Jared's heart sank as he remembered Lou's subdued attitude at the office. Lou, who had never liked him, being nice to his ex's best friend. Now he had on a look of careless confidence and swung a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Roses?" Jared said. "Really?"

Lou ignored him, approaching Rose with the bouquet proffered. She prickled.

"Who the hell invited you?"

"Congratulations, babe. I know that car was a lotta work."

"Oh I do not need this right now."

"I wasn't gonna miss your celebration." He stopped a few feet away. "I had to come by and surprise ya."

"Yeah, well—consider me surprised."

"Hey, I know we had a rough patch. But we've always got through it before." He moved to her side and dropped to one knee, raising the bouquet. "Roses for my princess."

Rose opened her mouth, took in a breath, and screamed at him. "How dare you! How dare you come here uninvited, crash my special day, after what a total fucking dick you have been! Tonight is not about you and your hot and your cold, and your fucking flowers, and your princess bullshit, and your toilet seat up, and your lame-ass fucking paper, and your snooping, and your flaking, and your paranoia! You were not invited, and you do not get to be here!"

Lou looked floored and was silent for a moment. "But...I gotta be here. The LouJERS Club would just be Jer's Club!"

"You're right, that wouldn't fit," Alma agreed. "We're obviously Rose's Club."

"That's dope."

"But—it's only you, babe. It's always been only you."

She was shaking her head, cornrows flailing. "No. No-no-no-no-uh-uh. I am so done hearing that from you."

"She wasn't even pretty—"

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

Lou's mouth gaped open.

"Y'know what? Why donchu go see your little whore right now? I'm sure she misses you and would appreciate some flowers. Or you can just shove them thorns right up your ass, Peach Cheeks."

Lou went beet red, and his mouth and throat moved as if he were trying to speak. Then he jerked to his feet and spun around to go, but not before his gaze passed over Jared, and he marked the expression on his face. Fire flashed in his eyes, and he strode rapidly off into the trees.

There was an awkward quiet. Jared thought of a pun, and managed to keep his mouth shut.

Alma was looking at the bouquet, lying where Lou had dropped it. "Some species of mantis eat their mate when they're done with him," she said.

"Y'know, that is just the random-ass fact I need to hear right now." Rose scooped up the flowers and moved them to the grill, where they started to smolder before catching in streamers of flame.

The gang watched quietly as the bouquet burned to ash, its plastic sheath crinkling and dripping greasily away, leaving a foul odor in the air. With muted goodbyes, the party broke up, Rose and Jared sharing a subway home with barely a word between them, until they parted near her block.

"Hey, uh, congratulations on the car, Rose. I'll hold you to that tour."

She gave him a half smile. "For sure, Jer. G'night."

Jared watched her glumly until she was out of sight. Finding himself suddenly alone, his other pressing worries came crowding back in, and he stared anxiously at the spot where he'd last seen her, searching the shadows for any other signs of life. But deciding it would be unwarranted to follow her back to her place—if anything, only endangering her should he be pursued—he headed home, his eyes on the lookout and his hand on the Seal in his pocket.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he was going to finish this, and things were going to get better.

Who the fuck am I kidding?

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The Navy Yard complex, Brooklyn. As he drew up to the appointed hospital building Sunday morning, Jared remembered the last time he had come here, on assignment for a story. It had been a slow week, so Lou had sent him out with a camera for some atmospheric descriptions of the scene. The article had ended up being mostly his account and photographs—the story itself was thin. Reports of cold spots, glowing orbs, sudden feelings of desolation. He hadn't experienced any of this on his field trip, but that was only natural, Sue had informed him.

"Ghosts are most active at night."

"Makes sense. Only the benighted see 'em."

"Stern!" Lou barked from his office. "Go get those pictures developed!"

"Yeah. At least something about this'll be well-developed..."

"What was that?"

"I'm going!"

The grounds were much as he remembered them. Creeping ivy and crumbling granite. Imposing Doric columns and broken or boarded windows. A more than warranted quiet clinging close over the compound, whose bramble-choked paths were cut off from the surrounding city by a curtain of trees. He folded his arms over his chest. For all his dismissiveness of it, it gave him the creeps. This place was haunted even in the light of day.

Still, it was a space that the vampire hadn't suggested, and one Jared had been over before. He adjusted the strap of his bag, which the weight of his preparations was causing to cut into his shoulder, and started in.

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Twilight settled over the hospital, giving sinister dimension to each flat shadow. He had scoured the building several times, preparing, checking for traps, and clearing out any pieces of loose wood and scrap the vampire might use for projectiles. The rooms were mostly bare—aside from bricked-over fireplaces from the days before central heating, a trash can, a few gurneys, and a banged-up desk were about all that remained. Rotting staircases, bone-white with splintered railings, connected the floors from the wings on either side. Coats of whitewash over lead-painted walls ran ceiling to floor, rendering the entire structure in a lifeless monochrome. Even the doorknobs had been whitewashed over, as if something dwelling in this place had needed to be thoroughly sealed in.

It was dark inside, despite the daylight, and the boards in the windows were nailed in fast. Only the stairwells were well lit, for the cracked skylights above them. Strings of caged bulbs dangled down the flights and ran along the colonnaded halls connecting the wings. In the basement, he'd found a fuse box with a breaker labeled with a peeling piece of masking tape reading "constrctn." He'd flipped the switch, and the lights had flickered on.

