The black sedan crept through morning traffic like it was hunting something. Whatever was inside that vehicle radiated power that belonged in history books, not driving through downtown looking for parking.
"Marcus," he called softly. The ghoul appeared beside him with that unsettling silence that still caught Kaine off guard sometimes. "You picking up what I'm picking up?"
Marcus's pale eyes tracked the sedan's movement, his head tilting slightly like a dog hearing a whistle only he could detect. The ghoul's lips parted slightly, revealing teeth that were too sharp, but no sound came out. Just a slow nod.
"Yeah, I figured." Kaine watched the vehicle turn onto Fifth Street, heading toward the entertainment district. "Let's follow it. Keep your distance, stay invisible."
They tailed the sedan through six blocks of increasingly upscale neighborhoods, past boutique shops and trendy restaurants where people paid twenty bucks for sandwiches. The vehicle finally pulled into the valet area of the Paramount Theater, a restored art deco palace that hosted everything from Broadway tours to rock concerts.
A figure emerged from the sedan's rear passenger seat, and Kaine's Death Sight immediately painted threat warnings across his vision. Tall, elegant, moving with the kind of fluid grace that suggested centuries of practice with a designer suit on. Even from a hundred yards away, the supernatural aura was overwhelming.
"Jesus Christ," Kaine muttered. "That thing's old enough to remember when this city was just a trading post."
The figure disappeared into the theater's main entrance, surrounded by what looked like security personnel but moved with too much coordination to be entirely human.
Kaine pulled out his phone and googled the Paramount's schedule. Tonight: Red Serenade, some kind of gothic rock concert that was apparently sold out weeks in advance. Ticket prices started at two hundred bucks.
A day ago, that would have been impossible. Now, with his recent windfall from liquidating a certain vampire's bank balance, it was just Tuesday.
"Looks like we're going to a concert tonight, Marcus."
The ghoul's expression didn't change, but Kaine could swear there was confusion in those pale eyes.
"Don't worry, I'll get you a ticket too. Try to look... less dead."
---
The first stop was paying Mrs. Kowalski, because nothing said "successful hunting enterprise" like being current on rent to a horny sexagenarian landlady.
Kaine knocked on her apartment door with an envelope containing three months' rent in cash, plus enough extra to hopefully buy some peace and quiet.
Mrs. Kowalski opened the door wearing what appeared to be a bathrobe that had seen better decades and a smile that suggested she'd been expecting this visit.
"Well, well. Look who's finally got some money." Her eyes immediately went to the envelope in his hand. "That better be what you owe me, Cross."
"Three months' rent, plus a little extra for your patience." He held out the envelope, hoping for a quick transaction.
She snatched it and counted the bills with the efficiency of someone who'd been collecting rent since the the first world war. "Where'd you get this kind of cash? Rob a bank?"
"Consulting work. Very lucrative consulting work."
"Uh-huh." She finished counting and looked him up and down with renewed interest. "You know, Kaine, a man with steady income is a very attractive quality. Very attractive."
"Mrs. K—"
"I mean, you're not getting any younger, and neither am I. We're both adults with... needs." She stepped closer, and Kaine caught a whiff of whatever perfume she'd apparently bathed in. "We could work out a very satisfying arrangement. Mutually satisfying."
"I appreciate the offer, but—"
"Think about it. No more rent payments, home-cooked meals, companionship..." Her voice dropped to what she probably thought was seductive. "I've got experience, honey. I know how to treat a man right."
The mental image that conjured made Kaine want to bleach his brain. "You know what, Mrs. K? Let me think about it."
"Don't think too long. Good opportunities don't last forever."
He escaped to his apartment before she could elaborate on what specific opportunities she had in mind.
---
The first thing Kaine did was shower with water hot enough to scald away the memory of that conversation. The second thing was order concert tickets online, which turned out to be easier than expected when money wasn't an object. Two tickets to Red Serenade, section B, close enough to get a good look at whatever supernatural entity was apparently sponsoring gothic rock concerts.
Marcus stood motionless near the window, exactly where Kaine had left him twenty minutes earlier. The ghoul's supernatural stillness was useful for surveillance but deeply unsettling for casual apartment living.
"Tickets are handled," Kaine said, pulling on clean clothes. "We'll head over around eight, scope out the situation, see what that thing is actually—"
Someone knocked on his door.
Kaine froze. Nobody knocked on his door. Ever. Mrs. Kowalski had her own key and the kind of boundary issues that made knocking irrelevant. The mailman left packages with the front desk. Anyone else who might want to visit him was either dead or wished he was.
Three more knocks, polite but persistent.
He approached the door cautiously, one hand instinctively checking that his concealed knife was easily accessible. A glance through the peephole revealed a woman he'd never seen before, holding what looked like a casserole dish.
