midnight kiss
by
rebecca york


This is what they're saying about Rebecca York:

"Rebecca York delivers page-turning suspense."

--Nora Roberts

"Rebecca York's writing is fast-paced, suspenseful and loaded with
tension."

"A true master of intrigue."

--Jayne Ann Krentz

--Rave Reviews

"No one sends more chills up and down your spine than the very creative
and imaginative Ms.  York!"

--Melinda Heifer, Romantic Times

"Rebecca York's writing is sharp and snappy, a cut above..."

--The Baltimore Sun She writes a fast-paced, satisfying thriller.  "

--Jill Lai, UPI "always tense, always terrific!"

--Ann Wassail, Ann's Worm

This is what they've said about 43 LIGHT STREET:

On.  SHATTERED VOWS:

"Superlative suspense that will make the hairs on the back of your neck
stand up and scream for help ... a strong love story to win your
heart."

On WHISPERS IN THE NIGHT:

"lA] masterfully plotted novel of romantic suspense."

On ONLY SKIN DEEP:

"lA] strong romance and a cunning mystery."

On TRIAL BY FIRE:

"43 Light Street keeps getting better and better!"

On HOPSCOTCH:

"An electrifying foray into hi-tech skullduggery and sizzling
romance."

On CRADLE AND ALL:

heart stopping suspense, daring adventure and uplifting romance.  "

On WHAT CHILD IS THIS?  :

"Chilling suspense and snowballing excitement from a master of
intrigue."

Romantic times (U.  S~4.  )

"I wish you weren't afraid of me,"

He hadn't meant to say that.  Last night he tried to convince himself
that fear was the safest emotion between them.  Looking into her eyes,
he felt himself being drawn to her.  Unable to summon the strength
resist his own desires.  Amazed, he found his mouth lowering to hers.

Her lips parted, warm and welcoming.  Blood pounded in his veins.  He
should pull away, end this dangerous liaison before it was too late.
But he couldn't.  Not yet.

Tortured, he pulled his mouth away from hers.  "You don't want to get
mixed up with me," he forced out.

He couldn't stop the images storming his mind, the same images of a
willing Jessica that had bedevilled him since he fast met her.

Except now he'd tasted the sweetness of her lips .  and he knew that
one taste would never be enough.

Dear Reader,

We hope you enjoy Midnight Kiss, our biting tale of obsession and
murder.  We stayed up late researching vampires, bats and things that
go bump in the night.  Actually,.  with all those spooky legends, it
was hard to sleep!

Thanks to all of you who told us how much you like the 43 Light Street
series and requested encore performances by previous heroes and
heroines.  We'll again be featuring detective Jo O'Malley and her
husband, Cam Randolph--as well as a ghost from her past--in a haunting
story of divided loyalties.  Watch for Tangled Vows, coming to you in
October.

And we're not running.  out of unusual twists!  Right now we've got two
more 43 Light Street stories in the making!

All our best thrills and chills,

Rebecca York a. k. a. Ruth Glick and Eileen Buckholtz

Midnight Kiss

SILHOUETTF

DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?

If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was
reported unsold and destroyed by a retailer.  Neither the author nor
the publisher has received any payment for this book.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents
are pure invention.

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in
part in any form.  This edition is published by arrangement with
Harlequin Enterprises II B. V. The text of this publication or any part
thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means,- electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the
written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
withaut the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or
cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.

First published in Great Britain 1996 by Silhouette Books, Eton House,
18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 I SR

Ruth Glick and Eileen Buckholtz 1994

Silhouette, Silhouette Intrigue and Colophon are Trade Marks of
Harlequin Enterprises II B. V.

ISBN 0 373 22273 4

46-9608

Made and printed in Great Britain

Directory

43 LIGHT STREET

~DVENTUR'ES IN TRAVEL

ABIGAIL FRANKLIN, Ph.  D. Clinical Psychology

INNER HARBOUR PRODUCTIONS

THE LIGHT STREET FOUNDATION

KATHRYN MARTIN-McQUADE, M. D. Branch Office, Medizone Labs

O'MALLEY AND O'MALLEY

Detective Agency

LAURA ROSWELL, LL.  B.

Attorney at Law

SABRINA'S FANCY

Lobby

STRUCTURAL DESIGN GROUP

NOEL ZACHARIAS

Paralegal Service

I, ROSSINI

Superintendent

Lower Level

Dear Reader:

We are delighted to bring you this daring series from Silhouette.

Intrigue ~ where resourceful, beautiful women flirt with danger and
risk everything for irresistible, often trjacherous

Intrigue where the stories are full of heart-stopping suspense and
mystery lurks around every corner.

You won't be able to resist Intrigue's exciting mix of danger,
deception.  and desire.

Please write and let us know what you think of our selection of
intrigue novels.  We'd like to hear from you.

Jane Nicholls Silhouette Books PO Box 236 Thornton Road Croydon

Surrey

CR9 3RU

Chapter One

The window rattled in its frame, and he~ whole body went rigid with
amixture of longing and dread.

L'flee a child afraid of nameless horrors, she burrowed farther under
the bed covers.  "No.  Leave me alone.  I don't want you," she
whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and tensing every muscle in
denial.

For just a moment she basked in the potency of her resolve.  This time
it would be different.  This time she would conquer the need to be with
her midnight lover.

The barest brush of wings seemed to flutter against the casement.  But
she wouldn't look.  She was stronger than he.

"Let me in, my sweet.  Don't lie to me.  Or to yourself.  You know you
want to feel my kiss."

"No."  This time her protest carried less conviction.

His voice was a soft buzzing in her ears.  His words pure sensation.
Rich and seductive.  Like a blur of coalescent warmth that flooded her
with a sweet, enticing fire.  Tendrils of longing wove their way past
her defenses, coiling around her body, seeping into the very essence of
her being.

With trembling fingers, she plucked at the scarf around her neck.  The
scarf she'd tied in place to hide the tiny marks that marred her
neck.

His brand.  On her flesh.  On her soul.

"Come to me..."

The scarf fluttered away, forgotten.  Throwing aside the covers, she
climbed from the bed and stood barefoot on the soft carpet, her face
turned toward the moonlight streaming in through the diamond-shaped
windowpanes.

"Please.  I can't see you."

"You will."

Like a sleepwalker, she crossed the space between them and reached for
the latch.

One moment she was alone in the room, yearning toward a phantom as
insubstantial as mist.  In the next, he was beside her, real and solid.
She stared up into his eyes, needing to see the fire in their burning
depth.

"At last, my love."  His long, pale fingers combed -through her raven
hair, stroked down her arms, brushed tantalizingly across the gossamer
fabric that covered her breasts.

She moaned softly, holding out her arms to him, feeling the strong
throbbing of the pulse in her neck.  "I want you."

"Oh, yes."  His lips teased along her hairline, across her cheek, down
to the warm hollow of her throat, sending a stab of white-hot need to
her core.

Stepping away, he reached for the tiny row of buttons that closed the
front of her gown.  Her flesh burned where his fingers touched.  She
swayed on her feet, feeling his gaze like a physical brand.  Then he
swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.

In a kind of drugged haze, she stared at him' through half-closed eyes,
her limbs too heavy to lift.

Kneeling beside her on the coverlet, he pulled off his shirt so that he
was naked to the waist.  Then he took her small hand in his larger one
and flattened it against his pounding heart.

"Feel how you excite me," he whispered.

Speech was beyond her.  But it was a far deeper response that he sought
as his hands and lips began to move over her body.  She remembered
this, the deep sensations that he aroused.  The need beyond endurance
shimmering through her be' rag Oh yes, she had craved this, even when
she had tried to bar him from her bedroom.

"Ah, swee~, let me give you pleasure," he crooned as he took her to
still greater heights.  "The ultimate pleasure.  Even as you give
yourself to me."

And then his mouth was on her neck, and she felt a tiny stab of pain.

She winced, and he gentled her with his hands as he began to draw her
life force into himself.

A SHIVER STAgrF.  D at the base of Jessica Adams's spine and traveled
upward, ending with a tingling sensation in her scalp.  slamming the
book closed, she set it quickly on the lamp table beside the sofa.
Every time she got to the scene where the nameless wbman opened the
window to the vampire who was sapping the life from her body, she had
the same reaction.  Yet she kept coming back to the story.  Coming back
to the scene.  Because she wanted to understand the author-Matthew
Griffon.

Eight months ago when she'd confided to Sabrina Barkley that she was
looking for the right subject to energize her budding career as a movie
director, her friend had suggested that she read Matthew Griffon's
works.

Right from the first taste of his brooding pro~e, she'd been hooked.
Apparently she wasn't the only one.  His evocative words were both
fascinating and frightening--and had earned him a following that had
put him on the New York Times Bestseller List again and again.

Jessica glanced at the hardback book, its shiny black cover adorned
with a red, red mouth that showed the barest hint of fangs protruding
from between the thin lips.  There were no other illustrations-not even
a picture of the author on the inside flap.  The biographical sketch
seemed designed to hide the facts of his life rather than reveal them.
Matthew Griffon lived on a secluded estate somewhere on the rocky Maine
coast.  He was in his mid-thirties.  And his first book had established
him as a master of the horror genre.  End of story.

Jessica sighed in exasperation.  He wasn't even listed in Who's Who or
Contemporary ~4uthors.  So she'd begun to fill in the blanks with wild
speculations.  Did he live in a crumbling gothic mansion with a dungeon
in the basement?  Did visitors mysteriously disappear?  And what about
the man himself?  She turned him into the Phantom of the Opera--with a
mask covering half his ruined face.  Or pictured him with dark piercing
~yes and black hair the way she saw the vampire in Midnight Kiss.  More
than once she'd superimposed the image fangs on the face she'd conjured
up.  Yet it was all fantasy--as insubstantial as vapor.

With a sense of inevitability, Jessica went back to his writing, his
phenomenal ability to get inside the head of his heroine, his
understanding of her longings and emotions.  Every time she read his
books, Jessica felt the power of his words, even though she didn't
really know how he pulled it off.  In fact, she'd been so-dueed just as
effectively as his most naive reader.

Which meant she had an additional terror to confront.  She'd gambled
her directing career on the premise that she could translate the
brooding atmosphere he created on the printed page into flickering
images on a movie screen.

The chiming of the grandfather clock in the hall brought her back to
more immediate concerns.  Four o'clock already.  And she was supposed
to meet Richie Elsworth, her production manager, in Hampstead.

Jamming her feet into a pair of running shoes and grabbing the script,
she headed for the door.

The Sdarlet House apartment she'd bought from Abby Franklin was within
walking distance of her office at 43 Light Street.  But it was a good
thirty miles from the sleepy little Carroll County town where they'd be
shooting Midnight Kiss, and traffic was worse than usual.  Jessica
hated to be late for appointments, and she found her hands tightening
painfully on the steering wheel.  Then she made a conscious effort to
let the Eric Clapton song on the radio soothe her nerves, telling
herself there was a good chance Riohie, who was coming from College
Park, would be late, too.

An instructor in film arts at the University of Maryland, he was
moonlighting for her because he wanted to see his credit line at the
end of a theatrical release.

She understood the hungry feeling.  Some people assumed the daughter of
Cedric R. Adams, the 'legendary Hollywood director, would have it made.
But she'd had to struggle for every break she got, and it wasn't just
that female directors were few and far be-twcen.  Sometimes she
wondered if C. R. "s " old friends" were giving her a hard time as
payback for his obnoxious behavior.

She had no illusions about her father.  He'd had both the talent and
the arrogance of an artistic genius-and the power to make his enemies
wish they'd had the good sense not to tangle with him.

Well, Baltimore with its burgeoning film industry was a good place for
his daughter to start Inner Harbor Productions.  So far she'd paid the
rent by shooting commercials for local companies.  Now she was putting
everything on the line with Midnight K/ss.  It could make or break her
career in feature films, which was why some of the problems that had
cropped up already were keeping her tossing and turning in her bed long
after Jay Leno had gone off the air.

The traffic thinned, and Jessica stepped on the ac-celeraWr after she
merged onto the Northwest Expressway.  As she pushed past the speed
limit, she looked at the distant clouds.  The sky had been grayish all
day, and the March wind was still biting.  Now the horizon off to the
right was darkening to deep charcoal.  Another good reason to get the
meeting started quickly.

This was so different from the way her father had worked, she mused. C.
R. Adams had had an enormous staff scurrying around taking care of
details--while he pondered camera angles and romanced starlets. Jessica
and her assistant, Reva Kane, did most of the grunt work.  And since
Jessica wasn't filming under the aegis of a big studio, she had to
contract out for everything from film crews to costumes and makeup. Her
only indulgence had been to lay out a small fortune for computerized
editing equipment so she could work on the final stages of production
in the mid die of the night if she wanted.

Of course, there was one advantage to scraping along on a minuscule
budget.  Until her collaboration with Matthew Griffon, she'd also had
the privilege of making all the decisions.  And it was still a little
strange not having final control of the script.

Twenty minutes later her attention switched back to the worsening
weather conditions as she swung into the dirt and gravel driveway that
led to the hundred-year-old Carmichael House--the Victorian mansion
Richie had proposed for many of the indoor and outdoor shoots.  After
bouncing over a couple of potholes, Jessica slowed her speed to cross
over a planked-wood bridge.  The river below was a bit swollen from the
spring rain.  Would it make a good setting for an exterior shot?  Maybe
she could use it to show that a vampire couldn't cross running water so
there was a chance for the movie's heroine to get away if she had the
moral strength.

With her mind on location scenes, Jessica almost rammed into the car
Richie had left at the side of the narrow driveway.  Reflexively she
slammed on-the brakes, her startled exclamation momentarily drowning
out the radio.  After turning off the engine, she took several calming
breaths before starting toward the house.  The wind had picked up, and
it whipped her hestuut hair around her face.  Combing it back with
long, graceful fingers, she stopped to take in the property.  R/chic
had done a good job.  This place could double for the Adam.  ~'s Family
mansion.

Her mind made quick assessments: Trim shrubbery, remove the old tree
limb blocking the view of the front entranceway, paint the veranda and
replace the loose shingles on the siding.  She climbed the steps to the
porch.  At least the wood seemed sturdy enough there.  On second.
thought maybe they could leave everything alone except the tree limb
and call it mood and atmosphere.

The front door wasn't locked, so she let herself into the mahogany
paneled entryway.

"Richie?  Richie?"  she called as she crossed to the dining room, her
eyes adjusting to the dim light.  Her words seemed to echo around the
dark, musty rooms like a distorted voice in a haunted house.  She
listened for a response but didn't hear anything except the low
groaning of the wind.  Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that someone
was lurking in the shadows watching her.

Nervously her fingers skimmed along the top of a brocade chair and
tangled in something sticky.  With a little yelp of distaste, she
pulled her hand back and peered at the clinging gray strands.  Dust and
spider-webs.

Reva would have to get a cleaning crew out here he-fore they did
anything else.  Could they charge it to the late Mr, Carmichael's
heirs--who had sworn the place was in perfect shape for a movie set?
No, that was probably pushing it.  What she needed was a firm contract
as quickly as possible, so the family wouldn't sell her set out from
under her if they found a buyer.  But she couldn't sign anything until
she was sure the property was suitable.

Jessica scuffed her foot against a worn spot on the carpet.  Damn, why
couldn't anything be easy?  Like why had her production manager
disappeared when they were supposed to be having a meeting?  Cautiously
she took a few steps into the back hall.  It was then that she saw
it--the faint yellow glow of light shining up from the basement stairs
as if someone had opened a door to the underworld.

"Richie, are you down there?"  He didn't answer, and she felt the hairs
on the back of her neck prickle.  Every instinct urged her to back
away.  Instead she tiptoed closer to investigate.  She didn't have to
go down there, she told herself.  She just had to take a quick look.

What she saw at the bottom of the steps made her heart stop for a beat
and then start up again in double time.  A body lay sprawled on the
cement floor, the still form spotlighted by a flashlight beam.

"RrrcHm?"  she quavered, focusing on his cropped blond hair, oddly
remembering when she'd teased him about the un stylishly short
haircut.

She wanted to rush to his aid, yet she stood gripping the doorframe as
she eyed the stairs.  Richie Els-worth was no klutz.  Either the
stairway was unsafe or-- The only other possibility was that someone
had pushed him.  Remembering the feeling of being watched, she glanced
nervously over her shoulder, but the hallway was as silent and empty as
it had been a few minutes ago~

Jessica's teeth clenched.  Richie's life might depend on what she did
in the next couple of minutes.  Cautiously she began to make her way
into the basement, testing each step and listening intently for either
a sound from the motionless man or a sign that she was about to meet
the same fate he had.  But the only thing she heard was the wind
outside da wing at the shin The first two risers were solid enough. 
When she reached the place where the third step should have been, she
gasped and grabbed at the rail to keep from falling.  Extending her
leg, she felt around the empty space.  Only a narrow portion of the
tread remained.

The rest had broken away.

Below her, Riehie groaned.

"It's Jessica.  Fm coming."  She tried to hurry, her gaze fixed on his
crumpled form.  He was curled on his side, like a sleeping child so
that she couldn't detect the rise and fall of his chest.

After what seemed like hours, she was finally kneeling beside him.

"Richie?  Can you hear me, Richie?"

He didn't respond in any way, but when she gently touched the side of
his neck, she was reassured by the steady beating of his pulse. Picking
up the flashlight, she played it over his face and head.  In the glow,
she could see a lump at the edge of his hairline, and she remembered
that you weren't supposed to move someone with a head injury.  She
didn't want to leave him lying there on the floor, but she knew he
needed more help than she could supply.

"Hang on.  I'm going to call an ambulance," she told him.

Before she left, she took off her jacket and draped it over his
shoulders.  Then she hurried back upstairs, scrambling over the missing
tread.

She'd forgotten about the gathering storm.  But as she flung the front
door open, a strong gust of wind ripped the knob out of her hand. Trees
thrashed around her like dancers in a violent ballet, and leaves flew
past her face as she dashed toward the car.  It was almost as dark as
night, and she had to fumble to insert the key in the lock.  Then, with
a sigh of relief, she pulled the door closed behind her, shutting out
the raging wind as she sank into the front seat.

She was reaching for the receiver of her car phone when a jagged fork
of lightning shattered the sky.  As she waited for the thunder to pass,
a rush of movement to her right caught her attention, and her head
jerked up.  Looming over her, hand raised to strike a blow at the
windowpane, was the menacing figure of a man.

As if in slow motion, his fist came down, down toward her cheek.  Time
snapped back into focus as his hand connected with the glass.  It was a
large hand.  Hard.  Strong enough to crush her bones.  For a split
second she was paralyzed by fear.

He must have been in the house.  He'd pushed Richie down the stairs.
Now he wasn't going to.  let her get away.  Frantically she dropped the
pho?  and reached to press the door lock.  But she was much too slow.
He moved with the speed of a hawk diving to capture its prey.  She
could only stare at him as the handle twisted, and the door flew
open.

The sky was as dark as pitch.  The wind howled around them.  Leaves and
pieces of debris flew through the air, some of them pummeling the
windshield and striking the fenders.  But the fury of the storm had
receded into the background.  It couldn't compete with the immediacy of
the solidly built man crouching over her, his dark eyes boring down
into hers.

Time seemed to stand still as she looked pleadingly into their
depth--trying to-read his intent.  The dark surface told her nothing,
as if life had taught him to hide his emotions.  But below that
barrier, deep, deep where most people wouldn't see, was pain and anger.
This man was capable of violence.  And great insights, too.

She had the odd sensation that urgent messages were passing between
them.  Quickly.  Silently.  The intensity was too much--maybe for him
as well, as if he knew he was giving away secrets.  His lids lowered to
shutter her view, and she was left with the rest of his face.  It was
strained, angular and lean.

He had come toward her out of the storm like a demon from a nightmare,
his collar-length hair blowing wildly around his face.  Yet this was no
dream.  As if to reinforce his power over her, his hand closed around
her upper arm, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh.  She
gasped and tried to wrench away.  "Please, don't"

"Tell me what happened so I c~n help."

She went very still, unable to believe the urgent voice and offer of
help she'd just heard could have come from someone with his harsh
face.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

There was no reason to believe him, but his tone as much as his words
stopped her frantic scramble to get away.

"Jessica, answer me.  " What happened in the house?  "

She blinked.  "You know my name."

"Of course I know" -- He stopped abruptly.  "I'm sorry.  I should--I'm
Matthew Griffon."

"Matthew Griffoh," she repeated, still trying to get a grip on reality
as she gazed up into the face she'd wondered about for so long.  She'd
gotten part of it right.  Although there was no scar on his face, he
was like the Phantom of the Opera, haunted by some dark secret.  Yet he
was no character you could describe in a few brief sentences.  It might
take years to unravel the complexity of this man.

"You came tearing out of there like the devil him- serf was after you."
He gestured toward the front door that she'd failed to close behind
her.  It was flapping back and forth in the wind.  ~

For a moment she'd forgotten why she'd come out to the car.  "I found
my production manager, Richie Elsworth, lying at the bottom of the
basement stairs.  Unconscious.  I have to call an ambulance."

He let go of her arm and reached across her body, his hand brushing her
knee as he retrieved the phone receiver where she'd dropped it.

She was still so strung out that the unexpected touch of his fingers
sent a tremor up her leg.  Hoping he hadn't felt it, she ducked her
head toward the keypad and dialed 911.  Static crackled on the line,
and she waited tensely for the connection.  Then the dispatcher
answered, and she began to explain what had happened, concentrating on
the answers to his questions.  When she'd given the directions and her
phone number, she hung up with a little sigh of relief.

"They want someone to stay by the phone in case they have trouble
locating the address," she told Griffon.  She wanted to ask h/m what he
was doing here and why he had appeared like a chimera out of the
swirling storm.  She wanted to ask herself why she'd reacted so
strongly to him.  The questions would have to wait until later.

"I'll stay.  You go back to Elsworth."

"Thanks.  I'm sorry I was so spooked.  When the paramedics get here,
tell them we're in the basement.  And tell them to be careful.  The
third step down is broken.  That's why Richie fell."

The moment she climbed out of the car, the wind tore at her again as if
it had been lying in wait like a wild animal.  Another fork of
lightning split the sky as she sprinted for the protection of the
porch.  Slam ming the front door closed behind her, she hurried ~back
toward the cellar.

When she reached the top of the steps, she gave a startled cry.  The
flashlight was where she'd left it--casting its eerie glow across the
floor.  But Richie had vanished.

Chapter Two

Jessica sucked in a ragged breath as she peered into the void.
"Richie?"

For several seconds she heard nothing.  Then a moan rose toward her
from the darkness.  It was followed by her name, gasped in a voice that
was no more than a thin whisper.

"I'm coming," she called out, fairly flying down the steps and leaping
over the broken riser.  When she reached the bottom, she picked up the
flashlight and swung it in a circle, keeping the beam low to the floor.
Richie was slumped against the wall, his legs pulled up against his
chest and his forehead pressed against his knees.

She crouched beside him, her gaze going to the lump on his head.  "I
found you a few minutes ago.  You were unconscious."  '

"Yeah."  His hand stroked across her jacket--which was now draped over
his shoulders.

"I went back out to call an ambulance."

"I don't need an ambulance."  "Your head"

"It'll mend."  He gingerly touched the knot on his temple and couldn't
conceal a wince.  In the distance Jessica heard the wail of a siren
growing steadily louder.  "You tumbled down most of a flight of stairs.
You'd better let the medics check you over."

