David Masterson paid the doorman of the vampire rave. He’d either gothed it up enough or they were slow. Inside he stuck out like a prep school boy in a mosh pit. It was like a lot of night clubs, but the color red dominated, crowded white faces and fangs flashing in the strobes. Simulated blood dripped down every other chin.
David’s sensibilities were torn. These were either kids having fun or demons in training, but he couldn’t tell the difference. It didn’t matter. He was profiling a real vampire, two kills so far, one man and one woman, both kids who’d come from this club, and he needed to get into the monster’s head.
He needed to get into his head not only to stop the next murder, but to find out what happened to Erica, his colleague, who’d pursued a lead one evening and hasn’t been seen since.
A drop-dead gorgeous blonde bared her fangs at him, to which he returned a thin, tolerant smile, then ignored her. She seemed indecisive, but moved on.
The vampire wouldn’t come here to blend in. He would stick out, his dour carriage a sharp contrast to the garish costumes and flamboyant exhibitionism. The fake blood would stoke his appetite, so he’d keep away from most of them. The show of faux violence would be extremely clumsy and childish to him, a true vampire being stealthy and quick, never letting blood spill or be wasted.
Why, then, would he target these idiots? Was it because they embarrassed him, and he wanted to frighten them away?
David realized he was making a fatal mistake. To get into the monster’s head he can’t ask why. Vampires have no understanding of volition. There reasons derive from cold calculation in the pursuit of blood. David must simply ask ‘what?’ What calculates into targeting them?
It’s a distinction that men aren’t wired for. How can a vampire profiler even begin to think like that? David twisted his mind, restricting it to nothing but calculation and blood lust as far as he could achieve it.
He studied the surroundings. Drink, drugs, and exhibitionism. There was nothing here for a vampire, so he went out the front and walked the perimeter. There were a few secluded spots in the back, but nothing that would make especially good hunting ground.
He’s not looking here to feed. He took them because they were convenient. Followed them until they were in a vulnerable place, but that’s not what drew him here. Something that would bring him here… a person. A specific person. The only person a vampire takes interest in is one that he’s bitten. One that he didn’t drain until dead, but let live to become one of their own. Which means he got away… or she?
With equal amounts of hope and horror, David started a new profile for a new pursuit. How do you get into the mind of a monster hunter, infected by the curse, on the run from man and vampire?