I wrapped my arms around the old ex-con the moment he was past airport security. Age left his brown face wrinkled like boot leather, but his body was surprisingly solid for a man in his fifties after a habit of working out ingrained as only prison could. "Charles, it is wonderful to see you," I said, feeling a strange prickle of tears in my eyes as I heard his familiar heartbeat and its tiny murmur. It had been two years since we were last face to face. He looked older every time, perhaps more so when contrasted against my youthful visage.

"I wish it was for just the fun of it." He gave me a squeeze. "You look great, as always. How's that idiotic street rat who keeps hanging around?"

"Standing right here," Dieter said, narrowing his eyes. His grin ruined it. "Ready to get to work, Charlie?"

"Now that the band's together? Hell yeah." The older man ruffled his short gray hair. "I've been doing some poking around. Not a lot of info to be found, to be honest. I don't think they're really adjacent to our folks. That said, I did find some things out about that little symbol."

Dieter perked up as we walked out to the baggage claim area, both he and I grabbing Charles's bags before the ex-con could. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Charles said, flashing us a smile. It had taken him a long time to get used to consideration from other people. I had worked hard to reach past the walls prison had built in him. The combination of his forgery conviction and drug possession alongside a violent stay in a federal penitentiary made for a hardened, but very skilled man. After spending years cultivating him like a beloved rose, it was always wonderful to see hints of the petals in his smiles. The thorns were still there, but I considered the occasional prick the price of being close to such a bright soul.

"Do not keep us too much in suspense," I teased him.

"There was a cult back in the '70s here in L.A. with that symbol. They weren't linked to any murders like the Mansons, but a lot of people around them disappeared. An investigative journalist wrote up half a series on them, but they didn't get much other press."

"Half a series?" Dieter asked, brow furrowing.

"He died of a heart attack, and it seems like either no one else was interested or they were under a lot of pressure not to publish. He dies, the cult disappears. Then, that symbol crops up again on a book cover, Queen of Hearts. The usual vamp romance trash. The author's local to L.A., doing signings most nights this week." Charles pulled up a picture on his phone and showed the author to me.

My lip curled slightly and I glanced to be sure no one was close enough to overhear us. Fortunately, the jetlagged at 1:00 AM had better things to do, even here in a massive airport like LAX. "That is the one of my kind who influenced Hugh."

"Well, he's got quite the fan club. Good cover for a lot of willing meal tickets and prospective turns, I guess. He's had a lot of girlfriends." Charles flicked to another picture. "Recognize her?"

I did all too well. "Olivia van Dijk."

"Not her original name. I guess when their little romance ended, she changed it and made contact with a buddy of mine, Rufus. He put her in hiding, but had his own price for that. Good at his job, but he's an asshole with a capital 'A'."

Dieter raised an eyebrow. "She didn't go to a women's shelter?"

Charles shrugged. "Her heroin addiction probably would have made that awkward, at least since she wasn't ready to quit. Rufus said she made contact with him through her dealer. He lost track of her about three months ago, once she started trying to clean her life up. She doesn't owe him any more money, so he didn't go looking."

"That explains a great deal, most of all her eyes."

"Hard life for a kid," Charles said sympathetically. He looked over at me, measuring my pensive expression. "What's on your mind, Malle?"

"She had the misfortune to be at the Internationale when we were. There is a chance he will find out." I took my phone out of my pocket. Olivia and I had been texting during the wait for Charles's flight to get in.

"Not really our problem, Malle," Dieter pointed out. "We need to get a more permanent base of operations set up. I've got everything we don't need immediately in storage, but we need a place where we aren't going to be interrupted by hotel maids or gunfire. That rental is a really short term solution."

Charles shook his head a little. "You know how she gets with cute strays, Dieter. It's why you're still breathing."

"And what does that say about you, old man?"

"That she needs to get those eyes of hers checked."

I looked up from my phone. "I knew what I was doing when I chose the two of you," I said gently. "I took the difficult with the wonderful. This is no different."

Both men looked faintly embarrassed and perhaps a little pleased with that comment. "So what's your plan on this one? You gonna bust out the smooth moves or just rely on your natural magnetism?" Dieter asked.

I shook my head and sighed. "She may need our protection, but that does not entail a romance. I have no intent of becoming excessively...involved."

"Tell that to Yesterday Malle," Dieter said with amusement. "I think that lover girl's got some more than friendly thoughts spinning around her pretty head courtesy of you."

