Wade dropped his backpack and stood looking around the glade. The late afternoon sun slanted through the pine trees to spotlight soft green ferns. In the still quiet, the murmur of the stream rushing past the campsite and the mingled song of several birds, counter-pointed by the high bright voice of another, seemed almost deafening. Wade looked up into the forest canopy, trying to spot the songster. He couldn’t, but neither could he get rid of the feeling that something was watching. Then he heard the chattering scold of a squirrel and spotted him, staring down from a tree branch, gray tail twitching. Wade smiled and let the woods fill him with the peace and sense of belonging he always got when he went camping.

"Wow, what a great spot!" Mike exclaimed, effectively silencing the sounds of the woods.

For an instant, Wade resented the intrusion, then he turned to his friend. "I told you it was. My dad and I used to come here a lot, but we haven’t been here since Mount St. Helen’s erupted last year." Wade looked around. The Santiam Wilderness, seventy-five miles south of Portland, had been too far from the eruption to get more than a light dusting of ash. The woods looked as he had always remembered them--rich with that fresh, May spring green.

It had been Mike’s idea to go camping to celebrate Wade’s birthday. Just the guys--Mike and his big brother, Josh, who was twenty-one and supposedly a responsible adult. A weekend alone in the woods. Mike planned it for weeks. No, they had planned it. The only thing better would have been to bring a couple of chicks, but they had a hard enough time convincing Wade’s parents they were old enough to go camping on their own to even tackle the girl thing. But he was old enough, an adult. Next month, when school ended, he would graduate, class of 1981. If he was still going to his old school, graduation would have meant something, but he had been going to school in Portland for less than a year. He felt lost among a class of seniors larger than all the students from his old high school put together. Mike, who lived in the same apartment complex, was his first, and sometimes Wade felt, his only friend in Portland.

Josh straggled in, unloaded his pack, and collapsed onto the ground, back against a log. "You guys didn’t tell me it was going to be such a hike."

Josh had quit school at sixteen, had a child he never saw or cared to see, and worked as a gas jockey. He’d been recruited to give the trip the appearance of adult supervision. Mike had laughed and said it was a good thing that Wade’s parents really didn’t know his brother.

"Hey," Mike said, "let’s go skinny dipping."

"That water’s like ice," Wade protested.

"Yeah, I know. I like it when my balls pull up so tight, they like disappear. Come on. It’s time that you started to live."

Wade laughed and started pulling off his jacket. "Race you." Both boys ran, leaving clothes in a scattered path across the rocky bank. At the stream’s edge, Wade pulled off his hiking boots and pants. "Follow me." He leaped naked onto a large rock, then rock-hopped across the stream to the fishing hole, a spot where the stream had scoured out a deep pool. The water was smooth and dark. They stood staring into the depths, the sun hot against their naked bodies.

"Now!"

They jumped into the water together. There was a great splash, and both boys screamed, half with the abrupt shock of the cold and half with glee. They splashed each other. Mike tried to push Wade’s head under, but Wade flipped him off and climbed, shivering, onto the rock. He reached out his hand and pulled Mike up. They lay shivering, trying to soak up warmth from the sun and the stone.

"This is the life," Mike said. "I’d stay here forever if I could."

"Not me," Wade replied. "I got dreams. I’m going into the army when I graduate, or maybe the navy. I want to learn to take care of myself. I don’t want to spend my life in one place."

"What about Wanda?"

Wade laughed. "You mean Want’ta Wanda?"

"Yeah." Mike licked his lips. "She’s really got the hots for you. She wants to get in those pants of yours and see what you got." Mike made a close inspection. "Not that it’s much."

Wade laughed and made a mock grab for Mike’s genitals. "Yours ain’t any bigger."

"But it gets bigger, much bigger."

"Well, so does mine, when it’s not cold and lonely," said Wade.

"The only friend yours has is your hand," Mike shot back.

