Spirit Sanguine by Lou Harper

me, and Ray promised to pin a bull’s-eye on me if I didn’t behave.”
    “Sorry about that. They’re very protective.”
    “That’s okay. I’m getting used to the death threats. You’re a bunch of wusses, though.”
    “How do you figure?”
    “Real vampires don’t give warnings. They just do it.”
    Harvey snorted. “Does that come with a T-shirt?”
    “Huh?”
    “Nothing. Truth is, Stan and Ray are a couple of hens. You shoulda heard the clucking they did when I went back to work. They thought it was too soon.”
    “You went back to work?”
    “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
    “You’re a vampire!”
    “So what? I don’t eat, but I still need money to pay the bills, buy clothes, pay rent—unless you expect me to spend daylight hours hanging upside down in a crypt like a bat?” Harvey turned around and glared at Gabe between the seats.
    “Oh. I didn’t think of it like that.”
    “Well, I already worked night shift, so there was no big difference. I quit later when I came into some money, so I could spend the time working on my tonic.”
    Gabe twisted sideways and squeezed his hand under the passenger-side seat for the bundle he’d left there earlier. He shoved the spikes into his cargo pockets. Pulling one out, he pushed it in Harvey’s general direction between the seats. “Take this.”
    “Are you crazy? I don’t want that thing!”
    “We’re possibly dealing with a mentally disturbed, undead thug. You need protection.”
    Harvey yanked the stick out of Gabe’s hand and threw it next to the money bag. “There’s no way I’m gonna stake another vampire, or anyone, for that matter. Where am I supposed to hide it anyway?”
    Good question.
    “Just slip it in your hip pocket when you get out of the car.”
    They drove to the given location, only to receive a new text sending them somewhere else. This repeated twice. Eventually they ended up somewhere on the South Side. Gabe only knew that from Harvey’s comments. Judging from the tire screeches and angry horns, Gabe was lucky he couldn’t see the road. Harvey pulled up by a curb and turned off the engine.
    “Don’t look back. He might be watching,” Gabe reminded him.
    He cautiously pulled the cover back over his head, leaving only a small gap on the side that wouldn’t be visible from any direction. They stayed there waiting for several very long minutes. The only noise in the car was their breathing and Harvey’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel. At long last, the phone made a dinging sound.
    Harvey read out the text. “Walk down to the alley ahead. Third door on the right.”
    Gabe whispered from under the blanket, “He’s watching. Do as he says, but if he texts again, forward it to me. Don’t do anything without sending me a message first. I’ll wait five minutes before going after you.”
    Harvey murmured an okay as he leaned over for the bag. He got out of the car, locked the door and headed off toward the alley. Gabe watched the seconds and minutes count down on his phone. At three minutes and twenty-five seconds, the text window popped up. Close door , it said.
    Don’t , Gabe messaged back hastily, hoping Harvey would get it and leave the door open.
    He waited another minute to get out of the car. He noticed the lone stake left on the passenger-side seat and cursed.
    It was not a nice neighborhood. Trash lined the sidewalks, and clumsy graffiti covered the walls of what looked like an abandoned apartment complex. The alley was empty. The third door on the right was a rusted metal thing—pulled closed, with no doorknob on the outside. With rising panic, Gabe wedged his fingers and nails between the door and the frame and pulled. To his relief, the door yielded. He noticed a twenty-dollar bill folded up and crammed into the locking mechanism. Smart boy .
    Looking around, Gabe worked out that he was at the back end of an abandoned apartment building. Time and neglect had flayed the pea-green paint from the