The explosion was deafening, the ground shaking beneath their feet. They were far enough away to
avoid the worst of the blast, only a few pieces of debris landing close by. Snod quickly stomped one
out that was still on fire, his ears ringing miserably as he tried to shout, “Now!”
Grabbing Snod, the vampire took off. Snod cringed as the world went flying by them, his stomach
dropping uncomfortably. Moving at such high speed was extremely unnerving.
Ugh, and nauseating.
He closed his eyes, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t puke, gasping as he felt himself dropped down
on something soft.
A couch.
Snod looked around, startled to find himself in a very nice loft. The furniture was all antique, the
colors warm and comfortable, and there were hundreds of old books crowding every inch of space on
the walls except one spot where a large portrait of Benjamin Franklin was hung.
Other than the small television set, Snod didn’t immediately see anything that seemed to be from this
century.
The vampire was sitting next to him, a first aid kit between them, his bright eyes watching him
intently.
“Where are we?” Snod demanded, certain he was probably talking too loud because he couldn’t hear
himself.
“My home,” the vampire replied.
“This... this is where you live?”
“What did you expect? Spider webs and black velvet?” the vampire scoffed. He made a face, adding
grumpily, “I didn’t know where else to bring you.”
Snod didn’t reply, collapsing back on the sofa with a groan.
“If you want,” the vampire offered hesitantly, “you can drink from me. It would heal you.”
“No,” Snod growled. “I’m not doing that again.”
The vampire’s lip curled up.
“It was a mistake.”
“Maybe rescuing your ungrateful ass was a mistake,” the vampire snapped.
“How did you know?” Snod lifted up his head. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Because of the blood that you’re so eager to turn your nose up at,” the vampire replied. “We’re