He had eaten and rested, and now, with dusk encroaching, he found himself without a vantage point. The old building had no roof access, and though there were windows at the top, the trees smothering the complex would afford him no view of the vampire's approach. He had gone outside to wait, keeping a wall at his back, but standing there while the darkness deepened, with only a scrubby evergreen for cover, he quickly began to feel exposed. With one hand on the Seal of Solomon rolled in his pocket, he started moving, slinking along the side of the building, when from through one of the unboarded windows, a movement arrested his gaze.

He flattened himself against the granite, craning his neck to peer through the glass. There was a figure in the ill-lit hall, leaning against a doorframe. It didn't seem to have noticed him.

Is that him?

At this distance it was too dark to tell. But it seemed to be blocking the door to the room where he'd laid out his plan.

Dammit, how'd he get around me?

Something about the way the figure held itself seemed to speak of some pain. Remembering the vampire's jump from the power station window, the twisted angle of his leg, Jared crept for the entrance, ducking under the windowsills as he passed, darting glances over them to keep the figure in sight. It hadn't moved. He slipped through the front door and burst into the hallway, Seal raised—there was no one there.

Shit!

He whirled, eyes out for movement as he sought cover. His forearm brushed something wet, and he flinched, his gaze snapping to it. A dark splotch stained his shirt. He yanked the fabric up.

Goddammit!

The cut in his side had torn again, leaking through the bandage—in the heat of the moment, he hadn't noticed the sharp increase in its perpetual ache. It had been only days since he'd worsened it throwing himself from his bed—nowhere near enough for it to heal.

A noise turned his head.

The vampire was coming down the hall, head bent over something in his hand. He looked up abruptly, and, on seeing Jared, stuffed what he held into a pocket of his coat.

"Well, well," he murmured, his expression smoothing into a smile. "All alone. We're keeping to the rules of engagement, are we?"

"You keep your word, I'll keep mine."

"Not quite heroic, but fair enough." He sauntered closer.

Jared backed up. "Your...leg seems better."

The vampire leered at him. "Your side doesn't."

"It's just a scratch."

Keen's eyes lingered on his blotted shirt. Jared cast a nervous glance at the vampire's coat, with its deep pockets.

Did he bring weapons?

Keen followed his gaze and gave a wry smile.

"Ah, yes. Since it did turn out to be prudent last time"—he started to take off the coat—"though you shan't fare as well to-night."

Jared watched uneasily while he took off his jacket as well and folded both garments deftly, then surveyed the grimy floorboards before tucking the clothes onto a decaying window ledge.

"Quite a selection, this hospital of yours. Agreeable atmosphere. Do you know," he continued, turning back, "hospitals used to be spaces offering travellers a bed for the night? Hospitable places, you understand." He grinned. "I'm certain we can find you a place to sleep...for a very long time."

Jared raised the Seal. "Forget it. My hospital's got wards."

"And mine a lack of patients," the vampire hissed, retreating as his pallor deepened. When he reached the door where Jared had first seen movement, he paused, and his expression cooled. "Ah, but this particular institution has seen a lot of inmates over the years, though it isn't very olde... As I recall it...would have first seen service shortly before the Civil War. Before that, this was all farmland." He scuffed his shoe in the dust. "Cornfields, and the men who lived and died by them." He looked vacant a moment.

"Cornfields? Not like...where there was a massacre? Shit, that was near here, wasn't it?"

The vampire rounded on him. "You've heard about that?"

"No fucking way. It was you?"

He scowled. "I take no responsibility for such wanton behaviour. I assay to keep out of the papers."

"But it was actually vampires?"

"One vampire." He ducked his chin to his chest. "Such a demon...as is not to be trifled with."

"Another vampire...and y'know this guy?"

"Well...there...aren't an especial lot of us. We take rather a lot of feeding."

"Then why would a vampire drown a cornfield in blood?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Good question. He wasn't quite himself at the time. It's for the best you'll never meet him."

"That story was a fucking tragedy. You got some fucked up friends."

The vampire bit his lip. "I never said he was a friend. But no need to worry about a another such bloodbath, I'm afraid. That sort of excess isn't feasible these days—speaking of bloodshed..."

He advanced, and Jared raised the Seal, forcing him back.

"Oh come now. I do have other people to stalk and kill, you know."

Jared shot a glance past the vampire's shoulder. He'd been cut off again. Where he needed to go—where his plan required—was beyond the door behind the monster. He stepped forward, sending out a wave from the Seal. Scowling furiously, Keen retreated a few paces, stopping under the harsh glare of one of the work lights.

"Ah...I meant to ask earlier—how the Devil did you get lights in here?"

Jared moved for the doorway. "It was getting dark, and it came down to the wire."

"Did it indeed?"

Jared reached the door and stopped cold as a chill passed through him. His heart shrank—he wrapped his arms around his chest. The vampire looked up, bent his knees, and sprang upward, catching the string of bulbs in both hands and rending the wire asunder.

Down the length of the hallway, all lights flickered out. The amber impressions of the filaments burned for a moment, and then the darkness was absolute.

Jared stood frozen.

"What's the trouble?" said a voice in the black. "Can't see in the dark?"