"I’m saving myself for the right girl."

"Man, if I had your looks, I’d have so many chicks."

Wade found it hard to think of himself as good looking, but more than one girl had told him so. They liked his black hair. Once, a girl told him it was so thick and shiny, so soft looking that it just begged to have a girl’s fingers run through it. But most of all they liked his eyes. His mother called his eyes bedroom eyes and told him they’d get him into trouble if he wasn’t careful.

Wade supposed he should have done "it" before now. He’d had chances. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken them, except, maybe, his mother and father. They were happily married, about the only parents he knew who had never been divorced. When he was thirteen, he and his dad had that "father-son" talk. His father told him how his mother had been a virgin, but he hadn’t, and how much he regretted it.

"When you find the right person," his father said, "it’s so much better, it’s worth the wait." His dad had gotten the silliest grin on his face after that. He had even blushed. Wade had known it wasn’t just something his father felt he had to say. The regret was real when his father warned him not to let his friends tease him into doing "it."

He knew his parents expected him to wait, but it was also the fact that the only girls who seemed to go for him were like Want’ta Wanda. He couldn’t imagine going through life remembering her as his first. He really liked Sue. She was petite, blonde, and on the cheerleading squad, but she was also already going steady with the captain of the football team.

He flipped over on his stomach to let the last afternoon rays warm his back. "You want to go in again?"

"No way!" Mike said. "I’m still shivering."

Wade looked over the edge of the rock into the stream. "Too bad we scared away all the fish. I could’ve caught dinner."

"Really?"

"Sure. My dad and I do it all the time. Let’s go back. I’m getting hungry, and we have to make camp before it gets dark."

They put on their pants and boots, picked up the rest of their clothes, and made their way back up the shale to the camp. Josh sat just where they had left him, although now he had a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.

Mike grabbed the beer out of his brother’s hand and took a big swallow, then passed the can to Wade. Wade hesitated for a moment, then took a drink.

Previous campers had built a nice fire pit, even left some firewood behind, but Wade gathered more. It was still May, and the woods would be cold tonight. They hadn’t brought a tent, only sleeping bags. They were roughing it, this time.

Later, as they sat around the roaring fire, Wade wasn’t surprised that Josh had complained about the hike. He had two six-packs of beer and a bottle of tequila in his backpack. After they finished dinner, Josh produced a joint of marijuana, which he generously shared. Almost solemnly, they passed the joint around. Wade took the can of beer Mike handed him. He thought about what his dad would say if he knew about the beer and the marijuana. Wade had already heard the lecture on the dangers of drugs, but marijuana didn’t do anything more than give him a gentle buzz. He wondered what was so bad about that.

"Hey, what’s that?" Mike demanded. "Did you hear something?"

Wade shook his head. "It’s probably just an animal. You know the woods are full of them. They live here."

"Oh, sure."

"Or maybe it’s the demon," Wade said, getting into the spirit of the darkness and the roaring campfire.

"The demon?"

"Yeah, didn’t I tell you? About three years ago, a young couple came out here to camp. I’m not sure, this might even be the very spot where they pitched their tent. Then something happened. No one knows for sure, cause they didn’t find their bodies for a long time and what was left wasn’t pretty. Most people say the demon got them."

"Yeah, sure," Mike said scornfully.

"No, it’s true. People have seen the demon for years. Red glowing eyes peering out of the darkness. Sometimes they hear it growl. Others, they say they’ve heard it howl when it makes its kill. Some people say it’s just an old wolf or a mountain lion, but others, they say it’s human, but not human. What’s really scary--this guy told me, he said it was a suc--suc-something, I can’t remember the word. Anyway, it’s a demon who appears in the shape of a beautiful woman. She seduces you and then kills you."

"I wouldn’t mind if she was pretty enough. Would you, Wade?"

"Yes, I would. I don’t want to die. Not yet."

They were quiet for a while.

Mike started. "There! I saw something."

