Message-ID: <59441asstr$1254427802@assm.asstr.org>
From: Dreadpirate Tom <dptom@live.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} Blood Lust
Lines: 9008
Date: Thu, 01 Oct 2009 16:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



Author's note: This story contains graphic depictions of sex and violence,
often combined.  In an effort to convey the savage and sadistic nature of
one of the main characters, there are scenes in which he performs some
truly heinous acts.  Those who are offended by descriptions of acts of
wanton cruelty should definitely move on to something else.  If, on the
other hand, such things don't especially bother you, I hope you enjoy.

   Blood Lust

   By Dread Pirate Tom

   Chapter 1

   Larry knew he was out of his depth the moment he walked into the popular
night club.  The throng of people crowded shoulder to shoulder on the dance
floor, gyrating with abandon to the throbbing, pulsing music, were all at
least ten years younger than him.  He was momentarily taken aback by the
sheer number of them; the bouncer at the entrance had said that it was a
slow night!  Pausing near the entrance, he tapped his foot, slightly but
noticeably out of beat with the music, and chewed his lip nervously. 
Several times he started to leave but, after a long moment, he found his
resolve, straightened his shoulders and pushed his plump, shorter than
average form towards the bar.  After paying an exorbitant fee for a beer,
he put his back to the bar and returned his gaze to the bouncing, twisting
crowd.

   Briefly, he questioned why he had come here, but he knew the answer. 
His job as a CPA in one of the most prestigious accounting firms in the
city didn't often leave him with enough free time to do more than fall into
exhausted sleep in his small, one bedroom apartment before getting up and
heading to work yet again.  He yearned for more.  His strongest desire was
to be a part of something more than himself, to share his life with a woman
for whom he cared and who cared about him.  An office romance was out of
the question.  Time and again, he had seen office politics gleefully
assassinate characters and murder careers as a result of such indulgences.
So he had come here.  This club was reputed to be the best place in the
city to meet women.  Gazing around the large room, he gathered that he had
misinterpreted the nuances of that reputation.  With a sigh, he began a
determined effort to drain his beer quickly, steeling himself for yet
another night alone.

   It was then that he first caught sight of her dancing alone at the
fringe of the crowd.  She was taller than average, far taller than he, with
long blond hair and strong features that bespoke of Nordic ancestry.  She
wore a simple red dress that clung lasciviously to every square inch of her
hips and torso.  Her c-cupish breasts bounced gently in time with the
music, the obviously erect nipples demonstrating that she eschewed the use
of a bra.  She turned and Larry took in the taut smooth curves of her ass.
He struggled momentarily to make out any panty lines, but failed.  In an
instant, everyone else in the room faded from his sight and mind.  His half
empty beer stood on the bar, forgotten and abandoned.  His entire being was
focused entirely on the woman in the red dress.

   He had to meet her.  He knew he had no chance with such an exquisite
specimen of womanhood, but he had to try.  For the next few minutes, he
stood and mentally planned out the conversation to come, trying desperately
to think of a way to impress her with his sophistication, intelligence and
poise.  Then he saw her leave the dance floor and head towards the bar. 
This was his chance!  He sauntered over to where she stood leaning slightly
against the bar.  She saw him coming and her ice-blue eyes met his; a fine,
perfectly plucked eyebrow rose in query.  All of his well planned rhetoric
flushed from his mind in an instant, leaving him grasping for something,
anything, to say.

   He blurted out, "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

   He flushed immediately in embarrassment.  Out of all the things he could
have said, the best he had managed to come up with was a cheesy, cliched
pickup line.

   He couldn't hear it over the music, but he saw that she was laughing
lightly.  Defeated, he turned to leave.  His retreat was halted when she
grabbed his tie directly below the knot.  Pulling him in close, the beauty
in the red dress leaned forward to place her lips near his ear.  The feel
of her breath on his skin sent shivers of ecstasy running up and down his
spine.  He suddenly realized that she was speaking and struggled to get
enough of a hold on himself to understand.

   "That wasn't the best effort that I've ever heard," she whispered, "but
you're the only man in the place who has shown any interest tonight.  How
would you like to dance, stud?"

   He could only nod numbly in response.  With another laugh, she turned
and, still gripping Larry's tie like a leash, strutted back towards the
dance floor, pulling him along in her wake.  Larry followed her willingly,
eagerly.  Despite all of his efforts, he couldn't pull his eyes from her
gently swaying hips.  She finally drew to a halt near the place where he
had first seen her.  She turned and caught the direction of his gaze.

   Bringing her lips to his ear, she asked in a sultry voice, "Were you
looking at my ass, Larry?"

   He struggled to recall when he had told her his name, but quickly gave
up.  What did it matter?  He stammered, "I'm sorry..."

   She stopped his bumbling apology by placing a soft, smooth finger across
his lips.  "It's ok, Larry," she whispered, her soft exhalation caressing
his ear lobe.  "I'm glad you like it."

   Turning back away from him, the woman in red began to roll her hips in
time with the music, gazing over her shoulder with a smile as she watched
the effect this had on him.  With renewed embarrassment, Larry noticed
that, despite all of her activity, she wasn't sweating at all.  He, on the
other hand, was already covered with a sheen and could feel droplets
running down his neck and back.  The embarrassment, and all other thought,
faded to nothingness as she suddenly moved back and began grinding that
beautiful, round rear directly on his crotch.  Larry gazed quickly around
the dance floor, fearful that he was making a spectacle of himself, but
relaxed when he saw that many of the dancers were engaged in similar acts.

   Doing his best to bob in time with the heavy dance beat, Larry reached
out tentatively towards her swiveling hips.  The woman saw his movement and
reached back to take his hands in hers, pulling them to her waist and
running them up and down her flanks.  For the next several songs, Larry was
lost to the feel of her firm, shapely ass rubbing against his tumescent
cock and of her smooth, lithe body beneath the thin, satiny material of her
dress.

   Suddenly, the woman twisted in Larry's grasp as she turned to face him.
Her hard nipples drew lines of fire across his upper chest as she leaned in
to again whisper in his ear, "Would you like to get out of here?"

   She laughed as he nodded eagerly.  Renewing her grip on his tie, she
pulled him towards the door.  Once outside, they climbed into one of the
numerous cabs that waited in front of the popular night spot.

   Before Larry could ask the age old question, the woman in red pressed
herself to him and, with a kiss, said, "Lets go to your place, lover.  My
roommate's home and a bit of a prude."

   The touch of her cool, sensuous lips against his kept Larry from
responding for a moment, but he finally gave the cabby his address.  The
trip passed in a blur for Larry, who was lost in the feeling of soft, cool
lips pressing to his over and over again.

   When the cab drew to a halt in front of his apartment building, Larry
threw a wad of bills at the cabby without checking the denominations and
led the woman in red to his home.  Inside his apartment, she pressed the
full length of her body against his, kissing him fervently while undoing
his tie and the buttons of his shirt.  Larry returned her passion eagerly.
He had reached the conclusion that there was only one reason that such a
beautiful woman would want to have anything to do with him, but that was
fine; for this he would pay any price she demanded.  As if in response to
his thought, Larry thought he saw a look of intense sorrow cross the
woman's face, but it was so fleeting that he concluded that it was only his
imagination.

   Retreating slightly, Larry panted for breath and said, "I don't even
know your name..."

   The woman laughed and pulled him fully back into her embrace,
whispering, "What's in a name?"

   Then they were in his bedroom.  The woman grew frustrated with the
remaining buttons on his shirt and tore it from him, the offending
fasteners flying across the room in all directions.  She then made quick
work of his belt and pants.  When he stood naked in front of her, she
placed a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards onto the bed.

   She then turned her back to his reclined form and began to roll her hips
gently from side to side.  Reaching down she took the hem of her dress in
her hands and worked it slowly upwards, inch by inch.  Larry gasped as her
perfect ass came into view; he had been right about the lack of
undergarments.  Flicking his eyes upwards, he saw that she was watching him
over her shoulder, a coy smile on her full lips.  She finished pulling the
dress above her head and stood before him nude.  After turning around
slowly to give him time to admire her body, she crawled onto the bed,
straddling his supine form.

   She bent down and kissed him passionately before whispering in his ear,
"No foreplay tonight, baby.  I want to feel you inside me."

   Before he could respond, he felt cool, tight, wet velvet enclose his
throbbing cock.  She sat upright astride his hips, and Larry took in the
sight of his cock buried fully in her smooth shaven sex.  Suddenly he felt
the muscles of her channel began to rhythmically tighten and release all
around his turgid length.  As he threw his head back in ecstasy, he felt
her begin to raise and lower herself on his shaft without interrupting the
delicious internal contractions.

   Gradually, she increased the speed and force with which she rode him,
her firm round buttocks slapping hard into his upper thighs on each down
stroke before she reversed direction and rose until only his tip remained
inside her.  Larry's eyes squeezed shut in bliss and he began to emit a
continuous guttural moan.  As she gazed down upon him with a gentle smile
on her lips, his hips began to twitch and spasm.  With a cry he hunched his
hips upwards, burying himself fully inside of her as his hot seed splashed
into her depths.  As he basked in the afterglow of the most intense orgasm
of his life, she fell forward onto him, nuzzling her head into his neck. 
Happily sated, he enfolded her in a loose embrace.  The muscles of her cunt
continued to contract around him, milking him of every last drop of cum.

   Without warning, he felt a brief but intense stab of pain from his neck
and then he was climaxing again, thrusting his hips convulsively up into
her.  Panicking, he cried out and struggled desperately to free himself,
but she held him down with ease.  As the strength seemed to flow from his
body, his struggles subsided and then ceased altogether.

   Mia, for that was the woman in red's name, at least in this time and
place, experienced her own release the second Larry's blood began spurting
into her mouth.  Her orgasm only intensified as she consumed more and more
of his blood, his life, the very essence of his being.  Beneath her she
felt and heard his heart falter and then go still.  Pulling back, she
licked at his neck, cleaning it of every last drop of blood and, just as
importantly, getting her saliva into the small holes which now pierced his
jugular vein.  She watched intently as the wounds closed, making certain
that there would be no sign of them.  Sitting up, she ran her tongue over
the fangs which protruded from her upper jaw, cleaning them of the last
drops of his blood before retracting them.  She then took his head in her
hands and, with a sharp twist, snapped his neck.

   She bent down and kissed his lips a final time.  "Sorry, Larry," she
whispered.  "I'm sure that this is one price you wouldn't have been willing
to pay." There was true regret in her voice.  Rolling off of him with a
sigh, she stood and pulled the dress down over her body.

   She didn't usually fuck her food, although she often did do her best to
make sure that her prey's last moments were pleasant ones.  It had almost
been a mistake this time.  It had taken every last bit of her compulsion to
keep him from taking more conscious note of the fact that her body, inside
and out, was room temperature.  It was for this reason that she preferred
the warm south to these cold northern cities: her condition was much less
noticeable when the air temperature was near that of a human body.  Not for
the first time, she wondered why her Master had insisted that they come
here.

   Again she looked at the body with a sigh of regret.  She hadn't been
able to help herself.  The sound of all the racing hearts at the nightclub,
the smell of all of the pheromones, the very texture of thoughts clouded
heavily with lust, had excited her to an uncontrollable frenzy.

   Larry wasn't her usual type.  He was obviously employed, a productive
member of society.  He would be missed.  She usually fed on the criminals
and the homeless who lived on the fringe of society.  One's with no family,
no friends, no one to notice when they went inexplicably and eternally
missing.  Not that there weren't benefits to her choice this evening: Larry
was far more robust than her usual prey, more full of life.  She would
likely not have to feed again for a week.

   If only she hadn't had to kill him.  In the past she had tried to take
just a small amount of blood from her victims, blurring their memories so
they wouldn't even notice.  It hadn't worked; like eating the chinese food
of proverb, she had been ravenously hungry again in less than an hour.  It
was then that she had learned that it wasn't truly blood on which she fed,
but life.  And anything less than a whole life was much the same as no life
at all.

   She set about removing all traces of her presence.  She gathered the
buttons she had torn loose earlier, placed them in his shirt pocket and
hung the garment in his closet.  She took another shirt from the closet and
folded it and his pants neatly over the chair in his bedroom.  She then
went to the bathroom and, after locating a hand towel, wiped down every
surface she might have touched, finishing by wiping the sticky evidence of
their lovemaking from his shriveled cock before tucking the towel into her
purse.

   She next dressed Larry in his boxer shorts, arranged his body in a
natural sleeping position and pulled the covers up to his chin.  The
illusion that he had died in his sleep wouldn't hold up if the broken neck
were noticed, but sometimes the overworked coroner's staff overlooked such
things, seeing only what they wanted to see in their haste to complete yet
another thankless job.

   Recalling a large curtain in the living room, she drew it to the side
and was rewarded by the sight of a small balcony.  This ready means of
escape would allow her to enhance the illusion of natural death.  Striding
back to the front door, she made sure that all three locks were secure and
then fastened the chain.

   Putting her back to the door, she tried to think of anything she might
have missed.  There were a ridiculous number of people who had seen her
leave the nightclub with Larry.  She had erased the event from the memories
of several club goers, but there had been far too many people to blur them
all.  There was also the cab driver who had brought them here.  She had
been so lost to the hunger, so absorbed with the imminent feeding, that it
hadn't even occurred to her to alter his recollections.

   She suppressed a sudden surge of fear.  Her kind had but one true law:
do not allow mortals to discover their existence.  She may have come
entirely too close to breaking that law tonight.  She had been told by her
Master that any who violated this commandment would feel the wrath of all
of their kind.  Other than her Master, she had never met another vampire,
but the thought of the punishment that he alone could bring down upon her
head was enough to send a shiver up her spine.

   As she considered her Master, her lingering fears were consumed by a
surge of hatred and loathing.  She could feel him in her mind even now,
like a small knot of emotion on the fringes of her consciousness. 
Amusement drifted across the surface of that knot like oil on a pond,
letting her know that he was aware of the turmoil of her emotions and found
her inability to control them funny.  As her hatred grew, so did the
amusement emanating from the knot, such was his contempt for her.

   Gritting her teeth, she pushed the thoughts of her Master aside.  She
went out on the terrace and looked down.  At this time of night, there were
still plenty of people on the streets and someone would surely notice if
she made the ten story leap to the sidewalk.  She would need to take
another route.  She stood motionless for a moment, her eyes closed in
concentration, her will focused inward.  She was so absorbed in this
exercise that she didn't notice when a few drops of Larry's seed fell from
between her thighs to the floor of the balcony.

   In response to her exercise of will, the skin on her forearms, hands and
feet rippled and changed, shooting forth countless numbers of nearly
microscopic hooks, much like those on the feet of a gecko.  Once the change
was complete, she quickly scrambled up the side of the concrete building
and then leapt from rooftop to rooftop until she was blocks from the site
of her feeding.  When she finally located an alley with no pedestrian
traffic, she jumped to the pavement, her knees bending only slightly to
absorb the six story fall.  After peering around the alley intently to
ensure that there were no witnesses, she prepared to run the remaining
distance to her home.

   Suddenly, her eyes narrowed maliciously.  On second thought, she would
take a cab home.  Still wearing the same red dress that she had worn to the
nightclub, the dress that hundreds of witnesses had seen.  There would be
no tampering with the driver's memory.  The bond that had formed when her
Master had given her the so called Gift prevented her from acting directly
to bring about his end, but even the bond left room to act if she were
careful.  Even this small act of reckless rebellion caused her to double
over in pain, but some things were worth suffering for.  Clenching her
teeth, she walked slowly to a busier street and hailed a cab.

   The cab dropped her off in what had been a wealthy residential
neighborhood in the cities prime, but was now starting to go to seed.  It
was still a decent enough area that she and her Master could easily pass
themselves off as professionals, but not so nice that they would be
pressured to socialize with the neighbors.  People here minded their own
business, which is exactly what her Master wanted.  She walked a block down
the street and around a corner.  It would have been entirely too blatant to
have the cabby drop her off at her precise residence.  The resulting pain
would have been severe and would have persisted long enough for him to
know.

   Ducking through a darkened yard, she approached a nondescript house and
entered through the back door.  She found her Master sitting in the living
room watching CNN, impeccably dressed, as always, in an expensive suit and
tie.  As he stood to face her, she barely withheld a sneer.  The old adage
that familiarity breeds contempt is especially true for immortals whose
familiarity with each other could grow over the span of centuries.  Mia
loathed the being that stood before her, the being that she was compelled
to serve for eternity.

   In life he had been known as Arthur Pendleton and he had grown up in
England during the Georgian period.  The arrogance that came with being a
citizen of one of the greatest imperial nations at the height of its power
had stuck with him even after he had received the Gift in an alley of some
backwater city in Asia.  A Gift that had turned him from a sailor in the
Royal Navy into an immortal.

   "I see that you have fed, my dear," he said, a slight English accent
still perceptible in his voice.  "Did you remember to make certain that
your food wouldn't rise?"

   Mia couldn't keep the contempt from her voice as she answered, "Yes,
Master.  I broke his neck." How could he think that she would forget such a
thing after more than a century of hard learned habit?

   "And you are certain you left no trace?"

   Her voice dripping with sarcasm, Mia answered, "No, Master.  I led the
police straight to our door."

   She clamped down on the pain that shot through her body at the half lie,
trying to let as little of it flow through the bond as possible.  She saw
his face harden and knew that she was about to pay the price for allowing
her feelings for him to show.

   "I do not care for your tone, Bergthora," he murmured.

   Mia winced at the sound of her original, given name.  That he used it
was a sure sign of his displeasure.

   Leaning slightly against the back of the couch, he continued in a calm,
lecturing voice, "There was once a great man who considered the question of
whether it is better to have those you rule love you or fear you.  He
concluded - hmmm, how did he phrase it?  Oh, yes, now I recall - 'it would
be best to be both loved and feared.  But since the two rarely come
together, anyone compelled to choose will find greater security in being
feared than in being loved.'"

   His eyes narrowed with malice and his voice went cold.  "I know that you
do not love me and never will.  So, fear will have to do.  Bend over the
couch, my dear."

   Mia did as he commanded without hesitation.  The nature of the bond
between them compelled absolute obedience.  Out of the corner of her eye,
she watched as he removed his belt, twining the end around his hand a few
times.  The end opposite the buckle.  This was going to be one of the bad
ones.

   Arthur smiled slightly as he stepped towards his submissively bent over
fledgling.  A sadist in life, that base nature had only been amplified by
the Gift and the years that followed.  He reached down and flipped the hem
of her dress up over her hips, his eyes barely lingering on the lush
alabaster cheeks that he knew so well, before traveling to her face.  He
reveled in the pain of his victims, and that pain registered most clearly
in their eyes.

   He raised the belt above his head and brought it down swiftly with every
bit of his supernatural strength.  The report of leather striking flesh
resounded like a gunshot through the small room.  Pleasure suffused his
being as he relished the intense pain which flashed in her eyes.  He
glanced down quickly and watched as the long red furrow left in her flesh
by the buckle swiftly closed, leaving the skin whole and unblemished. 
Soon, the only sign of injury that remained was the thin stream of bright
red blood which trickled slowly down her buttocks to her thighs.

   Again and again he brought the belt down on her unresisting form, until
even her immortal poise began to crack.  He noticed with delight that blood
stained her chin from where she had bitten through her lip in the throes of
agony and that her entire upper body quaked and shivered in pain.  He took
a step back to admire his handiwork, watching gleefully as copious
quantities of blood ran in small rivers down her legs to the floor.  The
actual injuries were, of course, no longer apparent, but the pain remained,
and that was what was important.

   He still wasn't finished with her.  Reaching down he undid the zipper of
his pants and fished out his rampant cock.  With a small focus of will, he
caused the skin of his member to change and sprout bony protrubances up and
down its length.

   He smiled as he saw her wince at the sight of his altered dick and
mockingly told her, "Reach back and spread your arse cheeks for me, my
dear."

   Mia obeyed as the bond required.  He stepped up behind her and, pausing
only a moment to position the head of his cock at the pucker of her anus,
thrust savagely forward, watching with amusement as his changed skin tore
at her delicate folds.  Cruelly pierced, Mia reared upwards, crying out in
agony.

   Rutting into his beautiful slave, Arthur focused his will on his
fledgling's mind, delving back through more than a century of her
accumulated memories until he found the one he sought.

   As her Master sawed his barbed cock back and forth in her rectal cavity,
Mia was further tormented by the memory of the day she had received the
Gift.  She whimpered as it swelled upwards, unbeckoned and unwanted, from
the dark recesses of her mind..

   The raiders had rolled into her village at dusk, demanding food for the
hungry Ottoman army traveling a day's ride to the south.  Her village had
nothing to give as the Czar's men had taken all that they had the day
before.  The Ottomans had refused to believe this, and had killed the men
of the village one by one.  After each death, they had stated that the
murder would cease if the villagers showed them the hidden cache.  But
there had been nothing to show.



   When all of the men were dead, the soldiers had turned upon the women.
The Ottomans had taken Mia in every way that a man can violate a woman, as
cruelly if not as painfully as her Master was taking her now.  Afterwards,
as she lay in the street, broken and bleeding, the moonlight had suddenly
been blotted out by the silhouette of a man.

   He had bent down to her and asked quietly, "Do you wish to live, girl?"

   She had croaked out, "Yes.  Yes, I want to live."

   He had leaned even closer, peering dispassionately in her face.  "Do you
wish to live even if it means serving me for the rest of your existence."

   He had frightened her, but she had feared her rapidly approaching demise
even more.  She had nodded her assent.

   With a mocking smile, he had then told her, "As you wish." With a
fingernail that was suddenly long and sharp, he had opened a vein in his
wrist and held it to her mouth.  While his blood dripped down her throat,
he had bent and tore at her neck with teeth that were far too long and
sharp.  Her vision had faded and then gone black.

   She cursed that decision now, wishing fervently with all of her being
that she had chosen to die with the rest of her village.

   With a harsh laugh, her master broke her from her reverie by bringing
the belt down again upon her helplessly clenched buttocks.  He thrust
himself violently forward into her whimpering form and she knew that he was
cumming deep within her.  He held himself inside her for a moment longer
and then, with a muttered curse, pulled himself free.

   He slapped her ass lightly.  "The sun will be rising soon.  Go clean
yourself off so we can retire."

   Cowering and defeated, Mia stood and hastened to obey.

   She had taken only a few steps when her master asked, in a dangerous
tone, "Forgetting something?"

   She immediately turned and dropped to her knees as her Master laughed at
the look of revulsion on her face.  Leaning forward, she took his still
hard cock into her mouth, cleaning it quickly of every vestige of her blood
and his seed, thankful that she no longer produced fecal matter.  When she
was finished, he took his shaft in hand and used his cock to slap her
lightly on her cheeks and forehead before tucking it away.

   "Hurry now, my dear.  The sun comes."

   Once she had cleaned the blood from her lower body and wiped the tear
streaks from her face, Mia hastened back to the living room and her Master.
He took her arm in his and led her to the basement.  There, in what had
once been a coal cellar, were two identical steel coffins.  They didn't
need to pass their daytime dormancy in such cliched contrivances; they
could spend the day any place that was protected from the sun, even a bed
if they wished.  From a practical standpoint, though, the caskets were
difficult to beat.

   Dormancy bore a far closer resemblance to true death than it did to the
slumber of mortals.  While dormant, Mia and her master were helpless,
completely unaware of their surroundings.  They would not, could not, wake
no matter what was done to their defenseless bodies.

   The heavy steel clad boxes with the large bolt locks that could only be
operated from within protected them from far more than sun light.  While
inside the protective casings, the house could burn down around them and
they would remain unharmed.  If any intruders happened upon them, the
strong locks would likely hold them at bay, hopefully long enough for dusk
to fall.

   Mia settled into the softly padded silken interior of her casket; her
wounds already healed and the pain faded.  Only the humiliation remained.
With all the blood she had lost, she also knew that her recent meal would
not last anywhere near the week she had anticipated.  She would need to
feed again soon.

   As she worked the mechanism to lock her coffin tight, her jaw clenched
in rage.  Night after countless night she had been forced to endure similar
pain and humiliation at the hands of her Master.  She could endure no more.
As she had every night for years, she vowed to see her Master dead, even if
it meant her own destruction.  If she were fortunate, that destruction had
already been set in motion by the simple act of taking a cab.

   Arthur watched his fledgling crawl into her casket before doing the
same. He had thoroughly enjoyed the night's dalliance, but it had been
contrived.  Although what he had told her about the old adage of a ruler
choosing fear over love was technically true, Machiavelli did have more to
say on the subject.  He had warned that one should take care lest the fear
turn to hatred.  In this case, however, hatred was exactly what he desired.
It would take hate of incredible magnitude to push Mia to rebel fully, and
he had come to the conclusion that her rebellion was precisely what he
needed to accomplish his purpose in this tiny city.

   It shouldn't take much more, he decided.  When he rose again, he would
repeat what he had done to Mia with a mortal woman.  A woman whose flesh
wasn't so...  resilient.  Forcing Mia to watch such wanton cruelty should
be enough to push her the rest of the way over the edge.

   The sun rose above the horizon, and fledgling and master gasped and grew
rigid, their thoughts and schemes consumed by the waiting dark.

   Chapter 2

   Mia's eyes snapped open as she came fully awake the moment the sun
dropped below the horizon.  Immediately, she pushed her awareness outwards
through the house, seeking any presence other than her Master.  Finding
none, she sighed in disappointment before throwing back the latch to her
coffin and lifting the lid.  It was too much to expect that the police
would track her down so quickly, but she had dared to hope.  A metallic
clang sounded from her left as her Master emerged from his own casket.

   He looked her up and down with a thin smile, before telling her, "Go
dress yourself in something more appropriate for a chilly evening, child.
Hurry, now, we have much to do tonight."

   Mia looked down at the slinky red dress she still wore.  While she
didn't feel the cold, at least not unless the temperature was far enough
below freezing that her fluids turned to ice and slowed her movement, she
understood what her Master meant.  They would be going out among the
mortals tonight and he did not wish to draw attention to themselves.  Mia
hurriedly ran upstairs to change.

   When she walked into the living room five minutes later, wearing jeans,
sweatshirt, athletic socks and tennis shoes, she found her Master waiting
for her with a long black trench coat added to his usual attire.  He looked
her over with a disdainful grimace, but grunted his acceptance of her
choice of dress.  Arm in arm they strolled out into the night, keeping
their pace to a slow mortal walk.

   A half hour later, they arrived in Shadyside, one of the wealthier
residential districts of the city.  As they walked past each of the fine
houses, Mia could feel her Master extending his consciousness into the
structures, taking inventory of the lives within.  He was looking for
something specific.

   Finally, he paused in front of a medium sized brick house and, with a
grunt of satisfaction, strode up the walk to the front door.  Arthur
knocked, and, shortly, a pretty, young woman answered.  She looked at them
in confusion for a moment and Mia could feel her Master exerting his will.

   The young woman's eyes glazed over slightly and, in a befuddled tone,
she said, "Oh, Mr.  Baker, it's nice to see you.  My parents are out of
town for the week and I'm just watching the place for them.  Anything I can
do for you?"

   Arthur smiled at the young woman, "Hello, Sarah.  Would you mind if we
came inside and left a note for when your parents get home?"

   "Of course, Mr.  Baker, come on in."

   For the next hour, Arthur made Mia watch as he did to Sarah the same as
he had done to Mia the night before.  Only this poor young woman didn't
heal.  Arthur laughed and taunted the poor woman throughout her ordeal,
until at last, his lust sated, he drained her of life, leaving the husk on
the living room floor for her parents to find.

   Mia was sickened by the display.  It troubled her enough that she had to
take mortal lives to sustain her own, but this ...  this was pure,
unadulterated evil.  She renewed her vow to bring it to an end.

   As Arthur began to clean the area of their presence, she gathered her
courage and asked, "Master, would you mind if I went hunting?  I'm feeling
weak after last night."

   Arthur merely waved her off with a condescending smile.

   Fleeing the house that now smelled of agony and death, Mia ran quickly
toward the Hill District, blurring the minds of the mortals that she passed
so that they would not remember a woman moving far faster than could
possibly be natural.  The buildings that flashed by her gradually made the
transition from the fine, well kept manses of the wealthy residents of
Shadyside, to the solid, institutional buildings of the University of
Pittsburgh, to the seemingly endless rows of medical buildings and,
finally, to the worn and poorly maintained homes and buildings of her
target area.

   Within moments of entering the area, she located exactly what she
sought. A large man, arrogant with what he perceived as strength, stood
leaning against the corner of a derelict building which was so thickly
covered with gang tags that it was impossible to determine its original
color.  She watched from the shadows as several people approached him
furtively, passing him cash in exchange for tiny packets.  When he was
alone, she approached him slowly, feigning nervousness.

   She stood in front of him, looking down at his feet, doing her best to
project an aura of innocence mixed with desperation.  "Please, sir.  I
really need a fix, but I don't have any money.  Any chance we could work
something out?"

   He regarded her silently for a moment, and she felt his eyes running up
and down her body like a caress.  She almost laughed at the lust that she
could feel rising strongly within him.

   In a gruff tone, he responded, "Tell you what, bitch.  You suck my dick
and I'll give you a half gram.  That's all your skanky ass is worth."

   Mia didn't know whether to be insulted or not.  She had no idea what
exactly he was selling.  Flashing a quavering smile, she replied with a
simple, "Ok."

   He led her back into the darkness of an alley.  He put his back to the
wall and pulled a gun from his waistband, tucking it into a coat pocket
before dropping his pants to his knees.

   His cock was at least ten inches long and was as thick as her wrist. 
Involuntarily, she let out a gasp at the sight of this magnificent specimen
of manhood.

   He laughed at her.  "You like the big dick, don't you, bitch?"

   Instead of responding, she lowered herself to her knees and leaned
forward to run her tongue up and down his length before taking the plum
sized head into her mouth, sucking it lightly.  She pumped her lips over
the last five inches of his member, seeking and eventually finding the
large, wide vein that ran, pulsing with life, up its length.  On her next
downstroke, she extended her fangs, moaning in ecstasy at the feel of his
hot blood gushing into her mouth from the gaping rent she had torn in the
vulnerable vessel.

   At the first touch of her teeth upon his sensitive manhood, the man
gasped in pain and reached for his pistol.  Instantly, though, the pain was
replaced with previously unimaginable pleasure, and he took her head gently
in his hands, the gun forgotten.  His knees gave way, and he slid slowly
down the wall.  Mia followed his movements easily, supporting his weight
tenderly as his strength faltered, keeping his hard length firmly in her
mouth.  Then he was cumming, shooting his semen into her mouth along with
his blood and his life.  She devoured them all hungrily.

   After she had taken from him everything that he had to give, Mia dragged
his body deeper into the alley before partially concealing it with trash.
She regarded her intentionally incompetent efforts for a moment before
bending and pushing her fangs through his jugular, quickly wiping away any
saliva before the wounds could close.

   Satisfied, she turned and left the alley without making any effort to
conceal herself.  Brazenly, she caught a cab a mere block from the body and
rode it to within a block of her sanctuary.  The resulting pain was enough
to double her over, and the driver, an ancient, wrinkled man with kind
eyes, came back to assist her, offering to walk her to her door. 
Shuddering at the thought of how Arthur would react if she accepted the act
of kindness, she politely declined and slowly and painfully pulled herself
out into the street.

   She waited until the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn
before hurrying into the house and the safety of its basement.  Mercifully,
Arthur was already ensconced in his casket.  She settled into her own with
the satisfaction of knowing that she had managed to work around the bonds
of compulsion and had left a clear trail that led directly to this house,
not once but twice.  The long nightmare of her existence could come to a
close this very day.

   Chapter 3



   Lieutenant Thomas McNelly brought his battered Ford to a stop in front
of the apartment building and waited for the engine to rattle itself out
before laboriously prying his well over six foot frame from the cramped
interior.  He was not a handsome man by any common definition of the word.
Although still shy of forty, years of caffeine and nicotine addiction
combined with many sleepless nights had put gray streaks in his thinning
brown hair and had left spiderwebs of lines around his mouth and eyes.  It
didn't help that these features were on a face that even his mother had
been known to describe as "unremarkable."

   Still, there was something about him, perhaps the twinkle of kindness in
his eyes , the deep smile wrinkles at the edges of his mouth or the air of
carefree good humor that surrounded him, that inspired people to trust him.
As he quickly walked toward the building, he showed no evidence of that
good humor.  Frowning in irritation he counted four - no - five, black and
whites blocking off the street, lights flashing blue and red.

   He slowed enough to allow a short, stout uniformed sergeant to catch up
and greet him, "Nice of you to finally join us, Lieutenant."

   "Fuck you, Mark," Tom answered lightly.  "What can I say?  Your mom was
just too horny to let me leave."

   "Ha.  Funny." Despite the sarcastic tone, Sergeant Mark Kimmel did have
a grin stretched across his broad weathered face.  The grin abruptly
vanished.  "You're going to love this one, Tom."

   "Before we get started, how about sending some of these squad cars away?
We're drawing a lot of attention here.  The last thing we want is more
media attention."

   The last was an understatement.  There had been at least three murders
and more than a dozen missing persons in less than two months and there had
been no leads whatsoever.  The media had been getting brutal, the articles
growing increasingly scathing.  The chief and the mayor were unhappy, to
say the least.

   "Sure, no problem." Mark put his words to action and began to circulate
among the patrolmen, gruffly giving orders.  Soon only the two of them were
left.

   Tom glanced around the suddenly empty street.  "No ambulance.  No
coroner's van.  Please tell me that the body hasn't been moved yet."

   Mark gave a quick shake of his head.  "Sorry, boss.  The body's been
gone since yesterday.  No one suspected foul play until the autopsy this
morning.  If it's any consolation, the CME's livid.  He's threatening to
fire the poor schmucks who collected the body and didn't notice that he was
a gallon or so short and had a broken neck.  Although in their defense,
there's no sign of forced entry and no sign of a struggle.  The whole place
is meticulously neat.  The guy had a bit of an OCD thing going, I think. 
Murder wouldn't have been my first guess, either."

   "Any good news?"

   "The guy's family all live out of state.  They've been waiting for the
body to be released before coming in to close up his affairs.  So, the
apartment hasn't been disturbed since the guys from the coroner's office
were there."

   They started walking into the building.  "How was the body found?"

   "The victim didn't show up for work yesterday.  First day he's missed in
ten years.  His boss tried to call him and, when there was no answer, sent
an intern over to check on him.  The building manager unlocked the door for
him, but the chain was in place, so they called us.  The patrolman who
responded to the call broke the chain, found the body and called the
coroner."

   Tom followed Mark to the elevator and waited while Mark found and
pressed the button for the tenth floor.  "Has anyone talked to the
manager?"

   "Yeah.  Nothing there.  Said the victim was always quiet, paid his rent
in advance.  Yadda.  Yadda."

   "What do we know about the victim?"

   "Name is Lawrence Eugene Scripps.  Accountant.  Worked for that big firm
downtown.  Uh, Morris &..."

   "Appelton?"

   "Yeah, that's the place.  Never missed work.  Worked almost as much
overtime as you.  Everyone apparently liked him well enough, but no close
friends."

   "Injuries?  Cause of death?"

   "Same as the others.  Death was caused by massive blood loss.  No
apparent wounds.  Neck broken post mortem.  It looks like our killer is
moving on up to the nice part of town."

   "Shit."

   "Yeah."

   "Do we know the time of death?"

   "Not with any accuracy.  Bodies don't hold heat well when there's no
blood.  He was room temperature when the coroners got here.  Best we can
figure is sometime Monday night."

   They pulled latex gloves onto their hands as they walked down the hall
and ducked under the crime scene tape stretched across one of the doors. 
"Fingerprints?  Physical evidence?"

   "The CSI boys left right before you got here.  They found a number of
areas that had been wiped down recently.  They found some prints in other
places, but I wouldn't hold my breath.  I'd bet my dear, sweet dick to your
dollar that they all belong to our dearly departed Mr.  Scripps.  They used
their vacuum in the bedroom, but you know how hit and miss fiber evidence
is.  Other than that, the place is clean."

   "Your dick isn't worth a dollar."

   "Hell, your mother pays me a lot more than that for it."

   "Ha.  Funny," Tom parroted Mark's earlier words back to him with a
chuckle.

   They contemplated the apartment in silence.  The place was immaculately
spotless to the point that it looked more like a showroom than someone's
residence.  The IKEA furniture was dust free and highly polished.  Tom
snorted slightly in disgust: who actually polished IKEA furniture?  The
thin beige carpet was so clean that Tom knew that a steam cleaner had to be
lurking in one of the closets.

   The bedroom was the only area in disarray.  The coroners had thrown the
blankets on the floor and the pillows were stacked on a cedar chest at the
foot of the bed.  Using the end of a pencil, Tom poked unenthusiastically
through the clothes folded over the bedroom chair.

   "Tom?"

   "Yeah, Mark?"

   "How do you suppose the killer does it?  Gets the blood out, I mean."

   "I wish I knew.  I'd also like to know what the fuck he does with it
once it's out.  On second thought, I take that back.  Some things are
better left as a mystery."

   Tom pulled back the living room curtain and walked out onto the balcony.
Leaning his elbows on the railing he looked down at the street before
turning and peering up and down the side of the apartment building.  Mark
came to the doorway.  "Think that's how our perp got in?"

   Tom sighed, "Only if our killer is the amazing fucking Spiderman."

   Tom moved to reenter the apartment, when something caught his eye. 
"Hey, Mark?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Come here and take a look at this."

   Mark ambled over and the men stood toe to toe, staring down at a glob of
goo on the concrete floor of the balcony.

   "That what I think it is?"

   "Sure looks like a cum stain to me.  Get one of the boys from CSI back
over here to scrape that shit up.  Its been cold the past few days.  If
it's from Monday night, it might still be able to tell us something."

   "Sure thing, boss." Mark grabbed the radio from his belt to make the
call.

   "Oh, and Mark?  Now that we have reason to believe that it wasn't an
intruder, that Larry had company on the night he died, send some patrolmen
to the cab companies to see if anyone remembers dropping him and a guest
off."

   While Mark spoke rapidly into the radio, Tom stood and stared at the
glob that just might be the first real break in this nightmare.  The killer
was almost certainly a man; it took too much strength to cleanly snap
someone's neck for a female perp to be at all likely.  This glob of DNA
might be from the killer himself.  Tom could only hope that it was, and
that it led to a quick arrest.  People were dying in his city, people that
he had vowed to protect.  Tom wasn't naive, he knew that many of his fellow
officers didn't take the oath at all seriously, that for them this was
merely a job to pay the bills.  It was different for Tom.  He had known
what he wanted to be from the moment his father, also a career police
officer, had given him a toy badge and gun for his fifth birthday.  "To
protect and serve" were not merely words to Tom, they were a calling.

   Mark stuck his head out through the doorway, interrupting Tom's
thoughts. "Uh, Tom?  CSI is on the way."

   "Good."

   "Uh, that's not all.  Two more bodies were found within the last hour on
opposite sides of town.  Both drained of blood, but both have injuries. 
Other than the snapped neck, I mean."

   "Shit." There was usually a much longer break between the killings. 
"Think they're our boy's work?"

   "Only one way to find out, boss."

   "True, that.  You riding with me?"

   Mark considered this for a minute before replying, "Yeah, why not?  I'm
in the mood for living dangerously."

   As they settled into the tiny vehicle, Mark eyed his companion
critically, "So, any luck finding a good woman?"

   Tom rolled his eyes.  Mark, a staunch proponent of the allegedly
innumerable benefits of marriage, had been nagging him on the subject since
they had been in the Academy together.  "Nope, not yet," Tom replied
without rancor.

   "Pity.  All that fast food is making you fat."

   Tom involuntarily sucked his gut in.  He did his best to keep in shape,
jogging and going to the gym whenever the opportunities arose, but the
opportunities were arising less and less these days and it showed.  He had
taken to keeping the front of his suit buttoned up to hide the paunch that
was forming on his midriff.  It figured that Mark would notice anyway.

   In reply, Tom eyed his friend's ample waistline, "Yeah, married life has
certainly helped you stay slim and trim."

   Mark laughed, "Muscle.  It's all muscle, I tell ya."

   Both men suddenly remembered what awaited them at their destination, and
the laughter choked off.

   Chapter 4 n

   Arthur strolled through the city's cultural district, feeling a tinge of
excitement for the first time in decades.  It wasn't the upcoming show that
had him in this state, although he was curious to find out what passed for
opera in this backwater.  It was Mia.  The girl had always been something
of a disappointment.  Even after a century, he still had not managed to
purge her of such mortal conceits as compassion and mercy.  So, he had
abandoned his plans to make her his eternal companion and had begun to
shape her for another use.

   For years he had felt the resentment and disdain growing within her.  He
had pruned and tended these emotions with care both through the abuse of
her mind and body and with little excesses like that which had occurred the
previous night.  Now his careful gardening was about to pay dividends.

   The girl actually thought to destroy him.  Even now she was out in the
city doing her best to work around the ties of compulsion that bound her to
him in order to bring about his end.  He could feel Mia's pain through the
bond that she was actively seeking to betray.  At the very thought of her
pathetic rebellion, he threw his head back in laughter, heedless of the
stares this drew in the crowded street.

   Even in such a bold undertaking, though, Mia had proven to be overly
cautious, even timid.  Fortunately, when he had forced her to watch as he
defiled the young woman the night before, the last of her reservations had
finally faded.  Incidently, it had also increased the pleasure he had
derived from the act.

   The conflict would be coming soon, and it promised to be every bit as
dramatic and entertaining as he had hoped.  And when others of his kind
came to seek vengeance against the one who had betrayed the secrecy of
their existence, it would be Mia who felt their wrath.  Meanwhile, the
inevitable war between mortal and vampire which would grow from the
conflict would not only give him the opportunity to indulge freely and
openly in all of the pleasures of the flesh, but would also make the one he
sought in coming to this city, the one whom he had been seeking for
centuries, reveal herself.  He knew his Maker was here, and he would find
her.

   He joined the growing crowd in front of the Byham theater, idly wishing
that top hats and canes hadn't gone out of fashion.  They had added an air
of elegance to such affairs that was now sadly lacking.  Shortly, the doors
opened and he filed in with the rest, a wolf among cattle.  As he moved
towards his seat, he casually brushed the minds of those around him. 
Finding a local magistrate, Arthur set a few minor suggestions deep in his
mind.  They would likely never activate, but it always paid to strengthen
his position whenever the opportunity arose.

   The next few hours passed quickly.  The performance was ...  adequate.
Nothing to compare to the great opera houses of London and Paris, of
course, but acceptable nevertheless.  He joined the cattle when they stood
to applaud the performers after the curtain closed, but he had already put
the show from his mind.  Now his eyes searched among the crowd, seeking an
insurance policy against the coming violence.  A mere two rows back, he
found what he sought.

   He followed the couple as they left the theater, laughing happily and
reliving memorable parts of the night's entertainment.  As they passed
beyond the brightly lit streets of the cultural district to the shadowy
rows of parking garages, long dormant instincts began to rise within them.
Their pace quickened and they glanced behind them with greater and greater
frequency.  The happy conversation came to an abrupt end, and Arthur could
hear their hearts quicken in their chests.  Part of them remembered the
countless millennia spent on the African savannah.  Part of them recalled
what it was to be an animal.  That part knew that they had become prey.

   By the time they reached their car, they were almost running.  Gasping
for breath, the man fumbled for his keys, pressing the button to unlock the
doors over and over again.  They threw the doors open, and dove inside the
perceived safety of the vehicle.  Arthur heard them gasp in relief as the
locks re-engaged.  The moment the engine caught, the man threw the car into
gear and sped towards the garage exit.  Arthur smiled with amusement from
the shadows.

   Arthur easily kept pace with his quarry as they weaved recklessly
through the city traffic before finally pulling into a two car garage
attached to a stylish house in one of the affluent residential areas just
outside the city.  As the garage door began to close, Arthur heard them
laughing, deriding themselves for giving into fears which suddenly seemed
so foolish.  With a final burst of speed, Arthur ducked under the garage
door, which slammed shut behind him like the sealing of a tomb.

   They sensed his presence, and the laughter cut off.  Arthur listened as
the man issued tersely whispered instructions to his mate, telling her to
lock the car doors behind him, that it was just some punk and he would take
care of it.  The man came at him around the back of the car, swinging a
tire iron.  Arthur effortlessly caught the man's wrist and took the weapon
from him, reveling in the scent of fear that came off the man in waves.  It
was for the man that he had come, and causing him physical damage would
thwart Arthur's purpose.  Still, Arthur decided, it would be helpful if the
man were more malleable.  Arthur gathered his will and drove it into the
dark parts of the man's mind, opening the doors that held all of the man's
fears, nightmares and insecurities at bay.  Gibbering in terror, the man
collapsed to the floor in a growing puddle of urine.

   Walking along the car, Arthur regarded the plumply pretty woman who
cowered within.  He had no real use for her, but it was not in his nature
to pass by on such an opportunity.  Again he exerted his will.  The woman's
eyes widened in panic as her arm moved, seemingly of its own volition, to
unlock and open the door.  Arthur gently helped her to stand and, dragging
her husband behind him, led her into the place that had been, but a few
moments before, the couple's home and refuge.

   Arthur quickly located the living room and took a seat on the plush
leather couch.  Reaching into the woman's mind, he made several
adjustments. The fear faded from her eyes, replaced by lust.  Sinking to
her knees in front of Arthur, she desperately undid the zipper to his
pants. His engorged manhood immediately popped free, striking her in the
chin.  She swooped forward, taking most of his length into her mouth,
lashing the underside with her tongue.

   Arthur reached next to the couch and grasped her husband by the hair,
pulling the man to his knees so he could observe his wife's actions.  After
a moment's consideration, Arthur reached into the man's mind and diminished
his terror just enough to ensure that he could comprehend what he was
seeing.

   Arthur enjoyed the woman's oral ministrations for a few minutes before
he made yet another adjustment, releasing her mind while retaining control
of her physically.  There was no pause in the rapid pumping of her lips up
and down the length of his cock, but her expression reverted from lust to
fear and hatred.  Arthur smiled.  Much better.

   After twenty minutes the woman began to tire, the pumping of her lips
slowing, the movement of her tongue becoming feeble.  With a gesture,
Arthur caused her to stand.  Reaching forward with a hand which had nails
that had suddenly grown into long sharp claws, Arthur tore her clothes from
her in a single savage swipe.  Arthur gestured again and the woman turned
and sat in his lap, taking his full length into her warm, wet cunt. 
Leaning slightly forward, the woman began to rapidly raise and lower
herself on Arthur's thick shaft, waves traveling through the soft flesh of
her wide, round ass each time it impacted with his loins.  With a slight
smile, Arthur reached yet again into the woman's mind, triggering orgasm
after orgasm, glorying in the waves of humiliation she exuded as she
experienced pleasure while riding the cock of her rapist.

   The woman's legs were quivering with exhaustion and rivers of sweat were
running down her back and ass when Arthur felt his own climax rising.  He
pushed the woman from his lap to the floor, making her twist around quickly
so that his seed sprayed across her face and chest.  The look of horror and
disgust on her husband's face added to Arthur's satisfaction.  After doing
a quick examination of the woman's mind, Arthur released her completely,
and she collapsed sobbing to the floor, curling herself into a fetal ball.

   Arthur then turned his attention to the husband.  Arthur grabbed the
man's hair and pulled his head up and to the side to expose his neck.. 
Like a ravenous beast, Arthur lunged forward, burying his teeth into the
man's throat.  When the man's heart began to slow and falter, Arthur used
the clawlike nail on his forefinger to open the vein on his wrist and then
pressed the wound to the man's lips.  When the man's heart grew still,
Arthur threw him to the floor.  Propping his feet up on the sobbing woman,
Arthur turned the tv on to CNN and settled back into the couch to wait for
his new fledgling to rise.  A fledgling whose height, weight, and base
features were nearly identical to Arthur's.

   Chapter 5

   Mia lurked around the periphery of the ongoing investigation at the site
of the drug dealer's death, peering into the minds of the few policeman who
were left on the scene.  When she had awoken earlier in the evening she had
been sorely disappointed by the fact that she and her Master continued to
exist, despite all of her efforts to lead the police to their lair. 
Obviously, they were in need of greater inspiration.  She decided that she
would have to kill one of their own.  The logical choice being the one who
was heading the investigation.  While she regretted the necessity, she
could not abide even one more night of servitude to the monster that was
her Master.

   She had spent the first hour of the evening trying to think of a
pretense she could use as a reason to leave the house for the third night
in a row without raising her Master's suspicions.  It had been a surprise
when none had been needed.  In the middle of one of the endless shows he
watched on tv, her Master had stood and unceremoniously announced that he
was going to the opera and that she could pass the night however she
pleased.  It had taken all of her self control not to show her contempt for
this beast who remained so oblivious of her intentions, despite the bond.

   After waiting a short time to be certain that Arthur was well and truly
gone, Mia had come to this crime scene to learn the identity and probable
location of the man she had decided must die.  Now she had it.  Tonight
would be Tom McNelly's last.

   Tom pulled his decrepit car into the small reserved lot outside of the
drab apartment building in Polish Hill that he called home.  Today had been
the worst in Tom's memory.  The drug dealer had been bad enough.  The
coroner had quickly confirmed that the wounds on the neck were inflicted
post mortem.  Which meant....just the thought of it made him clutch his
hands protectively over his groin.  Far, far worse had been the woman in
Shadyside.  Tom had been to a number of murder scenes over the years and
had thought himself immune to the sight and smell of the horrors that one
person could perpetrate upon another.  He had been wrong.  One look at that
poor, broken woman had been enough to send him running out the door to
empty the contents of his stomach into the carefully manicured topiary. 
The evidence there clearly showed that he had not been the first to do so.

   The worst part was that there was no apparent motive for any of the
recent slayings.  Nothing had been taken from woman's house, Larry's
apartment or the drug dealer's person.  The latter had more than a thousand
dollars and a gun in his coat pocket.  The only possibility that Tom could
think of was that the killer murdered his victims just for the sheer
pleasure of it.

