#anyway that was at 10:45… its midnight thirty now and i have work in the am💀

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

I’ve gone insane.

[ongfreestyle]

Coffee and College

A Jaehyun college coffee bullet au that ZERO people asked for

So anyway, you're in your second year of college and you're in the groove of things (kinda) and all is well

You're on your way to your 9am French I class on the first day and you feel your phone vibrating

It's your bf and you smile thinking "aaww it's our 3yr anniversary n he's calling already to say good morning"

More like... goodbye

Yep. 8:45am he calls you to dump you in the driest most uncool way

"listen. I just ... I know this is random, but....I don't wanna do this anymore."

"oh. Uh. What? Sorry I didn't hear you?"

"I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore I want to break up with you. I'm sorry."

"oh. Ok. Fine. Sure. Umm...if you wanna talk about it later. Then...yeah..I have French class now bye."

End of call and start of class

Yep you're third row from the back and you plan to pay attention to the syllabus talk and following lesson but

You're definitely tearing up

Like literally WHO DOES THAT?? Just dumps you at 8am no explanation??

So anyways there are teardrops on your notes now and ink isn't tear proof so...rip

Anyways thirty minutes in and your head in kinda just down and you're kinda just crying quietly

And then this kid slides into the seat next to you

He's v late

And v cute even through the tears

And he's smiling really big even though the teacher just scolded him

He sets his coffee down and looks at you wiping snot and tears away and he hands you a napkin from his bag

You take it and mutter a "thanks"

And a moment later he slides his coffee to you too

"I didn't drink it yet"

"it's an espresso, extra caffeine"

"I made it myself"

And he's back to taking notes

And you're still kinda pouting, but it's been 45+ mins so you try to at least write down the homework assignment

And you decide to sip the stupid espresso it's actually pretty good

The next day you find yourself at the school cafeteria and guess who it is??

Espresso boy!!

And it turns out that he's even cuter in uniform!

You go to order some food and he greets you with a big smile

"feeling better today?"

"kinda"

"rough day yesterday, huh?"

"yeah. Can I have a breakfast burrito?"

"no coffee?"

"no, but thanks for the free coffee yesterday. It helped. I owe you one"

"no you don't, it's on the house. And so the one I'm about to make you next. It's today's special!"

Who are you to deny another free coffee? So you take his offer and a few minutes later you're at your table eating your breakfast and doing your French homework

And the special coffee is really good

Then one of your friends comes by and is giving you a weird look

"are you drinking the nasty coffee from the cafeteria??"

"yep. Its actually really good"

And your friend's like ??? "It's usually bitter and gross tho ?? Like 10 times outta 10"

And you shrug and get back to work and your friend grabs some food and starts doing their work too

The day goes on and finally you get some time to yourself to think about yesterday

Your ex hasn't called or texted. Nothing. And it just hits you like wow. I'm. Single.

Cool.

Except not cool because you got no closure or explanation and ouch.

So you hate it but just like yesterday, you're crying again. Just. Uglier crying.

And your roommate comes back and is like "awww sweetie, fuck him"

And she says if you wipe your face she'll take you out for ice cream

So fuck the snot and tears, you want some damn ice cream

And out you go!!

Free ice cream you two stop at a park on campus and there's a basket game going on

And your roommate is like SKSSKDJS "LOOK IT'S JOHNNY SKSJDJ"

English??

"that means holy shit it's the hottest tallest nicest guy in school and he's playing basketball look at his ARMS BITCH"

So guess who's watching a pickup game of bball while eating ice cream?

You two!

Oh and guess who else is playing and is red and sweaty and had a nice jump shot?

Coffee boy.

