Diana tried to concentrate on business, making phone calls to lawyers and heirs. She was combination bounty hunter and shrink, restoring property to its rightful owners, tracking heirs, soothing family rifts. It was a dirty job, but since the main thrust of her business dealt with the recovery and delivery of the undead, the few legitimate dealings she had didn't really bother her. Refereeing fights between the living over objects they couldn't take with them to the grave was a piece of cake compared with trying to convince a 400 hundred year old vampire to give up its soul to God. The soul. The one possession that traveled to the grave and beyond.

She stretched and checked her watch. 4:30 p.m. Time to grab supper and head up the hill. She used the bathroom to freshen up and heard the tinkle of the bell over her front door, announcing a visitor. Maybe Seth had a lead on Lisa Turnbow. She stepped back into the office area.

"Hey, Red, could you use an extra hand in staking out your vampire?"

Duncan Sloan stood in the doorway, his eyes bleary from lack of sleep.

"Duncan? What are you doing here?" She stepped towards him uncertainly.

"I couldn't stay away any longer. I hated to leave in the first place, but I had a job to do. Then I did some research online and found out that you've been having some heavy-duty problems out here. Thought it was time to come on back. I quit my job, packed my bags, and hauled ass out here from Chicago."

"You quit...you were with that magazine for a long time. What are you going to do now?" Diana took another step.

Duncan edged forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. "Freelance, I guess. No steady paycheck, but I'll get by."

"Better a poor man with a conscience than a rich man with none," Diana said, advancing another hesitant step. "I missed you."

Duncan embraced her, savoring the warmth of her body against his. "I missed you, too. I've wanted to hold you for so long, to hear your voice, to see your eyes again. I couldn't leave you behind to face whatever it is you're facing."

Diana linked her arms around his neck and leapt up, wrapping her legs around his midsection. They probed each other's mouths, encircling and sucking tongues until they could barely breathe. Duncan levered her up and down, supporting her ass with his hands, creating a friction across his swelling package.

"Red, it's been so fucking long. I've thought of you every night. I couldn't hold out any longer."

Diana unwound herself and lowered her feet to the floor. "There's no reason to hold out any more, Duncan. I'm here, you're here, that's all that counts. I've missed touching you and holding you and feeling you inside me."

Duncan tore open the front of her blouse, material ripping and buttons sailing across the room. Diana gasped.

"Don't be afraid, Red." Duncan hesitated.

"I'm not afraid. I'm turned on, you idiot! Take me!"

Duncan threw off his pants and shirt while Diana shucked her jeans and boots. He broke the front clasp of her satin bra, the same jade green one she had worn the night the beast had taken Lisa Turnbow. Diana's plump breasts tumbled free and he attacked them voraciously, sucking and biting the nipples which swelled into his mouth.

"I need your pussy!" he panted into her mouth as his fingers invaded her dark cleft.

"Then take it!" Diana monkeyed up his body and imprisoned his waist with her legs. She lowered herself onto Duncan's cock.

A sound like that of steam escaping a radiator issued from his lips. "Damn, woman, you are so fucking wet! I want you to come first. I want to hear you moan and feel you soak my cock with your juices!"

Diana writhed up and down on his stem. Her head whipped back and forth, her fiery hair flowing over her shoulders then back over her breasts. His hardness penetrated her, filled her with the burning heat she had craved.

"Duncan...God, I've been starving for you! I'm going to flood all over your dick, can you feel it? Oh, yeah, right there, right there, right there, don't move..." Diana spasmed and clenched her thighs, nearly knocking the wind out of Duncan as she came.

"Ah, ah, ah..." she panted, lying her head upon his shoulder, still shuddering and trembling with aftercum.

"My turn, wildcat."

Duncan wedged her against a wall and drove into her, slowly, then faster and faster. She'd have bruises on her back in the morning, but she wasn't complaining right now.

"Here I come, baby. See what you do to me?" Duncan drove hard and deep, penetrating all the way up to his full balls. He erupted inside her. His spume filled and overfilled, dripping onto the floor beneath them.

Emptied and exhausted, he collapsed to his knees, Diana riding down the wall and landing in a crouch on the floor. They leaned against each other.

Duncan kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Can you move?"

Diana blew out a laugh. "I'm not sure. Can you?"

