Blood Red

Before Sean had a chance to shoot again, Mark Davidson came running out of Deanna’s room. He saw Leticia, saw her intended victim, and took a flying leap over the desk. He caught Leticia by the shoulders and shoved her forward, crashing into a rolling cart filled with medications. Bottles and vials went flying everywhere.

Sean waited, expecting Davidson to go flying just as he and Bobby had, but there was only silence.

Nothing.

He strode to the desk and looked over. Mark was straddling the girl, staring down at her and talking soothingly. “Someone get her something quickly—a major league tranquilizer,” Sean said.

The head nurse, who had appeared almost catatonic with fear, suddenly sprang to life. She fumbled on the floor, searching through the wrapped needles and the different vials. In a second she was at Mark’s side. Leticia began to thrash again, forcing her back, but Mark seized the hypodermic from her, and quickly inserted the needle. In a second, Leticia’s wild and frantic eyes closed, and she went limp.

Mark stayed as he was for several long seconds. Then he eased back.

Sean strode over to him. “You all right?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly hospital personnel were everywhere.

“I can’t believe it,” the head nurse said, stricken. “It’s Leticia. She’s one of our finest nurses.”

“She went insane,” one of the interns said.

“Like a rabid dog!” another claimed.

“Let’s get her into a bed,” an intern said.

“You’re going to find that she needs a transfusions, and she needs it fast,” Mark said.

“Are you a doctor, young man?” the head nurse demanded.

Mark looked up at her. “I know what she needs,” he said quietly. The nurse frowned as Mark rose and lifted Leticia into his arms. “A room?” he said.

The head nurse just nodded. The young intern who had first suggested that she needed a bed followed Mark into an empty room and spoke quickly to the nurse. “Pull up her chart. Her blood type must be on record.”

The nurse stared at him.

“Do it. Now.”

She jumped, shooting a disapproving glance at Mark, and hurried back out to the hall.

Sean stood in the door, watching, then felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Bobby standing behind him.

“Lauren is here, in Deanna’s room. I’ll be with her.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

Sean looked at Mark, who was standing next to the bed where Leticia now lay, completely out. “Will the transfusion do it?” he asked quietly.

Mark shook his head, his uncertainty clear.

The intern, who was checking Leticia’s pulse, said, “I think she’ll be all right. She must have been under the influence of some heavy duty drug. We’ll do a tox screen and find out what the hell is going on. She’s one of our best nurses. I can’t imagine Leticia…she never even smoked pot, sings in her church choir…”

A commotion in the hallway began to grow into a din. Sean stepped out to see what was going on and found patients milling around curiously and the staff trying to get them calmed down and back into their rooms.

“Folks, it’s all over. Everything’s all right,” Sean said.

A middle-aged woman in a hospital gown that left her more than a little exposed, suddenly pointed and started screaming.

Sean turned toward the gurney with the post op patient. The man was still unconscious, but

Leticia had apparently gotten her teeth into the blood bag, because blood was sprayed all over the man and the wall.

“It’s all right. It’s all right, Mrs. Ruben,” a nurse assured her.

An orderly quickly went over to the gurney. “I need help here,” he called.

“People, please,” Sean said. “Get back into your rooms. Let the hospital staff get things cleaned up.”

“Someone stabbed him!” Mrs. Ruben screamed.

“He wasn’t stabbed,” Sean said patiently. “It’s just a spill.”

“A spill like murder! Blood red murder!” the woman shouted.

“Murder!” someone else repeated.

Sean groaned. “Stop it!” he snapped, using all his authority. “There’s been no murder,” he said, all the while knowing the words might well be a lie. “Get back to your rooms.”

To his relief, the patients began to obey.

With Mark in with Leticia Lockwood and the staff suddenly finding both courage and their senses, Sean strode across to Deanna’s room.

Lauren was perched by her friend’s side.

Bobby was standing, hands on his hips, looking like a crouched tiger ready to spring in any direction.

Sean walked over to the bed. “She all right?” he asked Lauren.

“No change,” she told him.

As he nodded, Mark Davidson returned to the room. “We have to get Deanna out of here,” he said flatly. “Sean, there’s a Judy Lockwood across the hall with Leticia. She wants to talk to you.”

Sean walked to the door, pausing on the way to ask Mark, “And what the hell do I tell her?”

Mark took a deep breath. “I have absolutely no idea,” he admitted, then smiled. “Hey, you’re the cop.” Then he turned serious again. “But we have to get Deanna out of this place.”

Sean, wincing, strode across the hall.

What the hell was he going to say to the woman? Your niece, your decent, sweet, God-fearing niece, was possessed by a vampire?

He just hoped he wouldn’t end up having to stake her.

Lauren wasn’t quite sure how Mark managed to convince Deanna’s doctors that she would be better cared for her at home. At first the doctor in charge—called back in from a day’s fishing excursion, wearing a cap with a bouncing bass—was adamant that she wasn’t ready to be released, not while she was still in a coma.

Lauren swore she could care for her, but the doctor kept shaking his head.

Then Mark began to talk. He didn’t say anything she hadn’t said herself, but somehow he was more convincing. Maybe it was a guy thing.. She usually hated that. But at the moment she couldn’t be too upset, because she was getting what she wanted.

The release papers were signed, and arrangements made for a registered nurse to come by three times a day. An ambulance was hired to transport her from the hospital to the house on Bourbon Street.

Lauren rode in the ambulance with Deanna. Sean, Bobby and Mark followed by car. The paramedics helped settle Deanna in, then left.

Heidi was still upset and on edge, but she was behaving normally again, and she was ready to be a little mother hen, clucking over Deanna. She assured Stacey and Bobby that she would be taking over Deanna’s care and would make sure they didn’t impose on anyone, and that she would protect her friend against any evil.

Lauren noticed that Mark seemed to find that final claim, especially, doubtful. He had a hushed conversation with Stacey in the hallway, and Lauren suspected Stacey was assuring him that she had gotten Heidi to understand the danger facing them.

“I really think Heidi is going to be okay,” she whispered to Mark, as he came back into the room. She kept her voice down because Heidi was close by, concentrating on making sure that Deanna’s pillow was properly plumped.

He stared at her as she spoke, seeming distant and tense.

“Really,” she said, catching his arm and leading him toward the door. “She’s herself again.”

Mark sighed, shaking his head. “And Sean told me about Judy Lockwood saying Leticia wouldn’t stay out all night or miss work. Don’t you see? He gets to the people he uses. He literally gets into their blood.”

Sean Canady came up the stairs, staring at Mark. “We’ve got another corpse,” he said.

“Headless?” Lauren asked, swallowing.

“No. And found in a courtyard, not the Mississippi.” He turned back to Mark. “They’re having a hard time discerning how she originally met her demise. She’s pretty well decayed. Apparently she’s been dead for months.”

“A fraternity prank?” Lauren asked, hoping against hope. But then she saw the way Sean and Mark were looking at one another.

“Vampires only explode and turn to dust if they’ve been dead long enough that their body would have decayed already. Apparently we have a few fairly fresh kills on our hands.”

“I think Lauren’s idea of a fraternity prank makes sense. At least, that’s the story I’d go with for the press,” Mark told Sean.

“Hell,” Sean groaned.

“We should go, don’t you think?” Mark said to him.

“To the morgue?” Sean asked.

“To the hospital. We’ve got to see if we can talk to Leticia.” He turned to Lauren. “Stay here. And please, Don’t leave this house.”

“I won’t. Deanna and Heidi are both here,” she said.

“And Bobby and Stacey,” Sean told her. “And I’m going to tell Big Jim that the band will have to do without him for a few nights. Call me if anything, anything at all, happens.” “Absolutely,” she swore.

She nodded, turned and took a seat on the bed next to Deanna, as if to show both men that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Sun streamed in from the balcony. The air-conditioner hummed.

The only odd thing at all was the fact that Stacey had strung cloves of garlic all the way around the windows and the French doors that led to the balcony.

The room smelled like a pizzeria. But there were far worse scents, Lauren had discovered.

Like blood.

Sean was quite a helpful guy, Mark noted dryly to himself. The cop was his passage into the places he needed to go.

Like Leticia’s room, where Sean had stationed an officer by the door while Deanna’s release was being handled.

When they entered, Mark saw that Leticia was shackled to the bed, and Judy Lockwood was still there, seated by her niece’s side in the big hospital chair that turned into a bed. She was hummed as she knitted a sweater.

Mark noticed that Judy had brought her own kind of defense. The window sill was littered with a bit of dirt, which he knew was some kind of mojo Judy thought might work to keep her niece safe. There was also a huge cross on the bedside stand.

“How’s she doing?” Sean asked.

“Sleeping like a baby,” Judy told him. She didn’t miss a stitch as she answered, then smiled at Sean. “Thank you for listening to me.”

Sean nodded. “This is a friend of mine, Ms. Lockwood. Mark Davidson. I think you met him earlier”

Judy studied him. “All right,” she said after a moment. “Are you going to help us, then, Mr. Mark?”

“I’m going to do my best. I’ll need to speak with Leticia when she wakes up. I’m hoping she can tell me something about where she’s been.”

Judy nodded. “You may take a seat, young man.”

“I’ll leave you, Mark, and get down to the mor—station,” Sean said. “Judy, feel free to call me any time.”

“I will, Lieutenant,” she said firmly, her eyes on Mark. “And I thank you again,” she added softly.

Sean left with a nod to Mark, who turned to Judy

“Ms. Lockwood, are her clothes in the closest?”

She nodded.

“May I look at them?”

She stared at him for a long time. “They say you calmed her down. The cops couldn’t hold her. No one could. You calmed her down.”

“Um…yes.”

He was startled when she reached out and grabbed him. “Is she going to be all right?” she demanded tensely.

This woman was somehow in the know, Mark thought. Maybe she didn’t even know what she understood; maybe she just had special instincts. But somehow she knew that more was going on here than it seemed.

“I sincerely hope so,” he said.

“I love this girl,” Judy said with quiet vehemence. “Understand this: I love this girl more than my own life. I love her enough to kill her if need be. Do you understand what I’m saying, young man?”

“She needs a lot of blood,” he said softly. “A lot.”

Judy leaned back, eyeing him warily. “She’s been getting that.”

“She needs to be…watched.”

“I won’t leave her side.”

He hesitated. “You have to be very careful. You have to…watch whoever comes in here.”

“I can do that,” Judy assured him.

He nodded.

“Her things are all in the closet,” Judy told him.

He thanked her.

Judy’s uniform gave him little to go on; it was splotched with blood, but he had expected that. Then he checked her shoes. The soles were thickly caked with dark muck and swamp grass.

He set the shoes back where they’d been. He was surprised that Stephan hadn’t made a clean kill of the nurse. A small miracle, he thought, then winced, thinking about the day.

About the decaying corpse that was now at the morgue.

Nefertiti.

“I’ll be praying for my girl,” Judy said, her fingers busy at her knitting once again. “I’ll be praying for her. You’ll be praying, too, won’t you, Mark?” She stared straight at him.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“You go on now,” she told him. “I’ll be here. Day and night. Come what may. You can count on me,” she said.

He smiled then walked over to the table, found paper and pen, and scribbled down his number. “If she wakes up…”

“I’ll call you.”

“Thank you.”

Mark left the hospital. As he did, he saw night was coming.

His cell phone rang. It was Sean.

“Meet me at the morgue.”

“Now?”

“It’s as good a time as any.”

“Lauren.”

Lauren jumped. She had dozed off in a chair.

She looked across the room, thinking Heidi, who was relaxing in another chair, had spoken.

Heidi stared at her.

Then they both stared at Deanna.

Lauren blinked.

This time it seemed Deanna really was conscious. Lauren and Heidi both leaped up, almost crashing into each other in their rush to reach Deanna’s side.

“Hey!” Heidi said.

“Deanna,” Lauren breathed.

“’m thirsty,” Deanna murmured.

“I’ve got it,” Heidi immediately said.

Lauren smiled and lifted Deanna’s head so Heidi could hold the glass in place. Deanna took an eager sip.

“Go slow,” Lauren warned.

Deanna nodded, drank, and sagged back against her pillow.

Her eyes closed for a minute, then flew open again.

“Jonas,” she said.

“Jonas,” Lauren repeated blankly. Then she frowned. Where was Jonas? He had stayed by Deanna’s side for so long, but today…

Deanna had been alone, all alone, while Bobby had battled with Leticia, while pure madness had broken out….

Where had Jonas been?

“He’s been with me, hasn’t he?” Deanna asked softly.

“Yes, honey, he hung around,” Heidi assured her, smoothing back her hair.

Deanna stared at Lauren. “Jonas is good,” she said firmly.

Then why the hell had he disappeared right when Deanna needed him most? Lauren wondered.

Bernie Gibbs was on night duty at the morgue. His job was to sit at the desk and deal with whatever the doctors might need help with, and sign the paperwork for whatever dear souls might depart this world in the darkness. Since the doctors never needed help at night, mainly he read books and signed for bodies when they were brought in.

He was often on night duty. Actually, he liked it, liked the silence. He’d gotten through three years at Tulane by working here. He heard about some weird stuff now and then, but it didn’t bother him any. He’d always been the kind of kid who could sit through the most gruesome horror movie. Now that he was premed, he’d already seen a hell of a lot worse anything Hollyweird could come up with.

Tonight he was in pretty good shape. He had borrowed a popular new spy thriller from the library, and it was just as engrossing as the reviews had promised. He was actually glad to be at work, where the stiffs never interrupted him just when he was at the best part of a book.

He gotten one call from Lieutenant Canady, who’d said he would be coming by. He hadn’t explained why, just told Bernie to keep an eye out for him. But that was cool. Canady was a good guy. He was hell on wheels if you were a crook, but if you were just an average Joe, schlepping along, he didn’t mind what you did with your free time. But Canady hadn’t shown yet.

