Warnings came too late for Damon's next prey. He found another empty cabin several miles up the mountainside, not too far off the highway. The utilities were on, which meant the owners would return eventually. He was on his guard, spending his days sleeping in the tight crawlspace built into the side of the house that served as a woodshed. It was half-full, so he moved the wood towards the front of the crawlspace, leaving just enough room to ease his way towards the back in case the owner came in to remove logs while he was sleeping.

He studied some of the books and magazines at this cabin as well, and deduced how to turn on the small appliance the mortals called "television." Most of the news shows were centered around bombings, fighting in countries that didn't even exist in his lifetime and some which had. These things did not bother him; he had survived conflicts and wars and battles for three hundred years. He was more interested in the huge numbers of humans that lived in the cities and towns across the country. He could slake his thirst in a thousand towns, and surely, he would find a mate amidst all these people. He needed a female desperately. He could feel the heat rising within him, baking him from within, the sexual need as strong as the desire for hot, human blood.

It was near his waking time the third full week of September when he heard a rattling of keys in the front lock of the cabin. He listened from his lair, sniffing the air. It was a man, alone. The man called on the telephone to someone.

"Hi, honey, I made it back safely. Yes, it was a long trip, with everything going on. Thank you so much for having me out for a visit. I'll call you in two weeks, just like always. Give my love to my grandkids. Bye, bye."

Damon left the crawlspace and waited around the side of the house until the elderly man came outside to haul in some logs for his fireplace. Then the vampire slipped inside the house, standing in the shadows until the old man re-entered his cabin. The man was laying the logs on the fireplace hearth when Damon attacked. It didn't take long for the man to die, he was old and frail, and not much sustenance, but he would do for now.

Damon buried the body in a shallow grave behind the cabin. No sense taking a chance on someone's dog finding body parts this close to the highway.

He settled into his new home, watching the television as it served him. He was disappointed by the lack of intelligent matter in the presentations and found the most interesting programs on a setting that did not interrupt the programs with those ridiculous ploys to entice people into buying their products. They had history and art, topics he valued throughout his existence.

Damon kept an eye on the calendar, mindful that he had two weeks in which to feed and grow more powerful before he had to head up to the museum. After three days, he realized that the small white vehicle that passed by on the road was the man who delivered the mail. Damon emptied the box each evening, idly shuffling through the old man's mail, opening items that appealed to his curiosity, studying the magazines that arrived.

By the last week in September, Damon was ready to enter into society once again. Hearing another logging truck rolling slowly past, he sped outside in the dusk and leaped with great agility onto the load, feeling the wind blow through his dark hair as he lay atop the stacked logs on its course down the highway. When the driver stopped at a gas station down in Damon's Canyon, the vampire slithered down the side of the truck and off into the darkness.

Damon was attracted by the neon lights and thudding beat of country western music at a nearby bar. He entered the establishment cautiously, scanning the room. The men were all dressed in blue jeans and boots (he would have to make a point of finding some cowboy boots someplace), and western-style button down shirts. They all had bottles or glasses in their hands, and they were all eyeing the women in the room. Making their choices of their own prey.

Damon studied the available women, considering some, discounting others. Even he, Damon Benyu, vampire, had standards. His eyes settled on a tall, buxom woman with welcoming hips who was sitting at the bar with female friends, openly eyeing the men from behind her cascade of long blonde hair. He sat next to her, smiling engagingly into her periwinkle blue eyes as he did so. She smiled back, and he could sense her attention had shifted to him.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked.

"I'll have a beer," Damon responded, "and please refill this young lady's glass with whatever she's having." He smiled again at the blonde, who tipped her glass in acknowledgment at him.

"What kinda beer?" The bartender rattled off a list of brand names.

Damon looked at the advertising signs for the numerous beers on the wall. He chose a name familiar from his distant past.

"You new around here, honey? I haven't seen you in here before," the blonde drawled.

