I could feel a volcano of bile and beer rumbling in my stomach.

“Um, uh, give me a few minutes. I gotta throw up,” I said, and then followed with, “Did you see me last night?”

“No. I was at the reservoir.”

I started to ask why, but thought better of it and slammed the phone back into the cradle.

I bolted for the bathroom like an all-star sprinter. I almost crossed the finish line too, but just as I ran through the bathroom doorway, I projectile-vomited, sending a sickening (and strangely perfect) arcing fountain through the air. I must’ve looked like one of those water spouts people put in their yards to tell the world they’re rich and have bad taste.

Funny thing was, most of the puke actually landed in the toilet. Years of throwing up perfects one’s aim, I guess.

Half-dead, I climbed into the shower and let hot water pummel my aching head until I got my eyes most of the way open. I felt like hell, but I’d felt a lot worse. At least I wasn’t suffering from any major injuries for once. Things had been pretty quiet lately. There had been a vampire skulking around Silverlake a couple weeks back, but I tracked him down and killed him in the same night. Jack-hole.

Most of my free time I spent with Sabrina Lynch. I guess you could say the two of us were going out. She runs a little rag about unexplained phenomena called Speculator Magazine. She used to trash me all the time, calling me some kind of fraud, but now that we’re sleeping together she’s backed off.

She was off somewhere for the past week, thank god. I recall her mentioning some crop circles or a Chupacabra sighting in Mexico she wanted to cover for the magazine. She did everything for the magazine pretty much herself. It was damned impressive.

Just as I finished dressing, there was a knock. I walked over and pulled open the door. It was Mo’Lock. In his arms he had something bundled up in a blanket.

The bundle was moving.

I was in no mood for surprises or moving bundles.

“Come on in,” I said in my best fake-happy voice. “What’s that you got there?”

“That’s why I came. I don’t know what it is.” The ghoul lumbered past me into the office.

I didn’t pay much attention. I didn’t even look at the bundle. I was still asleep. “I’m making coffee. You want some?”

“No,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was staring down at the pool of vomit on the floor. “What’s this?”

“Chicken and dumplings. Help yourself.” I got my coffee; actually I just grabbed the pot, and sat at my desk. “So, let’s see what you got.”