"I think so."

They rose gingerly to their feet, grasping each other for support. The two of them hunted for their clothing, dressing slowly. Diana picked up her torn shirt and flagged it at Duncan.

"You owe me a brand new blouse!"

"Hang on. I've got an extra tee shirt in the truck. Be right back." He scrambled out the door and returned with a folded tee shirt bearing a mountain scene and the caption, "Grand Tetons. Best of the West!"

"I was thinking of you when I bought this!" he laughed.

"Gee, thanks. I think." Diana slipped the shirt on and tucked it in, dropping her torn blouse into her trash can.

"Quite a welcome home, wildcat. Thank you."

"No problem." She dipped her head to one side and eyed him. "Are you ready to see what I do? Do you truly think you can handle it? This is a mean bastard. A lot of the vampires I deal with are simply feeding their hunger, some of them don't even kill. They feed, and they leave their victims a little sore and confused, but that's the worst harm they do. This one, he enjoys the kill, enjoys the lust. He's getting ready to move on. I have to stop him before he does."

"How do you know?'

"He's learned how to drive. He has a set of wheels, which means he has a means to travel. But he's waiting for something. Maybe he wants to take his mate here, I don't know. It's almost as though I can sense his presence."

"What are you going to do?"

"Bait the trap with a devout woman." She looked into his face.

"Who?" Duncan asked suspiciously.

"Me."

On Monday afternoon, Duncan and Diana shared a private lunch in Seth's office to discuss Damon Benyu. After they had left, the Chief received a call from Sherri at The Log Jam.

"Seth? Would you do me a favor? I got a call from Judy Biggs. Her dad lives up in one of the cabins a couple of miles above here. She was supposed to have heard from her father this weekend, but he never called. He calls regularly every two weeks just to check in and let her know he's okay. She's worried about him and wanted me to check on him, but I'm swamped here at the restaurant. Besides, with everything going on with that missing teacher and all, I don't feel really safe wandering around up there. Could you send one of your officers to check it out?"

"I'm heading up that way this evening to drop off some paperwork at Diana Lorraine's. I'll stop by and check on him. Give me his address."

Seth Mulavey left work early to make the long drive up the mountain, carrying with him photocopied reports of the autopsies on the Sheinblums, Gerta Snobel and Kevin Davis. The shadows were falling on the highway as he drove, and the October nights were getting chilly up in the mountains. Wouldn't be long and the snow would set in. Then the roads beyond the turnoff to Diana's cabin would become impassable for the winter.

He passed The Log Jam as the evening crowd was starting. It was a popular place, drawing people out of the hills with the hearty food and good company that Sherri served up. Maybe he'd stop in on the way back down the mountain to grab a quick cup of coffee.

Seth checked the address he'd written on a slip of paper and saw the numbers on the mailbox reflecting in his headlights. He pulled into the narrow driveway that curved around the back of the cabin. The lights were off and it didn't appear that anyone was home. He got out and turned on his police issue flashlight, running the beam around the outside of the cabin and playing it on the small garage. He pulled open the doors and stopped in his tracks. There was a blue Camaro parked next to an older model gray Ford truck.

Seth backed up slowly to his patrol car, his hand on the butt of his gun. He turned the engine on and radioed down to the station, letting the dispatcher know where he was and that he had found Lisa Turnbow's car. "Get me a couple of uniforms the hell up here immediately! I'm going in to see if Mr. Biggs is okay."

The chief advanced on the cabin, gun drawn. The narrow beam from the flashlight wavered ahead of him. He opened the cabin door and felt for the light switch. He snapped on the light and saw movement in the shadows ahead of him.

"Come on out, Benyu. No place to go this time," Seth said conversationally, holding his weapon on the shadow.

Damon Benyu came into the light, a smile on his face. He had been filling out steadily over the past months and was starting to resemble the old Damon that Crazy Constance had written about in her diary, lean in the waist, broad in the shoulders and chest.

"There are always places to go, Sheriff," the vampire corrected Seth. His voice was seductive, even to men.

"Chief."

"What?"

"I'm a Chief. My great grandfather was the Sheriff. I think you knew him."

Benyu smiled. "Ah, yes, I should have seen the family resemblance."

"We're onto you, you know. Where's the teacher?" Seth's hand holding the gun stayed steady.