"Actually, I'm moving back here. I lived here a very long time ago."

"Yeah, this place has a way of drawing people back, whether they want to or not. What do you do for a living?"

"I am an artist."

"That figures. There's hundreds of them around here. You came to the right place, honey." She swigged down her drink, which was a revolting shade of pink.

"Perhaps you would like to see my work sometime, " he offered politely.

The blonde laughed. "Boy, have I heard that line before. Going to show me your etchings, are you? Sure, why not. Right now, let's dance," she giggled, taking him by the hand and leading him to the crowded dance floor.

"My name's Gina, what's yours?" she yelled above the loud music into his ear.

He flinched, his acute hearing overwhelmed by her sharp voice. "Damon," he answered, trying to mimic the dance moves the others were making on the floor.

"Hey, just like the town. I'll bet you're some long-lost relative of old Damon Benyu himself," she exclaimed, her arms snaking around his waist and hips.

"You could say that," he said. The tempo faded to a slow song, and he pulled her close to his body as they danced. He held her pelvis close to his, and although he was incapable of having an erection at this time, the effect was magical upon Gina. She moved her hands all over his back, hot, hungry hands, and she pressed her luscious tits up against his chest.

Alas, he thought to himself, this was no churchgoing woman, but she would be delicious to savor and dine upon when the time came. He moved his hands to her ass, squeezing gently. She moaned a little against his neck and flicked a damp tongue into his ear.

They danced a few more songs, then she invited him back to her place. He followed her to the parking lot and she drove several blocks to a small apartment complex under a dismal veil of weeping willows.

"I'm a waitress," she said, noticing his hesitance. "This is about all I can afford for now. Someday I'll hit the lottery. Then I can move out of this crappy little mountain town."

Once they were in the door, Gina was all over him, trying to unbutton his shirt and unzip his pants.

"Slow down," he said in her ear. "Slow down. I want to relax you, I want to taste your juices first."

He eased her down onto her pull-out couch, pulling off her high heel shoes and her tight, high skirt. She was wearing a tiny cloth covering—he seemed to remember from the women's magazines they called it a thong--which he eased down her thighs. He stood up and removed his shirt and pants, laying them on a chair. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and it surprised Gina that he didn't have an erection. Most men she brought back here were steaming and ready to rut the minute they walked in the door. Must be a slow starter, she thought, unbuttoning her thin blouse and unsnapping her bra.

The man, Damon, laid on top of her, kissing her warmly and firmly on the lips. Damon had discovered breath mints and toothpaste, and so she wasn't put off by his breath as the miserable Carla had been. His skin was hot and dry, reminding her of her teenage summers when she had spent too many hours stretched out naked on the boulders along the river, soaking up the sun and the beer and the sweet kisses from all the sweet boys. He moved down to her generous breasts, sucking on the nipples, biting them gently with sharp teeth. Gina gasped and moaned. He mouthed his way down her belly, down to her blonde bush, to her damp lips. He stuck his tongue into her vagina and she moaned again. God, this was good. This boy has a tongue like a snake, she thought, enjoying the flickering manipulations of that organ.

"Oooh, come on, baby, eat me!" she cried out.

"I thought you'd never ask," the man uttered, then slid up her body to dine.

Tenants in the neighboring apartments would later tell police that they thought Gina had just picked herself up a really good lay from the bar that night, judging from all the screaming and moaning going on in her apartment. When they didn't see her for a couple of days, they figured she was just sleeping off a combination bender and overdone sexual coupling. When she didn't call in sick to work on Monday, her boss at the coffee shop got a little worried, but also figured she was sleeping one off as she had done in the past. Gina would get her pay docked and her ass chewed when she got back.

Her boss never had to worry about the ass-chewing; someone else had already gotten to that part. It wasn't until the other tenants noticed the rancid odor of rotting meat coming from the apartment that they got the manager to open the door and check on Gina. The manager, a wizened hen-like creature by the name of Doris, ran screaming from the girl's apartment and called Chief Mulavey, then stumbled back to her own apartment and broke out a fresh bottle of vodka.

