By Amanda Ashley
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Additional info for After Sundown
Country music blared from a loudspeaker. Half a dozen couples were line dancing. He went to the bar and ordered a drink, which he held but didn't taste. He was studying the crowd when a slender young woman with wavy brown hair and large green eyes sidled up to him. Hands on hips, she looked him up and down. "You don't look like a cowboy," she remarked with a come-hither smile. She was a pretty thing. She wore a tight-fitting cowboy shirt, fringed blue-jean shorts, and a pair of white boots. "Perhaps because I am not," he replied with a faint smile.
She had gone to the Roskovitch Carnival because they claimed to have the body of "Count Alexi Kristov, the oldest vampire in existence," She had not believed in such things, of course, had never believed in ghosts and goblins or the like. Even now, she wasn't sure what had drawn her to the carnival that night. Surely she had never dreamed that she would see not one but two vampires that evening. She had met Edward because of Grigori. Both men had been hunting Alexi Kristov—Grigori during the night, Edward during the day.
A fitting irony, he thought, that he should spend eternity as the very creature he had spent his life destroying. He grinned ruefully. In point of fact, he didn't exist anymore—at least not as anything the world would recognize. Perhaps the natural world—free-flowing water, the glowing moon—mocked his peculiar existence now. It was all like a bad dream, a nightmare from which he would never awake. But did one feel that throbbing hunger in the middle of a nightmare? he wondered with grim humor, thinking it was just the sort of sardonic musing he had come to expect from Chiavari.
After Sundown by Amanda Ashley