   Tom vowed that when they caught the guy who was doing this, he would use
every ounce of his influence with the DA's office to make certain that they
pushed for the death penalty.  He would also kick the living shit out of
any defense attorney who dared try to get the guy off with an insanity
plea.

   Except it might not even be a guy.  They had quickly found the cabby who
had taken Lawrence Scripps and his guest from the nightclub to Scripps'
apartment.  The cabby had insisted that Scripps' companion was a blond
"hotty." The CSI team had also discovered that the blob of semen taken from
Scripps' balcony, while primarily belonging to Scripps himself, also
contained more than a trace of vaginal secretions.  It just didn't seem
possible that the perp could be a woman, especially in light of the scene
in Shadyside.  Could there be two serial killers working together, a man
and a woman?  It was uncommon, but it supposedly did happen.  Tom had sent
sketch artists to visit the cabby and the nightclub and should have a
composite by morning.  With luck he would have the woman, and the answers
he craved, by the end of the day.

   Halfway to his apartment, Tom decided that he couldn't face the night
without some liquid fortification.  Reversing his direction, he went to the
corner bar.  The bar, Zelda's Tavern, catered to the working class and,
typical of such places, its interior was plain, but clean.  The bar was
well stocked, but the only beers available on tap were Iron City and
Budweiser.  When he entered, the bartender gave him a friendly nod; Tom
didn't come here often enough for the man to know his name.  Tom sat
himself in one of the corner stools, ordered a double shot of JD with an
Iron City chaser and dedicated himself to drowning the day's images from
his mind.

   He had only been there a few minutes, staring down into the depths of
his beer, when he heard the barstool to his left being dragged outwards. 
"Hello," said a soft feminine voice, "It looks like you've had a rough
day."

   "Yeah, it was bad," Tom answered automatically.  Glancing towards the
speaker, he saw that she was a beautiful young blond, too well dressed for
a place like Zelda's.  Fishing into his jacket pocket, Tom pulled out his
badge and flashed it.  "Look, honey, I'm a cop.  There hasn't been any
solicitation, so I'm not going to try to bust you or hassle you, but you
really might want to take your business elsewhere."

   The young woman looked confused for a moment and then her eyes went cold
and flat.  "I'm not a prostitute," she said in a low, frosty voice, "You
just looked like a lost puppy that had been kicked a few times, so I
thought you could use someone to talk to.  But, now I think I'll do as you
suggest and 'take my business elsewhere.'"

   Tom immediately felt like shit, and admitted to himself that he deserved
to.  "I'm really sorry, miss.  You just look a lot better than this place's
usual clientele and I jumped to conclusions.  Occupational hazard.  Can we
start over?  Hi, I'm Tom," he said as he held out his hand.

   The woman appeared to have been slightly mollified by the apology and
indirect compliment, but she still took his hand as though it was covered
in festering boils.  "Mia," she said simply.

   Several hours and more than a few drinks later, Tom was leading the
beautiful Mia up the stairs to his apartment.  Never before had he met a
woman who was so easy to talk to, and he had talked.  A lot.  More than he
should have.  It was an odd role reversal for Tom, who had often inspired
confidences but rarely given them.  If Mia turned out to be with the media,
the chief was going to have a conniption.  But, he had to admit, even if
this turned out to be the case, it had been worth it.  Sharing his fears
and the guilt he felt over not being able to bring the killer to justice
had been almost like giving confession.  His soul and mind felt less
burdened then they had in years, and he had this kind woman to thank for
it.

   He was shocked that she was still with him.  When he had brought his
long monologue to an end,he had realized with embarrassment that he knew
nothing about her, that her part in the hours long conversation had been
limited to the occasional compassionate murmur of understanding. 
Shamefaced, he had noticed that she hadn't even touched her drink.  He had
been certain that the poor girl must think him a bore and had apologized
and said a hasty good night.  She had given him a look brimming with
compassion and had asked, "Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?" He
had gladly accepted the offer.

   He paused at one of the landings and turned toward Mia.  She flowed
willingly, even eagerly, into his arms and their lips met passionately. 
His tongue darted out and hers rose in response, the two twining together
in wanton abandon.  For a time he lost himself in the feel of her firm body
against his, her heavy breasts crushing into his chest, her soft lips
against his.

   She disengaged with a smile and grasped his wrist firmly, using it to
drag him toward the next flight of steps.  "Which floor?" she queried over
her shoulder as she pulled him along behind her.

   "Two more," he answered and then they were there.  Again she pressed
herself to him passionately, but suddenly disengaged.

   She looked down at their feet and, in a mildly embarrassed tone, asked,
"I really hate to ask, but would you mind if I took a quick shower first?
It's been a long day and...".

   Tom almost groaned in frustration, but he could understand.  He forced a
smile on his face and answered, "Sure you can.  Bathroom's right at the end
of the hall." She moved past him, and his gaze traveled up her shapely,
stocking covered legs to the round, full ass encased by a tight wool skirt.
He admiringly watched her shapely bottom sway provocatively back and forth
as she walked down the hall, unable to believe his good fortune.

   She seemed surprised when he slipped into the small shower stall with
her, but quickly moved away to make room for him and then back to resume
their interrupted kiss.  He almost yelped when the scalding hot water hit
his chest, and reached toward the spigot to add more cool water to the mix.


   "Please don't," she whispered, "I've been freezing all day and I just
can't seem to get warm."

   Now that she had mentioned it, he noticed that she did feel cold against
him.  Instinctively, he pulled her even closer, seeking to warm her body
with his own.  He took the body wash from the shower shelf and started to
bathe her.  He made long, caressing strokes up and down her smooth, well
muscled back and the firm, lush curves of her ass, reveling in the feel of
her soft, soap slippery skin beneath his hands.  As he did so, she twined
her arms around his neck and leaned into him, breathing hard against his
chest.  When he finally decided that her back was clean enough, he gently
turned her around and began to give her front the same treatment.  He
hefted her breasts lightly in his hands before sliding his hands upwards to
rub and gently pinch her nipples until they stood hard and erect.  She
shivered, her arms falling limply to her sides while her head fell back to
rest on his shoulder.

   He slowly moved his hands down her flat, hard stomach, making certain to
wash every last inch.  When he reached the juncture of her thighs, her
shivering increased and she slowly slid her legs apart to make room for his
hands.  He ran his finger gently across her perineum, up between her labia
to her clitoris.  There his finger lightly circled and caressed the little
nubbin, pausing occasionally to gently pull on the hood that surrounded it.
Leaning his head towards hers, he began to softly nibble and lick at her
neck and earlobe.  He continued until her arms went suddenly up and back,
her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as she shook and quivered against
him before going so limp in his arms that he had to hurriedly catch her
before she slid to the floor.  He held her up, continuing to kiss her neck
and shoulders, as she regained her composure.

   "Does your hair need washed?" he asked softly.

   Mutely, she nodded her head rapidly a few times in response.

   He leaned her back into the shower spray, shielding her eyes from the
water with the side of his hand.  Filling his palm with shampoo, he began
to firmly massage it into her scalp with all ten digits, gradually working
the shampoo through all of her long blond tresses before rinsing and
repeating the procedure with conditioner.  Throughout the process, she
stood bonelessly in his arms, panting lightly, her eyes closed in pleasure.

   When he finished the final rinse, her eyes slowly opened and, with a
widening smile, she threw herself against him with wild abandon, locking
her lips to his in frenzied passion.  He led her from the shower and gently
dried her and, far more brusquely, himself, before lifting her in his arms
and carrying her to his bed



   After laying her gently down on his pillows, thanking fate that he had
actually washed his linens fairly recently, he bent and kissed her lips,
losing himself in their softness for a time.  Breaking their embrace, he
kissed, licked and nibbled a path down the line of her jaw and then her
neck.  When he reached her breasts, he ran his tongue firmly over the
entire surface of one before sucking the nipple lightly into his mouth and
teasing it with his tongue.  Turning his head, he repeated the process on
the other.  Mia cradled his head gently in her arms, making little mewls of
pleasure.  Once both nipples were standing hard and proud, shiny with his
saliva, he kissed and licked his way down the center of her stomach,
pausing only briefly to tongue the slight indentation of her navel.  She
suddenly gripped his shoulders tightly.

   "What are you doing?" she asked in astonishment.

   Tom couldn't believe that a woman so beautiful and sexy had never had
someone go down on her, but that was apparently the case.  With a broad
grin, Tom whispered, "Shhh, lie back and relax.  I think you'll like it."

   Her body still tense, she followed his instructions.  Tom continued on
his path, moving down to nibble and lick at her inner thighs while he
admired her smooth shaven sex.  Her labia were the lightest pink in color
and had flowered open in arousal, revealing the oily wet interior.  Her
clit was large and erect, protruding from its hood by a good half inch. 
With a groan of desire, Tom moved forward and sucked the button of flesh
ever-so-gently into his mouth, grazing it lightly with his tongue.  Mia let
out a long, deep moan, throwing her head back in ecstacy while seizing his
head in her hands and pulling him more firmly into her.  Tom released his
hold on her clit before it became too sensitive and ran the flat of his
tongue down across her labia before wiggling it into the entrance that was
still hot from the shower.  He alternated running his tongue around and
between the thick lips with gently licking and teasing her clit, until her
thighs clamped tightly around his head and her stomach arched sharply
upwards.  When her orgasm was at its height, he again sucked her clit
lightly into his mouth.  Instantly, she let out a scream of pleasure and
every muscle in her body contracted in release.

   Finally, her body settled back onto the bed and went limp.  Tom laid his
head on her thigh and peered upwards to find her looking down at him with
eyes wide in amazement.  Suddenly leaning forward, she grasped him under
the arms and pulled him firmly and easily back up her body where she
fervently, almost desperately, locked him in a kiss.  He marveled at her
strength for a moment before he was again lost in the passion of her
embrace.

   After a long while she broke the kiss and asked, almost shyly, "How
about if I return the favor?"

   An image of the drug dealer's terminal injury flashed suddenly in Tom's
mind and he could only shake his head no.  She smiled in understanding, and
he recalled that he had shared that story with her earlier.  Reaching down
between their bodies, she grasped his steel hard member lightly and guided
it to her entrance.

   With a sigh of pleasure, Tom pushed himself forward into her hot, liquid
depths.  The moment he bottomed out, she looked up at him with a
mischievous grin and he suddenly felt the muscles of her channel grip and
release him up and down his length.  It was his turn to look at her in
amazement.  She giggled lightly and pulled him in for another kiss.  Soon
they fell into the timeless and ancient rhythms of the union of man and
woman, her body rising up to meet his thrusts again and again.  The room
was filled with their low moans of pleasure and the wet, rhythmic sounds of
their coupling.

   Lost in pleasure, Tom felt his release rising inside of him when he
suddenly realized that they weren't using protection.  He pulled his lips
back from hers, but she leaned forward to silence his unasked question with
another kiss.

   "Don't worry, you can't get me pregnant," she whispered.  "Cum in me!"

   Tom eagerly obeyed, thrusting himself fully into her as he erupted into
her depths.  She pulled him to her and nuzzled his neck.  Briefly, he felt
her teeth, which seemed exceptionally sharp, drag across his skin, but then
she pushed him back slightly and crushed her lips to his.

   They laid together like that until his cock softened and slipped from
her still clenching tunnel.  Panting happily, Tom fell heavily on his back
next to Mia.  She cuddled up to his side with her head resting on his
shoulder and wrapped him in a loose embrace.  He tried to stay awake, not
wanting the night to end, but sleep claimed him all too soon.

   Mia waited until his breathing became deep and regular in sleep before
disengaging herself and standing by the bed.  Extending her will like a
caress, she made certain that he would not wake until after she was gone.

   She watched him sleep for a time, her mind racing.  She had come here to
kill him.  She had thought it would be easy when he had essentially called
her a whore even before introducing himself.  But during the subsequent
outpouring of his soul, which she had carefully nurtured along with gentle
nudges of compulsion, her resolve had begun to weaken.  He hadn't known any
of the victims, but he cared for them nevertheless.  Each new death and
disappearance had struck him like a blow, and he considered each to be his
personal failure for not being good enough to put a stop to the killer. 
Unknowing, she had already caused him so much pain.

   When they came to his apartment, she had still intended to carry out her
plan, although she had decided to fill his last hours with pleasure as some
small measure of recompense.  Then he had surprised her again by giving
more thought to her pleasure than to his own.  He had done things for her
that no man had ever done before, even prior to the time she had received
the Gift.  He had even brought her to orgasm, which she hadn't believed was
possible outside of feeding, not once but twice.  By the time he had found
his pleasure inside of her, her resolve had failed completely.  He was a
good man, a kind man and she could not bring herself to end his life.  In
fact, it pained her that in a few hours he would learn that she was the
killer and would hate her for it.

   She suddenly realized that she could accomplish her purpose without his
death.  She gazed around the room until she located a post-it pad and a
pen. Even as she took hold of these items, pain lashed through her entire
body, driving her first to her knees and then to her stomach.  Gasping with
the effort, she laboriously scratched the pen on the pad for a moment and
then laid still, waiting for the pain to fade enough to allow her to stand.

   She felt another brief stab of pain as she stuck the brief note on the
pillow that she had occupied moments before and longed to occupy again. 
She bent and kissed him lightly and then she was gone.

   Chapter 6

   Tom was saddened when he woke to a blaring alarm clock and an empty bed.
He had truly hoped that Mia would still be there.  He rolled over and
caught sight of the note stuck to the pillow.  His lips puckered in
confusion as he read the rough, childlike scrawl.  She had left an address
but not a phone number.  How decidedly odd.  Still, he supposed that it
was, at least, an invitation to see her again.

   He quickly got ready for work and went out the door, only realizing
belatedly that he had been whistling happily the entire time.

   When he arrived at the station, Mark met him at his desk with a hot cup
of the vile substance that passed for coffee at the station.

   As Tom accepted the cup, Mark gave him a quick double take and arched an
eyebrow in suspicion, "And just what are you so friggin' happy about this
morning, boss?" Then his eyes widened in malicious glee, "Oh my lord, you
got laid, didn't you?  Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick!  Here, I was starting
to think that you might have gone all poofster on us."

   Tom fixed his friend with a look of mock indignation.  "Describing what
happened to me last night as getting laid is like describing the finest
seven course meal at the Grand Concourse as chowing down."

   "Ha!  Details!  Give me details!"

   "Pfft.  A gentleman never tells.  Especially not to brutish louts like
yourself."

   Mark clutched his hand to his chest, "Brutish lout?!  You wound me to
the quick, sir.  I may have to thumb my teeth at you."

   "Heh.  Good to see you're actually getting some use out of that English
lit degree."

   "It never hurts to bring out a touch of class to brighten the lives of
poor ignorant slobs.  Besides, I get a lot of use from my degree.  You
should read some of my incident reports.  Works of art they be."

   "Well, before you launch into a scene from Hamlet to dazzle me with your
brilliance, is there any chance my composite is ready?"

   "Sure is, boss.  Girlie looks like she should be in Playboy and not on
the post office wall."

   Tom chuckled as he accepted the sheet of paper Mark handed him.  And
then his world reeled, the cup of coffee falling from suddenly nerveless
fingers to spatter across the floor.

   Mark rushed to his side and grabbed his arm in support, concern writ
large on his every feature.  "What's the matter, Tom?  Talk to me."

   Tom's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to choke
out, "It's her."

   "It's who, Tom?"

   "Mia.  The woman I was...with last night."

   "Jesus Christ, Tom!  You slept with the worst serial killer in this
city's history?" Mark flushed as he realized how undiplomatic he was being
and asked in a quieter tone, "What the fuck is going on, boss?"

   "I wish to hell I knew, Mark.  I really do."

   "Well, we've had two cabbies give us a positive id and both dropped her
off in roughly the same area in North Oakland.  There are patrolman on
their way now to canvas the neighborhood to see if anyone knows where she
lives.  With a little luck, you should be able to ask her yourself in a
bit."

   Tom looked at his friend blankly for a moment and then groped in his
pocket.  As he pulled out a rumpled post-it, he said grimly.  "I think I
already know where she is."

   Chapter 7

   Tom crawled slowly through rush hour traffic, praying that his pathetic
excuse for a car wouldn't overheat.  The red flashing light he had affixed
to the roof had proven to be almost completely ineffective at clearing his
path.  The day had been an exercise in frustration.  Four times the
magistrate had screwed up the warrant, requiring it to be retyped and then
taken through the channels all over again.  If he hadn't worked with the
man on numerous times in the past, Tom would have believed him to be an
imbecile.

   The SWAT team, Mark and a number of black and whites had been standing
by at the address that Mia had given him since ten that morning.  It was
now well past five.  Oddly, they had reported no activity in the house,
though neighbors had reported that a dapper middle aged man lived there
with a woman matching Mia's description.  Tom wondered, not for the first
time, if Mia had played him for a fool.  Somehow, he still couldn't believe
that she had.

   Cursing loudly as the light turned red for the third time with no
discernable movement in the line of cars, Tom pulled out his cell phone and
punched in Mark's number.

   "Yeah, boss?"

   "I finally got a valid warrant, but I'm stuck in traffic and it could
take me another hour to get there.  It's your call.  If you want to make
the entry now, you have my blessing.  I'll be there with the warrant as
fast as I can."

   "The SWAT boys have been getting a little antsy, and it would be nice to
have a wee bit of light when we clear the place," Mark reasoned before
adding softly, "Hey boss, I promise that everyone will know that it's
important to take them alive."

   "Thanks, Mark."

   "No problem.  See ya soon."

   Mark gave the order to move and then followed the SWAT team in.  It
wasn't strictly protocol, but he loved to watch the elite unit at work. 
Besides, the day had been one long clusterfuck and he was anxious to be
doing something besides cooling his heels.  As he walked across the lawn of
the old house, the sun sank below the horizon.  Idly, he wished that the
city had sprung for the IR gear as it would have made this a lot easier.

   Mia's eyes sprang open in the pitch black of her casket.  She could
sense that there were a number of armed men in the house.  She cursed
softly.  What had taken them so long to get here?  Why had they come too
late?  A new worry rose in her mind: what if Tom were among them?

   As Mia opened the lid of her casket, she saw her Master glance her way
with a look of pure malice on his face.  "We have guests, my dear," Arthur
said calmly.  "Come with me and let us make them pay dearly for their
trespass."

   Mia's body began responding automatically to the command.  There was no
chance of disobedience.  Her Master began walking towards the cellar steps,
power rising around him.  Mia shied back, her eyes widening in fear.  Her
kind grew stronger over time and she knew that Arthur, who was much older
than she, was also a great deal more powerful, but she had never suspected
anything of the magnitude he was displaying now.  As she hurried to catch
up to him in obedience to his command, all the moisture in the air
coalesced into a thick fog that flowed and eddied about them, rising
upwards through the house.

   Mark leaned against a wall as the SWAT team quickly searched and cleared
the three story structure.  All that remained was the basement and the team
had regrouped to clear that final area.  As they approached the basement
stairs, a thick, white mist flowed outwards from the dark opening.  The
well trained SWAT team responded without thought, shouldering their weapons
for the few seconds it took to don their gas masks and then bringing those
weapons back to bear.  His gas mask, of course, lay forgotten in the trunk
of his car.

   Mark began to hurriedly back away from the mist when two figures
appeared out of its depths, one obviously female.  Laser sights homed in on
the silhouettes, but most were reflected or diffracted by the mist.

   "Get down and put your hands on your heads!" commanded the team leader.

   "No.  I think not," the male figure replied calmly.

   Both figures suddenly lunged forward in a blur of motion.  Mark could
track their movement only by the eddies they left in the fog behind them.
The rapid movements of the team's gun mounted flashlights created something
akin to a strobe effect as the team went hot.

   Mark gaped as both figures moved impossibly, sinuously fast, easily
avoiding the lines of bullets that converged upon them.  Then the woman had
one of the point men by the throat, lifting him one handed and squeezing.
Even over the gunfire, Mark could hear the sound of snapping bone.  The man
had moved to the middle ranks of the team and lashed out around him with
impossible speed.  It looked...oh dear god no...the man had claws.  Fucking
claws!

   In a matter of seconds five men were down, staring sightlessly above
throats, chests and Kevlar vests that had been torn to ribbons.  Hot, red
blood splashed darkly on the faded paneling on the walls.  Catching motion
from the end of the hall, Mark watched as the woman lifted the other point
man face up above her head before bringing him down across a bent knee,
snapping his back like a twig.  Mark's gaze snapped back to the man who was
approaching one of the last men in the line.  The team member brought his
gun up and emptied the remainder of his clip into the man's chest at point
blank range.  The man merely smiled in amusement as his clawed hand blurred
forward, thrusting through the team member's body armor and chest before
emerging in a gout of blood from his back

   As the man freed his arm, the woman moved forward until she was standing
directly in front of Mark.  Mark suddenly realized that he was the last cop
left standing in the hall.  The woman stalked towards him, her mouth
falling open to reveal long, needle sharp fangs.

   Mark tried to run, but his legs were frozen in fear and he fell over
backwards.  Desperately he started to crab walk backwards towards the door.
All the while, the woman came closer.  The man rushed past him in a blur.
From outside, Mark could hear gunfire and then screams which suddenly cut
short as the man fell upon the uniformed patrolmen who surrounded the
house.

   Mark knew his death was rapidly approaching and the certainty of it had
a surprisingly calming effect.  "Fuck it," he thought, "I've lived a decent
life and Tom will see to it that my family is taken care of when I'm gone.
Poor Tom.  He's going to have one hell of a time coping with this.  Hope
he's not too hard on himself.  Who could have guessed that we were after
friggin' vampires?!"

   The woman's face suddenly twisted in what looked to Mark like pain.  She
grabbed the front of his bulletproof vest, easily lifting his bulk off the
floor one handed.  Holding him out in front of her, she stepped through the
front door to the porch.  Her face again contorted in pain as she bent her
arm back and hurled Mark across the yard into the unkempt hedges that
marked the property line.  He crashed through the shrubbery, feeling the
sharp broken tips of the sticks piercing his flesh everywhere that it
wasn't protected by Kevlar.  He felt liquid warmth spreading outwards from
numerous injuries.

   "Well, shit," he thought before everything went black.

   Mia watched her Master stride towards her over the broken, motionless
bodies of numerous policemen, his lips pulled back from bloody teeth in
jubilation.

   "It has begun, child," he said.  "Let us be gone from this place."

   With those words, he turned and ran into the darkness.  Mia hesitated,
her eyes widening in wonder.  He had not specified a direction or
destination.  With only slight pain at disobeying the unstated intent of
his command, she turned in the opposite direction from that he had taken
and ran with all the speed she could muster.  After a few minutes, the bond
resonated with his confusion over her actions.  This was quickly followed
by rage.  It faded only slowly with distance.

   Chapter 8

   Tom listened to the operation over the radio and had heard the orderly
commands and replies of the SWAT team turn to gunfire and screams of pain
followed by silence.  He arrived at the premises less than five minutes
later to find a scene straight out of hell.  Bodies in blue uniforms lay
everywhere, the entire scene painted in the rich carmine hues of fresh
blood.  He stared numbly for a moment, wondering how something like this
could possibly have happened.  He finally tore his eyes from the grisly
scene and hurriedly put in the call for ambulances and back up before
searching for survivors.

   Mark was the only person he found still alive among the carnage, and
Mark had lost so much blood that he might not remain so for long.  Although
it had pained him to do so, Tom left Mark impaled in the hedges, knowing
that if he pulled him loose it would increase the blood loss.  He applied
what little first aid he could through the thick branches, while beseeching
Mark to "just hold on."

   Moments later, ambulances and squad cars descended on the place in a
wail of sirens and a glare of flashing lights.  The paramedics immediately
started Mark on a unit of blood before cutting him from the hedges with
bolt cutters, leaving the branches stuck in his body wherever they could.

   Tom rode to the hospital in the back of Mark's ambulance and waited with
Mark's wife, Jenny, for more than two hours before one of the doctors
emerged from the operating room.  Tom and Jenny rushed to intercept him.

   "How is he, doctor?" Tom blurted out, realizing too late that he
probably should let Jenny ask the questions.  The slight resentment on her
face showed that he was correct.

   The doctor raised his hands in a placating manner, and a tired smile
appeared faintly on his lips.  "He lost a lot of blood and a number of
major veins and arteries were lacerated.  However, we got the worst of the
damage patched up, and replaced most of the lost fluids.  His condition is
stable and we expect a full recovery."

   Tom sagged in relief and missed Jenny's next few queries to the doctor,
snapping his attention back to the conversation only when she asked, "How
soon can we see him."

   The doctor's voice was sympathetic, "He's in post-op right now under
observation.  He's still unconscious, which is not unusual given the extent
of his injuries.  Unless complications arise, we'll likely move him to the
IC ward in about an hour.  Once there, he will be allowed visitors on a
very limited basis.  I'm sorry, but we really can't have him getting
excited at all for a time."

   Tom and Jenny both nodded their understanding.  The doctor motioned Tom
off to the side and leaned in close.  "I've been told what happened,
Lieutenant.  I understand that you need some answers and that the nature of
the situation is such that you need them ASAP.  When Mr.  Kimmel wakes up,
you can have five minutes with him.  I'll have to insist that I remain in
the room to monitor his condition throughout the conversation."

   Tom nodded his acceptance of the conditions, and said, gratefully,
"Thanks, Doc."

   He then went to explain the situation to Jenny.  She wasn't happy, but
she had accepted the conditions that came with Mark's profession long ago.

   It was an hour before the doctor came to lead Tom to the IC ward.  Mark
was encased in a corona of plastic tubes and swathed in bandages.  His eyes
were squinted in pain, his skin pale.  Tom squeezed in among the acres of
blinking and beeping machines that surrounded the bed and reached out to
take his friend's hand.  As the sheer volume of Mark's injuries became
apparent, Tom felt his eyes begin to tear.

   Mark looked up at him and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face. 
"You pussy," he croaked.  "Cops don't cry."

   "Shuddup, I was just feeling bad for the guy who got his ass kicked by a
bush.  I mean just imagine what the guys at the station are going to have
to say about this," Tom shook his head sadly before striking a dramatic
pose with the back of his hand across his forehead, "Oh, the humiliation!"

   Mark started to laugh but immediately collapsed in a fit of coughing. 
Both men noticed the doctor tapping his watch pointedly.

   When Mark got his coughing under control, he motioned Tom to lean in
closer.  "I see you need the abridged version, so I'll make it quick.  Our
two perps were there, your girl and a guy who was dressed like some scumbag
lawyer.  They were unarmed, but they still went through all of our guys
like nothing.  Tom, you're not going to believe this, but the guy had
fucking claws on his fingers.  I'm not talking Freddy Krueger knife shit
either, but real honest-to-god claws.  Claws that went through Kevlar like
paper.  He killed most of our men with them.  One of the SWAT team emptied
an M16 in the monster's chest and he fuckin' smiled about it before putting
his fist right through the poor fucker.  And your girl ...  shit, man, your
girl had three inch long fangs and broke a guy in half over her knee like
it was nothing."

   Mark collapsed backwards on his pillow and licked his lips before
continuing, "They moved so fast.  Too goddamned fast.  She was going to
kill me, Tom.  I knew it.  She was coming for me, and there wasn't anything
I could do to stop her.  But she didn't.  Tom, don't ask me why, but I
think not killing me hurt her."

   Mark grinned slightly at the look of incredulity on Tom's face.  "Yeah,
I know.  I don't believe in fucking vampires either.  Believe in them or
not, though, that's exactly what they were.  Fucking vampires."

   The doctor was looking at one of the monitors with alarm, and sharply
gestured that Tom's time was up.

   With a final squeeze of his friends hand, Tom said, "Rest up and get
better, Mark.  I swear I'll find them."

   Mark looked up sadly, meeting Tom's eyes.  "I'm a lot more worried about
them finding you.  Be careful, Tom.  Good luck."

   As the doctor ushered Tom from the room, he said, "We're not going to
allow any visitors other than his wife until tomorrow.  IC visiting hours
are from noon to one and six to seven.  No more than two visitors in the
room at a time."

   Tom shook the doctor's hand.  "Thanks, Doc.  You heard what he said?" At
the doctor's terse nod, Tom continued, "Is he delusional?"

   The doctor hesitated a moment before answering, "Extreme blood loss has
been known to cause delusions.  But, I have to tell you, word has been
filtering up from the morgue.  From what I've heard, no human being, not
even one on fatally large doses of PCP, could have caused those injuries. I
...  I'm having a hard time with the idea of vampires being real.  Another
possibility is that they had characteristics that fit with the myths
surrounding vampires so that's what your friend decided they were.  Maybe
they're mutants or the result of some government experiment to create super
soldiers."

   The doctor seemed to realize what he was saying and broke off with an
embarrassed chuckle.  "I know these guesses are almost as implausible as
vampires, but I have an easier time with them than the idea of the dead
rising to feed on the living.  Hell, I don't know what to tell you other
than, whatever they are, they're undoubtedly dangerous.  Follow your
friend's advice and be careful."

   The idea of going back to his apartment was completely unappealing, so,
after leaving the hospital, Tom drove to the station to get the paperwork
related to the night started.  The death of over thirty of his fellow
officers brought with it a mountain of paperwork.  How could they have lost
an entire SWAT team, no matter what the nature of the targets?  It was the
first time ever that such a thing had happened since SWAT teams were first
implemented in 1967.

   As he waded through the fringes of the daunting mound of forms, his mind
turned again and again to what Mark and the doctor had told him at the
hospital.  Could there really be vampires running amuck in his city?  Were
they the undead of myth?  It suddenly occurred to him to wonder, if they
were undead, did that make him a necrophiliac?  How in the hell was he
going to explain this to the chief?

   It was going on three in the morning when Tom finally decided to go home
to get some rest.  As he staggered down the hallway leading to his
apartment, he noticed that light was shining out from under his door.  All
thought of sleep vanished as adrenalin rushed through his body.  Drawing
his gun, he moved slowly and silently to the door.  He listened, but could
hear nothing.  He took his keys from his pocket and, as quietly as
possible, unlocked the door and eased it open.

   He moved carefully into the interior of the apartment, his eyes
searching all of the corners and shadows of the entry hall.  He crept to
the living room and there was Mia sitting on his couch, her arms wrapped
around the knees she had pulled tightly to her chest.

   "Put your hands where I can see them.  No sudden moves or I swear I'll
shoot," he commanded.

   Mia slowly turned her head towards him, a look of sadness and loss on
her face.  With a sigh, she said, "Relax, Tom.  If I had come here to kill
you, you would already be lying on the floor in a pile of your own
entrails."

   Tom's gun didn't waver as he asked, "What are you, Mia?"

   Lowering her forehead back to the tops of her knees, Mia began speaking
in a low monotone.  "For centuries people have been telling their children
that there is nothing to fear in the dark, that there are no monsters.  In
this, they are doing their offspring a grave disservice.  There are beasts
that lurk in the night.  Watching.  Waiting.  Hungering." She looked up at
him again, her face expressionless, "I am one of them."

   "Let me ask you one thing: why didn't you kill Mark?"

   "I assume you're referring to the stout cop?" At Tom's nod, Mia
continued, "Your friend spent what he believed to be his last thoughts
worrying about you.  Under the circumstances I couldn't bring myself to
kill him."

   "But you were fine with killing everyone else?"

   Mia winced and whispered, "Two, only two." She sighed and continued in a
stronger voice, "My Master's express instruction had been to 'make the
intruders pay for their trespass.' That left me some room for
interpretation, even though I knew that his intent was that I kill.  With
the first two men I engaged, there was nothing to conflict with that
intent, so they died.  With your friend, there was a conflict, so I was
able to obey the express command while ignoring the intent at the price of
pain." She paused a moment before whispering, "If my Master's command had
been to 'kill the intruders,' your friend would be dead."

   "Bullshit.  You chose to kill.  The whole, 'I was just following orders'
defense went out with Nuremberg."

   Mia's eyes narrowed in anger.  "You know nothing!" she spat.  "When
a....when one of my kind creates a fledgling, at least an intelligent
fledgling, a bond is formed.  This bond compels the fledgling to absolutely
obey every command, every whim, of the Master.  When an order is given, the
fledgling obeys even if every fiber of her being cries out against it. 
Even worse, the bond reacts to the fledgling's thoughts.  If the fledgling
knows the intent behind a directive, the bond holds the fledgling to that
intent, though to a lesser degree than to an express order.  The bond has
other properties as well.  If a fledgling would ever raise his or her hand
against the Master, seeking to do the Master direct physical harm, the
fledgling's life, such as it is, would be snuffed out in an instant. 
Again, the bond responds to thought.  If a fledgling knows that he or she
is betraying the Master with the intent to bring about harm directly or
indirectly, the fledgling will pay the price of treachery in pain.  The
greater the betrayal, the more it hurts."

   "But after almost two months of no leads whatsoever, you took a cab
almost directly to your house twice and gave me your address..."

   Mia locked eyes with him challengingly, "Some things are worth hurting
for, even dying for.  My Master's destruction is one of them."

   Tom considered this for a moment, before asking softly, "What are you,
exactly, Mia?"

   Mia sighed and her eyes grew unfocused, "I was born in western Russia
during the reign of Nicholas I.  I have no idea what year.  The people of
my village were strong and proud, direct descendants of the Vikings that
had colonized the land.  They were also poor and had no interest in marking
time other than was necessary to know when to plant and harvest.  During
what would become known as the Crimean War, the army of the Ottoman empire
passed near my village and its raiders came to plunder us for food.  We had
none to give, so they killed our men and violated our women.  I was left
for dead, naked in the street.  I knew I was dying.  Then a man came and
offered me life in exchange for servitude.  I agreed, not knowing that I
was making a deal with the devil.  He bit me and drank my remaining life
while forcing me to drink his blood.  Everything went black.  When I woke
the following night, I was different.  My thoughts, hopes, dreams, and
desires remained the same, but they were subjugated to the both the bond
and the hunger.  I don't know which is worse, the need to feed or always
being able to feel him." She gestured vaguely to the south.

   "And then?"

   Mia hesitated, clearly not wanting to continue her story, but finally
she continued with a sigh.  Tom's eyes widened in horror as she recounted
over a hundred and fifty years of physical and mental torture in a flat,
cold voice.  As she spoke, he first lowered his gun and then sat it on an
end table while sinking into the chair opposite the couch.

   When she had finished, Tom asked gently, "Why did you come here, Mia?"

   She met his eyes and, in the forlorn voice of a lost child, said,
"Because I had no place else to go." She hesitated for a moment before
adding, "I know I need to die for my crimes.  That being so, I would ask
that you be the one to put an end to my existence."

   Without waiting for a response, she reached next to the couch and picked
up what appeared to be a two foot length of fence post that had been
crudely broken off and sharpened.  She opened the top buttons of her blouse
and placed the pointed wood on her chest between the inner curves of her
round breasts.

   She then said quietly, "If you drive it in right here, this should do
the job.  Or, we can sit here until the sun rises.  Its direct touch is
death to us."

   Tom gaped at her incredulously for a moment before standing and moving
to sit by her side.  He grabbed the stake from her hand and tossed it
carelessly across the room before taking her in his arms.  She stiffened
for a moment, her face filled with confusion, and then she flowed into his
embrace, clutching him desperately as she sobbed out more than a century of
abuse into his chest.

   Tom held her as she cried, rubbing her back gently and nuzzling the top
of her head, until he saw that the sky outside the window was beginning to
lighten with the approaching dawn.  Easing her back, he stood and went to
his hall closet, fetching thick woolen blankets and a roll of duct tape. 
Returning to the living room, he quickly hung a blanket over the window,
taping the edges to ensure that no light could penetrate.

   Mia watched him work from the couch, tear streaks still evident on her
face.  "It would be better for you if you let the sun have me," she said
quietly.

   He looked at her soberly for a moment before smiling gently.  "No, Mia,
I really don't think it would."

   Tom returned to the couch and, with minor coaxing, had Mia lay her head
in his lap.  As he began to lightly rub her back and comb his fingers
through her hair, she asked, "Why don't you hate me?  I'm a monster."

   Tom bent and kissed her gently, first on the forehead and then the lips.
"You're not a monster, Mia.  You're a victim here as much as anyone.  I
promise to do my best to protect you and keep Arthur from ever hurting you
again." As he considered what he had said, Tom almost laughed at the notion
of actually being able to do anything against a creature that could punch
its fist through an armored man, but he knew that he would nevertheless do
his best to keep the promise.

   Mia twisted her head to seek confirmation of his words in his
expression. Tears began to well up again in her eyes.  She softly
whispered, "You do realize that I will eventually have to feed again?"
Before he could respond, the sun rose above the horizon.  Mia convulsed
once, her eyes squeezing shut, and then she went still.

   Tom sat there with her head in his lap for more than an hour, gently
combing his fingers through her hair as he wondered what the hell he was
going to do.  As he sat, he couldn't help but satisfy his curiosity
concerning her nature.  She had no pulse, but he was uncertain whether she
did even when she was active.  There was no sign of rigor mortis; her limbs
remained as soft and supple as those of a living person.  When he gently
pulled one of her eyelids open, he found her eye unglazed, though the pupil
was fixed and dilated.

   Finally, Tom stood and carried the remaining blanket and the tape to his
bedroom where he again sealed a window against light.  Returning to the
living room, he picked up Mia and carried her to his bed.  If someone would
happen to stop by during the day, it would be hard to explain an apparent
corpse on his couch.  For that matter, it would be hard to explain one in
his bed, but a casual visitor would be far less likely to see her there.

   Sitting on the edge of the bed, Tom pulled out his cell phone and called
off work for the day.  The head of the homicide department was surprisingly
understanding, despite the massive amount of priority paperwork awaiting
Tom's attention.  Tom then settled onto the bed with Mia, pulling the
comforter back over them both.  Although more than a little creeped out by
her apparent condition, in a short time he fell into exhausted slumber.  As
sleep claimed him, his arm reached out and enfolded the undead woman,
pulling her to him.

   Chapter 9

   Shortly before noon, Tom was awakened by the sound of heavy footfalls
moving through his apartment.  He reached to the night stand for his gun
before recalling with a curse that he had left it in the living room. 
Before he could think of any other course of action, his bedroom door
banged open and Mark walked in.

   "Rise and shine, lover boy," Mark called out boisterously.  He didn't
seem especially surprised to see Mia occupying the bed.  "I used the keys
you gave me so I could water your plants while you were on vacation to get
in.  Hope you don't mind."

   "Mark?!"

   "Yep.  Mark," Mark said in the tone of an adult speaking to an
especially slow child.  He squinted his eyes suspiciously.  "You feeling
alright, take a knock on the head or something?"

   Tom sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his palms, "Aren't
you supposed to be in the hospital with a bunch of tubes sticking out of
you?"

   Mark looked surprised.  "Didn't your girl tell you?" he asked while
gesturing at Mia's supine form.  When Tom looked blank, Mark continued,
"Huh.  How about that?  Well, your pretty little piece of fluff there came
walking into my hospital room like she owned the place about a half hour
after you left and a few minutes after they pried Jenny, kicking and
screaming, from my side.  Scared the bejeezus out of me, I have to tell
you. Those little machines they had me hooked to were beeping and squealing
enough to wake the dead.  I was hollerin' for help and trying to push
myself back through the wall when she told me, 'I'm not here to hurt you. I
just wanted to make amends.'"

   Mark had moved to Mia's side of the bed and was checking her pulse,
eyes, and limb rigidity much as Tom had a few hours before.  "Huh. 
Certainly seems dead enough.  Anyway, I quieted down and she walked up to
the side of my bed and told me, 'Don't be alarmed, this will help.' Then
she started peeling back those big ass band-aids they had me covered with
and began licking my wounds.  Hope you don't mind, boss, but once I figured
out that she wasn't just finding out how I taste before eating me, I got a
bit of a chubby.  Everywhere she licked, those big bloody holes sealed up
as if by magic.  Even the stitches fell out.  Once she was done, she told
me she was sorry and just up and left.  Odd thing was no one seemed to
notice she was there.  A nurse walked in to shut down the alarms and check
my vitals right after your girl got there and paid absolutely no attention
to the pretty girl kneeling by my bed giving me a tongue bath."

   "Really knocked the doctors for a loop this morning, finding me all
healed up with nary a scar.  They checked me and rechecked me and then,
just to piss me off, checked me again.  Couldn't find a thing wrong.  They
wanted to keep me there for 'study', but I told 'em that if I was healthy I
needed to get back to work.  And here I am." Mark struck a pose with his
arms flung out to the sides, "Ta-da.  I do kinda miss that morphine drip,
though."

   Tom turned his gaze to Mia, "She didn't tell me.  She came here to ask
me to kill her, and never told me what she did for you."

   Mark pursed his lips thoughtfully.  "She asked you to kill her?  Wow,
that's a new record for you isn't it?  Usually your girls have to live with
you for a week or so before asking that." Mark dodged a hastily thrown
pillow with a laugh.  Then his face sobered, "So, what the fuck have you
gotten yourself into, boss?"

   Tom sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead on his palms, "I'm
still trying to figure that out." He then briefly recapped what Mia had
told him the night before.

   Mark pondered the information he had just been given for a moment before
saying, "Well, we're a lot better off than we were yesterday at this time.
We know what we're facing.  We know sunlight and wooden stakes through the
heart can kill them.  And, we know that if your new girlfriend gets
anywhere near her old boyfriend again, she's probably going to get all
feisty on us.  How about the other classic cures for vampire infestation
from the movies: holy water, crosses, garlic and the like?"

   Tom shrugged his shoulders, "Didn't ask."

   "Well, when she wakes up, you might want to.  In the meantime, do you
have any plans floating around in that lump you call a head?"

   "When she was talking about the bond between her and the other, I got
the impression that she could feel where he was, or at least knew what
direction he was in.  If that's the case, I would bet it works the other
way, too.  If so, I bet he comes looking for her."

   "That's a lot of 'ifs', boss."

   "Yeah, I know, but it's all I got at the moment."

   "So, you're thinking of setting a trap using her as bait?"



   "If she's willing.  If not, we'll have to think of something else."

   "Well, sounds good to me, I guess.  What do we do now?"

   "I was thinking that I would head to the library and read up on vampires
a bit and then head over to that archery store to stock up on some weapons
that might hurt him.  If you're up for it, I would like for you to talk to
some of our friends at the station and see if there's anyone who both
believes that we have a vampire in the city and is willing to help kill
him."

   Mark smiled amiably, "No problem.  Meet back here at dusk?"

   "See you then."

   Mark started for the door but stopped and looked back, "She's right you
know, she will have to feed again.  How are you planning on dealing with
that?"

   Tom grimaced; he had been trying to put that thought out of his mind. 
"I really don't know.  Maybe animal blood will do?"

   Mark shrugged his shoulders, "Let's hope." He then trudged down the
hallway, whistling a tune.  Tom listened for a moment before chuckling.  He
recognized the song Mark was whistling.  It was quite dirty.

   Chapter 10

   When Tom exited the apartment building, he was immediately blinded by
the flash of more than a dozen cameras.  Blinking away the spots of light
that continued to swim in his vision, he resolutely waded through the
reporters that were closing in on him like a pack of wolves.  He winced as
they bombarded him with questions concerning the debacle of the previous
night.  At least, he thought, it seemed from the content of the questions
that the cover story was holding up.  With a grimace, Tom wondered how long
that would last.

   When he finally reached the relative safety of his car door, he fixed a
polite and blatantly fake smile on his face, "Those are matters involving
ongoing police investigations.  You know that I can't comment."

   Tom laboriously climbed into the vehicle, fearing for a moment that some
of the reporters were actually going to try to get in with him. 
Fortunately, he was spared that indignity.  Once safe behind the thin
sheets of rusted out metal, he started the vehicle and gunned the engine,
leaving the reporters deafened by several loud backfires and coughing in a
cloud of black smoke.

   Tom decided to hit the library first.  On his way there, he entertained
a fantasy in which he sustained Mia on a diet of nothing but sensationalist
journalists.  The journey ended all too soon.

   Tom had been at the Carnegie library for close to two hours, perusing
both the stacks and the net, when his cell phone rang.  Caller id informed
him that it was Mark.

   "How's it going, Lazarus?  Please tell me that you're having better luck
than I am," Tom said as he answered.



   Mark's loud and boisterous voice burst from Tom's earpiece, "Actually,
boss, things are going pretty damn well.  I thought that I would have a
hell of a time convincing anyone that we had a vampire loose in the city. I
was wrong.  We've all been joking about vampires ever since the first
drained body showed up and, even though we all laughed, apparently the
jokes left nagging doubts in some people.  When I gave my official report
on last night's raid in the briefing room, there was no one laughing at
all. A few people looked at me like maybe blood loss had damaged my ol'
noggin, but quite a few came up to me afterwards to quietly ask what I
thought we could do to put an end to this.  A lot of them had helped to
clean up the mess last night, and they want payback.  I took down the names
of those who are willing to help us out, and I'll text those over to you in
a bit.  We have nineteen so far."

   Mark paused for a moment and then continued in a far quieter tone, "Tom,
just so you know, in my official report and in my little talks afterwards,
I told everyone that it was our male perp that did all that killing and
that the female perp actually saved me.  I suppose the latter is true
enough; maybe even twice over.  I thought that maybe this would help pave
the way for when we introduce Mia to the team.  Before you say thanks, I
want you to know that I did it because it seems pretty damn obvious that
we're going to need Mia to see this thing through, and that'll be tough
enough without having to deal with resentment and distrust in the ranks. 
Don't get me wrong, Mia seems like a nice enough girl and all, once you get
by the whole fangs and feeding on human blood things anyway, and I see the
way you look at her, but if we didn't have the big baddy still running
around loose...  Well, I would do my job."

   With a sigh, Tom responded, "Yeah.  This isn't exactly the easiest
situation, is it?  Whatever your reasons, though, I do appreciate it. 
Thanks."

   "No problem, boss.  Another thing that you really need to know is that
one of our believers is the Chief.  He pulled me aside and asked me if I
had any idea of how to resolve our situation.  I told him that we were
working on it, showed him my list of names and told him that you were going
to be procuring some weapons that we had reason to believe would be
effective.  He authorized me to pull our little team whenever we needed and
told me that overtime wouldn't be an issue.  He also told me to tell you to
use the department's card when you go shopping.  He said that he can hide
anything up to ten grand in the 'miscellaneous' portion of the budget. 
Obviously, he wants to keep any word of vampires from the press, so the
quicker we get this done, the happier he'll be."

   Mark paused for thought for a moment, "I think that's about all I have
to report.  So, I'm guessing that things aren't going well at the library?
You do know that proper library usage requires that you know how to read,
right?"

   "Funny.  But, yeah, I'm striking out here.  I guess that I had thought
that I could waltz right in and there would be something like a big yellow
'Vampires for Dummies' book waiting for me.  The truth is downright
depressing.  Most of the stuff in the stacks on vampires is in the fiction
section, Bram Stoker, Anne Rice and the like.  Not exactly a great source
of factual information.  The stuff in the non-fiction section is all about
narcissistic kids who pretend to be vampires.  Also useless to us.  And,
finally, all the stuff on the web seems to be unlikely fap stories written
by third rate writers.  I had been hoping to get a head start before Mia
wakes up, but I'm about to give up."

   "Ok, boss.  Unless you need me for something else, I was going to head
home for a while.  Seems that I, uh, sorta forgot to tell Jenny when I was
discharged from the hospital.  She arrived for visiting hours and found an
empty bed in a cleaned out room.  Lets just say it freaked her out a
little. I need to go smooth things over, prove I'm not dead, that kinda
thing.  Of course, I think I'll let her believe that my recovery was the
result of some divine miracle rather than telling her that it was because a
lovely young woman licked me all over.  Anyway, I'll see you around dusk."

   "Ok, Mark.  By the way, were the reporters outside my building when you
left?"

   "Oh.  Yeah.  I thought about giving you a call and warning you about
that, but I know how much you love surprises.  Oh, hey!  I almost forgot.
One of our merry band of vampire hunters is qualified as a sketch artist.
Would you mind if I brought her with me to talk to Mia?  I was so busy
looking at the guy's big fucking claws that I didn't really get a good look
at his face.  I figure Mia will be able to help us put together a picture
that we could pass around."

   "Yeah, I guess that would be ok.  Good thinking.  Take care, Mark, and I
will get you back for not telling me about the reporters."

   After Tom left the library, he traveled across town to Phil's Archery,
where he took advantage of the Chief's generosity by purchasing a number of
composite bows and crossbows.  He tried to get as many crossbows as
possible as he figured that the learning curve for their use would likely
be a little better.  Damn things were expensive, though.  Ammunition was
something of a problem.  Not many archers used wooden arrows or bolts
anymore, so Phil's stock of these items were low.  On the bright side, Phil
did have enough to at least get them started and promised that he could
have as many as Tom wanted within two days.  Tom put in an order for 500 of
each, just to be safe.  Before he left the store, Phil, pleased over the
size of the sale, was kind enough to give Tom a crash course in bow and
crossbow usage and maintenance at the indoor range attached to the back of
the store.

   Finally feeling as though he was accomplishing something, Tom next went
to the Apparel Warehouse in the strip district to pick up a few pairs of
jeans, a couple of t-shirts, a pair of running shoes and some socks and
underwear for Mia.  The poor girl would need something to wear other than
what she had on and they obviously couldn't retrieve her things from the
site of a huge mass murder investigation.  His selection didn't exactly fit
what he knew of her style, but Tom figured comfort and durability would be
more important in the coming days than elegance.

   The station was Tom's last intended stop before going home.  There he
checked Mark's text message and used it to locate the men and women it
identified.  He was lucky; eight of the team were experienced bow hunters
and even had their own gear.  He had the remaining eleven come out to his
car in twos and threes to pick out a weapon and ammo to go with it.  Once
everyone was armed, he left them with the suggestion that it would be a
good idea to get to the range and have the more experienced men teach the
others how to use the archaic weapons.

   On his way home, Tom, acting on sudden inspiration, made a quick detour
to the hardware store where he purchased a number of inch thick oak dowel
rods.  Satisfied at last with his medieval arsenal, he made it to his
apartment with less than a half hour to spare before dusk.

