“I don’t think it will--”
The smoky old mirror behind the bar began to twist in place as the vampire stared into it. She believes vampires are real. She cures them. He dropped the remote control and slid off the leather barstool, fighting to stay in the moment.
She cures vampires.
A stumbling step toward the back door brought another wave of realization. She can cure me.
“Hey, Erik, you OK?”
The vampire didn’t answer as he unbolted the bar’s service door and stumbled out into the frigid spring air. Even as the cold freshness of the salty air hit his cheeks the vampire could think of only one thing. He had to find Catherine Blacke. If she really did have a cure for his curse he had to know.