The play ended, and they strolled out into the thick fog of the chill London evening, speaking of what they had just seen.
And then, as fate would have it, they walked right into the “damned English vampyre.” Gabe was able to tell—the taste of the vampyre’s blood was in his mouth as if it were that night.
“Well, well, well. Who have we here?” The English vampyre didn’t appear to pay any attention to him. “Shall we dine?” His gaze was fastened on Remember, and there was a gloating note to his voice.
Gabe could feel his eyes glow red. This vampyre might be older, which might make him more powerful—although on the other hand, it might not—but that was Gabe’s black swan he was taunting. Before the vampyre knew what was happening, Gabe blurred the area surrounding them and attacked him. He d
