Page 13 of The Monster and the Last Blood Match

“Thanks.”

He smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Reyna.”

“You too, Everett.”

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked.

“Warehouse District, 54 Boulevard East.”

His eyebrows rose at the address. He was obviously wondering why a woman leaving this residence, dressed to the nines, was going to a run-down suburb.

“Just tap your card on the screen and we’ll begin.”

She removed the black card, wondering all the while if what Everett had said was true. She stared at the computer display in the back of the town car, then did as instructed. Once her card hit the monitor, it lit up.

Beckham Anderson

Reyna Carpenter

Visage Incorporated

Unlimited

Her jaw went slack.

And then the numbers ticked up. She watched as the cost for the ride increased dramatically. More money than she or her brothers had seen in a lifetime was now being used for one car ride out of the city. Unbelievable.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen as the city disappeared behind them and they rolled up to her neighborhood. It had only been a day, and already it felt like a lifetime. The driver pulled up to the Warehouse District slowly, almost cautiously. Being away in Beckham’s immaculately clean apartment made a stark contrast to her home.

It was filthy.

Filthy was an understatement. It was black. Soot. Pollution.

It was the opposite of Visage.

Ironic that her home would be darker and more eerie than a place filled with vampires who had been known to crave the night, thrive in the night.

“Fifty-four Boulevard East. What building?” the driver asked.

She pointed to a ramshackle apartment building five stories high. Half of the roof had blown off a couple of years back during a bad storm, and so it looked even more dilapidated than the surrounding buildings. Her brothers lived on the third floor in a drafty little hole in the wall.

“I’m going to see if anyone is home. Will you wait?” she asked.

“Miss, I wouldn’t recommend someone like yourself going up there alone.”

One day away from home, and already I don’t belong.

“I’ll be fine. Just wait for me right here.”

As she opened the door, she shivered slightly. Her nude wedges touched the sooty earth. For some reason, the first thought in her mind was that Beckham would never let her keep these shoes now.

She made it up to the third-floor landing uninterrupted. Not even Mrs. Lowry was sitting with her door open, ready to yell at anyone who passed. The door to her apartment was never locked, because there was nothing to steal, and she walked right inside.

“Brian! Drew!” she called.

No reply came. She walked into the one bedroom and found it empty, just three sad pallets on the floor. Her brothers must be at work. She should have gone there first, but she’d wanted to check the apartment.

Hurrying down the stairs, she nearly ran into Gary Forman, the resident pervert. He grabbed her arm roughly. “Can you spare some change? A pretty young thing like yourself is sure to have a little something extra for a poor man like myself.”

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