Sunday Snippet: Nightlife by Matthew Quinn Martin

Posted January 12, 2014 by Una in Sunday Snippet Tags: , ,


 About the Book

Nightlife Nightlife
Author:  Matthew Quinn Martin
Publisher:   Pocket Books
Released:  October 21, 2013


Beth padded over quietly and took the place against the rail next to him.  She pulled a pint bottle wrapped in a brown paper sleeve from her coat pocket.  Hoping it was his brand, or that he wasn’t picky, she set it within easy reach.

The man eyed the bottle suspiciously.  “I said, what you want?”

“I want to know why you’re spray-painting those messages.”

The man grabbed the bottle, twisted off the plastic cap, and took a deep draught.  “It’s a warning.”

“A warning?  A warning of what?”

“Can’t you read?”  Another swig.  “The Night Angel.”

“The Night Angel?”

“Yep.  Question answered.”  He quickly pocketed the bottle and began ambling off.  “Thanks for the hooch, lady.”


“Ain’t waiting on you,” he called over his shoulder as he began to dissolve into the moonlit mist.  “Go to the diner you want to get waited on.  Find you a waiter.”

Beth rushed to catch up.  Together they went deeper into the shadows of Fort Red Rock.  “But–”

“Butnothing!”  He whipped around so fast that they almost collided.  “You come down here.  Down to the fort, talking about the Night Angel.  Bad mojo.  You hear me?”

“I hear you.  My friend, she’s missing.”  Beth yanked a flyer from her pocket and thrust it to him.  “You took one of these down.  You kept it.  I saw you do it.”

“Maybe I did.”  He plucked the flyer from her hand, holding it almost tenderly as he looked at it.  “What’s that to you?”

“I just want to know if you know anything.”

“I know this.”  His voice was flat and funereal.  “If the Night Angel came for your friend, she’s not missing.  She’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

His shoulders went slack.  He tugged out the bottle and took a slug.  “You don’t want to know,” he answered, wiping his lips before taking another swig.

“Where is this Night Angel?  What is it?”

He quickly looked to either side before drawing closer.  “The Night Angel comes for you… you’ll wish you’d listened when you had the chance.  You hear me?  She’ll mesmerize you.  Make you see what you want to see.”

“But aren’t you the one warning everyone?  Isn’t that why you’ve been spray-painting it all over town?”

“Yes.  I am.  And I’m warning you to stay away.  You understand me?”  He stood firm.  “It is not a prophet’s place to fight demons,” he said, his voice pulpit-worthy.  “A prophet is to keep faith.  To speak truth.  And to anoint the deliverer.  To herald the One Chosen.  And you ain’t the One.  So leave me alone.”

“Please.  You have to tell me what you know.”

“I ain’t got to tell you shit,” he spat.  “I already told the One, and he ain’t listened.  Why should I tell you?”

“Because …” Panic gripped Beth as she peered behind her.  The street had vanished in the fog, even the street lamps swallowed by the haze.  “Because I have to find her.  Tell me about the Night Angel.  Please.”

He shook his head.  “I got to spell it out for you?”  He pitched his voice low, almost to a whisper.  “We’re talking about vampires.”


“Shhhh!” He clutched her by the thick lapels of her pea coat.  “You want her to hear?  You want her to come get you?”

Beth felt a hand wrap tightly around her upper arm.  It was followed by a voice close in her ear.  “Who come get who?”