The streets of Old Haven are filthy, and for the first time since they arrived, Cole and Noah are glad that they’re not wearing their normal faerie clothes. “You know, I once visited a town that looked sort of like this,” Noah says as they round a corner and step around the bricks that are crumbling from the façade. “Detroit, about forty or fifty years ago.“

They stop, listening as the sound of roaring engines approaches. Ducking into an alleyway, they watch as the joyriding humans go charging past, their trucks bristling with weapons. “Shit.”

“I agree. Think they’re looking for a fight?” Noah says, smirking. “We could give them one.”

“No. They’re not part of our mission,” Cole whispers as the trucks go roaring by again, taunting calls for shifters to ‘come out and play’ coming from the passengers. “We don’t have time to play.”

“Do you feel any kinship with the Earth’s shifters?” Noah asks randomly as they make their way down the alleyway. “They are natural enemies of the vampires.”

“I do feel some pity for them, trapped in only two forms and bound to the moon’s cycles. But at the same time, they are pack creatures who are thriving despite the odds, finding joy and love in their families. I do not think they would be impressed with whatever additional powers faeries may have over them but would simply celebrate a shared heritage and continue thriving in the one they've developed themselves over centuries." With a nod that his thoughts on the matter are complete, Cole continues, "Come. We have an important mission to complete."

They follow the alley, but before they reach the end, a man blocks their path. “Well, now, what do we have here?” he asks, his rifle cradled in his arms. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, it’s past curfew for—”

The human’s words are cut short as Noah’s staff comes flying through the night, smashing him in the chest and knocking him to the ground with a cracked sternum. The two Fae run up as the human gasps for air. “You . . . you . . .”

“Shut up,” Noah growls, punching him in the face once before depositing him in a nearby dumpster. “If you’re lucky, you might wake up before the garbage truck comes around.”

Deciding that the neighborhood is getting too dangerous, the two head closer toward the river, where the smell of old, dried blood starts to seep from the crumbling brick and cracked sidewalks.

“And I thought our block was bad,” Noah whispers as they stalk down the streets. “I can feel our enemies’ eyes on us.”

“Then we’re in the right place,” Cole says, pointing at a sign. Poenari. “Only a very cocky or stupid vampire would name their bar after Dracula’s castle.”

“Or a very strong one,” Noah reminds him.

“Then let’s be careful,” Cole says, adjusting his coat to hide his sword while still keeping it useful. “Your staff?”

Noah nods, and with a twist of his wrists, the enchanted staff separates and collapses into two pieces. “Shall we?”

The club is in the basement of the old building, and both guardians can feel the bass of the music through their feet even before they get through the door. There’s no bouncer. There’s no need. Vampires enforce strict loyalty up and down their ‘blood lines’ and nobody else would be stupid enough to start problems in a vampire club unless they were suicidal.

Reaching the ‘dance floor,’ Cole and Noah look out over the swarm of teeming, half-naked bodies. Everything is red, black, and white, with blood red lighting pulsing in time to the music. Vampires and humans mix in writhing pairs, trios, and more, near-orgies taking place in the black leather booths that line two walls.

Most of the humans look drugged, Noah says to Cole, using their Link to be heard over the music. What do you think?

Cole shrugs. That might be. Let’s . . . mingle.

The two head for the bar, keeping their eyes open. While the humans are oblivious, more than one vampire glances at them, confused by these two outsiders who are obviously to their senses Paranormal . . . but not of a kind they’ve seen before.

The barman is a human, although by his pale complexion and lean, nearly gaunt appearance, Cole figures he’s either a thrall or not much longer for this world. “What’s your poison?”

“Your specialty,” Noah says, letting Cole check their backs. “We’re looking for someone.”

“Aren’t we all?” the bartender replies. “Anyone in particular, or just looking for a couple of bodies to get freaky with? The selection’s pretty wide open.”

“We’re on business,” Noah says. “A vampire named Marcus.”

The bartender’s hand shakes as he puts two glasses of deep red liquid in front of Noah, his already pallid expression going pinched and ghostly. “Don’t know no Marcus. You might need to look elsewhere.”

The bartender walks away, and Noah picks up the drinks, sniffing them before handing one to Cole. “Mostly blood.”

“You couldn’t find some pineapple juice?” Cole sighs. His favorite drink in the human world, it’s a rare indulgence for him. “Mixed with a little vodka or something?”

“Sorry . . . guess this ‘sangria’ is the best they have,” Noah says, carefully dumping the drinks on the floor. The two continue with their questioning, talking with multiple people and asking about Marcus.

The answer’s always the same. “Scram . . . or else I might think about having a second evening meal,” one vampire tells them as she turns away. “Fuckin’ freaks.”

Leaving the bar, both are in a bad mood. “We should go in there and start bashing heads,” Noah grumbles. “That might get their attention.”

Cole nods. Their weapons, while not wooden, were infused with the powers of light. That and their natural faerie magic made his swords even deadlier to vampires. “Perhaps, but . . . wait.”

