Run From Twilight by Maggie Shayne EPUB & PDF– eBook Details Online
- Author: Maggie Shayne
- Language: English
- Genre: Vampire Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Present Day, Bangor, Maine
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He satin the darkest corner of the smallish city’s most popular
“vampire bar,” a place called The Crypt, and watched the mortals play at
being gods. They amused him. Young people most of them.
Twentysomethings who had barely lived long enough to taste life, much less
immortality. The women wore skintight black velvet gowns or scarlet-red
sequined ones. The men wore leather or tailed tuxes and starched white
cravats with cheap fake jewels glittering from their centers. They all wore
cloaks of one kind or another: satin, velvet, lined in scarlet or white fur.
Some had the stand-up collar of Dracula in a style that had never existed
outside Hollywood. Some were hooded. Many of the patrons wore fake
fangs. A few who were, he thought, a bit too fixated and perhaps in need of
mental help had actually had their own incisors fled to points. They
listened to hard-driving bands whose lyrics focused on body counts, and
they drank made-up mixed drinks from the creative menu Type-OTransfusion and Plasma Punch.
White Cell Watusi and Platelet Power. Everyone one who drank here knew the code—the real drink behind the
morbid name. A screwdriver, for example, was known here as a “Cranial
Drill.” All of them contained alcohol, which was perfectly legal now. Most
of them also came with brilliant red coloring added for effect, and stir sticks
that looked like miniature wooden stakes.
Michael knew the code. But he didn’t drink here. Or hadn’t. Yet.
He enjoyed watching them play, though. It was interesting to see
what the pop culture world of the twenty-first century really thought of his
kind.
They were way off the mark of course Vampires didn’t often wear
black lipstick, and he’d only met one who still insisted on the cloak. As for
the multiple piercing and tattoos, those would be less than healthy for
vampires, given their tendency toward bleeding out.
Of course, the costumed customers were not the reason he came
here night after night. She was.
Mary McLean stood behind the bar, hustling drinks and handling
drunks with a grace and good humor that belied her situation. She wore
snug jeans and a shimmering jade blouse of brushed satin beneath an apron
as pristine as any cravat in the place. Her hair was pulled back in a long
sable ponytail that moved whenever she did and fascinated him, too. In
fact, he was expending a great deal of effort trying not to be fascinated by
her, draw to her. He was here to do a job.
She glanced up in his direction though there were too many bodies,
too much smoke and too little light for her to have seen her there. She felt
him, though. She felt his eyes on her, maybe his presence, as well. That
probably wasn’t a good thing. In fact, he knew it to be a bad thing. She
shouldn’t be that aware of him. Mortals rarely were, even her kind.
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