Present
Sheridan
The vampires’ club is tucked in El Mercado district, near the trolley stop, at the edge of their territory. A nondescript stucco building with nice landscaping and a pretty stone walkway. I’m there right at dusk, and sit in my car with the top up, watching the sun melt below the horizon in a storm of color.
The only thing to fear is fear itself. I tap my dashboard with my finger, readying myself to walk into the vampires’ stronghold. The fact that Lucius the leech king gave the invitation doesn’t reassure me at all. Vampires love their invitations—and they don’t need permission to get inside a victim’s head. Lucius wouldn’t have extended one if he wasn’t sure he held the upper hand. He’s up to something. Maybe it has to do with the mysterious black car I keep glimpsing
