Joe Pitt s life sucks. He hasn t had a case or a job in God knows how long, and his stashes are running on empty. What stashes? The only ones that count to a guy like Joe: blood and money. The money he uses to buy blood; the blood he drinks. Hey, it s that or your neck, buddy.
The only way for him to lay his hands on both is to take a gig with the local Vampyre Clan. See, something new is on the streets, a new high, a high so strong it can send a Vampyre spazzing through Joe s local watering hole. Till Joe sends him through a plate-glass window, that is. It won t be long now before he s slapping stoolies, getting sapped, and being taken for a ride above 110th Street. Someone s pulling Joe s strings, and he s gonna cut them when he finds them the strings and the hands that hold them.
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