Sterling leaned against the coffin, staring at the print in the dust, and wondered what he should do.

He hadn’t been a vampire for long—not quite a week, actually. For the first few days, his mantra had been “WWDD?” Which hadn’t worked so well: when the woman he tried seducing as his first victim pepper-sprayed him, he attempted to turn into a bat and discovered he had no idea how to. Sterling didn’t think Dracula would run down a crowded street while some lady shrieked obscenities and threw her shoes at him, but…

Sterling was at the mall, morose after the clerk at the formal wear store laughed at him when he asked about capes, when he saw the book in the window of a Borders. He bought it and rushed home, and read the first pages before nodding off around dawn.

He didn’t have to worship Satan? He didn’t have to wear black? Not all vampires were sexual deviants? (Okay, that last one was mildly disappointing, somehow.)

But that was as far as he’d got with the book before some brat snuck in and stole it.

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