“Of course not,” I said. “You brought me here. That’s all that matters. This is awesome.” Jonah and I were directed by another usher into a small door, which opened up right into the concert hall. We were up high, maybe 50 feet, and in our small box area there were only 10 or 15 seats. Our seats were right on the edge of the balcony, flush against the railing.Jonah opened the thick, plush chair for me, and I looked down at the massive crowd and at all of the performers. It was the classiest place I had ever been. I looked out at the sea of gray hair, and I felt 50 years too young to be here. But thrilled all the same.Jonah sat, and our elbows touched, and I felt a thrill at the warmth of his body beside me. As we settled in and sat there, waiting, I wanted to reach over and take his hand, and hold it in mine. But I didn’t want to risk being too bold. So I sat there, hoping that he would reach over and take mine. He didn’t make any move. It was early. And maybe he was shy.Instea
As I sat there, getting lost in the music, wondering how long I could make my date with Jonah last, it happened again. The pain.It hit me in the gut, like it had on the street, and it took all of my willpower to keep myself from keeling over in front of Jonah. I gritted my teeth silently, and struggled to breathe. I could feel the sweat break out on my forehead.Another pang.This time I squealed out in pain, just a little bit, enough to barely be heard above the music, which was reaching a crescendo. Jonah must have heard, because he turned and looked at me, concerned. He gently placed a hand on my shoulder.“Are you OK?” he asked.I was not. Pain was overwhelming me. And something else: hunger. I felt absolutely ravenous. I had never been so overwhelmed by such a sensation in my life.I glanced over at Jonah, and my eyes went straight for his neck. I fixated on the pulsing of his vein, tracked it as it went from his ear down towards his throat. I watched the throbbing. I cou
{DETECTIVE GRANT’S POV}“Detective Grant! There are reports that Sergei was killed by a wild animal. Is that true?”New York Homicide detective Grace O’Reilly opened the doors to Carnegie Hall and knew right away that it was going to be bad. Reporters were 10 deep, and unusually aggressive.“Detective!”They screamed for her repeatedly as she entered, the room filling with flashes.At 40, muscular and hardened, with short black hair and matching eyes, Grace was tough, and used to pushing her way through. But this time, it was not easy. The reporters knew it was a huge story, and they weren’t going to give. This was going to make life much harder.A young, international star murdered at the height of his fame and power. Right in the middle of Carnegie Hall and right in the middle of his American debut.And now this. Murdered. In the middle of his goddamn performance. Right in the hall where he sang just minutes before. Several reporters shoved microphones into her face.“W
{DETECTIVE GRANT’S POV}Detective Grant was shocked not because the crime scene was particularly bloody. Not because some horrific violence had taken place. It was something else. Something surreal.It was too quiet. Everything was in perfect place. Except, of course, for the body. He sat slumped backwards in his chair, his neck exposed. And there, under the light, were two perfect holes, right in his jugular vein.No blood. No signs of struggle. No torn clothing. Nothing else out of place. It was as if a bat had descended, sucked his blood perfectly clean, then flew away, without touching anything else. It was eerie. And outright terrifying. If his skin hadn’t turned completely white, she would have thought he was still alive, just taking a nap. She even felt tempted to go over and feel his pulse. But she knew that would be stupid.Sergei Rakov. He was young. And from what she’d heard, he’d been an arrogant prick. Could he already have had enemies?What in hell could have done
{KYLE’S POV}Kyle walked down the red carpeted hallways, strutting through the thick crowd. He was annoyed, as usual. He hated crowds, and he hated Carnegie Hall. He had been to a concert here once, in the 1890s, and it had not gone well. He did not release a grudge easily.As he marched down the hall, the high collars of his black tunic covering his neck and framing his face, people made way for him. Officers, security guards, press agents – the entire crowd parted ways.Humans are too easy to control, he thought. The slightest bit of mindbending, and they scurry out of the way like sheep.A vampire of the Blacktide Coven, Kyle had seen it all in his 3,000 plus years. He had been there when they killed Christ. He had witnessed the French Revolution. He had watched smallpox spread across Europe—and had even helped it spread. There was nothing left that could surprise them.But this night surprised him. And he did not like to be surprised.Normally, he would just let his usual
I woke to burning pain. My skin felt on fire, and when I tried to open my eyes, a stabbing pain forced them shut. It exploded into my skull.I kept my eyes closed, and instead used my hands to feel around. I was lying on top of something. It felt soft, yet firm. Uneven. It couldn’t be a mattress. I ran her fingers along it. It felt like plastic.I opened my eyes, more slowly this time, and peeked down at my hands. Plastic. Black plastic. And that smell. What was it? I turned my head just a little, opened my eyes a little more, and then I realized. I was sprawled out, on my back, on a pile of garbage bags. I craned my neck. I was inside a dumpster.I sat up with a start. The pain exploded, my neck and head splitting with pain. The stench was unbearable. I looked around, eyes open now, and was horrified. How the hell had I wound up here?I rubbed my forehead, trying to piece together the events that got me here. I drew a blank. I tried to remember last night. I used all my force of w
I stood outside my building and looked up apprehensively. It was sunset now, and the light didn’t bother me as much. In fact, as night approached, I felt stronger with each passing hour.I bounded up the five-story walkup with lightning speed, surprising myself. I took the steps three at a time, and my legs weren’t even tired. I couldn’t fathom what was happening to my body. Whatever it was, I loved it.My good mood dimmed as I approached the apartment door. My heart began to pound, as I wondered if my mom would be home. How would she react?But as I reached for the doorknob, I was surprised to see that the door was already open, slightly ajar. My foreboding increased. Why would it be open?I walked tentatively into the apartment, the wood creaking beneath my feet. I slowly stepped through the foyer and into the living room.As I entered I turned my head—and suddenly raised my hands to my mouth in shock. A horrible wave of nausea hit me. I turned and vomited.It was my mom. Lying
The three wheeled and stared at the cops.They then, slowly, walked towards them, completely unafraid.“I said FREEZE!”The leader kept walking, and the cop fired. The noise was deafening.But, amazingly, the leader didn’t even stop. He smiled even wider, simply reached out his hand, and caught the bullet in midair. I was shocked to see that he stopped it in mid-air, in his palm. He then held up his hand, slowly made a fist and crushed it. He opened his hand, and the dust slowly poured out onto the floor.The cops, too, stared back in shock, mouths open.The leader grinned even wider, reached out and grabbed the cop’s shotgun. He yanked it from him, wound up and struck the cop across the face. The cop went flying backwards, knocking over several of his men.I had seen enough.Without hesitating, I turned, opened the window and climbed through. I jumped onto the fire escape and raced down the rickety, rusted steps.I ran for all I was worth, twisting and turning. The old fire e