But now the Bronze was infamous for having blood on tap. Human blood, every type. The building would be crawling with vampires. Setting foot inside was just asking to get bit.

Anya put her hands on her hips. “No, it’s the vamp club. Why do you think I told you to shower and wear turtlenecks?”

Jonathan glanced down at his and Andrew’s matching outfits. The black turtlenecks were from the Halloween the Trio had all accidentally worn the same Steve Jobs costume. Andrew was even wearing the lensless wire-frame glasses. He insisted that they completed the ensemble.

“We need information about a vampire slayer,” Anya continued, at an exasperated clip. “Obviously, we need to talk to vampires.”

Andrew tugged on the collar of his turtleneck, gazing at the front entrance with undisguised interest. “Come on, Jonathan. It could be cool inside.”

“Of course you think so,” Jonathan hissed. “You’d love to get turned into a bloodsucker.”

Andrew’s obsession with vampires had started after his brother Tucker got fangs. Undead Tucker cut contact with his living relatives—Andrew and their aunt Sandy. Shortly after, Aunt Sandy sold their house and left, following the mass exodus of nonevil suburbanites from Demondale. Jonathan’s own parents left when Mayor Wilkins had won his reelection. Living in a town with an immortal sorcerer mayor had been bad enough.

“Watch the vampire slurs. They have excellent hearing,” Anya said. “Plus, it’s just plain rude. Now, are you coming or not?”

“Do you know what happens to humans who hang around with vampires?” Jonathan asked. He hugged his NO PARKING signpost a little tighter, his heart hammering against the steel. “They get eaten! Murdered! Killed to death!”

“Hey,” Andrew said, reaching out and lightly setting a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Sometimes they get turned into the undead.”

Jonathan tore out of Andrew’s grasp. “I don’t want to be undead!”

Anya twisted her arms in a shrug. “Vampires don’t eat vengeance demons. They say our blood is unpleasantly astringent. Like clove oil.”

“Was that supposed to be comforting?” Jonathan asked. He wasn’t sure he liked Andrew’s coworker. Even the manager with the aggressive mop would have been a better companion.

“You didn’t wish for comfort,” Anya said. “If you want your friend back, we have to go in there and find out about the slayer. Just act like you belong and lead with money. Everyone likes money. Vampires take bribes like anybody else. Did you get more cash?”

“Yes,” Jonathan said. He patted Warren’s messenger bag, bloated with freshly printed bills. Back at the lair, the counterfeiting machine had churned out bribe money while they changed out of their blood-soaked clothes. Jonathan prayed that none of the vampires would notice the code hidden inside the serial numbers. Warren had loved signing his crimes.

“Great,” Anya said, her face brightening in a wide smile. “Hopefully the promise of cash will distract them from your human veal bodies.”

Jonathan reluctantly let go of the NO PARKING sign, shuffling behind Anya and Andrew toward the Bronze’s single illuminated sign. Seated on a tall stool, the bouncer was a thick-necked demon with skin the color and texture of pumice.