Yup and you might not be interested in the Score, but dammit the view was nice

The game ends and Johnny is the first to come over to the side lines n greet your roommate

She's batting her eyelashes and telling him he did amazing even tho they lost

And he's smiling and chugging water as he goes on talking and coffee boy and a few of his friends are on the sidelines now looking at you

Coffee Boy is the first to say hi and all you can do is say hi back

And thank him for the coffee again

He shrugs, "no problem. Coffee fixes almost everything in college"

Almost everything. And there's an awkward silence

"see you around." He says and he walks away

Like that you never find out his name and life moves on

French class is going well and you sit in the front now and coffee boy is always late and sits in the back

You really don't do anything except exchange glances

Then midterms are coming up and you are a bit panicked bc u definitely neglected French studies

So like any good college student you cram like hell

In the library at midnight you're trying to learn vocabulary, conjugations, grammar points

You look insane by 1am bit you can't stop then you hear someone coming I'm the library

It's (literally if you can guess by now) coffee boy

And he's got 4 coffee cups in a holder with him and a huge backpack

He spots you and waves

"mind if I sit with you?"

"mind if I claim two of the coffees?"

"there all yours" and he sits next to you and slides the holder to you just like when you first met

"I made them myself"

"so you make these awesome brews?"

"yeah the schools coffee recipe is shitty."

"well maybe you should major in business and open a coffee shop. They're really good."

"maybe I will"

And you two study quietly and you peek over to see him going over French vocab

"let's quiz each other?"

"sure"

And it's 2am and you guys realize you're both fukced

Like. No vocab is sticking and the coffee had you two literally SHAKING

And by 3am you guys are just cracking up

"I never learned your name coffee boy"

"Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun."

"well. Good luck with the test tomorrow because I. Give. Up."

And you get up to leave and he offers to walk you home and you accept for safety reasons

"I'm glad to see you so happy. You're pretty like that."

"I'm an ugly crier, huh"

"kinda."

"okay, not the gentleman answer, but I admire your honesty"

"thanks. I hope you have a good night"

Yeah the walk back was not long at all. Too bad because you really were enjoying your time

But 9am French !!!

Midterms are over after a week and it's back to the daily grind

But days are way better when you have French now bc Jaehyun sits next to you (when he's on time and the seats open) and you guys joke around alot during speaking practice

He's brings you a new coffee everyday and asks you how it tastes and what he should add or take away

And you kinda hang out at the cafeteria now so you can talk to him while he's working

Ooppsss you have developed a small™ crush on Jaehyun and it's not going away anytime soon

You even open up to him about why you crying the day you met (tho u vowed to NVR speak of it again)

Yeah now the crush is nvr dying :)))

Bc your friends notice that you always go watch him play b-ball even tho it's not a REAL game

And he always has a coffee for you

And you two are always studying French

But like...you guys are making questionable grades...so...what's up??

NOTHING

French I finals are coming and you and Jaehyun are at your usual spot in the library, except this time YOU bought HIM coffee

"what brand ?"

"gross school brand that you didn't make, but is LOADED with caffeine"

"gross. Hand me one"

"cheers!"

And it's study time

But he's not focused

Like he never is and neither are you, but it's really off now

"is it that bad?"

"the coffee? Yeah. And my French grade? It's even worse. I won't make French 2."

And you're like WTF WTF NO FRENCH 2 WITH JAEHYUN YOUR CRUSH WHO LITERALLY GOT YOU THRU THIS SEMESTER ????

"Jaehyun. We are going to fix your grade with this final. I SWEAR."

You're like REAL STUDY MODE: ON

And he has this small smile on his face.

Sly....

"what?"

"you WANT me in your French 2 class don't you?"

"uuhhh-duhh free coffee to keep me up during le snooze fest"

"you know it's not free. It comes outta my pay check"

"okay, then I owe it to you to get you to pass this class and get to French 2"

"I guess."

Yeah. You're DRILLING info into ur heads ,,,, but Jaehyun is like ____ blank.

So you kinda snap

"yo do u wanna fail??? At least TRY!"

"I can't focus. I'm confused about something."

"past tense conjugations?"

"you."

Pause.

"I can't tell if you're over your ex. You took it hard and I'm trying to wait, but..."

???????????

"my ex? My ex is my ex...I'm over that"

"you never really brought it up much. I wouldn't know."

"Past tense."

"and also. The coffee."

"your coffee is good! I'm serious, Jaehyun!"

"yeah, but do like me...? Or my coffee?"

"both?"

Jaehyun is not making this easy for you okay

"I mean, if I didn't bring you coffee, would you still hang with me? Teach me French n stuff?"

"of course."

"so you...........like......me?"