There was a sudden noise—right when his spy was meeting up with his Asian nemesis. It startled him from his concentration on the book, and he cocked his head to listen.

Nothing.

He wondered what the hell the noise had been. Something must have fallen in back. He turned his attention back to his book, but he couldn’t help wondering what could have fallen?

He set his book down, swearing softly. Had a door been left open? Or did they have rats or something?

Shit.

He decided he’d better check it out.

He stood, and looked around. He didn’t have a weapon. Attendants at the morgue didn’t usually have problems with their…charges. But what if some jerk had broken in? He looked around and saw his book. “Great,” he muttered aloud. He could just see the headline. Courageous Night Attendant at Morgue Foils Thief with Spy Novel

No, the book wasn’t good enough.

There were all kinds of scalpels and saws in the autopsy rooms, but he didn’t want to take a chance of coming across an intruder before he could get to a weapon. He opened the drawer to his desk. Aha! A letter opener.

Clutching it in his hand, he stood. He looked toward the door to the street and noted that it was securely locked. He started down the hallway.

A glance into the first room showed him that everything was sterile and pristine.

And smelling…sanitized.

Like a morgue.

A place of death.

Hardly a surprise, he thought with a shrug, and he moved on.

He found nothing. At last he came to the large insulated stainless steel doors that led to the morgue’s current occupants.

He opened the door to what was essentially a giant refrigerator and looked around. Nothing. No, wait.

Something.

Shit!

There was movement on one of the gurneys. Damn it, they did have rats! Big rats, if the movement he was seeing gave any clue.

Rats—or a frat brother, trying to freak him out, he thought. He shook his head and walked to the gurney.

“Asshole,” he said, pulling back the sheet.

But no frat brother was waiting to leap up and yell “Boo!”

He’d seen the corpse earlier. It was the one that had been discovered by a woman chasing after her kid, and it was months dead and decaying. The eyes were…gone. Eaten by insects or who knew what. Most of the flesh had been rotted away, and what was left clinging to the bones looked as if it had been burned. In fact, the smell of burning flesh had hovered around the body. She—because it was a she—had scarcely been recognizable as a human being.

But now…

A sound like…like insects gnawing on flesh and bone was coming from the corpse, but that wasn’t the cause

It was flesh and bone, all right. Flesh and bone that appeared to be repairing themselves. As he stared, watching blood vessels appear, muscles take form….

Her eyes—eyes that hadn’t been there at all earlier—suddenly opened, and she stared at him.

Stared at him.

And then she smiled.

Smiled, only it wasn’t a smile, it was like a snarl, and she was baring her teeth, but they weren’t teeth at all, they were fangs. She looked like a huge asp, her horrid maw of a mouth opening, and he knew that she meant to sink those fangs into his jugular.

He screamed.

And he struck, batting at her face with his hand and trying to stab her with the letter opener. But those teeth were still coming….

Then, suddenly, he felt something heavy smash down on his head. Stars burst before his eyes, and he crashed to the floor.

He thought vaguely that he heard someone groan “Son of a bitch,” but he wasn’t sure. And then the world went quiet, as if a black curtain had fallen from the sky, and all seemed to be eternal darkness.

14

M ark was certain the morgue was empty when he arrived, but as he stood at the door of the seemingly deserted facility, it opened, and Sean Canady was standing there in the dark.

“Took you long enough,” he said, then turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Come in. Quickly.”

Mark followed, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. There were security lights, but they offered dim illumination at best.

“No night attendant?” Mark asked.

“He’s…here.”

“Oh?”

“I knocked him out,” Sean said impatiently. “I had to.”

“Really?”

“Come see.”

“I thought you wanted me down here because of that body the cops brought in today?” Mark asked with a frown.

“Yes.”

“I destroyed her today.”

“She should have been destroyed,” Sean said.

“What? If she’s coming back, we need to talk to her. We need to know where she’s been sleeping, who—”

”I’m sorry, but it’s too late now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come on back. You’ll see.”

He did see. The morgue attendant was out cold on the floor, and the corpse…

She was half-covered in flesh again, looking like a Hollywood movie prop. Her eyes were open but unseeing. Her mouth was distorted in a snarl.

Her fangs were glistening.

And she had a literal death grip on a stake that was protruding from her chest.

“You certainly did take care of her,” Mark said, looking at Canady.

“I had to. I know you were hoping she could be brought back to help us, but it’s not going to happen. And after what I saw here tonight, we’ve got to be very careful.” He indicated the morgue attendant on the floor. “She nearly had him. There seem to be some fairly new recruits in Stephan’s flock. We can’t count on dust to dust to get rid of them. If you make a kill, be damn sure you cut the head off. I’ll take care of any explanations.”

“Like Stephan, when he throws his refuse into the Mississippi,” Mark said bitterly.

“You’ve got to make sure they’re down for good,” Sean said firmly. “I have a community of the living to protect. I know you need information, but you can’t get it at any risk to others.”

Mark looked down at the fallen morgue attendant. Poor guy looked well and truly out. “How hard did you hit him?” he asked Canady.

“He’ll come to soon enough.”

“How much did he see?”

Canady shrugged. “Too much. But with the bump on his head, he won’t say anything. Who the hell would believe him?”

“She should begin to rot again quickly,” Mark said.

“I want her more than rotted,” Canady said curtly.

“If she were to come back…”

”Mark, we can’t take chances like that. She almost put paid to Bernie. I barely got to her in time.”

Mark winced. “All right. What next?” he asked Canady.

Sean handed him a bone saw. Mark nodded and got to work. Decapitation was not an easy process, he thought halfway through.

When they were done, he asked Canady, “How the hell are you going to explain this?”

“I’m not. I’m going to pray she rots again by morning.”

“What about the morgue attendant?”

“I’m going to prop him back at his desk. With any luck, he’s going to think he’s worked a few hours too many alone with the dead at night.”

“I guess you know what you’re doing.”

Canady shrugged. “It’s the best I can think of, anyway. When I leave here, I’m heading back to the hospital to check on things there. Where will you be? Back at Montresse House?”

Mark shook his head. “No. I can’t just sit around and wait. I have to find Stephan’s lair. He’s using guerilla tactics, going after different people, trying to keep us so busy and scattered that he’ll eventually succeed in getting to Lauren. I have to find him first.”

“What do you think he’ll do next?” Canady asked.

“I don’t know, but I hope to God I can find him before he does it,” Mark replied.

Deanna remained very weak, and she was also fretful, worried about Jonas.

Lauren was worried about him, too, though not, she suspected, for quite the same reason.

Stacey managed to cook up a delicious soup that Deanna was able to keep down, so at least her strength was improving, even if the danger was still out there.

But that night, with Stacey, Bobby and Big Jim around, it seemed to Lauren that the siutuation was on the upswing, at the very least.

Deanna actually made it to the shower by herself, with one of them waiting, ready to hand her a towel and support her back to the bed.

Big Jim suggested they gather in Deanna’s room for a game of Trivial Pursuit, and though she felt listless about the idea at first, Lauren was pleased to see how eagerly her friends agreed. Still, though she tried, she couldn’t get into the game herself; she felt strangely restless and unnerved. Finally she excused herself and went downstairs to brew a pot of tea.

As the tea steeped, she suddenly remembered the paper Susan had given her, which she’d forgotten in the welter of events. She raced upstairs to her own room and found it in the pocket of the jeans she had worn the day before. Eagerly, she sat down on the bed to read.

It was a newspaper article, written ten years earlier about strange events in Louisiana history.

Lauren was perplexed. The event in question dated back to 1870. A plantation owner who had survived the ravages of the “War of Northern Aggression” had been returned to his home for burial after traveling abroad to attend the wedding of his son in Kiev, where he had apparently gone berserk and used a bow and arrow to kill the bride and several of the guests.

On the day of his funeral, the house—a beautiful, graceful home on the river—had gone up in flames. The shell had remained for years. As of the article date, the ruins were still abandoned, and the property had reverted to the state.

Lauren read the article over and over again, unable to puzzle out why Susan had given it to her.

Perplexed, she refolded the sheet of paper and tossed it on the nightstand.

Mark spent over two hours just driving around.

He had been certain at first that Stephan would have chosen a place along Plantation Row for his refuge, but he had apparently been wrong, because he didn’t see anything suspicious the entire time

He headed back to the hospital, anxious to see how Leticia was doing. All seemed quiet when he reached her room.

For whatever good it might do, Sean had stationed an officer on duty outside the door. And Judith Lockwood was right where he had left her, the knitting project in her hands beginning to look more like a sweater.

He noticed there were more crosses in the room. Several of them—all wooden—lined the window frame.

“Hello, Ms. Lockwood,” he said quietly.

She looked up calmly and nodded at him. “He’s been here already, been here and gone.”

“He?” he murmured.

She returned her gaze to her knitting. “Folks can poke fun at some of the old beliefs, but you know, way back in the old days, in the jungles and deserts, folks knew. They knew about good, and they knew about evil. My girl here, she just happened into the way of evil. But she’s a good girl. And I don’t intend to lose her to any spawn of Satan. I was ready.” She smiled. “Well, I have to admit, I’m a little bit afraid to be leaving this place myself now, but I was ready. He showed up at that window. And I gave it to him good. You see that silver cross there? I blazed my light on it just as soon as I saw the golden orbs of his eyes at the glass.” She chuckled softly. “He was gone, lickety split. Yessir, I think we’re going to be fine.”

Mark walked over to Judy and took her hands. “Good for you. You’re saving her life, you know. But you’re right; you mustn’t leave here. Not at all. Not until it’s…safe.”

“Not until you’ve killed the bastard, huh?” she asked.

He nodded. “He needed Leticia because she’s a nurse, but she’s also a very beautiful young woman. You’ve kept her from him. She’s not the one he’s after, but he’ll hurt you, hurt you badly, if he can, because he doesn’t like people denying him anything. You understand, don’t you?”

She stared at him. “Oh, yes, young man. I understand. I understand much more than you imagine I do. And I won’t be leaving. Do you see stupid in this old body? I think not!”

Mark had to smile. “I do not see stupid,” he agreed.

“Get out there, then. Get out there and stop the monster that did this to my girl.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he told her, and left.

Outside, he swore. If only he knew where the hell the bastard was going to strike next.

Deanna still didn’t have much strength, though she was doing much better than Lauren would have expected. By midnight, however, she was sleeping again, apparently peacefully.

In her chair, Heidi yawned.

“You all go on to bed now,” Big Jim said, looking around the room. “I’ll take first watch. Bobby can spell me in a few hours. And Stacey is always up by six.”

“I can watch Deanna,” Lauren said. “You’re already doing enough, giving up your job to stay here with us.”

“You listen to me, Lauren. I know what I’m up against You go get some sleep. You won’t be any good if you’re overtired..”

Heidi stood. “I’m sorry, but I really am exhausted.” She grinned. “It’s very tiring, convincing your fiancé that you don’t want to sleep with the entire roster of the L. A. Rams. Big Jim, bless you. I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,. I guess I’ll get some sleep, too,” Lauren said.

“We’ll do it as Big Jim calls it,” Bobby said, rising as well, and holding out a hand to Stacey. “Come on, kid.”

They all filed out of Deanna’s room.

“Maybe I should bunk in with you,” Lauren told Heidi.

“No, thank you.”

“But—”

“Lauren, the room is protected. And I have a feeling someone will come home to you eventually. And though I think it’s great you’re getting some at last, I don’t want to be around for it,” she said, laughing.

“All right,” Lauren agreed. “I’m right next door. If you get nervous, if anything so much as goes bump in the night…”

“I’ll scream my head off so you can come save me,” Heidi swore, then gave Lauren a warm and reassuring hug. “I swear, I almost lost Barry, and there’s no way I’ll let that happen, especially now that I know what I’m up against. I’ll be ready for anything that comes my way, I promise.”

Lauren watched Heidi disappear into her room, then headed for her own.

She took a long shower, with plenty of hot water, before dressing in a soft knit nightgown and curling up in bed.

The silence of the house seemed to weigh on her, and she realized that she was listening. Waiting.

Listening for the sound of wings, fluttering in the night. Waiting in fear.

It was exactly what he wanted, she thought. He had been at the hospital. He had wanted to prove that he could go anywhere, that he could injure them when they didn’t even know they were vulnerable. And that he did want her.

Why?

Because she looked like Katie?

It was all so ridiculous.

She got up and decided to read the article Susan had given her one more time. But she still didn’t understand what the seer had been trying to tell her. It was a sad story, and it had all happened in 1870, shortly after the Civil War had torn the nation apart.

She noticed that several sources were cited at the bottom of the article. She wondered if she could find any of them on the computer, or if she would have to go to the library. It was almost two AM, and though she couldn’t sleep, she was exhausted. She decided to see what she could find in the morning.

She lay down again to try to get some sleep.

Although it seemed futile, Mark decided to try barhopping again.

Big Jim wasn’t playing, he quickly discovered. But he stayed for a beer, and listened to the remainder of the group.

He was still bothered by everything that had happened with “Nefertiti.” She had wanted him to destroy her. He was certain she hadn’t seized the child because she really intended to take his life; rather, she had wanted death and had forced his hand. But he was still frustrated, thinking that she might have known something that could have helped him.

He straightened suddenly and looked around. Nothing in the bar looked different, but something had changed.

He sipped his beer and carefully observed those around him. Three college boys were sitting at one of the high tables near the bar. There were eight people on the dance floor. They weren’t dancing as couples, just moving to the music.

At the table next to him a young woman was seated with an older man. He homed in on their conversation; it was a father and daughter. She was going to Tulane, and he was down visiting.

