This story takes place fifteen years after Roger's, and begins in Missouri.
***
Obrad stood knee deep in weeds and double checked his phone. The text said he was in the right place. He checked over the abandoned house and scraggily yard. It looked like a vampire den, even smelled vaguely like one, but there were no vampires, and no humans, for that matter. Supposedly a group of rogues had taken up residence. With rogues came high human casualties, often torn to shreds and left to rot, but there was nothing. Just a vague smell, as if vampires had been there a couple of days ago.
Obrad sniffed again, searching for the scent of decay, something you usually found in rogue dens. He'd seen basements with corpses piled high, and one group who'd made furniture from the humans' skulls. He'd never seen clean, tidy rogues.
Maybe the other two will find something.