"Oh, here and there. She was a tasty little morsel, but my hunger grows. Soon I will need to feed more often. But first, I'm searching for something." He stared into the Chief's eyes, his voice soothing.

"A mate. You aren't going to find one here, monster." The Chief tore his gaze away from the vampire's eyes.

"How did you know about that?" the beast demanded.

"We know lots of things about you, we know about all the victims you've been taking, even the ones we haven't found yet."

"Who is "we"? There are others hunting me?" The vampire took a step in Seth's direction.

"You'll be just another head on the wall pretty soon, so to speak. She'll see to that."

"She? A woman hunts me? Hah, frail beings, they are useful for mating and serving, that's all. Who is this woman?"

"None of your business. Just stay put and I won't have to hurt you," Seth countered. "I've got backup on the way."

The vampire laughed, a dry whispery sound that reminded Seth of a rattlesnake rearing back to strike. "Hurt me? You can't hurt me, you measly humans with your useless bullets."

Damon Benyu reached out to take Seth's gun from his hand and the Chief fired his entire clip, backing up as he did so. A round sliced through the vampire's wrist and the beast howled in disbelief, holding up a hand dripping with black blood. He stared at the Chief, the rims of his eyes reddening in anger.

Chief Seth Mulavey backed to the door. "Silver bullets. She always said to be prepared for the worst. I guess that would be you." The Chief turned and ran for his patrol car, but never made it past the front steps.

The vampire leaped on his back and dug his teeth into the Chief's neck. Seth Mulavey would not allow his death to be a meaningless or easy one. As the big man rolled on the ground with the vampire, he swept his hand around, a thick splinter in his closed fist, and punched it into the vampire's cheek. The beast screamed again, the sound echoing through the canyons and forests. Benyu yanked the splinter from his face. Grasping the Chief with both hands, he broke the big man's neck, then dug in and fed angrily, throwing the body on the ground when he finished. He ran into the cabin, packing up his belongings into the small suitcases, and threw them into the Camaro. He backed out of the garage, mindful that he would have company soon, and eased his way around the Chief's car. He pulled out onto the highway and tore off into the night, upwards toward the campground at the end of the road.

Black blood dripped from his face and hand. Luckily for him, the bullet had ripped through his wrist and didn't lodge in any bone, or he'd have a worse problem to worry about-the silver eating away at him, not killing him, but causing grave discomfort. He snarled into the night. They wanted a hunt, they would have a hunt. He would be the hunter, and this woman, this would-be vampire huntress, would be his prey.

Diana and Duncan heard the scream of the strigoi mort when the Chief wounded the beast the second time. They were standing on the deck watching the sun set. Diana's memory swept back to the dream she had been having the day Seth called her to tell her about Paul.

"The screech owl again?" Duncan asked. His arms were wrapped around her and he nuzzled her neck with his lips.

"No, that's the real thing. It sounds really pissed off," Diana answered. "Let's go inside."

In the days since Duncan had returned, driving straight from Chicago in two days, Diana had filled him in on all the details, showing him photographs and reports. Their lunch that afternoon with the Chief had been a planning session, a way to figure out how to bait the trap with herself. Seth hated the idea, but he knew there would be no way to stop Diana once her mind was made up.

Diana settled into one of the living room couches and watched as Duncan lit the fire. He sat down next to her and draped an arm around her shoulder. His fingers trailed onto the swelling of her breast and he played with the mound.

"So how is Gabriella doing these days?" Duncan asked.

"She's fine, busy as always with her stables. She loves her horses, I swear the child was born with a mane and hooves. Business slows down in the winter, but she keeps busy."

"Doing what?"

Diana shrugged. "Her own pursuits, whatever they may be."

"You have something I want to pursue." Duncan pressed his lips to hers and savored her response. He loved the way she kissed with an open-mouthed warmth and insistence. She explored his mouth each time as if it were the first time she had kissed him. He unbuttoned her blouse and cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing the nipple through her bra. "Let's get rid of this," he added, unsnapping her bra and tossing it on the floor to join her shirt.

As they shed their clothing, they caressed each other, sliding fingers across perspiring, warm skin. Tongues tasted each other's bodies, salt and sweat and sweet, smooth flesh.