   When Mark stomped through Tom's front door fifteen minutes later, a
pretty, young, uniformed patrolwoman with a laptop under her arm in tow, he
found Tom sitting on the living room couch, inexpertly using a kitchen
knife to whittle a point onto the end of one of the dowels.  Mark stood
watching his friend for a moment before asking, "Stakes?"

   "Sort of.  I was thinking we could use them like pikes to hold our big
baddy, as you called him, at bay or at least keep him from charging at us."

   Mark grunted, "Good idea." Realizing that the patrolwoman was standing
awkwardly beside him, he quickly gestured between the two, "Lieutenant Tom
McNelly this is Officer Dana Smith and vice versa."



   Tom glanced at the woman, "Yeah, we met at the station earlier.  Good to
see you again, Dana."

   After a little more polite chit chat, Mark plopped himself down in Tom's
recliner, pulled a swiss army knife from his pocket, and, after helping
himself to a dowel, began whittling.  Dana soon joined Tom on the couch and
started carving her own dowel with a utility knife taken from a pouch on
her belt.

   After a few minutes had passed, Dana asked, "Aren't we supposed to
season them over an open flame or something?"

   "Hell if I know," Tom replied, "I missed the class at the Academy on the
finer aspects of spear making." Shifting his attention to Mark, he then
asked, "How are things with Jenny?"

   Mark rolled his eyes, "She's mad as hell.  Women just can't see the
humor in things.  She'll come around, though.  She's a fine gal."

   The group returned to their crude woodworking for a few minutes before
Mark asked, "Any thoughts on where we're going to set our trap?"



   Tom replied, "I have a few ideas, but I'll need to confirm some things
with Mia, and make sure she's willing to serve as bait, before there's any
point in tossing one out for a final decision."

   "Isn't she about due to wake up or, well, whatever it is she does?"

   "I'm guessing so.  I didn't think to ask her how dark it needs to be
before she wakes."

   Chapter 11

   For once when Mia awoke, she didn't need to extend her senses to be able
to tell that she wasn't alone; she could easily hear the two men bickering
and bantering in the next room with occasional input from a feminine voice.
Mia stretched, luxuriating in the feel of the soft bed beneath her.  Her
cramped dark casket was safer, but this certainly had its advantages as
well.

   Rising, she focused her will slightly to put her hair in place and
started to walk to the living room when she noticed a pile of women's
clothing with a post-it affixed to the top.  Even in the dim light she was
easily able to read the message, "I left this here because I wasn't sure
when you would wake.  I picked up some things to tide you over until we can
go shopping together.  If you'd like, you know where the shower is.  T."
Mia smiled and began poking through the stack.

   Several minutes later, she walked barefoot into the living room wearing
a pair of jeans and a Clarks t-shirt.  Both men and the woman looked up
from where they were carving points on sticks and greeted Mia with smiles,
though the woman's was quite cold.  Tom held out an arm in invitation.  Mia
bent forward for a quick embrace and a light kiss, marveling again at how
different this night was from the thousands that had preceded it.

   Tom, with occasional input from Mark, quickly brought her up to speed on
the preparations they had made during the day, and introduced her to Dana.
As Mia digested the information, Tom asked, "Would you mind working with
Dana for a few minutes to help us get a picture of Arthur?"

   Mia readily consented and the two women moved to the kitchen table,
pointedly ignoring the fast food containers and dirty dishes which
eloquently demonstrated that Tom was indeed a bachelor.  Dana quickly got
the laptop with its complex graphics software up and running; the term
"sketch artist" was something of an anachronistic misnomer in this day and
age.

   Outwardly, Dana worked with cool professionalism, but Mia could sense
the disquieting and often violent images running through her head; one of
the most prevalent being the image of Dana impaling Mia with one of the
crude spears.  Even worse for Mia, the scent of fear that rolled off the
woman in waves was exciting her predatory instincts.  Between this and the
pain that her assistance cost her, by the time they had a reasonably close
image of Arthur pieced together, Mia was seething with resentment and
anger.

   At last, after confirming with Mark and Tom that the image was to be
distributed to all patrol cars with orders to report any sighting
immediately but to make no attempt at arrest, Dana stood to leave.  As Dana
turned to nod farewell to Mia, a final improbable and violent image from
Dana's mind caused Mia's anger to boil over.  Mia returned the woman's nod
with a wide smile, her fangs sliding into place.  Dana paled and fled the
room.

   With a sad sigh, Tom asked Mia quietly, "Was that really necessary?"

   Mia returned hotly, "No, I suppose not, but she annoyed me.  The entire
time we were working, she kept fantasizing about impaling me with one of
your glorified curtain rods.  It pissed me off."

   Tom nodded in sympathy and replied, "I understand, but think of things
from her perspective.  She worked on the composite of you that went around
the station yesterday.  She knows that composite was done in connection
with the investigation of more than one murder.  She was listening on the
radio when the SWAT team reported sighting a male and a female perp during
the raid yesterday evening.  She helped pick up the pieces, sometimes
literally, last night.  She's far from stupid.  She knows that you were
somehow involved with the death of quite a few of her friends, even though
Mark told everyone that it was Arthur who did the actual killing.  She even
knows that you're a vampire.  Despite all of this, she was willing to come
here knowing that she would be working with you.  She, and the rest of our
team, are putting our collective goal ahead of any personal feelings."

   Mia slumped with a look of mild embarrassment on her face, "You're
right. Please tell her that I'm sorry.  I've never really worked as part of
a group before, but I am trying."

   Tom pulled her into a tight embrace, "I know you are, Mia.  We're all in
new territory here, it'll take some getting used to."

   After a moment, Tom released her and asked, "Would it be ok if we asked
you some questions?  If answering any of them will cause you pain, just let
us know and we'll move on."

   Mia shrugged, "Any information that I could give you that will be of any
use will be, at least to some degree, a betrayal of my Mas, err, of Arthur.
It's ok.  I'm accustomed to pain.  It's far easier to endure when it's for
a good cause." The faces of both men drooped in sympathy.

   They all sat silently for a few minutes, neither man apparently willing
to start asking questions when they knew what answering would cost her. 
Mia looked back and forth between them expectantly for a while before
finally blowing out a mouthful of air in exasperation.  Crossing her arms
across her chest as a bulwark against the pain she knew was coming, she
started, "How about if I just start with the basics, and then you can ask
questions as needed."

   At nods from both men, she continued, "From the moment a vampire is
created, it is far stronger, faster and more agile than it ever was in
life. All senses, sight, sound, hearing, taste, and touch, are also
enhanced.  As a vampire ages, all of these things improve.  The difference
from one year to the next isn't that impressive, but over the span of a
century the accumulation is very significant.  Age isn't the only factor
for determining the strength of an ability; there are individual variations
between us.  For example, my sense of smell is far better than Arthur's,
even though he is a lot older than I.  On the other hand, he is physically
stronger than I could ever hope to be, even if I survived for a thousand
years.  We also develop a few abilities like nothing we had as a mortal. 
Foremost is the ability to change, but we also have a very short range form
of telekinesis and can extend our senses remotely.  The influence of the
telekinesis is limited to things on or in very close proximity to our
bodies; for example we can clean or repair clothing, reorder our hair and
open locks if we're touching the key hole.  The extension of senses is like
a short range clairvoyance.  I can extend mine roughly thirty meters. 
Arthur maybe fifty."

   Now that the ice had been broken, Mark leaned towards her, "Tom told me
that he thought that maybe you could tell where your, uh, Arthur, is.  That
so?"

   Mia replied, "I can tell which direction he is in, but can't tell you
how far.  I'll know if he moves closer or further away, but I don't know
what good that will do you without knowing the start point."

   Tom pursed his lips in thought, "Which direction is he now?"

   With a wince of pain, Mia gestured to the southwest, "That way, moving
slightly away from us."

   "So, he's not coming for you at the moment, at least.  Would you be able
to lead us to him?" Mark asked.

   "Well, I could.  However, I wouldn't be able to pinpoint his location
until we got extremely close, say within twenty sachine, err, excuse me,
fifty meters.  I wouldn't even know that we were getting anything but
relatively closer until then.  That near, all it would take would be a
whisper from him and you would have two vampires to fight.  On a related
note, I should also tell you this: He was happy that the battle with your
men happened.  He wanted to be exposed.  Now that he is, he won't be hiding
anymore.  His daytime resting place will be well guarded, most likely by
mercenaries.  Robbing his victims for centuries and carefully investing
those gains has left him with nearly limitless resources for hiring them. I
also would not be surprised if he starts making new fledglings.  So, if you
go for him at night, you need to be ready for one hell of a fight.  It will
take, at the very least, overwhelming numbers."

   Tom gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, but focused his attention on
Mark, "Triangulation," he said simply.

   At Mia's look of confusion, Mark explained, "We take you around the
circumference of the city and have you point in his direction from several
known points.  We get out a map, draw some lines, and, bingo, we know where
he is."

   Mia nodded her head slowly.  "That could work, but I expect that he will
be on the move the entire time he is awake rather than sitting around
waiting for us to show up.  During the day, when he is in his new lair, I
won't be of much help."

   Tom's shoulders slumped slightly.  "Ok.  Do you think he'll come looking
for you?"

   Mia shivered, "Yes.  That is almost a certainty.  Whether it's to
reclaim his lost toy or to punish me for my betrayal of him, he will come."

   Far more gently, Tom asked, "When he does, would you be willing to be,
well, bait is really the only way to describe it?"

   Mia nodded quickly, "Of course.  When he comes for me, I would much
prefer that he walk into a trap than that the alternative occur.  If we do
set such a trap, though, you must make certain that I am tightly secured.
Thick chains would probably be best.  Otherwise, when he comes..."

   "Understood," Tom said.  He flicked his eyes toward Mark.

   "I'll pick some up from maintenance, boss.  No problem."

   Tom next asked, "Well, you've told us that wood and sunlight can kill
vampires.  How about full spectrum lights?"

   "We actually tried that on a feral a few decades ago.  It didn't work.
My theory is that it's not a physical property of the sun that does us harm
but a spiritual one."

   "Feral?" Mark asked.

   "When a vampire creates another, he can do it in two different ways. 
The first is by feeding his own blood to his victim as the victim is dying.
In this case, the fledgling will rise with mind intact.  If, however, a
vampire simply feeds on a person and does not disconnect the brain from the
body, that person will likely rise, but will be nothing but a mindless
animal.  Ferals are extremely hard to control and very dangerous.  Their
strength and speed are far greater than those of a normal fledgling of
equal age.  For these reasons, ferals are usually only created by mistake."

   Tom's eyes widened in sudden understanding, "So that's why the victim's
necks were broken."

   Mia nodded.

   What about things like garlic, crosses and holy water?" he then asked.

   Mia shook her head, "The belief that holy objects have power over us is
only superstition.  Arthur told me that there are some of our kind who were
very religious in life.  Because of their strong beliefs, holy symbols of
their specific faith could cause them -oh, what's the word?  -
psychosomatic injury.  Arthur's not like that.  On the other hand, I can
tell you from personal experience that garlic causes extreme skin
irritation that takes a while for even us to heal.  But while it interfered
with my ability to change and hurt like hell, it wasn't fatal."

   "You mentioned change earlier.  What does that mean, exactly?" Tom
asked.

   To demonstrate, Mia raised her hand, her eyes squinting in
concentration. The skin on her forearm and hand rippled and formed
chitinous spikes as her fingers and nails elongated to form sharp claws. 
Both men shied back with widening eyes.  She concentrated again and lowered
her now normal hand back to her lap.  "Change," she said.

   Chewing on his lower lip, Mark said, "Garlic could be useful.  We could
use garlic water like mace, maybe.  Might make him at least a little less
dangerous."

   Mark's eyes suddenly narrowed, "Hold on a sec.  You said that holy
symbols don't have any effect but that a spiritual property of the sun
does. Isn't there a bit of a contradiction there?"

   Mia shook her head, "Spirituality and religion are hardly synonymous or
even necessarily compatible."

   Hastily seeking to head off the brewing religious argument between Mia
and his devout Catholic friend, Tom asked, "Can you read minds, Mia?"

   "I can read surface thoughts, mostly in the form of images, and blur
recent memories.  I can also use a form of compulsion to plant limited
suggestions, but they will only be followed as long as they aren't
completely at odds with the person's desires.  Arthur's abilities in this
area are much stronger.  He can control a single person completely.  He can
root through all of your memories and make you relive any of his choosing.
He can also completely erase entire weeks from your recent memory."

   "Is there any way to keep him out of our heads?" Tom asked.

   "Not that I know of."

   "On a more personal note, Mia, would you be willing and able to live off
animals?" Tom asked in a casual tone.  Mia could tell from the way his
scent shifted to reveal intense anxiety that his interest was anything but
casual; to Tom this might be the most important answer of the night.

   Mia shrugged her shoulders helplessly, "As far as being able, I really
don't know.  Not long after I received the Gift, when my Master was
teaching me what it is to be a vampire, he told me that we could live off
of them for a time, but that we would slowly starve until we went mad from
hunger.  Whether he was telling the truth, I do not know.  I am willing to
try.  Just so you know, though, feeding means nothing unless a life is
taken.  I could never drain, say, a cow, enough to benefit from the
feeding. Any animal we try this with will have to be roughly the size of a
person or smaller."

   Tom looked over at Mark, "Do you remember that cadet you mentored a few
years back?  The one that moved out to the 'burbs right after training and
was heavily into 4H.  You still keep in touch with him?"

   Mark replied, "I remember him.  His name was Peter Black.  I haven't
really kept in touch; we exchange Christmas cards and that kinda shit, but
that's it.  I see where you're going, though.  I'll look up his number and
give him a call."

   "Thanks, Mark," said Mia, a smile brightening her face, "You have no
reason to want to help me, so I really appreciate that you are."

   "No problem.  Don't forget that I do owe you a couple," Mark answered,
"By the way, how long will it be until you need to feed again?"

   Mia shook her head slightly, "Less than a week.  It depends on a lot of
factors.  How much vitality the food had, the amount I use my abilities,
and whether or not I sustain any injury are a few."

   "How many of your kind are there, Mia?" Tom asked.

   "I'm sorry, but again, I really don't know.  Arthur has spoken of
others, including the one that made him, but I have never encountered
another besides him."

   Again they sat and looked at each other silently for a few moments, but
the men had exhausted their current supply of questions.  Finally, Mark
brought his palms down on his thighs with a resounding smack.  "Ok.  Recap
time.  The big, bad vamp isn't coming for our pretty little Mia just this
moment.  Going after him at night would be a really bad idea.  So, what are
we going to do?"

   Tom ran his fingers back through his hair with a sigh, "As much as I
hate the idea of reacting to him rather than taking action of our own, I
don't see that we currently have any other choice.  Even if he stays in one
place long enough to fix his position, our team hasn't had enough practice
with their new weapons to have a prayer of taking him out in the open. 
Until he makes a move to come for Mia or someone calls in a sighting, I
guess we do nothing.  So, let's contact our team and tell them to go home
and get some sleep.  Lets divide the team between us.  If and when
circumstances change, I'll call you first and then we'll each call the team
members on our list.  Once the call goes out, everyone is to muster at the
County Courthouse and Jail.  Oh, and if the call goes out tonight, call the
courthouse and make sure that the entrance and lobby are evacuated.  I'll
set up something more permanent with them tomorrow."

   The two men quickly divided their force in two, and made their
respective stand down calls.  Once they were finished, Mark said, "Well, if
that's everything, I guess I'll head on home to the missus.  I still have
some making up to do."

   Once Mark had left, Mia and Tom snuggled closer together on the couch,
each taking comfort from the simple presence of the other.  Thinking about
the number of times he had seen her face wince in pain during the question
and answer session, Tom asked quietly, "Are you, ok?"

   Mia looked up from his shoulder with a small smile, "Believe me, I've
experienced a lot worse." She cuddled more firmly into his chest, "I'm
feeling better already."

   For a long while, the two sat there on the couch, exchanging more gentle
questions and answers, each learning of the other as a person, but finally
Tom's lack of sleep began to show.  Despite his best efforts to stay awake,
Tom's eyes were soon too heavy to keep open and his head nodded back and
forth as if on a string.  Mia watched this with amusement for several
minutes before she laughed and said softly, "Why don't you go get some
sleep?  I'll be perfectly content watching tv or reading a book.  If Arthur
starts to move in our direction, I'll come wake you."

   Tom was so exhausted that he had no choice but to accept Mia's proposal.
After giving her a lingering kiss, he stood and headed toward his bed.  "If
you need anything, Mia, even if you're just feeling lonely and want to
talk, don't hesitate to wake me," he called out as he stripped and climbed
under the comforter.  He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

   Mia did try to watch tv for a time and even poked through Tom's rather
large collection of books, but she was too excited for such petty
diversions to keep her attention for long.  She was free!  At least for the
moment.

   After she had explored every square inch of the apartment outside of the
bedroom, Mia at last gave into temptation and moved quietly to the bed
where she stretched herself out next to Tom.  She turned on her side so she
was facing him and propped her head up on her palm.  Idly she wondered if
she were falling in love.  She had no frame of reference to use for
comparison; even in life the emotion had been a stranger to her.  Prior to
the day that Arthur had given her the Gift, she had, of course, been
married for years; the women of her village had been married at almost the
exact moment that they flowered, the betrothals arranged almost at birth.
She supposed that she had felt some affection for her husband, but the fact
that the marriage had not been of their choosing along with the fact that
it did not bear fruit kept any real intimacy from developing.

   After the Gift, she had known only pain and hate and loathing.  With a
shudder, she forced her mind away from the consideration of that dark,
endless time and returned her thoughts to the man before her.  She was
being silly and more than a little pathetic, she decided.  She had only
known him for a few days and she considered herself to be far too jaded and
world weary to give any credence to the notion of love at first sight. 
Nevertheless, she found that his mere presence made her feel joy such as
she had only rarely known before the Gift and never after it.  When he
spoke, all she could think about was the way his lips had felt when pressed
against hers.  When he looked at her, she felt like she was melting inside.
When they were apart, she could barely concentrate on anything as her mind
endlessly filled with thoughts of him.  Since he had entered her dreary
existence her dread of the future had faded to be replaced by another
emotion with which she had previously had only passing acquaintance: Hope.

   With a start Mia realized that she had been lost in thought for hours.
She quickly felt along the bond that connected her to Arthur.  He was still
distant and, although lust and a sort of oily smugness were filtering back
through the bond, there was no sign that he was coming for her.  Mia turned
back to Tom and decided that he had slept long enough.

   Softly, so as not to wake him, she eased the comforter down his body
until it was pooled in the vicinity of his knees.  For a moment she just
looked at him, a gentle smile on her lips, then she twisted around on the
bed until she was perpendicular to his hips, her legs tucked beneath her
stomach.  Her hair fell in soft waves over his loins, and she gently moved
her head back and forth, dragging the silken strands across his upper
thighs and soft manhood.  At the soft, slightly tickling, caress, Tom
shifted and murmured in his sleep.  With another smile, Mia pulled her hair
up so that it lay down her back before extending her tongue and lowering
her slightly pouted lips to his flesh.  She traced her tongue lightly
around the base of his scrotum, savoring the salty taste and musky smell of
his skin.  Shifting her head slightly, she ran her tongue over the wrinkled
skin of his sack, pausing momentarily to suck one of his testicles gently
into her mouth before sliding her tongue to the base his still flaccid
member.  In its current state, she was able to easily take his entire
length into her mouth where she sucked it softly while swirling her tongue
over its entire surface.  As it grew in her mouth, she concentrated the
movements of her tongue increasingly on his glans, occasionally teasing the
hole at its end with the tip of her tongue.  When it became fully hard, she
sighed in excitement at the sound and feel of the life pulsing just beneath
his skin.

   Tom came awake with a long, drawn out moan.  Mia felt one of his hands
caress her head and the side of her face before running down the length of
her back.  For a moment she could sense images of the wound she had
inflicted on the drug dealer flashing through his mind, and fear warred
with the combination of his arousal and his growing trust in her.  The
still hard flesh in her mouth left no room for doubt as to which emotions
were victorious.

   Mia shifted her body around so that she was lying between his legs,
which he readily spread to accommodate her.  She grinned mischievously
around his member as she looked up his body to meet his eyes.  He returned
her smile while softly brushing the hair from her face.

   Mia suddenly realized that, for the first time ever, she was with a man
whom she wanted to please and who knew and accepted what she was.  The
wicked possibilities of the situation made her grin grow even wider.

   She concentrated for a moment and small prehensile tentacles, like a
hundred tiny tongues, sprouted from the surface of her tongue, her inner
cheeks and the roof of her mouth, each of them softly caressing the flesh
of her lover.  Shivers of ecstasy ran up and down Tom's body and he threw
back his head in pleasure.



   Mia began to bob her head slowly up and down his length, never ceasing
the tender movement of the tiny tongues across whatever portion of his cock
was encased within her oral cavity at the moment.  With sudden inspiration,
Mia concentrated again and two of the tongues lengthened, stretching down
to lovingly and lightly lave his balls.

   As Tom's legs began to tremor and shake, Mia sensed his overwhelming
need to climax.  In response, she bobbed her head with ever greater
rapidity while slightly increasing the pressure being applied by her new
appendages.  Suddenly, she could feel every muscle in Tom's body go rigid,
his hips thrusting upwards.  She took him in as deeply as she was able and
felt liquid warmth erupt into her mouth.  As his climax faded, she swabbed
her tongues one last time over his member, cleaning it of every last drop
of his salty essence.

   Tom grasped her arms and gently began to coax her upwards.  Realizing
that the sight of her changed mouth could well be horrifying, regardless of
how it had made him feel, she resisted for a moment while she focused her
will enough to return her flesh to its normal state.  Afterwards, she
crawled happily up his body and into his embrace.  He held her tightly to
him and kissed her deeply, easing one of his hands beneath her shirt to
lightly scratch at the skin on her back.

   As he gazed softly into her eyes, Mia, acting on sudden impulse, timidly
extended her senses.  What she discovered made her eyes go wide in wonder:
his feelings for her matched those she had for him.  Basking in the sudden
warmth that suffused her body, a warmth that had nothing to do with body
heat, Mia joyfully snuggled her head into his chest, planting small
fluttering kisses everywhere she could reach.

   Tom began to move beneath her and she could sense his intent to give her
pleasure, not as a quid pro quo for what she had just done, but simply
because he desired her happiness.  She stopped him with a kiss.  "Just hold
me, Tom," she said languorously, "You can't imagine how good it feels to be
held."

   She could feel his smile against the crown of her head as he replied,
"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea."

   They lay entwined for a long, joyful eternity before the moment was
broken by the loud ringing of Tom's cell phone.  They both turned to look
at the clock; it was nearly 3 a.m.  Suddenly tense, Tom answered.  Mia
listened to his side of the conversation, "Yes, Chief...  Good Lord... 
I'll get the men together and be right there.  Could you make sure that no
one goes in before we arrive?...  Thanks."

   Tom looked down at her soberly, "There's been an incident and it sounds
bad.  From the sound of it, there is a remote chance that Arthur is still
in the area.  It would probably be safest if you stayed here.  I'll jot my
cell phone number down.  If you sense him heading in your direction, call
me."

   Mia nodded her agreement and watched as he dressed and made a number of
phone calls to assemble his task force.  Then, after a quick embrace and a
kiss, he was out the door.

   Chapter 12

   Arthur gazed out across the city skyline from the top of Mount
Washington.  The downtown area nestled on the large delta formed by two
rivers flowing together to form one.  At the very point of the delta was a
large well lit fountain; the droplets of cascading water scattering the
light like millions of falling diamonds.  The handful of massive
skyscrapers were brightly lit, glowing like beacons in the dark.  The
concrete and steel of the myriad bridges that crossed the three rivers had
faded into shadow, so that the bridges were marked only by the lights that
were strung across their lengths.  As a result they had a delicate
appearance, almost as if they had been constructed by the fairies and elves
of myth.

   This city really is aesthetically pleasing, he thought, it's almost a
shame what I'm going to do to it.  He had spent the earlier part of the
evening meeting with several mercenaries he had done business with years
ago in New Orleans during a period when he had been aggressively hunted
after overindulging himself.  He had called them the night before and, for
the amount of money he was offering, they had been willing to fly in
immediately.  Arthur had, of course, spent a large part of the meeting
planting suggestions in their minds to insure their absolute loyalty and to
prevent any moral qualms from interfering with their duties.

   For a moment he was distracted by the emotions feeding back from his
bond with Mia, forcing him to contemplate her fate.  He would have to
destroy her for her treachery, he decided, no matter that he had pushed her
to it.  He would, however, postpone it for a few nights.  Even in such a
short time, she would begin to hope that she would live, that she would
retain her freedom, and that her apparent newfound love could continue. 
Looking into her eyes as those hopes were crushed would make her death far
more satisfying.

   He turned his thoughts to the confrontation the night before.  He was
faintly irritated with the city and its police force over the matter.  He
had very publicly exterminated a significant number of policemen, but they
had still managed to keep the event relatively quiet.  Oh, they hadn't
tried to hide the loss of their elite unit, but they had attributed it to a
well armed gang hopped up on meth.  The truth would come out eventually,
Arthur knew; he had felt the terrified minds of the neighbors peering out
from behind nearly drawn curtains.  But the exposure of the authorities'
lies would take time and he was growing impatient, if not for the reason he
had expected.

   He still wanted to force his Maker to expose herself, but now, even
more, he wanted war.  He was weary of hiding in the shadows, tired of
limiting his feeding to the weak and poor and morally bankrupt.  He
relished the thought of combat with enemies who knew what he was.  For so
long his existence had lacked challenge.

   His thoughts were interrupted by a soft contralto voice.  "I assume that
it is no coincidence that you are in my city?"

   Startled, he spun around to stare at the diminutive Asian woman who had
spoken.  Her long black tresses hung to her hips, perfectly straight and
shining slightly in the light of the street lamp.  Under her elegant black
dress, her body appeared thin, almost boyish.  The fine features of her
olive toned face were so beautiful as to inspire poetry, or even murder. 
His senses had not warned him of her approach and still did not register
her presence.  She was a void to him.

   Knowing his thoughts, the woman smiled mockingly.  She then squinted her
slightly tilted eyes and, for Arthur, it was as if a veil had been drawn
from the sun.  The power emanating from her was of such magnitude that he
staggered backwards, falling to his knees with a cry of awe and anguish. 
She watched him cower for a moment before, with another narrowing of her
eyes, the void returned.

   She looked at him impatiently, "I believe I asked you a question,
child."

   Arthur fumbled to recall the question, to form a reply, "It is no
coincidence, Mistress.  I came here looking for you."

   "Do not call me 'Mistress', boy.  I never claimed that title over you.
As I recall, I released you from those ties even before they had finished
forming.  Now, why are you seeking me?"

   Arthur swallowed reflexively before answering, "I want to know why."

   The woman's mocking laughter struck Arthur like a blow.  "The child
seeks out the parent to ask the meaning of life?  How very droll.  You come
to my city and break the most ancient of our taboos merely to know why you
were created; why you exist?"

   At Arthur's mute nod, the woman continued, "I would have expected you to
have learned by now that life has no purpose other than to live.  I gave
you the Gift because I knew that you would not waste eternity feeling guilt
over the victims of your hunger.  I knew that you were one who would revel
in this existence and squeeze from it every last drop of pleasure it could
offer."

   "But why does our kind exist?"

   The woman's thin eyebrows arched upwards in surprised amusement.  "Our
kind exists for the most basic reason of all.  I refused to die."

   At Arthur's expression of sudden epiphany, the woman drawled, "Yes,
child, I, Lei Gu, was the first.  I was born in a time when the Egyptians
were just learning to stack one rock on top of another.  When I was old
enough to understand the ephemeral nature of human existence, I dedicated
myself to learning all of the knowledge of my people, seeking a way to
extend my life.  My people's understanding of the nature of existence
proved to be sadly lacking so I traveled, alone and unaided, across the
Gobi desert to the lands of the sag-giga, surviving the journey only by
pure strength of will.

   "There I studied with the followers of Enlil, god of the ghost land, in
the great cities of Eridu, Sippar and Shuruppak.  I learned glorious
things; dark, terrible, glorious things and eventually rose to become the
foremost Master of the Zi.  One of the things that I learned, child, is
that there are many worlds that exist adjacent to this one, some with
properties that are completely antithetical to our own.  One such world is
inhabited by beings of great and terrible power who peer into our world
with longing and hunger.  But the very nature of the life that they crave
to devour would cause their immediate destruction if they were to cross the
veil that separates the worlds unaided.

   "As my natural life was drawing to a close, I used the influence I had
attained to command that a great ritual be performed.  After months of
incantations, we sacrificed a thousand children to tear a hole in the veil
that separates the realities.  Then, when the moon and stars had reached
the perfect alignment and the incantations of hundreds of Masters of the Zi
had reached a thundering climax, I opened my own veins.  The hot blood that
flowed from me formed a conduit that allowed one of those beings, those
Outsiders, to pass from his world into me, giving me new life even as the
old drained into the sand.

   "As we fused into one, I mouthed the spells that established our nature,
subjugating the will of the Outsider completely to our own, allowing us to
pass the gift to others, and forging the bonds of compulsion between Master
and fledgling so that none could become greater than I."

   Lei paused in her narrative and, when she continued, her voice had gone
from exultant to bitter, "It was then, in my moment of triumph, that I was
betrayed.  One of my Masters of the Zi was secretly a priest of Utu, the
sun god, and believed the ritual to be an abomination.  Although his was
only one voice among many he was able to twist and pervert the magicks,
making it so that none who received the Gift could ever venture into the
realm of his lord."

   Lei fixed Arthur with a hard stare, "There, child.  Now you know the
price I paid for the gift that I gave you freely.  Tell me this: have you
squandered that which you were given?"

   Arthur returned her gaze levelly, refusing to be cowed any longer
despite that which had been revealed.  "No, I have not."

   Lei threw her head back in laughter.  "How arrogant you are, child. 
Such arrogance is required to survive for millennia.  Perhaps I was right
in giving you the gift." Her laughter ceased as she again fixed him with a
glare.  "You would do well to learn from my example and be more
discriminating when you choose to create a fledgling.  It takes far more
than large breasts and a pretty face to truly be one of us."

   "You know of Mia?"

   Lei's mouth twisted in derision.  "This city is my domain, Arthur.  I
know the thoughts, dreams, hopes and fears of all within it.  That includes
you and your progeny."

   The corners of Lei's lips turned up in a cold smile, "Now that you have
your answers, will you continue to walk down your current path?"

   Arthur considered this for a long moment before answering, simply,
"Yes."

   "Even though it could well bring the wrath of your brethren down upon
you?  Before you answer, consider this: the blame for your first
confrontation with mortal authorities might well be passed off to your
rebellious fledgling, but you, and only you, will be held responsible for
any actions taken from this point forward."

   "Will you oppose me, Mistress?"

   Lei frowned at being addressed by the title she had rejected, but her
brow furrowed in thought.  "No.  I don't believe that I will.  Not now. 
However, you should know that I created the law for a reason.  There is a
natural balance to every pairing of predator and prey, even one as
unnatural as ours.  If predators become too numerous or prey becomes too
scarce, the continued existence of both is put at risk.  If your actions
should ever grow to such a magnitude as to threaten that balance, I will
destroy you and yours without hesitation, mercy or remorse.  I have walked
this earth for seven thousand years and I will not be undone by the whim of
a willful child."

   Lei continued, "However, the developed nations have become too
comfortable, too complacent.  While the mortals jump at every minor threat,
real or imagined, to their empty, comfortable lives, they have forgotten
the true meaning of fear.  It was fear that inspired many of their greatest
works of art.  Many of their greatest discoveries were birthed in terror.
Without fear they have become less vibrant, less motivated, less vital.  I
grow bored with them.  So go, child, and teach them what it truly means to
be afraid.  I may even assist you on occasion.  Then again, I may not.  If
our kin come for you, though, I will not interfere.  I created the law that
you seek to violate and, while I choose not to enforce it personally,
keeping others from doing so would render it meaningless."

   It was Arthur's turn to sneer in derision.  "Since the time you gave me
the Gift, I have traveled to nearly every part of this world.  There are
maybe twenty of us in existence and certainly no more than twice that.  In
the absence of overwhelming numbers, I have no fear of cowards who skulk in
the shadows, denying themselves their true potential."

   Lei laughed again, "Arrogance."

   In a blur of motion, Lei was upon him, her hands gripping his head
tightly.  "I think I will give you one more gift, boy.  A gift of
knowledge. Use it well." Lei again unmasked her strength, this time with a
purpose other than simple display.  The power poured into every orifice,
every pore of Arthur's body, the divided flows reuniting in his mind with
such force that he fell, quaking and screaming, to his knees.  She released
her grasp on his head and he fell bonelessly to the pavement.

   Arthur managed to twist his head around to watch as Lei ran to the edge
of the observation platform and leaped out over the precipice, change
twisting and rippling across her entire body.  In an instant, a bird
existed in the place that she had occupied but a moment before.  A bird the
size of a condor but with the form of a raven.  With a few powerful beats
of wings that extended beyond the merely physical, it was gone.  Arthur lay
stunned.  While the change was overtaking her, in the instant when she was
between her human form and that of the avian, he had glimpsed the
horrifyingly beautiful visage of the Outsider.  It had threatened his very
sanity.

   When he was finally able to stand again, Arthur jumped down the face of
the steep incline to stand on the bank of the river at its base.  There he
spoke an incantation in a language that had only rarely been heard since
the fall of Babylon and strode across the surface of the water to be about
his dark purpose.

   Chapter 13

   Alicia hated her job.  Sam's Tavern was ostensibly a biker bar, but its
true clientele was a horrid mix of wannabes and parolees.  The parking lot
contained far more beat-up Honda Civics and rusty Ford Escorts than it did
Harleys.  As she wiped up yet another spilled beer on the bar, the
perpetrator of the mess gave her a sharp slap on the ass, laughing
uproariously at his own daring.  She sighed but otherwise ignored his
actions; she knew from experience that showing a reaction would just make
things worse.  Idly, Alicia wondered what awful thing she had done in a
previous life that had earned her the humiliations she was forced to endure
here every moment of every working night.

   She walked to the back of the pool room over a sticky film of spilled
beer and chewing tobacco and filled a tray with empty PBR and Old Milwaukee
bottles, again ignoring the hands that continuously snaked out to quickly
grope her ass or tits as she moved between the tables.  Yes, she decided,
she would certainly quit tomorrow if her husband hadn't just dumped her for
a younger woman leaving her destitute and barely able to pay her rent.

   She had just resumed her perch behind the bar and returned her attention
to the big clock on the wall, watching the seconds until last call slowly
tick down, when she heard the front door open.  She didn't pay any
attention until she noticed that the bar had gone silent.  Looking around,
she saw that all eyes were focused on the door.  Following their gaze, she
saw a tall, distinguished looking gentleman in a suit, tie and trench coat.
He practically exuded wealth.  She snapped her gaze back to the clock. 
Midnight.  Shit.  Most of her customers would be well into their cups by
now.  This could get ugly.

   The suit approached the bar and wiped off a section with a silk
handkerchief produced from his coat pocket.  Resting his arms on the
slightly cleaner patch of bar, he peered about with a look of amiable
curiosity.  His actions were met with a collective jeer from the rest of
the patrons and many of the leather and chain clad crowd began to close in.
"Dammit," Alicia whispered to herself, "only two more hours to go and now I
have to deal with this bullshit."

   She hurried down the length of the bar until she was opposite the suit.
Leaning over she rapidly whispered, "Excuse me, sir, but I really think you
would be much happier at the Rosebud Lounge down the street."

   He turned his cool, oblivious gaze to her and said, "Oh, no.  This place
has just the atmosphere I was looking for."

   Alicia grunted in exasperation.  "Look, sir.  A lot of the guys here are
drunk as hell.  If you don't leave now, you might get hurt." Alicia wished
this rich asshole would just take the hint and leave; she didn't want to
have to go through the hassle of dealing with the cops.

   He reached out and patted her hand with cold, smooth fingers while
chuckling politely as if she had told a joke, "I'll be fine, my dear.  I
won't be rousted by a bunch of vagabonds and vermin."

   Alicia winced.  A number of the men had been more than close enough to
hear the insult.  One of her regulars, a beefy man named Stan, who was
standing at the bar near the suit, immediately began to posture, pushing
his chest out and shoulders back.  The display reminded Alicia of a show
she had seen on Animal Planet about territorial fights between silverback
gorillas.

   Stan moved forward, pushing his chest into that of the suit.  "What did
you call me, faggot?" Stan shouted.  Alicia rolled her eyes; originality
was apparently not one of Stan's strong points.

   The suit slowly looked Stan over, a sneer of disgust twisting his
features.  "I believe the term applicable to you, Stan, would be 'vermin.'"

   The wrongness of the whole situation suddenly hit Alicia like a brick.
She wanted to scream, to tell Stan, to tell everyone, to run.  The suit
obviously wasn't drunk or stupid.  He had to be a cop, or have a gun or...
something.  With widening eyes, she recalled the rumor that it hadn't been
a gang that wiped out the SWAT team the night before, as it had said in the
newspaper, but a single unarmed man.  Suddenly, it seemed that everything
was moving in slow motion.  She saw Stan's arm cock back, a stupid smile
plastered across his face.  She wanted to dive across the bar and stop him,
but her legs were frozen in place.  Stan's arm started forward, and it
seemed to Alicia that the suit turned his face to her and winked, but in
the blink of an eye the suit was again staring at Stan, a look of mild
amusement on his face.  Stan's fist came around in a vicious haymaker which
rapidly closed in on the suit's head.  When it seemed that the only image
that yet remained to be seen was that of the suit flying back in a spray of
blood, the suit's hand moved in a blur, catching Stan's fist less than an
inch from his cheek.  Stan's arm came to a complete stop in an instant, the
backlash of its thwarted momentum staggering him.

   Stan twisted and pulled, trying to free his fist, but it might as well
have been stuck in stone.  The suit stood motionless, continuing to stare
at Stan dispassionately, showing no sign of strain from resisting Stan's
frantic struggles.  And then the suit smiled, the tips of long sharp fangs
showing between his parted lips.  Alicia felt hot urine run down her leg.

   A terrible, crackling sound emanated from where the suit's hand gripped
Stan's fist.  Alicia saw a few drops of blood run down the suit's wrist to
his shirt sleeve.  The drops became a trickle which became a stream which
turned into a river.  Stan stared at the gush of blood with eyes wide in
disbelief, and then he screamed in terrible agony, slumping downwards as
his knees went weak.  The suit's other hand blurred across his body before
striking out at Stan with a viscous backhand that flung Stan across the
room, the ruins of his crushed hand leaving a trail of scarlet droplets
behind him.

   The rest of the men in the bar closed in on the suit, alcohol and
natural belligerence overcoming common sense.  The suit danced sinuously
among the mob, dodging pool cues, bar stools, fists and feet with ease. 
Every few seconds the suit struck out with fist or foot and another of the
bar's patrons fell backwards clutching at a shattered face or broken limb.
Hot, thick fluid splashed across Alicia's face and she fell, vomiting, to
the floor.

   Arthur reveled in the physical combat, not bothering to change or bring
his will to bear.  In less than a minute the bar's patrons lay about him
groaning in pain, those still conscious cowering from him in fear.  Arthur
reached down near his feet and grabbed one of the men by his greasy hair,
using it to pull the man to his feet.  As the man whimpered in terror,
Arthur's head thrust forward, his fangs sinking deeply into the man's
throat.  Arthur drank deeply, shuddering with the pleasure of feeding,
until the man's heart came to a stumbling halt.  Throwing the dry husk
casually to the side, Arthur moved on to the next man and repeated the
process.  When he, too, had been drained and discarded, Arthur moved among
all the others in the room, pausing occasionally to regurgitate the blood
of his last victims to make room for the blood of the next.  When he
finally leaned back against the bar with a sigh of satisfaction, all
seventeen men in the room were dead, but no necks had been broken.  Ferals
were difficult to control, but Arthur felt up to the task.

   With a grunt of sudden recollection, Arthur locked the door and then
walked to the back of the bar, briefly concentrating his will to clean his
suit of blood as he did.  When he rounded the end of the bar he looked down
into the terrified eyes of the woman who lay trembling on the floor.

   Arthur smiled down upon her malevolently, "Well, hello there, Alicia. 
Hiding from me?  What a poor hostess you are.  It may take several hours
for our friends to awake, but I know that you'll keep me entertained while
we wait.  Yes?"

   Arthur reached down and placed his forefinger under Alicia's chin,
applying enough upward pressure to make her stand.  He ran his eyes slowly
up and down the trembling woman.  She had been beautiful once, he decided,
but only a shadow of that beauty still remained.  Years of disappointment,
poverty and substance abuse had taken their toll.

   Taking her chin in his hand, Arthur tilted her head from side to side,
examining it from every angle.  Her features were well proportioned, her
cheek bones high and delicate, but deep lines around her mouth and eyes
gave her a perpetually worn and bitter look.  Her nose, while straight and
well shaped, was traced with veins and broken blood vessels due to the
profligate use of alcohol.

   Arthur held a finger up in front of Alicia's nose and her brown eyes
crossed slightly as she attempted to focus on it.  She gasped in fear and
her eyes widened as the tip of that finger lengthened and curved into a
cruel, sharp talon.  Arthur drew the talon slowly along the quivering skin
of her face, then down that of her throat and chest until he reached the
neckline of her low cut sweater.  There he slashed it quickly downwards,
slicing easily through the polyester of her sweater, the naugahyde of her
belt, the denim of her jeans and the cotton of her bra and panties.  Arthur
brushed at the ruined clothing with his unchanged fingers and it fell into
a pile behind Alicia, leaving her nude before him.

   Her breasts were large and heavy, though gravity and time had made them
sag significantly.  Alicia drew in her breath sharply as Arthur traced the
talon around one of her large areola, small beads of blood rising from her
skin in its wake.  Arthur then drew the claw lightly down the center of her
stomach, noting that while it was still relatively flat, the flesh was
overly soft and deeply lined with stretch marks from a long ago pregnancy.
When he reached the thick, black bush of pubic hair, still damp and matted
from her earlier loss of bladder control, his mouth twisted in distaste. 
Turning the claw sideways against her skin, he drew it slowly across the
top of the mass of hair, leaving only stubble behind it.

   Arthur reached up to her head and grabbed a handful of her short black
hair.  He twisted until, with a grimace of pain, she was forced to turn
around, giving him the opportunity to examine her from behind.  Although
her hips flared out nicely, her buttocks sagged and they, and her upper
thighs, were thick with cellulite.  Arthur ran the talon along the curve of
one of her ass cheeks, stopping when he reached the center to circle it
lightly over the delicate skin of her anus.  His lips curved in a smile of
satisfaction as she whimpered.

   He leaned into her back and whispered in her ear, "Shame on you, dear,
for taking such poor care of yourself.  If I had any alternate sources of
entertainment, I would surely kill you and move on."

   Arthur suddenly released her and pushed her roughly in the direction of
the sink behind the bar.  "Now clean your piss off of yourself.  You
disgust me," he commanded.

   Sobbing in fear and humiliation, Alicia dipped a bar rag in the basin of
soapy water and did as she was told.

   When she had completed her task, Arthur unzipped his pants and pulled
out the thickest, ugliest dick that Alicia had ever seen.  "Suck my cock,
Alicia," Arthur ordered, "And remember that your life may depend on how
well you please me."

   Alicia's sobs grew more violent and tears ran down her cheeks as she
moved timidly toward him.  When he began to tap his foot impatiently, she
dropped quickly to her knees and leaned forward to take him into her mouth.

   Arthur's eyebrows rose in surprise; the woman was actually doing a
commendable job despite her obvious terror; sucking lightly while bobbing
her mouth up and down more than half of his length.  Still, it wouldn't do
to let her know that she was pleasing him.

   "You are pathetic, girl.  Do I have to show you how to do everything?"
he hissed as he again grabbed a handful of her hair.  Using her hair as a
handle, he forced her mouth rapidly up and down his entire length, forcing
the end of his cock repeatedly into the entrance of her throat and beyond.
It left her choking and gagging, but he ignored the pleading look in her
wide watering eyes.

   Finally tiring of the game, Arthur pushed her away from him until his
dick fell from her lips.  Pulling her to her feet by her hair, he spun her
around and thrust her face down over the bar.  Reaching between her legs he
flicked one of his unchanged nails hard against her clit, making her jump
and wince with pain.  Quickly moving in behind her he forced himself fully
into her dry canal with a single thrust, causing her to grasp the edge of
the bar tightly while emitting a groan like a wounded animal.

   Even as Arthur drove his cock into Alicia's defenseless body, he drove
his will into her mind, making her relive every disappointment, every
betrayal and every humiliation that she had ever experienced from the time
she was a child.  The sheer volume of those memories surprised Arthur, even
while opening his mind to a possibility not heretofore considered.  As the
flashing of the unwanted memories through her brain slowed and came to a
stop, Alicia threw her head back with a forlorn and despondent wail. 
Squeezing her eyes shut, she collapsed limply across the bar, responding
even to the ongoing brutal violation of her body with only the tiniest of
whimpers.

   Arthur leaned forward over her sweat slicked body.  "Don't quit on me
yet, Alicia," he hissed in her ear, "we've just barely begun."

   Arthur concentrated briefly and the fingers on his non-taloned hand
fused and lengthened, forming a single long, thick digit.  Arthur traced
the newly enlarged finger down the crack of Alicia's ass until he reached
the wrinkled skin of her anus.  There he lightly rubbed the tip around the
pucker.

   This gentle caress roused Alicia from her stupor.  Her eyes snapped open
and she whimpered, "Not there.  Please not there."

   Amusement in his voice, Arthur whispered in reply, "Yes, Alicia. 
There." Arthur thrust the thick digit fully into the writhing woman's ass,
pushing effortlessly past the defensively clenched muscles of her
sphincter. Arthur synchronized the movements of the great finger with the
thrusts of his cock in her cunt and smiled as her screams began anew.

   After what seemed to Alicia to be an endless eternity, Arthur suddenly
withdrew completely from her body.  Taking her hips in his still modified
hands, he roughly and easily flipped her over onto her back and moved
forward to penetrate her again, this time pushing his cock into her red,
swollen and abraded asshole while plunging the enhanced finger into her
cunt.

   Sensing that Alicia was becoming inured even to this, Arthur leaned
forward and took the tip of one of her heavy breasts into his mouth,
sucking lightly on her nipple before extending his fangs into the soft and
delicate skin of the areola.  His bite had its usual effect: she reared up
in agony as the pain from her cruelly pierced flesh sliced through her
brain and then her body went rigid, all of her muscles clenching at once,
as a fiery orgasm blazed through her, suffusing every ounce of her flesh.

   Arthur detected movement out of the corner of his eye and regretfully
concluded that he would have to bring his time with Alicia to a close. 
While continuing to thrust his cock violently in and out of her ass, he
removed his fangs from the tender, bleeding flesh of her breast and pulled
the great finger from her twat.  After returning his fused hand to its
normal state, he leaned over her writhing body and pressed his lips to her
ear.

   He whispered, "All your life people have hurt you, betrayed you,
subjected you to humiliations without end.  How does that make you feel,
Alicia?"

   The intense agony and exquisite pleasure that warred for dominance in
her overloaded brain prevented Alicia from dissembling or telling anything
less than the truth.  "I hate it.  I hate them," she panted.

   "Who do you mean by 'them', Alicia?"

   "Everyone," she whimpered.

   "And what would you like to do to 'them', Alicia?"

   She cried out, "I want them to hurt!  I...  I want them to suffer."

   "Good girl," Arthur said approvingly before lowering his mouth to her
neck and biting deep.  Even as Alicia cried out in another unwilling
orgasm, the hot, thick blood rushing down Arthur's throat spawned its own
reaction.  As he felt his pleasure rise, Arthur thrust his cock fully into
her ass and fired his lifeless seed into the depths of her bowels.

   When Arthur felt her heart begin to falter, fluttering like a fragile
bird within the cage of her ribs, he disengaged briefly and slashed open
his shoulder with the talon.  Pulling her mouth to the gaping wound, Arthur
commanded, "Drink, Alicia.  Drink deeply."

   At first Alicia's cool, blue tinted lips lay slackly on Arthur's
shoulder.  Then he felt her tongue extend slowly to take a first tentative
taste of his cool fluids.  That first dainty touch of her tongue became
broad laps before she finally clamped her lips over the gaping wound and
sucked deeply, greedily.  Caressing the back of her head, Arthur crooned,
"That's it, Alicia.  Drink!" Arthur lowered his mouth back down to her
throat and drained her until her breath came out in a gurgling rattle and
her lips fell lifelessly from his shoulder.

   Turning his attention toward the bar room, Arthur noted that three of
the faux bikers were already pulling themselves to their feet and several
others were twitching violently.  The three who were standing turned toward
Arthur, their faces were hideous masks of bestial fury.

   Arthur knew that the next few seconds were critical.  The bond between
Master and fledgling existed even with ferals, but it was greatly
complicated by their inability to comprehend language.  To bring them under
control, Arthur had to quickly dredge up images from the tattered remnants
of their memories which would convey his purpose to them.  It was a precise
and exacting exercise; no longer possessing the ability to reason, a feral
would be unable to deduce Arthur's intent if the instructions he gave in
imagery were even the slightest bit ambiguous.  Were he too slow or his
instructions less than precise, the feral would move to attack Arthur and
the bond would strike it dead.

   Arthur worked feverishly for the next half hour.  Of the seventeen
former bar patrons, thirteen had risen.  Arthur had taken control of all
but one of these.  That one's memories had been even more fragmented than
the others and Arthur had been unable to piece together instructions before
the feral attacked.  Undeterred by the pain caused by its intent, it had
rushed across the room with arms outstretched, only to fall lifeless to the
floor as its fingers closed on Arthur's throat.  Still, Arthur was
satisfied; less had risen than he had hoped, but, in the end, he had more
ferals under control than he had dared to expect.

