As I slowly opened my eyes and my vision swam into focus, I found myself staring at a Scott Rohlfs painting that hung on my bedroom wall. I was lying on my bed, still fully dressed and wondering how the hell I wasn't dead. My clothing was caked in blood, some of it from the girl, but mostly my own. Even though I was a little stiff, for the most part I was healed from my injuries, but I had a headache that felt like a metal spike being hammered into my skull. I sat up with a groan, my thirst almost painful in its urgency. Considering how much blood I'd consumed I shouldn't be feeling that insistent nag already, but I probably did leave most of it on the floor at William's club.

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