HELL YES, but you settle for a simple yep

Then he just looks at you seriously

"you LIKE me LIKE me..like....LIKE LIKE?"

"uuhh...if I understood all of the likes right, then....yeah. I do like you."

OH AND THAT DOES IT

He is so reeeeeedddd

Like this boy GONE

You. His crush. Likes. Him. Wtf

Yeah he cannot quit grinning

And when you move on from the topic he can't focus on a single word you're saying

Finals day comes and you feel okay about your score and Jaehyun said he wants to leave it in the past

And you two go hang out at the cafeteria

And he's looking at you across the table

Randomly he just smiles at you

"I..wanna be your boyfriend...."

bc y'all nvr because s/o's officially soooo

Your heart rate

Lemme draw it

/\/\/\/\_______💀

Wow

He said it so cutely

Damn that's crazy bc you would love if he was your bf

And when you say that!!

Reference to drawing

After becoming official you two are like the cutest couple ever

And you go to French 2 and he's back in French 1

He got a 58 on the final :/

But OH WELL you're his tutor now

And you guys actually study

And he doesn't feel like he has to bribe you with coffee to make you like him

So with some hard work you both kick your caffeine addictions

And you guys spend the days making stupid jokes and playing basketball together

Cramming for French while high on 4 coffees each

(old habits die hard)

And you two tease each other so much

It's a miracle you get any work done really

Jaehyun passes his French 1 class with an A+ and he literally runs to your dorm to tell you

You crash into each other

He holds you to steady you

And hes like "babe I passed"

"that's great!"

"it's all thanks to you I could kiss you, but I have coffee breath and-"

"that's nothing new"

Okay and cue the totally cheesy kiss

Where Jaehyun's like "you're right, but our first kiss should be special"

Valentine Boy is a ROMANTIC okay

But it doesn't matter

You can't resist leaning in

And he lets out a fake groan like he hasn't been dying to kiss you since he first saw u snotting all over your notes

Yep he liked you then.

And the lean in was so slow, but when your lips met it was worth it

And the coffee taste.... wasn't so bad anyway

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 1

Or: Big Detective

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking them piteously in the eyes--die with despair of heart and convulsion of throat, on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed.

“The Man in the Crowd”

Edgar Allen Poe

I’ve heard people say that beginning stories with quotes like this is pretentious, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered some for stories I’ve been thinking up. I’m partial to the “feel for your hatchet” quote from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe for one of them. As for how this quote relates to the story, I guess it’s a good way to describe the Masquerade, or the World of Darkness in general, or as a fancy way of hinting to the audience about the nature of the story’s mysteries. Or it just sounds cool?

St. Louis—March 10, 1994

Missouri isn’t the place I’d expect a vampire story to be set, but I guess everywhere has its shadowy underworld.

Two years after the prologue, we’re introduced to the first of the main viewpoint characters. He realizes he’s being followed, thanks to “A sixth sense, the result of years of detective work...” He pretends to scratch his foot and casually scans the crowd.

It was late, nearly midnight, but in St. Louis’ ‘adult’ entertainment strip, things were just starting to happen.

Dozens of people crowded the sidewalk. Men and women, black and white, they were all part of the usual weekend crowd. Cheap whores in black leather outfits that exhibited all of their charms mixed with high-class hookers dressed in silks. In a tough economy, both were anxious for business. Teenagers and college students hunted for drugs, bargaining with street dealers for the best price. Red-faced drunks begged for quarters. Young kids, dressed in rags and violating the curfew, danced on street corners, looking to grow up fast.

A hellhole full of life, in other words.

Young and old, they shared one trait in common. None of them expressed the least bit of interest in the motionless figure of Dire McCann.

We get the full name of our first main POV character. It reminds me of when one of the Penny Arcade guys named their D&D character “Jim Darkmagic”, but without the self awareness.

Dire had been traveling around America for the past few months, so he doesn’t know who he could have pissed off enough recently to get someone to track him. He’s recently been working for Alexander Vargoss, “a rich and powerful industrialist”, and, unsurprisingly, a vampire.