Diana studied the body of Gina the waitress. She was sprawled face-up across her bed, her blond hair trailing on the floor. Diana took in the jagged tears along her body, her breasts, the ripping of the femoral artery in her thighs.

"He's going into a frenzy," she announced quietly to Seth, who was standing nearby, arms folded, face drawn and ashen.

"Gina might have been slutty, but she was a good gal, never hurt anybody. She was just always looking for a way out of town. I guess she found it. I still remember her as a teenager, when my Connie would have her to the house for sleep-overs. She'd talk about getting out of here and being a star down in Hollywood. She'll get her fifteen minutes of fame, but this isn't quite the way she planned on it."

"Did anybody see anything at the bar?" Diana circled the body.

"Just some big dark-haired guy in jeans hitting on her. Same routine as usual for Gina. It was too dark in there, no one got a good look at him, they were all too busy trying to score themselves. You know, we won't be able to keep this one quiet."

"I know that, Seth. How much detail do you have to release to the public?"

"Just general stuff, really. Guess we can tell them he slit her throat, it wouldn't be too far from the truth. And we can say he mutilated her, without going into detail how. We'd do that for any normal murder, if there's any such thing, just so we don't have any copycats and to make sure we've got the right guy."

"No sign of sexual activity. Just the bite marks and bruising on her breasts and thighs. No semen, no penetration."

Diana nodded, deep in thought. "He's still hunting for a mate. Gina was just dinner for him. If he's presentable, that means he's found place to stay. Did you get that warning out to the cabins up in the hills?"

"We're still working on it. There's a lot of ‘em up there, and we have limited resources."

"Well, he's up there someplace. I can feel it."

Three days later, Diana was staring at her computer screen, studying the tracking chart. There had been a week's gap between the death of Paul Ferguson and that of Gina the waitress. She typed in Gina's last name with a trace of sadness. Gina Bennett. Did anybody down in Damon's Canyon know her last name, or did they even care that she was somebody besides just "Gina the waitress"? The telephone rang.

"Diana, it's Seth. Some park rangers found Kevin Davis' car up in the Park. It was back along a real rugged back road. Looks like he might have wandered off to do some hiking."

"Any sign of Kevin?"

"Oh, yeah. They found his remains a couple of hundred yards away in a gully. Not a lot left, considering it's been over a month since he disappeared, and it looks like the animals have been at him."

"Any chance of me getting up there to see the scene?" Diana furiously typed in this information on her chart as she talked.

"Ah, I don't know. That's a completely different jurisdiction. I'll see what I can do, but I doubt it. We don't want to step on the Feds' toes. I'll try to get you some photos, if they'll help."

"They might. Whatever you can do, I'd appreciate, Seth." The Chief promised to keep her updated and hung up.

Diana consulted her calendar that was hanging on the wall. It was a full moon tonight. It hadn't been a full week since Damon's last feeding, but the effect of the moon might bring out the hunger again. She decided she would spend time down in Damon's Canyon tonight. It was a long shot, but worth the risk. She was used to risks, and the thrill of the hunt was as strong for her as Damon's thirst for blood was for him.

The phone shrilled again. "Any luck, Seth?" she answered.

"Diana, it's me." Duncan's baritone reached through the wires and wrapped around her insides.

"Duncan! Um, I wasn't expecting to hear from you. How are you?" Diana tried to keep her voice level.

"I miss you. I've missed you since I left you standing in your driveway that night."

"That was your choice."

"I know that. A terrible choice."

"So what do you plan to do about it?" Diana could feel her thighs grow damp and weak at his voice.

"I need to get back there. Soon, Red. "

"When?"

"I don't know, exactly. It just has to be soon. Was that a zipper I just heard?"

Diana froze, her hand starting to caress the spun-sugar threads of her thick pelt. "Yes."