   For a time, Arthur paraded his new minions to and fro across the bar
floor, perfecting the art of controlling them.  Once satisfied with his
skill, he gathered his ferals by the door, and tossed Alicia over his
shoulder in preparation for departure.  As he reached for the lock a sudden
thought occurred to him which resulted in his dropping Alicia's limp form
to the floor.  Arthur quickly searched through the clothing of all of the
former patrons, feral and the truly dead alike, and collected the knives he
found in pockets, shirt sleeves and boot tops.  Arthur then carried one of
the corpses to the bar and used the knives to spike it into place, its
staring, sightless eyes facing toward the door.  Placing his thumbs over
the death glazed orbs, Arthur delved again into Lei's gift and muttered a
brief incantation.  Pulling his hands away with a grunt of satisfaction, he
again draped Alicia over his shoulder and led his pack of ferals out into
the night.

   Extending his senses to the fullest, Arthur guided the ferals southward
through a maze of streets and alleys, choosing his path to avoid witnesses
where possible, blurring memories where it was not.  Soon they had left the
towers of steel, glass and concrete behind and, twenty minutes and seven
miles later, the pack entered the town of Pleasant Hills, wherein resided
one James Bollinger, former opera lover turned fledgling.

   They entered the Bollinger residence through a set of large Bilco doors
which led to an unfinished, windowless basement.  Arthur got the ferals
settled in among the neatly labeled cardboard boxes that cluttered the
large room with orders not to move until commanded differently.  He then
dumped Alicia's limp and still apparently lifeless body in front of the
door to a small bathroom before heading up the stairs to the house proper.

   When Arthur entered the living room, he found his fledgling sitting on
the couch, his face endlessly shifting in change as he struggled to perfect
his duplication of Arthur's features.  Arthur watched with interest for a
moment; given the limited ability of new fledglings to change, James was
doing quite well.

   Arthur moved to take a seat opposite the fledgling, "You may stop,
Jimmy."

   James' face immediately ceased rippling and he turned to look at his
Master impassively.

   Arthur snorted derisively, "You should know by now, Jimmy, that it
doesn't matter if you have a face like a sea boot, I can feel your
resentment, your hate, your despair."

   In a voice hot with anger, James answered, "How can you expect any
different?  You raped my wife in front of me!  You turned me into a
monster! You made me drink my wife's blood!  You made me kill her!" The
anger drained suddenly and he continued in a small, wheedling voice, "You
have already taken all that I have, why can't you just let me die?"

   With a cold smile, Arthur replied, "Oh, you will die, Jimmy.  Have no
doubt of that.  But only when your death will be of benefit to me.  Now, on
to a matter of actual importance.  Have several heavily armed men arrived
yet?"

   "Yes, Master.  They are in the bedrooms upstairs.  They wished for me to
tell you that they will be up and on duty by dawn."

   "Excellent.  Go to the basement and prepare for dormancy.  Do not
disturb any of the others that are there."

   James stood and exited the room.  As he passed through the doorway to
the basement, Arthur called after him, "Oh, and Jimmy?  You have my
permission to weep, if you wish."

   As James descended into the cellar, accompanied by the sound of Arthur's
contemptuous laughter, cold tears ran down his cheeks.

   After he had dismissed the fledgling, Arthur spoke the companion
incantation to that which he had uttered at the bar.  He then settled back
into the couch to wait for the police to arrive at the scene of the carnage
so he could watch and assess them through the eyes of a dead man.

   Chapter 14

   Tom pushed his shaking, rattling car to the limit, trying to get to
Sam's Tavern as quickly as possible.  When he arrived at the scene, he
found that the area had already been cordoned off by a number of black and
whites, their red and blue lights reflecting off the nearby buildings,
alternately creating and destroying monstrous shadows.  Tom wryly noticed
that, despite the late hour, a small crowd of onlookers had already begun
to gather outside the yellow tape.

   As Tom exited the vehicle, the officer in charge of the scene rushed up
to him, his relief at being able to pass off responsibility to another
clearly evident.  The OIC quickly briefed Tom on the situation,
"Lieutenant, glad you're here.  We have the block secured and eyes on every
exit, but, as per your orders, no one has gone inside.  We got the call
from a man who was out for a late night walk and saw blood seeping out from
under the door.  We have him over in one of the cars if you need to speak
with him.  We tried calling the bar's number, but there was no answer.  I
have a sniper and spotter on standby, but haven't deployed them as the
bar's windows are too filthy to see through.  Every man I have available
from Zone Two is here, though we still have a few off covering for the, uh,
losses in Zone Four."

   Tom replied, "You've done a good job, officer.  Could you do me a favor
and secure and cordon off an additional block in each direction?  We really
don't want the press to be able to get any good pictures of the task force
we'll be using.  Also, as my task force arrives, please send them over to
me."

   The OIC nodded and replied, "You got it, Lieutenant." He then moved off
to shout orders at his men.  The small crowd was quickly pushed back as a
new line was formed, much thinner than the original but much farther away
from the bar.

   Mark and the other task force members arrived over the course of the
next ten minutes.  Tom quickly passed out sharpened dowels to Mark and
eight of the men while retaining one for himself.  He then divided the
nineteen task force members into two spear teams of four each, headed by
Mark and himself.  The other eleven, including his eight experienced
bowman, were divided up into two fire support teams of five each, with the
most experienced archer commanding both.

   Once they were prepared, Mark asked, "What if this isn't our boy's work
and there's a guy with a gun in there?  This is known as a rough place, you
know."

   Tom pondered this for a moment before answering, "If the blood was from
a bar fight, the bartender or another patron surely would have called us.
If someone, or a lot of someones, had been shot, there would have been
calls reporting gunfire; this isn't exactly a secluded area.  The parking
lot is nearly full but there have been no signs of activity.  That means
that there are a lot of people still in there and they're not making any
attempt to leave even though the bar was due to close for the night more
than an hour ago.  So either they're all dead or badly injured or they have
been taken hostage.  Were this a hostage situation, the hostage takers
would have answered the phone to give their demands when the OIC called.  I
don't think this could be anything but our boy."

   Tom called the OIC back over, the young officer looking askance at the
team's choice of weaponry.  Tom told him, "We're going to move in.  Could
you have one of your men bring over a hydraulic door ram and standby in
case the place is locked up?"

   After the OIC had nodded and moved off to make the appropriate
arrangements, Tom turned to his task force.  "Ok, here's the plan.  My
spear team will go in first by twos." Gesturing to one of his spear team
members at random, Tom continued, "You and I will be the first ones in. 
Mark's team will follow immediately.  Once the entrance is secured, the
fire support teams will move in to cover us.  We will then move as a unit
to secure the rest of the building.  Any questions?" There were none.

   The task force moved toward the entrance of the bar, the bowmen staying
around ten yards behind the spearmen.  As they drew near, Tom noticed that
there were a number of bloody footprints exiting the bar heading south
across the sidewalk, but they were only barely discernable outside the door
and quickly faded to nothing before they even reached the street.  Tom
pointed out the prints to the others in his team so that they could avoid
stepping on what might be critical evidence, but cautioned them that the
prints did not mean that there weren't still more hostiles inside.

   Once at the door, Tom tried it and found it unlocked.  Waving off the
officer with the door ram, Tom threw the door open and he and his partner
jumped in, spears at ready.  A figure loomed in the darkness and Tom's
partner lunged, his spear sinking into the figure with a meaty thud.  Even
as this occurred, the other spear team members completed their entrance and
someone turned on the lights.

   Tom could hear one of his team being noisily sick behind him.  The
entire bar area was in shambles.  Shattered remnants of chairs, stools and
tables lay willy nilly throughout the room.  The entire floor was heavily
coated in a layer of thickly congealed blood and it appeared that more had
been sprayed, as if from a hose, over several places on the walls.  Four
bodies were scattered around the room while another had been nailed to the
bar with a variety of switchblades and buck knives, its head fixed in place
so that it seemed to stare toward the door.  This last body also now
sported a thick wooden dowel rod protruding from its chest.  With an
embarrassed shrug, Tom's entry partner pulled the makeshift spear free.

   As the fire support teams moved into position, Tom assessed his task
force; although all of them appeared pale and drawn, they also looked
resolute and had their weapons at ready.  With hand motions he directed
them through the bar until they had secured the tap room, storage room and
small, long unused kitchen.  Once the sweep was complete, there was a
collective exhalation as pent up tension flowed from them all.

   Tom directed the team to follow him back outside and, once there, he
called the OIC back over.  "The place is clear.  Call in CSI and tell the
coroner's office that we have five stiffs, one of which will take some work
to remove.  Also, run checks on the vehicles in the parking lot and get us
some names and addresses.  Finally, contact the bar's owner and find out
who was bartending and check that name against the list of vehicle owners
and stiffs."

   Once the OIC had again nodded and moved off, Tom turned to face his task
force.  "Ok.  I think that went pretty well.  Everyone responded quickly to
the call.  We worked as a unit and everyone kept their cool despite the
nature of the environment that we entered.  Anyone have any suggestions for
improvement?"

   One of the spearmen on Mark's team cleared his throat, "What about
having the, uh, spear teams carry two different lengths of spears, this one
and another twice as long?  That way when we're in tight places, like that
doorway, the second rank would be able to bring their spears to bear to
support the front rank."

   Tom nodded thoughtfully, "That's a good idea.  It would be too
cumbersome for everyone to carry both lengths all the time, but we could
have both sets available and choose accordingly based on the situation. 
I'll get on it."

   Another officer raised his hand and, at Tom's nod, said, "Do you think
we could get a SWAT designation, Lieutenant?  These are certainly 'special'
weapons." The nervous laughter that broke out among the task force helped
ease the tension further.

   Any response that Tom might have made was drowned out by the blare of
approaching sirens; CSI and the coroner's vans had arrived.  Tom dismissed
the team and he and Mark moved to watch the newcomers at work.

   Within moments of entering, one of the deputy coroners rushed back out
and clung to the back of his van as he threw up into the street.  As Tom
averted his gaze, he noticed that the back of the van was windowless. 
Moving to peer into the driver's side window, he saw that there was a solid
partition separating the passenger compartment from the rear.  An idea
struck him which suddenly seemed so obvious he couldn't believe that he
hadn't thought of it before.

   Tom turned to the recovering coroner, "Hey, can I borrow your van for
about two hours?"

   Nonplussed, the man replied, "I don't know, Lieutenant, I would have to
get that cleared from..."

   "I think I know a way to get the guy responsible for what happened in
the bar, but I need that van," Tom interrupted.

   "Keys are in it."

   Tom turned to Mark, "I'm going to need you to drive, Mark.  My place
first.  Go as fast as you can."

   Mark gave him a curious look, but only said, "You got it, boss."

   Tom crawled into the back of the van, ignoring the smell of death and
its unpleasant consequences.  He carefully examined the interior, checking
for any signs of pinholes capable of admitting light.  So intent was he on
this exercise that he almost fell over when Mark quickly accelerated the
van away from the scene of Arthur's crime.

   Once they had arrived back at Tom's apartment building, Tom sprinted up
the steps to his apartment.  When he burst into the room, Mia was already
moving towards him, her face relaxing in relief upon seeing that he was
still alive and unharmed.

   Tom took her into his arms, but before she could speak, he said, "I have
an idea to locate Arthur.  Would you come with us?"

   Mia looked dubious, "Sunrise is..."

   Tom interrupted, "We've got that covered." His voice softened, "Trust
me, I would never let you come to harm."

   Mia gave him a warm smile and nodded, "Okay."

   Tom ran to his desk and rooted around in the drawers until he found a
handheld GPS and a compass left over from when he was an Eagle Scout.  He
then did a quick google search to find out the precise time that the sun
would rise.

   Mia effortlessly kept pace with him as he ran back to the van and
together they crawled into the back, Mia wrinkling her nose slightly at the
smell.

   Once inside, Tom said, "I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but where is Arthur
now?"

   Without hesitation, Mia pointed.  Tom checked his compass and found that
Arthur was almost due south.  After jotting down the exact bearing in a
notepad, Tom pounded on the partition and yelled for Mark to travel due
west as quickly as possible.  While the van bounced and jittered from the
high speed impacts with potholes, Tom dug around in the van's rear
compartments until he located the supply of body bags.

   As he spread one out on the floor, he looked apologetically at Mia, "I
really hate to ask you to do this, but it's the only way to make sure
you're safe."

   Mia smiled at him and climbed into the bag until only her head and
shoulders were sticking out.  "I think I know what you're up to, and this
is no problem at all."

   Hesitantly Mia asked, "How bad was it at the bar?"

   "Very bad," Tom replied.

   "Would you like me to take a look to see if I can figure out what he was
doing there?" Mia asked.

   Tom knew what she meant.  After giving her a brief nod, he concentrated
on recalling every last detail from the time his team had started to move
toward the bar until the time they left.

   Mia gasped in shock at the gory images that she caught from Tom's mind.
After he had finished mentally running through the events, Mia whispered,
"There is really only one explanation for the footprints leading from the
door and the bar being covered in more blood than the bodies that were
found could possibly hold: Arthur has made new fledglings.  It's impossible
to tell if they are of the sentient type or ferals, but you can be almost
certain that nearly every person who was in that bar who is unaccounted for
is now a vampire."

   "What do you mean by 'nearly every person?'" Tom asked.

   "Sentient fledglings need to feed shortly after they rise for the first
time, or there is a possibility that they will go mad from hunger and
revert to a feral state.  At least that is what Arthur taught me.  So, if
he made true fledglings, it is possible that he took some of those people
from the bar with him alive, with the intention of feeding them to the
newly risen."

   This grim possibility silenced both of them for the remainder of the
ride.

   As they traveled, Tom checked his watch with ever increasing frequency.
At two minutes before dawn, he pounded on the partition and told Mark to
stop.

   He turned to Mia expectantly and she pointed to the southeast.  Even as
Tom was writing down the bearing and checking the GPS to get a precise fix
on their current location, a troubled look came over Mia's face and she
said, "Something's not..."

   The sun peaked over the horizon and Mia fell lifeless to the floor.

   Chapter 15

   Arthur rose from the couch with a troubled look of his own.  He had
known that the police, and the rest of the city, would eventually accept
what it was that they faced; that was, after all, the entire point of this
exercise.  He had not, however, expected that this would occur quite so
quickly.  In his experience, mortals were extremely reluctant to
acknowledge the existence of vampires in their midst.

   Arthur recalled that he had one more errand to run before his rapidly
approaching dormancy, an errand that he'd had to postpone while he had the
ferals in tow and Alicia over his shoulder.  Moving to the front door, he
extended his senses to make certain there were no witnesses and slipped
outside.

   Arthur gazed along the row of neat, well maintained homes.  Any of the
occupants would do for what he had in mind, but, in the common vernacular
of this age, you don't shit where you eat.  Another disappearance could
well focus attention on this place and he was already pressing his luck. 
It had been less than three full nights since he had so rudely intruded on
the Bollingers and already neighbors were coming around, wondering why
Jimmy's wife had missed the weekly meeting of her card club or why she
wasn't returning calls.  That was the problem with fairly affluent areas,
Arthur decided, too much of a sense of community.

   He began to run to the east, passing like a fleeting shadow among the
darkened homes.  He had hated being forced to hold back while guiding the
ferals to this place; the sluggish pace that they could maintain had made
him feel vulnerable and weak.  To make up for it, he pushed himself to his
limit now, quickly passing through the outskirts of Pleasant Hills and
skirting swiftly around the edge of a large mall.

   As he ran, Arthur mulled over the events of the evening.  It suddenly
occurred to him that while the police had been armed with wooden weapons,
weapons that could hurt him, they had not been encumbered by the usual
impotent trappings of self-styled vampire hunters.  There had been no
crosses, no sun lamps, no fool with a squirt gun filled with holy water. 
As he considered this, Arthur realized something else: after resonating
with utterly disgusting emotions for hours, Mia's bond had suddenly flashed
with fear, and not for herself, shortly before the police had made their
entrance.  That fear had remained until a short time after the dangerously
armed force had left the bar, at which point the bond had flooded with
feelings of relief.

   While Arthur had learned centuries before that correlation is not the
same as causation, the possibilities raised by this particular correlation
were far too dangerous to ignore.  The bond had made it obvious that Mia
had taken up with a mortal lover, but it had not occurred to Arthur that
her lover might not only be with the police but a part of the team hunting
him.  This changed everything.  With Mia's assistance, the police could
locate his lair; perhaps they already had.  He would need to abandon the
Bollinger home as soon as possible.  It was fortunate, he thought, that he
had prepared his sheet anchor within a week of his arrival in the city,
purchasing several homes in disparate parts of the city and renting a
number of storage units and basement apartments.  He did not believe that
Mia was aware of any of them.

   He would also need to alter his other plans dramatically.  First and
foremost, Mia would need to be destroyed sooner rather than later.  The
only problem being that, if she were working with the police, there would
likely be a trap waiting when he moved to eliminate her.  Reviewing the
knowledge that Lei had given him, Arthur realized that there was a single
elegant solution to all of his problems.  He hated risking his ferals so
soon, but there were always more to be had.  He was also reluctant to take
a chance of granting Jimmy's wish before the fledgling had even begun to
suffer, but perhaps Alicia would prove as entertaining.  The best part of
his nascent plan, he decided, was that it didn't matter whether his new
strategy was completely successful.  Even if it failed entirely, he would
survive.  Then, after his enemies had grown complacent in their arrogance
over the supposed victory, he would reappear from the shadows to spur their
terror to even greater heights.  On the other hand, if he were victorious,
his only real opposition would be destroyed and fear would rule the city
within days.

   Thus decided, Arthur returned his thoughts to the task at hand.  As he
rounded the county airport, his extended senses found the perfect target of
opportunity: a lone man was standing,
bored and inattentive, at a nearby bus stop.  Moving swiftly and

silently, Arthur was upon the man in an instant, striking him brutally in
the temple before the man had even registered Arthur's presence.  Catching
the unconscious man before he could hit the ground, Arthur settled the limp
form across his shoulders and turned to make the return journey. 
Fledglings need to feed soon after they rise for the first time and a good
Master always provides for his flock.

   By the time Arthur made it back to his temporary lair, the sky was
already beginning to lighten with the coming dawn.  He would need to act
quickly if he were going to set his revised plan in motion.  After again
ensuring that there were no witnesses, Arthur entered the home and quickly
trussed and gagged his captive in what had been Jimmy's home office. 
Rushing to the basement, he found James leaning against a stack of boxes,
tears still running down his face.

   "Oh, stop your bawling," Arthur commanded irritably.  While existing
tears continued to trickle down James' face, no new ones appeared in his
eyes.

   Arthur leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of James' head
before again making use of Lei's gift.  When he had finished his chant,
Arthur staggered backwards, shaken by the sudden aching void within him. 
That which had been a part of him for well over a century was irrevocably
gone, and he felt unexpected sorrow at the loss.  Before he could examine
this emotion, the sun rose and with it came oblivion.



   Chapter 16

   After Tom and Mark had returned Mia to Tom's apartment, Mark running
interference to insure that no one saw Tom carrying a full body bag into
his home, they drove to the station to develop their new information.

   Fortified with the station's vile coffee, they laid out a map and
protractor on Tom's desk.  After a few minutes of bickering over the proper
method to do so, they placed their baseline coordinates and used the
compass bearings from Tom's notebook to draw lines from each coordinate to
the edge of the map.  Both men stared at the point at which the lines
intersected.

   Tom sighed in frustration as he leaned back from the table, "That can't
be right.  Why would he be smack dab in the middle of nowhere thirty miles
south of the city?  We must have fucked this up somehow."

   They quickly repeated the work with identical results.

   "Well, shit," Tom said, "we're going to need another bearing.  This
really can't be right."

   Mark grunted in agreement before saying, "Still, it can't hurt to check
it out.  I'll call the location over to the chief of police of the town of
Elizabeth and ask him if he can send someone to take a look."

   "Okay, Mark.  While you're doing that, I'm going to go prepare our
ambush at the Old County Jail.  I don't know that it'll be necessary
anymore, but..."

   "Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it," Mark
finished for him, before adding, "I'll swing by maintenance and grab some
chains, too."

   "Sounds good.  See you later."

   The Old County Jail, which had been diverted from its original purpose
years before and turned into a warren of courtrooms and administrative
offices, was a massive granite fortress that sat within sight of the
Monongahela River.  Tom had chosen this place as the site of the ambush as
most of the building was surrounded by a thick stone wall and, even where
it was not, the first floor windows were far to narrow to admit a man.  The
building only had two first floor entrances, each capable of being sealed
by gates of strong steel bars.  One of those entrances breached the thick
stone walls of the building directly below an enclosed, arched stone bridge
with high, narrow windows that connected the building to the courthouse
proper across the street.  Passing through this doorway, Tom entered a
narrow hallway that ran roughly fifty feet before opening up into a large
room that had once been used to process incoming prisoners.  Standing in
the middle of the high ceilinged room, Tom looked it over carefully before
deciding that it was perfect.

   Making the preparations took a good bit longer than Tom had hoped; it
took several calls from the chief before the frantic building administrator
allowed Tom to commandeer the maintenance personnel and use them to clear
the room of its clutter of desks, computers and other office furniture.  It
had then taken Mark's arrival and expert bullying before the administrator
permitted Tom to have a huge wooden chair, specially commissioned by an
especially corpulent former judge, carried to the room and bolted securely
to the floor adjacent to the wall opposite the entrance hallway.  When they
told the distraught functionary what they planned on doing to the water
reservoir for the sprinkler system, the man had thrown his hands up in the
air in disgust and stalked off.

   Once the chair was in place, Tom called the members of his task force
and had them assemble in the large room.  The group then spent several more
hours perfecting the tactics they would use should the ambush take place.

   Tom closed the training by briefly addressing the group, "I know it's
not easy accepting the nature of our adversary.  His very existence goes
against everything we thought we knew about this world and our place in it.
But he does exist and, for so long as he continues to do so, he poses a
threat to every last living man, woman and child.  We have each taken an
oath to protect those people and, by your presence here, I know you take
that oath seriously.  This is not going to be an easy fight; some of us
probably aren't going to make it.  But I have every confidence that in the
end, thanks to your courage, dedication and strength, you will be able to
look into a mirror and know that you prevented thousands of murders in the
future and avenged thousands more from the past.  Dismissed."

   After the sober faced men and women had filed out of the room to return
to their regular duties, Mark walked up to Tom with a grin, "Real
inspirational, boss.  Should you manage to outlive me, please turn down any
requests to speak at my funeral; my family will be traumatized enough by
the event without you adding to it with shitty rhetoric."

   With a shrug of his shoulders, Tom replied lightly, "Bah.  Your mom
never complains about my oral skills."

   Mark shook his head in mock sorrow, "Ha.  Funny."

   Leaving the jail, Tom and Mark drove to the strip district and purchased
several garlic presses, several mesh bags and every last whole clove of
garlic that they could lay their hands on.  A half hour later, they were
sitting by Tom's desk crushing garlic cloves into a bucket when an officer
from CSI approached.

   "I have the preliminary results of the investigation of last night's
incident, Lieutenant," said the officer as he approached Tom's desk with a
thick folder.

   Tom replied, "Can you give us a quick summary?"

   "Sure.  From the amount of blood present at the scene and the degree to
which the bodies that were recovered were drained, we estimate that between
twelve and twenty people were completely bled out.  We're running blood
tests now to see if we can get a more accurate count.  Running the plates
of the cars in the parking lot produced the names of fifteen men, including
those of all five of the bodies recovered.  We have a shit load of
fingerprints, but, given the public nature of the place, I doubt that will
lead anywhere.  We also found out that the bartender on duty was one Alicia
George of East Liberty.  We contacted her husband, but he said that they
have been separated for months and he hasn't seen her in weeks.  We also
took a K9 tracking unit down to the scene to see if the dog could follow
the scent of those tracks that led from the bar.  The dog took one whiff
and tucked its tail between its legs."

   The officer shifted around nervously for a moment before adding, "One of
the bodies we brought back has a, uh, unique dental abnormality consistent
with what you and the sergeant here have been telling us for the past few
days.  So, it's really true then?  There are real honest-to-God vampires in
the city?"

   Tom and Mark both answered with a nod.

   After the shaken CSI officer had left, Tom turned to the mountain of
paperwork that still needed to be completed regarding the failed raid. 
Mark chuckled slightly at Tom's sigh of despair and returned to crushing
garlic.  They had only been at these tasks for a few minutes when another
officer approached.

   This officer gestured slightly at Tom and said, "Chief wants to see you,
Lieutenant."

   Chief Dennis Jacobs was a huge figure of a man.  Although not quite as
tall as Tom, he was more than half again as wide.  Despite being in his
late fifties, only a little of that girth was fat.  He had a thick
square-jawed head topped with low cropped hair that was a solid iron grey
in color.  All in all he had the stereotypical look of the ideal policeman:
incorruptible, solid, dependable and tough.

   When Tom entered his office, the Chief looked up from the report he was
reading, "Close the door and have a seat, Tom." After Tom had complied, the
Chief continued, "Look Tom, I understand that murders aren't solved in a
day, a week, or, sometimes, even a year.  But, given the nature of our
killer, this one needs to be resolved a lot more quickly than any other. 
I've been getting nightmares from the thought of the panic that would erupt
in this city if the people knew that there was a real fucking vampire in
their midst.  So, let me hear the plan that will get rid of my nightmares
and let me get back to dreaming of nothing but rainbows and tits."

   Tom quickly outlined his plans, both the one involving using Mia to
triangulate Arthur's position and the one using her as bait for an ambush.

   As Tom finished up, the Chief nodded slowly, "Not bad.  Better than I
had hoped.  But it does bring to mind another question: Why in the hell do
you have one of those monsters living in your apartment?"

   "Mia's not a monster, Chief.  She's...," Tom began.

   "Don't give that bullshit, Tom," the Chief interrupted.  "I've read the
files.  She is implicated, strongly implicated, in at least two murders
and, given what she is, I have little doubt that she's actually committed
hundreds if not thousands more."

   "And what do you suggest we do about that, Chief?" Tom replied angrily.
"Even if she's not human now, and I would argue that she is in all the ways
that matter most, she was human at one time.  Does that give her a right to
a trial?  If so, do murder laws apply when the killing was performed to
obtain necessary sustenance?  Assuming that she does go to trial and is
found guilty, what do we do then?  Throw her in jail?  Even if we could
make modifications to a cell that would hold her in the long term, how do
you think the other prisoners will react when they find out what she is? 
How do you think the press will react when they find out that we have a
vampire in captivity?  Or perhaps you were thinking of capital punishment?
I doubt that the electric chair or the gas chamber would have much of an
effect on her and, last I checked, pounding a stake through a prisoner's
heart isn't a legally accepted means of carrying out the death penalty in
this state.

   "Not to mention the fact that, without her help, we would have no hope -
none - of putting an end to the truly dangerous monster that killed maybe
twenty people just last night and killed more than thirty of our own the
night before that.  Mark and I are working on a way to supply Mia with
animals to feed on and she's perfectly willing to give our idea a shot.  If
it works out, I know her well enough to be able to guarantee that she will
no longer be a danger to anyone.

   "I guess it all boils down to one thing.  Tell me, Denny: Could you live
with yourself if you repaid the person who was instrumental in saving our
city, perhaps even our country, from the biggest threat it has ever faced
with eternal imprisonment or summary execution?"

   The Chief cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Wouldn't the arguments you just
made concerning the right to a trial and the dubious application of the law
also apply to our killer?"

   Tom replied, "Probably, but, from all Mia has told me, I don't think any
of those issues will arise with him.  Mainly because there's no way we're
going to manage to take him alive, err undead.  Whatever.  You know what I
mean."

   The Chief sat silently for a long moment before saying, "Tom, first let
me say that I think that pretty much everything you just said is a load of
shit.  These are monsters who feed on people.  The logical and responsible
solution isn't a trial or any of that kind of happy horse shit, but
immediate eradication.  But, just for the sake of argument, what do you
propose that we do with Mia?"

   Tom replied, "I may be biased, but I think we should let her go. 
Justify it as a pardon in exchange for services rendered."

   Again the Chief was silent for a long time.  Finally, he nodded his head
slowly and, with a sigh, said, "We'll do it your way on two conditions. 
First, I want proof that she can and will live on animals.  Second, I want
the other one, this Arthur or whatever his name is, destroyed without
question.  I'm sorry, Tom, but if the first of those conditions isn't met,
I will have to order her destruction as well."

   Tom nodded grimly, "Understood, Chief."



   Chapter 17



   Alicia awoke to find herself lying naked on a cement floor.  For a
moment, she struggled to recall what had happened the previous night but
failed; finally deciding that someone must have slipped her one hell of a
mickey.  She rose smoothly to her knees and then stood, marveling at the
fact that, despite her odd sleeping arrangements, all of the aches and
pains that she had accumulated over her forty years did not trouble her in
the slightest.

   Peering about curiously, she determined that she was in a large basement
shaped like a "U" with the center being partially taken up by a small
bathroom.  Alicia heard movement in the other arm of the "U", but decided
that her full bladder had a higher priority than meeting whoever it was
that had brought her here.

   Even as she walked towards the bathroom door, she wondered at her lack
of fear.  As she considered this, she realized that there were a number of
things that were glaringly wrong with the situation, even beyond the
obvious fact that she was naked in an unknown basement: What was that knot
of emotion, of cold, hard resolve, that she could feel in her mind but
which didn't seem to truly be a part of her?; What was that odd, coppery
taste in her mouth that made part of her want to be violently ill but made
another, larger, part of her hunger?; and, Why did she feel no chill even
though she could tell that the cement floor was freezing cold?

   As she walked past the bathroom mirror, she caught a sight in her
peripheral vision that made her stop and do a double take.  With eyes
widening in confusion and wonder, she leaned closer to the mirror.  The
face that looked back at her was her's, but as it was twenty years before.
In disbelief, she brought her hands to her face; her skin, while pale and
rather cool to the touch, was soft, smooth and completely unmarred by any
blemish, wrinkle or line.  Stepping back slightly, she saw that her breasts
stood high and firm, with no sign of the sag that had been developing over
the past fifteen years.  She traced a finger down across her stomach and
was astonished to find that the stretch marks that had been present since
she was fourteen were completely gone, leaving only smooth, taut skin.

   Grinning in delight, she spun, stood on her tiptoes and peered over her
shoulder.  Her ass was round and tight with no trace of the cellulite
dimples that she knew were present just the day before.  Her survey of the
changes that had occurred to her body, seemingly by magic, was interrupted
by her bladder again making its urgent need known to her.  As she sat on
the toilet, she could feel a change in that knot of emotion in the corner
of her mind; a sense of growing nearness.

   The cold resolve of that knot became tinged with amusement and she heard
a voice speak calmly from the doorway, "That is the last time that you will
ever have to do that, Alicia."

   The sound of that voice caused the memories of the previous night to
resurface and crash around her in waves of pain and fear and humiliation.
She began to cower away from the dark figure in the doorway, but then
forced herself to straighten and, pushing her fear aside, asked quietly,
"Did you do this to me?"

   "Yes," the voice answered simply.

   Alicia was quiet for a moment, the memories of the pain that this man
had forced her to endure warring with the joy she felt over the changes
that he had wrought in her body.  Finally, she replied quietly, "Thank
you."

   She felt the amusement grow in that knot of emotion inside her mind. 
With a slightly mocking laugh, the man answered, "You are welcome, Alicia.
I know you must be hungry.  I will take my leave of you so that you may
clean yourself.  When you are ready to eat, you will know how to find me."

   As the man turned to leave, Alicia called out, "Wait!  Who are you?"

   Turning slightly back toward her, the man answered, "My name is Arthur.
You may call me, 'Master.'"

   A protest began to rise to her lips but died before it was even half
formed.  With a nod she said, "Yes, Master."

   As her Master again turned to leave, Alicia called out again, "Master?"

   "Yes, Alicia?"

   Alicia was silent for a moment, unable to put words to the question to
which she must know the answer.  At last she fumbled out, "What are you,
Master?"

   The amusement in the knot of emotions grew even further as her Master
laughed at her.  "When you are finished with what you are doing, return to
the mirror and bare your teeth.  I believe that will answer the question of
what I am, of what we are."

   Confused, Alicia remained silent as she felt a growing sense of distance
in the knot of emotions.  She suddenly realized that, although her Master
was out of her sight, she could point directly to him using that knot of
emotions; the knot that could only be her Master.

   When her bladder was finally empty, Alicia stood and moved to again face
the mirror.  Timidly, she leaned forward and pulled her lips back, but
could see no difference in her teeth from the way they were before.  Still
looking into the mirror, she opened her mouth.  When it was fully open, her
canines slid downwards, extending into three inch long fangs.  She fell
backwards with a cry, suddenly recalling fangs, nearly identical to the
ones in her mouth, being revealed by a smile, sinking into her breast, and
biting into her throat.

   For a long while, Alicia sat huddled on the floor, her knees clasped
tightly to her chest, her mind in turmoil.  "There are no such things as
vampires; they do not, they can not, exist!" she whispered to herself over
and over again.  But the evidence was undeniable.  She looked down her body
while considering the benefits of what she had become.  Finally, her mind
again calm, Alicia rose smoothly to her feet and turned toward the shower.
Her Master wanted her clean.

   Fifteen minutes later, Alicia, still nude and now dripping from her
ablutions, ventured back out into the basement proper.  Walking around the
bottom of the "U" she found the stairs leading up into the house, noting
that whatever had made the noises that she had heard earlier was now gone.

   Emerging from the basement, Alicia followed the knot in her mind, and
turned right into a hallway.  After just a few steps, she found her Master
talking with two heavily armed men in a well appointed living room.  She
could not only see the men's eyes widen as they took in the sight of her
but could hear their hearts begin to beat faster in their chests.  She
could even smell their lust.  Her nipples tingled and thickened under the
weight of their approving gaze.

   Her Master glanced at her with an eyebrow raised in amusement.  "Come,
child," he told her, "It is time for you to feed."

   As she followed her Master across the room, she added an extra swing to
her hips, laughing quietly as she heard the men's hearts beat even faster.
Her Master led her down another hallway and through a door.  Inside the
room, a man knelt on his knees.  His hands and feet were tied; his mouth
gagged.  He stared up at Alicia and her Master with eyes that were wide and
fearful, and Alicia heard his breath quicken and become shallow as his
heart began to race.

   The room was filled with the most deliciously wonderful aroma that
Alicia had ever experienced.  Eyes closed in sensory euphoria, she wove her
head from side to side trying to home in on the source of the incredible
smell.  Following the strongest concentrations of the scent, Alicia moved
slowly into the room.  She leaned forward and realized that the scent was
stronger closer to the floor.  She dropped to her hands and knees and
continued to slowly crawl forward until her hands encountered an obstacle.
She opened her eyes and saw that it was the bound man.  His eyes had opened
even wider, nearly bugging out of his head, and, even through the gag, she
could hear his muffled screams.

   She suddenly knew that the man was the source of the heavenly aroma. 
Effortlessly, she threw him onto his back, and dropped her head to his
stomach.  Inhaling deeply she slid the side of her face up the man's
stomach and chest; her nipples became painfully erect as they rubbed
against the rough fabric of his shirt.  Soon she was straddling him, her
head even with his throat.  Breathing heavily, she nuzzled her nose into
the side of his neck while she twined her arms around his shoulders in a
tight embrace.  She could tell from the man's frantic struggles that their
combined weight was hurting the hands which were trapped behind his back,
but she didn't care.

   From behind her, Alicia heard her Master whisper, "You are smelling his
fear, Alicia."

   The scent was even stronger along the prisoner's throat and the line of
his jaw.  Pulling herself ever more closely against him, she extended her
tongue and ran it over the taut muscles of his neck.  The taste of his
sweat brought a moan from her lips; it was everything the scent had
promised and more.  Alicia reared forward so she could lick at his face and
ears.  As she did so, her clit rubbed against his lower stomach, sending an
almost electrical jolt through her body.  She could feel her cunt moisten.
Even as she continued to run her tongue up and down the skin of his face,
she began to hump her hips slowly and sensuously into his stomach.

   Alicia slid the left side of her face up along the right side of his,
rubbed her chin over the crown of his head and then completed the circle by
moving the right side of her face down along his left until her mouth was
again at this throat.  There she traced her tongue over his Adam's apple,
which bobbed and quivered at her touch.  Her tongue slid to the side until
she could feel his rapid pulse.  As she lightly kissed a trail up and down
the artery, she felt a ravenous hunger rising within her and her canines
extended and locked into place.  Yielding to instinct, she bit into his
defenseless throat, and, as his hot, thick blood jetted into her mouth, her
body exploded in orgasm.

   His scent shifted slightly, and she somehow knew that he was climaxing
as well.  Ripping her mouth from his throat, she lifted her chest off of
his and tore away his gag, heedless of the blood that sprayed briefly over
her chin and breasts before his wounds miraculously sealed.  She lunged
forward and pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply and tenderly; her
excitement only heightened when he screamed his terror into her mouth.

   Pulling her lips from his, she stared into his horror struck eyes for a
long moment before she again went for his throat, this time sucking
hungrily until his body went limp and lifeless beneath her.

   As Arthur watched his newest fledgling feed, he idly wondered how this
one would respond to the act.  Mia and her predecessors had withdrawn into
themselves for days, overwhelmed by the horror and guilt of killing a human
being for food.  James had, of course, curled into a weeping, sniveling
ball, but, in all fairness, his first meal had been his loving wife.

   Alicia lifted herself from the lifeless form of the captive and turned
to stare at Arthur with wild eyes; the emotions that fed back to him
through the bond were far too chaotic to read.  "Is it always like this?"
she whispered.

   Arthur replied, "Yes, feeding and sexual response are closely connected,
for both us and our food."

   Arthur sighed with disappointment when she charged at him; he'd had high
hopes for this one.  He could stop her with a single command, of course,
but, if she were going to reject the gift to the point of violence, it
would probably be best for her to die now.  The last thing he needed was
another rebellious fledgling.  So, he stood and watched calmly as she
rapidly closed the gap between them, waiting for her to drop lifelessly to
the floor next to her prey at the culmination of her attack.

   But she didn't die.  Arthur was too surprised to react as she hurled him
to the floor and squatted over him.  He felt her fumble with his belt and
then with his zipper before she reached into his pants to fish out his
cock; stroking it rapidly until it stood erect.  Arthur stared up at her in
shock as she mounted him, taking him fully inside her dripping wet cunt in
one violent plunge.  She began to raise and lower herself on him with
increasing rapidity until her hips were a blur of sensuous motion.  The
room was filled with the susurrus of the soft skin of her thighs rubbing
against the silk of his suit and the staccato rhythm of the cheeks of her
ass slapping violently into his upper thighs.

   After riding Arthur hard for several minutes, Alicia abruptly dropped
down onto his chest and pressed her lips hard against his.  Then, just as
suddenly, she broke the kiss and reared upwards, her canines extending to
their fullest length.  Pain lanced through Arthur as Alicia's fangs sank
into his shoulder, her tongue lapping at the fluids that oozed from the
wound.  As Arthur felt himself begin to climax in response to her bite, he
twisted his head and sank his own fangs into the soft skin of her neck. 
Their bodies twitched and spasmed and moans exploded loudly and
continuously from their throats as the orgasmic power of the vampire's bite
fed back on itself in a closed loop.

   After an eternal moment, they disengaged their fangs almost
simultaneously; the sensation had simply become too great.  For several
more minutes, they laid limp and panting on the floor.  The moment was
finally broken when Alicia nipped lightly at Arthur's ear and whispered,
"Thank you," over and over again.  Then, without prompting, she rotated her
body around so that she could take his softening member into her mouth,
cleaning it of their combined fluids.

   Arthur rose shakily to his feet and pulled Alicia up to stand before
him. While quickly returning his clothing to order, he told her, "I fear
this place has been compromised.  You will find a dress in the room where I
was speaking with the two men.  Put it on and they will take you to a safe
house.  I will meet you there later tonight."

   Alicia responded as her bond required, "Yes, Master."

   Arthur exited the house into the garage where he met up with his waiting
minions.  As the garage door opened, Arthur's expanded senses detected a
police officer watching the house intently from an unmarked car.  Even as
the policeman lifted the mic of his radio to his lips, Arthur reached out
with his will and burned away the man's memory of the preceding week.  The
policeman looked around in dazed confusion, barely noticing Arthur
strolling casually toward him with a friendly smile on his face.

   When Arthur reached the unmarked car, he punched forward as his
fingernails lengthened and grew sharp.  His fist passed through the
hardened windshield as easily as his claws passed through the skin,
cartilage and muscle of the policeman's throat.

   Pulling his hand free, Arthur called his minions to him and led them out
into the night.



   Chapter 18



   Mia awoke to find Tom lying stretched out on the bed next to her.  A
gentle smile appeared on his face as he watched her eyes open.  She rolled
over into his embrace, bringing her lips to his.

   As their lips parted, he smiled again and whispered, "Good morning."

   Mia returned his smile and, pointing slightly southwest with a wince of
pain, said, "Before you ask, Arthur's that way."

   With an apologetic shrug, Tom grabbed his compass from the night stand
and quickly wrote down the bearing.  He then leaned in for another kiss
before saying, "Mia, I don't have much time.  We're going for Arthur
tonight and I need to get this information to the station so we can get a
warrant.  Mark's out in the living room and, although he doesn't know it
yet, he's going to stay here with you.  If you feel Arthur move at all, let
Mark know."

   Mia looked at Tom, aghast, "You're going after Arthur at night?!"

   Tom nodded grimly, "Yes.  The Chief wants this situation resolved and,
even if he didn't, we can't in good conscience give Arthur the chance at
another killing spree like he had last night."

   Tom's eyes focused on a distant point for a moment before returning to
Mia's.  With a nervous smile he told her, "I know we haven't known each
other for very long, especially from your perspective, but before I go I
want you to know that I love you."

   A smile spreading across her face, Mia pulled Tom back into her embrace
and kissed him softly before replying, "I love you, too.  Be careful and
come back to me." She chewed on her lip for a moment before adding, "Tom, I
don't know what use it will be, but there's something else you should know.
I've told you before that I can feel some of Arthur's emotional state
through the bond.  For as long as I've known him, the primary feeling I get
from him is cold purpose.  Other emotions may flicker fleetingly across the
surface, but the core has always been the same.  This morning, just before
dawn, that core turned into what I can only describe as suicidal
depression. Tonight some of the resolve is back, as well as some
excitement, but the primary feeling I get is still depression."

   Tom pursed his lips in thought, "What do you think it means?"

   Mia shrugged helplessly, "He came here looking for something.  Maybe he
found it and it wasn't all that he expected.  I really don't know, though."

   "Well, thanks for the info, it may very well help us tonight during the
fight." Tom twisted around and picked up a bulky package from alongside the
bed before continuing, "In the event that we do end up having to use the
trap, I brought this for you."

   Mia opened the bag and pulled out a police issue hooded rain slicker,
long kitchen gloves, plastic rain pants and rubber boots.  She looked over
at Tom with an eyebrow cocked questioningly.

   Tom laughed at her expression before explaining, "They'll keep you from
getting a rash.  I'm sorry, Mia, but I need to get going.  Shall we go tell
Mark the bad news?"

   Laughing, they walked hand in hand out to the living room.

   The passage of an hour found Tom pacing restlessly back and forth in
front of the SWAT van that had been assigned to his team.  The new bearing
he had gotten from Mia had crossed one of the lines from that morning over
top of a house in Pleasant Hills belonging to Mr.  and Mrs.  James
Bollinger.  He had immediately dispatched an officer in an unmarked car to
observe the place, but getting a warrant was proving to be far more
difficult than he had hoped.  Even with the Chief calling in favors, not
many magistrates were willing to accept the minimal information that they
had been able to put on the affidavit of probable cause.  After all, they
could hardly state that they had targeted the residence because a fledgling
vampire had pointed in the direction of her Master.  The Chief had also
forbidden Tom from assembling his team at the suspect residence until the
warrant was in hand as the Chief didn't want to give Arthur any advance
warning of the strike or have the battle take place out in the open in
front of witnesses.

   As Tom turned to make yet another pass in front of the van, the call
came from the Chief; they have their warrant.  Within seconds the team was
loaded and the van was underway.  Twenty minutes later they pulled to a
stop in front of the Bollinger residence and the team quickly offloaded and
assembled in the yard.

   Tom peered up and down the street looking for his observer.  Finally
picking out the unmarked car he ran towards it only to stop in horror at
the sight of the broken glass and the officer's torn throat.  Stepping
slowly up to the car while yelling for his radioman to call the incident
in, Tom examined the body more closely.  Blood was still oozing from the
wound and had not yet begun to coagulate; the officer had died only moments
before.

   Tom turned and gave the order to breach.  They cleared the house
quickly, finding only two dead bodies.  One, presumably Mrs.  Bollinger,
was found, bloodless and with a broken neck, crammed inside a freezer in
the basement.  The other, an unknown male, was found in what looked to be
an office.  With the assistance of one of his men, Tom broke the male's
neck as well.

   Tom had his radioman call for the CSI unit while the rest of the team
began a more thorough search of the premises.  He was moving to join them
when his cell phone rang.

   The moment Tom answered, Mark's voice burst from the receiver, "Tom! 
Arthur is on the move..."

   Tom replied, "Yeah, we kinda figured that out.  The house..."

   Mark interrupted, "Mia says that he's coming right for us!"

   "Shit!  Get Mia to the Old Jail.  We'll meet you there."

   "Already on the way, boss.  We decided to wait to call you until Mia
could make certain that Arthur was after her, rather than just moving
towards us by coincidence.  He changed direction to track our movements, so
it's pretty damn certain."

   Tom quickly got his task force back into the van and, with the lights
flashing and the siren blaring, they raced back towards the downtown area.
Under Tom's encouragement, the driver pushed the van to such dangerous
speeds that it tilted up slightly to ride on two tires with each turn. 
While in transit, Tom called the Chief to have him evacuate the jail and
the area around it for several blocks.

   Ten minutes later, the van streaked by the patrol cars and bright yellow
road barricades to come to a squealing stop a short distance from the
chosen entrance to the Old Jail.  Weapons in hand, Tom's task force
deployed into the building at a fast jog.  Mia, encased in the rain gear
Tom had given her, was already secured to the heavy chair; her arms and
legs clamped into leg irons, and her entire body nearly mummified by thick
chains.  As he and his team entered the large room, Tom only had time to
spare Mia one quick, sympathetic glance before Mark came bursting out from
a door that led to the jail's basement.

   "Everything's all set, boss.  The garlic's in the reservoir," Mark
yelled as he ran towards the other members of the team.  While en route, he
paused for a moment to pull the fire alarm.  Immediately water reeking of
garlic burst from the sprinkler system..

   Before the first drop of water could hit the floor, Mia cried out, "He's
here!"

   Tom cursed under his breath; he had sent two of his archers to the
covered bridge that connected the jail with the original courthouse to cut
off any possible escape, but there was no hope of them reaching their
destination for at least a few more minutes.

   Mark's spear team quickly formed a line across the width of the hallway
with Tom's team, equipped with longer spears, falling in behind them.  The
fire support teams bunched together several yards farther back.

   A man in an expensive suit followed closely by a number of men in
tattered and bloody leather appeared at the entrance to the building.  With
impossible speed they rapidly closed in on the police line.  A few of the
intruders sprouted arrows from chests, arms and legs.  Only one fell. 
Halfway down the passage, the man in the suit slowed and allowed his
followers to overtake and pass him.  All of the undead had developed large,
seeping sores and blisters wherever the water had touched them.  The only
one who even appeared to notice was the one that Tom took to be Arthur, and
his response was limited to a pained and angry glance at the sprinklers.

   The intruders hit the thin blue line with a tremendous crash.  Tom
thrust his spear forward at the chest of a huge biker whose eyes were
devoid of anything resembling sanity.  In his peripheral vision he saw
another of the bikers, impaled through the shoulder, push itself forward
with no regard for the spear that drove ever deeper into its flesh until it
could reach the officer holding the dowel.  The officer fell backwards, his
face and chest in ruins.

   The line began to buckle.  As Tom pulled his spear from the chest of his
target, he observed Mark fly through the air, his arms windmilling.  Mark
impacted against the opposite wall with a meaty thud and fell limply to the
floor.  Then Tom was forced to return his attention to the battle as
another vampire in tattered biker regalia tore the throat from one of Tom's
men and turned toward Tom.

   The line collapsed.  As the newest biker came at Tom with an animalistic
growl, Tom heard one of his men scream in agony as two of the ferals, one
at the man's shoulders and the other at his feet, lifted him from the floor
and struggled for control over their prey.  With a crackling of bone and
the wet sound of tearing skin and muscle, the man's legs were pulled from
his body.  Tom drove his improvised spear into the chest of his latest
attacker, but slipped on the blood coating the floor and fell to his knees.
Before he could regain his feet, the vampire in the suit twisted sinuously
by him, penetrating to the center of the room.  He came to a halt directly
in front of Mia.

   Tom heard Mia cry out, "Arthur, don't do this!"

   The target of her plea ignored it and shouted in return, "Mia, I command
you to kill every mortal you can find until you are slain or the sun rises.
You are not to take shelter from the sun."

   In the depths of the hood of her rain coat, Tom could see Mia's face
contort in horror and sorrow.  She pulled violently at the chains holding
her, and Tom could hear the creaking of strained wood.  The creaking became
splintering as the chair sundered.  Mia stood easily despite the more than
five hundred pounds of chains draped across her.  The chains, no longer
anchored by the stout chair, fell from her limbs to pile at her feet.  Her
eyes tightened in concentration and the modified leg irons that bound her
arms slipped loosely from wrists that had shrunk with change.  She looked
down at the leg irons on her ankles and, even over the din of combat, Tom
heard the clicks of locks disengaging.

   Mia's Master, ignoring the arrows that continued to sprout from him,
turned back toward the entrance and began to run, twisting and dodging past
the bowmen who were now fighting a running battle with the ferals.  As he
reached the spot where the spear line once stood, Dana, her neck a bloody
mess and crossbow long gone, pushed herself up from the floor with the
splintered remnants of a spear in her hands.  He twisted to avoid her, but
it was too late.  Dana threw herself forward to put all of her weight
behind the thrust of her spear, and it struck true and deep into the center
of his chest.  He gazed down at the protruding wood with an odd, beatific
smile on his blistered lips before his eyes became fixed and dull.  Slowly
he fell to the floor next to the limp and motionless form of his slayer.