The bar was sparsely populated. Several people appeared to be alone. There were two attractive women in their early fifties enjoying conversation, Margaritas and the music.

A couple at the far end. The man had sandy hair, and was broad-shouldered, tall and dressed in a black tailored shirt and jeans. He looked like he might be the quarterback on his college team. The girl was pretty. She looked sweet, radiant and innocent. Also very young. She had dark eyes and long brown hair, and wore a tube top and a short plaid mini-skirt. They had their heads bowed toward one another.

Suddenly the girl laughed a little too loudly, probably the result of too much to drink.

He saw the man set money on the bar and whisper to her.

She smiled and flushed.

They started out the door together, hand in hand.

Mark followed.

There was a loud boom, like a burst of thunder.

Lauren started up, alarmed, awakened from a deep sleep.

The French doors had crashed inward. The drapes, white and billowing, were floating like ethereal clouds.

A flash of lightning brightened the darkness.

And he was there. Stephan. He was tall and impossibly forbidding. He wore a black cape that billowed behind him, dark against the white of the drapes.

“Ask me in. Ask me to come for you,” he said.

“No. I’ll never ask you in.”

“I know you read the article,” he said softly.

“What does that matter?” she demanded sharply.

“I know the fortune-teller,” he assured her.

“Susan…” she murmured, fear leaping into her heart. Susan had been terrified. She had known about Stephan.

“I haven’t hurt her—yet. But I know she gave you the article.”

“It says nothing about you,” she told him.

“You didn’t read it properly,” he said, and smiled, the gleaming gold of his eyes offering something that was almost tendern. “You want to come with me. You know you do. You know what I can offer. With me, you’ll have everything. You need to turn away from him. He is the evil one.”

“No.”

“He’s a liar, you know.”

“No.”

Then he began to laugh, that awful laughter she had first heard issuing from the crystal ball.

“I’m coming for you…. I’m here for you.”

The couple seemed to be heading for one of the large hotels on Canal Street.

At first it was easy enough to keep his distance and still keep them in sight, but the closer they got to Canal, the more difficult it was for Mark to keep track of them in the crowd without being spotted. Eventually he saw them enter the lobby of one of the hotels, and he had no choice but to follow closely. He walked to the desk and asked the clerk on duty for directions to the Square. As he pretended to listen to what the man was telling him, he watched the elevator as they entered it, glad that no one else got in withj them, and saw where it stopped. The fourth floor.

Mark pretended to head nonchalantly away, then made for the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, he reached the fourth floor hallway and swore softly. It was a big hotel and there was no indication what room they were in.

There was nothing to do but tread lightly and listen.

A television blared from one room; rock music sounded from another. He kept moving. Then he heard it again.

That too-loud laughter. At least she was still alive and apparently well. Even enjoying herself, apparently.

He found the room from which the sound had come and there paused. He heard the low hum of teasing voices. More laughter.

And then a gasp.

Followed by a scream.

Mark burst into the room.

For a moment he paused, frowning.

The guy was on the floor, the girl straddling him, pressing his arms down. For a moment Mark was about to back out of the room in embarrassment. How the hell could he have been so wrong?

Then saw that he hadn’t been wrong after all. She laughed again, and in the soft light of the room, her fangs glowed. Dripped saliva…

She stared at Mark as the man beneath her began to let out a terrified mewling sound.

Mark swore, tore across the room and tackled her, forcing her off the man on the floor. She was strong and tough. She fought hard, trying to grapple him to the ground as she had the other man, while, he tried to reach into his pocket for his weapon.

She shoved, and he crashed into the wall, but quickly recovered. She let out a screech of fury and threw herself at him.

He was dimly aware of it when the guy rose, staggered to his feet and went stumbling from the room. Then Mark looked into the gleaming, maddened eyes of his mini-skirted opponent as she started snapping at him, trying to sink her fangs into any part of his flesh that she could.

He threw her off and nearly reached the holy water in the pistol in his pocket, but she came at him again.

He ducked, but not quickly enough, and they both crashed down together. The water pistol went flying. He swore.

She was on top of him, but he gritted his teeth, flexed his muscles and threw her off. She landed on the water pistol. With a howl and a hiss, she leapt up, staring at it, then then him.

She started to laugh again. “You are no match for Stephan,” she told him. “You…with your silly weapons. He will have you. He will torment you. He will take all that you love. You think you can hurt him? You think you have hurt him? Never. He knows how to move in the world, how to feed. He knows how to take what he wants. You are nothing! Nothing at all. In the end, you will be nothing but blood. Blood, blood and more blood. There will be a spill of blood, a rain of blood. It will be just like a blood wedding,” she cackled.

“Your woman will die. And then she will live. Not like Katie. Katie is dead. Katie is blood. Just a memory of blood. But he will have her, and we who have served him will reign.”

Enough.

He made it to his feet and practically flew across the room.

He hit her with such force that they slammed against the window together and shattered it. Then they were falling…

Falling into the night, into the abyss.

No, no, no! It wasn’t happening. She had to fight it.

At last, with a jerk and gasp, Lauren managed to shake herself awake. In a raw panic, she stared around the room.

The windows were closed.

The drapes lay still.

There was no man standing inside her room.

She inhaled, exhaled, and realized she had tangled the covers in her nightmare. She was sweat slicked and clammy, and her heart was thundering.

“It was a dream,” she told herself aloud.

Just a dream.

But she remained afraid. She rose and turned on the light, then went into the bathroom and turned on the light there, before splashing her face with cold water.

She breathed deeply again, staring at her face in the mirror. She looked like a wild woman. She smoothed down her hair, washed her face a second time for good measure, and looked again. The wide-eyed panic was at last fading from her eyes.

But a sense of somehow being violated stayed with her.

She left her room and went down the hall. Heidi’s door was ajar. She peeked in. Heidi was curled beneath the covers, hugging the extra pillow. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

Lauren continued down the hallway. The door to Lauren’s room was open. Big Jim was no longer on duty, but Bobby was there, reading a gun manual.

He looked up. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey. Is everything all right?”

“Fine. Deanna woke up hungry again. She seems to be doing just fine.”

“Thank God.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Bobby asked her.

“Yes. I just can’t sleep is all.” She walked closer to Deanna. Her friend’s color was much better. She was breathing deeply, and seemed to be sleeping peacefully. No dreams were plaguing her.

“I told you. She’s fine,” Bobby said.

“I believe you,” she said, smiling as she turned and stretched. She was still tired, but there was no way in hell she was going to go back to sleep. “Hey, why don’t you go to bed? You have to go to work in the morning, I assume.”

He grinned. “Actually, I’m assigned to the house right now.”

“I can’t sleep, Bobby. You might as well get some rest.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise you, I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep.”

“All right, then. The house is protected. And if anything happens—and I do mean anything at all—just let out a good loud scream. One of us will be with you in two seconds. Okay? And don’t worry about a false alarm. It’s better to get us up for nothing than to second guess your fear and end up dead—or worse.”

She thought about telling him about her dream. No. She didn’t want anyone to worry about her when there was so much going on. Besides, talking about it would make it seem more real in her own mind, and she wasn’t about to make Stephan any more real than he already was.

When she saw Mark again, she would tell him. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe, by day, she could get to a library. She would ask someone to go with her, find some excuse.

Was she actually distrusting Mark? she asked herself. Because of something that Stephan had said to her in a dream?

No, she assured herself, thought it was true that she didn’t really know him.

Yes, she did, she argued with herself.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Bobby asked.

“Absolutely. Honestly. Go—get some rest.”

He nodded and left her.

For a few moments she moved restlessly around the room. But then she decided to read for a while. Bobby’s manual didn’t seem very interesting, but there were all kinds of things to choose from in the bookcase. She chose one on pirates in New Orleans and took a seat in Bobby’s chair. She glanced at Deanna again and was glad to see that her friend was still just fine.

With a sigh, she began to read, then gave herself a shake and realized she wasn’t comprehending anything she was reading. She was falling asleep.

Great. She had to stay awake.

She turned on the television that sat on top of the dresser, glad that every room had a TV and cable. Robin Hood: Men in Tights was on. A comedy. Good.

She looked at Deanna again to make sure the television wasn’t disturbing her. It wasn’t. She sat down again. Between the book and the television, she should manage to stay awake.

And she did. But when the movie ended and Bram Stoker’s Dracula came on she rose quickly and switched the channel to the news.

But the news was about the fact that police up and down the Mississippi River were still looking for the murderer responsible for the deaths of at least three women, and she quickly changed the channel again and found an old episode of Lassie. Big surprise, she thought. Timmy was in trouble again.

She tried to read, but once again her lids grew heavy.

I will stay awake, she vowed to herself. I will.

Down, down, down…

They crashed to the pavement, and he landed on top, but despite that, she was apparently unhurt and only laughed again.

Mark looked up and down the street. Far away, down near Harrah’s, there seemed to be activity. In the other direction, the T-shirt shop next to the hotel apparently never closed. Light was streaming from the door. But there was no one immediately near them.

She started clawing for his throat again, so he put his fingers around hers.

She fought. She struggled.

He used all his strength. All the tactics he had learned. She was unbelievably strong, but finally he felt the snap. He’d broken her neck. She was still looking up at him, but now her head was tilted at a gruesome angle.

“Blood, blood, blood!” she repeated.

There was some discarded construction material lying out by the curb. He kept a grip on her and rolled toward it.

She saw his intent and tried futilely to straighten her head.

Too late. He found a ragged two by four and thrust it into her chest as hard as he could.

From somewhere nearby, a woman screamed in horror. “Murder!”

The girl beneath Mark stared up at him, her eyes growing wide. Her deep gasp sounded like a balloon being deflated. Blood gurgled from her lips as she began to turn black…

And exploded into soot beneath him.

Covered with it, blackened, Mark rose. He heard the wail of a police cruiser in the distance, and he turned and ran, the shadows.

He found one, aware of footsteps pounding behind him as he disappeared into the darkness.

He couldn’t be accused of anything, because she had been old. Very old. There would be no murder charge because there would be no body….

He headed down the street. In the distance, he could still hear the woman screaming about murder.

She could hear a rapping.

No, it was a pounding.

It broke into the deep and dreamless sleep into which Lauren had fallen, curled into the comfortable chair.

She opened her eyes.

Yes, it was pounding. And it was coming from…

The front door.

Her eyes flew open, and she immediately looked over to the bed.

Empty!

Lauren sprang to her feet and raced into the hall, then down the stairs. Deanna was standing at the front door. And it was open.

Hair disheveled, looking barely awake, Stacey—with Bobby at her heels—nearly crashed into Lauren.

“Deanna!” Lauren cried.

As she spoke, a man stumbled in. He was wearing jeans and a Killers T-shirt.

He was covered in blood, and he crashed to the floor in the entryway.

Jonas.

15

M ark thanked God that the city hadn’t changed much. He was able to make his way back into the Quarter easily enough. Once there, he realized what time it was.

Daylight would come soon. He needed to get back to the house on Bourbon Street, steal a few hours of rest and get moving again. It occurred to him that he should be circling the lake looking for Stephan’s lair.

It was a huge lake, so he needed to get started early. If he could just get a little sleep and then get going, he could cover a lot of ground.

It wasn’t yet morning when he arrived at the house, but he felt every muscle tense as he stared up at the beautiful old manor on Bourbon Street.

It was ablaze with light.

He started to run, opened the gate and sprinted for the front door. He was shocked to find it unlocked.

He pushed it open, then frowned as he closed it and looked around the foyer.

They were all there: Big Jim, Bobby, Stacey, Lauren, Heidi—and Deanna. Along with someone else.

Jonas.

The vampire, bare-chested as Stacey washed his wounds, sat in a chair, evidently describing whatever had brought him to his current state. Deanna was seated at his feet, holding his hand, looking up at him with wide and adoring eyes.

Big Jim and Bobby noticed Mark first, followed by the others. Lauren let out a little cry, staring at him.

“I’m all right; it’s…grime, that’s all,” he said. Then he looked at Jonas and knew his voice was thick with suspicion when he asked, “What the hell happened to you?”

“I killed him!” Jonas said triumphantly.

“Stephan?” Mark said.

Jonas’s smile faded. “No,” he admitted. “But one of his right hand men. And he’s dead now. Deader than a door nail. He went up in a puff of…” He paused, getting a good look at Mark. “Soot,” he said weakly.

“He’s hurt,” Deanna said reproachfully. “Leave him alone.”

Mark stared at her sharply. She looked much better than someone who’d just woken up from a coma had a right to.

He stared at Big Jim. “Who let him in?” he demanded. Too harshly, he thought with a wince.

“I did,” Deanna said, carefully getting to her feet.

“Oh?” He looked at the others.

Lauren stepped closer, staring at him. She was tall, wearing a plain sleep shirt, yet she looked as elegant as a queen. Her eyes were such a brilliant blue, and her hair was like a cascade of the sun’s rays down her back. If she were differently dressed, if it were a different time, she really might have been Katie.

But she wasn’t Katie. She was Lauren. Just as beautiful. Articulate, talented, her own person. He knew that. And she had come to mean everything in the world to him.

Life, love…salvation.

“I fell asleep,” she said. “Then Jonas knocked…and Deanna heard him first.”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing so well,” Mark told Deanna.

“We’ve got everything under control,” Big Jim told him. “In case you want to shower.” He looked pointedly at Mark’s grimy clothes.

The sun would come up soon, and they did seem to be fine, Mark thought. Apparently Jonas had been in the house for a while, and nothing dire had happened. And Big Jim was there—ready to rip him to pieces if he caused any trouble.

“All right. I’ll shower.” He turned to Jonas. “Then you and I are going to have a talk.”

“He’s hurt!” Deanna said again.

“He’ll be just fine by the time I’m out of the shower.”

