Blood seeped into the hardwood floor of Thomas's apartment. He stared down at his corpse with a sense of detached interest. The dark blood clashed with his bright red hair. He really needed to lay off the drugs and stick to good ol' fashioned booze. Or stop flaunting the fact that he didn't want for money.

Too late now. One way or another, he kept getting into trouble.

The man who shot him ran through him and out the door, everything small and of value neatly packed into a pillow case. Everything that wasn't squirreled away in the walls, at least.

Thomas wandered over to the window and sighed to himself as his murderer jumped into a car driven by a young woman he recognized. Picking up random girls who were a bit too interested in him was proving bad for his health.

If he knew where his sire was, he'd pay him a visit while he was still incorporeal. Push over some books, flicker some lights. A good little haunting to spice things up in that dull little life.

He would have to settle for the next best thing. He was fairly certain Renaud was still a town or two away. And after her Special Little Boy had unceremoniously dropped in last week, she deserved a broken vase more than his own sire. The threats he had received from her when she had stopped by to give a courtesy warning of her new territory around twenty years ago to everyone in a hundred-mile radius also needed a proper response.

Thomas glanced back at his body and hoped no one had called 911. He wanted enough time to track down and properly haunt Renaud before ending up in a morgue.

He turned his attention eastward and concentrated. Dizziness overtook him as a cloying tug in his core pulled at his being. His surroundings wavered and solidified into a busy intersection.

Stone and brick buildings loomed overhead, strings of garland and lights wrapped around streetlamps and trees. Storefronts were decorated with Christmas trees and snowmen. Cars lazily drove along, hunting for an open space as people scurried across the street between them.

Regret for not looking at a map or even something resembling an address creeped over Thomas. Haunting was supposed to be fun and easy.