"I understand that, but I do not intend to take advantage of her vulnerability. Finding this other vampire takes priority over whatever interest I might have."

Charles clapped Dieter on the back. "Ain't it cute when she goes into denial mode?"

Dieter's lips twitched into a sudden grin. "Adorable."

I opened the trunk of the car and set Charlie's heaviest bag in. "If you continue carrying on in such a fashion, I will begin the recitation of both of your most embarrassing moments."

Dieter studied me for a moment, growing wary. "Careful, Charlie, I think she means it."

"You really going to fight dirty, Malle? After everything we've been through? C'mon," Charles said, still highly amused. "I mean, you've always been a sucker for—"

"Februrary 14th, 1996. Chicago, Illinois. A truly terrible strip club named Ozzie's Gentleman's Club. The word Gentleman's was in quotations on the sign itself. Her name was Candeee with three 'e's—"

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Charles ducked into the car. "Alright, alright! You win! Jesus Christ!"

Dieter laughed. "Hey, I haven't heard this one!"

Our forger glared at him. "And you're not gonna."

I smiled as I got into the back seat. "I thought she was rather nice."

Charles's baleful glare relocated to me. "You would. I distinctly remember you cackling like a hyena the whole time."

"What happened?" Dieter demanded. "I need ammo, Malle."

"A rather unfortunate case of alcohol mixing with testosterone poisoning, culminating in being handcuffed to a park bench so his paramour could get away when the cops almost caught them in flagrante delicto. Fortunately, bolt cutters are more of a fashion statement than strictly necessary when your wingwoman is a vampire." I gave Charles a toothy grin. "If you play with fire, sweet man, a little burn is unavoidable."

"That is not a full story," Dieter objected.

"It will be all you get from me," I said, tipping my head back. "Your burning curiosity will be your punishment."

Dieter looked over at our forger and grinned. "So, Charlie Boy, how about telling—"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." Charles did his best to sound dignified.

"But a gentleman in quotation marks totally does, right?" Dieter waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

I smiled, satisfied that I had distracted the pair of them. When I glanced down at my phone, I saw the invitation waiting for me.

Why don't you come over? I've been awake writing music and I really don't feel like sleeping. I'm a total night owl.

I checked my phone, measuring the time until dawn in my mind. I had hours, more than enough that Dieter could drop me off and pick me up with time to make it back to the new hotel.

It would be a delight, I typed back. May I please have your address?

My phone chirped almost as soon as I set it down. "Dieter, I need a drop off." I spoke as nonchalantly as I could, but he knew exactly what I meant.

"Sure thing, Malle," he said. I realized something was wrong by his voice. "As soon as I lose this tail."

Charles grabbed the handle up above the window as we sailed towards an intersection. Dieter was about to drive dangerously even by California standards. "How the hell did they find us?"

"I don't know." Dieter deftly spun the wheel, making an illegal U-turn in the middle of an intersection, dodging cars like a ballet dancer moving from pirouette to pirouette.

"Pull into that alley ahead." My good mood hardened into a steel resolve. "They'll come after us."

"You sure that's a good idea, Malle?" Charlie asked.

"Just stay in the car and keep your heads down. I can handle a few thugs."

The two men exchanged a brief, worried look, but Dieter obeyed almost automatically. He pulled us into the alley, mercifully one that emerged on another side. I got out of the car as soon as we had slowed almost to a stop.

"Don't do anything too—"

I didn't wait to hear the rest of Charles's shout. I moved straight at the car that followed us.

My nails lengthened and hardened into claws, tough enough for me to slash open the side of their tire with superhuman strength. I heard a gun go off in a sharp succession of cracks, taking out their own windshield. A hollow point round exploded against my ribs, but the organ damage it did only ruined my shirt and jacket, blood as dark as used motor oil oozing from the wound without a beating heart to pump it. I knew to halt such vestigial functions before a fight.

The sudden drain in my stolen vitality as my body mended itself and the sheer terror of the men in the car let loose the Hunger from its chain of civility and respectability.

I punched through the driver's side window and grabbed the man. My claws sliced right through his seatbelt and I dragged him out while his partner took a few more shots, all going wide as I knelt over my struggling victim.

Suddenly, he was not the hunter, nor I his quarry. He was living the fear of all humans, deep down—to be confronted with a devil-faced carnivore here to devour all that he was. I sank fangs into his throat and ripped, tearing into his jugular and carotid with ease. I dropped him then, even as the Hunger in me howled like a demon.

