curb, there was a regular plastic trash bin.

I tipped the can over.

The grey ashes poured out like sand, disappearing into the bin.

Pierre.

Reduced to nothing more than dust in a matter of hours.

I shook the last bits out, set the metal can aside, and dusted off my hands.

Then I headed back inside the house.

The moment I stepped into the living room, I stopped.

Everything had been cleaned.

The plastic cups were gone.

The bottles were gone.

The stains, the mess, the evidence of last night’s chaos—all of it had vanished.

The place looked almost normal again.

Juliet walked over to me, studying my face.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

I rubbed my forehead.

“A little hungover,” I admitted. “And very sleepy.”

I glanced around the room.

“So… what’s our sleeping situation going to be?”

Juliet smiled slightly.

“We’re going coffin shopping.”

I blinked.

“…What?”

At that moment Ayara walked into the living room and dropped onto the couch.

“Which is very weird, by the way,” she added, stretching her arms lazily.

I nodded immediately.

“Exactly.”

Juliet sighed and crossed her arms.

“We don’t have a choice. It’s either we buy coffins… or we stop sleeping completely.”

None of us liked the idea.

But we all knew she was right.

I sighed.

“Alright.”

I turned toward the hallway.

“Give me a minute.”

Inside the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to shake off the headache from the drugs and alcohol. After that I grabbed a clean shirt from my bag and pulled it on.

When I was done, I took a deep breath and walked back out, ready to see how exactly four vampires were supposed to go shopping for coffins in the middle of Paris.

Timi was already waiting in the sitting room when I came back out.

“Ready?” he asked.

We all nodded.

A few minutes later we stepped outside and gathered on the same street corner where we had stood the night before. The morning air was crisp, the city already alive with the distant hum of traffic and pedestrians starting their day.

Timi raised his hand and flagged down a taxi.

The car pulled over and we all climbed in, squeezing together in the back while Timi took the front seat. The driver greeted him in French, and the two of them immediately began talking back and forth in quick, fluid sentences.

I understood absolutely none of it.

The taxi weaved through the streets of Paris for about twenty minutes before finally stopping in front of a narrow storefront squeezed between two older buildings.

Above the door was a faded wooden sign.

A coffin maker’s shop.

“Well,” Ayara muttered. “This just got weird.”

We stepped out and entered the shop.

The moment the door opened, a heavy smell of polished wood and varnish filled the air. The interior was dimly lit, sunlight filtering through dusty windows and falling across rows upon rows of coffins.

They were everywhere.

Against the walls.

Stacked neatly in rows.

Some were simple and plain, while others were carved with intricate designs—crosses, vines, angels, and patterns etched deep into the dark wood.

Behind a small wooden counter stood an elderly man. His back was slightly hunched, and thick round glasses sat low on his nose. His thin grey hair was combed carefully to the side, and he wore a black vest over a white shirt.

He looked up as we walked in.

At first he seemed confused.

Then he looked even more confused when we started opening coffins.

Juliet lifted the lid of one and climbed halfway inside.

Timi tested another, laying down inside it like he was trying a mattress.

Ayara measured one with her arms crossed.

I opened a darker wooden one near the wall and slowly lay down inside it, testing the space. It was surprisingly comfortable—quiet, enclosed, and dark.

The old man stared at us like he had just stepped into a nightmare.

His eyebrows were practically touching his hairline.

He said something quickly in French, clearly alarmed.

Timi walked over to him and spoke calmly in the same language.

The conversation lasted only about thirty seconds.

But something in Timi’s explanation completely changed the old man’s expression.

The shock on his face melted into something else.

Pity.

Then sadness.

His eyes watered slightly, and his lips trembled.

He looked at all of us again—really looked this time—like he was seeing a group of doomed young people.

Then he nodded slowly and wiped his eyes.

He murmured something soft, turned away, and quietly excused himself as he disappeared into the back office.

Ayara looked at Timi.

“What did you tell him?”

Timi shrugged casually.

