Running in the Dark Read Online Free Page B

were wild and easy. I’d have liked to express to him my feelings on that particular urban legend. Too bad he was too slow—slow like a human.
    Those rumors about vampires…all of them are true. But not every vamp gets the same swag bag of talents. Enhanced senses, for the vast majority. Speed and strength are pretty much standard issue—something about the current of undead energy raises their physical control. After that it depends on the person they were in life, and the nature of the change. Malcolm had explained vaguely—vampires keep their specs close to their unbeating hearts—that talents generally follow lineage, the way appearances follow human genetics.
    I’d ridden with Mickey to the bar and it took a few blocks before I recognized a street name. A map of the area unrolled through my head. There was a metro station two blocks away, and a bus stop around the corner. Neither was running yet. I walked the edge of downtown, following the sleeping Micro bus route before peeling off onto a winding street packed with closed shops and cafes. They’d be opening soon, and the scent of fresh pastries baking behind one of the empty display windows tugged at my stomach. I was hungry, but there was something I wanted more than food.
    I circled the block until I caught a lull in wobbly couples and loud, merry groups heading home from after-hours clubs. I keyed my code into an unmarked black gate tucked into a recessed stone wall and walked down into a cozy parking garage, empty but for six cold cars. I unlocked a grimy white door near the elevator and stepped into a small room that had probably been a utility room in a previous life, but that Malcolm had procured and had renovated for me. It was probably the single most thoughtful present I’d ever received. The secret rest stop was close to the shop and I could sneak in, clean myself up and walk out without having to worry about people suspecting I worked with vampires and following me home. Of course, Mal had probably offered it to me because he didn’t like me coming home smelling like eau d’antivampire stink.
    Inside, the room was like something out of a James Bond movie, if Bond’s main concern was hygiene instead of armament. It was a narrow closet and bathroom combo paved in white subway tile, with four solid locks on the door. I hung my laminate and bag on a hook, doused them with air freshener, then stripped and dumped my clothes into a small, stacked washing machine. The water in the shower was tepid, and the room was chillier than that. Santiago was cold in June, a concept which just about made my brain explode.
    I washed quickly and dressed in a set of fresh clothes. I wouldn’t ever be fashionable like Malcolm, but he’d rubbed off a little bit. I now owned four shirts that weren’t T-shirts. One of them even had functioning buttons. I swiped away most of the makeup, leaving dark smudges around my eyes, and toweled off my hair. The face in the mirror was angular, sporting the last remains of the color I’d gotten in Hawaii, and smiling. The last was new.
    Through the peephole, the garage was a still life with fluorescent bulbs. A silver Volkswagen Bora sat in the middle of the lot. It was basically a Jetta, with a little get-up to the engine and just enough window tint that you’d have to get close to see inside. I tapped my key fob and the car beeped cheerfully in response. A giddy surge of anticipation filled me. Who knew the possibility of finding a vampire in your home could make you step a little lighter?

Chapter Three
    A lot of vampires live in the suburbs. They keep their yards up, never block the street and tend to be good for property values. Our setup was a little different. We had two houses connected by an underground tunnel that allowed Malcolm to enter through a massive black Victorian on one side of the block, and me through a wood-shingled ranch on the other. This way nobody saw us together, not people who would crow about his being