McCann couldn’t believe that his missions for Vargoss had anything to do with his tail tonight. Nobody with any intelligence, even major crooks, hassled the secretive industrialist or interfered with his plans. Besides being incredibly wealthy, with connections in both the police department and the mayor’s office, Vargoss was also the most powerful vampires in St. Louis. In the argot of the Kindred, he was the Prince of the city. And, like the medieval princes of old, from whom the term had been taken (yeah, no shit), Vargoss ruled with an iron hand. Any Kindred or kine (human) foolish enough to cross him ended up dead. The permanent end of the Final Death.

The narrator tells us a little about McCann.

Mysteries annoyed McCann.

Then you’re in the wrong profession, buddy. Wrong franchise too, come to think of it.

Especially when they revolved around him. Though he possessed extraordinary patience, the detective never delayed the inevitable, As he repeatedly told acquaintances, he liked to face the devil straight up.

I’m now picturing McCann as one of those guys who force a catchphrase and annoy those acquaintances by trying to insert it into everything as the whole room groans. 

“Beer shouldn’t be green, even when it’s St. Patrick’s Day. But I’ll try one anyway, cause as we all know... I like to face the devil straight up.”

Luckily for the other characters, he doesn’t actually use that phrase in the story.

Oftentimes, that policy lead to bloodshed. But McCann, though he deemed himself the quiet type, was no stranger to violence. When necessary, he was quite deadly.

It’s mentioned that McCann’s carrying a stack of letters and a small box, and goes on to explain McCann’s mail collecting habits; how he collects from an all-night delivery center because while it’s more expensive he at least doesn’t have to worry about clerks stealing anything valuable.

The certainty of being watched had not started until after he had retrieved his mail. That perplexed McCann. A stakeout meant a long-term commitment of time and resources. He wondered who was after him? And why? The detective meant to find out.

We’ve safely established that Dire McCann is one of those old hard boiled mystery novel style private eyes. One who occasionally does jobs for a vampire. Nowadays private detectives are usually portrayed as weird creeps who bug phones and peek in windows to take photos of cheating spouses, like paparazzi for normal folk. More realistic, sure, but not a portrayal that’d last long in this setting. They’d end up seeing much more than they should, and being weird creeps with a borderline illegal profession instead of quiet but deadly badasses with careful mail collecting habits, they’d be easily killed to uphold the Masquerade.

McCann decides to face the devil straight up and heads into a nearby alley that he’s familiar with, preparing a trap. As he goes through the alley, we’re told that McCann is a great big slab of meat of a man.

A big, broad-shouldered man, standing four inches over six feet and weighing near two-fifty, the investigator moved with astonishing swiftness.

Guess he’s called “Dire” because he’s to a normal dude what a dire wolf is to a normal wolf. Still a goofy name.

The alley is dark, no lights except for moonlight, and there’re rats and trash everywhere. Time for some social commentary.

McCann stifled a snort of disgust. So much for keeping the neighborhoods clean. The main streets looked fine, but out of sight, just beyond the bend, urban decay ruled. Decades of graft and corruption had taken their toll on basic city services.  St. Louis was no different from every big city. The rich and famous received all the benefits of modern life, while the poor and middle class suffered with the crumbs. Things never really changed, McCann decided, his gaze searching the walls. At least not in his lifetime.

The story is peppered with bits like this. The World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World, but sometimes it can get a little too real. You’ll see. Oh, and don’t think I missed that ominous last line about his lifetime. The narration insists that Dire McCann is human, though...

McCann hides in an alcove a dozen steps away from the twelve-foot high steel privacy fence the alley ends at, out of sight from anyone following him. From his topcoat (all the implied hard-boiledness of a trenchcoat but without looking like a hobo) he pulls out his gun. Vampires are hard to kill and most guns are useless against them, but since it takes time for them to heal enough force can immobilize them. That’s why the narration, somewhat over dramatically. reveals that McCann’s gun isn’t a .45 automatic or a .375 Magnum, but an Ingram MAC 10, whose bullets “could rip any normal man to shreds and smash a vampire flat.”

Eventually, the guy tailing McCann shows up.

Hugging the shadows, the newcomer was a short, stocky man in his mid-thirties, with swarthy, cruel features.