“I’ve got some clean clothes you can wear,” Bobby told Jonas. “You might want to wash away some of the stuff on you, too. The blood and the, uh…whatever.”

Mark nodded curtly to the lot of them and started up the stairs to his own room, where he stripped off his clothing, knowing he wouldn’t wash it or have it cleaned—it was going in the incinerator. He stepped into the shower.

As he turned the water, he heard the door to his room open. And he knew who it was.

He waited, standing beneath the hot spray, grateful for the sheets of water raining down on him. And the heat. The heat seemed to cure all the little aches and pains.

“Mark?”

He didn’t say anything, just watched her come closer.

“You’re angry at everyone, but you shouldn’t be. Jonas coming into the house…was my fault.”

Finally he said, “He’s in now. Fault doesn’t matter.”

“But I thought you believed Jonas was…good. Not evil.”

He ignored her implied question and said, “If you’re going to torment me, you might as well get in here.”

She hesitated, but a second later she stepped in beside him. The water seemed to heat up a notch. Hotter, harder. No. It wasn’t the water. It was his senses. It was her.

Suddenly he didn’t care about anything but the moment and having her there and safe.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, her arms encircling his back. “Honestly, you don’t know how sorry I am,” she whispered. She started to speak again, but he turned into her arms and found her lips with his own.

The soot that had covered him was gone. It had washed away down the drain like a bad dream. The heat was good, and Lauren’s skin was sleek against him. The soap smelled clean, like the woods, like pine. It was a pleasant, subtle, earthy scent. Like the lithe, supple vitality and life of her in his arms, it was completely arousing. Like the feel of her flesh, so hot and slick, it was an aphrodisiac. The pressure of her body against his was almost unbearable. The taste of her was erotic. He buried himself against her, holding her, kissing her, caressing her curves, everything heightened by the time and place, the water, the heat and the steam. He felt her lips against his flesh, felt her move against him, touch him…God, she knew just how to move against him. Knew when to keep her touch light. Knew when to make it rough.

When and where to caress and kiss and torment…

He lifted her against the tile. She held tight and settled onto him, like liquid steel as she arched and moved and rode to his urging, clinging to his shoulders, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Her fingers stroked his shoulders and back. Her whispers and kisses fell against his throat and shoulders and earlobes, and when they had both climaxed to the music of the steam and their own heartbeats, she found his lips, desperately clinging while he eased her back to the ground.

And still the spray fell around them.

He held her soaked, glistening body, smoothing back her hair, looking into her eyes.

He almost said the words he had said once before, what seemed like eons ago….

I love you.

But he held back. Instead he cupped her chin and stared at the beauty of her face, the fine lines of her profile sculpted by the water.

“We have to be more careful than ever,” he said softly.

She swallowed. “It’s my fault. And I was thinking…we should leave.”

He felt as if someone were squeezing his heart, but when he spoke, it wasn’t because he was afraid. It was because he couldn’t bear to let her go.

He spoke the truth.

“It won’t help if you leave,” he said wearily. “He’ll follow you.”

Fear lit her eyes, but she blinked it away quickly. “All right. But maybe Heidi and Deanna should go.”

Maybe they should, he thought. Except that once they were gone, there would be no Sean Canady, no Bobby Munro, no Stacey and no Maggie, no Big Jim, to keep them safe.

And now Jonas was in the mix, too.

“I’m afraid this has to be solved here, now, or else you’ll all be in danger for the rest of your lives,” he told her.

And it was the truth.

She lowered her eyes and nodded, her hair teasing his chest.

“I’m not lying just to keep you here,” he said softly.

“I know you’re not,” she told him. “So where do we go from here?”

“We find him. So you’re never in danger again.”

As he listened to the half-hysterical woman on the street, Sean Canady nodded politely and reminded himself that he had asked to be told when anything odd occurred.

“I’m telling you, the two of them fell from the fourth floor window,” she said indignantly. “It’s broken. Even a blind man can see that.”

The window was broken. That much was for sure. The hotel manager had told him that the room was registered to a Rene Smith. She had listed her address as New York City. Sean wasn’t from New York and hadn’t spent that much time in the Big Apple, but even he knew there was no such thing as 18th Avenue in Manhattan.

“They fell from the window—and got back up?” one of the detectives with Sean inquired skepticallly.

The woman, who was in her mid-sixties and wrapped in self-righteousness, looked at the officer and inhaled deeply. “I’m telling you what I saw,” she said. “With these two eyes.”

Sean lowered his head, wincing. The officer who’d spoken was Jerry Merchant. Night shift. Detective Jerry Merchant. This was really his case.

And he knew Jerry. Knew what Jerry was about to say.

“I’m sorry, but do you usually wear glasses?” Jerry asked politely.

Not unexpectedly, the woman exploded. “I wear glasses to read a menu, young man, not to see at a distance. I was right across the street. Over there. And I’m telling you that two people came flying out of that window. They hit the ground. Then the man took one of those construction beams and slammed it into the woman’s chest. I saw it.”

“You mean like that beam lying in the pile of soot on the sidewalk over there?” Jerry asked.

The woman pursed her lips. “Harry was right next to me. He saw it, too. Didn’t you, Harry?” She gave her husband a light smack in the arm with her handbag.

“Uh…” Harry said, looking at his wife and wincing. “I was concentrating on Harrah’s—that’s where we were headed. It’s our fortieth anniversary, right, Sonia?” He attempted a weak smile. If he’d wanted a happy anniversary, he wasn’t getting it now.

“Harry! How could you have missed it?” she demanded angrily.

“Honey, if you say they fell from the window, I know they did,” Harry said gallantly.

She sniffed. “They’re going to be pulling that girl out of the Mississippi, too, you mark my words.”

“Now, now, since she would have been dead if a two by four had gone through her chest, she’d have to be here, wouldn’t she? They won’t be pulling her out of the Mississippi. I’m sure of that,” Jerry said.

Sean knew that Jerry was right, but he was also feeling a fair amount of sympathy for Sonia, who had undoubtedly seen it all exactly the way she was telling it.

Which was unnerving. It looked like Mark was right. Stephan had brought an army.

“You have to find that man and arrest him,” Sonia said.

“You’ll describe him for us, right?” Jerry said.

He was humoring her, thank God, Sean thought.

“Of course. Get me one of those police artists,” she said.

“Just give us an overall description, if you will, please. We’ll start from there,” Jerry said.

At that point Sonia hesitated. Then she sighed. “I think he was tall and dark. That’s all I can really say.”

The desk clerk chimed in at that point and told them the woman who had taken the room had come back with a man, but he hadn’t been dark. He’d been young, college age, and he’d looked like an all-American football hero.

Sean left Jerry and the night crew to their work. Then he started pounding the streets, even though he was afraid he was already too late. Still, it never paid to give up before starting.

Thirty minutes later, he found a tall man with broad shoulders and sandy hair sitting alone in a nearby—and nearly empty—bar. One proudly advertising that it never closed and had remained open throughout hurricane Katrina.

Sean took the seat next to the man, whose fingers were threaded through his hair as he stared into his untouched beer.

“Bad night?” Sean asked.

The guy started and stared at Sean, fear in his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Bad night.” He picked up the beer and consumed nearly the whole glass in a single swallow.

“I’m a cop,” Sean told him. “What happened.”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear. I’m an honor student.”

“Quarterback?” Sean said.

“Fullback.”

“You any good?” Sean asked.

“You bet,” he said proudly, seeming a little more at ease.

“Want to tell me about tonight?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Tell me.”

“Can a cop buy a guy a beers?”

Sean motioned to the bartender, who set another beer in front of the blond man. “This is it,” he said, wincing. “I may never drink again. Worse than that, I may be afraid to get laid for the rest of my life.”

“Tell me.”

“She was gorgeous. We met in some bar. Started talking, drinking. She knew music…we danced. Drank some more. Then she told me she had a room. Next thing I know, she’s trying to rip my throat out.”

“And then?”

“Some guy bursts into the room and they go at it—and I got the hell out. She was scary crazy. She’d had her teeth sharpened or something. And she must have been on steroids, because she was stronger than any guy I ever met. Stronger than the entire football team.”

“What about the guy who burst in on you? What happened to him?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I got the hell out. That’s the truth, I swear it. Please…that’s all I know. I’ve never run so fast in my life. Please, don’t arrest me. I wasn’t doing anything illegal.”

“I’m not going to arrest you,” Sean told him.

The kid lowered his head. “After this bear, I’ll never drink again, and I’ll never pick up a strange girl again, either. I don’t care how good she looks.”

Sean set a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t go telling all your buds on the team about this, if I were you.”

The young man looked at him with sheer horror. “Oh, God, no!”

“Good. Here’s my card. You have any more trouble, give me a call.”

“Thanks.” The kid offered his hand. “I’m Nate Herman. And…thanks. I don’t know who that guy was, but…he saved my life. I’m telling you, she had fangs. And she wanted to rip my throat out.”

“Why don’t you finish up that beer and I’ll drop you off at your dorm?”

When they left, the sun was coming up.

Sean was relieved but still wary.

The sun was no guarantee the world was a safe place. He knew that all too well.

Lauren wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but she actually fell back to sleep. Mark was glad; she had seemed keyed up but, beneath that, extremely tired.

As for Deanna…

With Jonas in the house, she seemed to have made a miraculous recovery. The nurse who’d come by a little while ago had told them that she didn’t think Deanna needed continued medical visitations. That was a relief, Mark thought. He didn’t like having outsiders in the house.

It was midmorning before he got the chance to talk to Jonas. And that was after he spent some time on the phone with Sean Canady, who asked him to try hard not to break any more windows. Or to fall four floors from a building and then put a stake through what appeared to be a young woman’s heart in public.

“Glad you’re all right,” Sean said as the conversation drew to a close. “And, by the way, I’ve asked Maggie to stop by Montresse House later today. She can take some of the stress off the others, let them have a little break.”

Mark let out a breath, thinking how grateful he was to the cop. With Maggie in the house, he wouldn’t be so worried about leaving. He felt tremendous faith in this woman who had actually been a vampire, thought he still didn’t understand how it was possible that she had reverted to humanity.

I never actually died, she had told him.

Therein must lie the difference. He’d seen a lot through the years, but nothing like Maggie Canady. However, once they had talked, he hadn’t been able to doubt her.

“All right, where were you?” he asked Jonas, when he was alone with him at the kitchen table at last.

“I’d been at the hospital, and something didn’t seem right.”

“As in…?”

Jonas looked at him, cocking his head at an angle. “I just…sensed something wasn’t right. So I went into the hallway and I saw a doctor. But he wasn’t a doctor, you know? Anyway, I started following him. He headed out to the parking garage. It was a trap. A whole gang of them lit on me. I managed to get away, but I was messed up pretty bad, and I didn’t think I’d make it. Anyway, I must have passed out. I wound up in the emergency room. As soon as I could, I escaped, but by then…the whole hospital had gone nuts. I was on my way here, ‘cuz I overheard someone saying Deanna had been taken here, when I ran into Stephan’s…general, I guess you’d call him. And I took him out.”

Jonas sounded proud, and if what he said was true, Mark supposed he had a right to. But was it true?

Or was it all a clever act?

Mark leaned back, staring at him. He looked fine right now, wearing one of Bobby’s freshly pressed shirts and chinos.

What he looked like didn’t mean a damned thing.

“So how are you doing now?” Mark asked.

“Good. I’m in good shape,” Jonas said.

Mark drummed his fingers on the table, studying the man. He wasn’t leaving him here. Not when he was going out, even if Maggie Canady was coming by.

“So you think Stephan got into the hospital by dressing up in a doctor’s uniform?”

“I’m willing to bet. Who wouldn’t open the door for a doctor?”

Mark pulled out his cell phone and made a call to the hospital. He asked for Leticia Lockwood’s room.

Judy Lockwood answered. She sounded pleased to hear his voice. “Leticia seems to be doing much better. She isn’t actually coherent yet, but she has opened her eyes a few times. She seems bewildered, poor dear. But we’re just fine. Mighty kind of you to ask.”

He hesitated, then said, “Judy, you have to be careful about letting anyone into the room—including the doctors. Never actually ask anyone in, okay?”

He heard her soft chuckle on the other end. “Silly man, I know that,” she assured him. “And I have that nice officer’s card if I get worried, and your number, too. Don’t you go being worried about me. I know what I’m up against”

“I’m glad to hear it, Ms. Lockwood. Thank you.”

He closed his phone, studying Jonas again.

“We’re going to take a ride.”

“Shouldn’t I stay here?”

“Hell no.”

“You still don’t trust me.”

“I don’t know you.”

Jonas shrugged. “Fair enough. Where are we going?”

“I told you. For a ride. No questions. You still look a little rough around the edges, so you can rest while I drive.”

“Mind if I tell Deanna I’m going out?”

“Sure. I’ll walk you up there.”

He watched from the hallway while Jonas went in to talk to Deanna. Heidi was sitting with her, which didn’t seem to be the safest combination in the world, but Big Jim was there, too, so he decided things would probably be fine.

He left Jonas to his goodbyes and went into his own room.

Lauren was still sound asleep in his bed. She was so beautiful, her hair like sunshine splashed across the pillows. He leaned down and kissed her brow. She smiled, as if, even in her sleep she was aware he was there.

He met Jonas in the hallway. “Let’s go,” he said.

“I’m right behind you.”

“I like it better when you’re right in front of me,” Mark countered.

Once they were out of the city, Jonas looked at him. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

Mark hesitated. “Anything that looks like it’s been abandoned but’s suddenly in use. Like a car in front of a condemned building, anything like that.”

“Like beer bottles on an overgrown lawn?” Jonas asked.

“Yeah, exactly,” Mark said.

“Turn around then. We just passed one.”

