By P. N. Elrod
Approximately tortured to loss of life by way of a brand new York gangster, Vampire P.I. Jack Fleming gave the punk his simply cakes. yet now the mob bosses wish revenge.
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Extra resources for A Song in the Dark (Vampire Files, No. 11)
SONG IN THE DARK 35 In the ofﬁce the radio volume went up. Loud. Good. We’d have privacy from the boys listening in. Hopefully, they would stay out. All my worst scars were on the inside, but that wouldn’t count with this bunch. After a minute, Kroun came to the door and stepped through. He’d produced or borrowed a gun from someone and held it ready in one hand. Talk about being cautious. He waited, head tilted slightly, and holding very, very still. He didn’t need a gun to ﬁll the place with himself.
In contrast to the streamliner-inspired couch and chairs were several wall paintings of soothing landscapes. The vivid greens, blues, and browns were like suddenly discovering a park in the middle of a concrete sea. There were more guys here, but they moved, clearing my view to Gordy’s massive desk. Behind it, sitting easily in the huge chair, was the man I assumed to be Whitey Kroun. He was lean and long-boned and even at a distance I felt a powerful presence about him. I tried not to let Gordy’s summing up of “scary” inﬂuence me, but it was hard going.
Weak-sounding, though. No breath for it. Couldn’t let him get away with even that much. I dragged him up again and pulled his gun from my belt. He favored a revolver. I clapped it against the side of his skull to get his attention, then shoved the muzzle into his nose. “I will kill you, Hoyle. ” To drive the point home, I threw him on the ground and quick-ﬁred close to his head, using up the remaining three bullets. The gun didn’t seem to make any sound at all, but for Hoyle it must have been a hell of a roar.
A Song in the Dark (Vampire Files, No. 11) by P. N. Elrod