"Is there something you want to do?" His voice teased and tweaked her over the line.

"Oh, yeah. Do you want to help?" She dipped her fingers inside herself, sinking them into the gooey warmth.

"Of course. Are you playing with your beautiful tight pussy?" He softened his tone.

"Yessss," her breath hissed, sighing and gasping at the same time.

"I wish I could be there. I'd stick my cock inside you, instead, and pump you full of what you need."

"Mmmm, I need you, Duncan. I need to have you fill me up, and suck on my nipples again. Oh..."

"Baby, I'd love to suck on your breasts, and suck on your pussy lips. I'd stick my tongue up there and run it back and forth over your hard clit. Would you like that?" Duncan murmured.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Stick it up there and find my button." Her fingers fluttered, then massaged. She put the phone on speaker and fondled her own breasts, feeling their weight as if for the first time. "I need you to wrap your lips around my tits."

"Darling, I miss those, too. I miss how soft the skin is, how firm they are. I miss their sweetness. Come on, baby, fuck yourself hard. That's it, I can hear your breath getting faster and faster. God, I want to sink my rod into that tight pussy and just jam into you over and over again! I want to stick my finger up your ass and then stick my cock up there, all the way in as deep as I can shove it."

"Oh, God, Duncan, oh, fuck me, oh...!" Diana was sitting back in her chair, her feet propped on her computer desk, legs apart. Her hips shook as she climaxed, digging the fingers of both hands into herself.

"Oh, Red, I'm coming...now!" She heard the familiar grating groan of Duncan's own orgasm as he masturbated at the other end of the line.

"Diana?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You alive?" he panted.

"Barely. Duncan, come back. Things are getting bad here."

"I will, Red. Soon. I promise. Look, I have to go. You take care of yourself, okay? I don't want anything happening to that tasty body of yours."

"I'll be okay. I always am." Diana could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. "Duncan, I have to go, too. Good bye." She hung up and stared at the phone for a few minutes.

Diana shook herself out of her darkness. She showered and changed into fresh blue jeans and a pair of ankle-high boots. Standing in front of her bedroom mirror, she fastened on a jade satin bra that set off her cleavage. She adjusted her breasts in their cups, thinking of Duncan Sloan's hands and how good they had felt on her body. Shaking off the memory, she stared into the recesses of her closet, then pulled out a forest green silk blouse. It would set off the red in her hair. She removed her small cross from around her neck and pulled a larger one out of her jewelry box.

She trotted downstairs to the kitchen. Diana entered the walk-in pantry, moved a few boxes of dried kidney beans aside on an upper shelf, and pushed a small hidden button. The entire line of shelves swung open a crack, and she pulled the false door open, hitting a switch just inside the doorway.

Diana surveyed her private armory, searching for the perfect weapon for the evening's hunt. There were three fireproof gun safes, loaded with semi-automatic weapons. She didn't see much need for the heavy-duty firepower of automatic rifles. Her hunting required well-placed shots and spacing, and she'd never had to take on an army of the undead that would necessitate mass destruction. Overkill was so messy and needless.

A separate safe housed her ammunition, the majority of it silver jacketed with silver loads. It was expensive stuff and hard to get, but the network financed the purchase. She made a decent living off the routine bounty-hunting that she handled when she wasn't out hunting the supernatural, besides the books she authored under a pen name. She smiled to herself as she surveyed her choices, thinking how horrified parents would be if they knew that "Devin Leonard," writer and illustrator of such children's books as "Patches The Playful Cat" and "Mindy, the Mountain Mouse," was actually Diana Lorraine, hunter of the inhuman.

