He trudged up the stairs to Nathan and Carrie’s apartment, shaking his head. The last place he’d stayed for any length of time was Chicago. Blues and booze until the wee hours of the morning. Nothing could beat it. But he couldn’t stay there for long. There were too many memories of Marcus. Too much pain.

Now, he wished he could be there. He wished he could be in Zimbabwe. Anywhere but here.

He didn’t doubt for a minute Carrie’s story. Nathan probably was possessed. But while she was full of hope and determination, all Max could muster was a lesser level of bone-weary despair.

Demonic possession of a vampire wasn’t something that could be cured without drastic measures. Those measures usually involved the sharp end of a wooden stake. Though it was hard to imagine actually killing Nathan, Max knew it would be far better for him to die than be miraculously cured and have to face the death he’d visited on innocent people.

Max dropped his bag at the end of the couch out of habit. The last time he’d stayed in the apartment had been the time he’d helped Nathan and Carrie kill Cyrus. She was a piece of work, running off to face him again after all he’d done to her. Max wasn’t sure if, given the same circumstances, he could have managed it.

In the kitchen, he looked guiltily through the refrigerator. No matter how many times someone told him to make himself at home, he always felt as if he was snooping. He grabbed a bag of blood and poured it into the teakettle, praying Carrie hadn’t tampered with the contents for one of her experiments.

The hiss of the burner reminded him how quiet it was in the empty apartment, and he went to the stereo. Glancing over the rows of CDs, he found it easy to tell which were Nathan’s and which belonged to Carrie. Nathan was all about mellow, moody classic rock. He had a decent selection of Zeppelin and some Floyd. Carrie had a small but respectable jazz collection and some pop albums of questionable taste.

Like oil and water. Max chuckled to himself as he slid a Led Zeppelin album into the CD player. The machine cycled, then the opening notes of “Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You” wafted from the speakers.