THE NICE THING about New Orleans was that even when the city was going to shit, you could still find a decent party and some good music. In that respect, it reminded Xander of London.
He probably should have felt a twinge of guilt at ditching Tré in favor of trawling the clubs for someone high enough or drunk enough to give him a fleeting secondhand buzz via a modest blood donation. However, Xander was not a particularly good or nice person, and hadn’t been even when he was human.