   Across the room, Mia suddenly released the terrified bowman that she
held from the floor by the throat.  Her head snapped around to watch as her
Master fell.  A look of wonder and exultation appeared on her face as the
bonds of compulsion and the knot of emotion that was her Master evaporated
to nothingness.  Glancing quickly around the room she picked out the
densest concentration of ferals and headed toward them in a blur of motion.



   "Mia, catch!" Tom called out, throwing a spear sideways towards her.

   Mia grabbed the spear from the air and snapped it into three pieces,
tucking one of them under her arm while grasping the other two in her
hands. She somersaulted over a feral that had bent over to finish off one
of the bowmen.  As she rolled over its back, she thrust one of the dull
pieces of wood completely through its chest before flipping upward to land
between two others of its kind.

   Grabbing the piece of wood from under her arm, she spun while extending
her arm, impaling one of the two ferals through the heart.  In the same
motion, she drove the wood in her other hand up through the second feral's
chin until it emerged from the top of its head in an explosion of brains,
bone and blood.

   Noticing that the flow of water from the sprinklers had slowed to the
merest of trickles, Mia decided to risk a change that would expose her
skin. Pieces of the rubber glove that had covered her left hand fell to the
floor as her nails extended into sharp talons and bony spikes grew from the
back of her hand.

   Ferals are faster and stronger than sentient vampires of the same age,
but Mia had an advantage of more than a century.  She moved from feral to
feral and none were able to stand against her for more than mere seconds.

   As she drew her changed fist from the chest cavity of the last of the
ferals, casually casting its heart to the side, Mia glanced up at the few
policemen who remained standing, watching her with a mixture of fear and
awe.  "You must drive wood through the hearts of the fallen undead or they
may heal and rise again," she directed.

   As the officers hurried to follow her instructions, Mia moved to stand
over the body of her former Master.  He had fallen too easily, she decided.
None of the officers had turned their weapons upon their comrades; none had
halted in confusion as their memories of the past weeks were torn from
them; and he had moved entirely too slowly.  She wondered if this enigma
had something to do with the change in emotion she had felt coming from him
the previous morning.  Was it possible that he had come here seeking his
own destruction?

   Mia's thoughts were interrupted by a small, bubbling groan from the
slight body that laid next to that of her Master.  Mia knelt by Dana and
gently turned her over onto her back, wincing at the sight of the grievous
injuries that the woman had sustained.  Mia could not imagine how the woman
was managing to cling to life.  Hearing footsteps behind her, Mia said,
"Call for an ambulance.  She will need a great deal of blood."

   Tom stepped in closer and gave Mia's shoulder a comforting squeeze, "We
already put in the call.  Ambulances are on the way."

   Mia nodded in response, but her attention was focused on Dana.  "You
saved all of us," she whispered fiercely, "Thank you."

   Mia bent down over the wounded woman and began to lick gently at her
wounds.  While not nearly as intense as a true feeding, involuntary
shudders of pleasure still ran through Mia's body at the taste of Dana's
blood.  At the same time, enough vampiric saliva entered Dana's system to
make her writhe sensuously on the floor.  With each broad pass of Mia's
tongue, Dana's wounds closed ever so slightly.

   As Mia tended to Dana's injuries, Tom moved around the room checking on
the remaining members of his task force and making certain that the ferals
would never rise again.  If this could be considered a victory, he decided,
it was a pyrrhic one at best.  Of his eight spear carriers, only one still
lived, although that one, by some miracle, was completely unscathed.  His
bowmen had fared somewhat better; of the nine that had been in the room,
only three were dead.  Of the remaining six, however, four, including Dana,
had a number of broken bones and lacerations that ranged from minor to, in
Dana's case, life threatening.

   Finally, Tom could no longer keep himself from checking on the final
member of his team.  With dread rising in him, Tom braced himself and
turned his head toward the wall that Mark had hit with such force that
there was almost no chance that he still lived.  To Tom's surprise and
great relief, Mark was sitting at the base of the wall.  One of Mark's legs
was sticking out at an unnatural angle, his breathing was shallow and his
arms were clasped tightly around his chest, but he was alive.

   Tom walked over to stand in front of his friend, placed his hands on his
hips, and said, "Well, don't you just look like shit?  When I saw you
flying through the air, I thought for sure that I would be traumatizing
your relatives with one of my infamous inspirational speeches."

   Mark looked up at Tom with a weak grin, moved a hand down to pat briefly
at his ample stomach and replied, "It was the gut that saved me.  All that
extra padding worked better than an air bag."

   As Tom eased himself down to sit next to his friend, Mark started
laughing but his laughter was quickly cut short by a groan of pain as he
clutched his ribs even more tightly.

   Noticing that Tom was looking at him quizzically, Mark explained, "I was
just imagining the look on that asshole building administrator's face when
he sees this mess."

   Tom looked over the room: the floor was soaked with blood; bodies and
body parts were scattered everywhere; and there was hardly a square foot
that doesn't contain the splintered remains of either the chair or an
archaic weapon.  Tom forced a small chuckle at his friend's joke.  It was
either that or cry.

   After a brief silence, Mark asked, "You do realize that there's
something missing, right?"

   Tom nodded curtly, "Yeah.  The bartender and Mr.  Bollinger, but we have
no information concerning their current status, whether they're alive, dead
or undead.  This might not be over quite yet, but let's keep that
possibility to ourselves for now.  Our men have enough on their minds at
the moment."

   Mark nodded agreeably and added, "Speaking of the men's minds, you might
want to go over and check on your girl before those minds sink completely
into the gutter."

   Tom followed the direction of Mark's gaze and his jaw dropped open in
astonishment.  "Well," he replied as he got to his feet, "at least Dana
seems to be feeling better."

   When Mia's tongue at last left only unmarked skin in its wake, she
pulled back and gazed with concern at the pale, drawn face of the fallen
woman.  Dana's eyes fluttered open and she struggled to focus on Mia.  With
a look of determination, Dana raised an arm weakly until she was able to
curl her hand around the back of Mia's neck.  Mia looked at the other woman
with confusion for a moment before she opened her senses and allowed
awareness of Dana's emotional state to flood into her.  A small sympathetic
smile appeared on Mia's lips as she allowed Dana to draw her down until
their lips touched.

   Dana's kiss was far more passionate than Mia would have expected given
Dana's physical state.  Soon Dana's tongue stretched out to probe at Mia's
lips, and Mia opened her mouth slightly to allow it entrance.  Mia tried to
return the kiss as passively as possible, not wanting to take any action
that would cause offense once Dana fully returned to her senses.  Still,
she couldn't resist sucking lightly on Dana's tongue as it explored the
front of Mia's mouth.

   "The ambulances are here," Tom said quietly from behind them.

   Reluctantly, Mia broke the kiss and lightly brushed the blood soaked
hair back from Dana's face.  "You're going to be ok," Mia whispered softly,
"but you need to go to the hospital.  Are you ready?" After Dana nodded,
Mia gathered the woman gently into her arms like a child and carried her to
the entrance and the waiting paramedics.

   Over the next half hour, Tom and the five relatively uninjured officers
helped the paramedics tend the wounded and load them into the ambulances.
Throughout the process, Tom repeatedly explained the need for secrecy to
the horrified medics.  Mark, at his own insistence, was the last of the
wounded to be placed on a gurney and carted towards the street.  As several
paramedics struggled to lift the stretcher into the back of an ambulance,
Chief Jacobs rounded the corner and entered the building.  Instinctively,
Tom moved to stand protectively near Mia.

   The Chief gazed grimly at the remaining carnage for a few minutes before
he asked, "Is it over, Tom?"

   "I don't know, Denny.  We still have a few bodies that are unaccounted
for," Tom replied.



   When the Chief raised an eyebrow in query, Tom quickly explained.

   When Tom was finished, the Chief sighed in frustration and said, "Okay.
I want those two found.  Get pictures of them to all of our patrolmen and
send someone to the morgue to look over the John and Jane Does.  Until Ms.
George is located, I want someone watching her residence and that of her
ex."

   The Chief walked over to one of the fallen ferals and kicked it over
onto its back.  "I recognize this one," he stated, "Stanley Carlesi.  Total
scumbag.  Busted him about ten years ago for running a meth lab in his
apartment.  The same apartment he lived in with two young children.  The
kids are completely fucked up now from the chemical exposure."

   Mia and Tom shied backwards in shock as the Chief calmly raised his foot
and brought the heel down forcefully on the body's mouth.  He repeated the
process several times before grunting in satisfaction.  "There we go," he
said, "No more fangs.  Now, it would seem that Stan here, disgruntled over
some perceived injustice, decided to set a bomb off in the courthouse
annex. Fortunately, our brave men and women in blue managed to stop him
while he was just getting set up.  Unfortunately, the explosives he was
carrying killed ten good cops and wounded a few others.  Now that we have a
scapegoat to put in the morgue, I want you and your team to load the rest
of these unnatural motherfuckers into the SWAT van and haul them off and
burn them.  Make sure you do it somewhere that no one will ever find them.
They were never here.  After you're done with that, all of you have the
next week off, barring another incident.  Keep your phones close."

   "Uh, Chief...," Tom began.

   Jacobs interrupted, "Yeah.  I know it's not perfect, but it's what I can
come up with at the moment.  Any better ideas?"

   Tom thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders in defeat,
"Nope. We'll take care of it."

   Several hours later, Tom, still covered in crusted blood from the battle
and now also reeking of burnt meat and smeared with soot, stumbled tiredly
up the steps towards his apartment.  Beside him, Mia, showing no signs of
exhaustion even though she had done most of the heavy lifting involved in
moving and burning the bodies, bounced lightly from step to step.

   With a disgusted grimace, Tom muttered, "Couldn't you at least pretend
to be weary to soothe the ol' male ego?  Hell, you're not even dirty!"

   "I was wearing that oh-so-lovely rain coat you gave me," she answered
primly.  She then fixed him with a calculating stare, "By the way, don't
even think that you're just going to crawl into bed and sleep."

   "Huh?" Tom answered intelligently.

   "I'm free for the first time in one hundred and fifty years.  You might
be surprised at how horny being released from physical and mental slavery
can make you." She paused and the sides of her mouth curled upwards into a
mischievous smile as she added, "Well, Dana helped that condition along,
too."

   Tom chuckled and asked, "I've been meaning to ask you about that.  What
made her go from being scared to death of you to trying to tickle your
tonsils?"

   With a coyly arched eyebrow, Mia replied, "Hmmm?  Oh.  Didn't I tell
you? Vampiric saliva is the greatest aphrodisiac that has ever existed."

   Tom stopped for a moment, dumbfounded.  "Huh.  Really?"

   Mia ignored his question and moved ahead of him, adding an exaggerated
swivel to the motion of her hips.  Tom watched in appreciation for a second
before continuing up the steps.  He suddenly felt a lot less tired.

   As they entered Tom's apartment, Mia turned and flowed into his arms,
pressing her lips tightly against his.  They kissed deeply and tenderly for
a moment until Mia broke the kiss with a exaggerated sniff.  "Before we get
too carried away," she said disdainfully, "someone here really needs to
take a shower."

   Laughing, they moved down the hall towards the bathroom, shedding
clothing along the way.  Once under the warm spray, they resumed their
embrace as their hands slid caressingly over the other's body.  Mia moaned
as Tom lowered his head to her breasts, sucking lightly on her nipples
while firmly massaging the firm orbs with his hands.

   Tom then trailed kisses down the middle of her taut stomach, pausing at
her center to lift her thigh up onto his shoulder, opening her sex fully to
his gaze.  As she held his head tightly, he delved into her femininity with
his tongue and fingers, bringing her to peaks of pleasure again and again.
Finally he stood, tracing his face and tongue up the length of her
quivering torso.  She kissed him fervently, her body melting against his.

   Breaking the kiss momentarily, he murmured, "It seem that saliva isn't
the only one of your juices that's an aphrodisiac," while pressing the
proof of his arousal against the soft skin of her stomach.

   Mia reached between their bodies to take his manhood in her hand and
stroked it gently.  Her blue eyes locked onto his brown ones as she said,
"I think we're clean enough."

   They burst from the shower stall and hastily dried themselves off before
running to the bedroom, giggling like schoolchildren.  Mia jumped onto the
bed and began to crawl to the other side when Tom stopped her by grasping
her hips.  They both groaned in ecstacy as Tom slid into her wet depths
from behind.  Tom knew that there were times to be gentle, but this wasn't
one of them.  He immediately began to plunge forcefully in and out of her,
his loins smacking loudly against the upthrust cheeks of her ass with each
thrust.

   Mia cried out as she again exploded in orgasm and fell forward onto her
stomach; her eyes closed as she savored the sensations that his cock was
evoking inside of her.  Undeterred, Tom moved with her, easing onto the bed
to straddle her thighs; his forays into the tight, wet folds of her cunt
were barely interrupted.

   Leaning forward over her back, he asked, "Do you want me to stop?"

   Her eyes remained closed but a small smile appeared on her lips as she
answered, "Mmmm, if you stop, I may just have to bite you."

   Laughing, he redoubled his efforts, enjoying the sight of the small
waves that traveled across the firm cheeks of her ass with each impact of
his flesh against hers.  As he continued to drive himself into her, he
massaged the muscles of her back and flanks, making her sigh contentedly.

   Slowing, he leaned forward until he could nibble lightly on her earlobe
before playfully whispering, "So, what other delightful parts of your
anatomy can you change?"

   Mia's eyes popped open in surprise.  and she twisted her head around in
an attempt to see his face.  She asked, "That doesn't disgust you, frighten
you or anything?"

   Nuzzling her neck, Tom replied, "I told you that I love you, Mia.  There
is nothing about you that I find the least bit disgusting or scary.  Quite
the opposite, actually."

   Mia moved in a blur and Tom squeaked in surprise as he was suddenly
lifted from the bed and twisted around before being deposited firmly onto
his back.  Mia straddled him and took his length fully back inside of her.
He could immediately feel the difference as folds of moist soft flesh moved
caressingly up and down the length of his cock.

   Mia sat motionless astride his hips as her changed cunt massaged the
hard flesh inside of her.  Gazing down at him intently, she asked, "So,
you're telling me that even this doesn't freak you out?" Even as she asked
the question, her will forced her mouth to change into the form she had
used the prior night.

   Tom smiled up at her.  Instead of answering with words, he pulled her
down to him and his tongue stretches out to intertwine with all of hers. 
Mia's body melted against his and for a long time they knew nothing but
bliss.

   At last Mia broke the kiss and returned her mouth to its normal form. 
As she raised her upper body, Tom could see her fangs descend into place.

   "Curious?" she asked coyly.

   Tom nodded his assent, and Mia lowered her mouth to his chest where she
gently pierced his skin with her elongated canines.  She shuddered in
orgasm as she felt his cock erupt deep inside of her.  Her orgasm continued
and grew as she lapped at the blood that seeped slowly from the shallow
wounds that she had inflicted.  When they were both sated, Mia licked at
the slight punctures to close them and rose until she could gaze softly
into his eyes.

   "I love you," they each said, almost at the same instant.

   Completely and fully happy for the first time in her existence, Mia
snuggled into the chest of her lover.  The pair continued their lovemaking
until dawn, Mia restoring her lover's vigor with small bites any time it
threatened to wane.

   Chapter 19



   From the dark recesses of a small alleyway nearly a block from the old
jail, Arthur watched the scene unfold through expanded senses.  Early
jubilation turned into disgust as his gambit faltered.  A small shudder
passed through his body as the knot of emotions that had been Jimmy
shattered and vanished; the fledgling's existence brought to an end by a
wounded policewoman wielding a broken stick.  With Jimmy's death, Mia's
bond, which Arthur had passed to his morose fledgling at the close of the
prior night, was also lost.

   Arthur had been curious about the effect that the death of a Master
would have upon its slave.  Would the former fledgling be completely and
immediately free or would it be compelled to carry out the last order that
it had been given?  To Arthur's great disappointment, the former turned out
to be the truth.  Inside Arthur's mind, the small knots of primitive
emotion which represented his ferals winked out as Mia exterminated them in
rapid succession.

   Although Arthur's body remained absolutely motionless within the dark
shadows of the alley, his mind writhed with indecision.  It had been his
hope to witness the anguish on Mia's face as she slaughtered her allies and
her lover before seeking her own doom with the rising of the sun, but that
was no longer an option.  With the passing of her bond, it never would be
again.  He wondered at the action he should take now that James had failed
him.  He could just put an end to the treacherous bitch this instant; the
majority of her friends were dead or wounded and garlic water no longer
flowed from the ceiling.  But no, he decided, that death would be too easy,
too simple, for her.  She owed him prolonged agony as payment for her
betrayal and he was determined to collect in full.  Besides, he reasoned,
deferring her end was no longer a risk, now that her connection to him had
been severed.

   Arthur was pulled from his thoughts by the beam of a flashlight
flickering about the alley before homing in and fixing on his face.  He
cursed his own carelessness.  He had been so focused on the events in the
old jail that he hadn't noticed the policeman's approach.

   "Hold it right there, bud, and keep your hands where I can see them,"
the cop commanded as he approached, "This area was evacuated more than a
half hour ago.  What are you still doing here?"

   With a contemptuous sneer, Arthur lashed out with his will.  The
flashlight clattered to the ground as the cop experienced the discontinuity
of thought that comes with the sudden and dramatic loss of memory.  Arthur
tore into the hapless man's mind again.  Eyes glazed over, the policeman
bent over and retrieved his light before walking past Arthur, his mind
refusing to acknowledge the vampire's presence.

   Arthur waited patiently as Mia and the few remaining policemen in the
old jail tended to their wounded and loaded the remains of James and most
of the ferals into the large van formerly used by the city's SWAT team. 
When the van pulled away, Arthur followed.  He kept pace as the van
traveled outside the bounds of the city to a long abandoned steel mill that
sat like a decomposing corpse among a throng of vacant, ramshackle houses.
There, careful to stay downwind out of respect for Mia's exceptional
olfactory sense, he watched from a distance as the bodies of his former
minions were loaded into the rusted ruins of the mill's Bessemer blast
furnace, doused with gasoline and set ablaze.  Mia and the policemen
somberly tended the fire, liberally adding more fuel as needed, until
nothing but bone remained.  They then took turns crushing the bones to
fragments with a sledgehammer taken from the back of the van.

   The light from the fire and the noise of the hammer drew the attention
of a few bedraggled homeless people who were taking temporary shelter in
the industrial ghost town.  They gathered at a distance and stared,
bewildered, at the scene.  Mia moved among them and they dispersed to go
about their business, retaining no memory of the grim activities they had
witnessed.

   Arthur's interest peaked when one of the policemen embraced Mia from
behind and kissed her softly as she leaned back into him.  Now he knew the
face of Mia's lover.  A small smile appeared on Arthur's face as he
contemplated the man's extremely limited and agonizingly painful future.

   When the police were finally satisfied with their disposal efforts,
Arthur followed the van back to the station.  There he watched Mia and her
mortal climb into the rusty remnants of a first generation Ford Escort.  He
again followed as they traveled to a moderate sized apartment building and
stood watching as they went inside.  Once he had learned the apartment
number, he faded into the night, not willing to tolerate the disgusting
display of sentimentality for so much as a second longer.

   The passage of less than half an hour found him in South Oakland, a
neighborhood that was a curious mix of dilapidated houses rented out to
college students for ridiculous fees and the far better kept homes of
laborers.  At this late hour, the vast majority of the residents of both
types were deeply asleep in their beds.  In a fit of pique, Arthur vented
some of the pent up rage and frustration from the evening by reaching out
to the sleeping minds with his own as he walked past; invading their dreams
with horrific, nightmare visions.  In his wake, formerly blissful
slumberers woke screaming in terror or, in the case of several elderly
residents, never woke again.

   Shortly, he reached the small, one story house that he had purchased
more than a month ago for just such contingent circumstances as those he
found himself in at the moment.  Entering the living room, lit only by the
diffuse light of street lamps filtering through the curtains, he found
Alicia sitting on the couch, her feet curled beneath her.  Loud snores,
emanating from the bedrooms down the short hallway, revealed the presence
of the mercenaries.

   Alicia stood to greet him, her lips curving upwards in a smile.  Arthur
could not help but notice that the dress he had selected at random from one
of the Bollingers' closets did not fit his fledgling well; being far too
small in the bodice and too large in the hips.

   Running a finger over the exposed skin of one of the breasts that bulged
obscenely out of what had been intended as a daringly low neckline for a
far less amply endowed woman, Arthur commented, "We shall have to acquire
some new attire for you, Alicia.  You will find it difficult to remain
inconspicuous in your current garb."

   She responded with a non-committal shrug of her shoulders, sending
delightful ripples through her mostly exposed bosom.

   Noticing several tell-tale stains on the front of her dress, Arthur said
dryly, "I see that you were playing with our guards.  I trust that you did
not cause them any undue damage?"

   With a sultry smile, Alicia replied, "They're fine, Master." She paused
for a moment, her lips pursed in thought, before adding, "Although they may
be a little sore tomorrow."

   With a light laugh, Arthur settled onto the couch and reached for the
television remote.  "There was much ado at the courthouse this evening,
Alicia," he said, "Let us see how the official cover story is holding up to
media scrutiny."

   As Arthur flipped back and forth between CNN and CNBC, Alicia curled up
next to him on the couch.  One of Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly in
surprise when Alicia undid the front of his pants to expose his manhood,
and then leaned over to take it into her mouth.  Arthur absently watched
Alicia's head bob up and down in his lap until CNN began to report the
breaking news from Pittsburgh.  Prominently displaying an old mug shot of
Stan, the belligerent bar patron turned feral, over video of police cars
surrounding the old jail, the lovely female anchor recited a story almost
verbatim to that which Arthur had heard Chief Jacobs fabricate earlier that
night.

   As the anchor began to summarize the tragic events of the prior week,
Alicia stood, pulled her dress above her waist and sat on Arthur's lap,
taking his cock fully inside her cold, wet sex.

   Even when Alicia's hips began to rise and fall, Arthur paid the woman
little attention.  Twisting his head in an attempt to see around her,
Arthur commanded, "Lean forward a bit, Alicia dear, you're blocking my view
of the television." Without interrupting the rhythms of fornication, Alicia
immediately complied with her Master's order.

   The anchorwoman next connected Stan and his alleged accomplices with the
massacre that had occurred at Sam's Tavern the previous night,
characterizing the event as a falling out among conspirators.  The reporter
completed the segment on Pittsburgh by rehashing the tired story that the
SWAT team had been lost to a gang of heavily armed thugs.  Typical of the
media in this day and age, even in the absence of actual facts, the anchor
hinted at a connection between all three events and implied that some of
Stan's accomplices could still be on the loose.  The clear implication was
that further acts of violence could, and likely would, occur.  There was no
indication that the media had even thought to question any of the official
renditions of the three events.

   Arthur sat fuming, truly vexed that fear-mongering, celebrity worship
and sensationalism had taken the place of true investigative reporting
among modern day reporters.  He had gone to so much effort in order to
reveal the fundamental truth that humanity was not as highly placed on the
food chain as they wished to believe, and the news media couldn't even take
the trouble to look beyond the flawed and facile story that had been spoon
fed to them by some low-level public functionary.

   His plan had revolved around his belief that the official cover story
would not hold up to scrutiny; and that there would be spreading awareness
among the mortals that they were little more than cattle.  Once fear,
tempered by the belief that the threat had been ended, had spread
throughout the populace he had intended to again reveal himself in another
act of carnage, tearing away the last final, fragile remnants of their
sense of security.  But there was no sign that the cover story was being
subjected to any scrutiny.  It appeared that he would have to perform an
act of such magnitude that it couldn't be hidden or ignored.  As he
considered how he might accomplish his purpose in the face of the media's
obtuse incompetence, a cold light began to burn in his eyes.  The solution
suddenly seemed obvious.

   His primary concern resolved, Arthur turned his attention to the
fledgling who continued to bounce energetically in his lap.  He found her
lack of resentment and apparent devotion difficult to believe.  With
exacting care, he sifted through the knot of emotions that was the artifact
of her bond to him, but he could find no evidence of subterfuge.  Either
she was exactly what she appeared to be, or she was such a master of
deception that she could mold even her deepest thoughts and feelings to fit
the character she wished to portray.  Arthur dismissed the latter
possibility with a snort of laughter.

   Putting his misgivings aside in the face of nearly indisputable
evidence, Arthur reached out to his fledgling and ran his fingers lightly
over her flanks.  The pleasure she experienced at his touch flashed through
the bond even as she orally expressed it with a soft coo.  He traced a
finger down the crack between her buttocks to her anus.  In response, she
slowed her movements to invite further exploration.  His finger slid easily
into the well greased orifice.  He smiled with amusement at her back;
apparently she had entertained the guards far more thoroughly than he would
have guessed.

   Hooking his finger over the delicate ring of muscle, Arthur used it as a
handle to bounce her on his cock with ever increasing rapidity.  Through
the bond, he knew that this was causing her some pain, but, strangely, the
slight pain seemed to incite even greater pleasure.  Briefly he considered
testing the limits of her tolerance, but found that he could not bring
himself to do so.  To his great disgust, part of him was intrigued by the
idea of a fledgling who didn't resent and loathe him.  He knew that if he
wanted to remain strong, to be able to continue to resist the pain and
disappointment that came with the endless flow of centuries, that he had to
be cold, dispassionate, and uncaring.  He needed to crush this newly
discovered weakness so completely that it would be as if it had never
existed.  To his dismay, instead of doing that which must be done, he found
himself removing his finger from her body and sliding his hands gently up
her sides to cup her breasts.

   She leaned slowly back against him until she was pressed against his
chest.  Twisting her head to playfully nip along his jawline, she whispered
excitedly, "Bite me, Master.  Please bite me!" Before he could answer, she
added in a wistful tone, "I tried biting myself, but it didn't work."

   Even as he turned his head and opened his jaws to give her what she
craved, Arthur's eyebrows arched in surprise.  In all of his years, it had
never once occurred to him to try to bite himself as a form of macabre
masturbation.  As his teeth pierced her skin and she writhed and moaned in
ecstacy, he wondered just what he had created when he had given her the
Gift, both in her and in himself.  She bent and bit into one of his hands
that still fondled her breasts and his cares were washed away in the bliss
of release.

   Chapter 20

   Tom's alarm clock forced him from slumber at the disgustingly early hour
of ten a.m.  He rubbed his knuckles into sleep bleary eyes, wanting nothing
more than to roll over and go back to sleep.  That wasn't possible, though.
The city wide memorial service for the men and women lost during the first
raid on a vampire's lair was at noon.  He couldn't miss it.

   Turning to look at Mia's face, peaceful in dormancy, he whispered,
"That's what I get for falling in love with a vampire: too damn accustomed
to the hours they keep."

   He kissed Mia's cool lips lightly and then pulled himself from the bed.
Before exiting the room, he eased the blankets over her head to ensure that
no sunlight would be able to find her.  He quickly showered and put on his
dress uniform, deciding at the last minute that he would just swing through
a drive-thru for breakfast.  To hell with his growing gut.

   A half hour later, still munching on a sausage and egg burrito, he
stopped by the hospital to check on those who had been injured the prior
night.  A short conversation at the reception desk informed him that all
but Dana and Mark had been treated and released, although many of the
others had follow up appointments.

   He stopped by Dana's room first but found her asleep, her face still
pale and drawn despite the blood that had been given to her by IV.  Turning
to leave, he almost bumped into the doctor that had performed the surgery
on the injuries that Mia had inflicted on Mark at their first meeting.

   With a nod toward Dana's sleeping form, the doctor solemnly stated,
"Dramatic and profound anemia, with no sign of injury.  A common condition
as of late, though she is one of the few to survive it.  I will, of course,
continue to profess my ignorance of the underlying cause to anyone who
asks, but I would like to know if there have been any developments."

   With a smile, Tom replied, "Actually, doctor, I think you'll find that
particular condition will be extremely rare from here on out."

   While it was obvious that the doctor craved details, he contented
himself with a relieved nod, "That may be the best news I've had in years.
Thanks for the info, Lieutenant."

   Tom stopped by Mark's room next, grinning with amusement when he saw
that Jenny was perched on the edge of the bed, watching her husband like a
hawk.  The determined look on her face made it clear that she would never
again allow Mark to vanish without her knowledge.  Tom chatted with the
pair until it was nearly time for the memorial service.  Before taking his
leave, Tom had Mark give him the phone number of Peter Black, the former
city police officer who was now involved with a 4H group in a rural suburb.

   Tom called Peter as he drove to the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial in
Oakland.  The news was excellent.  Peter not only did the butchering for
everyone who purchased an animal from the 4H group, but also did a fair
amount of such work for the farmers in his area.  Peter estimated that he
processed between ten and fifteen animals each week, and, because he worked
the daylight shift for the municipal police department, he did all of the
butchering at night.  Finally, and most importantly, the animals were
usually delivered to Peter alive and, if someone else wanted to pay a
nominal fee for the privilege of killing them, Peter had no objection so
long as the meat wasn't damaged.  The "nominal fee" that Peter quoted was
even actually nominal.  Tom set up an appointment for that evening, and
concluded the call just as he arrived at the parking garage near the
memorial.

   Tom was pleased at the turnout for the memorial service, which had been
expanded at the last minute to include those who had fallen the night
before.  It appeared that every off duty police officer within a hundred
mile radius had come to pay their respects and more than a few had traveled
much farther.  There were also far more civilians present than he had
expected, and, although some were obviously there only for the spectacle of
the event, most were somber and seemed grateful to the men and women who
had given their lives in service to the public.  This was so even though
the masses still had no idea what these men and women had faced.

   By the time all the speeches had been given, and the hearses, at the
head of a miles long procession, had carried the honored dead across the
city to be lowered into the welcoming earth, the sun hung low in the sky.
Tom whispered a final farewell to his fallen brethern, and then left to
address the needs of the living, or at least the needs of a single undead.

   Traffic was unexpectedly light on the way back to his apartment and he
arrived with more than an hour left until dusk.  He decided to put the time
to good use and curled up on the bed next to the dormant form of his lover,
gently pulling her body toward him until she was spooned against him. 
Within moments he was asleep.

   For Mia it seemed that every awakening over the past week had brought
with it a completely novel experience.  This night it was the feeling of
waking up wrapped snugly in another's arms.  She felt deliciously,
wonderfully warm as she had not since the time she had received the Gift.
While extremes in temperature did not cause her discomfort, warmth such as
this remained exceedingly pleasant.  With a happy murmur, she snuggled
herself deeper into Tom's chest.  Moments later, his arms tightened around
her as he, too, came awake.

   Mia twisted herself around until she could draw him to her for a kiss
which lingered on until Tom pulled himself away with a reluctant sigh.

   Giving Mia a light, affectionate pat on the bottom, he said, "I wish we
could stay like this all night, but we have places to go and people to
see."

   "Oh?" Mia whispered indifferently as she gently tried to pull his mouth
back to hers.

   "I was thinking that I would take you out for dinner," Tom elaborated
even as his halfhearted resistance of her efforts failed and their lips met
again.

   This time it was Mia who disengaged.  Tom laughed at the bewildered look
on her face and explained the arrangement that he had reached with Peter
Black.

   "Okay.  Let's give it a shot," she said when he finished.

   After a quick shower and an hour drive into rural western Pennsylvania,
they arrived at Peter's abode, an ancient but well maintained farmhouse
sitting in the middle of recently plowed fields that stretched over the
gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

   As they exited the car, Peter came out to greet them.  Of average
height, he was thick with muscle and had a broad, kind face topped with
hair that was beginning to thin despite his relative youth.

   After introductions and handshakes had been exchanged, Tom gazed around
the countryside as he commented, "A policeman, a butcher and a farmer.  I'm
impressed."

   With a chuckle, Peter replied, "The land's mine, been in the family for
a couple generations, but I rent it out to a real farmer who lives down the
road a ways.  I barely have the time to keep a small garden behind the
house."

   After sizing Tom up for a moment, Peter ventured, "I gotta tell ya that
I didn't know what to make of your call, so I dialed Mark up.  He vouched
for yinz guys, said you were on the up and up, and promised that yinz
weren't gonna be doing nothing perverted.  He also told me that I shouldn't
ask no questions, so I won't.  What you want with them animals ain't none
of my business and, as long as you don't mess up the meat, I won't make it
my business.  I got two pigs in the barn out back that need butchering
tonight.  I reckon that you can find the barn on your own.  Let me know
when yinz are done so I can do what needs doing 'fore the meat goes bad."

   Tom shook Peter's hand again, slipping the man a folded up twenty in the
process.  With a polite nod, Peter thumbed the cash into his pocket and
vanished back into the house.  Walking around the side of the house, Tom
and Mia found only a corrugated metal garage that, by the process of
elimination, had to be the barn to which Peter had referred.  When Tom
raised one of the double garage doors, bright florescent light spilled out
into the darkness.

   The building had only a single room which was highly utilitarian in
nature.  The area closest to the door was filled by a stall, large enough
to hold several cows but currently containing only the two pigs that Peter
had mentioned.  On the floor near the stall, the pair could see a coiled
hose and several industrial sized bottles of Clorox.  It was apparent that
the room had been designed for easy cleanup with the poured concrete floor
being inclined slightly downward toward a large drain located in the
center. The sides of the room were lined with a variety of smokers and
freezers, some of which were partially dismantled.  At the rear of the
room, a large wooden table, covered with a variety of knives, saws and
clamps, spanned the width of the building.  Every surface was spotlessly
clean and the room reeked of bleach.

   For several minutes, Tom and Mia leaned against the stall wall, gazing
uncertainly at the huge swine within.  In contrast, the pigs showed no
interest whatsoever in their visitors, but merely continued rooting around
in the thinly strewn hay on the floor.  After forcing her doubts aside, Mia
vaulted over the waist high enclosure.  The instant her feet touched the
floor, the pigs raised their snouts, nostrils opening wide as they sniffed
the air deeply.  Both beasts immediately started to tremble, their eyes
rolling until the whites showed prominently.  Then Mia's inhuman speed was
put the test as the pigs charged in a frenzy around the stall while
squealing in fear.  Once she was able, Mia hopped back over the wall and
delved into their primitive minds until they calmed and grew still.

   Returning to the interior of the enclosure, Mia concentrated on one of
the beasts until, snorting softly, it fell to its knees and then over on
its side.  Its breathing became deep and regular as it was forced into
sleep.  Mia then ran a finger around the neck and throat of the other
swine, feeling for the pulse of a large artery.  Failing to locate one, she
slid her hands down the pig's body.  She located a pulse on the underside
of the tail, but refused to feed so close to the pig's anus.  Fortunately,
as she picked up each of the legs in turn, she found surface arteries on
the back of each.

   Mia crooned softly to the pig until it sank to the floor to lay on its
side.  Rolling it fully over onto its back, she examined the lower part of
one of the front legs more carefully.

   Looking up at Tom, she asked, "Um, could you find a clean rag, wet it
down and give it to me?"

   Tom did as she asked.  Once the leg had been cleaned as much as
possible, Mia hesitantly lowered her head and bit into the pulsing artery.
Hot blood gushed into her mouth, but, while it did give her some pleasure,
it did not send her to the heady heights of orgasmic bliss that human blood
did.  The pig, on the other hand, grunted wildly as its hindquarters
frantically humped up off the floor.  Mia averted her eyes when its penis
slid from its sheath.

   Mia continued to feed until the swine had breathed its last.  As she
rose back to her feet she took the massive head in her hands and twisted
until she heard the neck snap.  Seeing Tom wince at the sound of breaking
bone, she explained, "I have no idea what effect my bite might have on an
animal, but I bet Pete would be really upset if it jumped up off the
butcher's table and bit him before running loose to ravage the
countryside."

   They both giggled slightly at the mental image that Mia's words created,
but Tom sobered quickly and asked, "So, uh, how was it?"

   Mia considered the question for a few seconds before answering, "It
certainly wasn't the best meal that I ever had, but I think it will
suffice, at least for a day or two."

   After a moment's thought, Tom asked, "Do you need the other one, too?"

   Mia shook her head, "I don't think so.  Just one held a lot more blood
than I'm used to taking in all at once."

   Tom quickly jumped backwards as Mia heaved the body of the massive beast
out of the enclosure before hopping out herself.  She dragged the carcass
near to the drain and then fetched a knife from the butcher's table.  As
she made incisions over the leg arteries, she explained, "No matter what
assurances he gave us, Peter will get curious if his animals are drained
completely of blood without any major injuries or mess.  Could you grab the
hose and spray off the pig and the area around it?  That will make it look
like we washed the mess down the drain."

   Tom nodded, seeing the logic in her plan, and did as she told him.  As
he sprayed water over the already clean area, he asked, "I'm guessing that
doing things like this is how you stayed hidden for all those years?"

   She nodded, "Partially.  The other part was who we chose to feed on.  No
offense to your department, but, generally speaking, when gangbangers,
homeless people or petty criminals turn up dead there isn't much of an
investigation.  The loss of blood is explained away through the assumption
that the victim was killed elsewhere and then transported."

   While he wanted to defend the dedication and impartiality of police
departments everywhere, Tom couldn't really refute her point.

   After telling Peter that they were done and making arrangements to meet
him again in two days when he was scheduled to butcher a lamb, they started
the drive home.

   As they entered the outskirts of the city, Tom reached over and took her
hand, squeezing it gently.  "You know," he said with a smile, "After going
out to dinner, it's traditional to take your date dancing or to the movies
or something."

   Mia returned his smile with a broad grin of her own, "Dancing sounds
fun."

   Several hours later, Tom trudged slowly up the stairs to his apartment.
His hair and shirt were damp with sweat and his legs felt like rubber. 
Dancing with Mia had been much like one of the aerobic training sessions
during his academy days, only lasting much, much longer.

   He groaned as she gave him a playful swat on the butt, too tired to even
flinch.

   "Get moving, slowpoke," she chirped, "I'm not done with you yet."

   "I swear that you're trying to give me a heart attack," he replied with
mock indignation, "I'm not as young as I used to be, you know."

   "Pfft," Mia scoffed, "I'm more than a hundred years older than you and
you don't hear me whining."

   At the next landing, she pressed her lips to his ear and, in a soft,
throaty whisper, told him exactly what he could expect once they made it to
his apartment.  He found the energy to run up the last two flights of
stairs as Mia laughed behind him.

   The passage of a few more long and extremely pleasant hours found them
lying languidly entwined in Tom's bed.  He was even more exhausted now, but
didn't mind in the slightest.

   Snuggling her head into the crook of his neck, Mia murmured happily,
"See?  You're not so old and decrepit after all."

   Grinning, he began to respond when he was interrupted by the hum of his
cell phone vibrating against the top of his night stand.  He stared at it
with dread as it continued to ring; the last call he had gotten at three in
the morning had led to him wading through blood at Sam's Tavern.  Finally,
with a reluctant groan, he pushed himself out of bed and answered the phone
as he fumbled his way toward the bathroom.

   Several minutes later, he came running back, already punching the phone
number of the first member of his team on his list into the cell phone. 
"Bad news.  Really bad," he told Mia in an agitated voice, "Would you be
willing to give us a hand?  We could probably really use it."

   Mia hopped from the bed and began to pull on her clothes.  "Of course,"
was all she said.

   Chapter 21

   Arthur strolled slowly around the perimeter of the William Penn Hotel.
Alicia, now wearing an elegant evening gown that fit her perfectly, walked
quietly at his side.  With the tragic events of the past week and the
historically large memorial service earlier that day, the news media had
flocked to the city like vultures to fresh carrion.  Many of them had
roosted here at the city's finest hotel.  With his extended senses, Arthur
could feel their pretentious, petulant minds teeming throughout the
building, waiting hopefully for yet another tragedy to befall the city, one
that could be exploited in the name of ratings.  He would give it to them.
After all, what better instrument could there be to bring fear to the
masses than the slaughter of the fear-mongers themselves?

   As they walked, Alicia asked, in a tone that was curious rather than
reproachful, "Does the killing of innocents ever bother you, Master?"

   Arthur let out a surprised laugh.  "I am surprised to hear you ask such
a question, child," he replied, "I would have thought that you, of all
people, would realize that, among humanity, there is no such thing as
innocence; only degrees of guilt."

   She pondered his words as they walked to the entrance of the hotel. 
They nodded amiably as the doorman, dressed in an extravagant colonial era
uniform, threw the door wide to allow them entrance.  Arthur gazed
appreciatively around the luxuriously appointed lobby, from the fine
crystal chandeliers to the well polished marble floor.  The center of the
room was filled with arrangements of plush, comfortable looking furniture
while the periphery was a melange of store fronts.  The two areas were
separated by an elegant railing topped with a deeply polished hardwood
handrail.

   They strode casually across the lobby to the area devoted to the hotel's
administrative offices; in their expensive attire no one gave them a second
look..  There, Arthur reached out with his mind to touch those of the few
security guards on duty, planting suggestions to ensure that they would not
take notice of the images of Arthur and his fledgling which would
undoubtedly soon appear on the security monitors.  The duo then walked to
the elevators where Arthur contemplated the buttons for a moment before
deciding to start at the bottom and work his way up.  Eager anticipation
coursed through him as the time of the slaughter grew nigh.  As the doors
slid shut, a business traveler happened to look through the shrinking gap
to meet Arthur's eyes.  His briefcase fell from fingers that had gone
suddenly, inexplicably weak, and every hair on his body stood on end.

   Several floors up, the first floor with guest accommodations, Arthur and
Alicia strode out of the elevator and walked to the first door in the short
hallway.  Arthur probed the interior of the room and then the locking
mechanism with his expanded senses.  Satisfied with what he had discovered,
he raised his hand to the lock and focused his will, causing the pins and
tumblers to fall into place.

   There were two men inside, each sitting on one of the identical double
beds that filled most of the room's floor space.  The room was cluttered
with a number of video cameras, tripods and various other tools of the
trade for a professional cameraman.  As the door silently opened, they
looked up from the laptops on which they had been reviewing the day's
footage.

   The one sitting closest to the door looked at the intruders with
irritation and began to speak, "I'm sorry, but I think you have..."

   His voice cut off with a gurgle as Alicia grabbed him by the neck,
smiling at him with malicious glee before sinking her fangs deeply into his
throat.  Moving swiftly across the room, Arthur broke the other man's jaw
with a casual backhand to forestall any potential cry for help.  Grabbing a
handful of hair, Arthur bent the man's head sharply to the side and then
joined his fledgling in the joy of feeding.

   Several minutes later the men lay sprawled across their beds, their
sightless eyes fixed and staring at the ceiling.  Arthur paid them no
further heed.  He briefly inspected his fledgling to ensure that her attire
bore no suspicious stains and then led her back out into the hall, pausing
briefly to place a "Do Not Disturb" sign over the knob.  They moved from
room to room and from floor to floor.  It did not matter if they found
their victims asleep, awake, alone or in groups; it made no difference if
those they encountered tried to run or stood to fight.  Once the pair
entered a room, they did not leave until all within were dead.  There were,
however, some rooms that they did not enter.  There simply was not enough
time to clear the entire hotel in a single night and leaving witnesses was
a crucial part of the exercise.  Arthur was careful to leave at least one
cameraman and, occasionally, a reporter among the living on each level.

   As had been the case in Sam's Tavern several nights before, the two were
forced to regurgitate the blood that they had consumed after every few
victims so that they might continue the feeding frenzy.  In an impromptu
competition, they did so in as gruesome a manner as possible in an attempt
to achieve the greatest effect upon any who might view the scenes in the
aftermath of the evening.

   As they moved up to the higher floors of the building, they began to
come across the suites, occupied by reporters who had achieved celebrity
status, wealthy businessmen and a few vacationers and honeymooners.  When
death came to their doors, status meant nothing and wealth could buy no
privileges.

   It took more than a few hours after the carnage had begun for the pair
to clear somewhat more than half of the nearly six hundred rooms of the
large hotel, but, finally, there was only one area remaining: the
presidential suite.  In the hall outside the luxurious and expensive
apartment, Arthur waved his hand over the door knob and watched as the
indicator light for the electronic lock went from red to green.  Pushing
the door open, he and Alicia entered a foyer dominated by a round table of
polished marble centered below a crystal chandelier.  To their right was a
large, elegantly appointed meeting room, to the left an identically sized
room which had as its focal point a baby grand piano.  All three rooms were
empty.

   Arthur pushed his awareness through the rooms and discovered that there
were three people within; one alone in a bathroom and the other two each
sleeping on their own twin bed in a room that would have been described as
servant's quarters a century ago.  Passing quickly through a dining room
and kitchenette, Arthur entered the master bedroom with Alicia close on his
heels.  The bathroom and its lone occupant were on the opposite side of the
only other door to the room.

   Throwing that door open, he and Alicia burst into a lavishly appointed,
steam filled bathroom.  Inside, a woman laid semi-reclined in a large,
marble whirlpool bath.  Even if he had not already been sifting through her
memories, Arthur would have known her on sight.  Her name was Naomi Harper
and she had been voted the most trusted news anchor in the country the
previous year.  At the moment, her adoring fans would barely recognize her
as the perky blond that they so loved; a sullen glower twisted the delicate
features of her face and her mind seethed with resentment over having been
sent here by the network executives to cover the day's memorial service in
person.

   As she registered their presence, Naomi threw a hand across her breasts
and hunched down to immerse herself more fully in the steaming water.  Her
face contorted in rage, she screamed, "Who the fuck are you?  Actually,
fuck that; I don't care.  Just get the fuck out!" The arm not covering her
breasts rose from the water to imperiously point out the way.

   "Tsk, tsk, Naomi," Arthur replied in a low, condescending voice, "What
would your viewers say if they heard such vulgar profanity coming from your
lips?"

   Ignoring the question, Naomi shrieked, "Tricia, Victor, get your asses
in here!"

   Almost immediately, Arthur heard rapid footsteps approaching the master
bedroom.  His eyes narrowed in concentration and claws again extended from
his fingertips.  Seconds later, Victor, Naomi's personal administrator, and
Tricia, her makeup and wardrobe consultant, sprinted into the room, their
hair and slight clothing in disarray from sleep.

   Naomi, her composure restored by the arrival of reinforcements,
commanded coldly, "Escort these intruders out of the suite and call
security.  I most certainly will want to press charges."

   After giving Alicia a quick nod, Arthur spun and drew his clawed hand
across Victor's abdomen, spraying blood and bits of viscera across the fine
porcelain tiles of the bathroom wall and Naomi's face and breasts.  At the
same moment, Alicia threw Tricia to the floor and pounced upon the supine
woman, exposing her fangs in a snarl before sinking them into Tricia's
throat.  The obscene sucking noises of her voracious feeding echoed through
the small room.

   Stepping around his feeding fledgling, Arthur walked slowly toward the
stricken woman in the bathtub.  "I have a job for you, Naomi," he said,
"You are going to be the one who reveals our presence to the world.  But
that will not be possible until you understand our nature."

   Arthur's words pulled Naomi from her dazed stupor.  "Who the fuck are
you?" she asked shrilly as she frantically wiped at the blood spatters on
her face.

   In a patronizing voice, Arthur replied, "I believe the proper question
is 'What the fuck are we?'" Turning his head pointedly toward where Alicia
still fed on the writhing, moaning makeup artist, he continued, "You were
an investigative reporter before you became an anchor.  Surely the answer
to that question must be obvious."

   Naomi stared in shock as Tricia grew still, and a death rattle emanated
from her ravaged throat.  "You killed them," Naomi said numbly.

   "Ahh, there are the astute powers of observation that have won you such
esteem," Arthur said mockingly as he took her by the hair and dragged her
whimpering from the tub.  He threw her to her knees at his feet and ran his
gaze up and down her trembling form.  Naomi, who he could see was a natural
blond, was in her early to mid-thirties, and had the tight, toned body of
one whose career depended on being physically attractive.  She squealed as
he curiously flicked one of her breasts with a clawed finger, confirming
that her impressive bust was entirely natural.

   Gazing up at him with wide, terrified eyes, Naomi whimpered, "What do
you want?"

   Arthur sneered down at the woman, "I want all of mankind to spend their
nights trembling in fear behind heavy, locked doors.  I want the best and
strongest that humanity has to offer to hunt me that I might rend their
flesh and consume their life.  I want my kind to take our rightful place as
masters of this world with you as our chattel." He paused for a moment, his
lips curling up into the semblance of a smile, before he continued, "But
first, dear Naomi, I want to listen to you scream in agony as I fuck you."

   As he pulled his erect cock from his pants, Arthur caused his claws to
curl into talons and sank them lightly into the skin of her scalp.  Once
she was held firmly in place, he eased forward until the head of his
manhood brushed against her soft lips.

   Naomi's mouth twisted with distaste at the sight of his large, ugly cock
and, with a fierceness that did not extend to her eyes, she spat out, "If
you even try to stick that in my mouth, I swear to God that I'll bite it
off."

   Arthur laughed, "I admire your spirit, dear, but I'm afraid you are
mistaken."

   Naomi's eyes again widened in shock as her jaw dropped open and her lips
pursed in an oval, both refusing to respond to her efforts to move them. 
She gagged as his member pushed over her tongue.  He immediately began to
hump violently into her face, the head of his cock punching brutally into
the back of her throat with each thrust.

   Arthur switched his attention to Alicia, who sat licking her lips as she
watched her Master's cock plunge in and out of Naomi's mouth, "Where are
your manners, Alicia?  It would only be polite to pleasure our generous
host."

   Alicia hesitated momentarily as she searched her Master's words for
hidden meaning or intent.  Finding none, she dropped to the floor and
wormed her head back between Naomi's thighs.  Once there she began to lap
at the woman's labia and swirl her tongue around the small pink lump that
hid Naomi's clit.  Concentrating, Alicia attempted to change her tongue, to
make it longer and thicker, but her ability in this area was lacking: if
her effort had resulted in any change, she was unable to discern it.  Using
her standard appendages, she tried her best to arouse the terrified woman,
but everything she did came to naught.

   Arthur's voice resonated from above her, "You know what to do, Alicia.
Just take care not to drain her."