Kaine opened the door but kept the chain lock engaged.
"Can I help you?"
The woman was maybe thirty-five, with shoulder-length auburn hair and the kind of smile that suggested someone who'd perfected the art of making good first impressions. She wore dark jeans and a green sweater that looked expensive but not showy, carrying herself with the confident posture of someone comfortable in social situations.
"Hi! I'm Rebecca Cole, your new next-door neighbor." She held up the casserole dish. "I brought lasagna as a sort of housewarming gift for myself. I know that sounds backwards, but I figured it was a good excuse to introduce myself."
"Which apartment?" Kaine asked, though he already suspected the answer.
"4B, right next door."
'Poor girl has no idea what happened to the last guy in 4B. Tommy Ricci, small-time drug dealer who got turned into vampire chow three weeks ago. Spent his last night screaming for help while something with very sharp teeth methodically worked its way through his extremities. The landlord just told prospective tenants he'd "moved suddenly for work."'
"Look, Ms. Cole—"
"Rebecca, please. And I was wondering if I could possibly hang out here for a bit? The gas company is installing my stove, and they said it might take a few hours. I brought ingredients to cook dinner, and I promise I'm not a serial killer or anything."
Kaine glanced at the casserole dish, then at her expectant smile. "I wouldn't mind, but—"
"Great!" She was already pushing past him into the apartment before he could finish the sentence. "This is so nice of you. I was dreading having to sit in an empty apartment all day."
Kaine rubbed his forehead, watching Marcus automatically move toward the newcomer with the kind of predatory focus that marked something identifying potential prey.
"Marcus, relax," he said quickly.
Rebecca turned around, noticing Marcus for the first time. The ghoul was standing perfectly still about six feet away, his pale eyes fixed on her with unblinking intensity.
"Oh, hello there. I didn't see you." She waved at Marcus, who continued staring without any acknowledgment. "Is he... okay?"
"He's fine. Just not very social."
"Right." Rebecca set her casserole dish on Kaine's counter and began unpacking ingredients from a canvas bag. "So this is a nice place. Very... minimalist."
Kaine looked around his apartment, seeing it through a stranger's eyes. One bedroom, fold-out couch, Kitchen that was more suggestion than reality, and approximately zero decorative touches that might indicate a functioning adult lived there.
"Thanks," he said, because what else could you say?
"I just moved here from Portland. Divorce, you know how it is." She started organizing ingredients with easy familiarity in his kitchen. "My ex-husband turned out to be the kind of guy who thought 'supporting your wife's career' meant making sure she had enough grocery money while he spent everything else on his vintage car hobby."
"That sucks."
"Water under the bridge. What about you? What's your story?"
Kaine settled onto his couch, keeping one eye on Marcus, who was still staring at Rebecca like she might suddenly explode. "Not much of a story."
"Come on, everyone has a story." She glanced around the apartment again, taking in the sparse furnishings and general appearance of someone who'd given up on domestic comfort. "Let me guess... recently unemployed, probably divorced, and you haven't had a woman over in months."
The last part was definitely true, but Kaine wasn't about to admit it. "You're zero for three."
"Really? Because this place has serious 'sad bachelor' energy." She started browning meat in a pan she'd apparently brought with her. "But hey, no judgment. We've all been there."
Kaine grabbed the remote and turned on the television, hoping to redirect the conversation toward something less personal. The local news was running its daily body count – five more dead in the warehouse district, all showing signs of supernatural predation.
"This city's getting dangerous," Rebecca said, glancing at the screen while she cooked. "Thank God for the Shadowguard, right? Those hunters are unappreciated heroes, if you ask me. Risking their lives every day to keep us safe from those things."
'If only you knew.'
"They do important work," Kaine said diplomatically.
"I keep hoping I'll meet one someday. You know, socially." She added spices to her pan with the casualness of someone who actually knew how to cook. "I mean, can you imagine being married to one of those guys? Strong, heroic, dedicated to protecting people... that's the kind of man who'd never cheat on you with his secretary."
Kaine made a noncommittal sound, wondering how long gas company installations typically took.
"Shit!" Rebecca jumped back from the stove as something splattered across her sweater. "God, I'm such a klutz. Where's your bathroom?"
"Down the hall, but—"
She was already rushing toward the back of the apartment, opening doors until she found the bathroom and disappeared inside.
Kaine turned back to the television, trying to ignore the domestic sounds coming from his Kitchen. This was exactly why he preferred his apartment empty and his social interactions limited to professional necessity.
The bathroom door opened, and Rebecca stepped out.
Kaine's eyes bulged in surprise.
He turned to see Marcus looking in the same direction, the ghoul's supernatural stillness broken by what appeared to be genuine curiosity.
"Marcus," Kaine said quickly, "close your eyes."