Swarthy, huh? As descriptions go, swarthy is like the evil twin of “olive-skinned”. Both are used by fantasy writers to describe people of color, but in a vague way that doesn’t tell you their actual ethnicity so sometimes they could just be white people with tans like the Dornishmen in A Song of Ice and Fire. While “olive-skinned” is generally a catch-all term, “swarthy” is more negative. Which is unfortunate since swarthy literally means “dark skinned”. Now, I don’t want you to think I’m accusing Robert Weinberg of being racist. I’ve heard people say that they thought swarthy meant something like “roguish”, like a thief or pirate or something. But I wouldn’t recommend using swarthy as a description when writing.

 Also he’s called “swarthy” like five goddamn times.

The tail realizes he lost McCann and goes to examine the fence at the end of the alley, walking past McCann’s hiding spot in the process. Trap sprung, McCann steps out behind the tail MAC-10 aimed at him. After some back and forth (“Lose something, brother?” “McCann, right?”) McCann tries to ask who-

The detective never completed the sentence. The stranger’s right hand twisted unexpectedly. As if by magic, a thin cord flashed out from beneath the man’s arm and-wrapped whip like around the Ingram. McCann was caught completely by surprise. Before he could squeeze down on the trigger, the gun went flying from the detective’s hands.

Phhhhthahaha, that’s great! After all that build-up over how he uses a kickass MAC-10 instead of a Magnum like that pussy Dirty Harry, he’s immediately disarmed. By a guy who turns out to be a regular human, too.

Free of the threat of the submachine gun, the swarthy man attacked with a ferocity that had McCann reeling. A series of savage karate kicks to his chest sent the detective stumbling backwards. Steel-tipped boots felt like hammers striking McCann’s body. Growling deep in his throat, the assassin leapt into the air, aiming a sideways thrust for the detective’s head. Enough force propelled to crush McCann’s skull like an eggshell. But it never connected.

McCann grabs and twists the leg, breaking the assassin’s kneecap, then knocks him out with a wooden box. After a few minutes of searching, McCann finds his gun and the assassin’s rope.

A long thin strand of black fiberglass it was knotted in three places to crush to crush a man’s windpipe on impact. The weapon successfully melded melded modern technology with ancient sacrificial ritual.

Huh. Sounds like an interesting weapon for a guy who’ll turn out to be an unimportant throwaway assassin.

You ever heard of the inverse ninja law? How the more enemies the hero has to fight at once, the easier they are to defeat, while just one guy is a real threat? There’s a related trope that this scene reminded me of; the more unusual an opponent’s weapon is, the harder they are to defeat. A ninja wielding a katana is gonna be a chump, but the guy with the chain with a scythe at the end? Watch out for that guy. It would explain how the assassin could instantly disarm McCann like some sort of kung fu lord but go down in one move not long after he throws the rope away.

Course, that’s just tropey shit. The more practical reason the assassin lost was because he didn’t just shoot McCann after disarming him, instead resorting to riskier physical combat. But that’s why tropes like the inverse ninja law exist. They typically make the fight scenes more exciting and varied depending on context. It wouldn’t be much of a story if McCann lost his gun and then got shot in the head.

Still kind of funny how eccentric the guy’s weapon is and how much of a physical threat he briefly posed compared to how he’s about to be described. Reminds me of something I wrote during my teenage online role playing story days, where two of the protagonists fought some nameless generic guard and I made it weirdly dramatic and over the top.

McCann ties the assassin’s hands behind his back, with his own fiberglass rope to add insult to injury. He attempts to interrogate the assassin, who responds by demanding to be taken to the police and given a lawyer.

McCann smiled. “Funny thing about this part of town. Cops don’t come around here very often. They figure anyone crazy enough to wander about deserves what they get.” McCann rapped the muzzle of the gun against his prisoner’s undamaged knee. “You’re on your own, my friend. Back here, we’re isolated from view. Nobody can see or hear a thing. There’s no cops, no lawyers. Just you and me. And my gun.”

MAC-10 shots echoing out of an alley would get some attention, but the threat works. The assassin starts sweating and flickering his gaze between McCann and the gun.

Mentally, the detective shrugged in disgust. (Don’t ask me what a mental shrug is) He was wasting his time threatening this clown. It took a lot more than a veiled threat to worry a true professional. The swarthy man was cheap talent, hired merely as a diversion.

