012  The unworthy descendant of the Quinn family (1)

"tinkle"

Ten rings were heard in Ryan's ear in front of his desk. Ryan raised his head and moved his sore neck.

I once asked Mr. vampire, do vampires feel sore? Ryan replied, "of course! When the blood flow is not smooth, it will! Like you humans, it will be sour and numb!"

Ryan picked up the glass at hand and drank it in one gulp. This is his way to solve the problem of poor blood flow - increase the flow.

A hunchbacked old man pushed open the door of the office and said in a voice like a cow, "Ryan! Someone is coming!"

The old man's name is hank. He is the coffin-maker of [Anderson's funeral home] and a close friend of the dead old man Anderson. So, in a way, he is also Ryan's father.

Ryan was a little surprised that someone would come here in the south district. He stood up and tidied up his clothes: "I see, Hank dad."

"They are not good people!" Old hank shouted so loudly that everyone in the meeting room could hear, "they don't like my coffin!"

Ryan smiled and patted Hank on the back. Hank is a man with a strange temper and is direct regardless of the scene, but Ryan likes him very much. Because of his existence, the funeral home in the South District lost a lot of business, which made the three non-humans here relatively free.

"Dad hank, how about you go to the second floor and help Louise tidy up her room?" Ryan helped the old man to the office, opened the back door, and watched the old man go up step by step.

"Hum!" Hank looked bored: "woman! Beautiful woman! What can an old man do for her?"

Ryan smiled, shut Hank's complaint behind the door, and turned to meet the long-awaited guests.

After the property was privately owned, Ryan must find a way to run this half-dead funeral home, and maybe let Hank wander around on the first floor less.

The two rows of sofas in the reception hall were already full of people, mostly old people, with grief on their faces. Behind the sofa stood a row of strong men in black suits, who should be bodyguards. The people's eyes pointed to an old woman parked next to the sofa, her body curled up in the wheelchair, and behind her was a young woman in nursing clothes holding the wheelchair.

Ryan watched for a while and knew he was going to invite real guests into the office. He nodded to the old woman in the wheelchair and made a gesture of invitation: "don't care what old Hank said. He regarded his works as children."

The old woman nodded without expression, and the nurse behind her pushed her wheelchair to the office. At the same time, a young man stood up from the sofa. His expression was a little gloomy. He walked on the side of the wheelchair.

The old people on the sofa exchanged their eyes, and the vampire saw a trace of disgust in their eyes.

Because there was no business for a long time and no food and drinks were prepared in the reception hall, Ryan leaned slightly towards the people on the sofa. "Later, someone will deliver food. Please wait a minute."

The old people nodded and didn't say much. Judging from their clothes, these are influential people in Porto. Ryan doesn't understand why they came to the remote South District.

Ryan closed the office door, pressed the bell to tell Alice to prepare food, and sat back at his desk.

"Hum! Now it's still morning. Have you started drinking?" The young man next to the wheelchair looked down at the wine glass on Ryan's desk, with a trace of red liquid in it: "grandma, I don't understand why we have to come here!"

Ryan won't explain that it's not wine, but his food. Ryan's eyes were on the old woman in the wheelchair. When his grandson spoke, the woman's fingers were clenched, and the wrinkled skin was stretched out by the bone joints. There was a moment of hatred on her face, but it was immediately covered by the wrinkles on her face.

"We can go to [Ford funeral home], which is closer and more convenient for us! Why do we come here early in the morning? There is a smell of decay and cow dung everywhere! It has ruined my interest in lunch..."

As the young man chattered without stop, the young nurse behind the wheelchair lowered her head and bit her lips. One of her hands was gently placed on the old woman's shoulder, like comfort. The old woman's fist had begun to tremble, the joints were white, and the dark blood vessels were all over the back of her hand. It's just that her fist was covered by a blanket and the young people can't see it.

"Sir!" Ryan suddenly opened his mouth and loudly blocked the young man's words. He pointed to a nameplate in front of his desk: "as you can see, I'm Ryan Anderson, the owner here. Can you introduce yourself before welcoming you?"

The young man was stunned and shut his mouth.

Yes, Ryan was reminding him that the owner of Anderson's house should talk to the owner of this line, that is, the real guests who come here, rather than the lack of courtesy companion.

The old woman raised her half-closed eyelids and looked at Ryan, still expressionless, but the nurse behind her showed a grateful smile.

"This is Mrs. Blair Quinn." The nurse pointed to the old woman in the wheelchair and then pointed to the young man next to him: "This is Mrs. Quinn's grandson, Poche Quinn."