She settled on a Smith & Wesson scandium framed .357 Magnum. Lightweight and tough, it gave her only five shots, but that would be all she needed in a crunch. She tucked it into an ankle holster in her boot, pulling down the hem of her pant leg to cover the bulge. Diana opened a cherrywood case that had belonged to her mother and studied the selection of knives. Always have a backup, Mamma would advise her. She chose a slim, silver-bladed dagger with an emerald green malachite handle and slipped it into the tiny sheath that was sewn into the front of her bra between the cups. She ran a hand over her breasts, remembering Duncan's mouth and lips upon them.

Her nipples grew engorged at the memory and she played with them through the green satin. She needed him. Desperately. She needed a taste of the curly-haired writer or she was going to go mad. She dropped to her knees, spreading her legs apart and leaning back on one hand while she used the other to manipulate her nether lips and the humid flesh nestled inside them. The phone call just wasn't enough, right now. "Oh, Duncan, come back, come back, come..." she whispered. Her fingers fluttered and rubbed fiercely, and the light pink of her pussy deepened to dusky rose. Slide and stroke. Slide and stroke. The rhythm quickened, as did her breath. Her release came suddenly, thundershower fast and hard, and her cries resonated in the armory.

Diana crouched on the floor, her face laid upon her knees as she hugged them to her chest. "I hate this fucking emptiness," she said softly to herself. "I've waited so long. Come on, Duncan. Come on."

She finally arose and turned off the light, securing the house before grabbing her black leather jacket and heading out into the fading daylight.

Diana sang along to the cassette playing in the tape deck. The sun was setting as she parked her vehicle in an empty space outside the office she maintained in Damon's Canyon. After checking her mail and message machine, she used the bathroom, reminding herself to take it easy on her coffee consumption if she were to survive the kidney-buster ride from her cabin to town. She inspected herself in the mirror, making sure nothing was showing that shouldn't be, making sure that her cross was evident. She clicked off the lights and locked up the shop, then began her patrol of the town she was destined to protect.

Diana stopped in at the Martinez Grocery.

"Miss Lorraine, how are you? My, don't you look lovely tonight! Got a hot date?" Teresa teased, eyeing Diana's attire.

"Never too late to hope! How are things down here, Mrs. Martinez?" Diana asked, scanning the store from the second-floor office.

"Quiet, quiet. People are spooked by the Bennett girl's murder. Such a terrible thing, don't you think?"

"Absolutely. You haven't seen anyone matching the description that Chief Mulavey put out, have you?"

"No, not yet. He'd better not try anything with any of my girls in here, I tell you that. I'm ready for him," Teresa said, opening her desk drawer and pulling out a .38 revolver.

Diana smiled. "That's what I like about you, Mrs. Martinez. Always prepared. You just be careful yourself, okay?"

Her next stop was the coffee shop and diner just down a few blocks from her office, the one where Gina Bennett had worked.

"What'll it be tonight, Miss Lorraine?" asked a subdued Rina Thorsen, the owner.

"Just some of your pumpkin pie, with lots of whipped cream. You know my sweet tooth, Rina." She could smell the fear emanating from Rina Thorsen. Everyone was scared around here.

Rina laid out a dessert dish with a spicy slice of pie heaped with cream in front of Diana, adding a napkin and fork to the setting. Rina leaned forward conspiratorially.

"There's some sort of maniac loose around here. You better be careful, a woman like yourself out in this dark."

"It's not that dark out, tonight, Rina. Full moon, remember?" Diana attempted to pacify the woman.

"You know what I mean. I heard they found the Scheinblum couple dead up at their cabin, mutilated, just like Gina. And those girls that ran away, maybe they didn't run away. Maybe this monster snatched them." Rina's eyes matched the saucer.

"Now, Rina, you have to be careful about listening to gossip." Diana thought that she'd have to talk with Seth and let him know that someone was leaking details about the deaths.

"Miss Lorraine, you've lived here most of you life, you know how the rumor mill is around this town, one-third story, two-thirds truth. I'm telling you, there's a monster out there."

"I'll agree with you there." Diana finished off her pie.

She stopped in at the police station, leaving a note for Seth about the information leakage, then went on her way.

