The Hunter and the Vampire
Grace shook his hand, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she did so.
“I was right, though.” She elbowed me. “He does make a good Danny.”
“Oh,” I agreed, “the best.”
A wicked grin curved her lips. “Don’t let Dal hear you saying that. Apparently he’s on the pull tonight.” She snorted, and my eyes wandered to one of the few occupied booths. And, sure enough, Dal was wearing a crinkled T-Birds jacket, his hair slick with pomade, his arm around an older woman with a perm that might well have been the style her hair was usually in.
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