The scent was unmistakable: decay and old blood, the smell of corpses that refused to stay buried.
And Cassandra could sniff death in the air.
She knew what this was.
It was the rotting smell of Vampires, filling her nostrils.
Vampires always smelled like death to werewolves. It was an instinctive warning, nature's way of telling them they were facing their mortal enemies.
"Simon," Cassandra said sharply, her voice cutting through the tense silence.
"Stay in the car. Keep your head down. Lock the doors. Do not come out no matter what you see or hear." She ordered.
Simon's eyes widened slightly at the order. To his human mind, those men blocking their way seemed like hired assassins and he had planned on reversing and running away.
"Ms. Drayke, those people are..." He tried to suggest but Cassandra didn't have time to allow him to finish.
"That's an order." She maintained sharply.
