This was a good break. Better than they could have expected or hoped for. William and Michael followed the two hotshot police dicks from the station house in Brentwood. They stayed a reasonable distance back in their van. The brothers didn’t particularly care if they lost them. They knew which hotel they were staying at. They knew how to find them.
They even knew their names.
Kyle Craig, FBI. A DIE from Quantico. A’big case’man. One of the Bureau’s best.
Alex Cross, Washington PD. Forensic psychologist to the stars.  There was a saying that William wanted to whisper in their ears: If you hunt for the vampire, the vampire will hunt for you.  That was the truth, but it also sounded too much like a rule.  William fucking hated rules. Rules made you predictable, less of an individual. Rules made you less free, less authentic, less yourself. And in the end, rules could get you caught.
William touched down lightly, tentatively, on the van’s brake pedal. Maybe they shouldn’t hunt the two cops down, then kill them like dogs, he was thinking. Maybe they had better things to do while they were in LA.
There was a special place here where he and Michael often went.
It was called the Church of the Vampire, and it was for those who were’searching for the Dragon within’. It actually was a church: vast, high-ceilinged rooms rilled with funky old Victorian furniture, elaborate golden candelabras, human skulls and other bones, tapestries that portrayed stories of famous old blood seekers............