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You describe your narrow escape from the mindless Nosferatu.

"I'm impressed you're still alive, little neonate," Lettow says. "The Nosferatu you fought was old and powerful in his time, the childe of Reremouse himself." Then his tone hardens and slices through the air like a razor. "Dove, your sire is now your responsibility. Find and destroy him. You have seven nights."

Watching the video seemed to have taken all the fight out of the Nosferatu. She just nods.

You have too many questions. The most obvious is, why did Prince Lettow let you watch the video? Princes are secretive and paranoid creatures, and even in these nights, when the true elders have sunken into torpor or fled to the Old World, even a "young" Prince like Lettow has survived centuries of betrayal and revolution. Princes don't tolerate risk. That means either Lettow or his situation here are unstable, or—worse—he already knows a great deal about you and has accounted for you.

"Cvjo, I have more work for you," the Prince of Tucson says. "You will remain here tonight. My man, Alexander, will provide you with shelter, sustenance, and suitable clothing. And hose you down, obviously. I apologize if he treats you like a horse, but he misses horses."

Alexander is a small and sallow man with a gleaming bald head. He wears an oversize gray suit, like a refugee from some twentieth-century war. He does not smile, which is for the best, since you see that his teeth are gray.

"Follow me," Alexander says. His accent is thick and his breath is acidic, like bile.

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