You were working at a coffee shop down the street from a Starbucks, taking a "gap year" because you didn't have any money and you were having problems with your student loan payments. You remember looking out the window as the sun set, turning the windows red-gold. The Starbucks was hopping. So was a gastropub next door, but your little coffee shop was empty.
And then the sun set, and someone came inside and didn't order anything.
When you rose again, burning with Hunger and sticky with your own blood, your killer did not call you Kindred, or Cainite, or "vampire." First, you learned about your clan, your lineage—a bloodline that existed since before history, before all cities except one.
YOU ARE READING
"Kieran Frostwood"
VampireIt's a new Dark Age for the dead. When the Second Inquisition's vampire hunters hacked phone lines and computer networks to expose and destroy vampires all over the world, the elders turned to undead couriers like you. For ten years, you've raced ac...