He didn't appear to be listening.  ~ "Stupid!"  he muttered.  "That was
really stupid."  He started to shake his head and winced again.  " " I
swear, I don't know what happened.  I was here last week and the stairs
seemed fine.  "

Before Jessica could digest that bit of information, heavy footsteps
crossed the floor above them.  Then a broad beam of bright light swept
the area.

"Watch out for the third step, , Jessica called.  " Yeah.  The guy
outside told us.  "

Two white-clad paramedics came down carrying a stretcher.  Richie
grumbled as one of the newcomers examined the bump on his head.  "I'm
all right."

"Sir, your head.  should be X-rayed--unless you want to take a chance
on internal bleeding."

He sighed.  "All right."

"Do you want me to ride to the hospital with you?"  Jessica asked.

"Are you kidding?"

She laughed.  "Call me as soon as you get home."

"We can reschedule the tour of the llouse for tomorrow," Ritchie said
as one of the attendants gestured toward the slxetcher.

"It'll have to be Wednesday.  I've got the cast scheduled for their
first reading tomorrow."

"Jessica, we need to firm up this deal."

"We need to do a lot of things!  But I can only be one place at a
time."

"Okay.  Wednesday."  Ignoring the offer of assistance, Richie limped
slowly toward the steps.

Jessica grimaced in sympathy as she watched him make his painful way
up.  He must have hurt his leg as well as his head.  But it was obvious
he wasn't going to let anyone carry him if he thought he could make it
under his own power.

It took ten minutes for the group to reach the first floor.  When
Jessica stepped into the corridor, she looked around for Griffon.  Was
be still out in the car?  Or had he disappeared as mysteriously as he'd
arrived?

MA ThroW FADED ~CK into the.  shadows with the skill he'd learned over
the past few 'years.  Through the tiny crack at the edge of the kitchen
door, he watched Jessica follow the men outside.  Miraculously the
production manager was moving under his own power.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  Probably he should
go out and make polite inquiries before the ambulance departed.  But
he'd given up on politeness for its own sake a couple of years ago. You
didn't need it when you'd become an observer and recorder of
life--rather than an active participant.  Or when you made enough money
to buy the privacy you craved.

The wind grabbed at $essica's mane of hair as she stepped onto the
porch.  Her pictures hadn't done it justice.  It was alive and vibrant
like the wind.  Involuntarily he reached toward her.  Then the door
closed, cutting off all contact, and he was left with a sense of
loss--and isolation.

The second she'd come out the front door into the storm, he'd felt a
jolt of recognition, and he'd known she was in a panic.  So what had he
done?  Blundered up to the car as if he were an ax murderer on the
loose.

He gave a twisted lit He laugh.  Until a couple of months ago, his lack
of people skills hadn't mattered.  He'd been perfectly content living
in the richly imaginative worlds he'd~ created.  Making up fictional
characters who became so real to him that ~he expected to look up and
see them walk into the room.  When his agent, Harry Tyler, had first
forwarded Jessica Adams's letter asking if he'd be interested in
negotiating an option on Midnight Kiss, he'd thrown it into the trash
along with all the other requests he got from Hollywood types who
wanted to capitalize on his snc.  ~ess.

But she'd written again and sent him a tape of her best film--a love
story called Pete and Judy that had shown mostly at art houses in major
cities.  It had been sweetJ and charming and surprisingly polished. And
he hadn't been able to banigh her haunting images of two wounded people
reaching out toward each other.  So he'd hired an agency to dig up a
couple of her earlier movies--and watched them enough times to memorize
some of the dialogue.  After that, he'd started collecting information
on her--telling himself that he was simply indulging his curiosity in a
very 'm~lligent woman who was going to end up being one of the
best-known directors of her generation.

The next time she'd written, he'd kept the letter on his desk for a
couple of weeks while he came up with a long list of conditions that
would have to be met if he went ahead with a deal.  He wanted to write
the script.  He wanted the set closed to the press.  He wanted approval
of everything from the music to the opening credits.

Ms.  Adams had come back with her own set of requirements.  She'd have
a veto over his script.  They'd jointly agree on the location, the
music and the opening credits.  They'd faxed demands back and forth,
and to his amazement" they'd reached an agreement.

So here he was in Hampstead, Maryland, prepared to make sure his book
got filmed the way he'd seen it in his head so many times.  But he
wasn't going to pretend that was the only reason he had come.  Jessica
Adams's work had intrigued him.  Somewhere along the line he'd begun
wondering exactly who had made those movies.  Then he'd started
fantasizing about meeting her--of sitting down face-to-face without the
barrier of a fax machine between them.  For the first time in years
he'd let himself worry about whether they were going to get along.

Somewhere between watching Pete and Judy and negotiating the contract,
she'd turned into an obsession.  He'd be staring at his computer
screen, but instead of the graveyard scene he was supposed to be
writing, he'd see her oval face with those slightly slanted hazel eyes.
The distinctive cheekbones.  The mouth that was just a little too wide
to be fashionable.  The jawline that was definitely too aggressive for
a woman.  Not his type at all.  Too assertive.  Too much to say.  Yet
he hadn't been able to get her face out of his mind.  Or any of the
other physical details he'd learned.  She was five-ten.  Only an inch
shorter than him.  With long legs and-- He pressed his teeth into his
lower lip to stop himself from contemplating any of the other
particulars he'd picked up from watching.  Appointment in Taos, the
quirky and revealing lit He film she'd directed and starred in ~when
she was just a teenager.

None of the personal stuff mattered, since he was going to keep things
between them strictly professional.  He'd told himself a thousand times
that he didn't want anything from Jessica Adams besides her talent as a
director.  And even if he did, he was going to do her a big favor and
keep his distance, because getting close to him would be dangerous for
her health.

And speaking of her health-- He crossed to the cellar door and picked
up the flashlight that Elsworth had dropped on the floor.  Then he
hegan to play the light over the treads, stopping when he came to the
one that had given way under the production manager.

As THE AMBULANCE drove off, a few fat drops of rain splat~.  ~ the
cracked driveway, and Jessica snapped closed the front of the jacket
Richie had returned before he'd consented to climb into the ambulance.
Maybe they were going to get a downpour after all.  Caught between the
house and the car, she tried to decide what to do next.

"Griffon?"  she called into the wind,-half wondering if she'd made him
up, the way she'd made up so many other fantasies about him.

The sound of the front door opening made her jump and whirl as he
stepped onto the porch~ This time he stood quietly with his hands in
the pockets of his jeans.  But he was no less dominating than when he'd
loomed over her in the car.

"Where were you?"  was the best she could manage.

He ignored the question, regarding her with an ex press ion she would
have called wary if she hadn't known better.  From the mo menthe'd
appeared out of the gathering storm like the villain in one of his
novels, he'd had her at a disadvantage.  As she gazed into his dark
eyes, a twinge of her earlier fear came back, and her fingers closed
involuntarily around the strap of her purse.  She couldn't stop herself
from thinking about the impact of his hand as it had smacked against
the glass.  From there it was just a short mental step to the
frightening words he'd written on page after page of masterful prose.
She shivered.  This man had thrown her way off balance even before
they'd met.  Now she had to cope with him in the flesh.  Out here in
the middle of nowhere.

Michael Griffon wasn't that much taller than she was.  But his physical
presence was imposing.  He must work out, because his body was taut and
fit.  She was less able to generalize about his face.  She'd swear it
had been made for warmth and laughter.  Yet she sensed he rarely
permitted him.  qelf those eli lotions What she saw was a man who kept
himself under tight control--as if he were afraid of the consequences
if he relaxed his guard.  Was he like this with everyone?  Or just
her?

"You're cold.  Come inside."

"How did you know I was going to be at the Car-michael place this
afternoon?"

"I persuaded Ms.  Kane to tell me your schedule.  And believe me, it
wasn't easy.  That's one protective secretary you've got."

"She's a lot more than a secretary."

Reva was handling the film's publicity and a num-her of other jobs.
Like Richie, she was a lucky find for a director working on a
she)estring.  She'd been working for one of the country's top
advertising agencies when she'd decided that she was burning out from
the New York rat race.  Because she'd put away a sizable nest egg, she
could afford to take a cut in salary to work for a struggling Baltimore
film company.

"It looks like you've picked some good staffers."

"Thanks."  She lifted her chin and started toward Chiffon.  For months,
questions about him had been simmering in her mind like a cauldron of
witch's brew, and she wasn't going to let him distract her with a
discussion of her staff.  "I've been anxious to meet you.  You write
very evocatively--about terror and evil and desire," she blurted.

"I hope so."

"How do you get so much emotion onto the printed page?"

"How did you film the dream sequence in Cat's

Cradle so that the images were like soap bubbles drifting around the
room?  "

Her eyes widened in surprise.  Cat's Cradle was the film she'd written
and directed for her Master's the sis, and as far as she knew, only a
few prints had ever been made.  "You saw it?"

"Of course."

"Where did you get it?"

He snorted.  "You can get anything you want if you're willing to
pay."

"But"

"I'd be a fool to turn you loose with Midnight Kiss unless I'd looked
at more than the film you wanted me to see."

"Pete and Judy shows what I can do."

"So does Cat's Cradle and Appointment in Taos.  " Jessica flushed as
she remembered that amateurish effort.  "I made Appointment with a
bunch of high school friends the summer before I started at

UCLA.  "

"It was very revealing."

She felt her cheeks get even hotter as details from the plot came back
to her.  She'd been trying to prove how sop~hisficated she was by
including a nude love scene filmed near the D. H. Lawrence ranch.  Then
she'd insisted on acting in the damn thing as well as directing.  Had
he known it was her when he'd watched it?  And what had he thought?

He gave nothing away as he gestured with the flashlight.  "Come back
inside.  I want to show you something."

This time she was glad to change the subject.  Then, as she climbed the
steps, she couldn't help wondering if he'd set out to embarrass her on
purpose--as the most effective way to stop answering questions about
himself.

But she didn't challenge him on that as she followed him down the dimly
lit hall.  Instead her eyes swept over the worn leather jacket that
covered his broad shoulders and up to the dark hair that curled over
the edge of his collar.  He'd driven down here expecting to meet the
director who was filming his book, but he hadn't bothered to dress up
or even get a ha/r-cut.  Which meant he didn't give a damn about making
a good impression.  She watched him move eonfideatly through the
shadowy house, as if he knew the setting intimately.  How long had be
been here?  And what exactly had he been doing?

"I take it this is where your production manager met his Waterloo."
Oriffon's voice jerked her back to sanity.  He switched on the
flashlight and played the beam over the broken tread.

Jessica peered at the ruined step.

"There's another one that could have given way just as easily," he
remarked, as if he were announcing something as indisputable as a drop
in the barometric pressure.

She looked at him in surprise.  "Which?"

He moved the flashlight, spotlighting the riser two down from the
missing one.  It was also cracked off, and Jessica drew in a startled
breath as she looked around for the mi.  ~sing piece.

"When did that happen?"

"While the ambulance was leaving.  I tested the rest of the stairs."
Reaching behind the door, he pulled out a rectangle of wood that was
lopped off along one long end.

He offered it to Jessica, and she turned it over in her hands,
examining the surface and the edges.  It seemed old and dirty--but
solid.  "It's a remarkably clean break.-"

"That's right.  But there's no obvious reason why it gave way."

"Then what happened?"

He shrugged.  "Don't know.  But I'd like to hang on to it for a while,
if you don't mind."

"Maybe we should show it to the police!"  She was looking directly at
him and saw his face go a shade paler.  Or had she just imagined it in
the dim light?

"I'd rather not get the cops involved," he snapped.  "Why?"

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, and she
wondered if he'd had a run-in with the law.

"Bad publicity."

"But what if" -- She stopped and swallowed.

"If what?"

"Someone doesn't want this film made."  "What's that supposed to
mean?"

She gazed down at the piece of wood in her hands, cursing herself for
letting her nerves do the talking.  The last thing she needed was to
alarm Matthew Griffon A couple of things had happened that had made her
groan at her bad luck.  But that was no reason to start making a key
member of her team lose confidence in the project.

"I guess I'm letting my imagination run away with me" she murmured.

"I'd like you to be honest about any problems you've encountered," he
growled.

"I didn't think you wanted to hear about every production detail. We've
had some bad breaks.  The film crew I was going to use backed out of
the contract, and I had to sign up with a company I haven't used
before.  The museum claimed they never got our requests to film in
their gallery.  And somehow the copy of the script on my hard drive was
erased.  I had to reload the backup.  That's all."

He looked somewhat mollified.

She tried to take back control of the situation.  "I wasn't expecting
you to be here tonight.  But I have a progress report that I can send
over to your hotel in the morning.  If you'll tell me where you're
staying."

"I'm not a morning person."  "Well"

"You can give me some of the details now.  I'd rather hear pounds them
in your own words than read a prepared statement, anyway."

She found that while they'd been talking, he'd steered her toward the
front door.  As they stepped outside, she looked around, wondering
where he'd parked.  Only one car was in the driveway--hers, So where,
exactly, were they going?

Earlier the wind had been fierce and the sky darkened by thunderclouds.
Now it was truly twilight, and the air was as still and calm as the eye
of a hurricane.

Griffon led her around the side of the house past towering azaleas and
rhododendrons.  When he started down an overgrown track that
disappeared into a stand of pines, she hesitated as she peered into the
blackness under the needled branches.

"I'm parked right on the other side.  Next to what's left of the
carriage house."  He gestured toward his left, but she couldn't see
anything besides the trees, ~ His hand came up against her back, urging
her between the pines.  The unexpected touch of his strong fingers sent
a little tremor down her spine.  Or maybe she didn't like the way he
was directing her into the blackness.  She gave him a sidewise look,
but it was too dark to read anything in his expression.  She didn't
want to appear uncooperative--not when they were at the beginning of
what she hoped was going to be a good working relationship.  Still she
hesitated.

Suddenly he stopped, his whole body going very still.  "You're afraid
of me."

Her mind tried to form a polite denial.  Her lips didn't cooperate.
"Yes."

He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him, "Why?"

"I was afraid when you came up to the car like that.  I didn't know who
you were or what you wanted."

His eyes kept her from lowering her gaze.  "And now?"

Almost against her will, Jessica began to quote from the passage she'd
been reading before she left the house.  "" She ~ aiembered this, the
deep sensations that he roused.  The need beyond endurance shimmering
through her being.  Oh yes, she had craved this, even as she had tried
to bar him from her bedroom.  "" "That frightens you?  Those words I
wrote."

"Isn't that the effect you want to give the reader?  Or the reason
you're so popular, for that matter."

"I wasn't thinking of a reader.  Or trying for mass market appeal.  I
was trying to get inside the char ac She nodded.  " You didn't even
give her a name.  But when I read it, I. I could feel the evil pulling
at her.  She's go' rag to be destroyed by her relationship with the
vampire, but she can't turn away.  She doesn't want to turn away.  "

In the quiet twilight of the little woods, his fingers dug into her
flesh.  "Did you ever feel like that about anyone or anything?"

"I don't know."

"You'd know!"

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Nothing.  Forget it."

But she couldn't drop the subject.  She had to understand what was
behind the mesmerizing characters he'd written.  "You have his feelings
in there, too.  The vampire, I mean.  You make him ... human.  " But
you don't give him a name, either.  "

"I wanted him to stand for a universal truth."  The light had faded,
and it was difficult to see Griffon again at the dark background of the
trees.  But she saw enough.  Despite the intensity of the conversation,
the harsh lines of his face had relaxed a little, and she had the
sudden insight that he felt more comfortable in the dark.  Like a
vampire.  "Youfeel sorry for him."

"He doesn't like what he has to do.  He destroys life, but that's his
only option--if he's going to continue to exist."

"The sexual quality to their encounters is unnerv " It's not sexual.
"

"Oh?"

"There's a difference between sexuality and seductive ness he argued. "
What she has with him is a substitute for sex.  "

"What is it for him?"

"A basic need.  But not just for her blood.  He craves her desire--her
longing.  He feeds on that as well as anything physical."

"But you said"

"It's complicated.  What's happening bet~ ween them is very intense,
something beyond normal human experience But since she's human, she
doesn't have any way to describe it except in sexual terms."

Jessica felt her heart pounding.  He'd just said seduction wasn't
necessarily sexual.  Long before they'd ever met, he'd seduced her with
the rich, evocative power of his written words.  Yet his potency wasn't
simply in his use of language.  Now that he was here in the flesh, his
pull was a physical force.

What did he feel now that they were face to face, this stranger who'd
spoken so revealingly through his writing?  She wished she had the key
to decipher the codes he used.

His hand came up to brush against her cheek.  Gently he touched her
eyebrows, the bridge of her nose and then her lips.

Her breath went shallow, and her body swayed toward his.

"You're nothing like your publicity photos--or that brash teenager in
Taos."

"How am I?"

"Fresh.  Natural.  Pretty."

"I'm not pretty.  My mouth is too big.  And my chin"

His sudden laugh startled her.  "Right'.  What do I know?  I'm only a
man.,

She was glad the gathering darkness hid the red stain that sprang to
her cheeks.  God, why hadn't she ever learned to take a personal
compliment gracefully?  Probably because C. R. had been so brutal
about, her flaws.  He'd been that way with everyone, not just his wife
and daughter.  But they'd been the ones who'd endured the sarcastic
comments at the dinner table.

A jagged bolt of lightning and then a loud clap of thunder redirected
her thoughts.

Griffon looked up, but thick branches hid the sky.

"I thought the storm had passed us."

"The direction must have shifted."

"Then we'd better get out of here."  Just as he took her arm, the wind
came swooping back with a shriek that sounded like a chorus of doomed
souls.  In the space of a heartbeat, the night changed from still and
calm to wild and angry.  It lashed at them with a force that would have
knocked Jessica off her feet if she hadn't reached out and grabbed a
handful of Griffon jacket.  They swayed together until the powerful
gust passed, then he tugged on her elbow.

"Come on!"

Icy blasts whipped at her heels-and tried to tear the strap of her
pocketbook off her shoulder.

As he led her through the swaying evergreens, Griffon hunched his
shoulders and bent his head.  Jessica crouched behind him.  To keep
from getting separated, she twisted her fingers into the hem of his
jacket.  She had no idea where he was leading her.  When they rounded a
bend, she wiped her hair out of her eyes and glanced around, trying to
get a better sense of direction.  Then a cracking noise barely audible
above the howling of the wind made her freeze.  Looking up, she saw a
massive pine branch tear loose and come hurtling toward them.

Chapter Three

"Matthew!  Watch out!"  Jessica grabbed his arm, snatching him backward
and off the path.  The branch hurtled toward the ground, needles
clawing at her hair as it landed in the spot where they would have been
standing.

Griffon whirled and pushed her back into the protection of the closest
tree.  "Thanks.  That was close."

She clung to the ledge of his shoulders, breathing hard and feeling as
if he were the only solid refuge in a universe that had become
dangerously unstable.  He reached up and locked his fingers with hers,
just as the heavens opened up.

The downpour was cold and sharp, the individual droplets driving into
Jessica's flesh like icicles.  She lowered her face to his chest just
as another limb tore loose and came crashing down a dozen feet away.

Griffon wrapped his arms around her, pulling her securely again at
himself and preceding farther into the shelter of the trees.  The
fronts of their bodies were glued together like a label to a jar, and
under other circumstances she would have pulled away.  Instead she
clung to him gratefully.  As the icy rain pelted onto her head and
shoulders, and the wind tore at her cloth lag.

She hadn't thought the torrent could get any heavier-until it began to
hit her in drenching sheets that had her gasping for breath.  For all
she knew it had changed from rain to sleet, but her skin was too numb
to tell.

MATTHEW STOOD in the fury of the storm, trying to shelter Jessica and
cursing under his breath.  He'd put her in danger because he hadn't
been willing to let her leave.  Now he had to get her out of the
storm.

"Come on," he shouted, wondering if she could hear him above the wind
and rain.

Matthew felt her nod against his chest and hugged her tightly for
several more seconds, his fingers stroking over her sodden hair and
across her icy cheek.  He had the momentary illusion that simply
touching her this way could warm them both--save them both.

Her teeth wer~ chattering, her frame lxembling.  Gently he reached down
and found her hand.  When she knit her fingers with his, he felt
something inside his chest expand.  A little while ago she'd been
afraid of him.  Now she was giving him her total trust--and he was
responding in a way he hadn't expected.

Turning, he began to lead her down the path, moving quickly but more
cautiously than before.  He-heard another ripping sound louder than the
wind, and they both stopped short.  Somewhere to their left, heavy
branches crashed and plummeted to the earth, but he couldn't see what
was happening through the sheets of rain.  All he could do was shield
her with his body and hope to hell he was still going in the right
direction.

"Damned if we do and damned if we don't," he muttered as he started
forward again.  Jessica hung on tightly to his hand and stumbled
blindly behind him.

Finally after what seemed like hours, a bulky shape loomed in front of
him.  The camper.  Thank God.

There were several seconds when he was afraid he'd lost his keys
somewhere in the woods.  Then' his fingers closed around cold metal.
Yanking the door open, he all but shoved her inside and followed on her
heels.

As the door closed, she melted against him.  He marveled at the
sensation of holding her in his arms--and the sudden wonderful absence
of freezing water beating down on his head and shoulders.  Now the rain
only drummed against the roof.  ~

It was pitch-black inside.  When he moved to reach for the light, she
held him tighter, her body still trembling violently and her teeth
chattering.

"It's all right.  We're safe in here," he murmured.  "Where..: where
are we?"

"My camper."  HIS hands moved up and down the sodden fabric sticking to
her back as he pressed her closer, trying to warm her.  Or was that
only an excuse?  Was he enjoying the contact too much?  Sternly he
tried to make his mind focus on what needed to be done.  "Got to get
this stuff off of you--before you catch your death of cold."

-y.  yes.  "

She tried to help as he tugged at her sleeves, freeing her arms from
the dripping jacket.  But her hands were trembling so much, he ended up
doing most of the work.

She was from California, he found himself thinking.  She couldn't take
the cold like a guy from the Maine woods.

The jacket landed in a puddle at his feet.  But he could tell she was
no dryer or warmer than before.  His hands stroked over her back and
shoulders, feeling the way her T-shirt clung to her like a freezing
second skin.  Without thinking, he reached for the hem of the shirt and
started to pull it up.

When his fingers brushed the bare skin over her ribs, she drew in a
sharp breath.  "Don't."

He stopped and jerked his hands away from her flesh.  "Sorry.  I"

She swallowed.  "It's okay."

He stood for a moment with his eyes closed, thankful for the darkness.
Moments ago, taking off her clothes had seemed ~ the most natural thing
in the world--as if they were old friends.  Or as if they'd been lovers
for years.  But they couldn't be friends.  And certainly not lovers.
What the hell had he been thinking about?

"You need a hot shower--and some dry clothes or you're going to catch
pneumonia," he rasped as he pulled away from her.

HE LEFt H~ SO abruptly that Jessica reached out to steady herself
against the door.  A switch clicked, then a weak light came on in the
corner of the room.  She could see Matthew's face only dimly, and she
suspected he wanted it that way.  She gave up trying to make out his
expression and focused on his body.  He looked as if ~he'd narrowly
escaped a drowning.  His dark hair was plastered to his head, and his
sodden clothes clung to his muscular frame.  She imagined she gave the
same charming impression.

