Viva Las Vegas

The pounding of her heavy boots rang off of the marble barricade as Cadence Findley sprinted down the promenade, leaping between ornate columns every few feet, careful with each jump to situate herself so that the landing hit on the narrow top of the only barrier between her and a nice fall to concrete several stories below. The Vampires in front of her were not being quite as cautious, but they were being smart; by sprinting away from her up here and not on the walkway itself, they were preventing her from firing her Glock. After a missed shot had splintered the ferro of a gondola in the canal, she was leery of taking out any more Vegas landmarks.

“Just because they’re running up there doesn’t mean you have to,” Elliott Sanderson said in her head. He was serving as lookout, perched in the clocktower at the end of this passage. Cadence was hopeful the trio of bloodsuckers in front of her would run right past him, and maybe he could get the sho