Wade looked where Mike was pointing and saw nothing.

"Red glowing eyes," said Mike.

"Sure you did," Wade answered sarcastically, certain Mike was just trying to scare him.

"Yeah, I did. Josh, did you see that?"

Josh looked around, his eyes glazed, "What’d you say?"

"He wouldn’t know if the demon came up and bit him, he’s so out of it," Wade said, with a laugh.

Mike kept staring out into the woods, nervously jerking his head from side to side trying to see all around him.

"Come on, Mike, it was probably just a raccoon. Their eyes glow when light hits them, just like a cat or a dog. Relax."

"What if it’s the demon?"

Now Wade really laughed. "That’s just a story. Me and my dad have been coming here for years. Never saw any demons. A skunk or two, a raccoon, but demons, no. Relax, man."

Mike lay back against the log. "I know I’m being silly, but I can’t help feeling we’re being watched. I don’t know why, but it just feels that way."

It felt that way to Wade, too, but he wasn’t about to admit it. It was just Mike’s nerves. An animal, nothing more. "What’s your favorite movie monster? Frankenstein or Dracula?"

"Frankenstein? Dracula? That’s kid stuff. Nothing scary about vampires. That last Dracula movie, that Langella guy, ugh, all mush and lovey-dovey. My mother actually likes Love at First Bite. Vampires--no way! Now if you want to be really scared, Friday the 13^th Part 2 is opening next week."

"With an R rating, my folks won’t let me see it."

Mike grinned. "Hey, you’re eighteen. They can’t stop you."

"Right!" Wade returned the grin.

"Did you hear that?" Mike sat up and looked around. "I could’ve sworn I heard someone call my name."

Wade laughed. "I’m not going to fall for that. You’re just trying to scare me."

"Wade." It was a whisper, almost a sigh of the wind. Wade wasn’t even sure he had heard it. The sound came again. "Wade." He looked at Mike, then realized the sound had come from behind him, not from Mike.

Mike pointed. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came. Wade turned. Something stood in the dark shadow of the trees, only glimpsed in the flickering firelight, except for the glowing red eyes. Eyes too high off the ground to be a raccoon. Wade scrambled to his feet and backed away until he ran into Mike, now also standing.

"What’s the matter with you guys?" Josh asked drunkenly, looking around.

It stepped from the shadows into the firelight, short, maybe five foot four inches, and female, although that was only an impression. All that was really visible in the firelight was a white face surrounded by black. The eyes stopped glowing red and became black, piercing, hypnotizing. Scarlet lips were a slash across the white face.

"Oh, Wade." The soft voice was lyrical and seductive. The mouth smiled, red lips stretched back and parted, and Wade saw sharp, pointed fangs. A pink tongue licked lips hungrily. "Come here, Wade."

Wade’s heart raced with fear. Something inside him wanted to obey her command, yet he couldn’t move.

Two others emerged from the shadows. Taller than she. Ordinary. A white man with dark hair, wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans, and a skinny black man, young, wearing an Oregon University sweatshirt and black pants. Ordinary, except their lips curled back in hungry grins over long fangs.

Then the white one fell on Josh.

Josh’s bewildered "What’s up" changed to a scream.

Mike grabbed Wade’s arm. "Run, man, run."

Wade ran.

He heard the tinkle of laughter behind him. Then he was out into the darkness, blinded, stumbling, running. He hit the stream, his feet splashing in the cold water, and he turned and ran along the stream bank. He heard Mike stumbling after him; at least he hoped it was Mike. What were those things? What were they doing to Josh? Josh! He should go back, but he kept running.

"Oh, Wade," the voice called. Close to his left. Wade ran harder.

He heard Mike fall and cry out and turned to go back. It was there, in front of him, the white face.

"Run, Wade," it said. Wade turned and ran, leaving Mike behind.