"The bathroom's this way."  He led her down a short hall.  "Put your
clothes on the floor in the hall and I'll stick them in the dryer.
There should be enough hot water for a shower .... "

"What--uh--am I going to wear?"

He looked momentarily perplexed before turning and disappearing into
the bedroom.  Several moments later he reappeared carrying a navy
sweatsuit.  "This should fit."

"What about you?  Y-you're as cold as I am."

"I'm pretty indestructible.  All I need to do is dry off?"  After
grabbing a towel, he left her alone.

As she took in the room, she blinked in surprise.  She'd been in a few
mobile homes, and the facilities were usually quite cramped.  This
bathroom could have been in a fairly luxurious house.  It had a
skylight--against which rain drummed--and a full-size tub instead of
just a shower stall.

With almost numb fingers Jessica tugged at the metal button of her fly.
It took several minutes to pull off her soaked clothes.  Griffon had
offered to dry them but she hesitated handing over her underwear to a
man.  she barely knew.  Then she shrugged.  Better to just act
matter-of-fact about the whole awkward situation.

The hot shower was like a magic balm, bringing her back to life,
washing away some of the numbing layers from her mind.  As the water
sluiced over her body, she glanced at the door.  Griffon was out there.
Griffon who seemed to change so completely from one moment to the next
that she couldn't keep up with him.  In fact, she was so off balance
she could barely stand.

She shook her head and reached for his spicy-smelling shampoo.  She was
overanalyzing when the best thing she could do was get to know him
better.  And the storm had given her the perfect opportunity.

Too bad Griffon didn't have a blow dryer, she thought as she spent
several minutes working on her hair with a towel, It was still damp as
she pulled on the sweats.  The pants fit--since her hips were broader
than her host's.  The shirt made her look like one of the girls in
Little Orphan Annie.

Wiping the steam from the mirror, she peered at her reflection.  Every
bit of her makeup was gone, and her hair was going to dry with as much
style as a tangled pot of spaghetti.  She felt her chest
tighten--suddenly remembering the afternoon she'd forgotten C. R. was
bringing home a photographer to shoot one of those charming "famous
director relaxes with his family" spreads.  She'd been playing in the
spray from the underground watering system, her clothes sopping and her
hair hanging lira ply around her shoulder.  C. R. "s quick angry look
had frozen the blood in her veins.  But he'd pretended his daughter's
dishabille was an amusing annoyance--until the visitor had left.

Jessica forced away the long-ago scene.  She might literally look wet
behind the ears, but she was going to be one of the best woman film
d/rectors in the country.  No, one of the best directors.  Period.  And
her job tonight was to convey quiet authority.  Squaring her shoulders,
she opened the bathroom door and strode down the hall.

Griffon was sitting at a long desk with a laptop computer and several
other pieces of equipment--including a fax machine.  He'd partially
dried his hair and changed into fresh jeans and a black T-shirt that
made him look more like a street gang member than a famous author.

His attention was totally focused on several sheets of paper he was
reading, and it was apparent that he didn't hear her approaching. There
was a red stripe down one side of the top sheet--which was the only
thing Jessica could see for sure from this distance.  She stood very
still, regarding his chiseled profile.  Her image must have flickered
at the edge of his vision.  He looked up,.  momentarily startled, as if
he'd forgotten he wasn't alone in the trailer.  Without glancing at
her, he hurri~ny shoved the papers into one of the desk drawers, locked
it and pocketed the key.

Tensely she waited for some explanation.  After giving her a long,
appraising look that made her wish her underwear weren't in the dryer,
he got up, carefully pushed in his chair and crossed to a compact
kitchen area along the wall opposite the desk.  Turning his back to
her, he began to rummage in one of the cupboards.

Jessica pressed her lips together and somehow kept from demanding to
know what he hadn't wanted her to see.  Maybe he'd been reading the
latest chapter of his novel while he waited for her to get dressed.
Certainly that was none of her business.  She stood listening to the
rain pounding on the roof, wishing he'd say something.  Even polite
social chatter would make her feel less like a spy.  But she had found
out pretty quickly that Griffon wasn't the type for small talk.

Maybe he'd been alone for too long.  Or maybe.  he stopped eating what
anyone thought about him.

"How does hot chocolate sound?"  he asked, star-fling her with both his
casual 'tone of voice and with the question.

"Good."  Jessica watched him fill a small kettle.  When he didn't
contribute anything else to the conversation, she stopped staring at
his back and swung around to survey the study.  Maybe she could pick up
some revealing details that would tell her more than his damp hair.

In addition to the desk, the room was furnished with a tan leather
sofa, an easy chair and a thick beige carpet with a wet spot right in
front of the door where they'd first been standing.  Bookshelves lined
the walls.  Wondering how he kept the library in place while he was on
the road, she walked over and saw that a narrow plastic rail ran along
the front of each shelf.  Each piece of equipment on-the desk was also
secured by plastic restraints.

While Griffon rooted around in the small refrigerator under the
counter, she surveyed the book titles.  A representative selection of
American and British literature, as well as many of the more respected
modern genre writers.  Several worn leather-bound volumes turned out to
be classic vampire stories--including Bram Stoker's Dracula.  Her gaze
dropped from the books to the desk drawer.  She'd never been a snoop,
but no one had ever practically waved a sheaf of papers in her face and
then locked them away.  Unable to help herself, she looked quickly over
her shoulder.  Then, bending her knees, she grasped the edge of the
drawer and pulled, but it was locked, all right.

She had just straightened when she heard footsteps behind her.  Had he
seen?

He didn't comment as he set a plate down on the desk, and Jessica
glanced-at him from under lowered lashes.  Outside when the wind and
rain had lashed at them, he'd wrapped his arms around her and pulled
her securely against his body.  The age-old gesture of a man protecting
a woman.  When they'd first come through the door, she'd been trembling
in his arms.  The classic response of a woman leaning on a man's
superior strength.  But it was dangerous to take anything for granted
with this man.

The intimacy had been replaced by an awkwardness that left her edgy,
and she focused on the platter he'd brought.  It held a thick wedge of
what looked like Vermont Cheddar, a variety of crackers, apple wedges
and a crock of salmon-and-cream cheese spread--all of which reminded
Jessica that she had missed dinner.

While she cut herself a piece of Cheddar, he returned with two steaming
mugs.  She lifted one to her nose and inhaled appreciatively.
"Sometimes, my mother used to fix hot chocolate in the evenings."

"

" For your family?  "

"No.  Just for me and herself.  My dad said the phe 'nol bromine made
him jumpy."

"Was he a health food nut?"

Few of the people Jessica knew would have dared referred to C. R. as a
nut--even if that had been their privat~ opinion.  But Griffon wasn't
like anyone else she'd ever met.  "Well, he liked a good steak as much
as the next guy, but there were a lot of things he thought were bad for
him."  Jessica laughed, "Maybe that's why I eat everything."

The conversation dwindled, and for several minutes they concentrated on
the food and drink.  Perhaps Griffon was perfectly comfortable with the
silence, but Jessica could feel it filling the little room and then
closing in on her.  "This is a pretty plush camper."  She tossed the
comment into the stillness.  "You've got a lot of appliances and office
equipment."

"I don't run them all at once."

"Where does the electricity; come from?"

"A generator.  Butmy storage batteries will keep the place going for a
couple of days--if I'm conservative."

'~)o you go on long trips?  "

"I live here.  So I can go where I want, when I want ."  '

"But the book jackets say--I thought you had an estate in Maine."

He wrapped his hands around his mug.  "It's not an estate, it's an
undeveloped tract.  That's why my loyal fans can't find the place when
they come looking me.  My grandfather left me the land--and a falling
down cabin on a bluff overlooking the ocean.  I moved there after" --
He stopped abruptly and looked away: from her.  Several seconds later,
he picked up at a point that probably skipped a number of years.  "I
had this vehicle custom designed when I started getting royal ties from
my first book."

"Didn't you want to fix up the cabin?"  '

"A nor'wester blew it off the cliff one night.  Luckily I'd moved in
here."

The silence stretched again.  This time her host seemed as
uncomfortable as she.

"I live about six months of the year in Maine.  The rest of the time, I
travel.  All I need for my work is my computer and my printer."

"So that's how you' got such an accurate description of Santa Fe into
your last book.  You stayed there," Jessica guessed.

"Well, outside of town at a campground with dee-trical and water
hookups."

"What do you do to keep your fans from finding you--travel under an
assumed name?"

"My real name."

"It's not-Matthew Oriffon?"

"Matthew.  Yeah.  That was my middle name.  I

picked Griffon when I star tod writing.  "

"Oh."

He turned back to the food, dipped a cracker into the salmon spread and
began to chew.

End of subject, Jessica thought, determined not to waste her breath
doing any more ping.  "Thanks for the hospitality, but I'd better be
going."

"You can't."

"Oh?"  This time she made it a question.

HE WATCHED the nervous motion of her eyes, and the tight line of her
mouth.  Yes, she hadn't stopped being afraid of him.  He let the
silence stretch, think dug that it would be better for her if be
encouraged that fear.  And for him, too.  For a crazy moment, he'd let
himself get too involved.  But this was a business relationship as with
his agent, Harry Tyler.  The only time he and Tyler had met had been at
an isolated lakeside cabin in Vermont.  After dark.  With a few candles
the only illumination so that Harry couldn't get a good look at his
newest best selling author.

He'd told himself he was amused at the man's re-action--and his
reluctance to ask personal questions.  To be truthful, it had been more
like relief.  Back then he'd been afraid that any questions about the
author of Midnight Kiss would nip his fledgling career in the bud.

Seven years later, Matthew Griffon was too important a literary
phenomenon for the dark secrets of his past to turn off his fans.  In
fact, in today's perverse world, his~ life story would probably
guarantee a longer run on the bestseller list.

"Are you going to hold me captive here or something?"  Jessica
'demanded.

He shook his head and gestured toward the rain drumming on the
skylight.  "It's just as bad out there as it was When we came in. 
You'd get soaked to the skin in a minute.  And I'm not even sure how to
get back to your car," he heard 'himself explaining.  Really, he should
let her go.  What was she to him, anyway?  Then he couldn't stop from
remembering the way she'd clung to him as the elements had lashed them
and the protective feelings~ that had welled inside him.  They were
almost as overwhelming as the way her body had felt against his when
he'd first pulled her in here.  Vulnerable.  Achingly feminine.  The
skin of her torso had been so wonderful against his fingers.  Silky
smooth.  Fine-textured.  Soft.  The tactile memory was embedded in his
brain.  He'd started to undress her, for God's sake!  He Still wasn't
sure what he'd been planning next.  Probably drag her to bed.

"What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Spend the night."  God, the lines of dialogue were coming from one of
his books.

"I can't"

"You take the bedroom, I'll take the couch.  I'm not going to make a
pass at you."  He turned away quickly before she could see how much it
cost him to say that.

THE B~D SMm.  T. ~ like Matthew Griffon.  Not just the spicy
after-shave and shampoo he used.  But the distinctive scent of his
body--the scent she remembered from when he'd held her in his
arms--permeated the bedclothes.  Jessica rolled to her side and pulled
up her knees, wondering how long it would take her to get to sleep. She
should have let him change the sheets when he'd offered.  But she'd
wanted t get away from him as quickly as she could.

She'd felt the sexual tension crackling between them .  ashe showed her
the bedroom.  But that wasn't the only thing that made her jumpy.  She
wanted to ask what he was hiding.  Not just the papers in the drawer.
What he was hiding in his soul.  But the question had been impossible
after the awkward silences that had broken their conversation.

Her gaze flicked to the closed door.  She'd debated locking it.  Then
she'd decided that was a useless gesture.  If he wanted to come in
here, a lock wouldn't stop him.

She rolled onto her back, gazing up at the ceiling.  There was no
skylight in the bedroom.  A vampire wouldn't want one there.  Not when
the sun came up in the morning~

The image on the book cover--the red mouth with the hint of
fangs--flashed into her mind.  Was that what he was hiding?  That he
was the damaged suffering creature he'd written about in Midnight
Kiss?

She gave a nervous little laugh in the darkness.  What a ridiculous
tack her imagination was taking.  He might write about humankind's
age-old fears, but Matthew Griffon was as normal as she.  Well, not
precisely normal.  But human.  It was madness to think anything else.

JESSICA WOKE in the first gray light of dawn, momentarily disoriented
before she remembered why she was sleeping in a strange bed in borrowed
sweat suit.

The sound of the rain was gone.  BUt something else had roused her from
sleep.  "Something that played along her nerve endings like tiny
pinpricks.

The dregs of a bad dream?

Lying motionless, she strained her ears.  A barely audible flutter like
wings at the window made her whole body go rigid.  She knew that sound!
At least in her imagination.

Her head jerked toward the noise as she tried to penetrate beyond the
haft-closed.  curtains But she could discern only an indistinct ripple
of movement.

Then another rhythm crept into her consciousness--growing slowly louder
and louder until she could make out the sound of waves crashing against
a rocky shore.  It was somehow familiar and it.  made a dreamy,
peaceful feeling steal over her.

"Jessica.  Jessica."  The voice was like a soft buzzing below the
cadence of the waves.  My God, who was out there calling her?  What did
they want?  "Jessica, come to me."

"No."  Mind-numbing fear engulfed her, and her hands curled in the
sheets, as if she needed' to anchor herself to the bed--to reality.

Words she'd read many times trailed lazily through her head only this
time they were spoken aloud.  "Let me in, my sweet.  Don't lie to me.
Or to yourself.  You know you want to feel my kiss."

"No," she protested again, a fine sheen of perspiration blooming on her
skin.  She was caught in a nightmare--unsure whether she was awake or
asleep.  "Come to me!"

"C,o away."  She burrowed under the covers, pulling ~ over her head
like a child hiding from monsters in the dark.  But the blankets and
sheets couldn't protect her.

The waves pounded in her head, making her brain muzzy.  And the voice
kept up its silky insistence.  As if her hand belonged to someone else,
she 'tossed aside the blanket, stood on shaky legs and took a tentative
step toward the window.  Then another.  ~.

Chapter Four

"That's right, Jessica.  Come to me."

On feet that felt like blocks of wood, she crossed the carpet.

Through half-closed eyes, she saw black wings fluttering on the far
side of the pane, begging admittance Small red eyes bored into hers.

"Let me in."

With tingling fingers, Jessica reached for the latch.

The voice took on a harsher, grating quality.  "Yes.  Open up to me.
Embrace your destruction.,"

Her hand froze.  Her eyes snapped fully open.  For a terrible moment,
she stared into the beady red eyes, the evil little face, the sharp
white fangs on either side of the mouth.

"No!"  From somewhere in the depths of her soul, she found the will to
fight.  Her arm drew back, and her fist crashed down against the
windowpane.

As the creature flapped furiously against the glass, a scream tore from
Jessica's throat.  All she knew was that she had to get out of there
before it broke through and got her.  Flying across the room, she
yanked the door open.  Then she was lea ring down the hall.

"Matthew!  Matthew!"

The front door of the mobile home opened, and she stopped short.

Griffon filled the doorway.  Hi~ hair was tangled.  His shirt was off.
Her gaze fixed on the long scar that slashed diagonally across his
chest, making a track through the thick, dark hair.

"Jessica?  What's wrong?"

Her eyes lifted to his face.  "You..  2 you were outside?"

"I was checking the propane tank.  What hap He crossed the room toward
her, and she felt panic rise in her throat as she backed away.

Griffon~reached her in a few quick strides," his hands cupping her
shoulders.  For several seconds she stood stiffly.  Then she let
herself sink against him, 11~ cheek settling on his shoulder.  His arms
came up to cradle her protectively.

"What's wrong?"

She dragged in a deep, shuddering breath.  "Something was at the
bedroom window.  Just now.  It woke me up."

"What?"  ~ "The vampire."

MA~ STOOleD his finEers through the incredible softness of her hair, so
aware of her physically that he hardly knew what he was saying.  "There
are no vampires," he murmured.  ,"I think my books have given you
nightmares."

Her body trembled in his arms is if she were a bird in a snare
quivering with fear.  But her voice was strong and sure.  "No.  I
wasn't asleep!  I opened my eyes, and I... saw... the bat fluttering at
the window.  Just like in Midnight K/ss.  Its wings were beating
against the glass--the way you said.  And ... and it was calling me.
Asking me to let it in.  Like the vampire calling the woman in the
book.  The same words, even."

He shook his head vehemently.  "No!"

"I know what I heard--and saw.  He said he wanted to destroy me," she
whispered.

"That sure as~ hell isn't in the book.  He never wanted to destroy
anythingV'

She lifted her head.  Then her body went rigid, and he knew she was
staring Over his shoulder toward the open door.  "You were outside,"
she repeated, only now he knew why that had upset her.  "Matthew, you
wouldn't, I mean..."  The question trailed off, as if she were afraid
to hear his answer.

"No, I wouldn't play that kind of dirty trick on you!  Jessica, I wish
you weren't afraid of me."

He hadn't meant to say' anything of the sort.  Last night he'd tried to
convince himself that her fear was the safest emotion between them. But
somehow what he'd been wishing as he'd laid restless and awake on the
couch had slipped out.

She stepped away from him, her hazel eyes searching his dark ones.  He
wanted to look at something else, anything else, but she held him fast
with her solemn gaze.

He said her name again, staring at her, sensing himself falling into
those twin orbs.  They drew him toward her, and he couldn't summon the
strength to resist his own desh'es or the need to make her under stand
what he was feeling.  Amazed, he found his lips lowering to hers.

The first touch was only a light brush, maybe because he'd known all
along that it was the wrong thing to do.  Or maybe deep in his soul, he
was afraid she was going to pull away.  But she didn't.

He caught the barest murmur from her throat and felt himself drowning
in that tiny sound.

He angled his head so that his mouth could fit itself more intimately
to hers.  Her lips parted, warm and welcoming.  It had been so long
since he'd allowed himself this basic form of human contact that a deep
shudder went through him.  He knew she felt it, knew by the way her
hands stroked over ~ naked back and across his shoulders, as if she
were reassuring him that this was right.

The touch of her fingers against the hair on his arms sent amore erotic
tremor through him, and he deepened the kiss as a thousand urgent
sensations enveloped him.  The intoxicating taste of her mouth.  The
provocative pressure of her breasts against his naked chest.  The silky
skin of her cheek against his.  The little murmurs of approval she made
deep in her throat.

His fingers sifted greed' fly through her hair the way he'd wanted to
much her ever since she'd come out of the bathroom with that beautiful
auburn cloud around her face.  His other hand drifted down, so that he
could trace the curve of her waist and press her hips more tightly to
his.  She was only a little shorter than he, with long legs, so that
their bodies aligned perfectly--sensually.

Blood pounded through his veins.  He should pull away.  End this
dangerous liaison before it was too late.

But he couldn't.  Not yet.  Not when his own pleasure and need were so
intense.  Not when he felt her responding to him as if she'd spent the
night the same way he had--wide-awake, longing for this.

Just another few seconds.  Another few minutes.  Another half hour.
This was why he'd come down here from his lonely lair--to hold her and
kiss her.  With unsteady hands he pushed up the h~n of her shirt and
splayed his hands against the warm skin of her back.  No, he hadn't
imagined how soft and silky and feminine she felt.  The certain
knowledge ~hat he was about to drag her down the hall to the bedroom
instead of out the door made him lift his mouth from hers.  Her eyes
snapped open.  "Matthew?"

"You don't want to get mixed up with me."  He forced out the words.

She looked as dazed as he felt.  And confused.  "Why?"

"I'm a bad risk."

Her eyes begged him to explain.  He shook his head and turned away.  He
waited for her to press him with more questions.  People always had
questions.  That was one of the reasons he'd retreated to Grandpa's
cabin after the police had satisfied themselves that he wasn't lying
about the accident.

But she remained silent, her gaze turning inward, and he realized yet
again how different she was from other.  women--other people.  He
dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "I was about to take
you outside so we could look around."

"All right."

All right.  Just like that.

She looked down at her bare feet.  "I think I'd better put on some
shoes."

"Right.  Mayhe I can even pull on a shirt.,

He wished at once that he'd said something else, because her eyes were
drawn once more to his chest, and she reached to much the scar that
he'dcarried for the past eight years.

"You were hurt," she murmured.  "An automobile accident."

"It must have been abad one."

"Pretty bad," he answered tightly before turning toward the dryer. "I'd
better get your socks."

Afler fetching her clothes, he stepped into the bedroom and crossed to
the bureau and closet combination he'd copied from the specs for a
ship's stale room When he'd pulled on a long-sleeved knit shirt, he
turned and looked at the bed, picturing Jessica sleeping there.

It wasn't much different from the images that had deviled him last
night.  Except that now he'd tasted the sweetness of' her lips.  He
stroked his hand across the indentation in the pillow where she'd lain
her head, imagining he could still feel her warmth.  Then he turned on
his heels and headed back down the hall.

Jessica had retrieved her running shoes from the bathroom.  He watched
gravely as she sat on the sofa pulling on the socks, fiddling with the
shoelaces, taking longer than was strictly necessary.

When she looked up and saw him regarding her, she flushed.  "I guess
you can tell I'm putting off the moment when'I have to step outside."

Actually he'd assumed she was dealing with the fallout from the kiss,
but he didn't enlighten, her-by disagreeing.  "Urn."

"I'm going to feel kind of silly if we look around and don't find a
thing."

"This isn't a case where a negative proof mean~ anything~ We won't he
any wiser than we are now unless we find something."

MATrHEW REACHED for her hand as they crossed to the door, and Jessica
found herself holding him tightly because she wasn't sure what else to
do.  She'd told him only part of what she was feeling.  And that was
before the complications of the kiss.

She slid him a covert glance.  It was safer to think about the-two of
them than the vampire.  But their relationship wasn't exactly easy to
figure out, and a few minutes ago it had taken an unexpected turn.

Something had happened between them.  Something more than just a man
and a woman who had met the day before and were attracted to each
other.

Matthew Griffon was a man who'd locked himself away from the world.
Before they'd ever met, he'd trusted her enough to let her do what he'd
denied to scores of other movie directors--film his book.  "She'd been
too gleeful about the coup to question his decision.  Since their talk
last night,

he'd been as preoccupied with her as she'd been with him.  Or was she
kidding herself Jessica gave him another look from under lowered
lashes, wishing she were more experienced with men.  But she'd been so
in her career for the past few latiouships had been way down on her
list of priorities.

She sucked in a breath and let it trickle out of her lungs.  Who was
she kidding?  It didn't matter how many guys she'd dated over the past
few years.  None of her previous experience would have prepared her for
someone as brooding and intense as Matthew Griffon.  Someone who made
you feel as ifhe knew everything going on inside your head while hiding
his own thoughts as effectively as a cat hides in the tall grass.  Then
there was the kiss.  He'd initiated it.  Then he'd been the one to
stop.  So was she supposed to be relieved or miffed?

They hovered in the doorway of the camper, and she looked down at the
damp ground outside searching for another focus for her thoughts.  She
could see his footprints leading around toward the right and then
coming back, the second' set scuffing over the first.  She even thought
she could tell where he'd been standing when he'd heard her scream. The
dirt was kicked up where he started to run.

"The bedroom window is at the back," he said.  "Why is the camper so.
high off the ground?"

He startled her by grinning.  "It's a special de-sign--modified so I
can carry a small sports car underneath."

"That's impossible."

"Money can buy anything"

"--except happiness," she finished the aphorism.  "How do you know?"

"C.R. would have done it if it were possible."

