Vampires still get hangovers

Larten’s head was throbbing when he woke. He groaned, tried to get out of
bed, but collapsed and lay on the floor in a huddle, shivering like a wet dog.

“I’m dying,” he whimpered.

“You’re lucky,” Wester croaked. “I think I’m already dead.”
Larten looked up and spotted Wester sitting in a corner, holding a
bucket, his face as white as flour.

“Have we been poisoned?” Larten asked.

“Hangovers,” Wester whispered.

“I thought vampires did not get hangovers,” Larten said.

“You thought wrong,” Wester replied, then thrust his head over the
bucket.

“My fine, sensible, hard-drinking assistants!” Seba bellowed, opening
the door and stepping into the room. He was grinning wickedly.

“Not so loud,” Larten begged, jamming his hands over his ears.

“What was that?” Seba roared.
Larten scrunched his eyes shut and took deep breaths, trying hard not to
be sick. “I’m never drinking again,” he vowed.

***

The Saga of Larten Crepsley: Birth of a Killer, Chapter 23