“Early Thursday morning. I snuck out while you were sleeping. Why?”

Bennett picked up the duffel bag as she pulled her mobile from her pocket. “Forget the stuff in the fridge,” Bennett said, putting the phone to her ear. “We’ll stop on the way.”

***

It wasn’t until a member of Max’s staff came to him in 1920 when the idea of using long-term facilities to augment the vampire’s blood supply was put into play. The man was Max’s cook, and his daughter was dying a painful death, and one night he pleaded for Max to mercifully take the girl’s life to end her agony. Upon visiting the overcrowded hospice house, Max stood alongside his servant, watching as the girl struggled with every breath, and when they left an hour later, she was no longer struggling.

Believing he’d finally secured a way to always keep the covens replete with blood, Max spread the word to the other originals. In no time at all, they contracted to have facilities built to provide care for the infirmed, incurable, and insane. Constructed in the same vicinity as the vampires' homes, they added a few mortal hospital staff to their payroll, and all was well. Drugs kept their victims quiet, and unless the doctors deemed their diseases terminal, the patients woke to live another day.

For nearly twenty years, those facilities cared for more than the patients they housed, but like most good things, something better always comes along. In 1932, the first blood storage facility was founded in Leningrad, and in 1937, the first hospital blood bank was established in Chicago. Within a few years, blood banks were cropping up everywhere, and while the vampires’ long-term hospitals were no longer in high demand, they continued to provide one thing blood banks could not. Omega.

Just after midnight, in boots designed for silence, Bennett and Ruby crept down the corridor. The tang of disinfectant hung in the air, yet as they passed some rooms, flowery fragrances found their way to them. Equipment inside whirred and beeped, signaling life still existed beyond the doors, but as far as walking and talking life, there was none. The hub was eerily empty, coffee cups and half-eaten sandwiches confirming people had left in a hurry, and down halls dim and white, were mops protruding from buckets, awaiting the return of the cleaning staff.

Finally, they ran out of hallway and stopped in front of the last two rooms on the left.

“What are we doing here?” Ruby said, keeping her voice low as she looked around.

“We’re here because we need to be at our best tonight, and our best means Omega,” Bennett said, removing the charts from the pockets next to each door.

Ruby’s eyes widened, but she said not a word.

Bennett flipped open both charts, ensuring the information matched with what she’d been told on the phone.