But the true pièce de résistance had come at two in the morning, when my resident toilet demon made its presence known. It hadn’t physically manifested, but it sure had enjoyed chanting at me in what sounded like an ancient language. Eventually, it’d switched to English, and from there it’d told me things. Things I would never repeat to a living soul.
Hell, I hadn’t even known toilet demons were a thing until last night. Two hundred years old and I was still learning.
Thankfully, my roommates had finally settled down around dawn, after successfully wearing themselves out like toddlers collapsing after a sugar crash. I, however, hadn’t slept a wink. Because who could after all that? I’d spent the rest of the night curled up in the farthest corner of my room, eyeing the bathroom like the toilet might grow legs and eat me.
I was a vampire. I didn’t even use human facilities! But that demon terrified me more than anything I’d experienced in my eternal existence. And I’d met tax collectors.
Eventually, I’d braved leaving the safety of my corner and decided to take a walk. At the time, that’d seemed like a better use of my time than cowering like a child, since I hadn’t seen the town yet. I’d arrived so late last night, then jumped straight into the meeting with Claude. So far, the only residents I’d met were my ghostly roommates, and they hadn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat.
I stepped off an uneven curb and onto the main street, hands buried in my coat pockets. My eyes and head throbbed, but thankfully, there was no glaring sun to make things worse. Sunlight might not be lethal to vampires, but it sure did give a girl a migraine after a night of no sleep.
At least the town was quiet. Almost eerily so compared to New Orleans. The French Quarter was all loud music, street noise, drunk tourists, and parties galore. That was nothing like here, though. The town was so sleepy I was starting to wonder if I’d stumbled into a Hallmark movie with a heroine on the run from a failed relationship, trying to rebuild her life…
…Oh, wait a second.
I wandered down the street and took in all the closed-up shops. It was far too early for anything to be open, but that didn’t stop me from seeing things in the windows that I’d never seen before, not even in New Orleans. Floating teacups spinning lazily in the air, hovering jars that pulsed with magical blue light, and—unless sleep deprivation had finally rotted my brain—a boutique with pastel wigs that were straight-up dancing. Twirling and bopping along to some music I couldn’t hear.
That was weird, right?
New Orleans had strange things too, but this was stranger. Then again, I supposed that was one perk to living in a town with absolutely no humans in it. The locals didn’t have to hide what they were or what they could do. They could let out their inner magic without fear of exposing our existence.
I shook my head and continued onward, passing a café where two women sat at a table outside the front doors. They were arguing over something, though I couldn’t tell what. Something pink and possibly dusted with sugar. Whatever it was, they both wanted it. Until something floated closer with a tray in hand. Something translucent and very clearly dead.
Gods, another ghost. I wasn’t sure I could handle that so soon after my previous evening.
The ghost gave a sweeping bow and presented a tray to the arguing ladies. They instantly shut up and both reached for what looked like two cinnamon buns. The ghost-barista smiled, then drifted back inside, clearly content he’d put out that fire.
Okay… Moving on…
The next shop I passed was a clothing store with mannequins dressed in floor-length gowns. They turned slowly on their little platforms, all elegant and serene—until the one on the left froze mid-spin, tilted its head, and shot me a full-on glare.
I blinked.
Pure, concentrated judgment emanated from the inanimate object. That was new.
My attention dropped to my reflection in the window. Yeah, okay, I hardly looked my best in my wrinkled outfit and yesterday’s makeup.
Well, screw you too, Miss Mannequin.
I grinned, flipped her the bird, then continued down the street until I ended up in what had to be the town square.
Since I’d arrived late last night, I hadn’t noticed the strange clock tower planted in the center. But I certainly noticed it now. The whole thing shone a deep violet color, and strange runes wound up its frame. Some caught the morning light and shimmered brightly. Others blinked out of focus the instant I tried to make sense of them. Almost as though the clock tower itself was forbidding me from seeing them.
But that would suggest the clock tower was sentient. And that was ridiculous. Right?
I glanced back at the store with the mannequins. I swear, the one on the left was still glaring at me.
Okay, maybe not so ridiculous.
But definitely strange.
I lingered a little longer, taking in the sight, before venturing onward. I hadn’t made it far when the soft rhythm of nearby footsteps caught my attention. I turned to find a woman jogging toward me, dressed in black leggings and a cropped tank top with a full moon printed on the chest. Just beneath it, in cheeky white letters, were the words: Wanna Howl?
Ah, a shifter. That made sense. They liked to do wild and crazy things—like run.
She slowed the moment she reached me and pulled out an earbud. Then the other.
“You’re new,” she said.