A cheap talent clown who was kicking your ass a few minutes ago, you smug meathead.

This bit highlights the problem with the previous fight scene. This assassin was shown just a few paragraphs ago to be an expert with an unusual weapon who could turn the tables on McCann even though the detective had snuck up on him and had a submachine gun aimed at him, and a good enough physical fighter to overpower McCann with karate kicks and nearly cave his head in, but now he’s presented as an incompetent and disposable pawn who whines about wanting a lawyer. The scene could have just had the assassin pull a gun on McCann, who quickly subdues him. It’d fit the assassin’s later description as unprofessional and amateur better. Instead, Weinberg tried to go for “cool’ but ended up with “silly”. So remember, writing something just because it’s cool is fine, but try to make it consistent with the rest of the story.

Now what was that about the assassin being “hired merely as a diversion?”

A decoy! The thought slammed through McCann as the sensation of being observed suddenly flared. Instead, the big detective flung himself flat on the ground in the darkness.

I like the needless qualifier that McCann is a big detective. There’s something cute about it.

The realization that this assassin was a decoy apparently triggered a sort of spider-sense. The moment McCann, who is large, dove to the ground, a second assassin opened fire at him from the corner of the alley. They missed McCann, despite his above-average size, but killed the first guy. McCann fires back, but the new assailant already fled.

“Strike quickly, then move. That was the operational procedure of a true professional.  Never waste time on meaningless chatter or second tries. Mistakes like that were for amateurs like the dead man sprawled against the wall.

Oh what the hell is this? McCann was the one caught off guard by “meaningless chatter.” He was disarmed by the first assassin while he was talking to him. The guy was easily bamboozed by McCann’s “hide in an alcove and sneak up on him when he passes” trap, but McCann totally blew that advantage by talking so it doesn’t really count. The guy’s just blaming the poor dead man for his own screw ups. “A true professional wouldn’t have let himself get hammered in the chest by karate kicks, unlike this dead clown who totally got karate kicked and not me. Also wouldn’t have been disarmed by my, not his, weird rope thing that’s totally mine, not his.”

The big dick thinks “the real assassin” was gone.

A short, muffled gasp and a flash of white leather indicated that McCann jumped to the wrong conclusion. The detective shook his head in disbelief. The night held more surprises than he liked.

Three figures stepped into the moonlight.

We finally meet some goddamn vampires.

Their leader was a tall, aristocratic man with a face that appeared to be carved from weathered stone. He wore a black tuxedo with a ruffled white shirt, a red bow tie, and a matching red cummerband. To McCann, it was a costume right out of a wedding. Or a funeral. The detective, though, knew better than to speak his thoughts. No one dared insult Alexander Vargoss, Ventrue Clan elder. And the vampire Prince of St. Louis.

Gotta say, despite him being a Ventrue, I can respect the man for not being above walk down a filthy rat infested alley wearing a fancy wedding outfit just to dramatically reveal himself to the big oaf he occasionally employs.

A step behind him stood two nearly identical platinum blondes. White leather jumpsuits clung to their voluptuous figures like second skins. High cheekbones, pitch black eyes, and wide sensuous lips gave them a predatory look.

Well yeah, it’s a 90′s dark fantasy novel. Of course they’re hot.

McCann had encountered them before. They were Fawn and Flavia, Vargoss’s twin bodyguards. Silent and deadly, they never spoke. Or acted without direct command of their Ventrue employer. Assamite assassins, the twins enjoyed their notorious nicknames as the Dark Angels of the Kindred.

A name like ~*~The Dark Angels~*~ seems quaint nowadays, but again, 90′s fantasy novel. But hey, maybe they were named by a Toreador.

Fawn’s holding the corpse of the second assassin, a “horrified expression frozen on his face.” She has blood on her upper lip like an old “Got Milk” ad.

With a flick of her long tongue, she wiped it clean. Then, mischievously, the vampire smiled seductively at McCann.

