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puckered lips.
    Leopold instantly stopped in mid-whiffle. He had to watch these melodramatic outbursts, but he had become so emotional as of late. It seemed like he was always either on the verge of tears or hysterical laughter. Lewis had said it was a natural reaction after coming to grips with the truth about oneself.
    Leopold removed a pastel violet handkerchief from his jacket pocket. He gently dabbed the blood-red tears from his cheek. Yes, he must rein in these all-too-human emotions. It would not help for his enemies to learn the condition he was in. Only Lewis knew, and for now that was quite enough.
    He plopped into the red velvet chair set beside the empty fireplace. Smoothing his pink frock coat, he let his mind drift to the reason he had come to Seattle. The Mother was waking. He, and the rest of the unholy court, had felt the shivers of her stirring through the veil.
    While his role as her consort was now out of the question, Leopold still sought to ingratiate himself into her good graces. If he could somehow accomplish the feat, he would still have a foothold in the new regime he would soon bring about. How nice it would be to sit at the Mother's right hand when she again came to power. Perhaps she could get him into those exclusive shops that had long been denied him, like the Pier One. Damn them and their wicker delights.
    But that time had yet come. The Mother was still far from waking. Only the slight tremors of foreboding announced her coming. The Bleeding Moon must rise before she reached her full strength and there was the problem of her sacrifice to be solved.
    All the scrolls said the same thing: a virgin's newly-spilt blood must be presented to the Mother at the exact time of her awakening, or the waiting would continue for another millennia. Not just any blood would do. Oh no, the texts were quite clear on what type to use.
    The question was—where was he going to find the blood of a thirty-five year old virgin who was pure of heart and not someone just too ugly to get laid? If the virgin hiccup wasn't enough, the sacrifice had to be a knight of the old order, a slayer of monsters. The impossibility of the task sent a migraine flowing to the pit of Leopold's brain. Lewis would know what to do. The young vampire had got him this far.
    Leopold looked up at the dusty clock hanging limply on the faded wall. It was time to go. He could feel the hunger beginning to take root in his stomach. The stale want was driving him mad. Rising, he took one last look at the Seattle skyline. The newborn city called to him. He must dance among its varied people. The nightlife called, and he wanted to boogie.
* * * *
    Breathred emptied the change from his pocket. $1.76 was all he had to show for his night's work. Who knew one old lady could eat so much Chinese takeout? The number of egg rolls she ate alone, boggled the mind.
    At least he was able to slink pass the hawk-like gaze of his stepmother without her noticing him. He couldn't take her snickering. It was bad enough having to live directly beneath her and his father. He was thirty-five years old and she was almost half his age. His father was twice her age plus eighteen years. Eeuw.
    If the age difference wasn't bad enough, the noises the two of them created at all hours of the day and night were most unseemly. After six months of being forced to overhear them he wasn't entirely sure the sounds were altogether legal, either. Until he found out for sure, he intended to stay in the basement. He was just grateful they had moved into the upstairs bedroom, and there was no way he'd ever eat off the kitchen counter again.
    Right now, all he cared about was a hot shower and enough Gold Bond Medicated to sooth his burning parts. He definitely had to rethink the leather. If nothing else, a body suit made of natural fibers underneath might help. He'd have to think on it some more.
    "So, did you bag the big bad vampire?” a voice called mockingly as he reached the bottom of