then paced back and forth impatiently until eight o’clock when I knew somebody would be at his new vampire club. It didn’t open for another hour, but some of the staff would already be there setting things up.

It had only been one week since Haven opened. I didn’t like the place as much as Midnight Eclipse.

Instead of being hidden behind the facade of a tanning salon, the entrance to Haven was a plain-looking door located along an abandoned alleyway. No bells, no whistles. Just an ugly, three-hundred-pound vampire bouncer named Angel (unfortunately, no relation or even a passing resemblance to David

Boreanaz) who sized up vamps who came a-knocking.

Typically the entrance was also monitored by Barry Jordan, the manager of the club. He was extremely short and usually dressed in a tuxedo as well as a sour and annoyed expression. The guy hated me with a passion. Can’t say I was all that thrilled with him either. Unfortunately he recently married my best friend

Amy, who seemed to like him just fine for some odd reason.

Barry had a really annoying habit of calling Thierry “the master,” which was very Renfield, and kind of creepy. And he seemed to have a big problem with those who did not refer to him that way. Namely,me

Barry wasn’t at Haven tonight. It must have been his night off.

The club was small, intimate, with dark walls, ornately carved cherry wood tables and chairs. A splash of color came from the blue and teal ceramic tiled floor, which had a swirling pattern like a whirlpool.

Actually it looked more like a flushing toilet, if you ask me. Modern chandeliers dripped from the ceiling,

filling the club with a soft, flickering light that filled me with anything but ease. I was way too stressed out by the time I got there.