"Here, baby, sit at the edge of the couch," Diana said. "That's it. Now let me turn around and straddle your cock. Oh, yeah, slip it up inside me. All the way to the root. Oh, yeah, God, that feels so good..."

She settled herself onto his prick, facing away from him and leaning forward like a ski jumper preparing to make a run down the slope. Duncan supported her with his hands splayed out around her ribs, admiring the taut musculature of her belly as she rocked up and down upon his shaft.

He sucked in his breath as she rode him. "Damn, woman, you feel great!" He wrapped his forearm around her abdomen and moved his other hand up to fondle her bounding breasts.

"I want you to come this way, Duncan," Diana gulped.

"I aim to please, Red!" Duncan felt her clamp down on his cock with her pussy muscles. The suctioning sensation overcame his sense of self-control and he spurted into her. "Come on, baby, your turn..." he encouraged her.

The phone extension next to the couch nearly screamed in their ears.

"Crap! Hello? Yes, Sherri, what's up?" Diana stood up abruptly, Duncan's rod slipping unceremoniously out of her. "When? Where? Are you sure? Sherri, listen to me. Call Jacob and some of the other old timers and tell them. Then keep your place locked up and take all the precautions. That bastard is not getting off this mountain, if it kills me." She slammed down the receiver and raced around the room, pulling on her clothes.

Duncan followed in alarm. "What's happening? Diana, what's wrong?"

She turned to him, eyes narrowed almost to slits, her face suffused an angry crimson. "That bastard got Seth! He found Lisa's car at a cabin down the road and called it in. But he didn't wait for backup. He went in and evidently Damon killed him. He's going to pay for this!"

She stormed out, Duncan keeping pace beside her as he zipped and buttoned. She drove like a maniac to the highway and headed down the hill. As she rounded a tight corner, they nearly slid over the embankment and down the mountain.

"Diana, pull over. You're in no condition to drive." Her hands shaking, Diana obeyed silently. Two tears slid down her cheek, and she brushed them away angrily.

"Give me directions, Red." Duncan whipped through the turns as fast as he safely dared, pulling to the side of the road and parking when he saw the police lights flashing.

They ran to the cabin. "Jorge, where is he?" Diana called out to an officer whose nameplate read "Sgt. J. Martinez." He was Teresa's Martinez' oldest son. He was now the acting police chief.

"Over here, Miss Diana," the officer said sadly, leading them through the police lines.

Seth lay on the ground in front of his cruiser, the blood drying on the ground beneath him. It had been a sloppy kill, one rent with fury. Diana noticed that one of his pants pockets had been pulled completely inside out, and several splinters of wood were imbedded in the fabric. She picked one up and held it to the light from the portable spotlights the police had set up.

"What's that?" Duncan asked.

"Hawthorn. Seth knew his stuff. He wasn't defenseless, that's for sure. " She picked up a broken piece of splintered hawthorn that had a congealed black substance on it. "The vampire's blood. That's why he screamed, Seth must have nailed him with one of these."

"Miss Diana, the Chief emptied his entire clip inside the house. Looks like he got whoever did this, there's blood in there, too." Sgt. Martinez lowered his voice. "Although I've never seen black blood before. And the Chief had silver bullets? What in God's name are we dealing with, Miss Diana?"

"Something that only God can kill, Jorge," Diana answered. She looked at the young man coolly. He crossed himself and nodded. His father had told him tales of the demons that had walked the hills when the town was being established. They were tales told with complete seriousness. Jorge Martinez doubted many things in his line of work, but he never doubted his father.

"So this thing bleeds?" Duncan asked as he trailed after Diana into the cabin.

"Yes, it can be wounded by silver and by the woods I mentioned earlier. He's going to be laying low for awhile until he heals from what Seth did to him. I just wish I knew where he was going."

Up. The vampire was head upwards once again. He thought it fitting that he should be rising, Phoenix that he was.

The temperatures had plummeted in the higher elevations, and there was the scent of a storm in the air. Soon it would snow and he would move on to the cities, his buffet, his smorgasbord. This road had not traveled this far in his previous rising. It was interesting what humans would do to get away from their world, only to gather in little packs in primitive campgrounds.