A branch whipped his face, stinging, making his eyes water in pain. Now he really was running blind. He wiped his sleeve across his eyes trying to clear them. He took a deep breath. The trail, the trail that led back to the road. If he could find that and go for help. He took another deep breath and stood still, trying to get his bearings, but in the darkness, it all looked so unfamiliar. He knew the trail went down the mountain to the road, so if he followed the slope downward, maybe he would cross the trail. He pushed through the bushes, hurrying, tripping over rocks and stumps.

"Oh, Wade," the voice called. "I’m coming for you."

Wade’s whole body trembled with fear. He tripped over a log and fell hard, knocking the breath out of him. He gasped for air. He knew he had to get up, to run, but he couldn’t make himself. Then he knew it was too late. It--she was there.

Touching him.

He tried to roll away, but she followed, straddled him. "Be still, I won’t hurt you," the voice said. He couldn’t see the fangs, only the suggestive blur of her white face in the darkness. He felt her touch, stroking his cheek. "Relax. Don’t be afraid. Just come with me quietly. Everything will be all right. I promise you."

A scream sounded through the woods, full of fear and anguish. He knew the voice. Mike’s voice. Mike’s death cry.

He pushed the thing off of him and struggled to his feet. She grabbed his arm. He tried to break away, but the creature’s grip was too strong. She slapped him, so hard he saw stars, the pain radiated up his jaw.

"Enough fun and games, boy. I’m tired of the hunt." She yanked him by the arm. He tried to dig in his heels. She slapped him again. He tasted his own blood from a split lip. "Behave yourself," she commanded. "Or I will be forced to punish you." He could see her dark lips move and knew she was smiling. She dragged him after her; the hand encircling his wrist imprisoned him like an iron manacle. Though she was a good six inches shorter than he was, he felt as though he was no more than a small child being dragged by his angry mother. He was so afraid of that anger.

She pulled him back to the campsite, into the firelight.

The other creature hunched over Josh. He looked up. Blood covered his white face and spotted the bright red of his flannel shirt with a darker red. When the creature stood, Wade looked down at what had been Josh. His white tee shirt was soaked in red, above that, what had been a throat was torn open, red flesh, gaping like an obscene mouth. Josh’s own mouth was open in a silent scream. His eyes stared--vacant, dead eyes. Wade bent over and vomited. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop himself. He knelt on the ground and puked his insides out. The acids burned his mouth, the taste sour. He gagged as he began to have the dry heaves, having no more to give.

Hands pulled him up, lifting him by his collar, holding him so his feet barely touched the ground. He stared into demonic eyes, hungry eyes.

"Wolf," she commanded. "Let him go. He’s mine."

Wolf licked his lips hungrily. Wade stared at the fangs, sharp, thin, pointed fangs that sprang from high in the gums, over other teeth, between the canines. Needle sharp. Ready to pierce his neck.

She had her hand on Wolf’s arm. "You shouldn’t have bolted your dinner, you bad boy. Let him go. He’s mine, Wolf!"

Wolf let go and stepped back, hanging his head like a dog, which had disobeyed its master. "Yes, Cassandra."

Wade wasn’t sure his legs would support him, but her hand gripped his arm and held him up. Her free hand caressed him. "Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. You’re mine now."

For the first time, Wade got a good look at her. Hooded deep dark-brown, almost black eyes grabbed and held his attention. The face was smooth and wrinkle free, although if he’d been asked to guess, he would have called her middle-aged. The wide mouth distended by the fangs. Not the distorted, evil monster face of the movies, yet a frightening face--cold, predatory, inhuman.

The other one came into the firelight. "Panther, how was it?" she asked.

The one she called Wolf was, maybe, thirty-five. The other one, Panther, was in his early twenties, a black man, with deep dark black-black skin. Wade couldn’t see any blood against the black skin, but Panther was licking his fingers clean.

"Oh, Cassandra." He looked at her with eyes of adoration. "His blood was so hot and sweet. And he was so frightened. So very frightened."

