Just because they’re not making kills doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to die.

The streets we take on the way to the boardwalk are tired—accustomed to being used only as a means to get to another spot. I walk a little slower because of it, counting the cracks in the sidewalk just so the street knows I’m paying attention to it.

I don’t look up until Roman comes to a stop in front of me at a crosswalk. “What do you think?” he asks.

I told him I’d never been to a boardwalk before.

I steady myself, suddenly afraid to see it. Nothing’s ever as good as you think it will be. I’m pretty sure the longer you wait to enjoy something, the less likely it is to meet your expectations. If all you feed yourself is a steady diet of dreams, how can reality actually compete?

But I tell myself to just look. I’m not on vacation. I don’t need a big dramatic moment.

It still takes my breath away.

Everything is color. A sea-blue ramp leads up to the entrance. In front of it, kids climb on giant stone beach balls painted bold colors while parents snap their pictures. A turquoise building sits just to the right where three golden seahorses watch the crowds from its domed top of woven metal like they’re gloating escaping the net below them. Palm trees rise sky-high in the background.

It sucks the city clean around it, leaching all the color into this one glorious spot.

The light changes, and we cross the street with a family of squealing kids. I remind myself that I’m too old to squeal too. But when we pass through the entryway, a smile almost breaks my face.

I catch myself though. I reach inside the black jacket Roman gave me and feel the outline of the two stakes hidden on one side to remind myself what I’m here for.

Roman leads us farther in, and the cacophony of sound almost swallows me—kids laughing, people screaming from some strange mix of terror and excitement as they free-fall on a ride, a shrill buzzer from a game, the click-click-click of the roller coaster climbing to its drop, a hip-hop song in the background that I can’t quite make out, and behind it all the faint, peaceful rush of water.

The ocean. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the real thing—something that’s not an illusion—except while practicing with Roman, and then it was so dark I couldn’t see it at all, just hear it. Right now, the sun is setting. Darkness is still a few minutes away, and we’re not as likely to find a vampire in the daylight, so I stop focusing on following Roman and turn to fully take it all in.