“I told him we’re all family… and that we all have cancer.”

We stared at him.

He continued like it was nothing.

“I said it’s genetic. That we decided to come pick out our coffins ourselves before things get worse.”

Juliet blinked.

“That’s… dark.”

Timi smirked.

“He believed it.”

Ayara shook her head.

“No wonder he almost cried.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the door behind us opened again.

A man walked into the shop.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his shoes polished to a mirror shine. His hair was slicked back neatly, and his posture was straight and controlled.

But something about him felt…

Wrong.

Not in a human way.

In a deeper way.

The moment he stepped inside, the entire room felt heavier.

Older.

Colder.

All of us looked at him almost instinctively.

There was something ancient about the man’s presence—like he carried centuries on his shoulders.

But he didn’t look at us.

Not even once.

He simply walked past, slowly examining the coffins lined along the walls as if we didn’t exist.

His movements were calm.

Deliberate.

Silent.

I glanced at Timi, but he didn’t say anything.

After a moment, Timi clapped his hands lightly.

“Alright,” he said. “Is everyone done picking?”

We all nodded.

“I’m good,” Juliet said.

“Same,” Ayara added.

I nodded too.

Timi turned and walked toward the hallway that led to the old man’s office.

“Alright,” he said. “Let me go get him.”I was still standing beside the brown coffin I had chosen, running my hand along the smooth lid and admiring the polished wood. The grain of it caught the light in a way I liked. It felt… right.

Then I felt someone beside me.

I turned slightly.

It was the mysterious man in the black suit.

Up close, he looked even stranger. His skin was unnaturally pale—almost white—and perfectly smooth, like marble. His eyes studied the coffin quietly before he spoke.

“Cedar wood,” he said calmly. “It smells nice, but it is not very durable.”

His voice was smooth, controlled… almost too controlled.

He tapped lightly on the coffin lid with one finger.

“When exposed to sunlight for long periods,” he continued, “cedar dries out. It cracks. The color fades.”

Then he lifted his hand and pointed toward another coffin across the shop.

“That one,” he said. “Teak wood.”

I followed his finger.

The coffin he was pointing at was darker, heavier looking.

“It resists sunlight much better,” he added. “And it appears to be your size.”

Then he looked directly at me.

Our eyes met.

Up close I could see just how pale he really was. His lips curved into a strange, knowing smile that made something cold slide down my spine.

He slowly extended his hand.

“Pleasure meeting you.”

I hesitated for half a second before shaking it.

His grip was firm… but cold.

And that’s when I noticed it.

His nails.

They were slightly longer than normal. Not ridiculously long—but sharp at the tips, almost claw-like.

Before I could say anything, I heard footsteps behind us.

Timi returned with the shop owner.

The mysterious man released my hand and turned toward them as if nothing had happened.

He said something to the old man in French.

The shop owner replied in French as well, nodding respectfully. Then he pointed toward his office.

The man in the black suit gave a small nod and walked toward the office without another word.

Timi watched him go for a second before turning back to us.

The purchase itself didn’t take long. Timi spoke with the old man, paid for all the coffins, and gave him the address of the house.

The old man assured us that they would be delivered later that day.

Soon we were all stepping back outside into the sunlight.

The street felt normal again.

Too normal.

As we started walking away from the shop, I turned to the others.

“Did any of you notice that guy who walked in?”

They all looked at me.

“The one in the black suit,” I continued. “He looked… strange.”

Juliet nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” she said. “I felt that too.”

Ayara crossed her arms.

“There was definitely something off about him.”

I looked at Timi.

“He came up to me while you were gone,” I said. “He told me the coffin I picked was bad. Said it would crack and fade in sunlight.”

Juliet frowned.

“That’s oddly specific.”

“He even recommended another one for me,” I added. “Teak wood.”

Timi tilted his head slightly, thinking.

“Do you think he’s a—”

“Yeah,” I interrupted immediately.

I looked back toward the shop door.

Then I said quietly,

“He’s a vampire.”