Wolf laughed. "This one was too stoned to be frightened." He laughed again. "I think I’m drunk."

"That happens," the woman said. "Now, be good little boys, and let’s go home."

Panther looked at Wade. "What about him?"

"He’s mine. You will not touch him. Do you understand?"

Panther looked at her. "You’re going to keep him, aren’t you?"

"Yes."

"But Cassandra," Panther whined.

She patted his cheek. "Don’t worry. I will still love my Panther, but I’m bored. You wouldn’t deny me a new play toy?"

Panther looked at Wade, a look so full of jealous anger and hatred that Wade found himself trembling.

As Cassandra pulled Wade out into the darkness, Wade glanced back at Josh, lying dead beside the campfire. Somewhere in the woods, Mike lay dead.

"Where are you taking me?" Wade asked. No one answered.

~*~

Wade followed Cassandra blindly through the darkness, tripping and stumbling, her hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, his only guide. None of the three stumbled, but walked confidently through the night. They were climbing now, a narrow trail, no more than a track. Then they rounded a rock and slipped behind it. What little illumination the stars had provided was gone, and he was in the cold, dank darkness of a cave. The perfect black, black. Still, they moved unerringly. Finally, a grating sound, stone against stone, and a dim light appeared as a door opened and they entered a tunnel lit by a smoky torch.

Wade looked back as he was pulled down the tunnel and saw the door sealing itself. Irregular, jagged-edged like rock. A secret entrance, into where?

A second door, this one heavy wood, banded with metal, then they were inside a building. Plastered walls, tile floors. Oil lamps, hung from an arched ceiling, cast a soft yellow glow.

"Now, boys," Cassandra said, "Go entertain yourselves. I want to get to know our guest better."

Wolf grabbed Panther’s arm and started pulling him down the corridor. Panther went unwillingly, his eyes pinning Wade with hatred.

"Don’t mind Panther," Cassandra said, as she led Wade in the opposite direction. "He used to be my favorite, but he’ll get used to it." She opened a door and pulled him in. "Welcome to my lair, Wade. I know you’re going to enjoy your stay."

Wade felt like Alice in Wonderland having fallen down the rabbit’s hole. Or perhaps he had gone back in time. Candles and a fire lighted a room filled with Victorian furniture. He had an aunt who collected Victorian antiques, and there was enough here to make her very happy. The walls were draped in red brocade. Oil paintings hung from thick gold cords. The pictures were nudes, some women, some men, some of couples making love. Statues adorned pedestals and end tables, again nudes.

A man rose from placing a log on the fire. He wore a black, old-fashioned suit and looked like a butler, an old, gray-haired butler.

"Mistress, was it a pleasant evening?"

"Yes, Stanos, a very pleasant evening."

Stanos looked at Wade and smiled. "I see the mistress has found something of interest."

"Yes. Didn’t I? Wade, wait here, I won’t be but a moment. I want to get out of these clothes and into something comfortable."

Wade looked at her. She wore black pants, a jacket, and high boots. Her hair was black and long, worn in a thick braid that hung over one shoulder. She smiled at him. There were no fangs. She looked human. Wade shook his head, had he only imagined the fangs? No, they had been real.

She left him with Stanos.

"Please, you have to help me," Wade pleaded.

The old man looked at him sternly. "I would suggest, young man, that you do everything possible to please the mistress, or you will not like the consequences."

Wade’s heart pounded. He shivered with fear and hopelessness. If he tried to escape, Wolf and Panther would get him. He was trapped. Even the blazing fire couldn’t warm the cold chill of fear. To keep himself from thinking about her and what she might do to him, he forced himself to look around the room.

