The Vampire’s Blight (Fatal Allure Book 2)

The Vampire’s Blight (Fatal Allure Book 2)

I sigh with happiness as I raise the glass of Chardonnay to my mouth. It has been a quiet day and I am looking forward to the crisp, clean taste of the wine.

The glass touches my lips. The liquid is a millimeter away from my mouth when a loud beeping sound shatters the silence.

“Finally!” I say out loud, maybe too loud, slamming the wine glass down. The liquid sloshes over the rim of the glass, but I pay it no attention. The beeping sounds again. My pager. It is the little bit of excitement that I need. I pick up my phone and call the station. The joys of being a forensic investigator for the LAPD. It’s never a nine to five job.

The call connects.

“Amy McCartney here. I just got a page,” I say.

I hear the dispatcher clicking away at her keyboard. I should be grateful really. I only get called out if there has been a murder. “2517 Poster Street,” the dispatcher says. “There’s a dead body.”

“Thanks,” I say and hung up.

I grab my purse and toss my cell phone unceremoniously inside. My kit is already packed and ready to go in my trunk. I hesitate, and give myself the permission for a small rebellion. I turn back to the coffee table, pick up the wine glass, and take one gulp.

It tastes every bit as good as I imagined it would, but I’m not upset about missing out on my night in. I needed some action. I get into the car and start the engine. I fire the sat nav up and enter the address. It is a good thirty-five-minute drive away. I recognize the general area and am surprised to remember that it is a nice part of town. I was expecting a shady dive bar parking lot. It is Saturday night, after all. Either way, I am glad for the distraction and the potential challenge. I was sitting at home, waiting and slightly worried for my boyfriend Damon to safely come home from his hunt. At least now I can focus my energy elsewhere.

I’m glad I hadn’t made any more progress with the wine. In my line of work, I have to be ready to drop everything and go at a moment’s notice, and I can’t turn up at a murder scene intoxicated. Especially not now.

I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed my job until I was placed on leave a while back. Or rather, forced to take leave after being the target of a murderous shaman who transformed into a werewolf. But now I am back, and I’m not looking anywhere but to the future.

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