   Alicia's face flushed slightly in embarrassment at having missed the
obvious solution.  Turning her head to the side, she sank her fangs into
the silken skin of Naomi's thigh.  Naomi squealed at the pain caused by the
piercing of her flesh and then moaned around the cock that continued to
violate her mouth.  The scent of Naomi's arousal, as well as her own,
filled Alicia's senses as she withdrew her teeth and licked daintily at the
wounds until they closed.  Turning her head she bit into the opposite thigh
with similar effect.

   After a few minutes, Arthur pulled his cock from Naomi's mouth and
relinquished control over her jaw.  Peering down at his enthusiastic
fledgling, he murmured, "That will be enough for now, Alicia." He grabbed a
handful of Naomi's hair, and forced her head back to peer curiously into
her watery, bloodshot eyes.  Another half smile twisted his lips as he
noticed that his thrusting pelvis had bloodied her nose.  Without another
word, Arthur turned and dragged the struggling, whimpering woman into the
bedroom.  At the side of the larger than king sized bed, he effortlessly
lifted the squealing woman by her hair from the floor and tossed her onto
the mattress.  She immediately scrambled to the bed's center, clutching her
knees protectively to her chest as she stared at him with fear and
loathing.

   Naomi's eyes never left Arthur as he removed his pants and folded them
carefully over one of the chairs in the room.  When he returned to the bed,
she attempted to avoid his grasping hands, but he was just too fast. 
Gripping her ankles tightly, he pulled her toward him until her hips were
flush with the edge of the bed.  His cock sank effortlessly into her cunt,
still moist from the pleasure that Alicia had forced upon her.  She sobbed
weakly as he plunged rapidly in and out of her depths.

   Arthur twisted around to look at Alicia.  "You may resume," he said
perfunctorily as he gestured toward Naomi's breasts, which jiggled with
each of his thrusts.

   In the manner of a cat stalking a mouse, Alicia crawled onto the bed. 
For a moment she hovered over the woman's quivering chest, licking her lips
lasciviously as she delighted in the scent of Naomi's terror.  Then, in a
frenzy, Alicia lunged downwards, sinking her fangs into the tender flesh of
Naomi's breasts again and again.

   As Naomi cried out in pain and pleasure, Arthur narrowed his eyes in
concentration.  A forlorn whimper came from Naomi's lips as she felt
something thin and wormlike begin thrashing around in the deepest part of
her vaginal canal.  The whimper rose in pitch and became a scream as the
tendril located the tiny entrance of her cervix and burrowed its way
inside.

   Once Arthur had fully penetrated the narrow entrance to Naomi's womb, he
focused his will to return his cock to its former thickness while retaining
its current length.  As her cervical passage was forced open, Naomi
screamed in agony, agony that was not mitigated in the slightest by the
involuntary orgasms that Alicia continued to inflict upon her.

   Arthur fucked the sobbing, whimpering Naomi with long, rapid strokes,
the head of his greatly lengthened erection forcing its way into her womb
with every thrust.  The heady scent of her suffering soon brought him to
the brink and he ground his loins against her upheld thighs as he erupted
directly into her womb.

   As soon as his climax faded, Arthur tore himself abruptly from Naomi's
channel, prompting her to scream yet again.  Arthur dismissed Alicia with a
gesture and then bent and whispered in Naomi's ear, "When morning comes, I
want you to tell the world that an evil stalks the night.  An evil that
glories in their pain and their fear and their suffering.  An evil that
lives by consuming their lives and which has no regard for mortal status,
wealth or position.  Tell them that no one is safe; that, in our eyes, all
of you are merely cattle to be consumed and cast aside.  Tell them this,
Naomi, or I will return for you, and next time I will not be so gentle."

   Arthur quickly dressed before returning to the bathroom for the make-up
artist's body.  As he dragged the corpse through the bedroom, he noted with
satisfaction that Naomi had curled into a sobbing fetal ball on the bed. 
She would remember, Arthur knew, and she would obey.  He began to exit the
room but suddenly stopped and turned to regard Naomi with narrowed eyes. 
"One more thing, Naomi.  Tell them that my name is Arthur, and that I am
not as easy to kill as the pathetic constabulary of this city had hoped."

   Exiting the suite, he casually tossed Tricia's body down the stairs
before jamming the steel stairwell door closed with an axe taken from an
emergency locker in the hall.  It would not long deter anyone who was able
to apply reason, but it would likely keep ferals off this floor.  He then
led Alicia to the elevator.  As they descended through the building, he
could feel little bubbles of primitive emotions form in his mind as the
first of his ferals awoke.  From the expression on Alicia's face and the
feel of her through their bond, he knew that she was experiencing the same.
Tonight there would be no attempt to bring them under control; left to
their own devices, they would serve his purpose perfectly.

   As they walked through the lobby, inhabited at this hour by only a few
oblivious hotel staff and several guests who had been out for a late night
on the town, Arthur slowed and then stopped.  With the ferals already
rising, there was no longer any reason to avoid drawing attention to the
hotel.  Quite the opposite in fact; if the place escaped notice until dawn,
the impact would be much reduced.  He began to draw looks from the staff as
he stared back and forth between them, his lips pursed in contemplation as
he decided their fate.  On some level, even their bored and tired minds
could sense the menace and malice of his intent.

   There was no point in turning these few who remained into ferals, Arthur
decided, dawn would come well before they could rise.  Arthur suddenly
recalled another of Lei's children who had walked the earth centuries
before Arthur had received the Gift.  One who had followed a similar path
to that which Arthur was on now and who had devised a unique method of
sowing fear among his enemies.  A method that had been so effective that
his name still lived on in dark myth and legend.  Yes, Arthur decided, it
would only be fitting to pay homage to his Wallachian brother as humanity
was again forced to acknowledge the terrifying reality that his kind walked
among them.

   Moments later the silence of the lobby was broken by agonized screams
and cries for mercy.  The screams continued on until well after Arthur and
his fledgling had departed.

   Chapter 22

   When Mia and Tom arrived at the hotel, they found the place completely
surrounded by black and whites.  Behind each of the vehicles, cops with
wide, frightened eyes squatted with their guns drawn.  Several portable
spotlights had been brought to the scene and their bright beams traced back
and forth across every face of the historic building.  As Tom and Mia drew
close, they could see that a bullet ridden body was lying on the sidewalk
in front of the shattered hotel entryway.

   In a combat crouch, Tom ran from the car to the side of the nearest
police officer.  Mia, remaining upright, followed at a far more sedate
pace, her eyes roving up and down the besieged building.

   Tom asked the officer, whose name tag proclaimed him to be "Rudowski,"
"What's the situation?"

   "Fucked if I know," Rudowski replied, his eyes never looking away from
the darkened hotel entrance, "We got a garbled radio message from some
patrolmen who had noticed that the lights were out in the lobby.  They
entered and reported some pretty horrible shit.  There were some shouts,
some gunfire, some screams, and then nothing."

   "Okay," Tom replied as he nodded toward the body on the sidewalk,
"What's the story on that guy?  Who shot him?"

   "That would be us, sir," Rudowski answered, "Problem is the bastard
won't stay down."

   Before Tom could ask another question, Mia crouched down next to him
and, in a hushed voice, said, "The place is teeming with ferals.  Hundreds
of them.  Their hunger is nearly overwhelming.  But, I can also sense fear.
There are still some survivors inside."

   There was a sudden flurry of activity as the body on the sidewalk began
to twitch and then rose to its knees.  Its face was that of an average,
middle aged man, but it looked around at the surrounding officers with a
snarl of hatred and rage, its lips pulled back to reveal elongated canines.
Immediately, gunfire broke out from across the line of police.  The feral's
body jerked violently as bullets tore through its flesh while stray shots
added to the damage that previous fusillades had inflicted upon the hotel
entryway.  The gunfire slowed and then ceased as clips were depleted and
the feral's body again slumped to the sidewalk.

   The undead had only been motionless for seconds when all eyes went
upwards at the sound of something heavy striking glass.  On roughly the
fifteenth floor, Tom could see one of the windows vibrate as someone or
something struck it repeatedly from within.  As they watched, the window
cracked and then shattered; shards of glass arching down to tinkle upon the
pavement.  A man's face appeared in the window and, in a voice filled with
horror, he shouted out for help before turning to face back into the room.
A lost and forlorn cry echoed out into the night as the man launched
himself from the opening.  In the intense beams of the spotlights which had
converged on the plummeting figure, Tom could see that the terror in the
man's features actually faded as he hurtled toward the pavement far below.

   Before the jumper had reached the sharp, sudden and fatal stop that
awaited him, two more forms launched themselves out from the building. 
Unlike the first man, these two showed no sign of fear.  Rather, their
limbs twisted and their mouths opened and closed spasmodically as they
continued to strive to reach the quarry that had resorted to such desperate
means to escape them.

   The sickening thuds of flesh striking concrete had not yet faded when
the two pushed themselves up from the ground.  As they rose, the massive
but bloodless lacerations that they had sustained in the fall closed shut
and their bent and broken limbs straightened as shattered bones popped back
into place.  Again the air was rent by the crack of small arms fire and the
figures were thrown to the ground by the impact of dozens, if not hundreds,
of bullets.

   Tom ran back to his car to retrieve his crossbow; in his confidence that
the crisis had been brought to an end, he hadn't bothered replacing the
improvised spears that been lost in the battle the night before.  He loaded
it as he ran in close enough to the downed ferals to be certain of a lethal
hit even with his meager skills.  He had fired bolts deeply into the chests
of the two vampiric jumpers when a shout warned him that the feral by the
entrance was rising again.  Tom scrambled backwards to clear the fields of
fire of his fellow policemen.  When the feral had again been put down by a
hail of bullets, Tom sprinted forward and fired a bolt into its chest from
point blank range to make certain that, this time, it would stay dead.

   Returning to Rudowski and Mia's side, Tom appropriated the officer's
radio and called out for his team to assemble at his location.  Within
minutes, all seven of the team members who were still healthy enough to
fight had gathered around him.  Tom knew that he could easily bolster the
thin ranks with volunteers from the large force that surrounded the hotel,
but, without appropriate weapons, they could only be a liability.  With
this in mind, he ordered that all but his team stay outside the hotel.

   When his men had readied their weapons, he led them forward toward the
hotel entrance.  Even with Mia's assistance, he knew that their odds
weren't good, but, with survivors still remaining in the building, they had
to try.

   At the entrance, they stopped for a few seconds while Mia probed ahead
with her extended senses.  When she announced that the lobby was clear of
ferals, they moved forward cautiously.  Each of their steps produced loud
crunching sounds as they ground bits of lead crystal from the fallen and
broken chandeliers beneath their feet.  They had only penetrated a few
yards when they heard the crunch of glass behind them.

   Turning, Tom saw that at least thirty uniformed officers had followed
them in.  Before Tom could protest, one of them said, "Look lieutenant, we
know you told us to stay out of here, but you're going to get your asses
kicked with only nine of you." Brandishing his sidearm, he added, "We might
not be able to kill these things, but we can knock them down while you do."

   Tom reluctantly admitted that the man was right and gratefully accepted
the help.

   The group had penetrated a few yards farther into the darkened ruins of
the lobby when a number of the officers turned on their flashlights and
shined the beams around the cavernous room.  What the light revealed made
Tom's mind go numb with horror.  The central lobby had previously been
surrounded by elegant wooden railings, but the handrails had been torn off
and the majority of the posts, which were thick in the middle and tapered
to a point at each end, had been broken loose.  On each of the posts that
remained a body had been impaled, some face up, some face down and some
sitting unnaturally erect.  Almost all wore the colonial era costumes of
hotel staff.

   While those that were vertical had obviously died as the act was carried
out, the bloody hand prints on the posts that jutted through the bodies of
those who were horizontal showed that they had continued to live for some
time.  In many cases, there was evidence that they had died at the fangs
and hands of ferals rather than as a direct result of being impaled.

   Tom's team dispersed to check for life signs, but each of the men who
leaned down to touch a finger to a throat or wrist straightened quickly
with a sharp shake of the head.  What had been done here was an
abomination, but Tom knew that they couldn't linger when there might still
be living people above them.  As it was apparent that nothing could be done
for any of these hapless men and women, Tom motioned for his team to move
on.  With a few hastily muttered prayers, his group followed closely behind
him.  Only Mia stayed behind.  She walked quickly around the edge of the
lobby and gathered up the posts that had been knocked loose.

   Retaining two for herself, she distributed the rest among the police
officers with a muttered, "In case they should get too close."

   Once they had reached one of the stairwells, Mia pulled Tom aside.  "I
think our best hope of clearing this place is to split the group in two,
and send one to each stairwell," she told him, "Give me a radio.  I'll
clear each floor and call you when I'm done.  Then, each group can move up
to make sure nothing slips down the stairs behind us."

   Seeing the concern in his face, Mia said reassuringly, "I'll be fine. 
If I run into a group that I can't handle, I promise that I'll call you on
the radio.  Any other way and you're going to lose some men, maybe a lot of
men.  Trust me on this."

   His worries undiminished, Tom nevertheless nodded his agreement.  As Mia
ran up the steps, he deployed the men as she had suggested.

   Well over an hour later, Mia loped down the hallway of the seventeenth
floor.  The sleeves of her sweatshirt had been torn off and there were
long, bloody rents in her remaining clothing.  The railing posts, now worn
and splintered at the tips, were tucked into the back of her waistband. 
While she used them to deal the final blow to her fallen opponents, she
preferred to do the actual fighting with the claws of her changed hands and
the four inch chitinous spikes that now extended from her elbows.

   On the lower floors, almost half of the ferals had still been sealed in
the rooms in which they had been created; their simple minds unable to
grasp the concept of a door knob.  The higher she went, though, the more
she found doors that had been torn from their hinges, split in half or,
more rarely, shattered into splinters.  Many of the doors were broken
inwards, having failed to protect those who had huddled fearfully behind
them.

   She was grateful that there were far fewer ferals on the upper floors;
the rooms and suites here were much larger and had contained fewer people.
There was no way she would have been able to sustain the efforts that had
been required below; the seemingly endless battles and the wounds she had
suffered had taken their toll.  She was moving much slower now, and
maintaining the changes that she had made to herself, a normally effortless
exercise, took constant concentration.

   Mia rounded a corner and saw four ferals ahead of her, beating and
scraping at one of the few intact doors.  Pushing herself to the edge of
her current limits, she was amongst them before they could react to her
presence.  She lashed out with her claws and two of the ferals stumbled
backwards, eviscerated.  Dropping to a knee, she drove her arm back and
felt the spike on her elbow cut through another's diaphragm and lower
sternum to bite into its heart.  As she pulled the spike free, the last
uninjured feral lashed out at her.  She tried to avoid the flailing arm,
but she was too slow and staggered backwards as the blow landed heavily on
the side of her head.  While she was still reeling, it bent over double and
rushed at her, slamming her into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster
as it encircled her with arms like steel bands to pin her in place.

   Pleasure and pain pulsed through her as the beast started to gnaw at her
stomach.  With great effort she ripped her hands free of its encircling
grasp and, after lifting her arms above her head, drove the spikes on her
elbows down into its back and through its ribcage.  Her aim was thrown off
by an orgasmic spasm; instead of hitting the heart, the spikes only punched
into its lungs.  She rotated her arms to shred the delicate organs, but the
feral was barely inconvenienced; although she and Arthur had continued to
breathe after the Gift, it was more for the purpose of speech and out of
the ingrained habits of mortal life than because of any actual need.

   The front of her jeans became sodden with her own blood as the
creature's teeth tore ever deeper into her flesh.  In the fringes of her
dimming vision, she could see the ones that she had disemboweled regaining
their feet, their heads twisting to fix ravenous gazes upon her.  Pulling
the spikes free, she drove her knee sharply upwards.  She heard the feral's
ribs crack under the force of her blow, but it retained its hold on her. 
Desperate now, she slashed at its armpits and shoulders with her claws,
tearing through muscle and tendon alike.  Finally, its hold slackened and
she was able to reach the posts tucked into the back of her pants.

   She thrust one of the posts down through the back, ribs and heart of the
one who still held on to her tenaciously.  As it fell to the floor, she
lunged to the side to impale one of the ferals that she had eviscerated
earlier, leaving only one left standing.  As it ran at her with arms
outstretched, she dropped to the floor and swept out her leg, knocking it
from its feet.  Before it could recover, she pounced and grabbed it by the
chin and the back of its head.  With a twist, she snapped its neck,
immobilizing it at least for the moment.  Crawling back to the two that
were truly dead, she pulled her posts free and used them made certain that
none of the ferals would ever rise again.

   The battle over, she slumped against the wall, waiting for the final
orgasmic spasms induced by the bites to her stomach to fade.  Her
concentration faltered, and the claws and spikes of her changed limbs
receded and vanished.  She tried to restore the changes, but could not. 
After several minutes, she pushed herself laboriously to her feet and
stumbled to the door that the ferals had been so eager to breach.  She
tried to extend her senses through it, but only succeeded in causing
herself mild vertigo.  Holding her hand to the lock plate, she concentrated
and, after several minutes of strenuous effort, was rewarded by the sound
of the bolt disengaging.

   She wondered if there were actually survivors in this suite.  There had
been so few so far.  Although it had been evident that more than a few
people had been left alive on each floor, most had succumbed quickly to the
ferals.  She pushed the door open and tried to call out, but all that
emerged was a feeble croak.  In the single bedroom of the suite she found a
man cowered against the wall farthest from the door.  The scent of his fear
permeated the room so strongly that it made Mia salivate and reminded her
of just how bland and unsatisfying the blood and life of the pig had been.
She waved for him to leave, but his only reaction was to curl into a
tighter ball.

   The sound of his racing heartbeat thundered in her ears, having an
almost hypnotic effect on her.  She stumbled toward him for a few steps
before she could make herself stop.  What was she doing?  She had as much
as promised Tom that she would now live only on animals.  That promise had,
in a sense, been the price of her redemption.  It had enabled her to leave
her old life of suffering and hatred behind to be reborn into a new
existence filled with far gentler emotions.  Could Tom's feelings for her
withstand the disappointment he would feel if he knew that she had given in
to the hunger and taken another human life?  She had her doubts.

   But, a darker side of her argued, unless she fed, she could not fight
again tonight, and more lives than one might depend on her ability to do
so. Besides, with all the carnage in the hotel, no one need ever know that
this one man hadn't been drained by whoever had created the ferals or the
ferals themselves.

   As she struggled to hold her hunger at bay, her eyes locked on his
throat and the throbbing of his carotids.  She moaned weakly as he exuded a
fresh waft of fear scent that assailed her senses.  She could hear the
man's heart began to race even faster as her fangs slid into place.

   Chapter 23

   The following morning, Tom struggled out of bed at eleven.  Limping his
way to the bathroom, he looked with dismay at his reflection in the mirror.
The lack of sleep and unusual levels of physical exertion were beginning to
show; there were large, dark circles under his eyes, his skin had a rather
unhealthy pallor and the lines around his eyes and mouth looked deeper than
ever.  Looking closer, he thought he could even see a little more grey in
his hair than he remembered.  All in all, he decided, he looked exactly how
he felt, haggard and worn out.

   They hadn't finished clearing the William Penn Hotel until barely a half
hour before dawn.  Although it would probably be more fair to say that Mia
hadn't finished clearing it until then.  Combined, his two groups of police
officers had only taken down a total of three ferals after they had started
their ascent of the hotel.

   By the time they had finished, a crew led by Chief Jacobs himself was
clearing the bodies from the lobby.  After a few words, the Chief had
released Tom and Mia to go home before the sun breached the horizon.  The
Chief had insisted, however, that Tom be in his office at noon.

   Tom showered quickly and returned to his bedroom to dress and check on
Mia.  He couldn't help but worry about her; based on the state of her
clothing at the end of the night, the ferals had given her quite a beating.
After she had fallen dormant into his arms mere seconds after they had
entered the apartment, he had stripped the rags from her body and wiped the
dried and crusted blood and gore from her with a sponge.  Her skin, of
course, had shown no signs of damage, but the fact that she had not
bothered to repair or clean her clothing spoke volumes about what the night
had cost her.  Her demeanor had been decidedly different, as well.  As they
exited the building and drove home, she had been subdued and withdrawn,
staring down at the floor of the car in sullen silence.  He decided that he
would have to give Peter a call during the day to see if there would be an
animal available tonight.

   For all that the night had cost her, the returns had been so small.  Out
of more than a thousand guests and staff, only nine survivors had been
recovered and one of those, found in the Presidential Suite, had been
completely catatonic.  Idly, he wondered if they should have just waited
for the sun to do the work for them.  But no, in that scenario there
wouldn't have been anyone left alive in the hotel and even if nine was
horrifyingly disappointing, it was still better than none.

   After making certain that Mia was well covered, Tom drove to the
station. When Tom arrived, Chief Jacobs was sitting at his desk with a
cigarette dangling from his lips, tapping slowly at his keyboard with a
single finger.  His desk was littered with a badly stained, mostly empty
coffee mug, a pizza delivery box and, despite the no smoking signs
displayed prominently throughout the building, an overflowing ashtray.  The
Chief looked up from his computer monitor when Tom rapped softly on the
door frame and, stubbing his latest butt out in the ashtray, motioned Tom
in.

   Without preamble, the Chief waved a remote control toward a small
television and DVR that were precariously balanced on one of the chairs in
the room and said, "This went out on every NBC affiliate first thing this
morning."

   The video showed a number of people racing down a hotel hallway towards
whoever was holding the camera.  As they drew near, the cameraman
apparently realized the danger he was in.  The picture shifted as the man
rotated the camera to face behind him and then bounced violently as he
started running for his life.  The video was still clear enough to show his
pursuers, their lips peeled back from long, sharp teeth, overtaking him.  A
grasping hand filled the screen and then the picture went black.

   "That's all they showed on tv," the Chief commented, "but the unedited
footage is all over the internet."

   Chief Jacobs twisted his computer monitor around until it was facing Tom
and pushed a few keys on the keyboard.  The Chief had cued the clip so that
the raw footage picked up where the broadcast version had cut off.  The
picture was chaotic as the camera spun down the hallway floor but grew
steady as the camera settled on its side.  The people, a prominent Fox News
reporter among them, were holding the helpless cameraman to the floor,
tearing at him with hands and teeth as their hips humped convulsively. 
They continued to bite into him over and over again even after his
struggles had ceased.  When the ferals finally rose and ran off screen, the
time index in the bottom corner of the video sped up and, for a few
seconds, the video showed only an occasional blur of legs running past. 
The time index then slowed to normal speed as a pair of very feminine legs
appeared on the screen.  The legs, which were moving inhumanly fast, slowed
very slightly as they passed the cameraman's body and then bent as the
figure drove a railing post through the body's heart.  The post was torn
free and the woman continued off screen.  Tom was grateful that Mia hadn't
stooped low enough for the camera to catch her face.

   Turning again toward the television, the Chief pushed a few buttons on
the remote as he said, "This went out on CNN and a number of associated
channels."

   Unlike the first, this clip had audio.  It started with the cameraman
complaining about all the noise and promising to show what reporters really
did after hours.  The picture shifted back and forth as the camera was
carried at hip level out into the hallway.  After a whispered, "What the
fuck...," the camera was lifted to a shoulder and showed several doors
shuddering under thunderous blows from within.  With a loud crack one of
the doors burst outward in a shower of splinters.  Two men and a woman, all
three naked, leapt out into the hallway and one of the men threw back his
head to scream with primal rage, an act which revealed his fangs.  Tom
couldn't recall the woman's name, but he recognized her from one of the
morning news shows.  The clip quickly came to an end very similar to that
of the first.

   The Chief leaned back and rubbed his temples with a sigh, "I suppose
we're lucky that these were the only two cameramen who established a
satellite uplink before they started filming.  A number of other cameras
were recovered from the building when we started to clean-up this morning.
Their owners are clamoring for us to release their property, but I've been
holding them off with claims that we need to retain all evidence of the
crimes that occurred until the investigation is complete."

   The Chief tilted his head up to look at Tom with grim, bloodshot eyes,
"There's even worse news.  All morning I've had a number of people at the
hotel counting bodies and looking over hotel records.  We're missing close
to two hundred people.  While I'm sure some of them just spent the night
elsewhere, that certainly doesn't account for all of them.  A lot of those
fucking monsters got loose before we got the building sealed off.  Once
outside, they apparently acted pretty much the same way as they did in
those video clips.  Fortunately, the streets are pretty empty in the wee
hours, but we've already had twenty-eight bodies show up, all pretty
gruesomely..."

   The Chief was interrupted by the ringing of the phone on his desk.  He
answered and listened for a few seconds before again waving the remote at
the television.  After the channel's "live, breaking news" preamble, a view
of a hospital room filled the screen.  Tom immediately recognized the
catatonic woman they had found in the Presidential Suite.  She was sitting
semireclined in the hospital bed, covered to her hips with a blanket and
wearing a hospital gown above.  Her face, which bore not a hint of makeup,
was pale and her hair was in wild disarray.  Uncontrollable shivers wracked
her body as she recounted what her attackers had done to her and her
assistants and recited the message that she had been given.  The more she
spoke, the farther Tom's jaw dropped in shock.

   When she was finished, Chief Jacobs turned to look questioningly at Tom.

   Tom shrugged helplessly in response, "I don't know what to tell you,
Denny.  The female attacker is almost certainly Alicia George, our missing
bartender.  I just can't believe that it was Arthur who was with her.  It
just isn't possible.  I saw Dana kill him.  Hell, I helped burn his body.
Mia confirmed that her bond is gone..."

   When Tom's voice died off into silence, the Chief pulled a pack of
Marlboro Reds from his shirt pocket and shook one out.

   As Denny groped his pockets looking for his lighter, Tom asked quietly,
"Got an extra one of those?"

   Denny shot him an curious look, "I thought you quit."

   "I did, but now seems like a really good time to start again."

   The men sat smoking in silence, both trying to come to grips with the
fact that the disaster that they thought had been averted was apparently
only beginning.  Before they had managed to do so, three men in suits
strode into the room, not bothering with the courtesy of knocking.

   The one in the lead waved his hand distastefully through the smoke that
hung in the air before speaking, "I'm Agent Roper, FBI." Gesturing in turn
to each of the men behind him, he continued, "This is Dr.  Nolan, CDC, and
Agent Keller, Homeland Security."

   Without giving Tom or Denny the opportunity to introduce themselves or
offering a handshake, Agent Roper went on, "With everyone calling their
loved ones, communications to and from this city are such a mess that you
probably haven't heard yet, but an hour ago the Governor of Pennsylvania
declared Pittsburgh to be an emergency disaster area and asked for federal
assistance.  After looking over the news reports, the President agreed.

   "Part of their agreement is that federal agencies will have complete
operational jurisdiction over all matters related to the emergency.  With
the assistance of several National Guard units, we have already placed
roadblocks on every access point to the city.  No one is to be allowed in
or out.  This city has been officially quarantined until we can bring the
outbreak under control."

   Sputtering, Tom interrupted, "Agent Roper, with all due respect, this
isn't a disease we're dealing with!  Haven't you been watching the news? 
There are vampires out there, and if you just treat them like they're
sick..."

   Agent Roper sneered at Tom with contempt, but it was Dr.  Nolan who
interrupted, "Officer, we are not living in the sixteenth century.  We do
not have time for ridiculous superstition.  While the disease may cause
delusions and certain physiological effects, it is most certainly only a
disease."

   Undeterred, Tom broke in, "No.  I know how crazy it sounds, but they are
vampires.  If you're going to have any chance of fighting them you..."

   Agent Roper cut him off, "Enough!  I understand that you've all had a
stressful night, but, if you persist, I will have you taken away for a
psych evaluation and fitness for duty exam.  Now, as I was saying, the
President does not want to destroy the local economy or deprive the people
of this city of essential goods and services.  However, given the massive
and sudden outbreak and the effects of the disease, it is apparent that the
disease must be contained at any cost.

   "Transfer points are being established at the checkpoints on each major
highway feeding into the city.  All commercial traffic carrying anything
but foodstuffs and medical supplies will be turned away.  Food and medicine
will be seized and transferred to decontaminated trucks operated by the
National Guard for transport into the city.  The food and drink will be
taken to multiple distribution points within the city.  Medicine will be
split among the city's hospitals.  Travel within the confines of the city
will be limited to the closest distribution point and the closest hospital.
All businesses will remain closed for the duration.

   "I will need whichever of you is the chief to give my men access to your
duty rosters and contact information.  All of your officers are relieved of
standard duties for the duration of the crisis.  Instead they will first
help spread word of the travel restrictions and distribution centers and
then they will assist us in enforcing the restrictions."

   Chief Jacobs glared at the federal agent, "And what, exactly, are you
planning on doing to anyone who defies the restrictions?"

   Agent Roper replied dispassionately, "They will be detained and confined
until such time as we develop an accurate test for the presence of the
disease.  Once they are proven to be disease free they will be released
with a fine.  A hefty fine."

   Still unwilling to concede, Tom broke in, "Expose them to sunlight.  If
they survive, they aren't vampires.  You should also just let anyone who is
trying to leave in daylight go, the fewer people there are in the..."

   Agent Roper again interrupted, "What's your name?"

   "Tom McNelly."

   Agent Roper pulled a scratch pad from his inner coat pocket and made a
show of writing down Tom's name, "Officer McNelly, you are hereby relieved
of duty until this crisis is over.  Please leave now and return to your
home.  Just so there is no mistake, you are subject to the same
restrictions and consequences for violating them as anyone else."

   Chief Jacobs' face had been growing increasing red with anger throughout
Agent Roper's speech and now he exploded, "Look, I don't know who you think
you are, but I have most of my men searching for the people that got out of
the hotel last night before we got the place secured.  That duty is so
important that I am not about to pull them from it to go around telling
people about your idiotic restrictions.  Furthermore, Tom is one of my best
detectives and I need him here..."

   Agent Roper, as calm as ever, cut the Chief off, "Make no mistake, Chief
Jacobs, the terms that I just gave you are not negotiable.  They are part
of a exhaustive plan designed by people much smarter than you to deal with
circumstances just like this.  As I mentioned earlier, federal agencies
have been given complete operational jurisdiction over this city.  That
means that your one and only duty from now until this situation has been
resolved is to cooperate with us and ensure that your people do likewise.
That is all."

   As abruptly as they had arrived, the feds left the room.  Denny and Tom
stared at each other for a minute before the Chief blew out a mouth full of
air and said quietly, "Well, they didn't say the words, but the city is now
under martial law.  They'll come to their senses eventually.  Federal
agents may be arrogant, but they aren't stupid.  In the meantime, I suggest
that you do what Roper told you to do.  I would hate to see you
indefinitely detained and confined."

   As Tom drove back to his apartment, he saw that there were already small
groups of soldiers, policemen and federal agents deploying throughout the
city.  Silently, he wished them luck.  Unless he missed his guess, they
would need it once night fell.

   A few blocks from his destination, he noticed a convenience store that
was still open; word of the new restrictions apparently hadn't spread
completely yet.  Tom stopped and bought a carton of cigarettes.

   Chapter 24

   Once back at his apartment, Tom had no idea what to do with himself. 
Part of him was relieved that all responsibility had been torn from his
shoulders, but, even more, he was worried that the feds, with their refusal
to accept the impossible truth, were really going to fuck things up and get
a lot of people killed.

   He rooted around in his kitchen drawers until he found a long abandoned
ashtray, and then, lighting a smoke, he settled on the couch to watch the
news.  The only thing new that he learned was that the feds weren't
implementing one plan, as Agent Roper had said, but a combination of two;
one designed for containment after a biological weapon attack and the other
designed to deal with a widespread dispersion of hallucinogenics, like PCP
or LSD.  Every federal authority that was interviewed persisted with the
view that this was merely the outbreak of a disease.

   Frustrated, Tom flicked the television off and unsealed and opened one
of his windows to peer outside.  It was obvious that the city's population
was attempting a mass exodus: every road in sight that could potentially
lead out of the city was jammed with cars, bikes, and pedestrians.  Even
from the great distance that lay between him and the first checkpoint, he
could hear the cries of anger and fear as all were turned back.  His vigil
was constantly interrupted by frequent telephone calls from friends and
coworkers who had heard of his ignominious suspension and wished to offer
words of sympathy.  He bore the first twenty or so with good humor, but,
eventually, was compelled to shut off his cell phone and turn the ringer
off on his land line.

   He watched his city devolve into chaos for more than an hour before he
could no longer bear it.  After resealing the window, he wandered back to
his bedroom to seek the comfort that Mia, even in her dormant state, could
offer.

   A number of hours later, his slumber was disturbed by a loud rapping at
his apartment door.  Grumbling, he rolled out of bed to go answer it.  He
was taken aback by the unexpected figure that greeted him when he pulled it
open.  He barely recognized her in jeans and a Pittsburgh PD t-shirt
instead of a uniform, and with her brunette hair, normally pulled tightly
back into a bun, falling in soft waves to her shoulders.

   "Hello, Dana," he greeted her, "I'm surprised to see you up and about."

   The pretty, young woman shifted nervously from foot to foot as she
timidly answered, "Hi, Tom.  The hospital discharged everyone who lives in
the city and isn't in critical condition to make room for the poor suckers
who got trapped here by our esteemed federal government.  Um, can I come
in?"

   Nonplused, Tom moved aside to allow her entrance.  He closed and locked
the door behind her and led her to the living room where he waved her
towards one of the chairs.

   "So, what brings you here?" he ventured.

   She was silent for a moment, and he could see a slight flush of
embarrassment appear on her face.  "I've always thought of myself as tough.
You have to be if you want to be a woman in blue.  But the other night, I
put a crossbow bolt right through that thing's throat and it didn't even
notice.  It just brushed me away like I was nothing more than a bug.  One
second I was fine and the next...  Well, I thought for sure I was going to
die." Dana's voice trailed off as she began to shiver.  Clutching her arms
tightly around her chest, she continued in a tiny voice, "I'm scared, Tom.
More afraid then I've ever been.  Even as a kid, I was never afraid of the
dark or monsters under the bed.  But now...  Now, I know that monsters are
real, and I just can't stop shaking.

   "I heard about what happened last night and I can see what's going on.
Every night the attacks get more daring, more vicious.  I have the feeling
that tonight is going to be bad.  All my family and friends live outside
the city and I don't want to be alone.  Not tonight.  I thought that the
safest place to be would be here, with Mia."

   Her eyes darted up to meet his and he could see them widen slightly as
she realized that she had made a possible faux pas.  "And you, of course,"
she added hastily.

   Tom couldn't help but laugh.  "It's ok, I would feel safer with Mia than
me, too," he replied reassuringly, "And, of course, you can stay here with
us."

   "Thanks, Tom," she said with a smile.

   Rising to his feet, Tom replied, "No problem.  Now, not to change the
subject, but I'm starving.  Shall I make enough for two?" Without waiting
for a response, he walked to the kitchen and began searching through his
fridge.

   "Sure, I could eat," Dana said as she rose to assist him.

   After they finished supper, which, thanks to Dana's help, was mostly
edible, Tom checked his watch and realized that the official sunset was
only minutes away.

   "Mia should be waking up pretty soon.  I'll be right back," he told
Dana.

   Tom was lying on his side next to Mia with his head propped up on a hand
when she came awake.  "Hey, you," he whispered softly as he leaned over to
give her a light kiss on the lips.

   "Hi," she replied with a strained smile.

   Rubbing a hand gently up and down her flank, Tom said worriedly, "I know
last night cost you a lot.  I had intended to call Peter today to get you
something to eat, but there's been a rather nasty development.  The feds
have closed off the city.  No one can get in or out.  I'm so sorry.  Are
you going to be ok?"

   "Yes, I'll be fine, but thanks for thinking about me," Mia replied, a
tinge of sorrow in her voice.  She was considering coming clean and telling
him that she had fed when his next words drove away all other thought.

   "Remember that woman you found in the Presidential Suite, the one that
was basically comatose?  Well, I truly hate to tell you this, but earlier
today she came to and said that it was Arthur who was responsible for all
that happened.  She said that he had left her alive to tell the world that
there were vampires among us, him in particular."

   Tom had known the news was bad, but he was still startled by the naked
fear that appeared on her face.  She flung herself into his arms and clung
to him fiercely.  For several minutes he held her close until her shivers
began to subside.

   Visibly steeling herself, Mia muttered into Tom's shoulder, "I knew he
had gone down too easily, but he can't still be alive.  The bond is gone! I
saw him die!  But...if he is, we have to go out and find him.  If we don't
fight..."

   "There are well armed men all over the city and they're the only ones
really allowed to be outside.  If we go out, we're just as likely to get
shot as he is," Tom interrupted, "As much as I hate to say it, we're
essentially prisoners in this apartment, at least for tonight.  Hopefully,
by tomorrow, they'll be ready to listen to reason."

   Mia sighed deeply, noticing as she did so that there was a hint of light
floral perfume in the air.  Pulling back from Tom's embrace, she asked, "Is
there someone else here?"

   "Oh.  Yeah.  I almost forgot.  Dana's out in the living room.  Poor
thing's scared to death and wanted to be near you in case things get ugly."

   Mia asked incredulously, "Me?"

   "That's what she said," Tom replied before adding mischievously, "I
guess that special moment the two of you shared made quite an impression on
her."

   Mia punched him lightly on the shoulder, "Pig.  Why don't you go keep
her company.  I'm going to take a quick shower and then I'll join you."

   Twenty minutes later, Mia, her hair hanging loose and damp around her
shoulders, walked into the living room in an oversized t-shirt and a pair
of Tom's sweat pants.  "I'm feeling a bit frumpy tonight," she said by way
of explanation when she saw Tom grin at her attire.

   Tom and Dana had unsealed and opened the living room window.  Tom sat on
the edge of the couch and peered out into the street, his crossbow loaded
and ready in his lap.  Dana sat nervously at the other end of the couch,
the scent of her fear mixing strangely with her flowery perfume.  Mia
greeted both with a hug and a smile.  As Mia plopped onto the couch between
them, the sound of automatic weapon fire echoed across the city.

   "I guess some of the escapees managed to find a place to hide for the
day," Tom commented glumly.

   For more than an hour, the three sat mostly in silence; the nearly
continuous crack of gunfire and the occasional scream forestalled any
potential conversation.  Tom and Dana had each taken one of Mia's hands,
their grips tightening each time the silence outside was broken.  A sudden
scream sounded from no farther than the end of the block.  Tom jumped up
and leaned out the window, bringing the crossbow to his shoulder as he
sought a target.  But, a dense fog shrouded the street and he could see
nothing through it.

   Dana twisted on the couch and buried her face in Mia's chest with a
whimper.  Mia looked down at the woman with astonishment; being perceived
as a source of comfort instead of fear felt decidedly odd.  Hesitantly, Mia
brought her arms up to encircle Dana, prompting the distraught woman to
clutch to Mia even more tightly.  It suddenly struck Mia just how young the
woman was; certainly no more than twenty or, maybe, a year older.  As Dana
continued to tremble in her arms, maternal instincts, which had never
before had the opportunity to be expressed, blossomed within Mia's chest.
She enfolded Dana more firmly into her embrace and laid her cheek upon the
top of the girl's head.  Mia whispered reassurances into the terrified
woman's ear and gently rubbed her back until Dana's shivers eased.

   Dana continued to press herself into Mia for a moment and then slowly
pulled back.  "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes averted in embarrassment.

   By way of response, Mia smiled softly and smoothed several wayward locks
of hair back from Dana's face with gentle fingers.  At Mia's touch, so
similar to that which Dana recalled from the time when she had laid wounded
on the wet, cold floor of the jail, the girl's brown eyes rose to meet
Mia's blue ones.

   Mia saw Dana's pupils dilate slightly before the girl darted forward to
press her lips lightly against Mia's.  Instantly, Dana retreated and peered
shyly at the other woman through lowered lashes.  When Mia made no
objection, Dana again brought her mouth to Mia's, moving much slower this
time, her lips parting slightly as she drew near.

   Mia returned the kiss gently while lightly probing Dana's surface
thoughts.  She discovered that the girl was reeling from witnessing so much
death over such a short period of time and from coming so close to that
state herself.  This overture was, at least in part, an act of defiance
against all that the girl had experienced in the past few days; a
refutation of death and an affirmation of life.  Mia also learned that,
ever since she had preserved the girl's life, Dana had come to see her as a
guardian; a bastion of safety in a world that had suddenly gone mad. 
Lastly, Mia learned that Dana had become fixated on the pleasure she had
experienced at the touch of Mia's tongue and the passion of the subsequent
kiss.  Dana believed that both were the product of some deep emotional tie
that she hadn't been able to acknowledge until that moment.  This belief
was so central to the girl's tenuous efforts to keep the overwhelming
terror she felt at bay, that Mia couldn't bring herself to disillusion her,
to tell her that it had only been a biochemical reaction initiated by a
property of vampiric saliva.  Mia also couldn't bring herself to refuse to
give Dana what she wanted.  As Dana's tongue brushed softly over her lips,
Mia admitted to herself that, even if she could, she wouldn't want to.

   Their kisses grew longer and more heated.  Dana shifted until she was
straddling Mia's hips.  As their tongues intertwined, Mia peeked over at
Tom out of the corner of her eye.  He was staring at them with open mouthed
astonishment.  His crossbow hung limply at his side, whatever lurked beyond
the window long forgotten.  The scent of his lust was so strong that Mia
had to suppress a giggle.  Mia again probed into Dana's mind and discovered
that she found Tom attractive, albeit a little old.  The attraction was
strong enough that she wouldn't object to his participation.

   Mia felt Dana's hand run lightly up her side before coming to rest
cupping one of her breasts.  Without breaking the kiss, Mia slid her hands
down to cup Dana's muscular buttocks and then stood.  Dana wrapped her legs
around Mia's waist as she was carried back to the bedroom.  Just before
they vanished from sight, Mia broke the kiss for an instant to beckon Tom
to follow with a wink and a small jerk of her head.  Again she had to
suppress a giggle at the look of eagerness that appeared on his face.

   Mia put Dana on her feet at the side of the bed and the two feverishly
pulled the clothes from the other's body, breaking their kiss only to pull
the shirts off over their heads.  Once they were nude, Mia eased Dana down
to the bed.  Dana sighed and cooed as Mia licked and nibbled her way down
the girl's body, lingering for a long moment on the small breasts and the
hard, brown nipples that capped them.  As Mia resumed her descent, kissing
a path down Dana's toned stomach, the girl parted her legs widely in eager
anticipation.

   When Mia reached the juncture of Dana's thighs, she regarded the girl's
sex with avid interest.  It was absolutely beautiful, Mia decided, with
thick, puffy labial lips that were the lightest shade of pink at the edges
but grew darker in color closer to the center.  At the top, the tiniest
button of a clit, an even lighter shade of pink than the edges of the
labia, peaked ever-so-slightly from its hood.  The lips were parted with
arousal and the whole glistened wetly.  The scent of the girl's excitement
was strong in the air, and Mia could feel herself growing increasingly
moist in response.

   Experimentally, Mia ran her tongue between the lips of Dana's pussy,
getting her first taste of this part of another woman.  To her delight,
Dana was delicious.  With a soft moan, Mia dove in with wild abandon,
licking and sucking the juices from the lips before delving her tongue deep
inside Dana's tight tunnel.  Dana threw back her head with a guttural moan
as Mia's tongue grew within her, filling her as completely as any cock she
had ever experienced.  Except that a cock had never wriggled around in her
depths, lovingly caressing every inner surface, ridge and fold.

   As Mia continued to plumb Dana's depths, she felt Tom's hands on her
hips, urging her upwards.  She eagerly complied and was rewarded by the
touch of his tongue and lips to her clit.  After Dana had moaned her way
through several orgasms, her tight pussy squeezing tightly down on the
tongue that penetrated her so completely, Mia changed her tongue back to
normal size and crawled up Dana's body.  On the way, she reveled in the
sensuous feeling of a woman's soft skin sliding against her own.  When Mia
reached her destination, Dana fervently pressed her lips to Mia's, her
tongue darting out to lap her own juices from Mia's face.

   The kiss went on and on, until Dana pulled back.  Panting with lust, she
whispered, "I want to taste you now."

   At the other woman's urging, Mia willingly rolled over onto her back. 
As Dana started to follow Mia's lead by kissing her way down Mia's body,
Mia stopped her with a gentle touch



   "Turn around the other way, so I can keep tasting you," she murmured.

   Her eyes gleaming with excitement, Dana quickly straddled Mia's head and
then leaned forward.  She ran her finger up and down the length of Mia's
slit a few times, marveling at the incredibly silky smooth feel of the
other woman's sex, before lowering her head to take Mia's clit between her
lips.  Unlike Mia, this was not the first time that Dana had tasted the
essence of another woman, but familiarity did not diminish her enjoyment.

   Mia peeked over the firm, tight globes of Dana's ass cheeks and saw that
Tom, now naked, was sitting on the edge of the bed watching the scene with
lust glazed eyes.  It was obvious that he wanted to join in, but, at the
same time, didn't want to disturb the erotic visage before him.  She
beckoned him with a finger and, when he leaned close, curled a hand around
his neck to pull him in for a kiss.  She then gently guided his head until
he was facing Dana's dripping sex.

   "Isn't she beautiful?" Mia whispered.

   "Mmmhmmm," Tom replied blissfully.

   "Taste her," Mia commanded softly.

   Tom eased his head forward until he could run his tongue between the
soft, swollen lips of Dana's pussy, lapping up the copious juices.

   "Isn't she delicious?" Mia asked, before hastily adding, "Don't answer,
just keep licking."

   As Tom eagerly complied, Mia again caused her tongue to lengthen until
she could reach Dana's clit with the tip.  She flicked her tongue rapidly
but lightly over the tiny button as Tom continued to lap at Dana's lips and
swirl his tongue just inside the entrance of her pussy.  Under their dual
assault, Dana quivered and shook continuously, loudly moaning out in
pleasure.  When the girl could take no more, Tom disengaged and twisted his
head until he could suck the end of Mia's tongue into his mouth.  He
continued to suck gently as Mia reversed the change, following the
shortening appendage down until his lips met hers.

   Mia kissed him passionately for a moment, and then breathily instructed,
"Give it to her.  She needs it." With a languorous smile she added, "But
you better save some for me."

   Tom straightened and positioned himself behind the girl, straddling
Mia's head.  He watched as Mia slowly pumped two fingers deeply into Dana's
pussy.  She withdrew them slowly and spread them, opening Dana's lips wide
to obscenely expose the wet, pink entrance at their center.  With her other
hand, she grasped Tom's throbbing erection and guided it forward until the
head vanished between the widely splayed lips.

   Mia withdrew her hands and ran them along the outside of Tom's thighs to
his ass.  There, she applied gentle pressure, urging him forward.  Tom
needed no such encouragement.  With a deep sigh of pleasure, he drove
slowly but relentlessly into the incredibly tight, hot depths of Dana's
cunt until his loins met the prettily upthrust cheeks of her ass.  He held
himself there for a few seconds, and then quickly settled into a steady
rhythm.

   Dana threw her head back with a groan.  "Oh God!" she cried out, "I
haven't had a cock in so long!  Fuck me harder!  Deeper!"

   From below the point of their union, Mia watched excitedly as her
lover's member plunged rapidly in and out of Dana's clenching tunnel.  For
the third time that night, she caused her tongue to change and it snaked
out to alternately flick over Dana's clit and curl around the place of
their joining to collect the sweet mixture of Dana's juices and Tom's
pre-seminal fluid.  After each such foray, she pulled her tongue back into
her mouth to suck it clean

   This continued for quite some time, until Mia's eyes widened as a
naughty idea occurred to her.  As her tongue curled again around Dana's
labial lips and the base of Tom's cock, it suddenly grew thinner, wider and
longer and then dove into the girl along the underside of Tom's manhood. 
Mia's tongue rippled continuously with change as she varied its length to
move it in and out of Dana's pussy in counterpoint to Tom's thrusts.  Tom
moaned deeply as Mia's tongue squeezed into the already tight tunnel below
his driving length, its tip flicking up over the head of his cock each time
the two passed each other in Dana's depths.  Dana's head came up as she let
out a delighted squeal.  Her tunnel immediately began to contract
rhythmically around the two invaders as she was lost in the throes of yet
another orgasm.

   It took only a few minutes of this before Mia felt Tom's cock seemingly
become harder along the top of her tongue and saw his balls tighten. 
Seconds later, Tom erupted, shooting spurt after spurt of his hot seed deep
inside Dana's quivering body.  Panting, he gripped the girl's hips tightly
as he held himself motionless in her depths.  Small shivers passed through
his body as Mia's tongue continued to slide up and down the underside of
his hypersensitized cock.

   With a deep, contented sigh, he finally withdrew and collapsed on the
bed alongside Mia.  The second he was free, Mia raised her head to bring
her lips to Dana's pussy.  Her elongated tongue continued to plumb the
girl's depths, lapping up her lover's cum.  When she, too, withdrew, Dana,
no longer burdened by distractions, returned to her own task with a
vengeance, sucking lightly on Mia's clit while driving a finger deeply into
Mia's wet pussy.  It was only a matter of minutes before Mia cried out with
her own release.

   Dana turned around and lowered herself to the bed on the opposite side
of Mia from Tom.  "Wow," she said dreamily, "that was one of the weirdest
and best things that I have ever felt."



   The trio rested for a few minutes while enjoying a soft three way kiss
and then Mia pushed Tom over onto his back.  She lowered her head to his
hips and took his mostly soft cock into her mouth, savoring the flavor of
the juices that still coated it even as she did her best to bring it back
to life.  With a light giggle, Dana crawled over to assist her by flicking
the end of her tongue over his balls.  Their efforts soon paid off and Mia
felt his manhood become longer, thicker and harder until it filled her
mouth.

   Mia popped Tom's cock from her mouth with a final wet slurp and
swivelled around to mount him.  Dana scrambled out of the way to give Mia
room.  Once Mia had her lover's cock buried deeply within her, Dana slid
back in close to suck on Mia's nipples and gently rub a finger around her
clit.

