Page 7 of Taste of Blood

Why are you texting me?

Can’t a guy miss his best friend?

Leave me alone, Asher.

Sorry, that’s not going to happen. I don’t think you want that either.

How do you know what I want?

I always know what you want, Cord.

You know it’s true. I can wait, but I’d rather not waste the time.

You’ve gotten pushier, if that’s possible.

Only when it’s something worthwhile.

I’m going to bed now.

Good luck sleeping, lover.

♦ ♦ ♦

The fucker cursed me. I didn’t sleep a wink all night, just kept tossing and turning in bed. I finally get up before dawn and go out for a run. Yeah, you’d think being a vampire meant I didn’t have to work out, but you’d be wrong. And I need to stay in top shape to do what I do. The mood I’m in I hope some asshole tries something with me so I can crush his head. I’d even make it look like an accident so I wouldn’t have to deal with Dante’s bullshit.

When I get back to my apartment I take another shower and brew a cup of coffee. No, I don’t need it, but I like the taste, though after all these years I still miss how that first jolt of caffeine in the morning could kick start my day. With nothing pressing, I open my laptop and check my email to see if Dante has another job for me. I need to blow off some steam.

There’s nothing from my boss, just some spam and miscellaneous garbage. I close the laptop as a text pops up on my phone. Hoping it isn’t more of that same fuckery from Asher, I side eye it.

Hi Cord, this is Luca Abate. You probably don’t remember me, but you helped my mom a few years ago when she was attacked. You said if ever I needed help, to reach out. Well, this is me reaching out.

Luca Abate? I have to think about that name. Yeah, now I remember. About four years ago. His mother Sophia was attacked by a rogue while walking home from work one night. I happened to be in the neighborhood and ran down the guy, treated him to a little street justice before taking him back to Dante, who made him disappear without a second thought.

Her son, Luca, was like fifteen and was scared for his mother when I went by their apartment to let him know Sophia was in the hospital. She had seen things–things humans weren’t supposed to see–and she was sounding crazy to the cops who interviewed her. Hard to put that cat back in the bag. I kind of took them under my wing, explained some things that turned their world view upside down. Things humans weren’t supposed to know.

Dante would’ve had my head if he’d found out, but I wasn’t going to let the woman believe she was nuts. Besides, the area of town where they lived was a hotbed of unsanctioned vampire activity. Dante had his men patrolling the streets, but they couldn’t be everywhere at once, so I made sure the Abates knew what to look for and gave them my number, promising to help if they ran into more trouble. When I didn’t hear back from them, I assumed everything was all right and forgot about it.

Hey Luca. I do remember you. What’s going on?

It takes a few minutes for him to respond.

People have started disappearing at the restaurant where I work. I’ve seen two guys hanging around outside. Could really use your help.

Want me to come by your apartment?

No, I don’t want to worry my mom. There’s a coffee shop across the street from the restaurant, Giovanni’s in Brooklyn. Can you meet me there around 10?

See you then.

I google the restaurant Luca mentioned and see it’s in the same neighborhood where they live. Luca said meet him at ten, but I decide to head over there now and take a look around. Whether it’s vampires or not, I doubt they’ll be out and about this time of day, since most bad guys tend to prefer operating under the cover of darkness.

Still, I might be able to spot clues as to their presence. And who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky and catch one of them hanging around. While there are still old school vamps who adhere to the nocturnal creature of the night thing, daylight doesn’t really bother us. We might burn a little easier due to sensitive skin, but that’s about it.

I grab my jacket and keys and head out. The city is already in full rush hour mode, the smell of exhaust, garbage, and warm bread from the neighborhood bakeries mingling in the morning air. As usual, traffic on the bridge to Brooklyn is heavy, but I still make it in less than thirty minutes, so that’s a win.

I cruise around the neighborhood in question for a while, checking out any activity in the area. Nothing suspicious jumps out at me, but I know it will take a deeper dive to be sure. I park and start walking, paying attention to everyone I pass. When I spot a homeless kid hunched in a doorway, I stop and pull out a twenty, dangling it in front of him.

“What do I have to do for it?” he asks suspiciously.