Page 13 of After Darkness Falls

Even in the darkening night, Chloe could tell that the homes perched up there were different from the rest of Adairford, closer to mansions than humble abodes.

"Who lives there?" she asked, eyes on the hill.

Blair sighed.

"The Drakes, the Helsings, the Belfords—you know."

She didn't. "Am I supposed to recognize the names?" Her brain catching up, she rectified, "Wait, did you say Helsing?"

That name shedidknow. From fiction and folklore.

Blair smiled and gestured toward the doors of the elegant hall. "Let’s go in, shall we? If I need to give you a history lesson, it might as well be with a hot chocolate in hand."

Her fingertips frozen, Chloe had never heard a better idea.

They crossed a lawn and entered the dorm. Inside, the floor was made of black and white checkered marble. Black columns stood on the right side, and white on the left.

"Come on through, this way," Blair said, walking straight toward a door on the left. "The other side is for the students who need a little more supervision."

"Minors?" Chloe guessed.

The Institute of Paranormal Studies was a university, but it wasn’t unheard of for kids to finish high school early.

Blair shook her head. "No, vampires, shifters, succubus. Those who might eat you if you catch them on a bad night. The rest of us can defend ourselves, but it's pretty hard for a simple witch—or a regular, for that matter—to take on an unstable werewolf, so they're secluded and warded off."

It made sense. Chloe should have felt safer knowing that they weren’t in the same section of the dorm, but the fact that she would be living with people even sups considered dangerous hit her right then.

And after giving it another second of thought, she shrugged it off. At least no one was actively trying to kill her. Right now, her mundane world held more perils.

* * *

Four weeks ago

The great thing about being the only regular human working the midnight shift at Sucker Punch was that no one else hogged the fan in the break room. Shifters and vampires never really seemed to be affected by the change of weather, nor was Margaret, the witch waitress who’d started around the same time as Chloe. A breeze seemed to follow her wherever she went. Lucky bitch. Chloe might have asked her to perform the same charm on her, but it would probably cost her an unborn child or something like that. If the locals knew anything about NOLA’s covens, it was that magic always cost more than it was worth.

Chloe had only moved south five years ago, in her effort to run far from the drama attached to her name. When she failed to find a place where no one knew about her, she instead looked for one where no one cared. NOLA fit the bill. The city harbored more sups than anywhere else in the United States. The locals were used to freaks and paranormal attacks, and when they woke up with a strange rash in uncomfortable cracks, they just filed a complaint with the head of the covens rather than waste their time and money at the ER.

It wasn't a home, but it was the closest thing Chloe had to one.

"Hey, blondie. Some tourists turned up en masse," Margaret told her, grimacing. "Bachelorette party. Do you mind cutting your break ten minutes short? You can catch a breather during my break."

"Of course."

She regretfully relinquished the coveted spot near the large commercial fan and headed out of the employees' break room, toward the club.

Like all of the establishments belonging to Charles, the most notorious vampire in New Orleans, Sucker Punch was always packed, and twice as much on a Saturday.

Chloe's eyes widened as she got to the bar. In addition to the two bartenders on shift today, a tall, handsome, and incredibly fast vampire was mixing drinks. Charles himself. It was rare that the boss picked up an apron.

"Is this one going next?" she asked, pointing to the tray of drinks in front of her.

Some bartenders placed the most urgent order on the right side of the bar, and others on the left; it got pretty confusing when righties and lefties were working at the same time.

"Who knows," Margaret said with a shrug. "Charles just shoves them wherever he wants."

She took the tray, glancing at the table number on the receipt. The drinks were headed to one of the alcoves on the second floor. Chloe groaned. Businessmen.

Some people complained about tourists, frat boys, or even werewolves, but Chloe didn't think anyone was quite as rude as successful guys in expensive suits. They believed they owned the world, and everyone in it.

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