Lauren was surprised when she woke and walked into Deanna’s room to find Deanna asleep and a strange woman sitting with her. She had auburn hair, darker than her own, and fantastic eyes that seemed both green and gold. She had been reading, but she set her book down and stood.

“Hi. You have to be Lauren. I’m Maggie Canady.”

“The lieutenant’s wife?”

“Yes.” Maggie offered her a hand, and Lauren took it. “Actually, I think I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh?” Lauren murmured warily. Had this woman known Katie, too?

“You’ve been in my shop. I own a clothing store.”

“Oh, my God, yes!” Lauren said. She should have recognized the woman’s face, she thought. There was a painting of her in the store, wearing a costume. Civil War era, Lauren thought. It was a beautiful painting. She had admired it often.

“Great shop. I go there practically every time I come here. I feel like I’ve been going there since I was a child.”

“It’s been in the family,” Maggie said.

Deanna moved on the bed but didn’t awaken.

“She looks great,” Maggie said. “Especially for being nearly drained by a vampire.”

Lauren blinked. “You…know?”

“Yes, and I’m here to help,” Maggie told her. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

There was something about the way she spoke; Lauren did believe her.

“I’m glad you’re here. Is…Mark still here?”

“He left with Jonas.”

“Oh. Heidi?”

“Asleep in her own room.” Maggie smiled. “It’s a very tired household this morning. Bobby is puttering around in the kitchen. At least he’s awake.” She smiled. “He’s assigned to watch the house. I’m not sure how Sean manages stuff like that with his superiors on the force, but…he’s a good cop, and they give him a lot of leeway.”

Lauren nodded, feeling more secure knowing there were cops who knew what to watch out for. Mark had been right. They didn’t dare leave until Stephan was stopped. She was more afraid than ever, after last night, certain that sooner or later he would find her.

“Well, I’m awake, but I have to admit, going back to sleep this morning was wonderful. Right now, though, I need to go to the library.”

Maggie frowned instantly. “You can’t go anywhere alone.”

“Since Big Jim and Bobby are here, do you want to come with me?” She smiled. “I’m willing to bet there are tanks of holy water in this house. I have a water pistol—and I know how to use it,” she said lightly. “I’m sure you do, too.”

Maggie looked thoughtful as she studied Lauren and said, “I have a feeling you’re going to the library with or without company. Why?”

“There’s something I have to look up. It’s important. This all began with a fortune-teller. She made a few comments about things I need to know.”

Maggie’s brow furrowed. “It’s so important that you’d leave the house now?”

“Yes,” Lauren said firmly.

“All right. I’ll get Big Jim up here. We’ll go together. Go get your purse, or whatever you’ll need. I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

Apparently there really was a vat of holy water in the house somewhere, because when Lauren got downstairs, Maggie was supplied with a number of water pistols, four in all, two for each of them. She handed Lauren a small container of something else.

“What’s this?” Lauren asked.

“Toothpicks,” Maggie explained.

“Toothpicks?” Lauren repeated, confused.

“They don’t kill, but they hurt a vampire like hell. Especially if you catch one in the eyes. I always keep a few in my pockets. So…you wearing your cross?”

“I am.”

“Are you two off?” Bobby Munro asked, coming in from the kitchen. “I’m not sure this is such a great idea. Don’t be gone for more than a few hours,” he said firmly.

Maggie laughed. “Don’t worry, Bobby. I have to be back before church camp ends. My kids,” she explained to Lauren. “I have three. And I wouldn’t leave them at all right now if it weren’t for church camp.”

“Call,” Bobby said. “If you need me.”

“You bet,” Maggie assured him.

With a wave, she started out the door. Lauren gave Bobby a cheerful wave, as well, and followed.

Mark made a U-turn. A minute later he saw the place Bobby had been talking about. It was dark, two storied, and looked as if it had been built in the Victorian era. There had once been a wrap-around porch, but most of it was gone now. There was still evidence of ginger-breading on the trim. One step leading up to the front door was gone.

But the lawn showed signs of activity.

A rum bottle. Two beer cans and a half dozen beer bottles.

As they walked across the lawn, Mark noticed that someone had recently created a makeshift barbecue; an old oven grill had been placed between sticks over a bed of coals.

“Are they cooking their meat?” Jonas murmured.

“I don’t know what they’re cooking,” Mark muttered in reply and stared at Jonas. “Are you ready?”

Jonas lifted the flashlight, heavy hammer and the shoulder bag of stakes he was carrying, taken from the trunk of Mark’s car. Mark was similarly armed.

“I take it you always travel with these?” Jonas asked.

“Always.”

“What happens if you get pulled over for a traffic stop?”

“So far, it hasn’t happened,” Mark told him. “Let’s go.”

He looked up at the sky, glad that it was one of those days when the sun was brilliantly shining. The house was close to the water; the ground underfoot was soft. When they reached the porch, he lifted his foot and checked his shoe.

The sole was covered with marshy mud and strands of grass.

Just as Leticia’s white nurse’s shoes had been.

“Go on,” Mark said.

Jonas stared at him, shaking his head ruefully. “Sure, I’ll go first. Though if I were a traitor, that would just make it easier for me to warn the others.”

“Maybe. But you alsowouldn’t be behind me, ready to trap me,” Mark replied. “Go.”

Jonas preceded him up the stairs, ably—and silently—leaping over the missing step. He landed on the porch. When he tried the door, it was locked.

He looked back at Mark, who came up beside him and nodded.

“Count of three?” Jonas asked.

“Why not?” Mark said quietly.

Jonas mouthed the count, and then they rammed the door together. It opened, and they were in the house.

An eerie darkness rose to meet them, along with the fetid stench of death.

16

H eidi was asleep, and yet…

She felt as if she were awake.

Awake and…

Being seduced. By someone—some thing —deliciously wicked. Something unknown, that couldn’t— shouldn’t —be. Something tainted with an irresistible touch of sin. It was as if the covers had been drawn back and a stranger had joined her. A known…stranger. She felt the air, warm and arousing, against her flesh as the covers were stripped away. She fire against her flesh as his hands teased along her thighs, fingers dancing delicately across her flesh. He spread her legs, and she couldn’t believe the things he did to her then, the intimacies that were being taken. But, oh, God, the excitement that was growing in her, the heat rising in her center, hot, wet…

All while she was sleeping.

“Let me,” came a voice.

And she knew she couldn’t bear it if she didn’t.

It was a dream, she told herself, only an erotic dream.

More and more intimate as that husky whisper repeated the words. “Let me…Let me…in. Let me into you.”

She burned. Ached. Writhed.

“Let me,” came the whisper against her flesh.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Although Maggie accompanied her, Lauren could tell that the other woman wasn’t pleased about going to the library. She didn’t seem easy with Lauren’s research, either. But she sat there at a neighboring computer and uncomplainingly looked up various dates or pieces of information at Lauren’s request.

Lauren found the process frustratingly slow. It seemed that every reference led her to another reference, and another, then finally to a dead end.

“Hey…I think I found one of Mark’s ancestors,” she said at last, skimming a newspaper article that had been written before the Civil War. “’Randolph Davidson and son supply regular cavalry.’” She looked at Maggie with excitement, then went on. “Davidson was the owner of Innisfarm, and he financed a militia group. He was apparently quite wealthy…look! His son’s name was Mark!”

“You know families, they’re always reusing names,” Maggie said.

Lauren kept scrolling through the now-defunct local paper. So much of what she read was so sad. Lists of the dead and pleas for information on missing sons. Then the man called “Beast” Butler came to New Orleans in 1862, and the city remained under Northern control from that point on.

She was about to give up on finding any more information on Mark’s ancestors when she was startled to come upon a social page dating from 1870. The city was still struggling; the war had ended, but not the loss and the bitterness. Even so, engagements and weddings were still being listed. She read aloud. “‘Mark Davidson arrives in town with future bride.’ His bride-to-be was named Katya Bresniskaya, from Russia. The wedding was planned for the bride’s homeland.”

She turned and stared at Maggie. “How ridiculous! This is more or less the story Mark told me about his past,” she said, infutiated.

Maggie stared back at her, then sighed. “There’s more.”

She reached over and scrolled down the screen.

“’Tragedy strikes again. Noble house falls to madness,’” Lauren read aloud. She looked over at Maggie, who wasn’t even looking at the screen as she began to tell the story.

“Father and son, and all the family who were still alive after the war, traveled to Kiev. On the day of the wedding, Randolph Davidson shot his daughter-in-law in the back with a silver-tipped wooden arrow. Katya’s family’s revenge was instantaneous. The wedding turned into a boodbath. Davidson was killed first. It was assumed his son was killed, as well, although his body wasn’t returned for burial, as the father’s was. It was a terrible day when Davidson was buried. He was put to rest on family land, and while the service was going on, the house burned to the ground. The land still lies vacant.”

Lauren shook her head, staring wide-eyed at Maggie. “I don’t understand. Is Mark suffering from some kind of delusion? Does he think he’s this Mark Davidson? And if the father killed Katya why does he claim Stephan did it?”

“I think you should talk to Mark,” Maggie said. “But he doesn’t just think he’s that Mark Davidson, he is that Mark Davidson.”

“I’m not so sure I should be talking to anyone here,” Lauren said and glanced quickly away, then back at Maggie. “I’m sorry.”

“I can tell you one more thing, because I’ve known creatures like Stephan before. If you don’t end this now, you will live in fear all your life. Either that, or you can just accept the life he wants for you.” Maggie shook her head. “I wish the others were here. Lucian would be especially helpful.”

“Lucian,” Lauren said, frowning. “Jonas talked about Lucian. About coming to see Lucian so he could work here…find a home here.”

Maggie went on as if she hadn’t heard Lauren, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.” It would be great to have Brent here, too.” She turned to Lauren then and said, sounding quite sane, “Brent is a werewolf.”

Lauren blinked. They were all crazy, including this woman.

“Mechanically enhanced,” Maggie added. “The war, you know.”

“The Civil War?”

“No, no. World War II.”

Lauren stared at Maggie. “If I’m following what you’re telling me…No, it’s just insane. That would mean that Mark was a Confederate soldier in the Civil War. And that he survived the battles and Reconstruction, and in eighteen-seventy he married a girl named Katya who he’d met in New Orleans, a girl from Russia. But…his father, not Stephan, went mad and killed her, and somehow Mark is over a century old.”

Maggie looked uncomfortable. “You really need to talk to him.”

“Were you alive during the Civil War?” Lauren demanded.

Maggie lowered her head, wincing.

“You’re telling me that you were.”

“Please, Lauren, talk to Mark.”

Lauren suddenly felt as if she had to escape. Sitting in the library, surrounded students and retirees busy at the computers, patronssearching for books, and mothers with their children, she felt as if she alone had entered a world of insanity. Vampires were bad enough, but all this…

The dream that had haunted her now seemed far too real. Had Stephan somehow entered her mind? She wouldn’t have come here, to the library, if it hadn’t been for the dream.

Could it be possible? Had Mark been chasing Stephan for over a hundred years? Since just after the Civil War?

No, it was impossible.

But what if it were real? Then she could understand the build-up of hatred, of his desperate longing to find justice. But that still didn’t explain why he blamed Stephan, not his father, for Katya’s death.

She shook her head, as if to clear her mind. She really couldn’t take any more of any of this right now.

Maggie was blithely talking about a friend who was a werewolf and had apparently been “ernhanced” in some way during during World War II, but she couldn’t bring herself to listen. She was too busy obsessing over the possibility that Mark had been around for over a hundred years.

She stood up, feeling ill. Had Mark been lying to her all along? Evading the truth all along? Had he mistrusted Jonas when he was really no better than the other man?

At least Jonas admitted what he was….

She stood up, angry, confused, and thinking there was really only one person she could trust.

Herself.

“Let’s go,” she said, hoping her agitation wasn’t evident in her voice.

“Lauren, please, I wish I knew how to convince you that Stephan has to be stopped.”

“I do believe he has to be stopped.” I just don’t know what else I believe, she thought.

Maggie’s turned her phone on as they left the library, and seconds later it rang. She answered, and Lauren watched her face grow pale.

“What is it?”

“We have to get back to the house.”

“What’s happened?”

“Heidi is gone.”

From the moment he and Jonas entered the house, Mark knew that something wasn’t right.

There were vampires here, that was for certain. As the door closed behind them, Mark felt the flutter of wings. He turned his flashlight toward the sound. The creature veered slightly, shrieking with pure fury. He swung the heavy hammer he carried, stunning the creature. It fell to the floor, stunned. His stakes were honed to razor sharpness, and his aim was excellent; he speared it instantly. A smell rose as it let out a dying gasp and disappeared in a puff of dust and grime, a flash of fire. It didn’t totally disintegrate; it’s skull rolled and crashed into an arm bone. As he watched, there came another fluttering; this time one of the hideous beings was heading for Jonas.

Jonas cried out and ducked, but he swung as well, replicating Mark’s earlier move. They had to catch the things in air, knock them down, then impale them instantly. That seemed to be the method.

Mark aimed his light across the room. The flooring was gone in places, an d he could see down into the basement below them.

“Most of them will be down there,” he told Jonas. “Hopefully asleep.”

Jonas swallowed hard. “Let’s go.”

They found the stairs. Jonas almost crashed through a rotten step on the way down, but Mark caught him. The basement turned out to be filled with coffins, some relatively modern, some ancient and decaying. “Go for the old ones first,” Mark told Jonas.

“Shouldn’t we do them together?” Jonas asked thickly.

“Do you see how many there are?” Mark asked him.

“Um…yeah.”

“No time to partner up.” Mark went for what looked to be the oldest coffin and opened it quickly. The woman sleeping inside was young and beautiful, dressed in an elegant gown that spoke of a long-ago time in a distant place. She had become as she was in the late seventeen hundreds, he guessed.

