With an hour left before the sun set, he knew Mal wouldn’t be around, which was good. That was one vampire Creek didn’t want to run into. Mal would probably have some words about the curfew for him.Odd that Chrysabelle had yet to revoke Creek’s gate privileges. From what he vaguely remembered about the meeting in the mayor’s office, he was sure they’d be gone and she’d have put his name on a list of people never to be allowed on her property, but the guy at the guard shack had checked his ID and waved him through.The door opened as he walked up. Doc, the leopard-shifter, greeted him.“If you’ve come to offer your condolences, that’s fine, but don’t plan on staying long. She’s not up for a lot of visitors right now.”He stopped on the front porch. “Condolences? For what?”Doc cocked one brow and stared him down. “You live under a rock?”Not a rock, but he had been pretty tied up with Yahla lately. “Something like that. What happened?”“Mal’s dead.”For a brief, hard moment, the air left Creek’s lungs.
