Chapter 95

• When his rage finally subsided, the vampire pressed himself against the only intact wall and sat, legs spread. His designer clothes were reduced to ragged remnants, his once meticulously styled hair now looked like a homeless man’s. He felt utterly hollow.
• From a miraculously intact pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one and took a deep drag. At this point, his lungs might as well have been dead—so why even worry about health?
• He sat there in silence for several long minutes, slowly inhaling smoke in a quiet room where the only sound was the faint, distant beating of hearts.