When I exited the store, I spotted the agent almost immediately. He was kind of obvious, just hanging around across the street, leaning against a black Honda as if he had nowhere else to be.

At night.

In the middle of winter.

During Christmas shopping.

Do I have to really spell it out for you here?

I had spotted him on the way in, but it had just been a casual scan of the area, mainly to see if there were any of the usual customers on the way in. There had been no red flags in my head, just me casually wondering if he had just bought something, or if he was going to be coming in soon. It was when he started walking down the street in the same direction that I was walking that I clued in to the fact that someone was following me.

I texted Claude.

Me: I think someone is following me.

A second later, the phone vibrated as a message came in. A notification popped up from Ronnie. What the fuck?

Ronnie: Human or vampire?

That gave me a bit of a surprise since I had been expecting Claude to respond. It also reminded me that I still had to have a serious chat with Ronnie. I thought about pushing for answers right then, but decided to leave it for later. I typed a response instead.

Me: How the fuck am I supposed to know?

Ronnie: Well don't you guys have some kind of vampire radar or something? That's a thing right?

Me: It is definitely not a thing! I usually have to see their eyes or something. I thought about it for a second and continued typing. The agents are usually wearing sunglasses, but so are most of the vampires I know.

Ronnie: It's night. If he's wearing sunglasses you got your answer. Duh!

I stuck my tongue out at the phone and risked what I thought was a very discreet glance behind me.

Me: No sunglasses. Definitely following me.

Ronnie: Might be RCMP. They're doing some kind of joint operation with the Vampire Federali to nail you guys.

True fact about the Royal Canadian Mounted Police: they have more in common with vampires than you might think. Don't believe me?

If you're American or anyone outside of Canada, most of what you know about the Mounties or the RCMP comes from movies, where they are painted as affable, clueless dimwits. Just like vampires, but without the affable or clueless dimwit part. It's the whole movie connection again and really should tell you everything you need to know.

The red and black uniform you may think of while trying so hard not to think about Buckingham Palace guards, but now you are and that's all you can think about? Yeah: that's the dress uniform, or at least the uniform of the mounted units, just with flat hats, not those big bear fur monstrosities. This should remind you about vampires, because of the whole "evening dress/18th Century clothes" myth.

There's also this misconception that to escape them, all you have to do is cross the border into the US and you're free and clear. Kinda-sorta similar to vampires not being able to cross running water or go into place uninvited, but I might be reaching just a little.

Let me clear up those little pieces of math for you: those guys are anything but affable when they're on the job. They're a fucking elite force of nature, Canada's Federal Enforcement Agency and they are highly trained and are know to always get their man. Period. This should terrify you (if you're a criminal) for many reasons. They aren't easy to spot since they often work undercover, most of them won't cut you a break, since if they're coming after you, "ya dun fucked up" and they will get you. If you cross the border and flip them off, don't think they will let s little thing like a "border" or local jurisdiction get in their way. They have International fucking authority.

Anyway, my point here is simple: you do not want the RCMP coming after you.

"Fuck, fuck fuuuuuuuuuk!" I muttered to myself. Then started typing again.

Me: should I be worried? Cuz I'm really fucking worried right now.

Ronnie: Claude says just be cool. They're trying to nail Louise. You're just a small fish, so don't freak out or do anything stupid.

Me: thanks for the vote of confidence.

I put the phone away and tried to be as casual as possible, but all of a sudden, just walking felt incredibly awkward to me, like it was the first time I was doing it. I was trying to walk like I had no worries in the world, which was hard enough to do on a pavement that was already wet with dirty chunks of slush, but now seemed impossible with someone following me.

I caught his reflection in a window across the street as I came to the crosswalk, and sure enough it was the same guy, just being casual as shit as if he just happened to be walking down this street. Here's the thing about the middle of winter though: you're not hanging around outside, you always have someplace to get to.

I headed south, still trying to play it cool, wondering just what the hell I was going to do with my night now that it had been completely turned upside down. I couldn't go to work and there was a guy following me.

I stopped right then, mere feet from the entrance to the subway.

What the fuck was I doing? I was a goddamn vampire.

I turned to face the agent and he kept walking toward me, pulling out a phone now and pretending to be looking at it. Maybe he actually was looking at it: I really didn't know, nor did I care. This man was following me and I intended to do something about it.

He glanced up as he was about to pass me, his eyes trying to look right through me as if he wasn't interested in me at all, the strange black man standing still on the sidewalk waiting for him. I almost doubted myself, almost didn't follow through with it, but his eyes hesitated just a second, and I knew—

I glammered him.

As soon as our eye made contact, I felt my mind reach out to his and there it was, that recognition, that fear, but most of all, that connection. It had been so easy...

"Why are you following me?" I asked. His lips moved in sync with mine forming the words without saying them. It had to be the freakiest thing I have ever experienced.

He smiled as if we were the oldest of friends. "Hey Bobby! Sorry about that, but it's the job, you know? We're supposed to keep an eye on you—"

"We? There's more of you?"

Again with the lip movement. I tried hard not to let it freak out, but damn it was freaky as shit.

"Oh totally. I'm the guy you're supposed to spot. My buddy Ralph is on stealth duty and you're never going to spot him. In fact, he's yelling in my ear right now. You wanna say hi?"

"Get rid of out your earpiece," I said. The agent obediently took out his earpiece and dropped it on the ground.

A woman in her forties gave us an annoyed look as she navigated past us, making it clear in her indignation that we were taking up the sidewalk right in front of the subway entrance and really shouldn't be so inconsiderate. I almost apologized out of pure reflex, but that would have required looking away from Agent Whatever-his-name-was.

(CraighisnameisCraig)

I considered trying to spot his buddy Ralph, but what he had said was true, that was a futile endeavour. I thought of something else.

"If I told you to go and punch your buddy Ralph in the dick, would you do it?"

Agent Craig nodded and grinned gleefully as if that was the best idea he had heard all year.

"Totally. He's a dickhole anyway. You want me to punch him real hard, or just a love tap."

"Really hard. Make him feel it."

"You got it!"

I watched as Agent Craig turned and walked back down the street from where he had come. After about ten feet, he stopped and put a hand to his head. He looked back and just stared at me, seemingly disoriented, before turning and walking away quickly.

I just stood there, this empty feeling coming over me, my heart pounding in my chest at a hundred miles per hour. I could feel saliva rushing into my mouth like it does just before I was about to vomit my guts up, but that was wrong—

I turned, sure I was about to spew, but the feeling rapidly passed and I just blinked a couple of time, trying to catch my breath. Fucking hell, that had been intense. There was a feeling of guilt and disgust that I had actively glammered Agent Craig, and it was something I had never done before. If what Beatrice had said was true, it had always been accidental, just a brief touch to get my way, not actual contact. Even during the throes of passion with whatever woman I had seduced that night, it had been different, just a part of the act of sex and quickly forgotten. This had been more personal somehow.

All of that went out of my mind in an instant.

Coming up the steps towards me was a face I hadn't seen in a while and as usual, it wore the expression reserved especially for me, which bordered something between hate and utter hate.

"Oh hi Jaime," I said.

##### AUTHOR'S NOTE####

My editor and I were having a discussion earlier today about what I would have liked to have done better at the start of the book, especially now that things are underway.  I came up with a brief list, two of which were: a) Introduce Harry and the Gentlemen earlier to really establish their presence in light of what is coming up; b) Introduce Jaime and re-establish contact with her (which is now a pressing issue).  This means that I have a take a major step backward and write one scene and one chapter earlier in the book.  Sorry about this hopping around, but this is what happens to the first draft of a novel!