A half address on a narrow street in the French Quarter is the only clue that a shop dedicated entirely to vampires exists behind an unmarked door.
The interior is darker than the street outside, the shelves hold fang-shaped jewelry and hand-pressed candles that smell like grave dirt and honey, and the staff knows more about vampire folklore than most literature professors.
The space is small enough that three customers feel like a crowd, which means every visit turns into a conversation about things that go bump in the night and the people who have built an entire mythology around them…