   Mia rode Tom long and slow.  With Dana's eager assistance, her body had
quivered through several drawn out orgasms before she felt liquid warmth
splashing against the walls of her pussy as Tom reached his climax.  She
laid down on top of him, her eyes twinkling with merriment at the look of
exhausted ecstacy on his face.  They kissed deeply for a moment before they
each extended an arm to Dana to invite her to join in their embrace.  The
three cuddled and caressed each other laguidly until Mia rolled off of Tom
and onto her back.  With a happy sigh, she wrapped an arm loosely around
each of her lovers as they nestled up against her from either side.

   Chapter 25

   Arthur came awake with a shudder.  The throbbing of his head and the
malaise that gripped his body brought back dim recollections of the
hangovers he had suffered as a mortal.  He had nearly made a grievous error
the previous night.  The emotional feedback from his bond to hundreds of
ferals had very nearly overwhelmed him.  In fact, he almost certainly would
have succumbed to the rage, hate and, above all else, hunger that had beat
relentlessly at his mind, if the ferals had not started to die off rapidly.
Such a complete loss of control, the extinction of intellect and reason,
could have been more than simply dangerous.  Even now he could feel that
rage, that hunger, begin to pulse anew as his remaining ferals rose to hunt
again.  They were mercifully few now, certainly well less than a hundred.
This he could endure.

   Throwing back the tarp that now served as his final protection against
the sun, he pushed himself shakily from the dingy basement floor.  He
decided that he would soon need to replace the caskets that had been lost
in the aftermath of his first battle with the authorities; his current
sleeping arrangements were...undignified.

   With something akin to guilt, Arthur examined his bond to Alicia which
revealed that she, much like himself, was experiencing some pain and that
she was desperately struggling to resist the primal emotions which were
even now assailing her rational mind.  Last night, his fledgling had not
been strong enough to resist the seductive call of the ferals and had
reverted to a primitive beast-like state.  Keeping her under control while
fighting tenaciously to hold on to his own sanity had proven to be most
difficult.

   He pulled the tarp back from her body, but she continued to lie
motionless, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.  He stood gazing at her for a
long moment.  She had again pleasantly surprised him during the carnage of
the night before.  It seemed that she enjoyed causing pain even more than
receiving it.  Even he had been impressed with the imaginative ways in
which she had inflicted suffering upon their victims in the exceedingly
short time that they could spare on any single individual.

   Finally, he bent to brush the hair back from her face with a gentle
finger, "Alicia?"

   With a whimper, she whined, "I can still feel them, Master.  I don't
want to lose myself again."

   Unexpectedly, pity welled up from some long forgotten corner of Arthur's
soul.  "Sit up, child," he told her softly as he lowered himself to sit on
the floor next to her.  "I want you to focus on a single knot of emotions
to the exclusion of all else and then repeat after me."

   Over the next hour, he guided her repeatedly through the cantrip with
which Lei had gifted him until Alicia had passed the bonds of forty ferals
to him.  Gritting his teeth against the added strain to his psyche, he
cursed Lei under his breath for not passing him the knowledge to simply
release a fledgling from the bond.



   Refocusing his thoughts on Alicia, he asked, "Is that better?"

   "Yes, Master.  Thank you," she replied.  The rush of gratitude and
devotion that coursed through the bond between them threatened to overwhelm
him as all of the rage and hate of the ferals could not.

   "Good," he answered cooly as he rose rapidly to his feet, "lets go
upstairs and find out how our efforts have paid off."

   The mercenaries had thoughtfully recorded various portions of the day's
news that they thought he would find interesting.  Arthur delighted at the
helicopter views of the traffic snarls caused by thousands of people trying
to flee the city only to be turned back to their homes or, in the case of
the unfortunate commuters, the temporary shelters being provided by
churches, hotels, universities and hospitals.  He rejoiced at the video
clips of his ferals wreaking havoc at the hotel.  He noted with glee that,
despite the official assurances that a disease was the root of the problem,
every clip he watched had variations of the words, "Vampires in
Pittsburgh?" prominently displayed at the bottom of the screen.

   After he had watched the recorded excerpts several times over, he
decided that it was time to add to the terror that gripped the city.  As he
stood to leave, he gave Alicia's shoulder a light squeeze, "I think it
would be best for you to stay here tonight, Alicia.  You have more than
earned a night of respite."

   After she nodded her acceptance, he exited the house.  The moment he set
foot outside, he was able to feel the change that he had wrought: the
entire city reeked of fear, the heady aroma penetrated every building,
every street, and every alleyway.  He could almost see the miasma of terror
that hung over the city like a black cloud.

   Scanning quickly through the bonds to the ferals, he chose one that
seemed relatively close by.  He moved quickly in its direction, avoiding
the occasional masses of policemen, federal agents and soldiers with
contemptuous ease.  Within minutes, he located his target.  Using the
skills he had perfected several nights before, he brought the beast under
control and led it into a dark alley.  There he foisted the bonds of its
kindred onto it until he could bear those that remained without strain.  He
then released the creature, its fury and hunger now magnified many times
over, with a simple command to kill.

   Hearing a fresh burst of gunfire erupt in the distance, Arthur decided
that it would only be right to even the playing field a bit.  Pushing
himself to the limit of his supernatural speed, he ran to the bank of the
Allegheny river and then turned to follow the waterway to the point.  All
along his route the moisture in the air and on the surface of the river
coalesced into a dense fog which rolled into the city in waves.  Rounding
the point where the three rivers met, he journeyed up the Mon and repeated
the process.  By the time he had finished, screams had joined the gunfire
in a mad cacophony.  Arthur sprinted toward the towering skyscrapers to
join the ferals in the hunt.

   After night had fallen across the city, Agent Frederick Roper had begun
to doubt his own sanity.  First, shortly after he had stopped to inspect
the mix of National Guard soldiers and city police officers that manned a
checkpoint by the PPG towers, eight people emerged from a manhole leading
to the sewers half a block from the checkpoint.  The moment that they were
free of the sewers, they had sniffed at the air for a minute before
charging directly at Roper's little force.  They refused to respond to
shouts demanding that they stand their ground and identify themselves. 
Roper sent two of the guardsmen forward to block their path.  The eight
fell upon the two like a pack of hungry wolves.

   Roper and his team immediately brought their M-16's to bear and mowed
down the eight in a blaze of gunfire.  Before any of his men could get
close enough to the bodies to check them for identification or life signs,
all eight rose to their feet and resumed their charge.  Again, Roper and
his men cut them down.  And again they rose.  And again.  And again.  Agent
Roper ordered his men to switch their rifles from burst mode to single
shot. While four clips each had seemed an unnecessary extravagance in the
light of day, it was obviously not going to be enough.

   Then tendrils of fog began to snake across the street, even though there
had been no rain in days and the night was clear and cool.  Agent Roper
looked in the direction from which the wisps had come and was astonished to
see a massive wall of dense, white mist bearing down on his location.  It
flowed rapidly around the base of the shining glass tower of the PPG
building that anchored one end of the checkpoint.  Seconds later, Roper was
engulfed in its clammy embrace, his visibility reduced to mere feet.

   The men tensed, their eyes desperately searching through the mist for
the eight people that they had cut down so many times and who, they knew,
would rise again.

   Suddenly a cultured voice emanated from the depths of the mist behind
them, "Trouble, gentlemen?"

   As one, Roper and his men spun about and raised their guns, now
searching as desperately, and as futilely, for the speaker as they had for
the eight people who wouldn't die.

   "Now, now, that's hardly necessary," the voice said from the mist,
"Private Xavier knows who I am.  Don't you Private Xavier?"

   Roper switched his attention to the guardsman that the voice had named
and found the young man staring out into the fog, his face slack.  His eyes
unfocused, Xavier slowly turned to the side, his weapon still raised.  As
Roper watched in disbelief, the soldier switched his weapon to full
automatic and emptied his clip into the two men standing next to him.

   Roper cried out in warning as eight figures appeared from the mist,
falling on the men from behind.  Screams, many cut off short, rent the
night as hands and impossibly long teeth tore at defenseless flesh.  Roper
backed away from the wild melee, firing his weapon each time he could
discern a target.

   Sensing a presence behind him, the panic stricken agent spun to face it.
A hand grabbed the hot barrel of his rifle and tore the weapon from his
grasp.  The M -16 vanished into the fog as the figure threw it casually to
the side.  The metallic clatter that it made when it skittered across the
unseen pavement momentarily drowned out the wet sucking noises that came
from the fog where the checkpoint used to be.

   The figure latched onto the lapels of Roper's suit and pulled him close.
Roper found himself staring into narrowed eyes as black and cold as death
itself.

   With a humorless chuckle that pulled lips back from the teeth of a
predator, the figure said dryly, "So, Agent Roper of the FBI, do you still
think that I suffer from a disease?"

   The man lifted Roper from his feet and hurled him through the air.  The
agent lay stunned from his impact with the unyielding asphalt of the
street, but soon scrambled to his feet with a whimper of fear.  He ran
blindly into the damp, cold mist as mocking laughter echoed around him.

   "Run, rabbit!  Run!" the monster's voice called after him.

   Roper ran frantically through the fog shrouded city, his progress
impaired by frequent collisions with mailboxes, street posts and parking
meters that popped out of the mist in front of him.  He tried to gain
entrance to the relative safety of a number of buildings, but they were all
locked tight in conformance with the restrictions that he had imposed. 
Wherever he went, the mocking laughter stayed with him.  It sometimes came
from behind him, but, just as often, came from the sides or even from
ahead. Each time the laughter rang out, Roper put his back toward its
apparent source and ran onwards.  He was soon completely disoriented.  He
knew he was being herded, but saw no alternative.

   He had just made one such turn when he slipped and fell to the pavement.
Lifting his head from the warm, sticky puddle into which he had fallen, he
looked with dismay into the pale, lifeless face of a soldier who laid
sprawled over a curb.  As Roper pulled himself to his knees, he could dimly
see other figures through the mist.  None of them moved.  Working more by
touch than sight, he searched among the dead until he found a weapon and
several clips of ammunition.

   Heartened by the feel of steel in his hands, Roper tried to pick
familiar landmarks out of the mist in an attempt to get his bearings.  He
followed the curb to an intersection where he drew his face close enough to
the street sign to make out the words.  He was on Liberty Avenue near the
point.  If he followed the street for a few blocks, he would reach the
city's federal building and the strongest of the checkpoints.

   He had just set out at a quick jog when a tremendous impact from behind
threw him to the sidewalk.  He turned onto his back to see the man stride
out of the fog.  With a slight chuckle, the man picked up Roper's newly
acquired weapon and, after holding it for mere seconds, tossed it down
close to the agent's feet.  The man then stepped backwards and vanished
again into the mist.

   Roper snatched the rifle from the ground and pointed it in the direction
that the monster had taken.  It was then that he noticed the damage. 
Bewildered, he pulled the weapon close to his face so that he could see it
clearly through the mist.  Just forward of the front sight, the barrel had
been crimped as if pinched between finger and thumb.

   As the mocking laughter again rang out behind him, Roper cast the ruined
weapon aside and resumed running up Liberty Avenue.  This time he refused
to be herded, keeping to his course no matter which direction the laughter
came from.  He had not heard any sound from the monster for several minutes
when the flashing yellow lights of the checkpoint's barricade appeared out
of the fog in front of him.  Panting with exertion from the run and almost
sobbing with relief, Roper came to a stop in front of the group of men that
huddled closely together around one of the lights.

   As soon as he appeared, they clustered around him, showering him with
questions.  Did he know where they were?  How had they gotten here?  What
were they supposed to be doing?  As he gaped at them in confusion, a hand
tipped with razor sharp claws burst from the chest of the man in front of
him in a fountain of blood and gore.  Roper stumbled back, but had only
made it a few steps when the last of the men from the checkpoint fell
limply to the ground with a soft thump.  Roper turned to run again, but a
hand grabbed the back of his coat between his shoulders, bringing him to an
immediate stop.  He struggled to wriggle free of the jacket.

   "No, Agent Roper of the FBI," the voice said softly from just behind his
shoulder, "there will be no more running.  You have been amusing prey, but
every hunt must come to an end."

   Roper felt the intense pain of overly sharp teeth sinking into his
throat followed by pleasure as intense as he had ever known.  And then
there was only the darkness.

   As the agent's body fell bonelessly to the damp street, Arthur cackled
gleefully.  He couldn't recall the last time he had so thoroughly enjoyed
himself.

   During the time that he had hunted the agent, he had discovered several
shelters for nonresidents who had been trapped in the city by the federal
lockdown.  Absently straightening his tie, he strode off into the fog in
the direction of the church that housed the nearest.



   Chapter 26



   Mia held her two lovers closely to her chest until they each began to
breathe deeply in contented sleep, their fears now forgotten.  Caressing
their minds with her will to insure that their sleep would not be
disturbed, she wriggled her way out from between them.  She quickly dressed
and then leaned back over the bed to plant a lingering kiss on Tom's lips
and a fond peck on Dana's forehead.

   As she stood gazing at them, guilt flooded through her.  Guilt of such
magnitude that it brought tears to her eyes.  They trusted her so
completely and, all night, Tom's mind had practically glowed with his love
for her.  But she had betrayed that trust and love by taking a human life.
Her conscience demanded an act of contrition.  While she knew that she
could never truly redeem herself after what she had done, perhaps she could
shift the karmic balance back to a state with which she could live. 
Protecting innocents from the ferals that hunted them would, at least, be a
step in the right direction.

   She walked to the living room and peered out the window into the night.
The fog had mostly dissipated but an occasional scream still broke the
silence of the city besieged by fear.  Tom had been right about one thing:
had all three of them gone out, her companions would quite likely have been
quickly apprehended and detained.  Alone she would have no such
difficulties.

   Pushing her awareness out into dark streets, she made certain that there
was no immediate threat to the two people slumbering in the other room and
then silently eased out the window and dropped to the ground far below. 
Striding to one of the neighboring houses, she broke several posts off from
the white picket fence, adding to the damage she had done the night that
she had asked Tom to kill her, but he had instead taken her in.

   She loped through the city streets, hunting the hunters.  There were
dozens of packs, numbering anywhere from five to twenty, running openly and
unchecked through the vacant streets.  They ran hunched over, sometimes
using their hands to help push them along in an ungainly lumber.  Their
heads were raised to both take in the fear scent that pervaded the city and
to seek the smell of fresh victims.  Driven by guilt, Mia moved to
intercept all that she encountered.  This was nothing like the close
quarter fighting in the hotel hallways.  In the open, her speed far
outmatched that of her prey and feral after feral fell before they could
even react to her sudden presence.  Her trail was soon littered with bodies
that had already been dead for anywhere from a few hours to a day, but
would now rest in peace.

   She quickly learned that Tom and Dana would actually have had nothing to
fear from the checkpoints; every one that she came across in the vicinity
of downtown Pittsburgh was the site of a massacre.  The horribly disfigured
and often disemboweled bodies of those who had manned the barricades were
strewn about the streets and sidewalks in slicks and puddles of blood.  A
few had even been draped over the tops of street lights so as to throw
immense and horrifying shadows across the front of nearby buildings.  Any
remaining doubts she had concerning Arthur's continued existence were
dispelled by the gruesome displays.  In her experience, only he could be so
wantonly and unnecessarily cruel.

   Surprisingly few of the bodies she found had been drained and the crude
injuries inflicted on most of those who were hinted that they were the work
of ferals.  Nevertheless, she snapped the neck of any body that was not
already injured in that manner to make certain that none would rise.

   She had been wondering why no one had come to relieve the unfortunate
men at the checkpoints.  Her questions were answered when she ran by the
city-county building.  It was apparent that those who were to take the
second shift at the barricades had assembled there for assignment and
transportation.  The bodies were piled deep.

   There, she also found, for the first time that night, evidence of
successful mortal resistance to the onslaught of the undead.  At least ten
ferals, their fanged mouths gaping open in true and final death, laid among
the fallen, their bodies riddled with arrows.  Some of Tom's men must have
been there and had come prepared for what they knew prowled the night.  In
an effort to find out if they had survived, she searched among the dead for
bodies armed with bows.

   She sensed the arrow speeding toward her well before it arrived. 
Reflexively, her hand darted up to catch the wooden shaft a foot behind the
crudely whittled point.  Rather than move close enough for the shooter to
be able to identify her as friendly, and risk having another shot taken at
her in the process, Mia chose to move on.

   After a few blocks, she came across a large stone church.  A crude sign,
hastily lettered in black magic marker, proclaimed the place to be a
shelter for those trapped in the city by the quarantine effort.  The large,
beautifully carved wooden doors to the place were burst asunder, and the
men and women who had manned the checkpoint on the adjacent street had been
slaughtered.

   She was sickened by the sight that greeted her when she entered the
nave. Behind the pulpit, a large wooden cross was suspended from the
cathedral ceiling by several cables.  A priest had been impaled face down
at the top.  His neck was broken and his head had been pulled back so that
he seemed to be staring at the entrance.  As she drew closer, she could see
the deep gouges that had been made in the wood of the lower part of the
cross when the perpetrator of this vile act had used claws to climb to the
top.

   A hasty search of one of the transepts revealed a door that led down
into the church's basement.  Descending, she found several large rooms that
had been lined with cots for the refugees.  In the windowless basement,
Arthur, for this could only have been his work, had departed from the
practice she had observed in the streets.  Nearly every body was drained
but otherwise uninjured.  From what she could tell, the unarmed mortals had
cowered back against the walls when Arthur had appeared at the only exit to
what had then become their prison.  He must have used compulsion to make
them come to him, one by one, to be drained while the others watched.  The
massive pool of blood at the base of the stairs showed that he had filled
and then emptied himself many times over.  The rooms absolutely reeked of
fear, the scent so strong that she could feel her fangs descend from her
upper jaw in instinctive reaction.

   This atrocity had been committed recently enough that the Gift would not
yet have taken hold; a wooden stake was not needed.  She moved from body to
body and snapped the victims' necks, wincing as she discovered that several
of them were mere children.  By the time she was through, she was weeping,
her mind a tumultuous mix of rage, horror, grief and hunger.

   When she emerged from the church, she could feel that the sun would be
rising soon, although the sky had not yet begun to brighten.  She hesitated
with indecision.  Arthur could well be nearby and, in her rage, she wanted
nothing less than to confront him to make him pay for what he had done. 
But reason prevailed; she had no illusions that she would pose any more of
a threat to him than a single feral did to her.  She sped back across the
city to the building that housed Tom's apartment .  With a quick exercise
of will, she purged her clothing of the dried blood that saturated it and
then changed her hands, arms and feet to allow her to scale the side of the
building to his living room window.

   Once inside, she resealed the window and ran to the bedroom.  Not
bothering to undress, she wriggled her way back between Tom and Dana, and
hugged them tightly to her.  The comfort of their presence served as a
bulwark against the horrific and grisly images from her outing that
continued to haunt her.  Nevertheless, when the sun rose above the horizon,
and her body shook before becoming unnaturally still, her cheeks were shiny
with fresh tears.

   Chapter 27

   Tom awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in weeks.  Yesterday's long
afternoon nap followed by a full night of dreamless sleep had truly done
wonders.  As his eyes opened, he saw that Dana was still cuddled up tightly
to the now dormant Mia, a broad, happy smile stretched across her lips even
in sleep.  With an affectionate smile, he stretched to kiss Mia's cool lips
and then, more lightly, Dana's very warm ones.

   While doing so, he noticed that, sometime after he had fallen asleep,
Mia had again dressed in his sweat pants and t-shirt.  He could easily
guess what she had done.  He suppressed the sudden surge of worry; she was
obviously okay.  Briefly he wondered how she had managed to do battle for
the second night in a row without having fed.  He promised himself that he
would find a way to get her to Peter's house no matter what restrictions
were in place.  She surely had to be in dire need.

   He rose from the bed and slipped on his boxers before wandering out in
the direction of the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing.  He stopped
momentarily as he reached the living room.  The back of a head was visible
over the top of his couch.  He relaxed and continued walking when he
recognized it as Mark's.

   Mark's head was tilted to rest on the back of the couch.  His eyes were
closed and he was snoring softly.  Tom stifled a laugh as he saw the line
of drool that extended from the corner of his friend's widely gaping mouth
to his chest.  The desire to laugh ceased when he proceeded a little
further and saw that Mark's right arm was in a sling and a leg, fortunately
the left one, was in a full cast.  The upper part of his shirt bulged with
the bandages that were wrapped tightly around his ribs, and his left hand
was draped protectively over the crutch that lay across his lap.

   Doing his best to move quietly, Tom completed his intended task and then
headed to the bathroom for his morning ablutions.  When he returned, the
coffee was ready.  Filling two cups, he walked back to the living room and
waved one under Mark's nose.

   Mark came awake immediately, his good hand reaching for the cup even
before his eyes opened.  "Ahhh," he sighed blissfully, "that's the second
best way to wake up that I can think of."

   Tom, careful not to ask what the best way was, said mildly, "Good
morning, sleeping beauty.  What brings you to my couch so bright and early?
Jenny finally get a good look at you and tell you to get out?"

   Before Mark could answer, Tom added, "Oh, and did you just end your
sentence with a preposition?  Your old professors would be appalled."

   "First you give me coffee and then you insult me," Mark replied in an
injured tone, "You're quite the contrary bitch." He brightened as a smirk
twisted his lips.  "Since you're being so picky, how about: that's the
second best way to wake up that I can think of, asshole?  As to the rest, I
peeked in on you when I first got here.  Even though I was told that my
errand was fairly urgent, I couldn't bring myself to disturb you and your,
uh, company.  Dana, Tom?  Really?  You do know that she's young enough to
be..."

   "My younger sister?" Tom interrupted.  "It's all very innocent.  I
swear. She was a bit frightened by everything that was going on in the city
and just wanted to spend the night someplace safe."

   "Uh huh," Mark replied in a tone of frank disbelief.

   He appeared to be about to say more when the object of their
conversation walked into the room wearing only her Pittsburgh PD t-shirt
and a pair of panties.  She paused when she noticed Mark's presence, but,
with a slight shrug of her shoulders, continued forward.

   "Good morning.  Do I smell coffee?" she asked hopefully.

   "Good morning, and you sure do," Tom replied, "Have a seat and I'll get
you a cup."

   "Mmmm," she said contentedly after the first sip, "much better than that
swill at the station."

   "I'll take that as a compliment," Tom replied before switching his
attention back to Mark, "You mentioned an urgent errand?"

   "Yep," Mark answered.  "Look at this," he ordered gruffly as he hit a
button on the tv remote.  A Massengill commercial appeared on the screen.

   "Are you saying that I'm not fresh and clean?" Tom asked.

   Mark grunted with amusement and then grumbled, "Bad timing.  Keep
watching.  They've been showing what I want you to see nonstop all
morning."

   After a few more commercials and a notice indicating that the day's
scheduled programming had been preempted for a special news report, an
elderly and dignified anchor began summarizing the events in Pittsburgh
over the past few days.  After recapping the assurances of the federal
authorities that it was nothing more than the outbreak of an unusual
disease, the anchor said, "But the official explanation fails to account
for what we are about to show you.  I warn you that the video that you are
about to see contains scenes of violence which are not suitable for
sensitive viewers."

   The anchor's head and shoulders were replaced by footage that had been
filmed from a corner room of one of the hotels close to the point.  The
windows had been opened and the screens popped out to give the cameraman a
clean shot.  The camera was pointed down at a sharp angle and showed a
group of five unarmed men rushing toward a far larger group of heavily
armed soldiers and policemen who were gathered around a line of bright
yellow horses topped with flashing yellow lights.  Barely perceptible over
the cameraman's breathing, Tom could hear the terse shouts of the police
for the other group to stop.  Guns came up as those orders were ignored. 
Tom noticed that it was a city police officer, all of whom were at least
vaguely aware that the threat was not a mere illness, who opened fire
first. The other men joined in and the five jerked backwards under the
impact of hot lead before falling motionless to the pavement.

   "Holy [beep]," the cameraman blurted out angrily, "those [beep] just
shot those poor [beep] down like dogs!  I can't believe this [beep]!"

   The furious tirade continued for a few minutes until it suddenly choked
off when the bodies twitched violently and began to rise.  As the police
and soldiers stood in stunned disbelief, they renewed their charge.  When
they were less than ten yards away, guns were lifted and fired.  The bodies
again fell to the ground.  The police and soldiers gathered in a close
group, and it was obvious that a heated argument was taking place.  The
group broke apart and pairs of men grabbed the wooden horses that formed
the barricade and carried them twenty yards farther down the street from
their fallen adversaries.  They had no sooner set up their new line when
the dead rose to their feet yet again.  This time there was no hesitation
before gunfire broke out.

   Once the undead were again motionless, one of the city police officers
knocked over a barricade and kicked it violently until it was in splinters.
By the time he was finished, they were again being charged.  When the
barrage of rifle fire ended this time, that same officer, along with
several others, grabbed sharp shards of wood from the broken barricade and
sprinted to the fallen ferals.  They stabbed each body repeatedly until
they could be certain that no heart had gone unpierced.



   "Good for them!" Tom whooped, echoed only somewhat less exuberantly by
Dana.

   "Keep watching," Mark said grimly.

   The camera remained fixed on the men below, who now seemed to be arguing
about what to do about the dead bodies in the street.  Tendrils of fog
began to snake across the street.  The mist swiftly grew thicker and rose
higher.  Just before the men were obscured, the camera shifted to show a
number of barely perceptible figures running toward the checkpoint.  Many
of them had a strange, erratic gate, as if they were using their hands to
assist with their locomotion.  The cameraman could be heard shouting
warnings out the window.  The footage continued long enough for the viewers
to hear renewed gunfire that cut off when the screams began.

   As Tom, Dana and Mark exchanged horrified glances, the video was
replaced by the familiar visage of the anchorman.  "Our meteorologist
assures us that conditions in Pittsburgh last night were such that fog
could not possibly have formed naturally.  It did dissipate after roughly
three hours.  We'll now show you what was revealed.  Again, we strongly
caution that what we are about to show you is not appropriate for sensitive
viewers."

   The picture switched back to the view from the corner hotel room.  The
fog had been reduced to a thin mist that whirled and eddied through the
street at no more than knee height.  The wet street was covered with
bodies, some dismembered, all with hideous injuries.  Tom noticed that
there were far fewer than there should have been; many of the men who had
manned the checkpoint were missing.

   Over the grim footage, the anchorman stated, "We have been attempting to
reach the authorities in Pittsburgh for an official statement on the events
of last night, but, so far, none of our calls have been forwarded to anyone
with authorization to speak on the subject.  All that we have been told is
that the restrictions that were put in place yesterday afternoon are still
in effect."

   Tom looked at Mark in confusion, "Why isn't anyone saying anything?"

   Mark answered by pointing a finger at Tom.

   "Huh?" Tom replied, now even more confused.

   "You're the resident vampire expert," Mark explained, "No one is willing
to say shit until they talk to you."

   "Fuck!  Why didn't they call?  Why..," Tom's words cut off as Mark held
up the cell phone that Tom suddenly recalled he had turned off yesterday to
avoid the endless stream of callers who had wanted to voice outrage over
his suspension.  Mark tossed it over to him, and a quick check showed Tom
that his voice mail was full.

   "Damn.  Sorry," Tom said, disgusted with himself, "Why didn't you wake
me up?" His eyes rose to look at Mark with friendly malice, "And why did
they send the fat, gimpy guy to crawl up six flights of stairs to my
apartment?"

   With a chuckle, Mark answered, "I didn't wake you up because you just
looked too damn comfortable."

   Dana turned bright red as she realized what he must have seen.

   Mark gave her a reassuring smile and continued, "If those sanctimonious
feds don't like it, they can just go fuck themselves.  From what I
understand, if they had listened to you yesterday, they wouldn't be in so
much trouble today.  Besides, I've only been here for," he checked his
watch quickly, "a little over half an hour.  I would have woken you up
soon, if you hadn't gotten up on your own.  It's not like cutting you a
little slack will make those poor, sorry bastards who died last night any
more dead or make a lot of difference today.  As to why they sent me, I
called in first thing this morning after I was released from the hospital
to see if I could help.  Had a quick conference call with the Chief and
some CDC asshole who is now leading the federal contingent in the city as
their old leader vanished last night.  The Chief talked him into sending me
to get you instead of some fed.  Think of it as extending an olive branch
or using honey to lure in the flies."

   In a subdued voice, Tom asked, "How many people did we lose last night?"

   Mark shook his head sadly, "When I asked, no one was really sure.  Lots.
Though probably less than we would have if not for..." he finished by
gesturing vaguely toward the window.  Glancing over, Tom saw, for the first
time, the pair of fence posts that were leaning against the wall beneath
the sill.  The paint had been worn off the sharp ends and the cracks were
filled with dried blood and bits of skin, bone and muscle.

   "I really need to slip a few bucks into my neighbor's mailbox to cover
all the damage to his fence," Tom commented absently, "I also owe Mia a
great big hug."

   "Yeah, we all do, I would say," Mark replied.

   Tom stood with a sigh and sucked down as much of the hot coffee as he
could handle, "Well, I suppose we had better get moving before they send
someone else."

   "Should I come with you?" Dana asked.

   Tom shook his head, "Only if you really want to.  I would say that what
you went through the other night more than earned you a couple of days of
rest and relaxation.  You're more than welcome to stay here.  There's food
in the fridge and you know where the shower is.  Not to mention that, with
all the vampire hunters that are likely to be combing the city by the end
of the day, I would feel better knowing that someone was watching over
Mia."

   "Okay," Dana replied, relief evident in her voice.  She stood and walked
over to Tom where she twined an arm around his neck to pull him down for a
quick peck on the lips and a hug.  "Thanks for, um, everything, Tom." Her
face turned red with another blush as she added, "Would it be alright if I
stayed here tonight, too?"

   Returning her hug with a squeeze of his own, Tom replied, "Of course."
Switching his attention to Mark, he asked, "Ready, hop along?"

   Once they were out in the hallway, Mark turned to his friend with a
lecherous grin, "Innocent, my ass."

   Tom answered only with a smile that, despite all of his efforts, still
looked smug.

   As Tom helped Mark negotiate the many stairs that led to the ground
floor, Mark grumbled, "You cheap bastard.  Why can't you spring for an
apartment in a building with an elevator?"

   Mildly, Tom answered, "This building has one, it just hasn't worked in a
year or two." He pointedly ignored the murderous look that Mark gave him in
reply.

   Once they were out on the sidewalk, Tom asked, "How did you get here,
anyway?  I'm guessing that you can't drive."

   "A patrol car dropped me off," Mark replied, "The driver had orders to
wait until I dragged you out by the hair and then drive us back to the
station, but I told him that we could make it there on our own."

   "Okay," said Tom, "My car it is."

   As they approached the vehicle in question, Mark let out a disgusted
grunt, "Tiny apartment in a crappy old building.  Shitty car.  Bachelor
who, until recently, lived the life of a monk.  What do you spend your
money on?"

   Struggling to keep a straight face, Tom answered, "Midget porn.  Lots
and lots of midget porn."

   Chapter 28

   The moment that Tom and Mark entered the station, Dr.  Nolan of the CDC
came running up to them.  Panting from the slight exertion, he asked
breathlessly, "Lieutenant, about time you got here.  What can you tell me
about these things?"

   "Good morning, Dr.  Nolan," Tom replied pleasantly, "It's nice to see
you again, too.  But I thought we didn't have time for ridiculous
superstition."

   Dr.  Nolan had the decency to look abashed at Tom's words.  "Sorry," he
answered sheepishly, "We were wrong, you were right.  Now, would you be
willing to share what you know?"

   "Sure, we're all on the same team, after all," Tom replied, "but I want
a few things, first." He would certainly have provided the information
without conditions, but an opportunity to get things moving in a hurry
could not be passed over.

   "What?" Dr.  Nolan asked with exasperation.

   "I want the travel restrictions against people leaving the city lifted.
In fact, why don't we just make it a mandatory evacuation?  Get word out
immediately.  It would be a good idea to search every car that leaves. 
Make certain the sun touches everyone.  The vampires who are behind all
that has been going on quite likely have regular people, mercenaries,
helping them.  They could try to leave the city by day with the
mercenaries' help."

   "Done, but why evacuate?"

   "The obvious reason.  The fewer people there are in the city, the fewer
people there are for the vampires to kill or turn into other vampires." Tom
was almost ashamed at the perverse pleasure he took in the pained looks
that crossed the doctor's face every time he said the v word.

   "Anything else?"

   "Yes.  Call in the people at the checkpoints inside the city.  Form them
into search parties and have them start looking in every dark alley, every
dumpster, every open basement, and every building with broken or open
windows or doors.  If they find anyone who seems dead, they are to drag
that person out into the sun.  It would also be good to open every manhole
and lower mirrors down to reflect sunlight up and down the pipes.  The
sewer pipes in this city are too small and too full for people who have to
breathe to be crawling around in them for a proper search, but using the
mirrors should help a little."

   Dr.  Nolan nodded thoughtfully, "Good idea.  Done.  Is that all?"

   "I would like to know two things: how many people did we lose last night
and what specifically happened to change your mind about the existence of
vampires?"

   Dr.  Nolan's face turned grim, "Last night, we split all available
people into four shifts of six hours each.  Inside the bounds of the city
proper, we lost everyone on the first shift; just under three hundred men.
About a third of those are still missing.  Those who were assigned to
outlying districts or the highways reported no contact with the enemy.  The
entire second shift was attacked either while they were assembling for
assignment or while they were driving there through that blasted fog. 
Almost four hundred dead.  Fortunately, some of the men had come prepared
with bows and arrows and they held off the attackers while more than two
hundred others escaped into the city-county building lobby.  They then
stood guard until morning, keeping those people safe.  We had the third
shift assemble at the South Side station and just manned the outer
checkpoints from there on out.

   "As to your second question: early in the evening, one of the
checkpoints was attacked by a single man and they managed to restrain him
and bring him in.  When I examined him, I found that he had no pulse, no
blood pressure and was room temperature.  Although the team reported that
they had shot him repeatedly, there was no sign of any injury other than
the holes in his clothes.  His pupil reactions, reflexes, and flexibility
were, however, completely normal, even better than normal.  When I checked
his teeth, I discovered that he not only had fangs but could extend and
retract them at will.  He was completely unresponsive to questions, and
acted more like a caged animal than a human being.  When I had blood tests
run on the exceedingly small amount that I could squeeze out of him, the
results were more bizarre than anything I could have ever imagined.  Not
only was the chemistry all wrong, but it contained cells like nothing I've
seen before.

   "The presence of those cells had almost convinced me that it was a
disease after all.  Just a very, very exotic one.  Then, at six fifteen
this morning, the exact time of sunrise, he ceased struggling against the
chains that we had used to hold him down and went completely limp and
seemingly lifeless on the gurney.  Ten minutes later, the sun began shining
through the windows of the examining room and he, the vial of blood that I
had drawn from him, and the blood that I had smeared on some slides burst
explosively into flame.  That made a believer out of me.  Now, will you
tell me what you know?"

   Shocked by the sheer numbers of dead, Tom replied in a subdued voice,
"Sure, Dr.  Nolan.  While you make the arrangements for the search parties
and the evacuation, let me see if I can round up some other people who need
to hear what I have to say."

   Dr.  Nolan turned to go but then spun to face Tom again, "Lieutenant,
you do realize that telling the world that there really are vampires is
pretty much out of the question?"



   "It's the truth.  And assuming that hiding that truth is even remotely
possible at this point, which I sincerely doubt, why would you?  I think
the people have a right to know what it is that they're facing."

   "Think of the panic that such knowledge would cause, and the economic
and social disaster that would occur if everyone was suddenly afraid to
leave their homes after dark.  Consider, too, that vampires look like us;
in a sense they are, or at least were, us.  Anyone walking by you on the
street could be one.  And that is exactly what a lot of people will think.

   "Fear is not a rational emotion.  If someone is acting odd, or is new to
an area, or follows different customs, they will be subject to suspicion,
even violence.  It won't matter if the suspicions are unsupported by
evidence.  It never does.  Look how long racial and ethnic stereotypes have
persisted and how much violence has occurred because of them.  That is so
even though no such stereotype has included the added dimension of the
subject wanting to kill and eat you."

   Tom shook his head, "I don't think you're giving people enough credit,
Doctor.  People are smart enough..."

   Dr.  Nolan interrupted, "A person is smart.  People are not.  A person
can view a situation logically and rationally.  A group of people, however,
is prone to fear, hysteria, paranoia and violence.  Mob mentality is an
unfortunate reality."

   "That's an extremely dim view of human nature."

   "Actually, Lieutenant, that's the bright side.  On the other side of the
coin is the people who, instead of being afraid, want the power and
longevity that vampirism can offer.  They will flock to the city with the
hope of becoming infected.  And if they succeed...Well, I don't think I
need to paint a picture of what would happen if people who are willing to
consume the lives of others to prolong their own actually got the
opportunity."

   When Tom just stared at him, dumbfounded, Dr.  Nolan pressed on, "I know
this will be covered in the briefing you'll be giving, but answer me this:
Do you know how long these creatures have been around?"

   Tom bit down on his anger and answered, "I don't know.  At least a few
hundred years."

   "Yet this has been the only incident of this type?"

   "Well, yes..."

   "From Ms.  Harper's story, I get the impression that this is all the
work of one or two creatures?"

   "Only one, really.  The woman who was with him was created here."

   "Okay.  Do you not think it a fair assumption, then, that, even if there
are others of his kind, even many others, he is an anomaly, a rebel among
them?

   Grudgingly, Tom admitted, "I suppose so."

   "So, if we manage to eliminate this one, don't you think it likely that
we will have no further incidents of this type?"

   "It's possible, but what if there are?"

   "I'm not suggesting that we stick our heads in the sand, Lieutenant
McNelly.  There will be people, all with proper levels of clearance of
course, who know the truth.  There will likely even be a rapid response
team trained specifically to combat any future incidents.  What I am
suggesting is that the truth will not do the masses any good and may even
do a great deal of harm."

   "As an intellectual exercise, I suppose that I can see your point, but
there are already a huge number of people who know the truth..."

   "No.  There are a huge number of people who think they know the truth.
Very few have actually seen a vampire up close and survived.  If we offer a
plausible alternative, who do you think the masses will believe?  Us, with
our rational and logical explanation, or people who spout out incredible
tales of mythological creatures attacking a modern city?"

   "What 'rational and logical' explanation could you possibly give for all
that has happened?"

   "All we need to do is put an added spin on the old explanation.  It is a
disease, similar to rabies but also causing hallucinations, delusions and
rapid growth of the canine teeth.  To be on the safe side, we'll say that
it has a hundred percent mortality rate in cases of full infection.  We'll
also say that it can only be spread through a direct mix of bodily fluids,
such as by a bite or ingestion of blood, and that it has almost no
incubation period.  That will allow us to perform the evacuation without
inciting pandemic hysteria.  We'll even have the checkpoints administer
fake 'skin chemistry' tests to make sure that those leaving aren't
infected. I imagine simple litmus paper will do."

   "But Harper's story..."

   "She was bitten by one of the infected and, unfortunately, contracted a
mild form of the disease.  What she recalls experiencing was nothing more
than a hallucination, a fever dream.  To diminish her credibility, we'll
lock her up in quarantine for a few weeks before pronouncing her cured.  By
the time she's released, even she'll believe it was all a delusion."

   "That's horrible!"

   "No.  That is doing what is necessary to preserve our society."

   "But the news has already shown people rising from the dead..."

   "Many drugs, PCP for example, allow a person to endure injuries that
would drop anyone else.  In their panic, the team that shot at their
attackers managed to miss any area that would cause an immediate fatality."

   "That's ludicrous!"

   "Far less so than the alternative.  People will readily believe that
story over vampires.  If for no other reason than because they want to."

   "The fog..."

   "Was a freak meteorological phenomena that happened last night only
through sheer coincidence.  Such things happen all the time.  By noon,
we'll have people with a bunch of letters after their names explaining it
on every news show in the country."

   "I'm given to understand that the one who is causing all of this wants
the masses to know he exists.  If we foil his efforts, he'll likely just up
the ante again."

   "Then we had better destroy him tonight."

   When it looked like Tom was going to raise further objections, Dr. 
Nolan raised a hand to silence him.  "We have a lot of experience with this
sort of thing, Lieutenant.  Believe me when I tell you that it will work.
The question is: will you support us or will you be just another nutjob
that we have to discredit?"

   Tom's shoulders slumped, "With that set of options, I guess I really
don't have any other choice but to support you."

   "Excellent.  I'll see you at your briefing.

   Tom ended up giving his short course on the basics of vampire hunting to
a room of no more than twenty people.  The doors to the briefing room were
kept locked and guards stood outside to prevent any eavesdropping.  Tom
spent the rest of the morning standing behind Dr.  Nolan at a press
conference during which the doctor disseminated the new information
concerning the disease outbreak, announced the evacuation and declared the
vampire stories to be absolute nonsense.

   After a hasty lunch procured from the station's vending machines, Tom
spent several hours fending off attempts by Dr.  Nolan, Agent Roper's
replacement, and some two star general to learn more about the city's
"vampire ally," including her current location.  The evidence, including a
number of eye witness statements and the large number of dead ferals
littering the streets that morning, had been too strong for him to simply
deny her existence.  The meeting ended when Tom stood and walked resolutely
from the room, refusing to acknowledge the questions and demands that were
shouted after him.

   Agent Roper's replacement, Agent Morris, ran after Tom and grabbed him
by the shoulder.  "How can you be so obstinate?  Do you have any idea how
much we could learn from an accommodating vampire?  Your failure to
cooperate is putting a lot of lives at risk."



   Tom twisted out of his grasp and spun on him angrily, "You've been
saying that same shit for two hours now, and it still stinks.  Mia is a
friend and an ally.  She's saved more lives and killed more ferals than all
the rest of us combined.  I will not allow you to turn her into a lab rat
in some high security government facility.  As far as risking lives, I
think that the record speaks for itself.  Your predecessor's refusal to
listen to reason yesterday not only risked lives but cost them.  Lots of
them.  I have nothing else to say on the matter."

   Agent Morris let Tom go, but followed him with angry narrowed eyes until
he vanished from sight.

   Because the downtown area of the city had been the epicenter of vampire
activity, it was decided, by common consensus, that it would be the first
area to be evacuated.  To prevent any chance of witnesses who could throw
doubt on the official explanation of events, the evacuation of this area
was absolutely mandatory and any who sought to remain were unceremoniously
forced from their homes.  Once most of the people had been removed from the
downtown area, the evacuation spread to the outlying districts of the city,
though it was not strictly enforced there.  By mid-afternoon, the search
teams were able to switch from herding stragglers out of the area to
diligently combing through the otherwise empty buildings for dormant
undead.

   Despite Mia's efforts the night before, there was still an ungodly
number of them.  Tom's team alone found dozens.  Tom and his team, all of
whom had blank, shell shocked faces as a result of the emotional trauma of
dragging friends, coworkers, women and children out to burn in the sun,
had, through trial and error, developed a system for handling each body
that they found.  First, for record keeping purposes, they searched the
body for identification or, if there was none, took a photograph of the
feral's face.  Then, because of the violence with which the vampires
exploded when touched by the sun, they used grappling hooks attached to
ropes to drag the bodies into daylight.  When Tom took a quick break and
glanced into the sky, it was apparent that the other teams were meeting
with similar success: small plumes of greasy, black smoke rose from all
over the city.

   Shortly before sunset, Tom threw back the cover of a dumpster and found
himself staring into the lifeless face of Agent Roper.  He sank his
grappling hook into the undead agent's diaphragm so that the hook caught on
the rib cage.  He then gave the rope attached to the base of the hook a tug
to signal those on the other end.  The body was quickly pulled out into the
fading light of the sun.

   After Agent Roper had been reduced to charred bones, they tagged and
bagged his remains and threw him into the back of a dump truck that was
brimming with identical cargo.  He would be their last for the day. 
Emotionally and physically exhausted, Tom and his team trudged back to the
station.

   Upon arrival, they were relieved of the records they had made and then
were quickly briefed on the plans for the rapidly coming night.  Someone
involved in the planning had realized that IR gear should readily allow
those who had body heat to be distinguished from those who did not. 
Helicopters with FLIR were even now powering up to patrol the surrounding
countryside for any undead that attempted to leave the city without using
the roads.  Meanwhile, fresh teams were being equipped with the odd
combination of bows, crossbows and IR goggles to patrol the city for
roaming ferals that the daytime search parties had missed.  They were also
being ordered to search any house that continued to show signs of
occupation and was not the residence of a police officer whose continued
presence in the city was required.

   Following the briefing, the daytime search teams were thanked and
dismissed with orders to return to their homes and stay there until
morning. Tired and covered with soot, they dispersed to their cars to drive
to their mostly empty homes; their families having been evacuated with
everyone else.

   Before crawling into his own vehicle, Tom made a quick call to Dana to
tell her what was happening, and that they would need to get Mia out of the
city before Tom's apartment was inevitably searched.

   As Tom pulled out of the parking lot, he noticed that he was nearly out
of gas.  With the service stations all closed, he had no choice but to go
to one of the fuel depots established for government use.  The line was
long and the sunset had faded from bruised purple to true night by the time
he was again on his way.

   When Tom rounded the corner onto the street that fronted his apartment
building, the sweep of his headlights caught the silhouette of a man
leaning against the outside wall of Zelda's Tavern.  In his peripheral
vision, he caught a glimpse of the man rushing toward his car with
unnatural speed.  Tom pressed the gas pedal to the floor and turned the
wheel hard in an effort to evade, but it was too late.  His car shook with
violent impact and the roof buckled downwards as the man landed atop it.

   Tom slammed on the brake in an attempt to throw his unwelcome rider from
the roof.  His efforts were greeted by soft, mocking laughter.  Suddenly,
Tom was deafened by the squeal of tearing metal as a long claw punched
through the roof above his head and was drawn swiftly towards the rear of
the car.

   Tom stared numbly upwards as the half of the roof covering his head was
peeled back like the lid of a sardine cane.  The night sky revealed by this
act was quickly blotted out by the silhouette of a man's head.  Tom reached
for the pistol in his shoulder holster, but a hand shot down through the
roof to claim the weapon first and throw it aside.  Tom heard the dull
clunk of the gun hitting the street, and the sound filled him with
despair..

   "Good evening, Lieutenant.  How nice it is to finally make your
acquaintance," Arthur hissed, his voice dripping with malice.

   A fist flashed toward Tom's temple, moving far too fast to avoid. 
Dimly, Tom felt the other side of his head impact hard against the glass of
his driver's side window.  His last conscious memory was of being pulled
violently from the car and thrown over a shoulder.

   Chapter 29

   Alicia crept furtively through the dark and empty streets.  Earlier, her
Master had suggested that she again stay indoors under the protection of
the mercenaries.  He had also intimated that he had accomplished all he
could in this city and, after he tied up one final bit of unfinished
business, they would be leaving for fresh hunting grounds.  Perhaps even
New York.

   Fortunately, her Master's suggestion had been just that rather than an
order.  She had some unfinished business of her own to attend to.  Slipping
past band after band of vampire hunters, she traveled to one of the least
prosperous sections of the city.

   She smiled when she saw the light shining out of his apartment window.
She had correctly judged her quarry's nature.  His apathy and laziness had
overcome good sense; he hadn't evacuated.  She peered carefully up and down
the street before running up the rotting wooden steps that led to his door.

   Her loud knocks soon prompted a voice to call from within, "Ha!  I knew
ya couldn't stand being away from me, Sally!  I told ya that evacuation
bullshit..."

   His words cut off as he pulled the door open.

   "Yer not Sally," he said accusingly.  He then squinted at her through
eyes bleary from alcohol, "Alicia?  You get yer hair cut or sumtin'?"

   She looked at him with disgust.  He was dressed in a graying tank top
and badly stained briefs.  The tank top was too small; the hairy base of
his beer belly protruded from below it and folded over the top of his dirty
underwear.

   "Hello, Harry," Alicia said sweetly.  His head snapped backwards, and he
flew across the room as her upper cut connected with his chin.

   "Cops are lookin' fer ya, bitch!  Getcher skank ass outa here or I'll
call 'em!  I swear!" he screeched frantically as he scrambled across the
floor away from her.

   Kicking the door closed behind her, Alicia stalked him through the
small, dreary apartment.  "Our vow was 'until death do us part,' Harry,"
she said calmly, "Not 'until some young whore flashes her tits at you.'"

   She stood over his cowering form, her lips pursed in contemplation,
"Hmm, now that I think about it, death probably already has parted us." Her
voice grew lower in pitch and filled with menace, "But what do you say we
just remove all doubt?"

   He squealed as she lifted him from the floor by the front of his shirt.
Drawing her hand back she slapped him repeatedly across the face.  With
each impact, a fine mist of blood sprayed out across the adjoining walls.
An occasional displaced tooth clattered along the floor.

   "Remember doing this to me after your binges?" she asked rhetorically,
"Good times.  Good times."

   "I'm thorry!" he shouted through cracked and broken lips.

   "Sorry isn't good enough," she replied, "Not by a long shot."

   She drew the arm that gripped his shirt back and then rapidly forward.
He slid across the floor before his head hit the opposite wall with a loud
crack.  As he clutched feebly at his head and mouth, she walked over to
again stand above him.

   "In all fifteen years that we were married, I don't think you once made
me cum with that tiny little thing you think of as a cock," she said.  She
emphasized her point by bringing her foot down hard on the organ in
question, and then grinding her foot back and forth.

   She withdrew her foot as he screamed and clutched at his injured member,
curling up into a tight ball.  She walked around him until she was standing
by his head.

   She pushed him over onto his back with her foot and stood on his upper
arms to pin him there.  "I think you owe me at least one good orgasm for
putting up with fifteen years of your bullshit," she mused.

   Drawing her dress up around her hips, she squatted down to grind her ass
into his face.  "I think licking my asshole would be a good place to
start."

   "Fuck you, bitch!" he shouted, though his words were muffled by her
thighs.

   "I don't think so, Harry," she replied calmly, "Not ever again.  But you
will lick my ass.  Now."

   When he continued to struggle, she took one of his hands in hers. 
Pulling his middle finger out straight, she twisted sharply.  With a sound
like popcorn popping, the bones and knuckles of the finger shattered. 
Harry screamed into her crotch.

   "Better start licking, Harry," she commanded, "Only nine left to go and
then I'll have to move on to other things." She traced a finger
suggestively down the center of his stomach to make certain that he didn't
miss the implication.