He would die. His friend with the gun would not be so simply fortunate.

Another bullet hit me, this time pancaking against my breastbone now that the Hunger was free. The bones of my ribs snapped back into place with sharp crackles, splintered pieces forced up out of the wound even as unholy regeneration mended every flaw in the freshly knitting ribs.

I didn't monologue at him or even snarl and hiss. I just grabbed him by the hand with the gun and slammed him against the wall so hard that things in his weak, human body broke. He cried out in pain, trying to bleat out like a baby rabbit in a cat's claws. My jaws crushed his throat, silencing all sound, and then I ripped into his essence itself.

Memories were dragged screaming into my consciousness—names, places, faces, hopes, dreams. I drained him of joy, hope, love, fear, anger. I took it all, letting the sanguine spill replenish the damage he had done me as well. Once he was just a husk, hollow eyes and a dying heart, I dropped him and ripped off half his jacket, using the fabric to clean off my face and hands. There was no need to search the car, not when I had his memories to sift through.

I walked back to our car and slid into the back seat, both fuming and riding high on the euphoria of a fresh feeding.

Charles handed me a packet of bleach wipes from off the floor as Dieter drove away. The back seat was already coated in a plasticized lining for this exact sort of occasion. It made the blood much easier to clean out. "You okay, Malle?"

I looked at him, eyes so dilated that my pupils had taken a shark-like quality. "Delighted, Charles."

He winced. "I hate it when you do that in their voices."

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to focus on returning even as my new memories wriggled through my consciousness, trying to find fresh places amongst the ruins of those I'd stolen before them. "I apologize," I said in my voice instead of my victim's. My nails shaped back into their normal, trimmed form. I typically kept them cut short since I handled a firearm and fought on regular occasions.

Charles shifted uncomfortably. He and Dieter both would dote on and defend me until the day they died, but they had to contend with that same hellish fear as my victims did. That unshakable certainty that I was a predator wearing human skin, alluring and horrifying at the same time. It was one of the reasons I tried not to feed around them. Killing was one thing, this was something else entirely.

Dieter always took it more in stride, but he also saw it more than Charles did. "You get anything useful out of that, Malle?"

I closed my eyes, submerging myself in the memories. They came as flashes, that same man, that same voice. I want you to follow this woman. An image of me appeared as if conjured behind my eyes. Just see where she goes. Don't engage.

Sure thing, Mr. Byron.

I opened my eyes. "The name the vampire is using is Luke Byron," I said dryly.

"Does he know about your jazz singer?"

The question prompted a wave of rage from the vampire in my new memories. That little bitch is still alive?

"Yes," I said. "If he does not have her now, he will try soon."

"You good for a rescue mission?" Charles said, glancing back at my bloody clothes.

I gave Dieter the address before looking over at Charles. "I have had considerably worse."

The old man hardened at that reminder. "You might want to really use those wipes, Malle. You look pretty vicious right now."

"There should be clean clothes and a hairbrush in the bag on the seat next to you, Malle," Dieter said as he drove us to Olivia's address. It was habit for him to leave a set in the car for me in case of things like this.

I cleaned off with the wipes before putting on the fresh blouse, thankfully a dark sapphire color that wouldn't let the blood on my bra show through. I wasn't going to provide a free show to passing motorists by changing that. Then I leaned forward so Charles could help me get all the blood off my face and neck, where it would be most likely to be spotted.

I changed slacks once we pulled to a stop down the street from Olivia's apartment building. It was an older building in a rougher section of town, but seemed well maintained. The people here were the sort that worked with their hands one way or another, something I could appreciate.

Dieter frowned as he looked over the area. "Seems quiet. I'd really feel better if one of us went with you, Malle."

I opened the car door. "That just puts one of you at unnecessary risk. I will be right back."

"You going to bring her with you?" Charles asked.

"She is not safe here on her own."

The older man didn't look convinced. "But with us—"

"Hey, Malle, some guys just went in there with a purpose," Dieter said, interrupting. "We'll keep the car running. Charlie, my man, keep an eye out for anybody keeping eyes on us."

I loped away from the car, moving just a little faster than a human could. I wanted to ambush them in the stairway if possible, before they could make it to Olivia's door.

There was a good chance, and I knew it, that I would have to hide her with some shelter somewhere or buy her a ticket out of L.A. with a donated nest egg to help her start over. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

But if she realized what I was, if I wasn't careful enough, my options were going to be far less clean.