Diana passed the town library, brightly lit, with patrons going in and out of the double front doors. She almost dismissed the thought of going in, reasoning that it was too bright a place for the vampire. Then she remembered his appetite for knowledge. What better place to learn about the world he was re-entering than the library?

An elderly gentleman she recognized as one of her old teachers pushed open the door, holding it for her so she could enter. She thanked him, and waved to Sheila Benton, the on-duty librarian.

"Keeping an eye on things, Diana?" Sheila asked. Their fathers had been close friends, and Sheila had some sort of vague knowledge that Diana did more than just track down and return property to its rightful owners. She also was one of the few people who knew that "Devin Leonard" was Diana.

"Yes, ma'am. Things all quiet here?" Diana leaned against the front counter at an angle where she could study the patrons.

"Oh, yes. It's a library, remember?" Sheila smiled at her little joke. "You don't think whoever murdered Gina would come in here, do you? It seems to me someone like that would want to pick up gals at the bars or on the streets, where no one would notice them."

"You never know, Sheila. I'm just going to hang out for awhile, if you don't mind."

"Be my guest. You let me know if there's anything I can do for you." Sheila excused herself to help a couple of teenagers track down a book for a class project.

Diana roamed the library unobtrusively, walking leisurely from aisle to aisle. Many of the faces were familiar, quite a few were youngsters researching school projects or parents checking out books for their children. Diana stopped to make a recommendation on the books that one mother was helping her eight year old select, several volumes of stories about the local mountain animals by Devin Leonard. As she leaned over, her cross slipped free of her blouse and hung on its chain, the light catching the silver and reflecting off its surface.

The reflection caught the attention of a tall, dark haired, dark eyed man who had just entered the lobby. His nostrils flared ever so slightly as he scented on the fiery-haired woman with the cross. He could smell her aroma, the clinging scent of pine and fresh air around her body. He could smell something else coming from her. The thick, needy scent of a woman deeply desiring sex. His eyes narrowed as the cross dangled from her blouse, a smile on her tanned face as she patted a tow-headed child on the head. A woman conflicted. This might be the one.

The woman straightened up and strode off in another direction, and he followed her scent down through the Mysteries aisle, past the Autobiography section and towards the Historical row.

"Oh, excuse me!" cried a raven-tressed woman who turned the corner of the aisle and bumped into the vampire.

He grabbed her lightly by the arms to steady her and lost the scent contact to this new woman's overwhelming fruity perfume.

"That's quite all right. Are you okay?" he smile down at her, fixing her violet eyes with his brown ones.

She looked up and her eyes clouded. "I, uh, I don't think so. I feel a little dizzy suddenly."

"Let me help you outside. Perhaps you just need some fresh air for a few minutes," the man offered, propelling her towards the door. The redhead would have to wait until another time. He'd pick up her scent trail later.

Diana came around the corner of the History tier in time to see a tall man with dark hair walking out the front door with the woman she recognized as Lisa Turnbow. Lisa was a teacher at the high school who attended the same mountain chapel as Diana. Something didn't look right, Lisa looked like she was leaning heavily on this man as though she were sick. Diana hurried to catch up, glancing up and down the sidewalk. She didn't see Lisa and the stranger, but she could hear the clicking of Lisa's high heels and her nervous laugh. Diana tilted her head, trying to zone in on a direction.

Diana leaned down and pulled her gun from its holster, then followed the sound around the corner of the library where there was a parking lot. She got there in time to see the man get in the driver's seat of Lisa's blue Camaro. She could see that Lisa was in the passenger side, leaning down as if to show the man something. The car started and pulled jerkily backwards, then headed forward with slow, jerking movements. The man didn't turn on the headlights until he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main highway, heading up towards the mountains.

Diana ran up the sidewalk towards her office, keeping her eyes on the rapidly ascending taillights, her revolver grasped firmly in hand.

