I trailed Susan for most of the morning and all she seemed to be doing was mundane errands. I’d planted a tracker on her Volvo sedan, so even when I fell behind in traffic, I was always able to catch up. With her supposed erratic work schedule, I had no idea if the next stop would be the start of a shift somewhere or just another household errand.

But after leaving the hardware store with a few small items fitting into a single plastic bag, I followed her onto the 5 Freeway, headed north. And she pursued that direction for about a half hour, exiting in Diamond Bar. A few miles into the hills, she pulled over and parked on the street, forcing me to pass where she’d stopped and find the next available spot.

I parked a few blocks down and hurried back until I was in sight of her car, not so close as to be obvious. As expected, she was gone. I scanned the area to see which way she went but didn’t see her between the other people going about their days and cars driving by in both directions on the busy street.

I continued toward Susan’s car, passing by inconspicuously and glancing inside through the windshield, in case she was still sitting in the driver’s seat. As expected, she wasn’t.

As I kept my pace down the sidewalk, scanning the vicinity, I realized this place looked strangely familiar. Then I stopped, gazing at the apartment complex across the street, then at the shops I was passing, noticing the small dome of a surveillance camera attached to the soffit outside a storefront door.

I stopped and walked to the entrance, peering up at the camera, then across the street to where it was pointing.

I’d seen this picture before—in grainy black and white. That apartment building across the street was where Jack had found the alleged ashes of the vampire, Martin, who’d caused Fiona’s accident and that door was where Susan had exited in the video footage I’d watched on my laptop. She’d crossed the street and headed down this sidewalk. And now she was back…

I immediately fished for my phone and called Jack. “Do you still have guys outside of Martin’s apartment?”

“Why? Do you have more information?”

“Susan drove back here. I lost her, but I’m standing right outside the building.”

“Let me see,” Jack said. “I’ll make a call and get right back to you.”

After hanging up, I walked away from the door and leaned against a storefront wall, twenty feet away, all the while keeping an eye out for Susan. Maybe she’d gone back up to the apartment to clean up the mess she’d left? But I also kept watch on the apartment building entrance for Jack’s men going after her; I was certain I could pick them out if I saw them.

My phone rang not two minutes later. “They’re not there right now,” Jack said. “Figures. They should be there within the hour though.”

“Whatever; just give me the number,” I said.

“3724.”

“I’ll let you know what I discover,” I said, hung up, and raced across the street during a lull in traffic. After finding a map of the complex, I discovered exactly where I needed to go, crossed the courtyard, and entered one of the back buildings. I took the exterior steps two at a time to the third floor and found the apartment number.

There was no one else along the exterior landing. A few people were walking across the courtyard, but overall, the area was relatively quiet. Curtains at the front window were drawn, and I didn’t notice any light behind them.

I took one more quick look around, then used my superhuman speed and precision to pick the lock and enter the apartment within a few seconds—something I could have done even faster if the sun hadn’t been out, draining my energy.

I assessed the living room in which I found myself, trying to detect any movement within the apartment. When I didn’t immediately pick up on anything, I began clearing each room, until I was convinced I was alone.

The master bedroom’s curtains and shades were still open. There was no sun streaming into the room at this time of day, but there would be by late afternoon. The chair, too, was still in position, and the ashes still around the general vicinity. Everything looked as I’d seen in the pictures; if Susan had been back there, it hadn’t been to clean.

I roamed the apartment to get a better sense of who this Martin was, something still unclear to all of us. There were no computers; probably, they’d been taken by Susan or whoever was responsible for killing him. Several pictures showed Martin alone, or him with a female companion, but there was nothing obviously incriminating. The fresh food in the refrigerator was starting to go bad; I could smell it even before seeing the cancerous spread of mold. Martin obviously entertained human guests, maybe even that lady friend in the pictures? There were also numerous blood bags in the meat compartment. I knew those would still be good.

Since I was alone, I heated up one of the bags and found a glass to drink from. Some vampires didn’t mind drinking directly from the bags, but I never felt comfortable with that if I could help it. As expected, I could discern it was coyote blood—the reason Martin could transform into one. If I drank another one or two bags, I’d be able to as well, until I drank enough of a different species’ blood to dilute it again. This vampiric ability was where the legends of werewolves—and weres in general—came from.

I didn’t practice transforming often, as it was an ability that had its costs—ones I didn’t want to pay continually. Vampires that spent too much of their time in the bodies of animals suffered dissociative disorders, as their single identities deteriorated into the multitude of other species they inhabited. Some lost their identities completely, their minds binding to the wild animals they were inhabiting. I didn’t like the experience, wanting to hold on to as much of my humanity as possible, which was hard enough as the years slipped by.

There wasn’t much else there and it didn’t seem like Susan was coming, so maybe her being in the area was just some strange coincidence. Whatever; there was no reason to linger there.

After finishing my snack, I left the apartment. A striped gray cat scampered in front of me on my way back to the stairs; it stopped to hiss, then sprinted away. I cursed it silently but continued on my path.

On crossing the street, I noticed Susan’s Volvo was gone, so I took out my phone and checked the tracker app. What? Her car still appeared to be there! I walked a little, slowly, then stopped in the position her SUV had occupied, a full car length away from where my tracker map showed the tracker was positioned. Then I realized.

I moved on toward the next car, waited for a few people to pass, then bent down and slid my hand slowly along its underside, reaching into all the hiding spots. My fingers felt and scrabbled around in the dirt and mud, feeling for the most likely spot to place a device, before soon locating the small magnetic tracker.

Well played, Susan.