Daylight - Book 1 (No Death for the Wicked) Read Online Free PDF

eventually we approach a ticket station.  Pan already has her card in hand, but I don't have one.  “Hey, go to that second window and buy the gold Metro card. It's only twenty bucks and it's what I use,” She waves her gold-toned placard card which looks very similar to a normal ID, but with no picture.
    Ten minutes later with my own gold card, Pan and I commute deeper into the Subway. Thousands of humans and vamps merge and mix while they come and go . I wrangle my way through people keeping a good pace with Pandora. My eyes dart across the landing noting the majority of vamps are dressed more stylish, and the money shows. Pinstripe suits, top hats, and wingtip shoes states an awful lot about this city, even the structure down here has me practically dragging my jaw along the over-polished floor.
    Only two tones favor the walls, red and black. The extremely high curved ceilings really makes you feel like you are traveling to the bowels of the earth. Standing beside a set of escalators, a couple draws my attention. There is a distinct uniqueness to the way these vampires dress and the humans just wander among them without a clue.  It amazes me as I observe the vampire couple as they view the humans in a way I have seen humans watch their favorite pets. The superior nature of this is a little overwhelming.  I always thought that we, vampires, were some type of accident that needed to be hidden. Well, you know how I use to live.  But here, these vamps walk along like royalty, every single one of them.  They seem so gussied up as if this is some type of time warp and we are back in Victorian England, getting ready to visit the palace and have tea with the Queen.
    “Don't stare,” Pan hisses at me as she veers around a man and his briefcase.
    “I wasn't,” I sass back. “Besides, once you've seen one royal Goth-looking vamp, you've seen them all.”
    “They're the Elite.”
    “The what?”
    “Never mind, we're almost at the platform.” Her tone is quiet but her noisy gait resonates through the tunnels. We come up to another tall glass wall but just on the other side is a l ine of turnstiles. Swiping the Metro pass which changes the blood red light to eminent green, I push through to the other side. The high-class platform is wide with colored glass tile work and arches that hold several brass pricey chandeliers. The train has not arrived yet so it gives me time to absorb all this, not sure if I should be shocked, awed, or down right nervous. I am definitely in a new league. Mother dearest and I never traveled here or any other major city. She 'liked the small town ease of things' she use to say, but I truly believe there is something more than meets the eye on that tight-lipped topic. 
    As we wait I calmly tilt my head back, catching a glimpse of the elite couple , wondering what it is that makes them appear more politic, is it their Bram Stoker’s Dracula theme they have going on, or the way they gaze intrusively over everyone. The man shifts his roving glare to me. I narrow my eyes at him. He smirks and slants his silver tipped cane in my direction. I snap my head forward as a chill runs down my spine, my hands shake and I'm a little startled that he caught me staring. Freaked out that he pointed at me, but I suck in a breath and realize what he really was pointing at the train .
    The secret subway is incomparable to anything I have ever seen . On top of that the entire damn train is white. The inside is white, including the flooring to the leather seats. We take our seats and as everyone else boards I ask Pan, “How long will it take us to get to your place?”
    “Twenty minutes.” 
    I nod and squint at an odd plaque through the windows, I scoot up trying to make out the words. It is hung on the track-side wall, a commemoration for the InterVoynich Transit Company. The stonework is insanely done and an image of a gruesome gargoyle mounts above it. 
    “Remember it,” Pandora's hushed cautionary voice