“My God,” Jonas breathed from just behind Mark. “That…angel can’t be a creature of evil.”

Mark stared at him.

The woman’s eyes suddenly popped open, and she stared at them in shock and fury. Her lips curled back as she hissed out a terrible sound of hatred.

“Shit!” Jonas said.

“You should know,” Mark told him harshly.

He lifted his stake over her heart just as she started to move. Not fast enough. He hammered the point into her. Her mouth opened again, but this time no sound came. Instead, blood spilled out. She had feasted quite recently. She began to change, her beautiful face turning skeletal, and then she was soot.

Mark heard a rustling in the next coffin and turned on Jonas. “Damn you, move!”

Jonas swallowed and came to life.

“The old ones. Go for the older ones first,” Mark reminded him, then headed for the coffin where he’d heard the rustling. When he swung it open, the dignified and elderly Edwardian vampire was ready.

But so was he.

The creature never growled, never let out so much as a shriek. He simply exploded in silence, with nothing but a puff of black.

Mark began to move more quickly. After a moment he heard Jonas let out a moan. He turned instantly, worried. But Jonas was all right. He was stranding over an open coffin, his features twisted into a grimace of disgust.

“Ugh,” he murmured. “I hit a juicy one.”

Mark grated his teeth with impatience. “Move, and quickly. They’re waking up.”

While he was speaking, he was hastilyflipping open lids, mindless of the noise he was making. By the time they reached the last two coffins, the vampires were out and ready for battle. Jonas let out a cry of surprise when one caught hold of his shoulders and prepared to cannibalize him.

Mark drew out his water pistol of holy water.

The creature, struck, let out a cry like the Wicked Witch of the East. Mark shot again, but by then Jonas had gathered both his wits and his strength. He turned, his stake dripping blood from previous kills, and slammed it into the writhing creature.

Mark dealt with the last vampire the same way; a stream of water, followed by a fierce impaling.

“All right,” he told Jonas. “Go back now. Wherever the head is still attached, well, you know what to do.”

As they continued to work, Jonas asked, “How the hell is anyone ever going to explain this?”

“That’s Sean Canady’s department,” Mark said. “Apparently, he’s handled situations like this before.”

“Oh, God,” Jonas moaned again. “This is just gross.”

Mark stepped back, playing his light around the room. They had taken care of every coffin in the place and destroyed at least forty of the deadly creatures, but something was still wrong.

“I don’t know how he does it,” he said.

“What?” Jonas asked absently, working on the last corpse, “a juicy one,” as he called the younger vampires.

“This place…it’s a decoy,” Mark said. “These were Stephan’s sacrifices.” He stared at Jonas. “He wanted us to find this place—wanted me to find it.”

“Why?” Jonas asked.

Innocently? Mark wondered.

“So he could be busy elsewhere,” Mark said angrily, and turned toward the stairs. He had to get back to Montresse House as quickly as possible.

No sooner had Maggie hung up than Lauren’s cell. She didn’t recognize the voice at first.

“Don’t speak to anyone. I don’t know where you are or who you ‘re with, but you have to come to me now. Do you understand?”

It was Susan, the fortune-teller, she realized

“No,” she said harshly.

She could hear a note of misery in the woman’s voice. Like a sob. But was it real?

“I’m the messenger, just the messenger,” the woman said. “He has Heidi. And he says he’ll kill her, and that her death will be on your head.”

Maggie was staring at her questioningly.

“It’s nothing,” Lauren lied.

“Come to the Square,” Susan said, then made a strange sound. A sound of pain, Lauren thought.

Don’t do anything stupid, don’t act insanely, she warned herself.

It was as if Stephan knew what she was thinking and was using Susan to make sure she knew it. “You can get help, maybe even eventually bring him down. But Stephan wants to know if that will really matter, because, if you don’t come now, Heidi will definitely be dead.”

How the hell had he gotten to Heidi?

She remembered her own dream. He had that power. He could enter the mind.

“What is it?” Maggie persisted.

“Nothing, just a call from back home,” Lauren lied.

She heard Susan’s voice again, a whisper this time. “Don’t come. He wants you, but you can’t give him what he wants. You—”

Susan’s voice suddenly broke off in a chilling, gasping sound. Lauren realized that Maggie was still staring at her and knew she couldn’t let her face betray her fear.

“You sure nothing’s wrong?” Maggie asked.

Lauren covered the phone. “A client’s are not happy with a project, that’s all,” she said, then returned her attention to the call.

But the phone had gone dead.

They were nearing Maggie’s Volvo, and Lauren realized she had to act fast, so she said, “Damn. I can’t find my wallet. It must have fallen out of my bag. I’ll be right back.”

She turned and raced back into the library.

Then out the back door.

The call came the minute they stepped out onto the broken-down porch. It was Stacey, and she was frantic. “I don’t understand. The house was completely protected. There was no way he could have forced his way in.”

“But Heidi is gone? Mark asked.

“Yes,” Susan told him miserably.

His heart thundered. “Lauren?”

“She should be back any minute,” Stacey told him.

“Back? From where?” he demanded.

“She went to the library with Maggie, but they’re on their way back here.”

“We’re on our way, too,” he told Stacey.

“Wait!” Jonas cried. “Deanna?”

“Deanna?” Mark said into the cell.

“She’s fine.”

He nodded to Jonas, who was actually shaking. And, still, Mark couldn’t help but wonder whether this supposedly good vampire was for real. After all, he was the one who had spotted the house where the creatures were resting. A house that had been a decoy.

He hung up. “Let’s go,” he told Jonas and sprinted for the car.

Lauren found a taxi that took her down to the Square.

It was still light, but twilight was coming soon. It had been a beautiful, brilliant, sunny day, but now glorious streaks of pink and crimson were making their way in waves across a sky still lit by the glittering orb of the sinking sun.

But what did daylight matter in the end? Stephan could move freely by day when he chose. Darkness simply gave him even greater power.

There were people everywhere and no shadows yet, but even so, Lauren felt a rising sense of fear as she looked around the Square, then headed to the spot where she had first met Susan.

Where she had first seen Stephan in the crystal ball.

She stood in the square, facing the Cathedral, and felt a breeze that blew across her skin like a chilling caress.

She turned and looked around—and wondered how she had missed it.

A small tent had been pitched near what she thought of as Susan’s spot.

The same tent she had entered that first night, which now seemed ridiculously long ago.

A lifetime ago.

Her hand shaking, she drew back the flap.

And found Susan.

Deanna didn’t know what was wrong with her. She certainly didn’t feel sick. She did feel…vindicated. She also felt as if she were truly falling in love for the first time.

With Jonas…

Talk about a mixed marriage.

Even so, as she stood in the living room of Montresse House, knowing Jonas was on his way, she felt compelled to leave. Something was telling her that she had to get out. And that she couldn’; t tell anyone where she was going.

She heard Bobby and Big Jim talking on the other side of the room. “Maybe we shouldn’t have trusted that bastard Jonas,” Bobby said. “Maybe Mark would have been back by now if it weren’t for him.”

“I’ll kill him,” Big Jim said angrily.

Get out, get out now, a voice in Deanna’s head commanded. Get out. Come to me.

She could see him in her mind’s eye, a tall dark man, and he was beckoning to her.

“Looks like we’d better get ready for a major fight,” Bobby said. “I’ll call Sean. It looks like this is going to be the showdown.”

Bit Jim asked, “How do you know?”

“I don’t know,” Bobby admitted. “I just feel it, I guess. I’ve learned to go on intuition sometimes.”

Big Jim stared at him, then nodded knowingly. “Yeah,” he said simply, then headed for the back of the house, followed by Bobby.

Deanna looked toward the front door.

Come to me. Help me. I need your help. Please…

She glanced around quickly. No one in sight.

She opened the door and walked out.

Susan was lying on the floor, bleeding from a gash on her head….

Bleeding profusely from her throat.

Lauren let out a soft cry and knelt down beside her, desperate to find a pulse. She fumbled with her phone while she sought the woman’s wrist and hit 911 instinctively. “Susan, oh, Susan…I’m so sorry,” she murmured. An operator came on, and Lauren quickly gave her location. There had to be officers on the street. There had to be help nearby.

“Oh, Susan…” she said miserably.

The woman’s lips moved.

Lauren bent close to her, her heart in her throat. She was torn. The woman was badly hurt, maybe even near death. But she had to try to get her to speak. Had to find Stephan and save Heidi.

“He was here, wasn’t he? Stephan was here. He hurt you. And now I have to find him. I have to help Heidi. Susan, where is she? Please, you have to help me.”

She could hear a siren. Thank God. Help was coming.

“Please, Susan!”

Again the woman’s lips moved.

Lauren bent lower and finally realized what Susan was saying, the words she was repeating over and over again.

An address.

Judy Lockwood, aware that idle hands and idle minds were never good, kept up with her knitting, hour after hour. But as she looked down at her stitches, she suddenly had an uncanny feeling and looked up.

Leticia was awake.

She wasn’t just awake. She was straining against her restraints and staring at Judy. “The hour has come.”

Judy frowned, then hurried to her niece’s side. “Leticia, thank the Lord, you’re awake.”

Leticia didn’t seem to see her, though. She only repeated, “The hour has come.”

“What hour, Leticia? What hour?” Judy asked, frowning.

Leticia stared straight at her then, as if noticing her for the first time. “I saw him. He was killing a woman in the Square.”

Judy thought that maybe she should call for a doctor.

But she didn’t.

She made a different call, instead.

Mark practically flew into the house. Jonas was right behind him.

“Where’s Lauren?” Mark demanded of Maggie, who only stared at him, stricken. The others were there, as well, Big Jim, Bobby and Stacey. But there was no sign of Lauren, or of Heidi and Deanna.

“She got away from me at the library,” Maggie said.

“Deanna?” Jonas cried.

No one moved. They only looked guiltily away. He finally paid attention to his surroundings and realized that the grand entry hall of the mansion looked like a strange arsenal, with all kinds of bizarre weapons arranged in rows. There were a slew of water pistols. Bows and arrows. Stakes and hammers. Everyone was wearing a large cross. They were prepared.

But they were alone.

He turned, ready to accuse Jonas, but the man looked so stricken that Mark could only conclude that he really was good, or else he was such an accomplished actor that he should have been a stand-in for Benedict Arnold.

“Exactly what happened?” Mark demanded, looking from face to face.

“Heidi was sleeping. I checked on her every few minutes,” Stacey said.

“Deanna was downstairs with us,” Bobby said.

Heidi and Deanna had walked out on their own, Mark knew. Stephan hadn’t gotten in—except into their minds.

He swung around to stare accusingly at Maggie.

Where had Lauren gone when she left the library? The nightmare that had plagued him forever was alive and vivid in his mind’s eye.

A bride in white, walking down the aisle, her eyes aglow with love.

And then the blood, the rivers of blood…

“Has anyone gotten hold of Sean?” he asked.

“Yes,” Maggie said.

Just then Mark’s phone rang. He answered and heard Sean Canady’s voice. “The Square,” he said simply. “A fortune-teller was attacked in her tent.”

Mark turned around, heading for the door. “The Square!” he shouted.

“Wait!” Bobby yelled.

But Mark wasn’t waiting.

“Catch up with me!” he commanded.

Lauren was torn. The ambulance would be there any second. She couldn’t leave Susan.

But she had to leave Susan. Because she had to save Heidi.

What if Susan died—as she probably would—because she had tried to warn her away when Stephan had been with her?

Stephan was a vicious bastard. He killed for his own pleasure and amusement. He only let his victims “live” sometimes so he could enjoy their even greater torment.

Or to create his army.

And Heidi would never have been one of Stephan’s victims if not for her.

There was no help for it. She had to find her friend.

As she left through the back flap, she heard the paramedics approaching the tent and prayed they weren’t too late.

Mark reached the Square to find a scene of utter chaos. An ambulance and two police cars were parked in the middle of the pedestrian area. Artists, singers, musicians and tourists were standing around in awkward groups, some being questioned by the police, others just curious to see what all the fuss was about.

Mark forced his way through the crowd to where an officer was holding everyone back and fielding questions.

“She was attacked,” one bystander said. “I saw them bring her out. She was covered in blood.”

“Was it him? Was it the man who threw those women into the river?” someone else asked.

He had to get into the ambulance, Mark decided. And it didn’t matter how.

Just then Sean Canady pulled up in his car. He saw Mark and beckoned him over.

“I have to speak to Susan,” Mark said.

“I have to get to her. I have to,” Mark told Sean.

They strode over to the rescue vehicle. The back door was still open; Susan was inside, lying on a stretcher.

“You’ll have to question her later, lieutenant,” the med-tech said. “She’s in bad shape, lost a lot of blood. The wound on her head…it’s amazing her entire skull wasn’t caved in. We’re getting ready to take off.”

“This man needs a minute with her,” Canady said.

“All right. Come in. But she’s probably dying. She’s hanging on by a thread.”

Mark leapt up and took Susan’s hands in his own. He willed strength into her, prayed that she would open her eyes.

She didn’t.

But her lips began to move.

He leaned close to her.

She could barely form words.

But he managed to understand.

17

I t seemed to Lauren as if they’d been driving forever.

The beautiful pink light of twilight had gone to deepest red, and now it was fading altogether. No, that wasn’t true. There was still light. Red light. Blood red light, like a mist over the moon.

Suddenly, the cab driver stopped and turned in his seat to stare back at Lauren. “We’re here. Twenty-two fifty,” he told her.

They were there?

Where?

Then she realized that she was in front of what should have been a lovely home and realized that it had been destroyed by the Katrina flooding. In fact, the whole neighborhood had been flooded out.

That was why there were no lights except one streetlight. The connection was weak, though, or maybe the bulb was about to go, because it kept flickering on and off.