They crossed a plot of mud and grass that hadn't been disturbed since
the night before.  As they approached the back of the vehicle, Jessica
felt her tension mount.  Disappo'mtment surged when she detected
nothing ~at resembled footprints.

"Do yOU see ally thing she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He drew her closer to the window and pointed to ward a series of
indentations on the wet ground.  They looked like animal tracks.

From a large dog?  A deer?  Had the bat wings she thought sBe'd seen
been antlers?

Now that she knew what to look for, she could follow the path.  One set
of tracks led directly out of the woods.  ~ other went back in again.

Silently she approached the ground directly under the windoW, staying
far enough back so as not to disturb the pattern.

"Not a dog," she said.  As she stared at the prints, a long-agO image
tagged at her memory.  But she couldn't quite bring it into focus.

"Not l~Nothing I can identify," Matthew added.  "And I'v~ seen plenty
of animal prints around the trailer--i~ Maine and at various
campgrounds.  Everything from chipmunks to bears and moose."

Jessica bent-toward the' indentations Each had a pad at the back and
was divided at the front.  Likelike-- She grinned in triumph.  "Like
Bertha's."  "Bertha?"

"A goat.  She belonged to Ramona.  One of our housekeel~rS, who thought
that goats' milk was bet tot for you than cows'."

"You kept farm animals on Mulholland Drive?"

"How do you know where we lived?"

He looked momentarily star fled "One of those photo essays on the great
C. R. Adams.  Your house 'didn't exactly look like Old McDonald's
Farm."

"It wasn't.  We had one goat.  And it was a big estate.  The gardener
built a pen for it in back of the garage.  I used to bring her thistles
and other stuff we picked in the hills and watch her eat them.  Then
Ramona got into a fight with C.R. and left.  That was about par for the
course with our domestic staff."

"Goat tracks," I Matthew repeated.  "Except that there's one thing
wrong with your theory.  A goat doesn't walk on two legs.  Unless it's
part of a circus act ."  '

"What?"

"Take a close took at these sets.  They don't Come in fours the way an
animal would walk--they come in

She switched her attention from the individual prints to the pattern
that stretched toward the woods and realizxxl he was right.  Right
foot.  Left foot.  Right.  Left.  Right.  Left.  The pairs were about a
foot apart.  She kept pace with several sets and found the stride was
about the same length as her own long-legged one.

"What mythical creature has cloven hoofs and walks on two legs?"
Matthew suddenly demanded.

Jessica's head snapped up.  "Pan.  The ~eek God of the Forests.  Or
the... the devil."

"Yeah.  Well, I think whoever was out here this morning playing vampire
had his metaphors a bit mixed up."  Matthew walked carefully around the
cluster of tracks under the window, staring down at them and being
careful not to trample any.

Jessica joined him.  Hating herself for the need to verify an important
fact, she walked to the far edge of the camper and looked at ~the
ground.  It was swept clean by the rain.  Nobody had--She stopped and
corrected herself~ Griffon hadn't come around from that direction when
he'.  d said he was checking the propane.

Letting out the little breath she'd been holding, she turned and found
him watching her.  The look in his eyes told her he knew exactly what
she'd been doing, and she felt her face heat.

Quickly she stooped and looked below the back bumper.  "I see the
wheels of your sports car."

"I wasn't lying."

She nodded and switched her attention to the ground: The area
underneath the vehicle was just as muddy as what they'd crossed.  In
fact, it looked as if runoff from the storm had come coursing between
the tires in a steady stream, carrying away surface silt.

But there was one thing under the bumper that didn't look wet--a black
silk scarf about three feet long.  With a little shiver, Jessica ran
its length he-tween her fingers, trying to imagine who had been holding
it.  Surely not a bat.

"What have you got?"  Matthew asked.

She handed him the silky length and watched him brush off a bit of
mud.

"If this thing had been on the ground all night, it would he as wet as
piece of seaweed.  So I'd say you had an early-morning visitor, all
right.  Someone who can't decide whether they want to play Dracula or
Beelzebub.  " Damn!  If I'd gone back out when.  you,.

first told me about the vampire, we could have caught him.  "

"It's not your fault."

"Wait here.  I'm going to see if he's still around."

"I'm going with you."  "Don't you trust me?"  "It's not that."

"Then stay here.  It's safer, and your shoes will love you for steering
clear of the mud."

Before she could answer, he turned and hurried toward the woods.

JESSICA STOOD with her shoulders pressed against the corrugated
aluminum of the camper's side watching Matthew walk toward her.  She
could see from the way the corners of his mouth turned down that he
hadn't found anything useful.

"Too many pine needles under the trees," he reported.  "Mayhe Daniel
Day-Lewis could sniff out the trail, but I can't."

Jessica nodded.  She hadn't expected another find.  like the silk
scarf.  But at least she knew she wasn't going crazy.  Someone had been
at the window2 Someone who wanted to literally cover their tracks.

"Are any of your friends into practical jokes?"  Matthew asked as he
stopped beside the front door to take off shoes caked with mud.

"Not that I know of."

"Then we've got to assume the morning performance was meant to frighten
you."

"Not you?"

"He'd be wasting his time.  There's nothing left that makes my hair
stand on end."

"Oh?"

Griffon ignored her question.  "Who knows you were meeting Richie out
here yesterday?  And that you didn't come home last night?"

Jessica frowned as she followed him into the mobile home.  She didn't
want to believe anyone she knew would have done it.  Yet she ~ she
ought to give serious consideration to the questions.  "Well, Richie
him.~if, of course.  Although I can't imagine he was in.  any lind of
shape to come back here.  You said you got my schedule from Reva.  But
it was general knowledge that I had an appointment to look at the
house.  If anyone tried to call me last night, they'd know I didn't
come home."

"Or you weren't answering the phone."

"I always answer important messages."

Griffon stood in the middle of the study staring at the locked desk
drawer.

"What's in there?"  Jessica blurted.

"Papers I wouldn't want stolen."  His words were clipped.  He turned
away and glanced across toward the kitchen.  "We don't need to think
about your morning visitor on an empty-stomach.  But I'm afraid I can't
offer much variety for breakfast.  Do you eat' frozen waffles?"

Another quick change of subject, Jessica thought with a mental shrug.

"Waffles are fine.  And coffee would he good."

"Well, you've stumbled on my one Culinary obsession.  I'm an expe~ on
coffee' he said a bit too heartily as he pulled a coffeemaker from
under the count eL In the freezer were several bags of beans.  " What,
s your pleasure?  "

Jessica selected Swiss chocolate mocha and watched him put them into a
small grinder.

"You weren't kidding about being an expert.  I usually grab a cup.  of
instant."

He grimaced.

"I'm pretty sure it goes just fine with frozen waffles,"

"All depends on your priorities."

The conversation stopped abruptly the way it often did with Griffon.
Jessica watched him work, wondering if he'd ever had company to
breakfast.  Or any visitors, for that matter.  Since there was no table
in the kitchen, he must eat all his meals at the desk.

After setting down a tray of food between the computer and the copier,
he settled his hips against the edge of the desk and stirred milk and
sugar into his coffee.  "who's got-a vested interest in your not making
Midnight Ki~s ?"

"what?"

"who are your professional enemies?  Who wants to screw up your
career?"

"Nobody," she said too quickly.

His eyes were intent on her face, and she felt her features stiffen.

~"You're lying."

"I was thin ling about all the people who hate C. R. Adams," she shot
back.

"Who?"

"Directors he cut out of films they wanted to make.  Actors he wouldn't
use."

"Ex-wives," Griffon added.

"No.  He stayed mar fled to my mother " Her voice trailed off.

"But?"

"There were always other women," Jessica said in a low voice.  "That's
why" -- She stopped abruptly.  "Why you don't trust men," he finished
for her.  "That's not

"Why aren't you part of a couple?"

"Why aren't you?"  She threw the challenge back in his face.

"We're getting off the subject."

"Are we?  Well I 'haven't made a big enough splash to collect enemies,
but you have.  Maybe somebody hates you and doesn't want to see your
book ~red," she countered.  "Who are your enemies?  Who wants to screw
up your career?"

"My carcer's already established.  And I've just signed a new contract
that will keep me in exotic coffee for the next fifty years.  Turning
Midnight Kiss into a feature film won't make much difference one way
or.  the other."

"You're wrong.  If the movie's a success, it will bring you millions of
new readers--people who like the movie and want more.,"

He shrugged.  "Maybe so.  But it's not going change my life much."

"Well, a lot of people are going to see it as another measure of your
success, and some of them will be angry that they're not sharing your
good fortune, Your agent told me you'd turned down a dozen offers to
film your books.  What if one of those directors or producers is
nursing a bad case of sour grapes?  Who asked you for an option on
Midnight Kiss before I did?"

"I hardly think that Craig Kelly or Aaron Gold are going to waste their
time getting even with me by tiptoeing around in devil boots.  They're
both too busy with other projects," he said, tossing off two of the
biggest names in the movie bus' mess

"You turned them down?"  Jessica asked.  She'd suspected he'd gotten
some tempting offers.  She hadn't known how tempting.  " '" That's
right.  " " Why?  "

"They're both too caught up in their own vision.  Even when they work
from a book, the project.  has

"And you knew I'd be easier to control.  That you could come down here
and impose your will on me."  The memory of his lips moving over hers
and of his hands traveling se~.  suously down her body flooded back
through her.

"No.  I was impressed with your directing style, but I knew you'd
respect my artistic integrity."

Jessica ~hardly heard him because the blood was drumming so loudly in
her ears.  She set her mug down so quickly that coffee sloshed onto the
desk, "I--I have to go."

"You're not listening.  Instead you're jumping to conclusions about
me!"

"If you don't want me to jump to conclusions, give me some facts to
work with.  Like, for example, why won't you tell me what you locked in
the desk drawer when I came out of the bathroom last night?"

A pulse thrummed in her throat as she waited for him to answer.  Five.
,. ten.  fifteen seconds.  an eternity .  His jaw tightened, and she
knew she'd been a fool to think that anything real could have been
happening between them--when they'd talked.  When he'd

She felt a moment of panic when she couldn't recall.  where she'd left
her purse.  Then she remembered it had been on the shelf in the
bathroom since the night before.  With measured steps she retreated
down the hall and retrieved it~-somehow hoping against hope that when
she came back the look in his eyes would be different.  But Griffon was
staring down into his coffee mug.

She wanted him to say something, to stop her from walking away.  " To
tell her he hadn't been using her.

He added nothing to his previous exclamation.  So she walked out the
door with her shoulders squared, her head held high and her heart
hammering in her chest.

As soon AS SH~ WAS gone Matthew leapt out of his chair, crossed to the.
doorway and watched her head toward her car.  " Her stunning mane of
chestnut hair was the last part of her he' could see as she Vanished
among the pines.

He stood with his stomach churning--wanting to go after her.  Wanting
to explain why he was acting like such an ass.  No, wanting to hate her
for upsetting the even tenor of his life by asking for the fights' to
Midnight Kiss.  Before he'd known anything about her it had been easy
to shut her ~out.  After seeing her films, he'd let his fascination
with her cloud his judgment.

He clenched him hands into fists.  That wasn't going to happen again.
With jerky, graceless movements he turned back to the desk, unlocked
the drawer and snatched up the sheaf of papers.

Chapter Five

His resolve ~to stay away from Jessica had lasted a whole twenty-seven
hours, Matthew thought as he took a swallow of lukewarm coffee and
tried to find a comfortable position in the Goodwill reject chair that
squeaked every time he moved.  The chair was in the vacant 43 Light
Street office she was using for rehearsals.  He glanced at her and then
quickly into his cup before she noticed.  When he'd walked in he'd been
hoping-- He chopped off the thought.  He had no business to hope for
anything from Jessica Adams besides a good job of filming his story.
Still, he'd felt a void in his chest at her cool, detached look when
he'd interrupted the rehearsal.  She'd stopped the discussion and
introduced him around.  Then, before her cast could get sidetracked,
she'd pointed him toward the coffeepot in the back and gone on with her
meeting.  No one would have guessed that Matthew Griffon and Jessica
Adams were more than bus' mess associates or that she'd come alive in
his arms yesterday morning like a camellia-blossom in early spring.

SILENTLY I-m WATCHED and listened from his seat at the end of the
table.  The lady director was going over some fine points of the script
in her no-nonsense, all-business voice, and he couldn't help longing
for the other Jessica back.  God, what a contrast.  Fire and ice.
Restrained and wild.  It hadn't taken much to make her the heroine in
one of his fantasies.  Jessie.  He'd started.  calling her Jessie when
he fantasized about her.  The first.  time she'd been an innocent
maiden who'd fled an evil sorcerer and ended up in his cabin in the
woods. The next time he'd saved her from the vampire in Midnight Kiss
and shown her she did~i't need to turn to the forces of the darkness. 
God, what a laugh.  With a mental shake he forced his attention to the
rest of the cast.  They weren't exactly unknown quantities, but today
was the first time he could study them face-to-face.  Was one of them
the joker who'd pulled the nasty stunt out at Hampstead yes tear day? 
Or were they dealing with someone else?

Any questions before we start reading?  "" Jessica asked.

Edward Vanesco, the British actor who was playing the husband, cleared
his throat.  "Yesterday's run-through was quite illuminating but I
think we ought to do a spot more with' this Just confrontation scene."
His rich baritone voice had a commanding quality, acquired through
years on the London stage.  But Matthew noticed his hands trembled a
bit as he made the comment.

Diedre Rollins, who was sitting to his right, fir reed her lips.  In
the morning sunlight, the lines around her eyes stood out like embossed
lettering on the cover of a bestseller.  She looked a good ten years
older than her publicity shots and twenty years older than the
character of the wife in Midnight Kiss.  He hoped the makeup man was up
to the challenge.

"I'm not really prepared to discuss script changes at this time,"
Jessica told him.

Heather Nielson, the teenage actress playing the daughter, squirmed in
her seat.  "I understand, but like, you know, the girl's character
isn't sexy enough.  I'd pictured her more like a teenage Madonna."  She
tossed her long blond hair and batted her thickly mascaraed eyelashes
at Perry Dunmore for effect,

Dunmore gave Heather one of the trademark I-don't-give-a-damn looks
he'd perfected so well on Restless Nights, the daytime series that had
made him the darling of the soap opera digests.

Matthew watched the byplay and wondered how he'd do as the vampire.  He
had the looks--tall, dark, brooding--and from all reports, a temper and
a reckless streak to match.  But this role was going to put his acting
skills to the test.

"Were you volunteering for a nude scene?"  Jessica asked Heather.

The young woman flushed.

"Then why don't you shoot for poignancy and nobility.  Think Julia
Roberts in Steel Magnolias."

There was a ripple of comments and some snickers around the table.
Jessica let it die down before she picked up the agenda.  "Remember
we're on a tight schedule and budget, which doesn't leave us much time
for rewrites.  For now, let's all turn to page one and go through the
script again.  And let's start put?  ting in some o pounds the
emotion."

Matthew tried to look nonchalant as the cast brought his words to l/fe.
This was the first t/me he~d heard his work performed by others, and
the experience was unsettling.  It was strange, but as he listened he
was getting a sense of why his audience reacted so strongly.  He was
also glad he'.  d stuck by his convictions.  When Jessica had seen the
script she had argued that they should give the characters names.  He'd
come back with reasons why he wanted to keep the format of the book.
They'd faxed memos back and forth: When she'd come around to his
viewpoint, he'd known he hadn't made a grave mistake in trusting her
with his creative vision, after all.

Now his excitement leapt as Dunmore and Rollins went through the scene
where the vampire first sinks his teeth into the neck of the
love-starved wife.

Glancing up, he saw that Jessica was staring at him.  His elation was
mirrored in her eyes.  It's working.  God, see how well it's working.

A feeling of kinship swept over him, and he started to go to her.  Then
he remembered where they were and how they'd left things, and he knew
from her face that she was having the same reaction.  The intimate
contact snapped.  Wrapping his hands around his knee, he leaned back in
his chair and tried to look like the unobtrusive author.  But it was no
good.  For the rest of the session he was going to be as conscious of
Jessica and her reactions as his own.  ~

EXHAUSTED FROM the work session, Jessica swiped a stray lock of hair
back from her forehead and shuffled her notes into a pile.  For a
second reading, things had gone pretty well.  The members of the cast
might not love each other, but they were all professionals, determined
to shine in their parts.  She'd just have to make sure nobody did it at
someone else's expense.

"So which one do you think startffxi yesterday with a little
eXtracurricular acting-out in Hampstead?"

Jessica looked up to find herself facing Matthew Griffon.  "I thought
you left with everyone else."

'"No, you didn't.  You've been as aware of me as I've been of you."

His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans, as if he were
relaxed.  But they hadn't spoken privately since she'd left the
trailer, and she could tell from his expression that he was waiting to
see what would happen now that they were alone again.

She sighed.  He was right.  She'd felt silent messa~ passing back and
forth between them menthe'd walked in the door.  The rapport had so
intense that she'd had to remind herself happened every time they
ended.  up alone.  have the emotional energy to waste on a thought two
people sniping at each other were a meaningful exchange.

"Which east member is only pretending movie is the greatest-career
opportunity since Bride of Dracula?"  he persisted.

"I don't know."  She focused on the ~

better than worrying about the two of them.  "At~ I was thinking about
who might want to stab me back.  Then I got too involved in the:
reading about anything besides the way the cast was ing."

"You must not have very strong instincts self-preservation."  ~

"On the contrary."  Her eyes met him, and she could see he assumed she
wasn't going to elaborate.  Perhaps because she hated to give him the
satisfaction of pegging her correctly, she went on.  "Anyone who lived
in the same household with Cedric Adams learned basic survival skill.~
pretty quickly,"

She had the pleas are of see' rag his surprise.

"Are you saying he was as hard on his family as he was on his
associates?"  Griffon probed.

"I rarely saw him on the set, but my mother and

Griffon's sudden sharp expression made her break off in mid-sentence.
For a moment she was confused as she tried to interpret his obvious
tension.  Then she saw that he was staring at the door Heather had
closed when she'd left the room.  Keep talking, 'he mouthed as he
tiptoed across the room.

Jessica followed the direction of his gaze, her ears pricked.  She
heard nothing, but she could see a shadow where the bottom of the door
didn't quite meet the worn tile floor.  As she watched, the light
pattern shifted, but no footsteps receded.  Someone was out there,
listening to their conversation.

"You and your mother," Griffon prompted as he took another soundless
step toward the door.  "Or are you embarrassed to rattle the skeletons
in the family closet in front of someone like me?"  He might be setting
a trap for the listener, but the challenge in his voice was real.

"Like whom?"

"An outsider.  Someone who wasn't brought up in the glamorous world of
Hollywood where dreams come true."

"Dreams only come true when you work your butt off."

"Are you saying you think you have control over your life?  Over
fate?"

Her heart began to beat faster, and not because someone was spying on
them.  Griffon wasn't just tossing off meaningless observations.  He
had told her something she needed to know, and she wanted to keep h/m
talking.  "How were you brought up?"

"By salt of the earth working-class people.  By a mother and father who
loved me and who would do anything to make their kid happy."  He was no
longer looking at her or at the door.  And the expression of loss on
his face made her chest squeeze~ with sharp pain.

Then he seemed to remember what he was sup?  posed to be doing.  His
mouth tightened, and he began moving quietly along the wall toward the
door.  She wanted to tell him to stop.  Wait.  Give hera chance to find
out something more about him.  "What happened to your parents she asked
quietly.

"Each man kills the thing he loves."  Gdf~n bit off the words.  The
line wasn't his.  But it was familiar--from a poem Jessica had read,
but she couldn't remember where.

"Can't you answer a question straight out?"  Crriffon had almost
reached the door.  The hung in the air between them.  Then in one
smooth motion, he grabbed the knob, twisting and yanking at the same
time.  The door flew inward, and a woman~ practically fell into the
room.

Jessica stared at her in astonishment, the thread of her conversation
with Griffon severed as if a knife had cut through the air.  The
listener was Reva Kane, her assistant.  The woman gave a little squeak
of surprise and dismay as she toppled forward.

For a frozen moment, Jessica tried to process what she was seeing. Then
she rushed forward.  Griffon grabbed her arm before she'd made it
halfway across the room.

Reva scrambled to her feet under her own power.  Averting her eyes, she
began furiously brushing at the streaks of dust that had banded across
the bottom of her skirt.

"Are you all right?"  Jcs.  s. ica asked.

Griffon began to speak before Reva could answer.  "I think the more
pertinent question is, Do y~)u make a habit of listening in on private
conversations?"

Reva flushed to the roots of her red hair.  "I'm s-so sorry," she
stammered as she turned toward Jessica.  "I didn't intend to eavesdrop
on you and Mr.  Griffon I thought everyone had left for the day, and I
was going in to straighten up so the rehearsal room would he ready for
tomorrow.  Then I heard voices and I wasn't sure whether I should come
in.  I--I was trying to figure out who was in here."

"You could have iried knocking," Griffon pointed out.  "That's the
usual way to ascertain who's in a room."

"Well, you know how temperamental actors can be.  Sometimes they're
furious if you interrupt them in the middle of a scene.  I mean, it
could have been Vanesco and Rollins."

When Griffon didn't look entirely satisfied, Jessica hurried to her
assistant's defense.  "It's been a long day.  We're all a little bit on
edge.  And after what happened yesterday,~ Mr.  Griffon is"

His furious look stopped her in mid-sentence.  "And I'm not making a
very good impression on him," " Reva said in a low voice, brushing her
hand across the bottom.  of her skirt again.

"No.  Everything's perfectly okay."  Jessica patted her shoulder.

Cyriffontook Jessica's arm.  "Why don't we get out of your way."

"Yes.  Let me get my things."  She, shuffled the papers into her
briefcase and allowed herself to be escorted from the room.  She hadn't
planned to leave with Griffon but here they were together again, and
she' wasn sure whether-to be happy about it or alarmed.

He remained silent while she collected her coat from her office.  As
they waited for the elevator, he looked back toward the rehearsal
room.

"Do you trust Ms.  Kane?"  he asked after the door had closed and the
car began to descend.

"Yes.  And if you're looking for a make-believe vampire with a
connection to the film industry, ~it isn't her.  She was in advertising
in New York before she came to Baltimore.,

"Then how does she know so much about the temperament of actors?"

"She's been with Inner Harbor Productions for ~ight months.  She's had
plenty of opportunity to make those kinds of judgments."

"How do you feel about her?"  he persisted.

"She's been very helpful.  Willing to go that extra~ mile for me.  I
think she sees my company as an op,

Midnight IOzs port unity to build up a prestigious, well-paying job
with the advantages of living in a city like Baltimore.  This is the
first time we've done a feature film, and she's as anxious as everyone
else to make it work.  " Griffon looked somewhat mollified.

The elevator arrived at the first floor, and Jessica exited into the
lobby.  Last chance to escape.  "Well, here we are," she murmured.  "I
guess I'd better be' getting home."

When Griffon didn't.  reply, she took a couple of tentative Steps
toward the door.  If he was willing to explore the provocative remark
he'd made just before Reva had toppled into the room, she'd stay.  But
she was absolutely sure he wasn't going to pick up where they'd left
off.

Griffon caught up with her and put a hand on her arm.  "Don't go."

She gazed down at his long, sensitive fingers, feeling their strength
through several layers of fabric.  He wasn't gripping her hard enough
to physically hold her, yet his touch had stopped her in her tracks.
"Jessica, I'd like to have dinner with you."

