There's Danger Everywhere

It had only been dark in San Juan for thirty minutes, but downtown was already pulsating. The air was charged with carnal drumbeats and sweat, engulfing both locals and tourists in the trance-like ebb and flow of Puerto Rican night life.

Ren Winter fought to remain detached from the virile scene as she scanned the crowd from the roof of the building, which vibrated with the deep bass of hip-hop-infused salsa, yet even she sensed the life of Old Town, feeding off of the warm, already imbibed bodies below. However, she was snapped back into the reality of her mission by the unwelcome sound of Mason Alderick's voice from beside her.

"Do you see them?" he asked, his eyes locked on the clubhoppers, flowing up and down Forteleza Street as if blood through a vein.

With an annoyed side glance, Ren responded with a curt, "No," quickly returning her attention to the festive throng.

This was proving more time consuming than she had initially predicted. Then again, the pair for which they were searching had at least a two-day head start, thanks to Mason. Had he not shown up in the Keys, she might have been enjoying an evening of debauchery amongst the denizens instead of perching above them like a gargoyle. Despite her irritation at the current situation, Ren reminded herself that Mason was a newly instated Scholar, with his only experience in demon hunting was a small collection of prayer sessions in his Southern Baptist church, shortly after completing seminary. Still, they could have at least trained him to be subtle, she thought, peeking over at the young man, who was still staring intently at the street as if he knew what he was looking for.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw them. The woman was glowing and alive, but the man seemed dim, even under the neon lights of the sign at the entrance of Milk, the nightclub for which they were paying admission.

"Cheeky bastards," she whispered. She had to hurry. They would be feasting soon.