“Twenty-two-fifty,” the cabby repeated. “Look, lady, this is where you asked to be let off, and now I gotta go. Give me your money and get out of the car. I’m not staying here. If you’re crazy enough to, be my guest. If not, it’s another twenrt-two-fifty back to civilization.”

She dug in her purse for the money. At the same time, she tucked two of the water pistols into the waistband of her jeans and pulled the tails of her tailored denim shirt down to cover them. Then she paid the cabby, but apparently she hesitated too long for his taste.

“Lady, I’m getting out of here,” he warned her.

“Sure. And thanks. Thanks a lot. Service with a smile,” she countered.

She was barely out of the cab when he gunned the motor and shot away.

She stared up at the dark house. It had been beautiful once. As she moved closer, she could see a faded advertisement for the development the house was part of. It had been called Arcadia. Old luxury with modern convenience, the billboard explained. Every house a variant of the original mansion. The one she was standing in front of. It must have dated back nearly two hundred years, and it had been meticulously restored.

Then abandoned.

As she stood in the darkness, she saw that there was light inside. Pale, barely showing beneath the drapes that covered every window.

Lauren fingered the cross that Mark had given her. She needed strength so badly. Her knees were giving out on her. She felt a rush of fear and knew she couldn’t give in to it.

As she stood there, staring at the house, the night changed abruptly.

The sky darkened, and when she looked up, it seemed that the moon rode across a sea of red.

The darkness around her seemed to swoop and swerve. Giant shadows, changing, forming, coming close to her.

The breeze whispered.

Grew louder.

And then it wasn’t the breeze whispering at all. It was the sound of laughter, soft and throaty and all around her.

A strand of her hair rose, and she shuddered; it felt as if one of the shadows had touched her face.

She gritted her teeth and fought the urge to run. The din seemed to grow, laughter rising.

Her hair was tugged.

Pulled.

The shadows began to take form, and then, suddenly, people were standing before her, at least twelve of them, all men. They were all dressed in black. Black jeans, chinos, even dress pants. Black T-shirtss, polos, dress shirts. Some were young, others older. And they were all amused.

One man stepped forward. Stephan, standing tallest, and very dark. He was wearing a black poet’s shirt and trousers that clung to his muscular legs. He wore black boots, as well, that covered his calves.

“Welcome,” he told her.

“Don’t welcome me. You know I don’t want to be here. But you have my friend.”

“I have both your friends, and if you’re lucky and very well-behaved, they just may live. Come. Come closer.”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Take her,” he said casually.

The others closed in around her. She heard someone moving at her back, and he was close, far too close. She thought she could feel his fetid breath, teasing at her nape.

Her fear peaked. and she realized that she had to move—or die.

So she moved.

She drew out her water pistols and began to shoot.

She turned to her rear, desperate to rid herself of the creature breathing down her back. He was close, and she aimed straight into his eyes. She smelled burning flesh.

He screamed, and as he sizzled and burned, he tried to change back into shadow. He morphed…there, not there. She saw a patch of skull. She saw wings.

She fired again, and he collapsed at her feet.

She stomped on him, and he exploded into dust and soot. An old vampire, she thought. Very old.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

The others moved on her then, and she began to spin, her water pistols working. She tried, in the midst of her terror, to remember to aim. She couldn’t waste her holy water; she had no idea how long her “ammunition” would last.

All around her, the night seemed to explode with cries of pain and shouts of fury. The cacaphony rose to a crescendo; there was fire, mist…explosions of unnamable filth all around her.

And then there was a roar of fury. “Enough!”

It was Stephan.

“We can’t take her while she’s shooting,” one of his minions said. She couldn’t tell where the sound had come from and tried to find the speaker, longing to see him die.

But Stephan roared out a command again. “Enough!”

There was stillness all around her.

Shadows formed shapes again. Only five who remained standing, and they lined up at Stephan’s side.

“She will drop her weapons,” Stephan said.

“Why would I do that?” she demanded.

He smiled. “Because if you do not, your friends will die. I will kill them slowly, one at a time. The little blonde first, then the dark beauty. You will watch them suffer, and I promise, you will hear them scream and curse you as they die.”

She froze, swallowing.

“Drop your weapons, my dear,” Stephan said pleasantly. Then he snapped out a single word in a terrible fury.

“Now!”

Time.

Time was of the essence, Mark knew.

Stephan had been toying with them all along. He hadn’t cared how many he sacrificed on the way to his ultimate showdown. Mark even knew that Stephan had planned for him to discover his lair at last. Planned for him to feel desperate.

Planned for him to come alone.

But there was no help for it.

He slipped from the ambulance and disappeared into the crowd.

He could see Canady standing in the center of the storm, fielding questions, commanding men, and he dialed the lieutenant’s cell number.

“Canady speaking”

“It’s Mark.”

“Where the hell are you?”

Mark didn’t answer. Instead he gave Sean an address and said he was on his way.

“No! That’s what he wants you to do.”

“I know. But it’s also what I have to do,” Mark said, then hung up before Sean could voice a further protest. Then he punched in a number for Montresse House, passed on the information he had received from Susan, then said, “Tell Jonas. He can get there faster.”

Then he hung up—and moved.

As Lauren stared at Stephan, the front door of the house opened and she was stunned to see Heidi and Deanna walk calmly down the steps to flank.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” Stephan suggested.

“What are you two doing here?” Lauren asked her friends, ignoring Stephan’s words.

Neither one appeared to even hear her.

Stephan smiled knowingly at Lauren. “Actually, they’re both rather happy to be with me. They’re both so lovely….” He ran his fingers down the sculpted angle of Deanna’s cheek. “She really is a beauty. And, I’m sure, very talented. And this little one…I love a pale blonde.”

“If I drop my weapons,” Lauren said, “we’ll all be in your power.”

“A cab brought you out here, and a cab can take them back,” Stephan said, as pleasantly and easily as if they were eager to leave a party early.

She held on to her weapons and saw a flash of anger cross Stephan’s face.

“I want guarantees.”

“You don’t have the right to ask for anything,” he told her coldly.

“You have to let them go. Both of them.”

They were at an impasse, staring at one another. She thought she could use every last drop of water she had on Stephan. But would it be enough?

Five of his followers were still “alive.” And Stephan himself was so strong, capable of healing himself of wounds that would kill a lesser…creature..

Even as the thought passed through Lauren’s mind, Deanna silently took up a position in front of Stephan, and Lauren realized that the friend she was trying to save was willing to protect him with her own life.

“Shall we go inside?” Stephan asked.

“No, not until I see the two of them safely away from you.”

Stephan shrugged. “You have a phone. Call a cab. Go ahead.”

She hesitated, then carefully kept the one pistol in her hand as she stuffed the other into her waistband and fumbled for her phone. Stephan simply stared at her, politely smiling, as she ordered the cab and hung up.

His smile deepened. “You’ve been so hard to find, Lauren. Somehow I knew, though, that you were out there somewhere. I must have sensed you would be here when I came to New Orleans. And then I saw you, through that crystal ball, and I have been patiently waiting for you, aching for you, ever since.”

“Patiently waiting?” she said. “Interesting. As far as I can tell, you’ve been running all over town seducing women.”

“Only to get your attention,” he told her.

“You have my attention. What you don’t have is my trust.”

“You called for a cab yourself,” he reminded her. “Who knows? Maybe the fellow who dropped you off will just turn around and come back.”

“Maybe he’ll report this place to the police.”

“I rather hope not. It’s tricky when you kill an entire police force,” he said conversationally.

“You know that the police here know exactly who and what you are,” she told him.

“You’re stalling for time,” he said softly. “You’re waiting for Mark to come to your rescue, like a hero of old, riding up on a white charger. But surely you know the truth by now. I have been maligned. He is the liar, the evil one.”

“Somehow, I just don’t believe that.”

He shrugged. “You will.”

To Lauren’s surprise, she was startled by the sudden glow of headlights. She turned around, shielding her eyes.

The taxi had arrived.

Stephan lifted his arms. Like zombies, Deanna and Heidi walked toward the car. Lauren stared at Stephan with mistrust.

“Speak to the driver yourself, my dear. But you will hand me that water gun, and then you and I will walk inside together. If not, the cab—and your friends—will not be allowed to leave.”

Her fingers itched, but she didn’t dare pull the trigger. Five of his goons were still grouped around him. She knew that none of them would think a thing of killing the driver and the girls.

She walked with Stephan over to the cab. “The ladies need to get back to Bourbon Street,” Stephan said pleasantly, producing a large bill. “Get them there safely, please.”

He made sure that the back door was properly closed, then patted the top of the cab. It drove off.

Lauren felt the gun twisted from her hand.

“Let’s go in.”

She still had the cross around her neck, she reminded herself.

And the toothpicks.

She was in the monster’s lair, and all she had were toothpicks.

Mark arrived just in time to see the two girls get into the cab, then watch Stephan put his arm around Lauren and lead her toward the house.

He held still, desperate to control himself; if he wanted to save her, he couldn’t behave rashly. That was what Stephan was counting on. If he played his hand too quickly, he would lose.

He had to be careful not to betray himself; he didn’t want Stephan’s goons knowing he was there. He had to get into the house.

As he waited, he got a look at the taxi driver and cursed silently.

The driver wasn’t really a man at all. Not in the customary sense of the word. Lauren had just sacrificed herself so that Heidi and Deanna could become a gourmet meal….

He cursed fate, but just as Stephan knew him, he knew Stephan. Mark waited.

Then he went after the cab.

She still had the cross, Lauren thought, but she didn’t dare touch it; she didn’t want Stephan to remember that she was wearing it around her neck. She prayed that when the ambulance had reached Susan, the woman had managed to speak and tell someone where Lauren had gone.

“Come in, come in,” Stephan said welcomingly, as if she had finally agreed to a date, and he meant to do his charming best to seduce her.

She entered the house. The glow inside came from candles set in holders on the floor. There was nothing else, not a stick of furniture, in sight.

But there were more shadows. The sound of whispering. The flutter of wings.

Suddenly the ceiling came alive. With a sinking heart, Lauren realized that at least twenty or thirty more vampires were hiding in the dark confines of the house.

“The basement is my real domain,” he told her. “I think you’ll find it quite inviting.”

“Really? I find a beach in bright sunlight inviting, actually,” she told him.

He smiled at that. “You’ll see.”

He waved his hand, and the empty room seemed to come to life as shadows dropped to the floor and fluttering wings became feet against hard wood.

“Go,” Stephan said.

And they all began to move, taking up defensive positions outside.

“Downstairs,” Stephan invited her, opening a door. There was light coming from the basement—more candles, she thought.

She walked down the stairs. She would be alone with him down there, she thought. Maybe the chance to kill him would somehow arise.

And maybe he would cease teasing and playing; maybe his fangs would sink into her throat at any second.

She banished the thought and tried to focus on escape.

The instinct to survive was quiet incredible, she realized.

His basement had been turned into an elegant salon. There were comfortable sofas, and a pool table stood to one side, separated from the sitting area by support pillars. Music played softly from somewhere, and she saw a large screen television in one corner of the room. She wondered if he had a generator to provide power.

He led her to the sofa. She didn’t want to sit, but she could tell that he wasn’t going to give her a choice.

“Watch the screen.”

“No.”

“You are afraid.”

She refused to answer and looked deliberately away from the screen, so he simply caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to watch as a portrait came into focus.

It was as if she were staring at herself. “You must understand. She was mine, always mine. I watched Katya when she was a child. I watched her grow. I was the one in love with her. Then…she came here.”

The French Quarter appeared on the screen in a series of old photographs. There were no cars, no taxis. No neon lights.

The roads were dirt. Carriages were traversing them. Men and women in nineteenth century costume were walking past shops, gentlemen tipping their hats to the ladies….

And there she was.

Except that it wasn’t her. It was another woman. Katya. And there was Mark His hair was longer; he had sideburns. He was laughing, showing the woman something in a store window. They were walking, her hand, delicately encased in a white gloves, on his arm.

The scene changed. They were in a castle, a fire burning in the hearth. There was a daybed, covered in fur.

And the woman…

Katya.

Katya was on the daybed with a man who looked like Stephan. They were together, naked, making love….

Lauren gazed at the image in horror.

She was stunned when the screen suddenly went blank and a rough, angry voice said forcefully, “Actually, that’s not how it happened at all.”

She turned to the stairs, her heart leaping. Mark was there, and he wasn’t alone. Heidi and Deanna were behind him.

“See!” Stephan cried as he stood, and smiled triumphantly. “He is the evil one. I sent your friends to safety, but he has made them his creatures.”

Mark continued down the stairway, followed by the women. They still seemed to be acting like zombies, Lauren thought.

“Tell her the truth, Mark, or don’t you dare?” Stephan asked mockingly.

“The truth? Why don’t you tell the truth for once? You never intended to free her friends. You sent them off with one of your lackeys as a reward for serving you.”

Lauren hadn’t realized that Mark was holding something behind his back until he tossed it down before Stephan, and then, even after everything she’d seen, she cried out.

It was the taxi driver’s severed head.

Stephan ignored the gory trophy and looked at Mark. “She’s mine now. Just as Katya was mine.”

“Katya was yours because you used the evil power that fuels your existence to seduce her. She was never with you willingly. And you could never bear the fact that she came back to me.”

Stephan turned to Lauren. “I didn’t kill Katya.”

She was torn, unsure what to believe. She knew for a fact that Mark hadn’t told her the truth, or at least not all of it. Then the moment passed as she realized what must have happened all those years ago, at the same time wondering why Mark didn’t seem to understand that they were in grave peril, that neither Heidi nor Deanna would be any help in a fight. That in fact they would probably try to kill him.