She lifted her eyes to his.  "I never know what to expect from you. Are
you doing that on purpose?"

"No."

"You said you wished I'd trust you.  But you make that difficult."

"Why?"

"Every once in a while, you let your guard down.  Then you're sorry."

"You're too damn perceptive--too analytical' " That'swhat makes me a
good director.  "

"Proving that to the world is the most important thing in your life,
isn't it?  You don't want to be known as the no-talent daughter of a
Hollywood legend."

She swallowed.  "I think you're every bit as perceptive and analytical
as I am."

"You're wrong.  I operate on a much more instinctive level.  That's
what's driving me so damn crazy."  He turned to face her, his grasp
shifting so that he was holding both open lapels of her coat.  Neither
one of them moved.  In fact, she was having trouble simply breathing.

"Every time I'd look at you today, I'd remember the way your lips felt
against mine.  Soft.  Welcoming.  Then I'd want to reach for you," he
rasped.

She'd seen that in his eyes.  And if she were honest, she'd admit she'd
been fighting the same impulses.

Her mouth went dry as she saw intent gathering in his eyes.  Slowly,
very slowly, he let him fingers slide down the fabric of her lapels.
The folds of wool hid the backs of his hands, but Jessica was very
aware of them.  She drew in a sharp little breath as his knuckles
grazed the crests of her breasts.

She knew he heard, knew he was as of her physical response as she.  The
barest hands and her nipples were hard and aching.  should pull away.
Slap him for taking that kind outrageous physical liberty.  Yet she
stood rooted to t~ spot, her eyes unfocused, everything else forgotten
except the feeling of hot anticipation gathering body as him hands slid
upward again.

Behind her, a whooshing sound intruded private moment.  It took several
seconds open.

"Jessica?"  a woman's voice inquired.

Griffon's hands shifted slightly.  He didn't turn her coat loose, but
he moved so that he held the garment away from her body ins lead of
pressing against her.  "Jessica?"  The inquiry came again,

Jessica's eyes snapped back into focus, and she found herself staring
at the familiar face of Marissa Deveraux.  Marissa and her sister
Cassandra were the owners of Adventures in Travel, a very unusual
agency that had moved into the building two years ago.  The Deveraux
sisters could arrange anything from a Caribbean cruise or a group tour
of the French wine country to an ice-climbing expedition in the Alaskan
wilds.  And they often personally supervised the trips.

~ Of necessity, M. arissa was very good at sizing up unfamiliar
situations quickly.  With narrowed eyes, she looked from Jessica to
Griffon and, back again as if trying to determine whether her friend
was in trouble.  She seemed prepared to hang around until she found out
if assistance was needed.  "Are you okay?"

Jessica manufactured a social smile.  "I'm fine.  We were--uh--just
hashing over a bit from the movie.  You know.  Midnight Kiss.  Marissa,
this is Matthew Griffon.  Matthew--Marissa Deveraux, one of our
resident travel agents."

The other woman's cheeks colored.  "Oh.  Matthew Griffon, the author of
the book Jessica filming."

He nodded and extended his hand.  "Glad to meet you."

"Glad to meet you," Marissa echoed before making a quick exit.

Griffon waited until she'd lefL "I think we can find a better place to
continue this conversation.  Do you have any suggestions?"

Jessica decided not to mention that they had gone a bit beyond the
conversation stage.  She also knew that she wasn't going to invite
Matthew Griffon back to her apa~iment.  Maybe she wasn't going evening
with him at all.  That would be the smart~t

"I promised Riohie I'd get back to the owners of the: Carmichael
property."

"I've already done that."

"What?"

"I called an respect ion company after you left y~ terday, and we
checked out the house and grounds in the afternoon.  Then I went over
to Tom CarmichaePs and signed the deal.  You've got the estate.  At a
thousand a month."

"A thousand?  They wanted twice that."

"Well, since I'm coming up for the production, I have a vested interest
in penses.  I pointed outa number of problems--like basement stairs,
for example--and told them make repairs and carry our own liability
You've already got a policy, because that was my stipulations before I
agreed to the project."

She didn't know whether to be angry ragcously overstepped his role or
glad the problem out of her hands.  "Your making hal call on the
shooting location contract."

"I know.  But you were busy, and you were going to end up behind
schedule if you had to spend much more time on the decision."

"I wish you'd consulted me."

"Next tine I will."  He looked thoughtful.  "In fact, I'll even make a
peace offering and start with the papers I locked in the desk drawer
the other evening."

"Just like that?  You're going to let me in on One of your secrets."

"After due consideration."

She let him escort her down the street to the Hyatt

Regency and then up in the glass-enclosed elevator to the top floor
where a restaurant called Berry and Elliott's took full advantage of
the urban panorama.

Griffon paused as he surveyed' the spectacular view of the Inner Harbor
and the Baltimore skyline at twilight.  "You know how to show a
reclusive writer exactly what pleasures are missing from his life."

"Do I?"

His gaze went from the cityscape to: her face and then to her lapels,
and she fought a sudden breathy feeling.

"Matthew?"  Before he could answer, the maitre d' broke into the
conversation.

"Would you like a table.  for-dinner?"

"Yes," they both answered.

They were led past the nbisy happy-hour crowd in the bar and down
several steps to a table along the window wall.

"Well?"  Jessica asked when they were alone.  "You'll get what I
promised.  All in good time."

The response sent a little shiver down Jessica's spine.  Was he
referring to the verbal promise?  Or their more physical communication?
She wished it were easier to understand this man.

Above the din of voices from the bar, Jessica caught a snatch of the
background music the restaurant was playing.  The rhythm was a little
like waves crashing against-a shore, and she stopped, her attention
fixed on the vibrations.  She'd heard that sound recently.  But where?
A dreamy feeling stole over her, and she closed her eyes, drifting with
the waves.  "JeSsica?"  "Urn... What?"

"I asked what's good?"

With an effort, she brought herself back to the res-tau tant

"Is something wrong?  You looked as if you were a million miles
away."

"Tm--uh--just tired."

"Yeah.  I don't know how you keep up that schedule.  You'd better get
some food in you."

Jessica focused on the menu.  "Maryland crab cakes are a specialty. You
should try them or the crab soup?"  :~

"You mean this isn't the kind of Baltimore eatery they show in the
movies where the waiters cover tables with newspapers and bring out
steamed crabs?"  "Afraid not."

When the waiter came, Crriffon ordered a Scotch on the rocks, a bowl of
the soup and a small steak with a baked potato.

As they sipped theft drink Jessica waited for him!  to comment on
something besides the food, of the World Trade Center and the aquarium.
He'd lured her here with a promise to share some information.  But he
didn't seem inclined to get to the point.  By the time the soup arrived
she was tired of whatever game he was playing.

"Have you changed your mind about the papers?"  she demanded.

"No.  I was waiting to see how long you could hold out before asking a
direct question."

"Did I pass your test?"  "It wasn't a test."  "Then what?"

"I guess I can't resist teasing you."

' Jessica felt her breath catch as she stared into his face, trying to
judge the intent behind the words.  He might have been spout~g a facile
line, yet she knew this man wouldn't waste his time on anything so
superficial.  Teasing?  Is that what you've been ing?  "

He lifted his glass and took a swallow of his drink.  "When I've got
you alone, I find myself saying and doing things I shouldn't.  It's.
almost a compulsion."

She wasn't sure whether he'd answered the question.  "Why?"

"I can't help it.  You ~know, I have the absolute conviction that I
should do something unforgivable so that you won't want to have
anything to do with except so far as we're stuck in a working
relationship."

"Why?"  she asked O~e more time, her mouth so dry she could barely
utter the syllable.

"I like you too much to want to hurt you," he said, all traces of
lightness vanishing from his tone.

"Why do you think you will?"

His face might have been carved out of granite.  "Past experience.  I
told you, I've got a bad track record with... people I get close to."

"Is this what you consider close?"

He fiddled with his bread knife, and Jessica tried another approach.
"Maybe you've learned enough not to rap eat past mistakes."

"Maybe I'm making a mistake now.  Maybe it's always going to happen, no
matter what I do."

She wanted to lay her hand over his, but she knew that he had said more
than he intended--and that he wouldn't welcome the physical contacL She
looked down at her half-eaten bowl of soup.  Then she heard it again,
the music and the sound of the waves--and her mind went spinning off
into never-never land.

Chapter Six

"Jessica?"

It took a great effort to pull herself back and focus in on the man
sitting across from her.

"What?"  she whispered, startled at the thin sound of her own voice.

"Jessica, you were sitting there for more than a minute with your eJies
glazed over."

She stretched and yawned to shake off the lethargic feeling.  '. "A
minute?  I couldn't have been."

"You were, What's wrong?"

"I was listening to the sea" she said dreamily.  Far away she could
still hear it, and she wanted to go there again.

Griffon was very quiet for several seconds, his eyes narrowed.  "The
music?"

"Um."  She didn't really want to talk about it, and she was grateful
when he turned to another subject.

"Let's go back to who could be trying to frighten you, and why."

"Yes," she said too quickly.

"You told me your father had professional enemies.  You also said he
had trouble keeping household help.  What about the staff?  Did any of
them have a really good reason to hate him?"

"You mean reason enough to go' after his daughter fifteen or twenty
years later?"

He shrugged.  "Maybe we should talk to some of your father's former
employees;"

"About what?"  She watched him pull a notebook out of him pocket and
scribble something.  "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to see if I can find out the names of people who worked for
your family--who might hold a grudge.  against C. R. Adams."

"That's a little excessive, don't you think?"

He threw her a challenging look.  "I think it's time to discuss those
papers."

Earlier he'd made it sound as if he were going to do her a favor.  Now
she felt threatened, but she wasn't going to let him see that.  "Good"
was all she said.

He reached into his pocket and brought out several folded sheets.
Jessica could see the same red stripe down one side that had been on
the pages he'd locked up.

He handed them ?  to her, and Jessica realized they were, fax paper. 
Which meant that the red stripe probably indicated nothing more than
that he was getting dose to the end of the roll when he'd received the
transmission.

In boldface across the top of the first page was the name Perry
Dunmore.  Quickly she the rest.  Edward Vanesco.  Diedre Rollins.

Nielson.  Reva Kane.  Richie Elsworth.  Each of the ac~ tots in
Midnight Kiss and the members of her staff.  ~

"Why didn't you show me these before?"  she asked.

"I'm not in the habit of sharing."

She gave him a long look before returning to the material.  There was a
short biography on everybody, going back to their date and place of
birth.  Then came schooling, dates of employment and credit
information, along with more personal data--including arrest records.

Edward Vanesco had been hauled in for drunken driving three times and
had had his license suspended.  Perry Dunmore had been cited for
possession of marijuana--and had had trouble paying off gambling debts
acquired on several trips to Atlantic City.  Heather Nielson had
exaggerated her roles in the school productions that were part of her
resume.

Richie had been married at eighteen and divorced.  He'd never mentioned
his brief marriage--or the fact that his ex' wife was hounding him for
child support that he found difficult to pay.  Reva's resume said she'd
graduated from Rochester College~ But she'd actually dropped out during
her senior year.  Last year Diedre had been branded an unfit mother in
a nasty custody battle for her adopted twelve-year' old son.

Valuable insights, maybe, if you had a suspicious mind.  But Jessica
felt her righteous indignation rising as she read the dossiers.

"Vanesco and Rollins are old enough to have' worked with your father. I
should have checked to see if either one of them was ever in a C, R.
Adams production."

"It wasn't in either of their credits.  I would have noticed."  ~,

"Yet maybe they're hiding it.  Maybe one of them hated his guts and
sees an opportunity to take it out on you."

"That's ridiculous!"  Even as Jessica uttered the protest she realized
he could be right.  Still, that didn't make her feel any better about
the information Griffon had covertly collected.  C. R. had sometimes
secretly done background checks on actors~ and she hated that sort of
distrustful mentality.

"What gives' you the right to pry into people's private lives?"

"I sure as hell have the right to try to figure out who's playing
vampire."

"You didn't know anything like that was going to happen when you had
these dossiers made."

"I knew there was the potential for trouble."  "Oh?"

"I believe in being prepared for all eventualities."

"I don't like this kind of preparation."

"You don't like what happened the other morning, either."

She swallowed but said nothing--wondering which one of them was being
illogical.  She'd already upset when he'd pulled out the papers.  Maybe
the tailed information should have been reassuring, they only made her
feel like a voyeur.

It was apparent Griffon hadn't expected her reaction.  Probably he'd
assumed she'd be

His eyes were hard, challenging as they held Then he slowly pulled
another set of papers pocket.  Still be hesitated before handing them
the table.

"You've got something I'm going to like even less?"  she managed.  "The
really juicy stuff?  Abortions?  Sex change operations?  What?"

"Nothing like that.  But you'll react more strongly, I'm sure."

Jessica unfolded the sheets and found herself looking at her own
biography.  It was more complete.  than the others and had everything
from her high school grade-point average to notations about her home
life.  There were even things she didn't know--like a couple of affairs
C. R. had been carrying on.  If it was.  true.

But why shouldn't it be?  Everything else was right on the mark.  Even
her boyfriends were on record--including her first disastrous love
affair, Mortification swept over her as she remembered the emotional
energy she'd invested in Tony.  She'd thought they were going to get
married, and he'd simply been out for a good time--with C. R. Adams's
only daughter.

She scanned the pages, seeing more things She'd have sworn nobody knew,
things that she had hoped nobody knew.

"Why did you.  pretend to be surprised when I told you about how C.R.
treated me and More?"

- "I wasn't pretending.  I was just trying to get a handle on your
point of view--how you saw your family life."

"Oh, it was just great!"

"A lot of kids would have envied you."

She snorted.  "Right.  Because they only saw it from the outside.  But
don't change the subject the way you do when you want to weasel out
of.a discussion.  I want to know how you got all this dirt.  Did you
hire a pri~ .  rate detective?"

"Two detectives.  One for you.  One for the rest of our happy little
family.  And it's not dirt.  It's re-search--which it looks as if we're
going to need."

"Oh?  Has it led you to any sinister conclusions?"  Maybe I'm trying to
sabotage my own production be cause I don't really want to succeed. "

"Don't be ridiculous, Jessica."

"Me?  You're the one who hired the investigator.  You have a hell of a
nerve prying into my private life.  Or anyone else's."

"I told you--I like to.  know where I stand."  "This is"

"Unforgivable?"  he asked mildly.

"Yes."  Pushing back her seat, she grabbed her purse and marched out of
the restaurant.

JeSSiCA SEETHED all the way down in the elevator and across the lobby. 
As-she stepped out the door of the hold, a blast of cold air hit her in
the face, chilling her feverish skin and making her mind begin to work
again.

She strode quickly down the block, intending to cover the quarter-mile
to her apartment as rapidly as possible.  Instead she paused before she
came to Pratt Street.  Almost against her will, she stopped and looked
up toward the restaurant.  Most of the tables ringing the picture
windows were occupied by couples or parties of four.  But in the middle
of the convivial scene she spotted a dark-haired man sitting facing in
her direction.  At this distance, make out his features, but somehow
she knew it was.

She gazed up at the solitary figure, feeling his absolute isolation and
realizing suddenly that he'd done exactly what he'd said be wanted to
do.  Something unforgivable.  Something that would make it impossible
for her to have more than a professional interest in him~

Yet maybe he hadn't planned it that way.  Maybe it had b~n a defensive
reaction to her anger.

Jessica stood rooted to the spot, gazing up at him,.  wishing she could
see his expression.  He looked far away and unreachable like a figure
in a long shot.  If she'd had a camera, she could have zoomed in on
him.  Mentally she tried to change the focus.  There was no way to tell
for sure, but she' sensed that he was looking at her as intensely as
she was looking at him.

The silent communion continued for several more seconds.  Then she
wrenched herself away.  Shoulders hunched against the wind and hands
clenched into, fists, she headed up Light Street, listening to the
sound of her own heels on the sidewalk.

Click.  Click.  Click.  At first there was only the wordless sound.
Then the staccato taps began to resolve themselves into a refrain.
"Each man kills the thing he loves.  Each man kills the thing he
loves."  She shuddered.  "Each man kills..."

Griffon had said that.  Just before he'd pounced on Reva back in the
rehearsal room.  So much had.  hap-pcned in the short time since then
that she'd forgotten all about it.  She stopped and mulled over the
phrase.  She hadn't had any idea what he meant.  Was he talking in
metaphors?  She didn't kfiow, but she was pretty sure it had more than
casual meaning to Griffon.

She focused on the words, seeing them in black type on a white page.
All at once she knew where she'd read the line.  It was the quotation
at the front of his second book, The Haunting of Greg Matthews.  The
one she hadn't read much of, because the beginning had been too
disturbing.

Shivering, Jessica wrapped her coat more tightly around her body.  The
book was about a young boy whose patents had been killed--changing his
life -in an instant.  Suddenly the odd comment he made when she'd asked
him.  for reassurances in the restaurant made a little more sense.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she hurried toward her apartment.  She could
feel the book pulling her almost like a physical force.  Secrets were
locked in those pages--just the way he'd locked the papers in the
drawer.  Only the book was something personal.  His words.  His
emotions.  Characters he'd invented to speak his thoughts.  Not a set
of factual reports from a detective agency.

Her anticipation was so intense that she barely registered her
surroundings, until she began to sense a presence behind her.

Following.

Was Griffon trying to catch up?  Had he come to apologize?  Or to stop
her?  Could he have .  ~ she had in mind?  No.  The man had a lot of
talents but he wasn't clairvoyant.

Still, Jessica cast a glance over her shoulder, draw- i ing in a small
measure of relief when she detected nothing out of the ordinary.  The
other pedestrians on the street were all heading in the opposite
direction.  But the fear of being watched wouldn't go away.

felt this way not long ago, at the Carmichael house.  After a few more
steps, she stopped abruptly and mined all the way around.

There was still nothing.  Nothing except a flutter of movement in the
shadows surrounding the World Trade Center.  It was as if someone or
something had ducked behind the gate that led to the walkway along the
water~ Except that she remembered it was locked at night.

She had reached the open expanse of plaza that heralded the Aquarium.
The cold wind blowing off the water lifled her hair, flinging it around
her face so that it was difficult to see.  Combing the strands off her
forehead with icy fingers, she hurried on.

Something sailed through the air, colliding with her face, and she
screamed, imagining a black-winged creature swooping out of the night
sky.

Snatching frantically, she found she had captured a rumpled piece of
paper that looked as if it had come from a sandwich.  In fact it
smelled like pickles and mustard.

"Attack of the Killer Pickles, my next major feature film.," she
muttered in self-derision as she.  squeezed the paper into a ball and
tossed it into a nearby ~rash can.  There were no creatures of the
night.  No phantoms in the dark~ besides the monsters of her
imagination and the pretend vampire that had come after her at the
trailer.

Still, all she wanted to do was get inside, out of the wind and
darkness.  Unconsciously digging her nails into the palms of her hands,
she picked up her pace until she was jogging along the sidewalk
covering the last few hundred paces to her apartment building like a
sprinter in the one-hundred yard dash.

The door to the lobby was only a few yards away, ar, d she breathed a
sigh of relief as she fairly leapt inside the door.  When the desk
clerk looked up inquiringly, she blushed.  "I ... uh... thought I saw a
rat coming out of the gutter," she improvised.

"Damn things.  Want me to have a look?"

"No.  It's probably gone."  Cutting the conversation short, she hurried
to the elevators and punched the button.  She was letting herself get
spooked.  But it was impossible to simply dismiss the sensation of
being stalked.  She didn't feel entirely safe until she'd closed the
door to her apartment, locked it and walked through the rooms, opening
closets and making sure no one was lurking there.

Nonplussed at her paranoia, she headed for the den, where her Matthew
Griffon collection was piled on one of the end tables.  She'd acquired
the books over a three-week period.  First she'd read Midnight Kiss.
Then she'd had to go out and buy Wings of the Raven.  Then Last Train
from Eden.  Each one had kept her up all night reading.  Each one had
made her feel the characters' hopes and fears so acutely that it had
been like getting to know real people.  And the maddening part was that
Jessica never knew whether the author was going to make it come out all
right.  Damn him.  He had it in his power to grant happiness to the
people' he created.  Yet, as likely as not, he left them in despair. Or
gave them only part of what they wanted

But that hadn't stopped her from coming back for more punishment, she
mused as she pulled The

Haunting of Greg Matthews' from the bottom of the stack.

The book seemed to tingle in her fingers, and she struggled with an
attack of uncertainty.  Stalling, she fixed herself a mug of tea and
thawed a couple of blueberry muffins to replace the dinner she'd left
on the table in the restaurant.

She ate the substitute slowly, but finally there were no delaying
tactics left.  After setting down her mug, Jessica made herself
comfortable on the sofa and opened the book.

The quotation she remembered was on the first page.  "Each man kills
the thing he loves."  Oscar Wilde.  The Ballad of Reading Gaol.

Then came Griffon's first words.  "After the accident, everybody
assured Greg Matthews that he had been lucky.  He never had the guts to
tell them what he really believed.  That he was living under a curse
that would follow him to the grave and beyond."

Jessica felt her stomach clench around the tea and muffins as she read
the paragraphs that followed.

The carnival had come to town, and ten-year-old Greg Matthews had
begged his parents to take him.  Finally they'd given in.  And for an
hour and a half, Greg had been in heaven as he'd ridden the Ferris
wheel, toured the House of Horrors and stuffed himself with chili dogs
and soda pop.  He'd left his parents standing in line for the Whip and
gone off to get a cotton candy when the disaster had struck.  One of
the cars on the ride was not secured properly.  As it whi?  ~ed around
a curve, it broke loose, sailing through the air and into the crowd of
people waiting in line.

Four of them were killed.  Including Peggy and Lawrence Matthews.  Greg
turned around to see the purple-and-yellow car plow into human flesh.
Heard the screams.  Rushed forward to try to get to his parents.
Well-meaning hands restrained him.  Kept him from reaching the broken
bodies.  But the sight of that runaway car streaking through the air
and striking the crowd like a'giant bowling ball knocking down a set of
flimsy pins would be etched in his memory until the day he died.

Jessica stopped reading when she could no longer see through the film
of tears that blurred her vision.  The images and emotions were so
vivid--starting with Greg's feeling of joy mixed with triumph when his
parents agreed to take him to the carnival.  Then came the magic of the
midway with its sights, sounds and smells calculated to entrance a
ten-year-old.  The enticing spiels of the barkers.  The colorfully
painted booths.  The sugary aroma of jun~k food.  Only the screams of a
few patrons on the Ferris wheel fores shadowed the tragedy to come.
-~

And the horror.  The fear.  The guilt.  Because Greg was convinced his
parents' death was his fault.  He was the one who had begged and
wheedled and pleaded until they'd given in and taken him to the
earuival--done something they thought would make him happy.  And look
how it had turned out.

"Oh God," Jessica murmured as she stared unseeing down at the page,
thinking about the way he'd reversed the initials.  "Greg Matthews.
Matthew Griffon."

Was that really what had happened to him?  Literally?  Was that why
he'd told her nothing in life was certain?  Orwas thi.  qbook an
allegory, a story in which fictional events became symbols for real
ones?

It was almost impossible for her to go back to the narrative.  But she
forced herself to read on.

G-rag went to live with his grandfather in New England.  The old man
loved the boy, but he wasn't equipped to cope with Greg withdrawal from
the world.