"Son of a bitch! He didn't know how to drive! That's why he hasn't gotten far away." She jumped in her truck, laying her gun on the passenger seat and picking up her cell phone. She hit the automatic dialler.

"Seth! It's me. He's here! Yeah, I just saw him at the library, he took off with Lisa Turnbow. She's a teacher over at the high school. I know it's him, it has to be. Dark hair, tall, just like the description from Crazy Constance. Something just didn't look right, he may have mesmerized her. Look, he's driving her blue Camaro. That's what was going on when Carla crashed, I'll bet anything. She was probably showing him how to drive and decided to end the lesson. Seth, he's a quick learner, he's already way ahead of me. I can barely see his taillights heading up the mountain. I'll follow him as far as I can, but I need backup and quick! Okay, talk with you later."

Diana tossed the phone on the seat and sped up, trying to keep the taillights in sight. Lord, help me get him, she prayed as she burned rubber going through the curves.

Lisa sat in fear on her side of the car, watching the dark-haired man with a pale complexion who somehow had convinced her to let him drive her home. Once inside the car, he asked her about the gearshift. She explained it was an automatic, looking at him like he was crazy. "Haven't you ever driven before?"

"Almost. I watched enough to figure out most of the technique." He smiled a feral smile at her and pulled out of the parking lot as she came out of her haze and realized she was in big trouble.

"Don't even think of jumping out, my lady. You'll mess up that beautiful face of yours," the man cautioned as Lisa contemplated opening the door.

The stranger cranked up the speed as he grew more familiar with the car's handling. He smiled. This was wonderful, much better than a horse, better than carriages. He never dreamed the horseless carriages would become these sleek, speedy conveyances. Damon looked in the rear-view mirror and frowned. There were headlights behind him, and they were gaining on the Camaro at a high rate of speed.

Damon doused the headlights.

"What are you doing? We'll crash!" Lisa wailed.

Damon smiled again, and Lisa shivered at the cold grin, a heartless slash across his handsome face. "Have no fear, I can see in the dark."

He pressed on the gas pedal and slid through curves and turns, Lisa starting to hyperventilate beside him, but fearful to utter another word.

Down below, Diana saw the taillights go out. "Shit!" She pounded the steering wheel and continued to race up the road. So the prey knew he was being hunted. Nothing worse than a cornered rat, she thought, as she sped up the road in a vain attempt to catch sight of the Camaro. Nothing. She pulled off at a turn out and shut off her engine, jumping out of her truck to listen for the sound of an engine. Dead silence.

She pounded the hood of her truck with a fist and laid her head down on folded hands. He was going to take another life, and she almost had him. Diana got back in the truck and dialed Seth, telling him the bad news. The Phoenix could have flown in any direction, any side road in these mountains. They'd lost him.

Damon cruised up the mountainside, enjoying the victory over his pursuer. He relaxed and drove upwards into the chill air of the night, past The Log Jam restaurant, past the turn-off the young man in the yellow car had foolishly taken, upwards towards his latest lair, the old man's cabin. He pulled off and parked the car in the ramshackle two-car shed that served as a garage next to the cabin.

Lisa shrank away from him as he came around the passenger side and hauled her out by her wrists.

"What are you going to do to me?" Tears slid down from her violet eyes.

"Oh, I thought we'd enjoy a fine meal? How does that sound to you?" the man answered happily, shoving her through the front door. Lisa fell on the floor, one high heel snapping, the other shoe coming off her foot.

The man pulled her to her feet and brought her into the dark living room. He embraced her, sliding his hands around her back, pulling her close to his body. His hands swept over her buttucks, squeezed her breasts. Lisa could feel the dry heat arising from his frame and she shuddered. The man's arms tightened around her and he bit into her neck. She cried out, trying to fight him, trying to claw at his face, but Lisa Turnbow would not be teaching any more history classes at Damon's Canyon High. It was a full moon, and Damon Benyu was hungry.



Diana sat, hunched and quiet, on a wooden chair in Seth's office.