She spoke softly when she finally responded to Stephan. “I know that Mark’s father killed Katya. Because he knew she was a vampire. He might have even known that she had, in turn, made Mark a vampire. But you caused her death. You killed her. Because you made her a vampire. It was the only way you could win her. Maybe at first you did try simply to get to her to care about you…for you. But you failed. So you tainted her, and then you murdered her, made her just like you. Except she wasn’t like you, because when she came back to life, she still despised you. And she went back to Mark. And he loved her, was willing to love her…no matter what.”

Stephan let out something like a snarl, staring at her, and she had to fight not to tremble. He was close, so close. She could be dead in seconds.

“The real truth is this—I have the power, the greatest power.”

“You don’t know what real power is, Stephan,” Mark charged him.

“The only question now is who to kill first,” Stephan said softy.

Then he lunged. Faster than light. Lauren shrieked, certain his fangs would rip into her at any second.

But just when she thought there was no hope, that no one could save her, the room seemed to explode. Darkness burst between them like the beating of a massive wing. But it wasn’t darkness, it was Mark. He struck out at Stephan, and the force of his blow sent the other man flying across the room. For a second Lauren felt a sense of sheer triumph, but it was quickly gone, because Stephan was up in a flash.

Worse, howling like a pair of banshees, Heidi and Deanna came flying across the room, and while Stephan and Mark were locked in a vicious struggle, Lauren was left to face her two best friends, both of whom seemed intent on killing her. Heidi was so tiny that Lauren was able to shove her away with a swift push. Deanna, however, was tall. And strong. And she had her fingers around Lauren’s throat and was squeezing tightly.

Lauren fumbled desperately in her pocket and found the toothpicks. She managed to get her fingers around one and jab Deanna forcefully in the rib cage.

To her amazement, the hands around her throat relaxed.

When Heidi moved, Lauren jabbed her again. A toothpick in each hand, she managed to rise and face the two of them, her eyes searching the room to see where Stephan had dropped her water pistol.

She saw it and managed to grab it—then shot both her friends. Crying out, they ran to a corner of the room, and huddled together, arm in arm, staring at her as if she were a creature from hell.

She spun around. Mark and Stephan were still fighting bitterly, the battle so frenzied that they were literally flying around the room. Stephan clung to the rafters, trying to kick Mark when he sprang for him. There was a burst of power so great that the whole house shook when Mark dodged Stephan’s maneuver and slammed into the other man.

Darkness shadow the room in tandem with a blast of hot air as Stephan fought back.

Lauren decided she must be going mad, because she thought she saw wings, thought she saw wolves, golden eyes gleaming, canines dripping, fur flying….

She sensed someone behind her and spun around.

Deanna had found her courage and was getting ready to reach for her, to attempt throttle her once again.

She didn’t have to defend herself, because before Deanna touched her, someone else came hurtling into the room.

Jonas.

“Deanna!” he shouted, and Deanna froze.

Suiddenly Lauren felt hands clutch her from behind and whirl her around.

Stephan.

He opened his mouth, and she saw his fangs. They seemed to gleam, and they were almost on her. Then he was ripped away from her, as something huge and black exploded in the room.

For a split second there was an blinding flash of light, and in its brilliance she saw Mark grasp Stephan and force the other man to his knees, his hands tight on Stephan ‘s head.

Mark twisted…and here was another explosion.

The explosion was Stephan.

Lauren choked and coughed and staggered back.

As the dust began to clear, she saw Mark, flesh bloodied, body torn, standing there.

Then he crumpled to the ground.

She raced over to him and dropped to her knees. Blood was oozing from wounds on his arms, on his forehead. She used the tail of her shirt and dabbed at the blood. She was barely aware of Deanna speaking nearby.

“Where the hell are we?” Deanna asked, confused. And then, “Jonas!”

But Jonas was already hurrying to Lauren’s side. He knelt down by her.

“He’s going to die!” she cried.

Jonassqueezed her hand reassuringly. “No he’s not. He’s going to be all right. See? He’s healing already.”

Lauren stood and drew away from Jonas.

“How did you get in here? How did he get in here? There were dozens of…them outside. But you…you’re both just like them, aren’t you?”

Jonas stood up and looked down at her. “Yes, I’m a vampire,” he admitted. “But I’m not like them. What do I have to do to prove myself?”

There was a groan from the floor. Mark.

Lauren fell back to her knees and helped him to sit up, then stared in amazement. The wound on his forehead already seemed smaller, and he was no longer oozing blood.

She stared at him.

He winced, lowering his head. “I should have told you the truth right from the beginning. I just…I just…There was so much you had to accept and understand first….”

She drew back. “We’re still in danger. There were at least a dozen vampires out there.”

“It’s safe,” Jonas said.

“I don’t believe you,” Lauren said. She was scared. No, not just scared—terrified. Shaking. And that made her angry.

She was so grateful that he was alive,

But she had just watched him twist off a man’s head like a bottle cap. No, not a man’s head. A vampire’s head.

An evil vampire’s head.

Jonas let out a groan of impatience, reached for her water pistol and thrust it toward her. “Go ahead. Shoot me.”

When she just stared at him, horrified, he turned the pistol toward his chest and pulled the trigger himself.

Deanna screamed.

Nothing happened, except that. Jonas got wet.

He turned the gun on Mark and shot him. In the face. Mark started, then stared at him with a fierce scowl. “Come outside,” he told Lauren firmly.

He got to his feet without asking for help and he strode toward the stairs.

Deanna gave Lauren a distrustful glance. Even Heidi shuddered as she walked by.

With little choice, Lauren followed Mark

The room above was empty. It was dark, the candles out, but it didn’t matter. She could feel that it was empty.

She followed him out into the night.

The moon was no longer shadowed and red. It was a huge, glowing orb in the heavens, casting a gentle glow.

Then she looked around and was amazed by the sight that met her eyes.

There was Big Jim, a huge wooden lance in one hands, the tip dripping blood, and a machete in his other hand.

And there was Stacey, armed with a mega-water pistol, like the Uzi of squirt toys.

Sean was there, and Maggie, and Bobby and the cop who had been watching over Deanna when she had first gone into the hospital.

To her amazement, there was also an older black woman there, carrying a huge cross and a machete, and flanked by a handsome black man and a stunning young black woman. Lauren realized that she had seen the younger woman before, at the hospital. She was Deanna’s nurse, the one who had gone mad, although she seemed to be just fine now.

The older woman stepped forward. “It’s over, then?” she asked Mark.

He reached out, drawing her to him. “It’s over, Ms. Lockwood. Thank you.”

“I told you I knew what I was up against,” the woman told him, drawing away and shaking a finger at him. “You’ve just got to have a little more faith in folks, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mark looked at Sean. “How are you going to explain this one?” he asked.

Lauren took a good look around the yard and gasped.

There were dust piles and soot streaks everywhere.

There were also bones, and a fresh headless body. She winced.

“I think it’ll poetic justice if we pin it on the taxi driver,” Sean said. “Though I’ll have to think about how to explain him ending up without a head.”

“Really, Sean,” Maggie protested. “Sometimes you can be so…”

Sean sighed. “Maggie, his ID is false. The guy’s real name was Wayne Girard. He was found guilty of twenty-seven murders, then escaped—I’m sure with our pal Stephan’s help. I’ll have some fast talking to do, but he can take the blame.”

Lauren walked over to Maggie and Sean, and everyone from Montresse House. They all hugged her—hard.

“Cop by day, vampire hunter by night,” Bobby said lightly, winking.

“You all need to get the hell out of here,” Sean said. “Except for you, Bobby, Mr. Fearless Vampire Hunter. You get to stay and help me clean this mess up. More cars are on the way,” he said quietly.

His wife gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and headed for her car. By then the others had come up from the basement, and Mark beckoned the two women closer.

“You three,” he said, including Lauren, “go with Maggie. Jonas and I will get back on our own.”

“Jonas…” Deanna murmured.

“Jonas will be fine,” Maggie called. “Get in the car. Come on. It will be much easier for Sean and Bobby if we get out of here.”

Deanna exchanged one last long kiss with Jonas before Maggie sighed and grabbed her arm, almost throwing her in the car.

As they drove away, Lauren looked back. Mark and Jonas were still there with Sean and Bobby. Maybe they meant to help with the clean up. But how would they explain their presence when the rest of the cops got there?

“What will the other cops say when they see Mark and Jonas?” Deanna asked worriedly.

“They won’t,” Maggie said.

“They’ll fly back,” Heidi said cheerfully

Lauren waited for Maggie to correct her.

She didn’t.

It was over, Mark thought

By the time he returned to Montresse House, it was very late and the house was quiet.

He spent a long time showering, and as he tried to wash away more than just the soot—seeking to dispel the hatred and bitterness that had ruled him for so long—he kept telling himself that it was over. Really over. Stephan was dead.

But he felt hollow. Drained.

When he stepped out of the shower, he saw that he was just about healed already. The outside didn’t matter, though.

He felt as if hid insides were all torn apart.

He should have told her.

But he hadn’t been honest and she’d found out on her own, and. now he’d lost her.

No, he’d never really had her.

He lay down in bed, glad that he could open the doors to the balcony and feel the soft breeze wash over him. Maybe when he closed his eyes he would no longer dream.

No longer see her walking toward him, all in white. See her smile.

Katya had loved him, trusted him enough to tell him the truth about what had happened. And though he hadn’t believed her at first, he had believed in her. He had fought with Stephan over what he had done to her, and it had been who had turned him. It was something Stephan had relished…until he had realized that it didn’t matter to the two of them. They would have their wedding, and they would have it in a church. When she had been vulnerable and unaware, Stephan had been able to hypnotize Katya. But not after she had realized what he was and what he was doing. She’d had a will of steel.

But his father…

God, his father! So strong, so loving, so proud. He’d told Mark what had happening, but Mark had never imagined his father would so willingly give up his own life to slay Mark’s intended bride. He hadn’t known that his son had been turned as well, or that there were ways to fight the evil nature of their new way of being.

So what now? Mark asked himself. Now that it was over.

Lauren would leave. She wopuld be going home with Heidi, though Deanna…

There was no question. She was staying.

With Jonas, who had turned out to be the real deal.

He closed his eyes; he needed to sleep. Needed to stop tormenting himself.

He froze suddenly, aware that his door had opened. He carefully opened one eye.

Lauren was walking toward the bed. Softly, silently. She smelled of soap and shampoo and simple sweetness. She was wearing a white silky nightgown, her hair like a sunset against it.

She paused, then lay down at his side and rose up on one elbow, staring at him.

“There will be no more keeping the truth from me—the absolute, complete and total truth—ever again,” she told him.

He opened his eyes. She had sounded so fierce, but there was a slight smile curving her lips.

“Lauren…”

“Shut up and listen. I thought I’d never been more afraid in my life than when I first got out there tonight. But then…I thought I had lost you, and it was a fear that was ten times more terrible. So here’s the thing. Don’t protect my feelings. Even if I’m going to be angry.”

“I was, er, actually a little worried about you being more than angry if I told you the truth about myself,” he said softly.

“I admit it. At one point I might have been afraid of you. But now…I think we’ve gotten to know each other really well, even if it’s been in a short but very intense amount of time.”

He smiled, then turned on her fiercely. “What part about me telling you to stay in this house didn’t you understand?” he demanded.

“I had to go,” she protested.

“Not without telling me.”

“But you might have stopped me,” she said.

“Damn right.”

She smiled, and her lashes fell; then her eyes rose to meet his again. “Seriously, Deanna and Heidi…I couldn’t risk their lives. We still don’t know if Susan is going to make it or not.”

“I believe she will,” he said firmly.

“The point is—” she began.

“The point is that you don’t listen,” he teased her.

“The point is that from now on I always get the truth from you,” she told him.

“Because intelligent people believe in vampires?” he asked wryly.

“When they can’t help but see what’s happening,” she told him softly.

“From now on, will you swear to tell me before you run off trying to save anyone? And will you have faith in me?” he demanded.

“Yes,” she said. And then she touched his face, leaned closer to him and spoke against his lips. “Now…hold me, please. Because I don’t care who—or should I say what?—you are. I have never known love like this before. So…please, show me that you feel the same way.”

He did.

And the hollowness was gone.

He was whole, as he had never thought he could be again.

Epilogue

I t was the most gorgeous wedding. The church was filled with flowers in dozens of colors. A royal blue runner ran down the aisle and out through the church doors.

There were old friends in attendance.

And new ones.

The groom was handsome, tall and dark.

The bride was far more than beautiful. Her happiness literally glowed.

She entered to the strains of a beautiful love ballad.

“That’s gorgeous,” Deanna whispered to Heidi where they stood waiting at the altar.

“He wrote it,” Heidi whispered back.

Lauren kept walking down the aisle on the arm of Big Jim, who was giving her away. He wore a smile broader than Texas as he handed her over to the groom.

The vows were as beautiful as the song that had accompanied the bride’s progress. Mark and Lauren had written their vows themselves. Not everyone in attendance fully understood them, but many there did. The promise to love through eternity, come what may. The vow that love was undying. The usual words in some ways…dramatically different in others.

They left the church in a rain of rice and cheers.

The reception was held on the grounds of Montresse House, where the smells of barbecue and gumbo fought for dominance. As afternoon turned to evening, Big Jim’s band jammed, and the groom even joined them for a while, until he saw his bride watching him with something private in her eyes.

Then he was done playing. He left the stage and walked over to her.

“The truth, the whole truth,” he told her, “is that I love you.”

She laughed and said, “I would never doubt you.”

The moon glowed down, and it seemed as if they were dancing on brilliant white clouds and that they would do so forever.

Perhaps some things were eternal.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-0256-0

BLOOD RED

Copyright © 2007 by Heather Graham Pozzessere.

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