His grandfather.  Hadn't Matthew said something about inheriting his
grandfather's tract of land and his cabin in the woods?

In the story, Greg became more and more involved in a fantasyland he
made up.  Subtly, as the story progressed, the place became a separate
reality--another universe more real than Greg's actual life.  Then
creatures from that dark world tried to use him as a bridge to this
one, and Greg found himself fighting for the survival of mankind.

Jessica looked up, not really surprised that she'd been glued to the
book for over four hours.  The story had grabbed her by the scruff of
the neck and dragged her along.  It all seemed so real, although after
the first few chapters' she knew it had to be i~atthew Griffon, s
fantasy.  There was no alternate universe full of evil beings clamoring
to cross 'into this world.  But one section had made her grip the book
more tightly.  It was the part where Greg fell in love with a young
woman named Gena.  The two of them joined forces to defeat the evil
invasion.  In a scene as powerful and disturbing as the beginning of
the book, Gena sacri-riced herself to save Greg.

Feeling utterly drained, Jessica set down the volume.  She wasn't
finished, but she didn't think she could read any more now.  Maybe
because she suspected that the story wasn't going-to come out the way
she wanted.  Greg was going to have to die to save mankind.  She didn't
want to read that part.

Her body was stiff as she pushed herself off the ~ouch and walked to
the window overlooking the harbor.  The view was one of the things that
had sold her on the apartment.  Tonight she couldn't see the lights
flickering in the blackness, only Griffon's haunted face.

When he'd been a little boy, he'd watched his parents die.  She was
sure of that.  And later?  Had there been a woman he'd loved?  Had she
died, too?  In another freak accident where he'd been present?  Or
maybe some military action in a foreign country.  Something violent,
she was sure of that much.  Was that why he was afraid to get close to
anyone again?

She and Griffon were powerfully attracted to each other.  But the
evening had ended the way it always did when they started to get close.
He'd done something to sever their growing rapport.  Tonight, he~d
almost cut the tie for good.

"I'm a bad risk.  I don't want to hurt you," he'd said.  That made a
chilling combination with the line he'd used to preface the book she'd
just been reading.  "Each man kills the thing he loves."

"No, Matthew.  No.  It doesn't have to be that way,"

It was very late.  But she had to go to him.  Tell him how she felt
after reading the Greg Matthews book.  Make him understand that there
was nothing to fear from the intensity of the relationship building
between them.  It had been building since before they'd met.  Since
she'd first read his prose and felt its potency.  And she hadn't been
the only one.  He'd watched her films.  She'd sensed he'd wanted to
know her as much as she wanted to know him.  Then they'd kissed. 
Unable to-stop herself, she felt the stirring eroticism of that
physical contact flood back through her.  Even now, almost two days
later her skin flushed.  Nothing in her experience had affected her
like that encounter.  But she'd been~ denying it ever since cause she
hadn't known where to go from there.

She glanced at the clock and then the phone.  She had to make him open
up to her.  But the last thing she wanted was to give him any warning
of What they needed-to talk about.  She had to see his face when she
confronted him with her new insights.  She grabbed her purse, then
stopped in frustration.  There was no way she was going to drive all
the way out to Hampstead in the middle of the night unless she knew he
was there.  She had to call.

His voice pager number was in her appointment book.  She dialed,
punched in his ID number and followed the instructions to leave a
message.

"Matthew, please get back to me as soon as possible.  I need to talk to
you.  I realize it's late.  But it's important.  Where are you?

A couple of minutes after she'd hung up, her phone rang.  "Jessica?"

She felt a little surge of triumph.  At least he'd replied promptly.

"It's after midnight."

"I know."

"You need to talk about something that can't wait until tomorrow?"  His
voice was guarded--as if he expected retaliation for the scene at the
restaurant.

She kept her tone carefully neutral.  "I'll be tied up with rehearsals
all day again."

"Is there some problem with the production?"

"Yes," she murmured.  In a way you could call it~ that.  Anything that
affected the two of them affected the production.  "I want to come out
to'

"Jessica, it's a long drive.  And it's late."

"I know, but I'll be there as soon as I can."  Instead of giving him a
chance to protest, she quickly said goodbye and hung up and grabbed her
coat.  By.-- possing the lobby, she took the elevator straight to the
lower level of the garage where her car was parked.

Keeping her hand on the button that held the open, she peered into the
cavernous space full of ears lined up in numbered space?  facility Was
well lit--and about as safe as you make a downtown parking garage.
Security guards patrolled the area.  The automatic doors were locke~2:
and you needed to check in with one of the attendants before driving
inside.  But the feeling of being observed came back as her gaze probed
the between the vehicles.  If she hadn't wanted to talk' Matthew so
badly she would have abandoned plans and gone back upstairs. Instead
she stepped from the safety of the elevator.

Her footsteps echoed loudly on the concrete floor as she headed for
space 89.  It was several hundred yards from the elevator and over in a
corner--a location she hated, because she was always afraid she was
going to hit the wall when she pulled in and out.  So far
management-hadn't been able to give her an alternative.

Unconsciously hunching her head into the collar of her coat, she
couldn't stop herself from scanning the area as she walked, so she was
almost to the ear before it became the focus of her attention.  When it
did, she came to a dead stop, and her heart started pounding in her
throat as she stared through the side window.  Either she was seeing
some freak reflection in the glass, or someone was sitting in the
driver's seat.

"Hey," she called out, unwilling to get any closer.  "What are you
doing in my car?"  The intruder didn't move a muscle.

"You need some help, Ms.  Adams?"

The unexpected question came from over her left shoulder, and she spun
around to find herself facing one of the apartment's security guards.
Tom Ward, his name tag said.

Jessica breathed in a gust of exhaust-tainted air and let it out in a
rush.  "Yes.  Thanks.  It looks as if someone's climbed into my car."
She pointed, and the guard followed the direction of the gesture.

"You stay back, Miss."  Ward drew his gun and began to tiptoe forward.
Jessica knew she should obey his terse command, but it was impossible
to stand alone in the middle of the cavernous space.  Cautiously she
tiptoed after the man.

"All right.  Git outa them, buddy!  Quick!"  Ward reached the car and
banged on the window.  The man inside didn't move a muscle.  Ward
pulled the door open.  With a sickening thud that seemed to echo
through the garage, a limp body fell out onto the concrete floor.

Chapter Seven

Jessica gasped and jumped back.  The guard seemed just as startled as
she.  Gingerly he knelt beside the man on the concrete floor and felt
at the side of his neck for a pulse.  "He's dead."

"Oh Lord."  Jessica stared at the crumpled figure as the guard rolled
him to his back.  His hair was~ matted A blond stubble covered his
cheeks and chin.  His fingernails were grimy and broken.  But it was
his face that drew her attention.  His features were frozen in an
expression of shock and horror that made her stomach lurch into her
throat.  She clenched her teeth and willed the sick feeling down.

"You okay?"

Jessica nodded tightlyl rocking back and forth on his heels.  "He looks
like he's been living on the street," she murmured, forcing her gaze
over his stained, grimy clothes.

"Maybe he slipped into the garage to get out of the storm."

"It's raining?"  Jessica had been so preoccupied she hadn't been aware
of the weather.

"Yeah, buckets.,"

She swung around in the direction of the exit.  "How did he get in
here?  I thought the doors were secured."

Ward looked embarrassed.  "There are ways around almost any garage
security system.  I guess he wanted a dry place to sleep.  Bad luck
that he picked your car for a bedroom.  Was it locked?"

"I--I thought so, but I could have forgotten, I suppose."

"We'd better notify the polic~."

"Of course."  Jaw clenched, Jessica peered inside the car.  A man had
died in there!  In the driver's seat.  Her stomach rot led again, and
she doubted whether she'd he able to climb behind the wheel anytime
soon.

The guard went to make the call, and she was left alone with the body.
By slow degrees, she allowed herself to bring him into focus.  He was a
small, pitiful looking fellow who had probably.  had a hard life.
Somehow it made her feel a little better that he wasn't anyone she
knew.  Or anyone she'd seen in the harbor area before.  Under the
grime, his skin was as pale as fine porcelain, as if-- As if all the
blood had been drained from his body.

A little chill traveled up Jessica's spine as she bent toward him.  His
head was turned to one side, and she could see something on his
neck--something that pulled her closer.

Slowly she knelt.  Almost against her will, she angled her head to get
a better look.  On his throat were two small puncture marks--one on
either side.  Two wicked looking little wounds that could have been
made by the sharp, pointed teeth of a vampire.

JESSICA STI~.  ~. ~ a sound that was half cry, half moan.  Scrambling
up, she backed away from the body.  Every instinct urged her to run and
keep running.  Instead she forced herself to take another look at the
man's neck, hoping her imagination had somehow conjured up the wounds
or that they were a trick of the lighting.  But the blemishes hadn't
gone away.  They still marred the dirty flesh like two vicious jabs
from an ice pick.

As she stared at them, a scene leapt into her mind.  From one of the
early chapters of Midnight Kiss.  The vampire has denied himself blood
for several days and finally needs to feed.  So he steals a car, goes
down to the docks where the homeless men live and pretends he's looking
for a sexual partner.  One of them agrees to come with him, and he
drives to a deserted road where he ira mobilizes the man with his
mesmerizing words and touch.  After he feeds, he puts the victim in the
driver's seat and pushes the car into a swamp.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her eyes pinned to the tiny wounds, her
thoughts spinning hetwcen fiction and reality.

The guard came hack and folio wed the direction of Jessica's fixed
stare.

"You see something?"

"On his neck."

Squatting down, he took a closer look.  "Oh, yeah.  Kind of queer," he
mused, "Never came across not bing like that before.  Have you?"

"No," she managed to say.  Two days ago she'd thought a vampire was
stalking her, but she and Matthew had pretty well figured out how it
had been done.  There were no vampires.  They didn't attack Baltimore
citizens--not even the homeless.  They only ex isted'in superstitious
legends and the books of Brain Stoker, Matthew Griffon and a few other
highly imaginative writers.

But if there were no vampires, why was this man lying dead on the floor
of the garage with two puncture wounds in his neck?

"What do you think happened to him?"  she asked.  He shrugged.  "I
don't know.  Maybehe was an addict looking for a new place to shoot up.
Maybe he overdosed."

"Drugs," she repeated, wanting to believe that, willing to take any
sane explanation--instead of the recreation of a scene from one of
Griffon's stories.  The only difference was the ending.  The dead man
was in her car in her apatiment garage instead of in a swamp.

"So what have we got here?"

Jessica was so caught up in her own churning thoughts that she hadn't
seen a city police car arrive.  The question was asked by an Officer
Werner, a blond blue-eyed man who looked as if he'd be more at home in
a Prussian army uniform than one from the Baltimore Police
Department.

"Vagrant.  Died in one of the cars," the security guard supplied in
clipped phrases.  "Haven't seen him in the vicinity before.  Could be
an addict."

Jessica was impressed with the terse explanation.  She couldn't have
dredged up anything half as succinct and to the point.

"Your vehicle?"  Werner asked her.

"Well, the detectives will need to ask you some questions."

"Why?"

"We've got to treat this as a homicide investigation."

"You... you think he was murdered?"

"That's always the assumption with an.  unidentified body--until we
come up with another explanation."

Jessica was asked to wait while the official investigation rolled on.
Two detectives arrived within the half hour, and she supposed she
should be paying attention to the details so she could use them for
authenticity in Midnight Kiss.  But she was too shaken for anything
that constructive.  ~

The best she could do was respond to the questions asked by the
detective who'd introduced himself as Filmore.

"Why did you come down to the garage at this time of night, ma'am?  Did
the guard call you?"  ~

"No.  I was on my way to a business appointment."

Filmore raised his eyebrows.  "What business are you in, ma'am?"

'-"I'm a movie director--with my own production company.  I'v~ been
busy all day with rehearsals, and this was the first opportunity the
author of the script and I had to confer."

Filmore took it down.  "The author's name?"  "Matthew Griffon."

Apparently the detective wasn't much into the horror genre, because he
dropped the subject and went back to questions about the victim.  "You
know him?  Seen him before?"

She shook her head, wishing she could at least get out of the garage.
Away from the body.  Couldn't they do this somewhere else?

"Any idea why he picked your vehicle?"

"I don't know.  It was in the corner.  Mayhe he thought no one would
see him."

The crime scene crew arrived, and Filmore went to confer with the
newcomers.  Jessica slumped against the fender of the nearest car. 
When a new sound invaded the cavernous garage, she realized she was
hearing tires squealing on the concrete.  She looked up in time to see
a small silver sports car careening around the corner, missing one of
the concrete posts by inches.  It bounced to a stop in back of the
ambulance that had arrived earlier.

"Hey.  This area's supposed to be secured."  Fil-more left the official
group and trotted toward the intruder.

Griffon barreled around the ambulance.  "Just a moment, sir."

"Matthew!"  Jessica breathed.

"Are you all right?"  he asked, ignoring the detective and closing the
distance between him self and Jessica.

"Do you have official business here?"  Filmore tried again as he
stepped to block his path.  But Griffon detoured around him.  Once
again, he headed straight toward Jessica, his eyes never wavering from
her.  When he took her by the shoulders, she let out a little
shuddering sigh.  Then his arms were around her, gathering her close.

113'

Until the first contact of his flesh against hers, she hadn't realized
how much she needed to be comforted.  Held.  By someone who cared.

Because he did care.  No matter how much he had tried to hide it, she
knew it now.

"Thank you," she whispered, "Thank you for coming."

"Are you all right?"  he repeated, piling her closer.  His voice was an
octave lower and several degrees rougher than she'd heard before.  HIS
fingers stroked over her shoulders, her hair, her face, transmitting
important messages.  Intimate messages.  As if they were the only two
people in a vast wasteland, and they had finally found each other.

"Yes."  She wanted to close her eyes and do nothing more than exist in
the circle of his arms.  In a space that small.  But she couldn't make
sense of his arrival.  Cocking her head back, she searched his eyes.
"How... did you get here?"

"In that little sports job I keep under the camper.  Sometimes it comes
in real handy.  I was waiting for you, wondering what you wanted to
talk about."  He stopped abruptly.  "When you didn't show up, I cad led
your apartment and got your answering machine.  Then I started
listening to the police band.  They said there was a dead man in a car.
With your license number."

Until now, Jessica had managed to stay in control.  Without warning,
tears gathered in her eyes, tears she couldn't prevent from spilling
down her cheeks.  "It was awful," she whispered.  "I came down here,
and he was sitting behind the wheel, and I didn't know who he was. Then
when Mr.  Ward opened the door,

he fell out on the floor like a sack of--of"-- The eli-eh6 potatoes had
leapt to her mind.  Somehow that was more heart-wrenching, as'if the
man's life had been worth no more than a bag of produce.

"And they've kept you hanging around the whole time," he grated.  "God,
I wish I'd gotten here sooner.  We're going upstairs."  He took her by
the shoulder.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what you're doing here, "
buddy Filmore interjected.

Jessica looked up, startled.  As soon as she'd started talking to
Matthew, the rest of the world had gone away.

"I'm Matthew Griffon.  I was supposed to have a conference with Miss
Adams this evening.  Officer Werner was kind enough to let me into the
garage."

"Oh, yeah?  Well, I'll want to ask you some ques " I'll be in Ms.
Adams's apartment.  "

The two men stared at each other.  Filmore had the authority to detain
them, but he must have seen something in Griffon's eyes that made him
back off.

"Make sure I can find you there," he growled.  Then he wheeled and
returned to the waiting ambulance attendants.

Jessiea's mind had gone white.  Like white noise.  No sound.  No
thought.  If she started to think, she'd be in a world where someone
had thrown out all the safe, comfortable rules.  She let Griffon lead
her to the elevator.  He punched the right button and when they got out
on her floor, he escorted her to her door, all of it as if he'd been
here a hundred times before.

She stood uncertainly in the middle of her living room.  It was Griffon
who led her to the couch.  G-frifon who asked where to find some liquor
and then rnmma'ged in the cabinet at the base of her wall unit. Griffon
who came back with a juice glass that he'd half filled with ~brandy
that some client had sent her last Christmas.

"Sorry I couldn't find a shifter."

".I don't have any."

She smelled the brandy as he sat down beside her and lifted the glass
to her mouth.

Obediently she took a swallow, recoiling at the fiery sensation.  Her
eyes watered again.  "I"

"Drink some more?"

She took another couple of sips.

Griffon seemed satisfied and put the glass on the coffee table.

"Did you see him?"  she whispered.

"The dead man?  No.  I was only looking at you."

,"I can't forget the ... the expression on his face.  He was afraid of
something.~Horrified."

He waited quietly, as if he knew that wasn't the worst.

"And there ... there were puncture wounds on his neck.  Mr.  Ward
thought it might have been from drugs.  But they looked too big to be
from a hypodermic" '

"Are you sure?"

"I saw them!  They were like--like" -- She couldn't bring herself
to-say it;

"The tooth marks made by a vampire?"  he finished for her.

She nodded.

He muttered a sound that was part curse, part growl.  Then he was
standing up, pacing to the window and back again.

"It was like the scene in Midnight Kiss, when he picks up the homeless
man and takes him for a last

"Is that what you're thinking about?  My damn book?"

"I've made vampires seem very real.  Too real.  And not just to you,
apparently."

She nodded again, huddling on the couch.

"The medical examiner will do an autopsy.  Don't let your mind spin off
into fantasyland until you have some real evidence."

Before she could answer, the doorbell rang.

"It's probably that pompous ass Filmore," Griffon growled.  "Checking
up on us."

He was right.  The detective had come upstairs to ask Griffon where
he'd been that evening.

Closing her eyes and leaning back into the cushions Jessica let the two
men do most of the talking.  Finally Filmore left, and griffon turned
back to her.  "You need some sleep."

"Fat chance."

"At least lie down.  What kind of music do you listen to when you want
to relax?"

"Not music.  I've got some tapes my mother made when I was a kid.  One
had waves crashing against the beach.  Like when the vampire was
calling me."  She stopped abruptly, her body cold all over.  "What did
I just say?"

"You said it had waves crashing against the beach--like when the
vampire was calling you."

"My God.  Now I ~exaember!  I heard the waves that morning, and they
made me feel dreamy and peaceful.  Then when the voice called me, I got
out of bed and went to the window."  She looked up at him,

He came down beside her on the couch and took her hand.  Without
conscious thought, she turned her palm ~up and knit her fingers with
his--as if the contact with his warm flesh would keep her anchored to
the here and now.

"You told me about the waves in the restaurant."

"Yes.  But I didn't connect it."

"Well, it made me think about some research I'd done.  For Last Train
from Eden."

"Your book where the villain has a nightclub hypnotist act?"

"Yeah.  I studied the subject pretty extensively before I started to
write.  " The sound of waves is often used to help induce a trance.  Or
the subject is asked to imagine himself on a ~beach, listening to the
breakers.  " With his free hand, Griffon fumbled in his breast pocket
and pulled out some folded papers.  " So I went back to my library and
pulled out some books.  "

Jessica cringed as she stared at the white sheets.  "This is different
from the stuff at dinner," he said quietly.  Something I photocopied
this evening.  You should read it.  "

She took the pages and scanned the text--which was from two different
books on hypnotism.  The material was about how a trance could be
induced--often with both a visual and an auditory component.  And G-fir
fon was right, the sound of waves was often 'included.  Initially it
might take several minutes to put a subject under.  But after the
person became sensitized to the technique, the process was much easier.
Sometimes just a trigger phrase or word was enough.

"Are you saying my mother used hypnotism on me?"  she asked when she'd
finished reading.  ~' "Tell me about the tape she made."

"When I was eleven or twelve I was having trouble sleeping because" She
stopped abruptly, unwilling to get into how much she'd hated hearing C.
R. rant and rave in the evenings when he thdught a film wasn't going
smoothly.  "So my mother made me a tape at our beach house.  And... and
I used it when I went to bed.  There were the waves in the background
and' her voice talking ~softly to me, telling me to relax, that I felt
wonderful, and that it would be so easy to fall asleep."

"That's a lot like these descriptions of hypnotic inductions."  He
tapped the sheets.

Jessica nodded.  "More could have read about it and decided to use it.
She liked sneaking things over on,

people.  I guess she got it from dealing with C. R. " " You've hung on
to the tape for a long time,": " Yes.  After Mom died, I made a
collection of things she'd given me.  But, really, I haven't used the
tape in years.  I only thought of it because I was feeling.  scared.
"

He squeezed her hand more tightly.  "If someone had searched your
apartment, he'd know about the cassette.  Or he could have talked to
people who lived in your household when you were a kid.  Of course, I'm
just using the masculine pronoun for convenience.  It could just as
easily have been a woman.  If she knew you were susceptible, all she
had to do was push the right buttons to put you into a trance the other
morning."

Jessica shuddered, feeling as if electrodes were worming their way into
the tissue of her brain.  She remembered the stories her friend Noel
Zacharias had told her about what it felt like to have someone messing
with your mind.  Suddenly it was very hard to breathe.  "It happened in
the restaurant just with the background music.  I got all dreamy and
unfocused."

"Partly because you've had a long day, and you were already tired.  And
partly because the vampire incident was fresh in your subconscious."

Griffon must have seen the horror written on her face because his hand
tightened around hers.  She closed her eyes and held on to him.

He murmured soothing, reassuring things, and gradually she was able to
fight off the panic.

"Did the vampire's voice sound like your mother's?"

"I don't know."  She gulped.  "But whatever he did worked.  What if he
tries again?"

Griffon pursed his lips.  "Do you remember a movie called The Ipcress
File?  With Michael Carue.

"Yes.  Sometunes I remember the films I've seen better than my real
life."

He nodded his understanding.

"It was about enemy scientists brainwashing our agents," she continued,
"And there was a noise they used as part of the conditioning."

"You recall how the Michael Caine character fought it off?"

"By digging something sharp into his pall--SO the pain distracted
him."

Griffon 'lifted her hand and looked at her fingers.  "Well, if you hear
waves again, dig your nails into your palms.  Hard enough to really
hurt.  The pain will work for you, too'

"Are you sure?  Or are you just telling me that to make me feel
better?"

"Pain is a pretty potent distraction.  But nothing's ever for sure.
Everything you've taken for granted in your life can change in an
instant."

She raised her eyes to his, s'fienfly asking for an explanation, but he
got off the couch and went to the window.

Jessica could feel her pulse pounding.  "Tell me what you're
thinking."

It was several seconds before he answered.  "Maybe you're right.  Maybe
someone was playing vampire the other morning and then they murdered a
man and left him in your car, and it has SOmething to do with me.  With
my books.  Not you or your father.  When you started filling Midnight
Kiss, I dragged you into my world.  All I have to do is care about
someone, and" -- He stopped abruptly.  But he'd already revealed so
much.

"Thank you for ~admitting that," she breathed.  He gazed at her
wearily.  "Don't look so pleased.  I'm a man who can't outrun a em~.
And if you get close to me, it will get you, too."

"That's not true.  No one lives under a curse.  A curse is no more real
than a vampire."

"This isn't getting us anywhere.  I live my life the and that's all
there is to it."

"You're right.  We're not going to agree."

"You've had a pretty bad time tonight.  You should go to bed.  I'll be
here if you need me."

She rose off the couch, coming toward him with slow deliberation that
belied the wild pounding of her heart.  What if he turned away?  Yet
she gave him every chance to tell her she was making a terrible
misjudgment--that whe~ he said he cared, it was only a kind of
brotherly affection.