"It's not your fault. You can't follow someone when you can't see where he is," Seth tried to soothe her.

"It's been four days, and no sign of Lisa or her car. People are up in arms about this. She was a very popular teacher. Parents are afraid to let their kids go to the library now." Diana pushed her coffee cup away and cradled her head on her crossed arms.

"He has wheels, now, perhaps he leave the area," Seth said hopefully.

"And what, become someone else's problem? Seth, that's not like you

He sighed and sat down. "I know, little girl. I'm just getting too damned old for this stuff. Your folks were lucky, they got out of the business before it killed them like it killed Sasha. At least they got to die of natural causes."

Diana's eyes welled up at the thought of her daughter's father, the beautiful, funny Sasha, his pale blue eyes long closed in death. How she needed him now, to help her track down this monster. Her thoughts shifted quickly to Duncan. How she needed him, now. Soon, he had promised. Not soon enough.

"I'm going to my office to do some work. Talk with you later." She dragged out the door and up the walk to her office.

He shook his head and muttered, "This business is going to kill me yet," turning his attention to a stack of reports on his desk. One report was a letter of reprimand for the officer who had been spreading the classified information about the previous murders, a rookie he had pinpointed by talking to Rina Thorsen and a few other residents. That boy will be working for someone else by the end of the year, Seth thought.



Duncan Sloan sat in his small apartment on the outskirts of Chicago and flicked on his laptop computer. He hadn't stopped thinking about the copper-haired vampire hunter back in California, and his heart ached to touch her again, especially after the phone sex they'd had a couple of nights earlier. He had spent many nights lying in bed, his hand wandering down to touch his rod. He kept her thong with him, her scent still wafting off its delicate fabric. He thought of her weighty, swaying breasts, their heaviness filling his mouth. He played with the head of his cock, and the shaft thickened and swelled at the memory. His hand stroked and prodded, working the hard flesh. He wanted to ram that shaft into her juicy blossom, wanted to load her up with the thick, hot cream that flowed out over his hand as he yanked himself off night after night.

Duncan had mailed back her books several weeks earlier. They'd been very helpful, and the spread on Damon's Canyon came out great, the pictures of Jacob's handiwork a prime feature in the article. Duncan had felt a heavy burden of guilt leaving Diana when she seemed to need him, but he didn't have the luxury of being financed by some shadowy organization that kept her in silver bullets.

Duncan typed in keywords for "Damon's Canyon." He was stunned by the amount of information that came up before his eyes. He began to chew his lip and his face darkened as he browsed each entry.

"Missing person, Pam Calhoun, aged 16, Damon's Canyon, California."

"Missing person, Beth Reyes, aged 17, Damon's Canyon, California."

"Missing person, Cory Hempstead, aged 15, Damon's Canyon, California."

"Missing person, Angela Craig, aged 17, Damon's Canyon, California."

"Missing person, Lisa Turnbow, aged 32, Damon's Canyon, California," this last entry dated two days earlier. The night of their phone call. "Seen leaving the local library in her car, a 1999 blue Camaro, license XTC223, in the company of a brown haired man, approximately 6'1" to 6'3" tall..."

An article from the local newspaper came up, detailing the murder of Gina Bennett, waitress, at the hand of person or persons unknown. The article noted that the victim's throat had been slashed and there may have been some mutilation to her body.

Duncan accessed the web site for the Damon's Canyon newspaper, searching the archives for obituaries and anything to do with death or murder. He read the brief articles on the deaths of the Scheinblums and the murders of Gerta Snobel and Kevin Davis, horrified at the gruesome damage to the bodies. Diana had said things were getting bad. She had neglected to mention just how bad.

Duncan turned off his laptop and sat back in his chair. After an hour of contemplation, he picked up the phone and dialed his editor's home phone number, not caring that it was 2:00 in the morning. A lot of things had waited long enough, this phone call wasn't going to be one of them.