Damon reached the end of the road and saw the campground ahead of him. The entry sign had fallen from its chain and crunched beneath his tires as he drove over it. Careless humans, no wonder they were such easy prey. There were gates barring entry to the actual campground areas, but he wasn't interested in those, just the museum. It alone would serve his purpose until he was ready to move on. He caught sight of the small cinderblock building and parked in the lot behind the edifice marked "For Employees Only."

Carrying his bags of belongings, he circled the building, looked for an unlocked door. Everything was secured with padlocks. With little effort, he pulled apart several links of chain on the back door and slipped off the padlock. He pulled on the door knob until it broke off, then reached in and removed the remaining pieces, throwing them into the brush. The door opened and he entered his new lair.

It was small, with a front office for the staff, and two rooms with charts of native plants and animals, topographical maps, and warnings about feeding the bears. There was a private lounge for the park staff, with a cot rolled up and standing on end in the corner. He took this down and opened it up, laying his bag of native earth on the canvas. Stuffing his clothing into a locker that the workers usually used, he sat on the edge of the cot and schemed.

Damon thought about the huntress. He wondered what she looked like, how she knew about him and his kind. He had known of other hunters before, but they were always male. The women were weak, incapable of destroying one such as himself. He looked at the damage to his hand. It was ugly, a ragged hole with singed edges, but it would heal in time. He wouldn't have to feed again for another week, he had time. The mark on his face would heal as well. The humans still used the same old tools, the silver, the wood. No imagination, these mortals.

The vampire lay down upon the cot, feeling unusually tired. Perhaps it was the effects of the wounds, he reasoned as he drifted into the sleep of the dead -- black, velvety, utterly devoid of dreams.

The funeral for Chief Seth Mulavey was a glorious one, something that would have embarrassed the normally shy man. Law enforcement representatives attended from around the state, as did his son and daughters, four children in all. They surrounded his widow, a stoic police officer's wife, who sat with head held high during the service. The service was long and held in the mountain chapel, with plenty of hymns and spoken memorials. Diana was the last to walk to the front of the chapel to pay her respects and speak to the gathered mourners about the strength and courage of the Chief, who had died in the line of duty at the hands of a serial murderer. The perpetrator would be found and justice would be meted out, she promised the mourners. The old timers in attendance nodded in unison, knowing that the red-haired huntress would stop at nothing to seal that promise.

The casket was carried on a horse-drawn cart provided by one of the local horse breeders, who also loaned the use of several black geldings outfitted with halters festooned with jet feathers. The mourners followed the cortege on foot, walking slowly to the Damon's Canyon cemetery only a few hundred yards from the chapel where many of their own relatives lay at peace. The graveside service was brief, with a 21-gun salute and the playing of "Amazing Grace" by the high school band, for lack of bagpipes. A luncheon followed at the chapel.

Diana and Duncan mingled with the mourners, catching snatches of conversation between frightened residents wondering who the next victim would be. The police had found the remains of Lisa Turnbow and the elderly man who owned the cabin buried in several shallow graves on the property where their Chief had died. Lisa's funeral would be in a few days.

Doc Swanson, the town's general practitioner and medical examiner, cornered Diana in the hallway. Teresa Martinez had said that the old man had picked up a full case of Seagram's since the Maston boys' murder. Judging from his breath, he was putting it to full use.

"Miss Diana, what are you going to do about this mess?" the good doctor demanded, bloodshot eyes fixed on the huntress.

"I'm doing what I can, Doctor Swanson," Diana responded evenly, backing up a step from the alcohol fumes.

"Well, this is just a disaster. I've got young people dying left and right. We held them off with the mountain lion story for only so long, now this beast has brought a plague of death upon us."

"Nosferatu," Duncan murmured.

"Doc, are we sure they are all connected? We're not talking any copycats or a couple of different killers?"

"Absolutely not. The same types of wounds, the same dentition marks. The same fingerprints on the bodies. It's the same man, all right. Or beast, as the case may be. You'd better do something fast, young lady, before we lose more people." The doctor wandered away, talking to himself and shaking his head.

"Let's get out of here, " Diana said to Duncan. They drove down to the center of town and parked outside her office, then strolled up and down the streets.

"You didn't tell me they left fingerprints," Duncan noted.

