The werewolf drifted through the crowd of writhing dancers at the club, Gothic Noire and scowled. Although the moon had yet to rise over the horizon, he could already feel its power calling to his soul right through the brick walls of the club. I’ll have to find someone to fuck soon, or I’ll spend the next month locked in my wolf shape. In the smoked mirrors that lined the club’s walls, his eyes glowed a brilliant predato...

The Alchemist was getting ready to close his tattoo shop when the bells on his door chimed. He turned and there she was, a shattered angel. She stood paused, frozen in his doorway, neither in nor out, motionless on the threshold, undecided. The setting sun bled over the rooftops from across the street, staining her hair and cheek with the illusion of mortal wounds. The empty hunger in the crushed blue of her eyes screamed...