Matheus Taylor didn’t ask to be murdered. Quin didn’t care. Now, Matheus runs for his life, questions his sexual orientation & defies a mysterious new threat to vampires within his city.

Matheus sprinted the entire way back from the 7-Eleven. He burst through the front door and up the stairs to the second floor.

“Where is my money?” he demanded, slamming open the door to Quin’s study. The heavy wood bounced off a bookcase, knocking over a collection of clay figurines that, if real, were worth close to ten thousand dollars apiece. They rolled over the hardwood floors, rotating in individual circles. Matheus ignored them, accidently kicking one under the couch.

Juliet reached down to retrieve the figurine, placing it carefully on the corner of Quin’s desk. She perched there, like the GirlFriday of a nineteen-forties movie, leaning over to look at the marked maps.

“Hello, pet,” she said. “You clean up nice.”

Matheus ignored her, stomping over to the desk. He slammed his palms onto the map, paper crinkling as his fingers clenched.

“What did you do with it?” he asked.

Quin frowned at Matheus’ hands.

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