It was very early in the morning.
Dawn had barely broken over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold. Ezra was close. He could feel it via the link, that flickering connection to his dead spy's lingering essence. So close now that it hummed inside him like a taut wire.
As he drove forward into a town, he slowed the vehicle to read a green sign with peeling paint. "Crestwood," he read aloud, his voice dripping with disdain. "What a stupid name." His fingers drummed against the leather steering wheel. "Humans are such stupid creatures, I can't believe I was once a human."
He rubbed the steering wheel of the car, feeling the strange texture beneath his ancient fingertips. Vampires were not really fond of cars; they believed they were faster by nature, so what was the use