"Of course they do. They were human once, they don't lose the whorls and ridges just because they become the undead. Like it does a damn bit of good...just proves that the same beast killed our victims. It only provides a tracking tool if he gets away from here. We find his prints elsewhere, we can keep track of him."

"Let's hope he doesn't get away from here, then."

"Would you like to see some of Damon Benyu's work?" Diana asked suddenly.

"You mean there's still some in existence in the town? I would have thought that it would have been destroyed when they buried him in his tomb."

"Oh, no. It was brought back to town. Of course, some of the stuff is not for display."

"Why not?" Duncan asked, walking beside her to a hole-in-the-wall studio across from the coffee shop.

"You'll see," Diana answered, shooing him in ahead of her. The shop was narrow and dark and smelled of dust and oil paints. A flash of Grandma Sloan's attic in Colorado breezed through Duncan's consciousness, memories of naphtha flakes and dusty trunks filled with sepia photographs and ivory-aged linens.

A short elderly women with graying braids and dressed in a sweat suit appeared from the bowels of the shop.

"Diana, welcome, welcome. It's been a long time since you've visited," the woman said, greeting her guests with a warm smile that showed full dentures and broke her face into a spiderweb of lines. She, like Diana, had a trace accent, only the old woman's was more pronounced.

"Zara, this is my friend, Duncan Sloan. Duncan is helping me with my latest assignment. Duncan, this is Zara."

The two shook hands, Duncan careful not to squeeze the tiny woman's arthritic fingers. Zara, who apparently chose to forego her last name, sized up the writer. "Fine looking young man. You must be good to this child. She is a treasure."

"Yes, ma'am, I realize that."

"Zara, do you have time to show Duncan some of Damon Benyu's works?"

Zara frowned and made the motions of a dry spit to one side. "That monster. I don't know why I was chosen to be the lucky one to hang onto his works. If Grandfather hadn't gotten all mixed up in that business by sealing him in his tomb, I wouldn't be stuck with this stuff. Just my luck to be the heir to his entire estate." Zara led them down a rickety wooden staircase to a half basement with adobe brick walls. "Take a look."

Diana uncovered the canvases. Benyu had painted the surrounding countryside, the once-thunderous river, the old Valley Oaks, even some of the Giant Sequoias. The colors were dark and foreboding.

"Not very unique. Looks a lot like the stuff they paint today, just darker. I think old Damon could have used a batch of antidepressants, though."

"You haven't seen darkness, yet. This is what they found in his cabin when they buried him. The real stuff." Diana removed the sheets from two more canvases standing on plain wooden easels.

Benyu's true soul-or lack thereof-showed through in these last works. One depicted a feast of bloodthirsty proportions in colors of crimson and black and flesh. It was a self-portrait of the artist engaged in an orgy, apparently both sexual and vampiric, with a trio of well-endowed, naked women. One was giving oral stimulation to his erect member with ruby lips. Her eyes were closed with something - rapture or fear, he couldn't tell - and she grasped his thighs with talon-clenched fingers. He feasted on the second woman's swanlike neck, his red-rimmed eyes peering up over her shoulder to observe the third woman nuzzling the first one's globular breasts. It was a bacchanalia of debauchery.

The second work was unfinished, showing a young woman with flowing auburn hair, her legs wrapped around the vampire's waist, her head thrown back in ecstasy as he buried his mouth in her neck. It was the back view of the woman, and Duncan could see the vampire's thick penis entering the woman's fleshy labia, her auburn pubic hair tangling and entrapping his member.

"Reality or fantasy?" Duncan finally asked.

"His fantasies, I'm sure, since he's never had any offspring. This is how I'm going to nail his ass," Diana declared, tapping the second canvas.

"You'd better be careful, or he's going to nail yours first. You think this is his fantasy woman, a red-head?"

"Look at the first painting. The woman giving him sexual pleasure is also red-haired. He's a sucker for them," she said.

"Diana, this is too dangerous."

"You have any better ideas, young man?" Zara interrupted from the stairwell. "Diana always knows what's she doing. God will protect her. Come upstairs, this is getting too cold for my arthritis."

The couple followed the elderly woman as she clambered painfully up the stairs and back to the front of her shop. She locked the door behind them as they departed, and drew the shade over the window. Her small, claw-like hand reached back up and hung a large wooden cross in the door's lone window, hooking it over a nail in the upper doorframe. Zara wasn't taking any chances.