Ryan's face showed surprise but immediately dimmed. His light green eyes looked at Mrs. Quinn: "I'm really sorry. Is it because of Mr. Quinn?"

Quinn and his wife are famous philanthropists in Porto. During the war ten years ago, they funded families broken by the war, established orphanages, and provided shelter for children who lost their parents. After the war, they continued their good deeds, supporting homeless veterans and orphans. Now three orphanages in Porto are named after their name.

At the time of the new year, the news of the sudden illness of the healthy Quinn couple came out, and the upper, middle, and lower classes of the whole Porto were praying for the kind couple. Now that Mr. Quinn was not here, Ryan made a guess that made everyone sad.

Mrs. Quinn's eyelids drooped again, the nurse behind her pursed her mouth and nodded, while Poche's smile flashed away.

Maybe no one can notice this little action, but Ryan is not human.

"Seven years ago, we booked the cemetery in the West cemetery of Anderson's house, but a few days ago, we received the news that the cemetery in the West was about to be recovered by the government, so..."

Ryan interrupted the nurse. There was a glimmer of hope in the vampire's eyes. He stood up excitedly: "So nothing happened to Mr. Quinn now, right?!"

Ryan's hope was not false. Greatness is not racial.

Ryan's behavior once again caused different reactions from the three people. The young nurse opened her mouth and looked down, and the light mist had filled her clear eyes. Mrs. Quinn's eyelids lifted again, and her muddy eyes stared at Ryan's light green eyes. And Poche, the disgust on Poche's face didn't want to hide!

Ryan shook his head and slowly returned to his seat.

The young nurse adjusted her mood and continued, "Mrs. Quinn followed her husband's last wish and hoped for a traditional funeral. But now there is only the Anderson funeral home in the South District, so we are here. According to Mr. Quinn's wish, we still hope to have a joint burial cemetery for the two old."

Ryan sighed, nodded, opened the information about the Western cemetery area, and began to look for Mrs. Quinn's previous reservation. A moment later, Ryan found the reserved deposit certificate, marble tombstone, Gabriel statue, and Oak coffin.

Old hank is very particular about the production of coffins. Even in the former West side, his works were also used, so Ryan didn't have to worry about coffins. But the tombstone and the statue, Ryan was a little confused.

There are two main customers in the south area of Anderson house: hospital and prison. Therefore, criminals and unclaimed anonymous people are mostly buried here, and there are few requirements for coffins and tombstones, so Ryan is not prepared here.

As for the funerals of nearby citizens, they usually use rocks, which are carved into a shape by Benjamin. In recent years, cremation has appeared, and more people go to [Allen funeral home] in the Southern District for cremation. After all, the cost of cremation and urn is much cheaper than that of handmade coffin.

Ryan took the order and frowned. He handed the order to the female nurse, "we have the cemetery, coffin, old Hank's craftsmanship. I'm sure it won't disappoint Mrs. Quinn, but the statue..."

"We can wait." A dry hoarse voice came from Mrs. Quinn's throat. It was the first time she opened her mouth. "I promised him I would give him a traditional funeral. We can wait!"

"Grandma!" Poche turned excitedly to the woman in the wheelchair: "it's going to cost a lot of money to save the body! How long do we have to wait?"

Ryan frowned and looked at the old lady whose body trembled for a moment: "may I ask, when did Mr. Quinn die?"

"This morning, eight twenty." With the consent of Mrs. Quinn, the female nurse answered Ryan's questions.

The vampire nodded, his eyes swam with the blood vessels under Mrs. Quinn's skin, and took a deep breath. He was feeling a faint and strange smell. Why did he do that? Because vampires are very sensitive to vitality, he can feel that Mrs. Quinn's life was passing away.

As you know, I'm always curious about the behavior of vampires, so I once carefully asked Ryan, "Dear vampire, why can you feel a person's vitality? Do you have the ability to predict death like Alice?"

The vampire replied, "I can't be so unlucky. All I have is a keen sense of smell for blood. Do you know the right way to kill vampires?"

I opened my notes and began to retell: "beheading, burning, wooden stakes and silver tools penetrating the heart, werewolf's bite..."

The vampire grabbed my notebook and looked at it with great interest: "you recorded such a thing!"

I try to make my smile look cute and harmless.

The vampire didn't care that I recorded his weakness. He took up his pen and added one to my notes.

I leaned over to see, 'blood of the dead'.

Oh, just as people will be poisoned by eating bad things, bad blood is the poison of vampires.

Now, vampires smell a trace of poison, from Mrs. Quinn.