Page 42 of Bite Back

ASHER

The envelope arrives on my doorstep the next morning with an ominous thunk, no apparent sign of who delivered it.

The paper’s thick and heavy, smooth grain rubbing against my fingers.

My name adorns the front in an ornamental script: Asher Levine.

I yawn, trying to shake off the tiredness blanketing me, and push my brain to focus. Is it a wedding invitation?

But that doesn’t make sense. There’s no address, no stamp, nothing to indicate normal mailing. No. This was hand delivered.

I bring the envelope inside, sinking my aching body onto the sofa.

I feel hungover. My migraine may have passed, but I’m still left with this, the aftereffects.

I twist my neck from side to side, trying to work out the stiffness.

At least my apartment’s clean, thanks to Delilah.

A small, no doubt goofy, smile curls across my face at the thought of her.

My hands turn over the envelope carefully and slowly bring it to my nose to sniff. I detect a whiff of cigar smoke and a hint of musky aftershave. But nothing nefarious.

Slowly, I ease my index finger under the crimson wax seal and wiggle the parchment inside out.

My eyes widen as I take in what’s written there.

On the face of things, it’s an invitation, worded in the flourishes and politeness that befit the elegant parchment it’s on.

Our presence—mine and Delilah’s—is cordially requested.

I recognize it for what it is, though. This is no invitation. It’s a summons. My stomach flips when I read the name scrawled in all caps at the bottom, messy script at odds with the beautiful calligraphy of the rest of the letter. Vladimir. One name only, no surname needed.

The invitation, the demand for an audience, is from no less than Vladimir Alekseev, city councilman and one of the most respected vampires in New York. In my Academy training, we took an entire unit on his rise to power. It was hardly needed.

Everyone knows him. Breathless news coverage followed his historic run for office, one of the first by a vampire.

Some supernaturals ran for office at the first opportunity, wanting to make sure their interests were represented in the rapidly changing landscape.

But vampires were slower, more cautious by nature.

But Vlad’s lived lifetimes. And now, he seized the chance to try something new.

Among vampires, he has a reputation of unflinching fairness and unfailing consistency hundreds of years old. And among humans, he’s earned begrudging respect over the course of his three years in office.

I deal with vampires who make violence their currency. Vlad’s determined to move beyond all that.

What does Vlad want from us? And what should we do about it?

My mind tallies the possibilities. Did Luka say something to him? Did someone notice us outside the poker game the other night? Does this have something to do with Delilah’s old job? My hand rubs the back of my neck.

I hate this. The questions swirling in my mind. The uncomfortable churning in my stomach. The sense that things are spiraling out of my control. And, most of all, I hate that I don’t know how to fix any of it.