—although her much taller brothers had simply called her Shrimp. She wasn't skinny, but she was fit and toned, so who cared about a number on the scale?
Rounding the newel post at the bottom, she scuffed her way in stockinged feet to the kitchen and pulled open her freezer door. A dazzling array of Tupperware containers greeted her, all carefully labeled, courtesy of her landlady Mrs. Maglietto. Mrs. M. had sort of adopted Sarah, when she'd discovered there was no family nearby. An inveterate gossip, she always seemed to know when Sarah was coming and going, and frequently met her on the porch with whatever casserole she or one of her many daughters had prepared that day. Sarah didn't mind. She'd been close to her family before everything fell apart. Sometimes she missed that sense of belonging, of knowing someone cared about her, that they'd miss her if she died . . . or if she was taken by one of the human monsters who haunted her dreams.
Sarah shivered, and realized she was still standing in front of her open freezer lost in thought. First her computer and now the freezer. Next she'd be drifting off while driving her car. She had to figure out a way to deal with the dreams before she suffered something more drastic than freezer burn. She slammed the freezer door and took a yogurt from the refrigerator instead, staring out the window as she spooned it into her mouth, barely aware she was eating. There had to be some way she could find out what the police knew. She could call Linda's cousin, of course, but what would she say? Even if he remembered her, she couldn't imagine he'd be eager to spill all the secrets of his investigation. After all, who was she? An Assistant Professor of History at the university, hardly an expert on . . .
Her spoon clattered into the sink. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? Hadn't she just spent the weekend with two of the most powerful vampires in the country? And wasn't her best friend practically married to one of them? She'd call Linda's cousin. She didn't know his last name, but that'd be easy enough to find out. She'd call him and offer her services as a vampire expert. Well, maybe not an expert, but a resource. There was probably nothing to the rumors anyway, but that wasn't the point. It would give her a chance to find out what the police knew without giving herself away. And anyway, who else could the police turn to if they had questions about vampires? The real vampires were all in Manhattan. She'd seen them in Raj's club. What self-respecting vampire would live in Buffalo when he had Manhattan to play in?
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Chapter Ten
The sun went down and the vampires rose. Raj opened his eyes to the instant knowledge of where he was and how he'd gotten there. And hunger. He'd left the city in such a hurry last night that there'd been no time to eat a full meal. Normally, he kept a supply of bagged blood in the bar refrigerator here for emergencies, but his last visit to Buffalo had been weeks ago and the refrigerator was empty of everything but ice. Which meant, Krystof be damned, Raj's first order of business was finding a willing donor. Demented or not, Krystof was a powerful vampire, and Raj had no intention of meeting him at anything but his best.
Besides, finding a woman shouldn't be difficult in this part of town, even on a Wednesday night. It was one of the reasons he'd built his lair here.
He stood and headed for the bathroom, groaning at the stiffness in his neck. He'd fallen facedown into bed this morning, which always left him feeling a little mean when he woke up. He twisted his neck with a loud crack of vertebrae and stared at his reflection in the mirror as he began to shave. He'd had a mustache, when he was human, and hair down to his shoulders. Now his face was bare and his thick, blond hair barely touched his collar. He turned on the shower and let steam fill the bathroom before stepping under the steady spray—one of the greatest
Rounding the newel post at the bottom, she scuffed her way in stockinged feet to the kitchen and pulled open her freezer door. A dazzling array of Tupperware containers greeted her, all carefully labeled, courtesy of her landlady Mrs. Maglietto. Mrs. M. had sort of adopted Sarah, when she'd discovered there was no family nearby. An inveterate gossip, she always seemed to know when Sarah was coming and going, and frequently met her on the porch with whatever casserole she or one of her many daughters had prepared that day. Sarah didn't mind. She'd been close to her family before everything fell apart. Sometimes she missed that sense of belonging, of knowing someone cared about her, that they'd miss her if she died . . . or if she was taken by one of the human monsters who haunted her dreams.
Sarah shivered, and realized she was still standing in front of her open freezer lost in thought. First her computer and now the freezer. Next she'd be drifting off while driving her car. She had to figure out a way to deal with the dreams before she suffered something more drastic than freezer burn. She slammed the freezer door and took a yogurt from the refrigerator instead, staring out the window as she spooned it into her mouth, barely aware she was eating. There had to be some way she could find out what the police knew. She could call Linda's cousin, of course, but what would she say? Even if he remembered her, she couldn't imagine he'd be eager to spill all the secrets of his investigation. After all, who was she? An Assistant Professor of History at the university, hardly an expert on . . .
Her spoon clattered into the sink. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? Hadn't she just spent the weekend with two of the most powerful vampires in the country? And wasn't her best friend practically married to one of them? She'd call Linda's cousin. She didn't know his last name, but that'd be easy enough to find out. She'd call him and offer her services as a vampire expert. Well, maybe not an expert, but a resource. There was probably nothing to the rumors anyway, but that wasn't the point. It would give her a chance to find out what the police knew without giving herself away. And anyway, who else could the police turn to if they had questions about vampires? The real vampires were all in Manhattan. She'd seen them in Raj's club. What self-respecting vampire would live in Buffalo when he had Manhattan to play in?
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Ten
The sun went down and the vampires rose. Raj opened his eyes to the instant knowledge of where he was and how he'd gotten there. And hunger. He'd left the city in such a hurry last night that there'd been no time to eat a full meal. Normally, he kept a supply of bagged blood in the bar refrigerator here for emergencies, but his last visit to Buffalo had been weeks ago and the refrigerator was empty of everything but ice. Which meant, Krystof be damned, Raj's first order of business was finding a willing donor. Demented or not, Krystof was a powerful vampire, and Raj had no intention of meeting him at anything but his best.
Besides, finding a woman shouldn't be difficult in this part of town, even on a Wednesday night. It was one of the reasons he'd built his lair here.
He stood and headed for the bathroom, groaning at the stiffness in his neck. He'd fallen facedown into bed this morning, which always left him feeling a little mean when he woke up. He twisted his neck with a loud crack of vertebrae and stared at his reflection in the mirror as he began to shave. He'd had a mustache, when he was human, and hair down to his shoulders. Now his face was bare and his thick, blond hair barely touched his collar. He turned on the shower and let steam fill the bathroom before stepping under the steady spray—one of the greatest
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