"Where to, now, boss?" Duncan asked, putting an arm around Diana's waist. He could feel the bottom of her holster. She was packing big heat tonight beneath her black leather duster.

"The library."

"You don't think he'll go back there, do you? He's been seen there." Duncan asked.

"His education isn't finished yet. The cops didn't see him heading down the hill, which means he went up somewhere. But he has to come down sometime. And he hasn't mated yet. He's a brazen bastard, he doesn't care about being seen, he knows he can get away."

Diana introduced him to Sheila, the librarian, who ogled the ruggedly good-looking writer. Diana showed him around the library, then suggested they split up, with Duncan taking the upper level so he could keep an eye out in case the vampire made contact with Diana. With a deep sense of unease, Duncan agreed to do so and climbed to the second floor, which overlooked the bottom of the library.

Diana browsed the History section, then moved into the Art aisle. She felt the presence of the vampire before she saw him, and turned to watch him near her from the end of the aisle.

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help notice you were studying the primitive art books. Are you yourself an artist?" Damon Benyu asked her, his muddy eyes boring into hers.

"As a matter of fact, I am an illustrator and an author," Diana responded, brushing her long, loose hair back from her face. Damon sucked in every movement as if he were sucking up the blood he craved.

"Are you now? How fortunate I am to find you, then! I, too, am an artist. My name is Dane Bailey." He held out his hand, an artist's hand. A killer's hand.

"Diana Lorraine. I'm very pleased to meet you," Diana smiled, slicking her hand quickly through the vampire's offered handshake. She could feel his sexual vibrations even through the brief contact. She wasn't going to be mesmerized as Lisa Turnbow had been.

"Have I read any of your books?"

"Only if you have children. I write kids' books as Devin Leonard."

"No, no children. Not yet. Why the nom de plume?" the vampire asked.

"I'm a very private person. I don't need all the attention notoriety brings."

"I understand that completely. Do you live around here?" the man asked, insinuating himself into her personal space. Diana could feel the heat emanating from his lean body and was stunned. The vampyr were normally cold-blooded creatures. This one felt like the very furnaces of Hell itself.

"Up in the mountains a ways," she answered vaguely, backing up.

"So do I! Perhaps we can get together sometime, discuss art, color, technique," he said, running a finger down along her hand, his voice enticing.

"I'd like that. Let me know when, and perhaps we can meet at The Log Jam for dinner or coffee," Diana suggested.

"Why not right now? The night is early, and I don't have anything else to do."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dane, but my brother is in town, and we have plans for tonight. Another night, soon?" she said apologetically as Duncan anxiously strode up behind her.

The vampire straightened, a prism of rage and disappointment fleeting across his handsome pale face. Then he smiled. "But of course. I wouldn't want to keep you from family."

"What's your telephone number? I could call you and set up a date," Diana ventured.

"You know, I've just moved into my new home, and I don't even have a telephone yet. Why don't we meet at the restaurant in a few days?"

"I guess we could do that. Why don't we make it, say, Thursday evening, at six? You do know where The Log Jam is, don't you?"

"Yes, I've passed it on my way home," Damon answered. "I'll see you, Thursday, then. It was nice to meet you, Mr...?"

"Lorraine," Diana answered quickly, looking up at Duncan with an adoring smile. "Duncan Lorraine. He's my younger brother," she explained. Duncan and Diana watched, her arm around his waist in a family-friendly hug, as the vampire glided out the front door.

Duncan expelled his breath. "Jesus, that was close! What would you have done if I hadn't come up just then?"

Diana patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, little brother. I've got things under control. He's hot for me!"

"That's what I'm worried about. And why the name change?"

"I was afraid he might recognize your name. "

"My name? Do you think he'd actually notice any of my work? I doubt that's what he interested in."

"I'm not talking about your work. I meant the name 'Sloan.' Damon Benyu has had dealings with the Colorado Sloans in the past. Not happy dealings, either."

"What are you talking about?"

"Not here. I'll tell you later, little brother. Let's get out of here."

"Well if I'm Duncan Lorraine, who the heck are you?"

Diana led him to the children's section and pulled out a few of her books. "Diana Lorraine, aka Devin Leonard, author and illustrator."

"And what if he checks up on the real Devin Leonard?"