Soon he became uncomfortably aware there was no place that he could look where there weren’t erotic statues or paintings. Not pornography. Not like the Playboy magazines the guys hid in their gym lockers. Old oils, old-fashioned women, plump and not particularly attractive, lying seductively on chaises or making love in a stylized countryside. The statues were anatomically correct, reminding him of the pictures of Greek statues in his history book. The beginnings of a boner shocked and disgusted him. He forced himself to stare into the flames of the fire and think of nothing.

He heard her return. Unable to help himself, he turned to look. She wore a black velvet dress that swept the floor; at her throat and cuffs were swirls of red lace. She had combed out her hair. It curled about her shoulders and down her back. She was attractive, in an old sort of way. He guessed she was his mother’s age.

She grabbed his hand. He tried to pull away, but her grip was too strong. She tugged him over to the sofa, pulling him down next to her.

Intense dark brown eyes captured his, holding him prisoner in their gaze. When he tried to look away, she grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at her, holding him still. He heard his heart pounding loud in his ears.

"You find me beautiful, don’t you Wade," she whispered. "Very beautiful."

Beautiful. Yes, she was very beautiful.

"You want to be with me, don’t you Wade! To stay with me!"

Wade wasn’t sure what had happened. The fear he had felt was gone. No, not gone, suppressed. He felt heavy, tired, unable to move. But why should he want to move? He wanted to be with her, to stay with her. She let go of his face.

She looked down at the hand she held. "My poor boy, you’ve injured yourself." She gently licked away the blood from a gash. She had Stanos bring a basin of water and she began to wash away the dirt and clean Wade’s wounds. Where there was blood, she licked the skin clean then washed it.

"Your jacket is dirty and torn. Take it off. It is warm enough in here." Wade suddenly felt hot, the jacket too warm, so he took off his jacket.

She reached for the top button of his shirt. He wanted to stop her, but he couldn’t move. He could only stare into her dark eyes.

"Have you ever been with a woman?"

Wade stared at her, not comprehending what she was asking him. She unbuttoned another button on his shirt.

"Have you ever made love to a woman? Tell me the truth, Wade."

"No," he said.

She smiled. "Such a sweet boy you are." His shirt was unbuttoned. She pulled it off his shoulders and down his arms. "You ran so hard, you’re positively sweaty. Take off that tee-shirt."

He obeyed.

"But it was such a delicious chase." She stared at his naked chest, and he felt his cheeks grow hot. Taking the wet cloth, she began to wipe down his body, taking her time. He felt himself grow hard within the tight confines of his jeans. When she finished washing him, she looked down at his boots. "Bad boy," she scolded. "You’ve tracked mud on my beautiful carpet. Take those boots off and Stanos will take them away."

Wade unlaced the boots and took them off. Stanos carried them away as though they were something disgusting, shutting the door behind him, leaving them alone.

"When I saw you in the firelight," Cassandra said, stroking his bare chest, "I knew I had to have you."

She rose and pulled him to his feet. She smiled seductively. "Come, Wade, let me be your first, the first one to teach you about love." She pulled gently on his hand. Without will, he followed.

~*~

Wade groaned, his pleasure so intense he thought he might die. Never had he imagined that having sex could feel the way it did.

Cassandra bent her face to his neck and bit. He cried out against the sharp pain then shivered in delight as she began to suck. He felt himself engorging again, still inside her. His face was smothered in the heavy silkiness of her hair. Frenetically, his hands roved up and down the smooth skin of her back and arms.

Her sucking made him arch against her. There was a rhythm he had no will to resist until he exploded inside her. She too arched, lifting her face from his neck and crying out in pleasure.

She rolled off of him, licked his neck another time, and lay curled up next to him, her hand gently resting on his spent penis.

"You were absolutely wonderful, Wade."

Wade found himself touching Cassandra in awe. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and what she had done, what they had done...he felt himself grow hard beneath her gentle fondling.

"Oh, the resiliency of youth," she whispered, with a slight chuckle. "Well, my love, are you ready for your next lesson?" Without waiting for his answer, she began to teach him.

