IM03 - Pandora's Box by Katie Salidas Page B

in front of his face. “You betta’ teach this girl. She’s got newbie written all over her.”
    Heat rose to my face. I was just trying to be friendly and make conversation, but I guess I was projecting naivety like a beacon. “Sorry, I play poker for my money back in Vegas. I didn’t realize we could still hold down real jobs.”
    “This ain’t my job.” She indicated the rest of the bar. “This is a part-time gig. Working here doesn’t pay the bills, but it lets me keep an eye out for the troublemakers.” She smiled again, showing off her teeth. “A few of us work with the local wolf pack to keep the touristy spots clean.”
    “Speaking of unsavory characters,” Lysander said. “Have you noticed any new vampires in the area, besides us?”
    “People come and go all the time here. Your best bet is to check with Connor. He’s the Olde Town pack leader, and he runs a tight ship. If anything is going down in Bean Town, he’s the one to talk to.”
    Lysander nodded. “We have met. I plan to speak with him soon.”
    “Well, if ya not gonna pretend to drink, I have other customers to care for. Don’t lose my card. You need anything, give a call.” She turned to me. “And if you’re in town for a few days, why not hang out with my crew? A newbie like yourself might benefit from some new scenery.”
    “I’ll consider it. Thanks again, Zuri.” I beamed at her. She definitely seemed interesting. I might enjoy meeting her crew and seeing what Boston vamps were like.
    ***
    On Zuri’s suggestion, we headed to a large park a couple blocks over, near the water.
    The night was growing colder by the minute, and the closer we got to the water the more it clung to me. I understood now what a “bone-chilling cold” meant. It wasn’t freezing yet, but I sure felt like it. Vampires have poor circulation, thanks to our extremely slow beating hearts, leaving us in a constant state of chill. We don’t deal too well with real cold.
    There were still a few people wandering the pathways, but they weren’t lingering. Witnesses weren’t something you wanted when hunting, but the docks nearby would probably be secluded enough.
    Lysander slowed his approach as we neared the water. At first I thought he was pausing to determine what direction to go, but then I felt that eerie sensation again, the one that always accompanies new vampires. I knew we were close.
    I looked around slowly, trying to discern the direction the feeling came from. Lysander, though, seemed to be focused on a homeless man lying under a tree.
    He walked towards the grubby-looking guy who was lying still as death.
    “You’re not fooling anyone,” Lysander said angrily.
    The homeless man stirred and opened his eyes, but they weren’t human eyes. They were the trademark of our kind: an eerie blue-gray that had an almost glow to them in the dark.
    I knew his face the instant I saw it. Edmond.
    “Lysander, what a surprise. When did you get into town?” Edmond asked in his thick French accent.
    The last time I’d seen Edmond, he’d been well dressed and impeccably groomed, sporting Armani suits and Italian leather shoes. Now he looked grubby and dirty, wearing a pair of grass-stained jeans and a grey pullover hoodie jacket. His usually neat raven-black hair had been left loose and stringy around his pale face.
    “Why don’t you drop the charade and tell me what you did with my memoirs?” Lysander said. I could tell he was struggling to maintain his calm appearance. Through our bond, I felt his emotions better than others; and his rage didn’t just radiate, it pumped through my own blood. I too felt a need to restrain myself from taking a swing or two at Edmond. Ratty looking or not, he was ancient too and much stronger than me.
    Edmond scrunched up his face. “What are you talking about? I told you where to find them.”
    “Don’t play games with me.” Lysander’s voice was strained with rage.
    “Do I look like a person in any position to