He didn't say anything.  He only sighed out a long shaky breath as she
stopped a few inches in front of him.

"Jessica."

She knew by the way he said her name that he needed her ~as much as she
needed him.  And she was glad because she wanted to wipe away his hurt,
his fear of intimacy, in the only way that really counted.

She found his lips with hers.  His mouth opened, and when she heard a
low animal sound, she didn't know whether it was hers or his.

Could you bind someone with just a kiss?  Make them yours?  She wanted
that.  Wanted to seal SOme kind of agreement.  Come to an understanding
before he could slip away from her again.

Miraculously it seemed as if he wanted the same thing.  His mouth
devoured hers.  Lips, tongue, teeth.  Sipping, stroking, nipping.

She felt as if she'd left the earth's atmosphere.  Weightless,
light-headed, starved for oxygen.  Starved for Matthew Griffon.

Quickly she grasped his hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom.
Frantic to be closer to him, she yanked her shirt over her head.
When-she looked up, she saw he had done the same thing.  He pulled her
into his arms, and his hands found the clasp of her bra.

The unwanted garment fell to the floor, and he stood looking at her,
caressing her exposed flesh without even touching her.  The sensuality
alone would have been enough to undo her.  But she saw more than that.
He was gazing at her as if she were his heart's desire, the thing he
longed for most in the world yet knew he could never have.

"God you're so perfect.  So beautiful," he murmured.

When he swept her back into his embrace, she arched against him,
telling him wordlessly that she needed more.

His lips teased the edge of her ear.  "Sweetheart, I may be a little
rusty at this, but I think I'm supposed to ask if you have anything we
can use."

For a moment his rough whisper confused her.  "Contraceptives."

She looked into his eyes.  "I--it's been a long time for me, too."

"Thenm"

"But this winter I was dating someone, and I thought I might" -- She
went to her dresser, returning with an unopened package.  "It's just a
starter kit."  "I think it ought to do."

She set the package on the bedside table.  When she turned back to him,
he drew her close, his mouth finding hers, his hands stroking down her
hips to align her body with his.  Feverish sensations burst through her
as she felt the hard ridge behind the fly of his jeans.  Helplessly
caught in the spiraling heat, she surged against his--her body
clamoring for closer contact.

Her hand worked its way between them and she found the snap at his
waist.  As she started to push his jeans down, he took over the job so
that she could re move her panties and jeans.

"Ah, Jessie."

Jessie.  Nobody had ever called her that.  But then nobody had ever
made her feel this tr~nbling need for fulfillment.  She clung to him as
he brought her down to the bed, tenderly, passionately.

With kisses and caresses, they led each other into a dark, sensual
world where every arousing touch, every musky scent, every husky murmur
accelera~the beat of some primitive drum inside her body, inside her
mind.

"Matthew, come to me," she pleaded when the intensity of the pleasure
was more than she could bear.

He turned away, and a fris son of fear shot through her.  Every other
time they'd gotten close, he'd pulled back.  Was he doing that now?

Wh~en she heard him fumbling with the package on the bedside table, she
released the breath that had frozen in her chest.

Then he was over her, looking down into' her face with an aching
mixture of passion and tenderness as he sank into her secret warmth,
joining their bodies into one.  He began to move in the ancient rhythm,
body to body, soul to soul.  Urgent, compelling, building a need
between them that clamored for release.  She arched against him, once,
twice, a dozen times.  Higher, faster, harder.

She cried his name as vibrations of ecstasy resonated through every
nerve in her body.  Seconds later, he was surging into her with his own
shuddering climax.

J~.  ~SICA ~ the exact moment when he felt regret.  When he was sorry
that he'd given in to loving her.  But she didn't allow him to pull
away.  Instead she turned to him and circled him tightly with her
arms.

~"Don't be dishonest with yourself.  Or with me," she whispered.  "That
was as perfect as it can be for two people."

He didn't speak.

"At least you were honest with your body.  Now I guess we'd better take
the next step and talk.  All the clues to why you're a hermit are in
your books, aren't they?"

His jaw tightened.

"I went back to the novel I should have read in the fL'st place.  The
Haunting of Greg Matthews."

She felt a tremor go through his body.  "You read that and you still
wanted me?"

"It really happened the way you wrote it, didn't it?  I mean the
beginning.  When you begged your parents to take you to the carnival.
You were having a wonderful time--until the accident."

"Yes."  The monosyllable was barely audible.

"It wasn't your fault.  You didn't have anything to do with what
happened.  It was just horrible luck that the equipment broke, and your
parents were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Long seconds passed before he answered.  "Why don't you quit while
you're ahead?"

"Because I care about you.  Because I know you care about me.  Don't
lie about that."

"That's right.  I care.  I've been wanting to make love to you for
months.  I've watched Appointment in Taos so many times I can give you
a second-by-second description of the love scene.  I know you weren't
even turned on.  You were embarrassed, and I wanted to change the
abashed look on your fact to ecstasy.  But going to bed with you was a
mistake.  It can't happen again."

He rolled away from her, his feet thumping down onto the floor.  When
he started toward the door, she followed him, heedless of her
nakedness--and his.  "Watching your parents die like that was a
terrible thing to happen to a young, impressionable boy, someone as
bright and as sensitive as you.  It was bound to affect you in
devastating ways."

A laugh rattled in his throat.  "That's a paraphrase of what Grandpa
used to say.  He spent a bundle on therapy trying to fix me ~up.  And
Dr.  Winters was good.  The best.  He made me think I was normal."

"You are.  A normal man, With the normal need to be close to people. To
love and be loved.  Not just watching home movies of a woman you've
never met."

He stood facing the window, his back rigid.  "Yeah.  I may have normal
needs, but getting close to me is a death sentence,"

She waited for him to say more--to tell her about Gena.  He didn't and
she knew she couldn't press him now.  She'd made him open up as much as
she dared tonight.  ~

"Suppose I said that any time you and I have together would be worth
any price I had to pay for it."  He cursed vehemently, turning and
grasping her tightly by the shoulders, holding her at arm's length.
Don't be a fool.  "

"Matthew, I knew before I met you that you were going to be an
extraordinary force in my life," she insisted urgently.  "Your writing
fascinated me and frightened me.  You drew me and made me nervous.  As
a writer and as a man, the person behind the words.  Maybe at first it
was a kind of challenge.--finding out about you when you worked so hard
to stay hidden.  But it got to be more than that pretty quickly."

"Why in the hell did you ever have to write that first letter?"

'"You believe in destiny.  You think you know yours.  I thimk I came
into your life to prove that you were wrong about yourself.  Or maybe
to make everything come out right.  Finally."  She wasn't sure where
the speech had come' from It had sun ply welled up, from the depths of
her soul.  But it felt achingly right.  He stood regarding her as if he
couldn't quite believe what she had dared to say.  Instead of arguimg
anymore, she reached up, grasping his brawny forearms and tugging.  She
felt his muscles quiver.  Then his arms slowly bent, bringing his body
against hers.

When their flesh touched, he let out a shuddering sound that was half
sigh, half sob.  He clasped her' tightly, and they swayed together. Hi~
naked body against hers, two people relating on the most primitive of
levels.

She wanted to tell him she'd fallen in love with him before they'd met.
When they'd only been exchanging heated correspondence about Midnight
Kiss.  She wanted to confess the excuses she'd used to keep the
long-distance dialogue go' rag so that she could learn more about him.
She wanted to say that she'd be there when he needed her.  She knew he
couldn't handle that sort of declaration.

"It's late.  We both need to get some sleep."  Knitting her fingers
with his, she led him across the room to the warmth of her bed.  She
felt the tension ease out of him as he lay beside her.  Finally she
knew by his regular breathing that he was asleep.

Had she won a victory tonight?  Or was he waiting to renew the battle
of wills in the morning?

Chapter Eight

The other side of her bed was empty when Jessica awoke a little after
seven.  For a panicked second she thought Griffon had left the
apartment.  Then she heard the television set in the living room.
Quickly she pulled on a robe, ran a comb through her hair and brushed
her teeth.  She rotund Griffon dressed in his jeans and T-shirt from
the evening before, sitting on the sofa, his hands wrapped around a mug
of coffee,

He must have been listening for Jessica.  When he heard her footsteps
in the haH, his dark gaze zeroed in on her.  For a moment her emotions
were unguarded, and the poignant expression of his face made her heart
contract.

"Hi," she said, her fingers ~curling around the tie of the robe~ In
most situations, she was the one in control.  Not with Griffon.  "I'm,
uh, glad you found my coffee drinkable."

"Barely.  I'm going to have to give you lessons."  He looked as if he
wished he hadn't implied anything even that permanent about their
relationship.

"That's good, because I'm not into one-night stands."

"And I'm a little rusty with relationships."

She nodded, desperate to bring the two parts of Matthew Griffon
together, the part that longed for a normal life and the part that
lived through the books he wrote.  He gestured toward the Morning Sun
spread over the cushions beside him.  "Mayhe we've lucked out."

"In what regard?"

"So far, last night's death hasn't.  hit the papers.  I guess it was
only a big deal tons--and the poor guy who climbed into your car."

"He must have had a mother and father once.  People who loved him.
Nobody has to end up the way he did when they have people who care
about them."

Griffon said nothing.  Instead he gave her a long look before getting
up and disappearing into the kitchen.  When he returned, he was holding
out a second mug of coffee.

Jessica accepts!  it and took a sip.  He'd remembered the way she liked
it.  With milk and sugar.

They both drank in silence until Jessica couldn't stand it any longer.
Carefully she set her mug down on the bookshelf.  "The important
question is, have I

lucked out with you, too?  " she asked.

"I don't think so."

"I want to talk some more about Greg Matthews."  "I don't."

"Oh, go ahead.  Maybe it will be so bad that it will drive me screaming
from the room."

He laughed mirthlessly.

Pretending a lot more composure than she felt, she crossed to the sofa
and sat down within touching distance.  "I didn't exactly have an
idyllic childhood, either.  I know it can't compare with what happened
to you, but it makes' me understand the need to escape into your own
world where things are better."

"You did that'?."  he whispered.

"Not one specific place."  She'd never told anyone about the scenarios
she'd made up when she lay awake in bed wishing she'd been born to a
father who wasn't obsessed with perfection.  Thinking about them had
always made her feel weak and vulnerable, but she knew instinctively
she had more to gain than lose by sharing her private memories.  "I
made up a lot of stories in my head at night.  My own grade-B
productions, I guess you'd call them."

Jessica gave a serf-conscious little laugh.  "Of course I assigned
myself the best parts.  The lady doctor who rides into the Western town
and saves everyone from a terrible typhoid epidemic--and wins their
love and trust.  The woman explorer who discovers the diamond mine. 
The waif who turns out to be the long lost princess.  I guess I was
wishing I could be those characters instead of C. R. Adams's daughter. 
Braving floods, fires and enemy warriors would have been easier."  For
the first time, she saw a glimmer of hope on Matthew's face.

"That bad, huh?"  he whispered.

"It's hard to share childhood secrets.  But if you can't talk about
yourself, talk about Greg," she murmured.  "In the book there's a lot
of description of his fantasy world.  About the evil forces using him
as a channel to get at mankind.  You made it seem so real.  Just like
everything you write."

He gave her a direct look.  "In a way, it was real.  For a little boy
who hated reality and made up an elaborate world where he'd rather
live."

"Oh, Matthew."

"It didn't start off as an evil place.  At first it was like a
refuge--a huge forest where there were only animals, no people.  Then
some of the animals started changing into frightening monsters."  He
grimaced.  "For a couple of years after the carnival, I was on the edge
of getting lost there.  Dr.  Winters dragged me back."

She slid across the space between them, wrapped her arms around him,
and held him close like a mother cradling a hurt child.  "Tell me all
of it.  Everything.  Every bad thing you've ever been afraid to think
or feel."

"You don't want to hear everything.  It's better the way I wrote it in
the books.  Withimirrors and sleight of hand to fool you into thinking
it's not me."

She let that sink in.  "You don't need an artificial barrier between
us.  Tell me what it was really like."

"Like being powerless.  It's much easier making up worlds you can
control--like in my books."  The phone rang, and he stopped abruptly,
as if relieved that he didn't have to reveal any more of his memo
Exasperated at the interruption, Jessica reached for the receiver.

"Hello?"

'~Jessica.  "

It was Dan Cassidy, an assistant state's attorney who happened to be
married to Sabrina Barkicy--the friend who'd suggested the Midnight
Kiss project to her last year.

"yes?"

"I'm calling about the man you found in your car last night."

She gulped and sat up straighter, knowing from the sound of Dan's voice
that he wasn't calling with good news.  Griffon was watching her, his
face tense, and she reached to grip his hand with her free one.  "He
was murdered," her friend said.  "Oh, no."

"They did the autopsy first thing this morning, so I've got the
preliminaries."  Dan paused.  "I see from the police report that you
say you never met him?"

"Dan, I didn't."  She choked around the lump that had formed in her
windpipe.

"What's wrong?"  Griffon asked urgently, moving so that his ear was
near the one she had pressed against the receiver.

"The medical examiner's office has never seen a case like this.  It's
pretty wild.  Apparently he was ex-sanguinated."

"Exsanguinafi~d?"

Beside her Griffon sucked in a startled breath.  Dan continued, "Yeah.
He died from having the blood drained out of.  his body.  Through those
two holes in his neck."

Jessica's knuckles whitened around the receiver as she tried to listen
to the rest of Dan's conversation.

"I'll let you know if there are any new developments, and I might need
to question you again and possibly the rest of the film crew, too."

"Can we keep this out of the papers?"  she asked.

'133

"I don't know.  But I'll see if I can restrict the autopsy report."

When she'd hung up, her whole body was shaking.  She turned frightened
eyes to the man beside her, searching for answers and reassurance.  But
his features were tightly drawn.

' Hold me.  "

Griffon held her until the tremors stopped.

"You said vampires don't exist," she whispered against his chest.

"They only live in the world of fiction and superstition.  But someone
is going to a lot of trouble to make them look real.  And the sooner we
find out who and why, the better."

GRIFFON DROVE Jessica to 43 Light Street for the day's rehearsal.  "Do
you think I can get away without telling the cast about the murder?"
she asked.  "We've got so much to do, and I know that everyone's going
to be upset."

"I'd come clean with them."

"I guess you're right," Jessica admitted.  "But I'd like to get through
one more day before I drop the bombshell.  I'!1 tell them at five.
Maybe they'll be too worn-out to go into hyslerics."

Griffon sighed.  "That might work, but you'd better talk to Reva this
morning, so she'll have an official response ready if we have to make a
statement to the media."

"Okay."

Griffon didn't ask if she wanted him to stay with her.  He just came
along--as if he knew how much she needed him and was willing to let the
rest of their problems go for the time being.

He opened up the rehearsal room while she went on the her office.  When
she heard a man's voice inside, she stopped short.  Then she realiTed
it was Perry.  Who was in there wi~h him?  The police?  She~ peeked
apprehensively through the door and saw he was on the phone.

"Listen, John, if you've got something better I'm sure I ~an get out of
my" -- He broke off abruptly and hung up the receiver when he spotted
$essica.

"Agents!  They'll drive you crazy."  Looking like a little boy who'd
been caught stealing apples, he rushed past her.

She was too relieved to find out he was alone to analyze what he'd been
saying--or to ask if he'd been calling New York on her nickel.

"Perry, wait!"  she called out.

The actor paused.  "Yeah?"

"Let the cast know we'll start fifteen minutes late--about 10:15, and
if you see Reva around, tell her I

need to talk to her right away.  "

"Sure thing."

He must have caught up to her assistant down the hall, because a few
minutes later Reva popped into the office.  "Perry said you were
looking for me?"

"Yes, something's come up that you need to know about."

Matthew filed in after Reva and closed the door.  As he leaned casually
against the wall, Jessica suddenly suspected at least one of the
reasons why he'd come up here with her.  He wanted to see Reva's
reaction when she heard about the murder.

Jessica motioned her assistant into the seat in front of the desk.

"A man was found dead in my car in the parking garage last night," she
began.

"What?"  Reva gasped, her eyes widening.

Trying to keep the emotion out of her voice, Jessica filled the woman
in on the strange death and the possible adverse publicity the incident
might generate.

"The others aren't going to like this," the redhead predicted.  "i
don't like it much myself."  ~rigorously she rubbed at the goose bumps
on her arm.

"No one in his right mind would like it," Jessica murmured.  "So please
keep everything I've told you strictly confidential."

"I'll try.  But you know how rumors buzz around here."  '

JESSICA TOOK a deep breath and called the 'rehearsal meeting to order.
No matter what, she couldn't afford to have this production fall apart.
Not only had she invested everything she'd saved, but she had her
backers' interest to think of, too.  And that included.  Matthew's,

The cast was gathered around the table obviously unaware-that anything
unusual had happened the night before.  Or may he one of them was
acting.  Her appraising gaze swept each individual.  Perry was
finishing up a package of vending machine doughnuts and sipping a soda.
The sight of that breakfast.  combination made Jessica's stomach turn
over. Edward must have had a bad night, too, because he was wearing
dark tinted glasses.  God, she hoped he wasn'-t drinking again.  Diedre
and Heather seemed to have been arguing when she'd come in, but they'd
stopped and were now sitting next to each other as if nothing had
happened.  Perhaps they'd been practicing their mother/daughter
conflict.

Surprisingly, for the next two hours, the reading went smoothly. Edward
and Diedre had learned all their lines, and Perry's interpretation of
the vampire was right on target.  "Only Heather seemed a bit unsure of
herself--but that was to be expected with her age and limited
experience.

~They had reached the last scene when a sudden commotion in the hall
made Diedre stop in mid sen "You can't go in there!"  '

"Who's going to stop me?"

The door burst open and a burly man with short-cropped blond hair and a
bulldog chin plowed into room.  He was followed by a distraught Reva
Kane.

Before Jessica could get out of her seat, Griffon sprang from his chair
in the corner and laid a restraining grasp of the intruder's shoulder.
"Who the hell are you?"  ~'

"I'm Garrison Montgomery, from the Baltimore Sun, and i'm here to find
out what you people know about last night's vampire murder."  He
twisted out of Griffon's grip and took a step back.

There were gasps around the room, and Jessica felt her heart sink.  She
should have taken Matthew's advice and told the cast right away.

"I don't know a damn thing!"  Perry denied quickly.  His gaze shot to
Jessica.  "Do you?"

Thankfully, Matthew took over for her.  "Late last night, a man was
found dead in Jessica's car.  But as far as we know, the murder had
nothing to do with her, anyone in the cast, or the movie," he assured
everybody.

"That's not what they were saying down at the morgue.  They've got a
stiff in the freezer with all the blood drained out of his body, and
somebody thinks it might've been done as a vampire movie publicity
stunt."

Diedre and Edward gasped again.

"Oh, yuck," Heather exclaimed.

Perry leaned forward.  "Hey, a real life vampire right here in Charm
City.  Maybe if they catch him, I can pick up some pointers.,

"Grow up, Dunmore," Diedre admonished.  "This is serious."  Then she
turned to the head of the table.  "You really should have told us about
this."

Jessica accepted the scolding.  "You're right.  But there wasn't much
information to share.  I'm sure the police will find out what actually
happened."  She turned to the reporter.  "That's all I have to say on
the subject so if you'll kindly leave, we can get back to our
rehearsal."

But the man didn't budge.  "I want some background from your vampire
expert--the guy that writes all those horror stories."

"Say the word and I'll toss him," Matthew offered.

For a moment, Jessica's eyes flashed to his.  She didn't doubt he would
do it.  But the relief would duly be temporary.  She remembered how
Montgomery had hounded her friend Erin after she'd been abducted last

Christmas.  She hadn't talked to him, but he'd written a nasty little
piece anyway.  And she was sure he was going to do a vampire article
whether they cooperated or not.

"This is Matthew Griffon," she said, "and if he's willing to answer a
few questions, then I guess I have no objections.  You might as well do
it in here so everyone can find out what's going to be in tomorrow's
paper."

Griffon nodded, but the tight line of his chin showed he wasn't happy
about the interview.  However, the reporter was already pulling up a
chair and digging into his coat pocket for a notebook and pen.

"So when did all this vampire stuff get started?"  he asked.

"It's a persistent legend in human history going back as far as the
ancient Greeks, the early Babylonians, and the Chinese.  Vampires were
used to explain everything from sudden deaths to crop failures.  As
late as 1910, New Englanders were still occasionally digging up graves
and performing rites to make sure family members stayed dead."

As Matthew talked about the vampire's supernatural abilities to turn
into cats, bats, mice and butterflies, Jessica was impressed by how
easily he slipped into the role of professor.  Obviously he'd done
years of research.

The cast, hesitatingly at first, and then with more assertiveness,
pushed him for details on how to spot a vampire and stop one in his
tracks.  Only Reva, who sat with her fingers clenched in her.  lap, and
Heather who seemed almost hypnotized by Matthew's voice, didn't-speak
up.

Montgomery was still searching for an angle for his story.  "So what
makes these vampire books and movies such hits?"

"They appeal to our fear and fascination with the dark side of life.
Death.  Obsession.  Uncontrollable desire."  C-riff on eyes flicked to
Jessica's, then away.

She cleared her throat.  "I think that's enough.  Thank you, Mr.
Griffon."

"Just a word of caution," he added to there-porter.  "Be very careful
what you write.  Don't He this to real life.  Anything that smacks of
the occult can make people panic.  VigilantO groups.  Vampire hunts.
Reputations shattered.  Innocent people could get hurt."

"You're a fine one to talk," Montgomery shot back.  ~ "Your books are
as scary as they come."

"But there's a world of difference between readi~.  g a novel about the
supernatural and see' rag a headline, " Vampire Murder," across-the
front page of the Baltimore paper."

Montgomery got up to leave.  "This isn't the Inquirer, but no matter
how I play it, I'm sure you're going to have a lot more interest as
soon as this one hits the wire."

As he lumbered out, the professional demeanor of the cast cracked like
a dam after a twenty-inch rain-fall.

"The press will jolly well be all over us," Edward.  complained.
"Digging into our lives, dissecting every fault in full public view."
He shuddered.

Diedre reached over and patted his hand.  "I know how you feel."
Jessica recalled Matthew's dossier on Diedre, and the custody battle
she'd endured.

Perry's expression was thoughtful.  Then, as if he'd slipped into
another char acer his mouth turned down into a scowl.  "I don't want
any trouble with the press.  And I don't have to stick around this
two-bit film and watch my career turned into confetti."  He started to
rise, but Griffon pushed him back into his seat.

Jessica jumlxxl in before anyone could escalate the anxiety level.
"None of you has been affected by this yet.  And you won't be.  As long
as the press can't find

USe' '

"All they have to do is check the phone book," Perry snapped.

"Not if we push up the schedule a few days early and all move out to
the Carmichael house for re-hearsaks, Nobody knows we rented the place,
and the town won't be aware that anything's going on unless somebody
happens to spot the fill crew next week.  We,re working entirely on
private property, so it's not like we're stopping traffic in downtown
Hampstead while we film a scene at the cafe," Jessica replied.

There were grumbles around the table about the inconvenience of living
at the estate.

"FII add two hundred dollars a day bonus and take care of all your
living expenses," Griffen offered.