   His tongue stretched out to take a few tentative licks at her nether
hole.

   "Not good enough, Harry," she said as she straightened out his pinky.

   His tongue immediately began to lap forcefully at her anus.  She moaned
loudly in pleasure.  It wasn't really the touch of his tongue that she was
enjoying, although that was pleasant enough.  It was the power.  It was the
fact that he was compelled to do what she desired, without any regard for
his own wants or needs.  So it had been with the mercenaries several nights
before.  They knew what she and her Master were and had been more than
happy to follow her instructions and satisfy her every whim.  She would
never have to put up with abuse or neglect again.  No more would she be
forced to debase herself for any man.

   Except for her Master, of course.  For him she would do anything.  He
had given her a gift beyond her wildest imaginings.  Even a thousand years
of humiliation and pain would be a small price to pay for such a thing. 
Especially, she admitted to herself, since, as long as he was the one doing
such things, she would enjoy every minute.

   As she ground her bottom more firmly into her ex-husband's face, the
door burst open behind her.  She jumped to her feet as the room filled with
soldiers.  Several of them wore bulky IR goggles.

   One of them turned to look at her.  "She's one of them!" he shouted.

   She sprinted for the window.  She could hear arrows whizzing through the
air just behind her.  However, not all of the soldiers were equipped with
archaic weapons, there simply weren't enough to go around.  An assault
rifle on full automatic began to chatter, and she could hear the ring of
expended brass hitting the floor.  Hot lead tore into her side, causing her
to cry out in pain.  Her Master had told her that bullets could do her no
lasting harm, but he hadn't informed her how badly they could still hurt.

   She stumbled and, as she slowed, the arrows began to find her, piercing
her arms, thighs and abdomen.  White hot pain lanced through her.  Compared
to this, the bullets had been pleasant.  She fell to the floor and cowered
back as the soldiers closed in for the kill.  A whimper escaped her throat
as one drew back his bowstring and took careful aim at the center of her
chest.

   From the other side of the room she heard Harry call out, "Yeah!  Kill
that fuckin' bitch!"

   She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that her end was at hand.  But it
didn't come.  Fearfully, she partially opened one eye to see what fresh
torment they were preparing for her.  None of the soldiers were paying her
the slightest attention.  Eyes wide with shock and lips pulled back in
grimaces of pain they stood as motionless as statues, every muscle and
tendon standing out hard under taut skin.  As Alicia watched, their bodies
began to contort, limbs and backs twisting in ways that should not be
possible.  Cracks and pops filled the room as bones and joints gave way to
implacable pressure.  Blood and vomit fountained from several mouths as
they all fell to the floor.

   Alicia stared without comprehension at the men who had so abruptly and
inexplicably died.  Suddenly, the room reverberated with the sound of
massive wings beating the air and Alicia looked up just in time to shield
her face with a hastily raised arm as the double window in the living room
exploded inward.  A monstrous, glossy black bird glided into the room.  For
a moment, it was like Alicia was seeing it through the waves of heat that
rise from a desert road in midsummer.  Then Alicia gasped as the bird
seemed to collapse in on itself.  For the briefest instant, she saw...

   Alicia screamed in terror, the heels of her shoes kicking divots in the
wooden floor as she tried to escape from something that no sane Creator
could ever allow to exist.  Heedless of the arrows that tore ever deeper
into her flesh, she propelled herself across the room until her progress
was brought to a halt by a wall.  Even then, her feet continued to move
frenetically in an attempt to drive herself farther from...it.

   And then it was gone.  In its place was a tiny Asian woman with hair the
same color as the feathers of the great bird.  She strode purposefully
toward Alicia.  Alicia gibbered in horror as the woman tore the arrows from
her body and pulled her to her feet.  Then Alicia's head was ringing from
the force of the slap that the woman delivered across her face.

   "Get a hold on yourself, child," the woman commanded coldly.

   "What...who are you?" Alicia stammered.

   Rolling her eyes in exasperation, the woman answered, "I am the
nightmare that makes you wake in a cold sweat.  I am the shadow in the dark
that makes your hair stand on end and a shiver go down your spine.  I am
death.  And so are you, child.  Now, act like it!  Stand straight!  Put
your head back!  A wolf does not slump and cower like a cur when it walks
among sheep!"

   Whimpering with the pain from her injuries, Alicia still did her best to
comply; something in the woman's voice allowed for no thought of
disobedience.

   The woman noticed her discomfort, "Yes, little one.  Wood hurts and the
wounds that it inflicts are slow to heal.  Still, the pain will fade in
time.  See that you learn from it while it lasts."

   Returning her stare to the corpse strewn room, Alicia asked fearfully,
"How did you do that?"

   "That is nothing you need concern yourself with for several millennia,"
the woman answered.

   The woman glided across the room to stand over Harry.  He, too, had seen
what had been revealed inside the shimmers of change.  There was nothing of
sanity in the eyes which stared blankly into space, no acknowledgment of
the woman's presence.

   Shaking her head in disbelief, the woman asked, "You disobeyed your
Master and risked his wrath for this?  You risked true death for this?  Did
I just save a fool?"

   "No, uh..."

   "You may call me, Lei."

   "Thank you, Lei," Alicia said humbly, "for saving me.  I'm not a fool. I
just needed to kill him, before my Master took me far from here for good.
He hurt me so much for so long..."

   "Well, finish your business quickly, child, and let us be gone from this
place," Lei interrupted brusquely.

   When Alicia continued to hesitate, Lei turned to face her, a perfect
eyebrow lifted in query.

   "I'm sorry, Lei, it's just that after all he's done to me, I didn't want
his death to be easy."

   With a snort of laughter, Lei answered, "So be it.  Begin your feeding.
You need it.  I shall take care of the rest."

   Alicia knelt and pulled Harry forward.  Pleasure and warmth replaced her
pain as his blood filled her mouth.  As Alicia fed, Lei pulled Harry's
shirt up to bare his skin and placed her hand on his back.  Alicia watched
in fascination as Lei's hand seemed to melt into his flesh and writhing
tendrils shot forth under his skin, spreading across his back from the
point of contact.

   As Harry's body began to convulse, Lei whispered, "Reach out to him with
your mind.  You wanted him to suffer.  Feel his agony.  Revel in it for the
fleeting moment it will last."

   Alicia did as instructed.  His pain was greater than Alicia would have
believed that a human body could endure.  It was so intense that her mind
initially shrank back from it.  But Lei was right, Alicia wanted this.  A
smile twisted the corners of her mouth as she mentally embraced his agony,
savoring it until the last of his life flowed into her.

   Amused, Lei commented, "I understand what Arthur sees in you, girl." The
smile faded from her lips as she continued, "Unfortunately for you, I am
not here by sheer happenstance.  We have business, you and I."

   Alicia glanced up into Lei's eyes and found that she could not look
away. The glinting black orbs seemed to grow larger and larger until they
encompassed her vision and consumed all thought.

   Chapter 30

   Dana fidgeted next to Mia on the bed, checking her watch every few
seconds.  Moments before sunset, she bent and pressed her lips to Mia's. 
She thrilled at the sensation of having the vampiress come to life beneath
her.  The limp, still lips became firm and pressed fervently back against
her own and an arm curled up around her to pull her into a tight embrace.

   The kiss lingered for long minutes until, finally, Dana drew back with a
grin.

   Mia smiled back up at her, "That was an interesting way to wake up. 
What brought that on?"

   Dana snuggled in close as she explained, "When I was a kid, my favorite
story was Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.  I always wondered what it
would be like to bring someone back to life with a kiss.  Now I know. 
Sorta, anyway."

   Mia laughed, "That's the first time I've ever played the part of a
princess in distress." She turned her head to look around the room; her
extended senses searched the apartment as her more mundane ones checked her
immediate surroundings.  "Where's Tom?" she asked.

   "He called a little while ago and said that he would be home soon," Dana
replied, "He also said that we were going to try to get you out of the
city." She gestured toward a few overnight bags that were heaped on the
floor near the door, "I took the liberty of packing some of his things and
what few clothes you have, but I have no idea how we're going to get you
out."

   "Should be easy enough.  I'll just run like hell and meet you outside
the city."

   "I don't think it will be that simple.  On tv, they were talking about
the helicopters that would be patrolling the perimeter of the city.  They
showed one flying at a distance and it was equipped with FLIR." At Mia's
confused look, she explained, "Forward Looking Infra Red.  Along with
regular spotlights, it means that they can spot you from the air and be
able to tell that you're a vampire."

   "If they know I'm there, maybe, but I'm the same temperature as my
surroundings.  If they don't know where I am to begin with, they shouldn't
be able to pick me out of the background.  Right?"

   Dana looked dubious, "I don't know, but would you want to take that
risk?"

   "When Tom gets here, we'll sit down as a group and see if we can come up
with any ideas.  For all we know, he might have already made arrangements."

   "Sounds good." Dana's face took on an exaggerated look of innocence as
her fingers traced lightly up Mia's stomach.  "Whatever shall we do to
amuse ourselves until then?"

   With a laugh, Mia pulled Dana's lips back to hers.

   Quite some time later, Mia rolled languidly off the bed.  Dana remained
flat on her back, too out of breath to move.  Almost purring, she struggled
to sit up and then panted, "Wow.  Just wow.  I remember hearing a joke
about a guy who could lick his eyebrows, but I never thought that I would
ever meet someone who actually could."

   With a broad grin, Mia turned back to face Dana.  "Pffft.  He could only
lick one at a time?" she asked derisively as her tongue snaked out. 
Somewhere in the vicinity of her nose, it divided in two.  Each half
stretched up to daintily smooth an eyebrow into place.

   Dana snorted with laughter and then fell back to the bed in a giggling
fit.  Mia quickly joined her.  Several minutes later, still snickering
occasionally, they crawled out of the bed and began to dress.

   "How long has it been since sundown?" Mia asked.

   Dana dug around in the pile of hastily discarded clothes for a few
seconds before triumphantly pulling her watch from the mix.  "Almost an
hour and a half," she answered, "Damn.  No wonder I'm so tired."

   Mia's face creased with worry, "Shouldn't Tom have been back by now?"

   "Yeah, he should have," Dana replied, her voice showing that she shared
Mia's concern.  She dug her cell phone from the pile of clothes and punched
in his number.  "Straight to voice mail," she reported.

   The two quickly dressed and then Dana called Mark, who also hadn't heard
anything.  Agitated now, Mia unsealed the living room window and peered out
into the dark.  With a hasty, "Stay here!" she leapt from the window and
ran to Tom's car which sat abandoned and askew at the end of the street.

   The roof had been partially torn open and the driver's side door had
been ripped completely off.  Mia could smell blood and the cold scent of
her former Master.  She quickly searched the interior of the vehicle and
pocketed the cell phone she found lodged between the seats.  As she circled
the area looking for any hint as to the direction that Tom had been taken,
she caught another brief whiff of blood scent.

   Following her nose she found a few drops on the ground roughly fifty
yards from the car.  Aligning herself with the car and the blood droplets,
she continued forward.  After another fifty yards, she found more drops. 
As Mia moved on, this pattern continued.  The trail was so perversely easy
to follow that it could be nothing but a trap.  Briefly, she considered
calling Mark or Dana to arrange for reinforcements, but she knew that if
she showed up with help, Arthur would kill Tom immediately, if he hadn't
already.

   Grimly, she pressed on.  There was no other choice.  The trail continued
in a nearly perfect straight line.  She knew where it would end long before
she reached it.  She topped a hill and there it was, the abandoned steel
mill and industrial ghost town in which she had thought they had disposed
of Arthur's body only a few nights before.



   Chapter 31

   The all encompassing darkness was comfortable and safe.  Tom didn't want
to leave it.  But something alien swooped around the fringes of his
consciousness, driving the shadows back.  Unwillingly, he was herded up
into the light.

   As he came to awareness, he was nearly overwhelmed by the sensations
that poured in from his abused body.  His head throbbed with pain.  Idly he
wondered if he had gotten away with a concussion or if his skull was as
fractured as it felt.  He was lying on his side in what seemed to be
rubble; hard, sharp things pressed and poked uncomfortably against him up
and down the length of his body.  After a brief struggle, he managed to
open his eyes.  Even with blurred vision, he could make out a face, only
inches from his own, staring curiously back at him.

   In a soft, cultured voice, Arthur said, "Welcome back, Lieutenant
McNelly.  You were quite difficult to wake, but I just couldn't bear to
allow you to sleep through this."

   Tom felt himself being lifted from the floor by his arm.  He dangled
loosely in Arthur's grip, his knees scraping on the rough floor.  From his
new vantage point he could see that he was in the ruins of a basement, lit
by a multitude of flickering candles.  The portion of the house above him
was intact, or at least the first floor was still in place.  The other half
had collapsed completely, filling the cellar below it with a mound of
rotting wood that ramped up over the sides of the foundation.

   Arthur raised him higher and he could feel rough wood scraping against
the back of his hand and wrist.  Tom knew he should be distressed over his
predicament, but he couldn't even summon enough curiosity to look up. 
Arthur held Tom in place with one hand while holding something in front of
Tom's nose with the other.  Arthur waited patiently until Tom managed to
focus his eyes on the object and then chuckled when Tom gasped in
recognition and fresh fear.

   Tom finally began to struggle, but his blows were too feeble to so much
as inconvenience the immortal.  Silently, Arthur traced the point of the
rusted railroad spike up the length of Tom's arm, stopping just below his
wrist.  Staring into Tom's eyes, Arthur began to push.

   Tom screamed as fresh pain lanced through him.  Hot liquid ran in a
torrent down his arm as the thick, iron spike passed through his flesh and
into the wood beyond.  Desperately, Tom sought to return to the darkness,
to escape from the pain in the oblivion of unconsciousness.  But the alien
presence was still lurking in his mind, and it blocked him from that
comfort.

   "Come now, Tom," Arthur whispered in his ear.  "These are the last
moments of your life.  Surely you don't really want to miss them, however
unpleasant they may be."

   Tom screamed again as Arthur spiked his other arm to the transverse
floor joyce that ran across the basement ceiling.  His arms had been spread
wide apart so that his feet dangled inches from the floor, forcing the
pierced and battered flesh surrounding the spikes to bear his full weight.
Tom gritted his teeth as he tried to get a grip on the white hot agony that
flared brightly each time the tremors of his body tore those awful wounds
anew.  Mercifully, the overloaded nerves in his arms soon numbed and the
pain receded slightly.

   Defiantly, Tom spat in Arthur's face and hissed, "I don't care what you
do to me.  I'm not telling you anything."

   Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise before he threw back his head in
laughter.  "Oh my dear boy," he said condescendingly once the laughter had
faded, "this isn't an interrogation.  Have you learned nothing of us from
your time with Mia?  I already know all of your secrets, from the time you
were twelve and pleasured yourself in the catholic school bathroom after
glimpsing the cleavage of one of the nuns to the fact that Mia is even now
in the bedroom of your apartment along with another delectable morsel.

   "You once used Mia as bait in an attempt to lure me into your pathetic
little trap.  I am merely returning the favor.  I left a trail that she
should easily be able to follow.  On that subject, Thomas, I could use your
advice, as one who, like myself, knows Mia intimately.  What do you think
would hurt her more when she arrives: to find you dead; to find you little
more than a rabid animal; or to be forced to fight you after I turn you
into a true fledgling?  Hmmm, then again, perhaps it would be best to keep
you alive until the moment of her arrival and then throw your still beating
heart at her feet."

   Arthur placed a clawed finger under Tom's chin and pushed upwards until
Tom was forced to meet his eyes.  "No opinion on the subject, Thomas?  Or
are you simply trying to play the part of the strong, silent hero?  Ahhh,
that's it, isn't it?  Would you care to wager on whether I can make you
break that silence?  If you can stay quiet for five minutes, I will leave
you here alive for Mia to find, and neither of you will ever hear from me
again.  If not, I will make you watch as I crush your lady love beneath my
heel before brutally violating her.  Then, the last thing that you see will
be the look of anguish in her eyes as she watches you die."

   Arthur hooked a claw in the neck of Tom's shirt and drew it downward
before pushing the tattered remnants of the garment to the sides to bare
Tom's chest.  Stepping backwards, Arthur pulled his belt loose and twined
the end with the buckle around his hand.  For a minute the only sounds in
the basement were the sharp cracks of leather striking and cutting skin and
Tom's ragged pants for breath.  Then these sounds were joined by a
prolonged wail.

   Not pausing in his labors, Arthur quietly commented, "You lose, Thomas."

   Suddenly, Arthur staggered backwards as pain and fear flashed through
his bond to Alicia.  He took a few steps in the direction of his distressed
fledgling, his hand stretching out as if to touch her across the distance
that separated them.  Wordlessly, he spun about and ran up the pile of
rubble to exit the basement.  As he rushed in Alicia's direction, her pain
faded and was replaced by pleasure and satisfaction.  He slowed and then
stopped as all emotion faded from the bond, and she began to move rapidly
towards him.

   He had been gone from the basement for no more than ten minutes, but
when he returned there were two cars parked on the cracked and potholed
street in front of the collapsed house.  Arthur pushed his awareness into
the basement and watched as five men, four wearing army uniforms and the
other a black suit, picked their way carefully through the rubble. 
Focusing on the one in the suit, Arthur rifled quickly through his
memories.

   He almost gave away his presence with a laugh.  The man, Agent Morris,
Agent Roper's replacement, had placed a tracking device on Tom's shoulder
earlier in the day.  He had thought to use it to track Tom back to Mia. 
With all of the agent's training in the ways of duplicity, it had never
once occurred to him that Tom would be so naive as to keep such a grand
prize in his apartment.

   Arthur watched the men walk slowly and cautiously across the basement.
One of them whispered, "Jesus Christ Almighty," when they finally caught
sight of Tom, who had once more lapsed into unconsciousness.  Again Arthur
had to stifle his laughter; the man's curse was so oddly appropriate under
the circumstances.

   The men rushed forward and quickly determined that they could not free
Tom without a crowbar.  As they clustered around the hanging body, Arthur
walked to the open end of the foundation to cut off their escape.

   Gliding down the ramp of debris, he called out in a voice ringing with
amusement, "Good evening, Agent Morris.  Welcome to the party.  I
understand that you want to meet a vampire; that you want to try to capture
one and tame it."

   Arthur swatted away the arrows that flew towards him as casually and
indifferently as an ordinary man would swipe at annoying insects.  "You
really should be more careful what you wish for," he drawled as he closed
the gap between them.

   Chapter 32

   When Mia arrived at the semi-collapsed house, she found Arthur taunting
and toying with one man in camouflage and another in a suit.  Three other
men, broken and bleeding, were strewn about the room among toppled and
guttering candles.  Mia ignored them all, completely unable to tear her
sight from the form of her injured lover.  If she couldn't hear the slow
and feeble beating of his heart, she would have believed him to be dead. 
Flaps of skin hung loosely from his torso, flayed off by the touch of a
whip.  A low, pained moan of sympathy escaped her lips as she saw the
manner in which he was being suspended from the floor.

   Her attention was drawn by the crack of gunfire, hugely amplified in the
enclosed space.  The man in the suit, now the only one still standing, had
abandoned his bow and raised a large handgun, which he held in a double
handed grip.  Not even Arthur could dodge bullets in such close quarters.
Large bloody holes appeared in the back of Arthur's suit jacket as the
agent rapidly emptied his clip.  If Arthur experienced any pain from these
injuries, he showed no sign of it.  Laughing lightly, he darted forward and
grabbed the agent's hands and gun.  Mia heard the crackle of bones
breaking, and the agent sank to his knees, his face pale with pain.

   Taking advantage of Arthur's distraction, Mia rushed into the basement
with all the speed she could muster.  She raised hands rippling with change
in front of her as she charged.  Her deadly, sharp claws were mere feet
from his back when he spun, dodging her blow even as his free arm flailed
out at her.  She had too much momentum to be able to dodge quickly;
Arthur's arm caught her shoulder and flung her into the wall with such
force that dust filtered down from the weathered floor boards above them.

   As Mia regained her feet, Arthur took hold of the agent's wrists and
swung him forcefully around.  Mia dove back down to the floor and rolled
beneath the blow, hearing the wind whistle around the agent's body as he
passed above her and then the sickening wet thud as he impacted with the
wall.

   Mia sprang to her feet and spun to face her adversary.  Arthur had
dropped the dead agent and now sported claws of his own.

   They circled each other for a moment until Arthur called out, "Wake up,
Thomas!  Your white knight has arrived to save you!" He then cackled with
derisive laughter.

   Tom laboriously raised his head, and his eyes opened to the merest of
slivers.  "Just run, Mia," he croaked despairingly.  "Don't worry about me.
Just run."

   "Yes, Bergthora, why don't you run?" Arthur cried out in delight,
"Hunting you down and catching you would be ever so much fun.  I'll even
give you a minute head start.  Of course, I will amuse myself with your
friend while I wait."

   Mia refused to be distracted.  Gritting her teeth, she altered the
changes to her arms and hands so that her skin became hard and chitinous
and then moved forward to attack.  The room echoed with a sound like
continuous rolling thunder as the two immortals exchanged a flurry of
blows, parries and feints.  Within moments, both were covered in a light
sheen of blood and their clothing was in tatters from where claws had only
narrowly missed striking true.

   After a particularly violent exchange, they separated and circled each
other.  Arthur gazed at Mia with grudging respect, "I have to say, my dear
Bergthora, that fighting for the life of your mate has done wonders for
your cunning and ardor.  I am most impressed.  Most impressed, indeed."

   "Shut up and fight, asshole," Mia hissed as she resumed her attack.

   The two moved around the room in a blur of motion, clawed and armored
fist meeting clawed and armored fist in furious and rapid succession.  Dust
fell in constant streams from the ceiling as the old timbers shook from the
raw noise and fury of those tremendous impacts.

   Seeing an opening, Mia drove her fist at Arthur's head.  He ducked as
his hand came up to take hold of her wrist, his claws grating across her
chitinous armor like nails on a chalkboard.  Spinning, he forced her arm
behind her back and drew it inexorably upward.  Mia grunted in pain as her
shoulder dislocated.  Once Mia's hand was behind her neck, Arthur applied
pressure to force her to her knees and then her stomach.  He straightened
and stomped down on her hand and the neck beneath it to hold her in place.

   "You were a worthy adversary, Mia," he said quietly.  "So much so, that
I almost regret what must happen next, but your Tom and I did have a
wager."

   As Mia heard his zipper descend, she called out in a voice cracked with
pain, "It doesn't have to end like this, Arthur.  Release Tom and I'll
serve you willingly for the rest of my existence."

   "I actually considered that, my dear.  Well, not releasing Tom, but I
did think about simply ripping away your memories of the past few weeks to
return you to how you were when we came to this city.  Alas, dear child,
I'm afraid that you have been replaced, rendered obsolete by a fledgling
who actually appreciates and deserves the Gift that I have given her.  In
fact," he raised his head as he checked the bond to his fledgling, "you
should be meeting her any second now."

   As if summoned, Alicia dropped lightly down into the basement and took
in the scene at a glance.

   "Hello, Alicia, my dear," Arthur greeted her amiably.  "I trust you are
well; I sensed that you had some difficulties earlier."

   "Hello, Master," Alicia replied quietly.  "I was hungry so I went
hunting and ran into one of the groups of vampire hunters.  They hurt me,
but I'm fine now.  Just a little shaken up."

   "I'm glad to hear it, my dear," Arthur said.  "Although we will
certainly have to discuss your disobedience later." Mia was astonished to
hear actual concern and relief in his voice.

   "As you wish, Master," Alica answered as she walked in a slow circle
around Tom.

   She breathed deeply, taking in the delightful aroma of his fear and
despair.  Leaning in, she ran her tongue lightly over his chest, licking up
the blood that still seeped from his flayed skin.  She quivered in pleasure
as the warm fluid trickled down her throat.

   "May I have this one when you're done with him, Master?" she asked.

   Arthur snorted with amusement, "Actually, my dear, I think that would
work out perfectly.  But first, please be so kind as to disrobe the
ungrateful wretch beneath my foot."

   As Alicia strutted over to comply, Arthur twisted his head down until he
could look into Mia's face.  "As I mentioned earlier, Mia, Tom and I had a
wager.  He lost.  Now, I'm sorry to say that I am going to violate you most
gruesomely and then force you to watch as Alicia drains the last bits of
life from your mortal beloved.  Now that I think of it, there is still
plenty of time before dawn.  Perhaps we'll bleed you out a bit and see how
you fare against the feral that he'll become."



   Watching the hope die in her eyes was everything he had hoped it would
be.

   Chapter 33

   Mia stared up at her former Master, wishing that he would stop looking
at her with that arrogant and triumphant smile and just get on with it . 
That she had failed and would pay for that failure with the death of both
herself and her love was punishment enough without being subjected to his
gloating.  She heard Alicia's soft footfalls come to a stop in the vicinity
of her hips and closed her eyes, trying to steel herself against what she
knew was coming next.

   She heard a sharp impact and a soft exclamation of surprise.  Opening
her eyes, she saw that Arthur had lowered his chin to his chest, his face
twisted with confusion, shock and pain.  Following his gaze, she saw the
rough, gray point of one of the splintered pieces of wooden debris that
littered the basement protruding from his chest.

   He spun about and caught Alicia before she could finish her limp descent
to the floor.  Clutching her lifeless body tightly to him, he whispered,
"Why, Alicia?  Why?" over and over again.  His words resonated with such
deep sorrow that, had he been anyone else, Mia would have wept in sympathy.

   But he was Arthur.  Now freed of the foot that had held her to the
floor, Mia rolled to her feet and stood behind him.  He was so lost in his
grief that he took no notice of her movements.  Her uninjured arm moved
swiftly forward, and she took a firm hold on the shard of wood that still
stuck out from his back.  Withdrawing it slightly, she changed its angle
and drove it home once more, this time piercing the heart that Alicia had
missed.  Still holding the fledgling in his cold embrace, the Master
crumpled to the floor.

   Mia kicked him over onto his back to make certain that he was truly
dead, but she had no time to savor her hollow victory.  The profusion of
candles that Arthur had used to light this place had been scattered; first
by his battle with the soldiers and the FBI agent and then by his fight
with her.  Most had guttered and gone out, but some had come to rest among
the piles of dry and moldering wood from the collapsed portions of the
house.  Fires had sprung up in several parts of the basement and were
spreading rapidly.

   Mia ran to Tom's side.  Even with her supernaturally acute hearing, she
had to press her ear to his chest to make out the faint beating of his
heart.

   Although he was unconscious, she still whispered sadly, "I'm sorry, Tom,
but this is really going to hurt."

   Supporting his weight as much as possible, Mia took hold of the head of
one of the spikes and pulled.  With a groan of tortured wood, it came free
in her hand.  She did the same with its twin and lowered Tom to the floor.
Hastily she licked around the massive wounds in his wrists.  With the fire
spreading, there was no time for a full healing, but hopefully this quick
effort would slow the rate at which his life, already so diminished, seeped
from his veins.

   Lifting him gently over her shoulder, she ran out of the basement.  Once
clear of the fire, she laid Tom on the ground and leaned over him.  She was
astonished to see that his eyes were open.  He looked up at her with
preternatural calm.

   "I love you, Mia," he whispered before his eyes closed and his face went
slack.  She could just barely make out the sound of his heart faltering in
his chest.  There was no time for hesitation; no time to ask for consent.
If he rejected what he was about to receive, she would gladly stay outside
with him until the sun's warm rays caressed their bodies.  Biting deeply
into her own tongue, Mia bent to give him the Gift with a kiss.

   When the deed was done and his heart had beat for the last time, she sat
up and closed his sightless eyes with gentle fingers.  She had no idea if
the Gift would take: his death had been caused by mundane injuries rather
than the draining bite of a vampire.  Cold tears rolled down her cheeks as
she softly lifted his head onto her lap and settled down to wait.

   In the distance, she heard the heavy thump of a helicopter's rotors
beating the still night air.  It was getting closer.  She could stay in
that place no longer.  Placing Tom's body over her shoulder, she put her
back toward the sound and ran.  As the landscape blurred past, she pulled
his cell phone from her pocket and made several brief calls.

   When she reached the bank of the Allegheny river, she stopped in sudden
confusion.  Quick glances up and down the river revealed that there were no
nearby bridges, although the collapsed ruins of a piling bespoke of where
one had once stood.  She could not turn back or travel along the bank in
either direction without the helicopter catching sight of her.  She snorted
in self disgust at the sudden realization that Tom no longer had to breathe
any more than she did.

   Well after the helicopter had passed by, Mia emerged on the opposite
side of the river.  Splashing to shore, she hurried off to make the
rendevous she had arranged with Mark and Dana.

   Chapter 34

   The fire in the basement had spread to cover the ceiling with a blanket
of orange and blue flame by the time Alicia sat up and smoothly rose to her
feet.  As she turned to regard Arthur's body, ripples of change coursed
across her form.  Her body mass and height rapidly diminished, her skin
became several shades darker and her hair grew longer and more glossy.

   Lei truly regretted that this had become necessary, but she had warned
Arthur of the consequences of disturbing the balance between human and
vampire too severely.  And the balance had been disturbed, if not in the
way that he had intended or believed.  When she had entered dormancy the
prior morning, the city had been full of ferals.  In fact, there had been
more vampires in the city than had ever existed before in the entire world.
But, by the time she had awoken this evening, only a handful remained and
their hungering, raging little minds had been snuffed out before the light
had fully faded from the sky.

   Humanity had adapted to their presence far more quickly than she would
have expected, but, even if they had reacted slowly, the result of any war
between vampire and human was a foregone conclusion.  However strong a
vampire might be at night, humanity's ability to move about during the day
was an insurmountable advantage.  She, herself, was a perfect example. 
During the dark hours she was a veritable goddess, but, during the day, a
determined child with a stick could end her existence without fear.

   The existence of her kind depended on their ability to hide in the
shadows; to conceal themselves among their prey.  That was the reason why
she had created the law.  At this point, concealment was still possible. 
Most humans would think of vampires only in the context of the images of
the mindless ferals that had spread so quickly throughout their
communications networks.  Most remained unaware that sentient vampires
existed and, as the government's lies were disseminated ever more widely,
that ignorance would persist.

   There were a few who knew the truth.  Because of them, Lei and her
children would have to be more careful for a time.  Lei could easily
envisage special forces teams around the world scanning crowds carefully
with IR gear.  Most of her kind, however, were capable of compulsion and
memory alterations, or were under the protection of one who was.  It was
unlikely that any would be revealed.  In the absence of further incidents,
fear and paranoia would gradually be replaced by natural human apathy and
things would return to normal.

   Had she waited any longer to bring an end to Arthur's crusade, it would
not have been so easy.  She could sense a number of her children converging
on this city, coming to enforce the one and only true law that bound them.
In the holds of ships, the cargo bays of planes and in the backs of trucks
they moved ever closer, as cold and implacable as a glacier.  Had humans
witnessed any of the titanic conflicts that would have ensued if Arthur had
still been alive upon the arrival of the others, no mortal would have
rested until every last nook and cranny of the planet had been thoroughly
searched and purged of her kind.

   Her reverie was interrupted by a roar as the ceiling behind her
collapsed in a gout of flame.  Given his age and vitality, she knew that
she should decapitate Arthur to ensure that he stayed dead, but she lacked
the will to do so.  The fire would have to be sufficient.  Giving Arthur's
body a final, silent salute, she leapt from the basement as the remaining
timbers collapsed to bury him forever.  He had been one of her favorite
children, and her world would be diminished by his absence.  While she had
eschewed the ties of Mistress and fledgling in his case, she had watched
and guided him over the centuries, although he had never known it.

   He had been cruel, sadistic and utterly lacking in anything resembling
compassion or mercy; all qualities that are necessary to withstand the
remorseless grind of centuries.  Whether it was because of these qualities
or despite them, she had loved him in her own way, as she loved all of her
children.  Perhaps that was why she had faltered at the last minute and
missed his heart with the improvised stake.  Had Bergthora not quickly
corrected her error, Lei would have been forced to go through the tedious
exercise of erasing everyone's memories, healing their injuries, and
repeating the scene from the beginning.  She wondered if she would have had
the strength of will to impale Arthur a second time.

   Despite everything, he had accomplished his purpose and left behind a
powerful legacy.  In spite of the government's best efforts, the word
"vampire" was on everyone's lips and in their minds.  For the masses, this
would not last long in the absence of further incidents.  Within a few
weeks, most would decide that the government was right, that it had been
nothing but a disease that had now been contained.  Then Brittany would
find a new boyfriend or Lindsey would go back into rehab, and the media and
the masses would forget these dark hours.  But a small nagging fear would
remain in the minds of many artists, scientists and statesman.  That fear
would exhort them to greater efforts, and inspire them, at least in small
ways, in every aspect of their lives.  Fear was, after all, an excellent
motivator.  The world could well be on the brink of a golden age and
humanity would owe it all to a monster.

   She walked slowly around the perimeter of the foundation, until she
reached a thick cluster of bushes.  She gestured and the catatonic form of
the real Alicia slid out from the rough concealment.  Lei's original intent
had been to carry out the reality of the charade she had just played; to
have the fledgling kill her Master and die in the process from the backlash
of the bond.  That plan had not survived meeting the girl in person.  There
were depths of savagery and lust in Alicia that had not yet begun to be
sounded.  Lei had been sufficiently intrigued to spare the fledgling's
life.

   Not that sparing her had taken any significant effort.  As distracted as
he had been, it had been child's play to keep Arthur from noticing that her
position did not exactly match where the bond indicated she should be.  It
had been only slightly more difficult to keep him from consciously
acknowledging that the bond continued to exist even though he believed that
he was holding his lifeless fledgling in his arms.

   Change distorted Lei's form until she was again the great raven. 
Gripping the shoulders of her fledgling prize with talons harder than
steel, she took to the air.  As she passed over the river, a glittering
black eye turned downwards to check the progress of the last crucial part
of her plan: the witnesses.  She focused first on the mortal.  She had
sealed the wounds on his chest in the hope of prolonging his life, but that
had apparently been too little, too late.  Her senses delved deeper and she
saw that the Outsider was already taking hold inside his flesh.  The Gift
had been given and received.

   That would do.  Even as her newest child, he still had strong ties to
the mortal world.  He would relay the news of tonight's events to the
mortal authorities.  Word would spread that the two beings at the root of
the city's strife had been eliminated, no matter what terms the government
and media couched it in.  The others would return to their normal environs
and abandon the hunt for the law breakers.

   Out of idle curiosity, she next examined the mind of Bergthora, or Mia,
as she now chose to be known.  What she found intrigued her almost as much
as Alicia had.  Lei had always considered Mia to be weak and unworthy of
the Gift, but, perhaps, her strength was merely of a different sort than
Lei was used to.  This pair warranted further observation, and Lei decided
that perhaps she wouldn't travel quite so far away as she had planned.

   On sudden whim, Lei froze Mia's mind and swooped in to land near her. 
Changing from avian form to human, she quickly pulled a small packet from
her own pocket and pushed it into Tom's.  It was a small thing that she had
acquired only because she despised waste.  To her it was nothing, but to
this pair it could mean everything.  Her task complete, Lei again took
wing, releasing Mia's mind only when she was well out of sight.

   Chapter 35

   When Tom's awareness returned, he found himself in a very dark place. 
He tried to lift his hand to his face, but there was not enough room.  He
could hear the crinkle of plastic above him, though he could see nothing.
Had he been buried alive?  He began to thrash around, seeking escape.  A
cool hand reached out of the darkness and ran soothingly across his cheek.

   "It's okay, Tom," Mia's voice said from the dark.  "We're in the trunk
of Dana's car.  We're safe."

   As he calmed, Tom noticed a peculiar sensation in his mind; a bubble of
emotion seemed to float on the edge of his consciousness.  A bubble that
radiated with warmth.  No, not just with warmth, he realized, but with
love.

   His voice muted with wonder, he asked, "Is that you, Mia?  Inside my
head, I mean."

   "Yes," she answered, and he could feel a tinge of amusement among the
warmth.

   "You're beautiful," he whispered.

   There was a flurry of awkward movement and a few thunks as her limbs
found the limits of the confined space the hard way.  Then her cool lips
were pressing against his.  It was then that he realized that he felt no
pain despite the severe injuries he had suffered.  Although the bubble that
was Mia should have given it away, it was only now that he truly understood
the implications.

   "Am I a vampire?" he asked.  He could feel worry, concern and a bit of
guilt through the bubble.  Those emotions faded into confusion as Mia
realized that, although he was a little fearful and uncertain, he wasn't
upset.

   "Yes," Mia replied.  "I'm sorry, but..."

   "Shhh," he interrupted.  "It's okay.  I thought I was dead for sure. 
You have no reason to be sorry.  In fact, thanks for saving me."

   "You're not angry," Mia said.  As she was aware of his emotions through
the bond, it was a statement of surprised fact rather than a question.

   "Why would I be?" he asked gently.  "I know you, so I also know that
being a vampire does not make one a monster or change who they truly are."

   Lips again pressed against his and lingered until the trunk suddenly
popped open and the tarp was pulled back.  Tom looked up to find Mark and
Dana staring down at them.

   "Ha!" Mark said.  "I told you they were canoodling.  You owe me a beer."

   "Pig," Dana muttered, before grudgingly admitting, "But a pig who was
right."

   Tom could hear their hearts beating.  He could almost feel the warmth
flowing off of them.  A ravenous hunger rose from his core and, for the
first time, he experienced the odd sensation of his fangs extending.  As he
began to lurch out of the trunk, Mark and Dana jumped back in surprise.

   Mia threw her arm across his chest to restrain him.  "Calm down, Tom. 
When a new vampire wakes up for the first time, he always wakes up hungry.
Hunger can make you irrational.  You can control the hunger.  Just hang in
there and I'll get you fed.  Okay?"

   Her words had a bigger effect upon him than he would have thought
possible.  Once again in control, he climbed out of the trunk and then
turned to assist Mia in doing the same.

   He looked around at his surroundings curiously.  The car was parked near
a rustic cabin surrounded on all sides by thick forest.  A small dirt road
which ended at the cabin provided the only access.

   "Where are we?" he asked.

   "My Dad's old hunting cabin outside Medix Run," Dana replied, "I figured
that it would be a safe place to hide until everything calms down.  There's
even a little root cellar under a trap door in the main room.  It's damp
and dirty, but it'll be dark."

   Mia led Tom over to the porch.  "Sit here and don't hurt anyone," she
ordered, "I'll be back soon."

   Tom immediately sat as she had told him to.  When he looked at her with
confusion and a hint of fear, she explained gently, "When you took me in, I
told you about the other effects of the bond.  Because I gave you the Gift,
I'm...  Well, technically, I'm your Master.  Or Mistress.  Whatever." She
bent to kiss him lightly on the forehead.  "I promise I won't abuse it."

   Mia ran off into the woods, and Dana went inside to open the windows to
air out the musty camp.  When they were gone, Mark sat down near his old
friend with a sigh.

   "Well, ain't this just some shit?" he commented darkly.  "How are you
holding up?"

   "If you had told me back when I was assigned to investigate the murders
that it would result in me becoming a vampire, I would have had you
committed.  I'm not going to lie to you, Mark, I'm still not sure what to
make of all this.  I love Mia, and I know that if she hadn't turned me, I
would be dead.  Under the circumstances, I'm certainly not mad at her.  In
fact, I'm grateful.  But still..."

   When it became apparent that Tom wasn't going to continue, Mark asked
quietly, "What's it like?"

   "Hard to describe.  Everything is clearer, brighter.  As dark as it is,
I can make out every leaf on every tree in perfect clarity.  I can not only
hear some small animals moving around in the woods, but I can also make out
the beating of their hearts.  Oh, and the smells!" Gesturing toward a
section of forest, he continued, "There is a field of flowers right past
that stretch of woods.  I can distinguish the separate odors of more than
five different kinds.  The rich, earthy scent of the forest is like nothing
I could have imagined.  If that were all there was to it, I would be
ecstatic.  But there's another side.

   "When you and Dana opened the trunk, I could smell you both, and you
smelled good.  Good enough to eat.  I could hear your hearts beating in
your chests, and the sigh of breath passing through your lungs.  It made me
hungry, Mark.  A ravenous, overwhelming hunger that I couldn't control or
ignore.  If it hadn't been for Mia..." he broke off with a shudder.

   Dana had emerged unnoticed from the camp and overheard the last. 
Dropping to her knees behind Tom, she embraced him lightly from behind,
"We'll help you get through this, Tom.  We know you wouldn't really hurt
us."

   Tom reached up to squeeze her hand lightly in thanks even as he shook
his head.  "That's just it: I think I would have hurt you.  Part of me
would have been screaming in horror, but the hunger was in control.  Mia
has said a few times that new vampires need to feed when they rise.  I hope
that means that the hunger I felt is unusual, even unique, but what if it's
not?  What if it's like that every time?"

   Dana patted his shoulder soothingly.  "Look at this logically, Tom. 
You've been around Mia for a while now.  You know that she's a decent
person.  She could have fed on us at any time, but hasn't.  That's so even
though you know she's had to have been hungry at least a few times.  If she
can control the hunger, you can, too."

   "That's what I told her and what I've been telling myself.  I hope we're
right."

   The three sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes until Mark
began to snicker.  When the other two turned to look at him questioningly,
he raised a hand in supplication.  "Sorry to break the mood, but it was
getting a little maudlin.  I was just looking forward to Mia getting back.
She's already taught Tommy here to sit.  Maybe she'll teach him how to roll
over or fetch next."

   With a scowl of mock indignation, Tom said, "Go ahead and yuck it up,
big guy.  Just remember, piss me off enough and you just might end up
happily fetching my slippers every night." By way of demonstration, Tom
bared the fangs that he hadn't quite figured out how to retract.

   The snickers turned into guffaws as Mark blurted out, "I don't think so,
slave boy.  As I recall, your Mistress ordered you to sit still and not
hurt anyone." His laughter increased in volume as he added, "Well at least
buying you a Christmas present will be easy this year.  All I have to do is
find a place that sells latex body suits and ball gags."

   Dana began to sputter with laughter of her own as she joined in on the
abuse.  "On the bright side, Tom, turning into a vampire got rid of that
little gut you were growing.  You might even look good in nothing but a
leather g-string and nipple clamps."

   Tom did his best to maintain an air of wounded dignity, but their
laughter was too infectious.  When Mia returned with two deer in tow, she
found the three of them clutching onto each other gasping for breath as
they tried to recover from their merriment.

   At the sight of them, Mia's guilt over making light use of the power of
suggestion to nudge Mark and Dana's minds so that they would be more apt to
apply reason to the situation than fear or superstition faded.  The
transition from mortal to vampire was traumatic enough without adding
rejection from those you cared about.

   Walking up to the trio, she shook her head in amusement, and addressed
Mark and Dana, "You two really might want to go inside for this.  It can
be...unpleasant."

   Once they had gone into the camp, Mia turned to Tom.  "Let your hunger
loose," she directed.

   Immediately, the ravenous hunger that he had felt earlier resurfaced, as
strong as ever.  He focused on the deer's heartbeat and moved forward.

   When he rose from the carcass with a last shudder of pleasure, he
commented, "Definitely not surf and turf, but there were benefits that I've
never gotten from any steak."

   Mia smiled up at him from where she had finished feeding on her own
deer. "Yeah, I think we'll be able to make do with this."

   Tom replied, "I don't see why we couldn't.  You've been doing some
amazing things since you switched to animals." He was astounded by the
massive rush of guilt that flowed through the bond.  "What's the matter?"
he asked, alarmed.

   Her eyes downcast, Mia confessed, "There should have been ten survivors
at the hotel.  Not nine." As she had expected, her words inspired a turmoil
of emotions in her lover's mind.  When they settled down, she was surprised
but ecstatic that love, strong and undiminished, remained as his primary
emotion.

   "You were pretty beat up that night.  I'm guessing that you felt pretty
much like I did when the trunk opened?" At her nod, he continued, "I can
hardly fault you for that.  If you hadn't stopped me, I would have attacked
our friends.  I wouldn't have been able to stop myself."

   "You're not horribly disappointed in me?"

   "How could I be?  But, from now on, let's promise each other that we
will stick to our furry friends.  Okay?"

   "I promise," she said.

   "So, not to change the subject, but what was that Arthur called you? 
Bergthora?"

   "With all that was happening, with all your injuries, you managed to
remember that?" she asked incredulously.

   "Mighty hard to forget."

   With a sigh, Mia muttered, "I told you that I came from a village in
eastern Russia that had been settled by the Norse.  You didn't really think
Mia was my given name, did you?"

   "So what was your full given name?"

   "Why on earth would you want to know that?"

   "Well, if I'm going to be married to a woman for eternity, I figure that
I should at least know her real name."

   Mia said softly, "Bergthora Aerickova."

   As Tom stifled a snicker, she said defensively, "For the time and place,
it was a very respectable name, I'll have you know."

   She was silent for a moment before adding loftily, "Married?  What makes
you think I'll have you?  You're already my slave, so what's in it for me?"
When Tom began to sputter, she relented, "I'm joking.  Now, as Ms.  Bara
would say, 'kiss me, my fool.'"

   As they pressed together, they heard something crinkle in Tom's pants
pocket.  Perplexed, he reached in and pulled out a ziplock bag containing
several sheets of paper.  When he opened it, he found each page was divided
into four columns, two of numbers and two of words, all written in a neat
script.

   "What do you make of this?" he asked.

   "Where did you get it?"

   "Beats me, but the only people I've been around all night are you,
Arthur and Alicia."

   "You remembered Bergthora, but can't recall who stuck their hands in
your front pocket?"

   "As you might recall, I was unconscious for a lot of it."

   "True.  Well, I think we can rule Arthur out, but why would Alicia give
you this?  Why would she even have it?  I never did."

   "You know what it is?"

   "Look at the third column.  It's all bank names.  I think this is a list
of all of Arthur's accounts and the passwords to access them."

   "Huh.  That would mean..."

   "Yeah.  We're filthy, stinking rich."

   They sat in silence for a time, considering their unexpected good
fortune, before Tom spoke up, "Think you can teach me how to do that change
thingy?" As he asked, Mia caught several strong images from his mind.

   With a burst of laughter, she cried out, "I can't believe you!  I give
you the gift of immortality and incredible physical and mental abilities
and the first thing you think to use it for is to make your penis bigger?!
Dana's right.  Men are pigs."

   "Amen, sister," Dana said with a chuckle from behind them as she and
Mark emerged from the cabin.

   "Well, if you kids are going to be okay, Dana and I had better get back
to the city before anyone gets suspicious," Mark said.  As he hobbled off
towards the car, he stopped and turned to face Tom.  "Before I go, though,
let's hear it."

   "Hear what?" Tom asked, confused.

   Switching to his best Bela Lugosi impersonation, Mark replied, "I vant
to suck your blood."

   Laughing uproariously at his own humor, and ignoring the rolled eyes and
grunts of disgust from everyone else, Mark resumed his trek.

   Dana lingered behind, "Um, I kinda wanted to ask you two something."

   "Ask away," Mia replied.

   "Well, I was thinking.  In all the movies, vampires have minions to take
care of them during the day.  Dracula had Renfield.  Dandridge had Billy
Cole.  I was thinking..."

   "You want to live with us?" Mia asked, nonplused.

   "Well, yeah.  If that's okay with you two," Dana answered shyly.

   With the bond, there was no need for Tom and Mia to confer.  Standing,
they walked over to the embarrassed young woman and wrapped their arms
around her.

   "Welcome to our really weird family," Tom said with a grin.

   "And if you're good, we won't even make you eat bugs," Mia dead panned.

   Laughing somewhat uncertainly, Dana promised to return as soon as she
could, and then walked off to join Mark in the car.

   After Mark and Dana had left, Tom and Mia sat entwined on the porch
until the sky began to brighten with the coming dawn.  For the first time,
they dared to talk about the, hopefully, long and happy future that awaited
them.

   Neither of them noticed the monstrous bird that watched them from the
middle branches of a huge oak tree just inside the forest.

   Lei watched the pair until the horizon began to brighten with the coming
day.  With a caw that sounded suspiciously like laughter, she flapped her
monstrous wings and took flight toward the cabin she had appropriated for
Alicia and herself.  She was almost giddy as she considered this new
experiment that could potentially occupy centuries.

   Although the Gift granted the potential of immortality, the reality was
far more limited.  Lei had yet to find a single other being whose desire
for life was as indomitable as her own.  When she had first joined with the
Outsider, she had given the Gift to all of the great philosophers of the
day, whether they wanted it or not.  The thought of what their exceptional
minds could accomplish with an eternity to work with had made the future
seem so bright.  She had been sorely disappointed when few had lasted so
much as a decade and none longer than a century.

   Most had ended their own existence almost immediately, unable to contend
with the crushing guilt that came from taking the lives of others to
sustain their own.  Others, unwilling to give their loved ones what they
perceived to be a curse, gave into despair when friends, spouses, children
and grandchildren grew old, withered and died while they, themselves,
remained unchanged.  A final few had been unable to bear an eternity of
endless night.  Unwilling to exist forever without the sun's touch, they
had instead decided to greet it.

   Since that time, Lei had chosen the recipients of the Gift based on
strength of will, innate intelligence and absolute callousness towards
others.  These criteria didn't work as well as she might have hoped.  Even
the most cold hearted eventually succumbed to madness when the very nations
in which they had been born grew decadent, collapsed and were consigned to
the dung heap of history.  Time marches ever onward, and only a very rare
few could keep pace.

   In nearly seven thousand years, she had given the Gift no more than
thirty times.  Now that Arthur was gone, only four remained.  Of those, the
eldest was barely a thousand, and the rest significantly younger.  As for
the rest of the double handful of her kind, fledglings of fledglings, Mia
was among the eldest.  Nothing, it seemed, lasted forever other than Lei
herself.

   Perhaps the answer had been in front of her all along, ignored and
disdained.  Certainly, Lei had never had much use for the emotion other
than as a tool to get what she wanted.  Could love allow Mia and Tom to
endure where less gentle traits had failed?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  Only
time would tell.  Time, however, was one thing Lei had in abundance.


   

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