~*~

The city, smelling dirty and crowded, pressed against Donovan. He was alone in the dark street, yet felt the weight of all those lives that inhabited this place, their presence inescapable, hammering against his senses. He longed for the quiet of the clinic, the tranquility of life in Fillmore Grove, where all he had to do was climb the hill behind the clinic to slip away, to slip into the past.

He remembered the first time he had come here, to San Francisco. The flood of gold fever was ebbing, funneling waves of humanity back into the then tiny city. It had been the beginning of winter, and he had come out of the hills, down river on the crowded riverboat, his pockets heavy with gold. He had, as so many like him, never struck it rich, a nugget picked up here and there, a small claim soon cleared. Mostly his gold came from others, won at the gambling tables or earned by providing meat for miners too busy to hunt for themselves. As the snows came to the higher elevations, he found himself wealthy, for unlike most miners, he spent none of his gold on outrageously priced necessities or riotous living. He craved gold, not with the gold fever that burned in most, but as a means to an end.

He burned for knowledge and understanding. What was he? Why hadn’t he died from the Spanish bullet? Why had everyone at the Alamo died, except for him? Why had he become a monster? But more than understanding, he craved to once again be like other men--to be free of this curse.

He found hope in modern science that was finding cures for all sorts of diseases. With money, he could travel to Europe, seek out specialists, find a cure, and end his suffering. So he had set out to make himself rich, and he had found himself in San Francisco.

Its energy had been just as frenetic then as now. Not as many people, but after his years of isolation, it had been overwhelming. He found the temptation of all the beating hearts and the rich scent of blood too much to bear. He had almost fled in fear of himself and what he might do, when he had felt her pass by. A gaily laughing woman surrounded by men. She stopped, turned around, and came back.

She stood looking at him, and he knew she was like him.

"I’m Amanda."

"Donovan." His voice choked on the one word.

"It’s a pleasure to met you. Come, we will go to my place and visit."

The males around her grumbled.

She laughed. "He is a distant cousin, I’m sure."

Amanda had saved him. She told him what he was, a vampire. There was no cure, no end to the nightmare, but at least, he was no longer alone.

Now, Donovan studied the dark empty street in frustration. He knew what he sought must be hiding nearby, but where? Every second that passed moved the newborn closer to killing again. It would be tonight. The last body had been discovered three days ago. The newborn couldn’t resist the hunger another night. Donovan walked briskly down the street and turned into the next alley, searching all the time for that which had drawn Amanda to him--the sense of knowing when another of his kind was near. He kept moving. A dark shadow dressed in black. Hunting. Then he caught the trace of feeling, tingling at the edge of his consciousness. He stopped, stood absolutely still, trying to pinpoint the direction. In the distance, he heard something, too faint perhaps for normal hearing, but he heard a fearful whimpering, then a metallic noise, maybe a trash-can falling. He ran toward the sounds, running hard, knowing he was already too late to stop what was happening.

The newborn had an old woman down on the ground behind a garbage dumpster. He crouched over her, his teeth sunk into her throat.

Donovan reached down and ripped the newborn from the woman and threw him hard against the brick wall. The newborn wore a white lab coat, filthy with dirt and blood, and pants he’d stolen from somewhere, or maybe they had been his own. Maybe he hadn’t walked out of the morgue naked. His face had been torn in the crash that killed him. Bones broken. It had healed in a fashion, solidified into the face of a nightmare monster.

Damn. This is going to be a hard one.

There was no intelligence in the eyes, only the blind blood lust, the overwhelming need to feed that had driven this creature out of the hole in which he had been hiding. Now he turned on Donovan, as any starving animal would, to protect what was his. Growling and snarling, he leaped.

Donovan put up an arm to protect himself and felt the newborn’s teeth sink into his flesh. The force of the charge knocked him backward, hard. His head hit the pavement. The newborn pinned him against the cold, damp concrete. Pain stabbed through him.