Those stories you hear? The ones about things that only come out at night? Things that feed on blood, feed on us? Got news for you: theyre true. Only its not like the movies or old man Stokers storybook. Its worse. Especially if you happen to be one of them . Just ask Joe Pitt. Theres a shambler on the loose. Some fool who got himself infected with a flesh-eating bacte Those stories you hear? The ones about things that only come out at night? Things that feed on blood, feed on us? Got news for you: theyre true. Only its not like the movies or old man Stokers storybook. Its worse. Especially if you happen to be one of them . Just ask Joe Pitt. Theres a shambler on the loose. Some fool who got himself infected with a flesh-eating bacteria is lurching around, trying to munch on folks brains. Joe hates shamblers, but hes still the one who has to deal with them. Thats just the kind of life he has. Except afterlife might be better word. From the Battery to the Bronx, and from river to river, Manhattan is crawling with Vampyres. Joe is one of them, and hes not happy about it. Yeah, he gets to be stronger and faster than you, and hes tough as nails and hard to kill. But spending his nights trying to score a pint of blood to feed the Vyrus thats eating at him isnt his idea of a good time. And Joe doesnt make it any easier on himself. Going his own way, refusing to ally with the Clans that run the undead underside of Manhattan -- it aint easy. Its worse once he gets mixed up with the Coalition -- the citys most powerful Clan -- and finds himself searching for a poor little rich girl whos gone missing in Alphabet City. Now the Coalition and the girls high-society parents are breathing down his neck, anarchist Vampyres are pushing him around, and a crazy Vampyre cult is stalking him. No time to complain, though. Got to find that girl and kill that shambler before the whip comes down . . . and before the sun comes up.