All Chapters of Leesa's Advent: Chapter 561 - Chapter 570

From far back in the shadows, I watched Rave enter Leesa’s dorm. Step one of my plan had been accomplished: Leesa had successfully gotten a message to the volkaane. For a moment, I wondered how she had managed it, but I brushed the thought aside. How she had reached him was unimportant—what counted was that she had, and that he had come.I wished I could get near enough to the dorm to hear Rave’s reaction when Leesa told him I needed to talk to him, but getting that close meant he would detect my presence. I didn’t want to risk doing anything that might spook him, not when I needed his help so badly. I needed to let him come out to me. Leesa would tell him I was waiting nearby—if Rave was willing to talk to me, he would come outside to find me.A few minutes later, he did just that. Rave and Leesa stepped out of the front entrance onto the walkway.I watched as Rave carefully scanned the night, seeking some trace of my presence with

We were moving through the tree-lined hills above a large reservoir when Rave motioned our party to a halt. I crossed over to join him. The look on his face told me he was puzzled about whatever he was sensing. As I had warned, there was something strange about the renegade vampires.“They are perhaps two hundred yards ahead of us,” he told me. “Moving slowly east to west on a path that will intersect our own.”I nodded, happy to have located our quarry so soon.“Good,” I said. “As agreed, my comrades and I will move ahead, projecting as much of our power as we can without being obvious about it. Hopefully, doing so will mask your presence. I think Jarubu’s arrogance will work in our favor as well. He will be anxious to end what we started last time, and I intend to give him the chance.” I started to head back to my companions, but then stopped and turned back to Rave. “See that you remember your part,

The club was packed. Scores of young pleasure hunters milled about in the dimness, proudly peacocking trendy fashions, the bolder among them aggressively trolling for action, the less confident hoping a connection would come to them. The crowd was thickest in front of the bar, where customers fueled their courage with drinks whipped up with impossible quickness by a quartet of black clad bartenders. Out on the parquet dance floor, limber bodies gyrated to the rhythms of a driving hip-hop beat. A swirling kaleidoscope of colored lights danced among them, changing and distorting the colors and shapes of the revelers with staccato swiftness.Pete Weber ignored the dancers, focusing his attention instead on the stunning blonde threading her way through the throng by the bar. Quite a package, he thought approvingly—long hair cascading down her back, generous breasts that stretched the fabric of her red silk blouse, long slender legs lengthened further by a pair of black stilettos. Her body

Conner motioned to the young blond waitress, indicating he wanted a draft beer. Sloane raised two fingers to show he wanted the same.Conner decided there was no point in delaying things. He nodded at the thin beige folder in front of Sloane. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”“The body was discovered early Wednesday behind a market over in Hollywood,” Sloane explained, without consulting the file. “She was naked. We ID’ed her from her purse, which her killer conveniently left nearby. Christy DeMars, with a capital M, age twenty-four. The address on her driver’s license was three years old—we’re still trying to trace her to find next of kin. You know this town; hardly anyone sticks with their given names. No cash or credit cards in her wallet, but the killer left a gold bracelet behind.”“Good-looking?” Conner asked.Sloane grunted. “At my age, they’re all good-looking, but see for yourself.” He reached for the folder.Conner’s hand shot forward. He slammed his palm down on the cover of th

Conner leaned back in his padded leather chair and propped his feet up on the polished walnut desk that dominated his office. He stifled a yawn. Out until almost midnight the night before, he’d downed six or seven beers while watching television in some dimly lit bar. He’d paced his drinking too well to get drunk, but the comforting buzz was as close as he’d been in a long time. Despite arriving late at his office, he had finished what little work he had to do by noon. Since returning from a tasteless lunch, he’d just been killing time.For the first few months, his job as Director of Security had kept him busy. He threw himself into his work, spending twelve and fourteen-hour days studying and reworking most of the company’s security systems and procedures. The distraction had been a welcome balm. But as his new systems were implemented and perfected, there became less and less for him to actually do, and he was becoming increasingly restless. Especially on days like this. His though