The detective shuddered. Though she looked to be in her early twenties, McCann knew the girl and her sister were actually hundreds of years old. Oftentimes, the pair mocked him with suggestive gestures. They enjoyed pretending that passion still stirred within their perfect forms. But McCann wasn’t fooled. Along with food and drink, vampires no longer craved sex. For them, hot blood was the ultimate high. Carnal pleasures meant little to them. However, McCann had heard tales of Kindred who had taken human lovers in a desperate attempt to regain some of their lost humanity. The notion made his flesh crawl.

Way to be judgmental, investigatore grande.

There aren’t any actual sex scenes in this book, but trust me, the subject of undead sex will come up again.

Vargoss gives one of those humble little “we were just in the neighborhood” explanations. Specifically, they were on their way to McCann’s office to be haughty little undeads to their human freelance employee in a proper setting when they saw him enter the alley followed by “two lowlife scum”. They figured McCann wouldn’t want their help, so they stayed hidden.

“However, when your adversary chose to flee rather than fight, I demanded he stop.” Vargoss shook his head in mock despair. “The fool chose instead to pull his weapon on me. Fawn, of course, reacted.”

McCann loots the bodies, finding some money and a billfold he’ll examine later. There’s a paragraph giving us another glimpse at how cruel the world (of darkness) is, telling us that the assassins will be mistaken for vagrants and that since there’s fifty unexplained deaths in St. Louis every month, two dead bums won’t be mentioned in the newspaper. McCann says that Vargoss could’ve warned him before the second assassin started shooting.

“Nonsense,” said the Prince, smiling. “I had absolute confidence in your ability to deal with the situation. Circumstances proved that my trust was not misplaced.”

“That first fight, however, there I overestimated you. A shorter man with a rope was taking you to school for a while. No, don’t pull the stoic grumpy private eye act and deny what happened. We all saw it.”

“And if you were wrong?”

“There are other humans, McCann,” said the Prince. “Never forget that. I find you vastly entertaining. And quite useful despite your mortal limitations. I would mourn your passing. But you are not indispensable. There will always be others to take your place. In five hundred years, you will be no more than a pleasant memory. I will still remain.”

Vampires are to other monsters what elves are to other fantasy races: smug little shits. It’s why more people fantasize about banging werewolves and fish people these days. But Vargoss is talking down to McCann of all people here, so I’ll let it side.

“What a cheerful sentiment,” said the detective.  He picked his words very carefully. Vargoss appreciated his honesty and his sarcasm—within limits. No vampire in St. Louis mocked the Prince of the city. Much less a human, no matter how entertaining. McCann tiptoed on a tightrope where undead horrors feared to tread.

“Ah, McCann. What a scamp he is with his silly first name and his sarcastic barbs. But not too sarcastic. He knows I can make him defecate in his hands and throw it at other people like the big ape he is.”

“I cannot afford the luxury of emotions,” declared Vargoss, almost wistfully. “We Kindred are an ambitious race. It is part of our heritage. More than a few of my loyal subjects believe that they should rule this city, not I. Too many of my nights are spent squelching their ill-conceived plots.”

I’m imagining Vargoss being voiced by David Warner here. You know, the guy who voiced Ra’s al Ghul in Batman: The Animated Series, The Lobe in Freakazoid, and that one crappy villain from Gargoyles.

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” said McCann.

“Shakespeare understood the politics of power,” said Vargoss. “He should have been one of us.”

As long as he wouldn’t be made a Toreador, ‘cause then he’d spend his eternal life writing just the shittiest plays and sonnets imaginable. Also, careful there, Mr. Weinberg. Remember than Edgar Allen Poe is your dead poet waifu. You don’t want to make him jealous.

Vargoss has had enough witty back and forth and commands McCann to come to his club around midnight. He has a guest from overseas with news of “extremely disturbing events” from the former Soviet Union and for whatever reason he wants some human detective’s opinion on it.

“I’ll be there”, said the detective . “At midnight.”

“Because as we all know-”

“McCann, no-”

“I like to face the devil straight up.”

“Damn you, Dire McCann... Who’s even the devil in this context? What’s going on overseas? Me?”

Vargoss and the ~*~Dark Angels~*~ leave. As the chapter ends, McCann is standing alone in the alley with the two corpses.

Holding in his hands a small box and a stack of letters, several with foreign postmarks. And an enigmatic smile on his face.