23 Hours: A Vengeful Vampire Tale by David Wellington

By David Wellington

In the following 23 hours, there'll be no reprieve,
no mercy, and no day off for strong behavior.

When vampire hunter Laura Caxton is locked up in a maximum-security felony, the cop-turned-con reveals herself surrounded via numerous murderers and death-row inmates with not anything to lose . . . and many time to kill.

Caxton’s regularly been in a position to watch her personal back–even whilst it’s opposed to a cell-block wall–but quickly she learns that an excellent higher risk has slithered at the back of the bars to hitch her. Justinia Malvern, the world’s oldest dwelling vampire, has taken up place of dwelling, and her energy grows through the instant as she raids the inmate inhabitants like an open bar with an all-you-can-drink offer of unpolluted blood. The artful previous vampire is familiar with simply tips on how to pull Caxton’s strings, too, and she's issued an ultimatum that Laura can’t refuse.

Now Laura has simply 23 hours to struggle her method via a gauntlet of vampires, cons, and killers . . . 23 hours to make one final, determined try out at preserving the area from Justinia’s evil.

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Now the storm could do whatever it wanted. And from the sound of it, it wanted to do a lot. "I'm back inside, Trevor! " I called triumphantly, pulling the kitchen door closed behind me. " I picked up the cat and plunked myself down on the sofa with him in my lap. You probably don't care what shows I watched, and even if you did, I'm not sure I'd be able to tell you. Because after a few minutes I stopped paying attention to the television and started paying attention to the weather. And what cliched weather it was right out of ghost story.

The receptionist looked startled. " "No, I mean after you unhook the people who give blood. " receptionist's face cleared. " Jack asked politely. "Oh, I'm afraid not. " 56 Ann Hodgman "Oh. " As Jack and I walked away he added under his breath, "Thanks for telling us where it is. " "Oh, there's nothing much to see," I parroted. "Just a bunch of blood, that's all. Much too bor- — ing for " 'Just a bunch of blood' is exactly cent wants," Jack interrupted. what Vin- "Now, come on, Meg. " Suddenly that gave me an idea.

Whatever had run under the picnic table was probably a possum. Or a racoon. " Trevor's frightened still . me . little voice floated from his bedroom window. " I shouted up as My brightly as Babysitter Has Fangs could. "I'm just putting the porch! I up on Of course it had been a some stuff possum. Of course it had. my jaw resolutely, stomped out onto the lawn, and dragged the lawn furniture piece by piece onto the porch. There. Now the storm could do whatever it wanted. And from the sound of it, it wanted to do a lot.

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