Mordecai Ralston hated the smell of vampires. Each and every one he despised. There was an earthy, pungent smell that constantly surrounded them. It mixed in with a scant hint of blood and something akin to the aroma of dead rot, making spending any time in their company almost unbearable to those with, at the very least, an above average sense of smell. Being in their midst put him in an immediate bad mood, and when he was in a bad mood, things died. The only saving grace, at the moment, was the simple fact that he was being led through a whorehouse filled with pretty smelling women. The overwhelming scent of overused and very cheap perfume definitely helped to douse the stench of any nearby bloodsucker. Not entirely gone, there is still a light touch of their filth in the air. The little worm that sprung him from prison had made it clear he was to show up at this address, on this specific date and time, or his contract of freedom would be revoked. He would then be sent back to prison and executed in front of Queen and country. Ralston never expected to be standing in the middle of a whorehouse during midday London. It was lunchtime for Christ’s sake! Yet, here he stood, waiting with beautiful, and some not so beautiful, women as they paraded around him like he was the last hunk of bread at a hobo camp. …show more content…
One of the older and less attractive women sauntered her way over to him and placed herself in his immediate path. She provocatively glided her finger over his hand and