"Honey, I am the real Devin Leonard. All roads lead back to me. And it's a one-way road for that horny bastard."

They walked back out onto the sidewalk. Diana could feel a prickling along the nape of her neck.

"He's watching us."

"How can you tell?" Duncan asked under his breath, resisting the urge to look around.

"I can feel him. I wonder how he got into town in Lisa's Camaro. Must have parked on one of the back streets or maybe he parked it up the hill and walked down. Keep walking."

"Where to?"

"We're going to the grocery store. I need to pick up a few supplies."

"And you don't think he'll follow us there?" Duncan increased his speed, matching her stride for stride.

"I'm counting on it. Then, we'll lose him."

They entered the front door of Martinez' Grocery, Diana pulling out a shopping cart and heading for the vegetable section. She spent plenty of time picking out fruit and vegetables, all the while scoping out the store. She caught the motion of the front door swinging closed, but didn't see anyone.

"Take the cart and head for the check out line. When you've bought the groceries, meet me out front," Diana directed Duncan tersely, handing him the keys to her truck.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to use the ladies room," she said, heading towards the back of the store.

"Now?"

"Right now. Just go with the flow," she said, grimacing at her own joke.

Once inside the bathroom, she pulled out her cellular phone and called Teresa Martinez, who was on watch in her office.

"Teresa, it's me, Diana."

"Yeah, I saw you head into the bathroom. Nice looking man you've got with you."

"Thanks, Teresa. Look, I need some help. Who's your most clumsy stockboy, that one who's always knocking over the cans and spilling the flour?"

"That would be Billy Dimpster. The kid's a walking disaster area, but he's a hard worker. Why?"

Diana explained her plan, then cracked open the ladies room door and peeked out, still on the phone. "Where is he?" she whispered to Teresa.

"He's two aisles to your left, in the soup aisle. He's just standing there, his nose in the air a little."

Damn! He was scenting her. She reached behind her and grabbed the can of room deodorizer, spraying volumes in the air as she ran to the stockroom. She passed the aforementioned Billy Dimpster along the way. He screwed up his freckled face at her in a curious moue, then headed for the soup aisle. She tossed the can onto a sack of potatoes and ran to the exit of the stockroom, tearing up the street to the front of the store.

Duncan was already settled into the driver's seat of her truck. He revved the engine and backed to the front of the store, praying no one else was on the street.

She still had Teresa on the line. "What's happening, Teresa?"

"Mr. Handsome already went outside with your groceries and Billy Dimpster...oops, Billy just knocked over an entire pyramid display of canned peas in front of Tall, Dark, and Pasty-Faced."

"Come on, come on," Duncan muttered, watching Diana charge up the sidewalk. She threw the two bags in the jump seats and threw herself into the passenger seat. Duncan didn't wait for her to close the door or buckle up, but hit the gas pedal and sped up the street out of town. Diana grabbed the sissy bar over the window and yanked the door shut, trying to fasten her safety belt as they raced up the mountain.

"Teresa, you still there?" Diana spoke into her cellular.

"Yes, ma'am, I sure am. So's your stalker. Poor Billy has him cornered and is begging his eternal forgiveness, judging from the look on the kid's face."

"You give that boy a bonus for me, and I'll drop a check by next time I'm in town."

"Oh, no!. This one's on the house. You have a good night, Miss Diana." Teresa hung up.

"Okay, that was exciting. Now what?"

"We go home and put the groceries away. Then I figure out away to put Mr. Benyu away, permanently."

Damon cursed as he stalked out of the grocery store, wanting to rip the head off that stupid boy. He was so close to her, he could smell her. If that boy only hadn't gotten in his way. That's all right, he soothed himself, making his way up the hill to the back entrance of the cemetery where he had parked the Camaro. He'd see her in a few days in a more private setting. She'd be rid of her brother, he hoped, and he could have her to himself.

Damon thought of the copper-haired Diana/Devin as he drove back to the campground. She was the one he had seen and smelled the night he took the teacher. He would have to work on her. She could be the one. She was a woman of the earth, pine-scented, a believer. He would twist her and woo her, then turn her against her God, and take her to himself.

He smiled as he returned to his lair to sleep. For once, he wished he could dream, so that he could dream about the fiery-haired beauty.