Stepping back into the corner, Cole gestures. Noah follows his point and sees a dark-haired man with a swarthy complexion along with another human. “Eve’s partner?”

“I believe so,” Cole whispers. They’d only had a moment to see him that first night, but his memory is near-perfect. “Listen.”

At the corner, the man pulls out a badge, showing it to a vampire who’s stepped out of the club. “Detective Joe Gonzalez. This is my partner, Detective Porter.”

“Who’s the new guy, Gonzalez?” the vampire asks. “Thought your partner was a cunt.”

“New partner. You haven’t been watching the news?” Gonzalez asks. “Here to see your boss.”

“Lot of heat in the area, and you want to bring a new badge to see the boss?” the vamp remarks. “You sure about that? He’s not gonna be happy.”

“Very sure. And my partner can get a drink downstairs while we talk. Now move your ass before I raise hell.”

The other cop looks nervous but goes inside the club, and Gonzalez goes around the corner with the vamp. With a silent glance, Cole and Noah follow. “Odds that other cop leaves the club alive?”

“Small,” Cole whispers back. “But we cannot help that.”

Sticking to the shadows, they follow the vampire and Gonzalez for two blocks to an old riverside warehouse, where the two disappear inside. “Ideas?”

Cole nods, pointing. “Side stairs. Door’s ajar.”

The warehouse is dark inside and smells of meat and filth as the two creep behind a stack of plastic crates to try and listen. There’s only one light in the warehouse, and the voices aren’t trying to muffle themselves.

“You’re not Marcus. Illir, right?”

The voice that replies is high-pitched, not whiny but almost . . . deferential. “Yes, Detective Gonzalez. While Master is always pleased to meet with you, he is understandably . . . cautious. He is not sure that your offer is legitimate, and tonight is a dangerous one, even for our kind. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“You have a threat,” Gonzalez says. “His thrall squealed before Carter crushed his brain to a pulp.”

Cole looks at Noah, both thinking the same thing. Dirty cop. She was set up.

“He was a minor assistant,” Illir replies. “I assure you, the Master’s operation is quite safe.”

“Perhaps. But if—” Gonzalez says, but Illir interrupts.

“We have company.”

The lights in the warehouse flare to life, and suddenly, Cole and Noah find themselves surrounded by half a dozen vampires. Their pale skin is pearlescent under the light, their bodies varying from lean to almost corpulent depending on how well-fed they’ve been. One of them, his broad shoulders rare amongst the vampiric race, chuckles. “Well, now. Master was correct. The Fae.”

One attacks, his fingers extended into claws and fangs bared, but he doesn’t even get within touching distance before Cole’s sword swings, slicing his head in half and sending him crashing into the nearest crate.

“Noah!!” Cole says as he brandishes his sword. Unfortunately, for all his centuries of training, Cole knows that certain problems are inherent to his favored weapon. In the confined space behind the crates, Cole’s sword is restricted and Noah’s staff is nearly useless. Both weapons require open areas, more attuned to the battlefield than the hallway. Luckily, after so many centuries of working together, Noah knows what they need even without being told and is already moving.

“On it!” Noah says, turning and planting his massive hands on the stack of crates behind them. Summoning all the strength that his mighty body possesses along with all the reinforcement that his magic allows, he shoves, sending crates tumbling. A swarm of bodies falls out as the crates burst on the concrete floor.

Cole and Noah scramble up and over, leaping the pile to land in the middle of the floor. “Where’s Gonzalez?”

“That way!” Noah yells, pointing toward a closing door. Before they can pursue, however, a dozen vampires are in their way, this time armed. It isn’t often that vampires need weapons, but this time, things are different.

“Faeries. I thought Master was just trying to scare us,” one says, tightening his grip on the gun in his hands. “I shouldn’t have doubted.”

“Question is, what do you have up your sleeves?” Noah asks, pulling out his staff halves and flicking his wrists, extending them to their three-foot lengths.

“Don’t matter. You were the ones asking about Marcus, and now you’re here, and now you die,” the leader of the vampires says.

They attack with ferocity, with superhuman speed and strength. They’re even more organized than most vampire attacks, having been trained and organized for whatever this grand plan is.

Noah swings his half-staffs, crushing vampire bone and pulverizing undead muscle, while Cole is even deadlier. Avoiding most of the bullets flying his way, his sword cleaves through bodies like red-hot wire through water balloons, felling vampires and lopping off limbs as if they were nothing.

It doesn’t take them long, only thirty seconds, to dispatch the last of the dozen protectors. “Clear!”

“Clear,” Noah confirms. “You’re bleeding.”

Cole looks down at his left shoulder, willing with his mind. The silver bullet pushes out to clatter to the concrete, the wound still oozing but closing slowly. “Silver, but not enchanted. I’ll be fine.”

They run out of the warehouse and around the corner, back toward the bar. When they’re still fifty yards away, though, they see Gonzalez along with Marcus’s assistant getting into a black limousine, the vehicle peeling out with ten vampires on motorcycles riding security.