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ominous black gates stood towering like menacing wraiths above the street. The Blackmoore house rested up on the hill behind the gates. Many tall, old trees blocked the view so you’d be hard pressed to see the house unless you walked by the gate and found just enough of a crack between limbs and trunks. Felicity had seen it though, just part of it when she’d driven by before.
    When Felicity had applied for the job she had done it quickly and without much thought. That was because she knew she’d never land a job with the Blackmoores. They hired world-renowned artists for even the simplest of things. They would not hire some nobody vampire girl from the city. Still, she’d been desperate and a little hopeful that just maybe she’d get the job.
    Usually when she went to a job interview she was as prepared as possible, sometimes she even spent days learning about a specific client and then scouted locations, created designs, and came up with ideas to dazzle them. True, many of those times she’d forgotten her briefcase or portfolio when she’d gone to the interview, but she’d learned her lesson.  
    Whether it was the economy or the fact that times had changed from the early days where throwing a gala and impressing everyone with your wealth and status was all the rage, but now people didn’t do that. Too bad, she missed those times, the elegance, the jewelry, lavish gowns.
    A soft sigh escaped her.
    Sometimes she’d read in V-Society about the Blackmoore’s throwing such parties. Felicity bit her lip as she bounced in her seat with excitement. If she could land this job and they liked her, she could have a permanent new income. They would return to her because they’d be so in love with her design choices. She could almost see it now.
    That was it, she decided then. She would just have to become their permanent event planner no matter what it took. This was just the kind of job she’d been searching for and it’d just fallen in her lap—nearly.
    A thought struck her. The head of the Blackmoore family and president of the vampire and were council had recently died from a rare blood disease, Arromunia. That’s why they needed her. Talks of his death still hadn’t stopped among vamp society. The disease didn’t occur often. The last time a vampire died of it was more than fifty years ago and the time before that spanned another seventy-five years. Very rare indeed.
    The disease was the only sickness her kind was susceptible to aside from pure silver, the hot rays of sunlight, and decapitation. No one knew how to get the strange sickness, and it was so rare scientists had not been able to study it in the past. It simply came, chose a victim, and then slowly sucked the life from them like a poison. No amount of blood transfusions could help. The immortal body, after a slow and debilitating trial, would die withering like a body with too much skin clinging to it, eyes sunken, and cheeks gaunt.
    That meant Mr. Blackmoore’s eldest son would be in charge—Dominic the one who’d interview her.        
    A chill raced over her body. Felicity shook it off and took the road that would hopefully change her life forever. If she could only get a gig like this, her name would be famous among society. Everyone would know the name Felicity Shaw.
    She could finally donate her crappy thrift store furniture and buy something real that was just hers. Something she actually liked because it was beautiful and comfortable not because it was cheap.
    The Blackmoore’s estate was the only house street on the block. It wasn’t like they owned the street, more like the many acres of land surrounding the house, all of which was gated in by the towering black gate over six feet tall. The black, spiked tops didn’t look sharp but they served as a warning—do not enter.
    A small call box waited at the front of the drive. It reminded her of the drive-thru microphones that mortals used when they ordered fast food.
    She rolled