Joe Pitt’s life sucks. He hasn’t had a case or a job in God knows how long and his stashes are running on empty. What stashes? The only ones that count to a guy like Joe: blood and money. The money he uses to buy blood; the blood he drinks. Hey, buddy, it’s that or your neck–you want to choose? The only way to lay his hands on both is to take a gig with the local Vampyre Clan. See, something new is on the streets, a new high, a high so strong it can send a Vampyre spazzing through Joe’s local watering hole. Till Joe sends him through a plate-glass window, that is.
So it’s time for Joe to gut up and swallow that pride and follow the leads wherever they go. It won’t be long before he’s slapping stoolies, getting sapped, and being taken for a ride above 110th Street. Someone’s pulling Joe’s strings, and now he’s riding the A train, looking to find who it is. He’s gonna cut them when he finds them–the strings and the hands that hold them.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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ain't anathema barber beer bitch blood boys CHARLIE HUSTON cigarette Clans Coalition comes cool couch Count couple Digga dogs donlt door drink drop enforcer Evie eyes face ﬁgure ﬁll ﬁnd ﬁnger ﬁrst ﬁsh floor fridge front fucking girl give glass gonna grab hand hear hell Hispanic holds Hood Hurley infected inside jacket Kaletra keep kill kind look Lydia machine pistol MetroCard mouth muthafucka neck nods Papa Phil picks Pigtails pint Pitt points Poncho Predo pretty pulls rhinos Shades shakes his head shit shoulder smell smiles smoke snaps Society someone Spaz spazzing stairs stay stop stuff sure syringe talk tell Terry There's there’s thing Timberlands Tom Nolan Tom's ton tons macoute train trying turf Uh-huh Vampyre Van Helsing Vandewater VVhat Vyrus waiting walk watch Yeah Zippo