ONE

A COLD MIST SETTLED OVER the city as I walked. The lights on the buildings made them glow red along either side of the canal, which was perfect for my vampire vision. Not that any of the tourists that strolled along seemed to have any problem getting around or minded the chill in the air.

Bobby trailed a few feet behind me, with the bag of my gear slung over his shoulder, should I need it. Not that I would think I would tonight. It was just a house call to one of our regulars, so to speak. But with vampire hunting, you could never be too sure.

His black bangs fell haphazardly across his forehead, hiding a scar above his eyebrow from one of our more recent scuffles with a rogue vampire. When I had first met him, he'd been a scrawny twenty-year-old struggling art student dating my kid brother. Since then, he had added a few scars, several new tattoos, and about twenty pounds of muscle – and in the process, he had become one of my closest friends.

I'd told him if he wanted to help me out on my missions, he needed to be able to handle himself better, and he had emphatically complied. Eventually, he'd dropped out of school to train and work with me full time.

While both my brother Milo and I had both been initially skeptical that a human like Bobby would be helpful, he'd saved my life a few times. Whether it be watching my back, tossing me a titanium stake, or bringing the getaway vehicle just in time, Bobby had become indispensable to my work as a vampire hunter.

It was hard to believe it had been just over five years since we'd left Minnesota behind for good. The first couple years we spent bouncing around Europe, trying to find some place that felt like home for all four of us. Finally, we happily settled on Amsterdam.

Since then, many of my nights had been spent patrolling the Singelgebied district with its garish red lights and scantily clad women dancing in storefronts. It was an area renowned for selling sex, but that wasn't the kind of prostitution that kept Bobby and I occupied late at night.

—This shouldn't take too long, right?— Bobby asked, not for the first time since we'd left the apartment.

—I told you that you could've stayed back tonight,— I reminded him. —It's just a noise complaint. It should just be a quick in and out job.—

—No, no,— he insisted. —If something were to happen to you before this weekend, your brother would never forgive me.—

I shot him a look. —Yeah, and if something happens to you before this weekend, Milo would never forgive either of us.—

—Right. So let's neither of us get hurt tonight.—

—It's a deal,— I agreed as we approached our destination.

At the end of the canal was a building that looked much like the neighboring buildings surrounding it. A historic but squat brick rectangle smashed between two others. Though it would be indistinguishable to the human eye, I could tell the red light out front was several shades darker than the rest on the street.

A wrought iron sign above the door declared the name - Darah Merah. I knocked on the heavy front door, and a hulking mass of a human bodyguard opened it.

Since this was about the hundredth time I'd been called to Darah Merah, I had met this particular bodyguard many times before, but he always stared at me from under his protruding forehead like he'd just woken up from a caveman slumber and couldn't remember what other people looked like.

—Ottaline sent for me,— I began, but the words had barely escaped my mouth when Ottaline appeared, pushing her guard out of the way.

—What took you so long?— she demanded in her distinctive voice. It was raspy with a thick Russian accent, so she ended up sound like the Moscow version of Kathleen Turner.

Ottaline Rebane was a vampire Madame, a job she'd held for over half of the 285 years she'd been alive. Standing several inches taller than me, she had a regal elegance to her. Her blonde hair was short and loose, and she always wore flowy garments, like a satin robe draped over a long negligee.

—We came as soon as we got the call,— I said as she ushered Bobby and me into the lush parlor room.

—What seems to be the problem tonight?— Bobby asked.

Ottaline's frantic blue eyes darted toward the stairwell. The place was filled with vampires feeding on humans, so it was hard to distinguish heartbeats from another, and there was the faint scent of blood permeating the building.

—It's a new client,— Ottaline explained, with her eyes still locked on the stairwell. —She took one of my best beethoers upstairs, and there was screaming, and now she won't let me in.—

Beethoer was the Dutch expression for "blood whore." Ottaline ran a solid operation, as far as brothels for vampires go. Her young ladies were well taken care of, and she tried to protect them from more violent clientele. Which is why she'd called up the services of Bobby and me.

Ottaline wasn't much of a fighter herself, and the bodyguard at the door was just to keep out human riffraff. So when things got out of hand, we came down to put the vampires in their place, preferably before humans were injured. Most of the time, we could do it without killing anyone, but not always.

—Which room are they in?— I asked, heading toward the stairs.

—It's just right.— Ottaline began, but the sound of wood exploding interrupted her.

The vampire had broken through the bedroom door, sending wooden shrapnel flying everywhere, and with blood dripping down her face and a crazed look in her eyes, she charged right toward me.