Jessica shot him a startled look.  That offer would cost him an extra
twenty thousand at least.  But he seemed willing to make the
concessions, and the cast grudgingly accepted the move.  Since it was
unlikely they'd get any more work done, she called it quits for the
day.  Everyone was supposed to be out in Hamp-stead by four o'clock the
next day.

Reva hung back after the actors had left.  "I let you down with that
nut of a reporter.  I should have been able to keep him from disrupting
your meeting.  And about yesterday.  I really didn't mean to
eavesdrop," she apologized.

"I don't think anything short of dynamite could have stopped Mr.
Montgomery," Jessica said wryly.

"Well, anyway.  I'd like to apologize by doing some extra work--like
supervising the cleaning of the mansion and making sure the beds have
fresh linens.  And I can have a catering service provide lunch and
dinner for the first few days, and get groceries for breakfast and
snacks."

"That would be wonderful.  Thank you."  Jessica flashed her an
appreciative smile.

~ A rmCT~C twent3~-four hours of making arrangements, Jessica was on
her way out to Hamp-stead again.  It had been raining all day, a
pounding downpour that challenged her windshield wipers to a high-speed
duel and won.  Matthew was supposed to meet her at the site--or at
least that was the message he'd left on her answering machine last
night.

Except for a brief exchange after yesterday's meeting, they hadn't
spoken.  She knew he was avoiding her.  Was he mad at her for
sacrificing him to that reporter?  Or was he wishing they hadn't gotten
so close the night before?  She wanted to hear his reassurances, but
she was afraid to ask.

Montgomery's article had run in the Feature Section, not on the front
page.  A few details of the murder were covered in the first paragraph
but the thrust of the piece was getting an exclusive intonview with the
reclusive Matthew Griffon.  There was even a quote from his publisher
about his last book selling over five million copies and his new
three-book contract for nearly twelve million dollars.  No wonder the
man could afford to pay the cast an incentive bonus.

$essica's car was packed to the limit, and she could feel every bounce
as she headed up the access road to the estate.  The dirt and gravel
driveway was awash in mud, and she had to go slowly.  Crossing the wood
bridge over the river she was shocked at how much the water had risen
in just a few days.  It was mere inches below the wooden 'planks she
was rumbling over--which did nothing for her sense of security.  And
when she finally pulled up in front of the mansion, memories of her
first spooky visit made her stomach clench.  Hands wrapped around the
wheel, she sat staring at the house through the steadily falling rain.
Yesterday, she'd thought of this place as a refuge where they'd be safe
from the prying eyes of the press.  But what if something more sinister
was waiting for them here?  Shaking away the morbid thoughts, she
opened the car door and dashed for the porch.

At least this time the lights were all on, and Reva came bustling out
of the kitchen with a smile on her face.

"Lovely spring weather," Jessica said, shaking off wet droplets from
her hair.

"If it keeps up, you'll have~ to change the garden argument to a mud
fight."

Jessica laughed.  "I'm sure Diedre would love that.  Have you been here
long?"

"Three or four hours.  I've finished up with the cleaning crew.  The
caterers stocked the kitchen and left prepared meals for tonight and
tomorrow in the refrigerator.  Now all we have to do is wait for the
cast to arrive."

"Great."  Jessica strove to sound enthusiastic.  "Tve got to get the
rest of the stuff from my car."

"Tn help you bring it in."

A few minutes later, Reva came back carrying a heavy box Jessica hadn't
been able to lift by herself.

"Here, let me~ help you with that one--it weighs a ton," she offered,
setting down her suitcase.

"No, I'm fine," Reva said as she lowered the crate to the floor.

"You must be in better shape than I am."

"Well, I work out a couple of times a week," she said dismissively.

When they'd finished unloading, Jessica claimed the master bedroom with
its private, if somewhat antiquated, bath as her own.  As she looked
out the window, Matthew's trailer pulled up only a few dozen yards from
the house.  She waited eagerly for him to get out, but he didn't
appear. With a sigh she began to unpack.

By the time she had changed into a dry outfit and hung up her clothes,
she could hear voices downstairs.  Walking to her door, she listened
quietly.  First she detected Perry.  Then Diedre.  As each new arrival
joined the conversation, she waited to hear Griffon's voice.  When he
didn't join the group, she closed her door and sat down heavily on the
bed.  Briefly she thought about going out to the trailer.  ~ Then she
shook her head.  She was damned if she was going to let Matthew see how
insecure she was feeling,

GRIFFON DIDN'T SHOW UP until they were all sitting around the dining
room table, passing plates of lasagna and salads left by the catering
service.  Acknowledging the group with a nod, he slipped into the empty
chair across from Jessica.

"Some woman reporter was pounding on my door at two in the morning,"
Perry complained.

"How did you manage to get rid of her?"  Edward asked dryly.

"I asked her what her blood type was."

Griffon and Vanesco laughed.  Diedre was less.  amused.  "I guess that
will be spread across tomorrow's paper, too.  I wasn't thrilled with
what I read this morning."

"By the way, how is everybody's room?"  Jessica changed the subject.

Diedre shrugged.  "It's not the Ritz, but I've stayed in worse."

"How come she got the big room with the canopy ~ and I got stuck in a
closet with a cot?"  Heather whioed,

"It's all a matter of experience and timing, my dear," the older
actress confided.

"What she means is that she got here on time and you were a half hour
late," Reva translated.

The bickering and jibes grated on Jessica's nerves.  It reminded her
too much of her childhood and the shallow, self-centered people who
thought they could gain something by pretending to be friendly with her
father.  She glanced up and found Matthew studying her.  What was he
thinking?  But his eyes gave nothing away.  Well, she'd had enough of
not knowing where she stood with him.  They'd talk later--when they
didn't have an audience.

After dinner, while she went over the next day's schedule with the
cast, he silently left the table.  The front door opened and closed,
and she knew he was heading back to his trailer.

Most of the cast members had moved into the den and were arguing about
what to watch on the TV.  From the high volume and rock soundtrack, it
seemed the younger generation was~ prevailing

Tension compressed Jessica's chest as she picked up her jacket and
headed toward the trailer.  The rain was still pounding down, and as
she stepped out into the night, a bolt of lightning jagged menacingly
across the sky.  She hoped it wasn't a bad omen.

Chapter Nine

Griffon answered her knock so.  quickly that Jessica wondered if he'd
been watching out the window as she'd crossed the parking area.

"That was fast!"

"I knew it would be you, and I don't want you standing out in the
rain."

Her spirits leapt--just a little.  At least he cared about her welfare.
Yet his guarded expression made her heart start to pound as she stepped
into the familiar room.  If this was going to be a painful
confrontation, she'd get it over with as quickly as possible.  But she
wasn't going to walk away empty-handed.  "You've been avoiding me."

"I said you were perceptive."

"You don't want to finish the discussion Dan's call interrupted."

He folded his hands across his chest.  "That's right."

"Avoidance isn't a very constructive way to deal with problems."

"Where'd you get that--from Oprah?"

"It's something I:ve had to deal with in my own life."  '

"Good for you!"

Unwilling to let him see how shaky she really was, Jessica dropped onto
the sofa.  Griffon propped his hips against the desk.

"Tell me about the rest of the bad things that happened to you,~5

His jaw was rigid, his eyes defiant.  "What gives you the right to ask
me that?"

The words she'd intended to hold back slipped out.  "I love you."
Anxiously she watched his face.  She wasn't sure what she expected.
Certainly not the flash of pain he stmgg!  ed to hide.  "And--and I
think you feel something for me," she whispered.  "But if you tell me
you don't care, I'll get up and walk out of here."  '

Her heart blocked her windpipe.  Seconds ticked by, but he said
nothing.

"Matthew," she said softly, "we developed a pretty intense relationship
before we ever laid eyes on each other.  Then we met, and"

"You were frightened of me."  He bit off the words.

"Yes.  Because you made sure I would be--as a way of keeping me from
getting any closer."

His lips were pressed so tightly that they looked as though they'd
never open again.  But she wasn't going to let him stonewall.  ~"But
when terrible, disturbing things started happening to me, you were
there every time I needed you."

"I'm not going to run out on you when you're in trouble.  Not when
you're filming my book.  " '

"And after we finish filming?  Then are you going to just walk away
from us?"

He didn't answer.

She added more fuel to the fire.  "A man doesn't make love the way you
did the other night unless he cares deeply about his partner."

He looked as if she'd knocked the breath out of him.  "Yes, I care," he
rasped.  "That's why I'm trying to protect you.  So stop pushing me,
dammit!"

"Give me some facts.  Let me be the judge of whether I need
protecting."

His eyes turned flinty.  "Okay, do you want to hear about Matthew
Griffon the murderer?  Or Matthew Griffon the drug addict?"

"

The tension in his body was like heat lightning crackling between them.
"You're not a murderer.  And you're not a drug addict."

"Right.  I've been off drugs for the past six years.

'

And it's eight years since I killed the woman I loved,"?  he flung at
her.

"Stop it !"

"It happened because I needed her too much.  Or that's the way it
started.  With my needs.  We met in college.  In the first semester of
Seventeenth Century English Poetry."  He spoke quickly, the raw anguish
in his voice making her vision blur.  "We were both juniors.  But I was
a year older than Gwen, because I couldn't keep up with my class after
the carnival.  Being with her was like a fantasy come true.  She was
smart and funny and pretty.  Popular.  With lots of friends.  And she
was attracted to me.  I fell head over heels in love with her, needed
to be in love with her.  Grandpa had died, and I was lonely If I hadn't
fixed on her, it would have been one of the other girls in my class ."
'

Jessica scrambled off the sofa and went to him, taking him by the
forearms.  "Do you always east your motives in the worst possible
light? A lot of kids in college are looking for a relationship.  It's
the age when young adults pair up."

He plowed on, as if determined to get it over with now that he'd static
al "Grandpa left me some money, so I didn't have to worry about
supporting her.  We got married before senior year and moved into a
little apartment in Boston near the-university.  Then I started
graduate school in English.  But i'd begun selling some short stories
to the fantasy magazines, and I knew that's what I really wanted to do.
So I decided to drop out of the Ph.D. program."

"Gwen didn't agree?"  Jessica asked.

He shook his head.  "We were on the way back to Boston after spring
break, and We were having one of our fights about my wanting to spend
full-time writing genre fiction when I had a brilliant academic career
ahead of me.  It was all we seemed to talk about.  She though~ anyone
who pandered to the popular market had sold out.  I kept reminding her
that everyone from Shakespeare to Wordsworth to Dickinson had written
for the people.  We" -- He stopped abruptly and gulped in a lungful of
air.  "Anyway I'd hurt my hand wind sailing, so she was driving.  It
was raining pretty hard, and I shouldn't have been distracting her.
She... she skidded on a curve and went down an embankment."

Jessica held him fiercely.  "Matthew, it was an accident!.  Her
accident.  You weren't even in the driver's seat."

He kept talking, as if she hadn't said anything, his voice strangled.
"The car landed on its-side.  She was trying to get out of the car
through the passenger door when the gas tank exploded.  I was thrown
clear.  It seemed like I broke just about every bone in my body.  Plus
there were a lot of internal injuries."

As Jessica tried to imagine that kind of damage, her mind made an
intuitive leap.  "You were in terrible pain.  That's why they had to
put you on drugs."

"Yeah.  I needed to stay doped up.  But not just for the physical
stuff.  I wanted to forget I'd never see G-well again.  And forget the
police interrogation.  They had a hard time believing she'd been
driving, since they found her in the passenger's seat.  Sometimes I
wonder if I made that part up."

"Matthew.  Matthew."  ~;he held him, rocked him, felt him shaking in
her arm~ as he finally lost the bat-tie for emotional control.

"I didn't want to live.  I don't know why I did."

"So you could write Midnight Kiss and all the other wonderful books
that people love."

He snorted.  "I write mass market fiction.  Stuff that will be
forgotten in fifty years."

"No!  You write sensitive, evocative stories that have won a lot of
critical acclaim; But that's not the issue.  The point is you lost
three people you loved very much.  Three people you needed in your
life.  It's natural"

"Oh, please!  You think Midnight Kiss is a wonderfully evocative tale
about a vampire?  Where the hell do you think I learned what it feels
like to want something, to crave something so much that your life
revolves around getting it--and at the same time you know it i.~ go'
rag to kill you?  From being hooked on morphine."

She pressed him closer, as if her slend~ body could shelter him from
all the anguish he'd stored up during the long, lonely years when he'd
withdrawn from the world.  "I didn't know that's what you were writing
about.  I can understand it now.  But you're no different from any
other great writer.  They all use their own lives.  And if you're
worried about translating drugs into art, think about Coleridge or
William Burroughs or Aldous Huxley or the Beatles, for that matter.  In
your case, you've transmuted your pain into something that gives your
reade~ a very powerful experience."  '

The anguished look in his eyes was the one she'd seen when she said she
loved him.

"How do you think I know the soul of the vampire?," he continued.  "The
destroyer.  He has a driving need to get close to people.  He feeds on
them, even though he knows it will end in their death."

"Stop it!  Stop!  You don't feed on.  anyone.  What happened to you at
the carnival and with Owen was bad luck.  Terrihie luck.  You didn't
cause it.  Every kid alive wheedles what he wants from his parents.
Yours were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  And later, with
Owen, you weren't even driving the car.  How can you believe it was
your fault?"

He tried to pull away from her.  She wouldn't let him go as she spoke
urgently, rapidly.  "when !  first read your work, I knew you called to
something deep in my soul.  In a way, that frightened me, because your
work was so ~'.al--so universally true.  So close to the secrets
everybody hides.  Damn you, Matthew Griffon.

You're not as unique as you think.  You have the same fears and the
same need to love and be loved as everyone else.  It's just that every
time you've reached out to people, fate has slappe~ you in the face.
"

She could see he was listening to her.  Really listening.  Knowing that
she might never get another chance, she went on, her voice breaking up
around the edges.  "Matthew, you're a heck of a lot more articulate
than most people, but it wasn't just your writing that drew me.  I had
to know the man who plucked at so many of the chords playing in my
head.  That was' why I came up with the idea of turning one of your
books into a movie.  In a way, it was just an excuse to correspond wRh
you, to meet you.  So stop trying to protect me.  I worked hard to get
you into my life.!"  I'm not going to give you up.  "

He looked lost and helpless, as if the lifeline he'd clung to for so
many years had unraveled.  in his fingers, and there was no way to
weave it back together.  Aching to replace the tattered threads with
something more substantial, she leaned forward and pressed he~ lips
softly to his.  "This time it's going to be different," she
whispered.

He went completely still, and she felt her heart lurch as she sensed
her life hanging in the balance.  Death would be easier than rejection.
But she could say nothing else, do nothing else except offer her love
to him.

Eternity stretched before her as she sensed the struggle inside him. "I
can't..."  he groaned, find the world crumbled away from under her.

In the next moment, his mouth opened against hers and she knew she'd
misunderstood the intent of his words.  He couldn't turn away from her.
Not now, anyway.

"Yes," she whispered, her breath mingling with his.  "Take anything you
want.  And give me what I need."

His arms shook as he scooped her up, cradling her against his length.
He kissed her hungrily, greedily,.  taking and giving, just as she had
asked.  Frantic hands tugged at clothing--his and hers.

They both gasped as hot naked flesh melded together.  Then their hands
began to move over each others' bodies, finding exquisitely sensitive
places.  Ripples of pleasure swept across her skin like fire across a
tinder-dry landscape.

Thankfully the last thing she'd done before she'd left her apartment
was stuff the box of condoms into her purse.  Now she retrieved it on
the way to the bedroom.

"When you stayed here, I lay awake most of the night thinking about
climbing 'into bed with you and taking you into my arms," he whispered
huskily.

"Maybe because I was silently calling you."  Her hand entwined with
his, she climbed onto the wide bunk.

"Jessie.  Jessie."  He came down beside her, cradling the length of her
body against his--kissing her, touching her, loving her with a
heart-stopping mixture of passion and tenderness.  "Tell me this isn't
one of my fantasies."

"It's as real as anything in heaven or earth," she mummred.  But the
fevered words were only a pale echo of what she was feeling~
Emotionally.  Physically.  Her heart swelled with love for Matthew. 
She wanted only to give and give to him.  And the gift came

-back to her as swift, intense pleasure flooding through her being.
With little cries, she twisted against him, aching for their ultimate
joining.

He growled something low and possessive.  Then he was inside her,
moving, demanding, driving her to heights she'd thought were impossible
until the first time they'd made love.

Afterward for golden minutes, she cuddled against him, basking in
satisfaction and the triumph of proving to him once again' that they
belonged together.

He kissed her softly on the temple and held her close.  But she sensed
a tension in him that shouldn't

"Matthew?"

"Jessica, I'm not going to lie to you.  I'm afraid for you."

"I'm not.  Not about us.  We're good together.  Not bad."

"I wish I had your confidence."

She sighed.  "I wish I didn't have to go back to the mansion.  But
tongues are going to wag if I spend the night here."

He laughed softly.  "You're so direct with me.  Do you care about
them?"

"I wouldn't--except that the cast doesn't need an-other distraction
right now."

His arms circled around her.  "Now that you're here, I want you in my
bed a little while longer."

"I think we're going to have to make a trip into town to replace my
starter kit," she murmured, her naked toes playing with the hair on his
shin.

He looked suddenly uncertain.  "Jessica, I'm not used to indulging
myself like this."

"Well, I'll give you permission to be as selfish as you want."

"Oh, yeah?"  He rolled her to her back and kissed her hungrily.

IT WAS MORE than an hour later when Jessica finally said a lingering
good-night to Griffon and closed the door of the camper.  The rain was
coming down in sheets now, making it hard to see more than a few feet
in front of her face.  A~, she dashed across the muddy ground to the
mansion, s:,-e was thankful for the dim glow of the porch light to
guide her.

Rain lashed her through the screen as she maneuvered carefully across
the slippery boards of the porch.  ~ac television set was blaring from
the den, so she knew some of the others were still awake.  What were
her chances of slipping upstairs and into her room without anyone
knowing how long she'd been gone?

She was haft way across the slick floor when the light flicked off,
plunging her into near total darkness.

"Is somebody there?"  she called out, stan 'd~g very still.

The only answer was.  a strange whoop, whoop, whooping sound that sent
a shiver from the base of her spine all the way up into her hair.

"Wh-who's that?"  she called out again.

In the next moment, a terrifying black shape swooped down on her like a
demon out of hell.  She screamed and ducked.

Whoop, whoop, whoop.

It flapped past her face, brushing her neck.  "Help!  Matthew, someone
please help me!"

No one heard above the noise of the television.  In a panic she
stumbled across the porch, slipped and then bumped into a chair that
was only a dark shape in her' path.  With her pulse drumming in her
ears, she reached the wall, holding on tight with one hand and feeling
for the door with the other.

Relief surged through her--until she turned the knob and found it
locked.

Whoop, whoop, whoop.

As if it knew it had her trapped, the creature swoop pd at her again.

Chapter Ten

Lowering her head and moaning softly, Jessica tried to protect her neck
as the wings flapped around her in the darkness.

Her mind was functioning on a very primitive level.  "The-vampire," she
sobbed.  "The vampire."

It had sucked the life from the man in her car.  It had followed them
here, and now it was after her.

Hands clenched into fists, she pounded on the door.  No one came.  She
could barely see what she was doing, and she wasn't sure whether she
could make it back across the slippery expanse of the porch before the
creature got her.

Desperately she twisted this way and that in the darkness, her hands
scrabbled for a defensive weapon.  She felt the back of a sofa, a
shelf, a chair.  Finally her fingers curled around the top of a wicker
plant stand.

With a 03' of relief, she stooped down and snatched at the wooden base,
hurling a clay flowerpot' into the air as she swung the planter up like
a baseball bat.  The pot broke apart as it hit the floor, but Jessica
hardly registered the resounding crash or the rain and wind lashing at
her through the screen.  She was too intent on wielding her newfound
weapon.  Her adrenaline was pumping, and anger had transformed her
terror into defiance.  Her hands wrapped firmly around the shaft of the
stand, she braced her hips against the wall and fiafled with manic
energy, cutting through the air with a high, whistling sound.

The edge of the planter bounced against the board along the top of the
screen and clanged off a light fixture.  But the collisions were only
minor distractions.  Her goal was to destroy the thing that had come
out Of the darkness to assault her.

She gave a shout of triumph as the makeshift bludgeon smacked into
something with a different texture from the architectural elements
she'd been b. qndiy assaulting.  This time she'd struck flesh and
blood.  The creature squealed, and she heard it thump onto the floor.
At the same time she realized that someone else was on the porch.

"Jessica!"

It was Oriffon, and he was running toward her, shouting her name.  He
smacked into the same chair she'd hit, cur seA and tossed the solid
piec~ of furniture out of the way as if it were a sofa cushion.

H~ reached h~, turning her toward him, his hands digging into her
shoulders.  " Jessie, what's wrong?  Are you all right?"

"The vampire," she gasped.  "It came afmr me."  The weapon slipped from
her fingers, and she pointed in the direction where she thought the
creature had fallen.

Griffon switched on a flashlight, playing the beam back and forth
across the floor.  When the light illuminated the' shattered remains of
the flowerpot, he paused:

"That?"

"No!  Something alive--with wings.  Something going 'whoop, whoop,
whoop' and flapping around my head like it was go' rag to bite me on
the neck."

He began to search again.  Jessica gave a strangled gasp when t~ beam
lit a crumpled body that had fallen behind a wicker rocker. The thing
was.  black and evil looking.

"I think it'sa bat."  Griffoa moved the chair out of the way and knelt.
Jessica grasped his forearm, trying to pull him back, as if the
creature were going to spring at him like Dracula from his coffin.

"IC~ ep away from it!"

"It's jast a bat," he repeated, poking the lifeless body with a shard
from the plaater.  Yet she sensed something in his reaction that he
wasn't sharing.

Jessica stared at the grotesque little visage and the membranous wings
that spread lira ply across the floor.  "God, it looks like a gargoyle.
Or worse."

"I know.  They're ugly as sin.  But it was probably as frightened of
you as you were of it.  Bats sleep during the day and go out to feed at
night.  I guess it must have gotten trapped on the porch.  Or maybe the
screen is torn."

"In Midnight Kiss, the vampire came to her as a bat!"

"Jessica, that's fiction," he repeated the assurance he'd given her
several times before.  "Fiction and reality are different."

"You said your books reflected reality.  Only it was disguised."

"That wasn't what I meant," he said tightly.

She wished that she could see his expression better, but the light was
too dim.  "It came after me," she repeated in a low voice.

Griffon closed the distance between them and held her tight.  "It was
in my hair," she whispered, struggling to keep her voice steady.  "And
my face.  And... and... when I tried to get away, the door was

"Which door?"  he asked sharply.

"To the kitchen.  I wasn't sure I could cross the porch again before it
got me."  She glanced toward the corpse on the floor this time seeing
it for what it was--an animal she had killed.  "I--I went after that
poor little thing like a madwoman."

"You have plenty of reasons to be jumpy after what's been happening.
Don't blame yourself."

"Don't blame yourself for what?"  another voice asked.  "What's
happened?"

They turned to find Reva standing in the doorway looking worried.
Behind her- hovered a pale and uncertain Heather Nielson.

"A bat was out here," Chiffon explained matte~-of-factly, pointing
toward the creature.  "It flew into Jessica's hair and frightened her.
She whacked it with a plant stand,"

"Oh, yuck!"  Heather wrinkled her pretty nose as she stole a look at
the dead animal.

Reva gave a little shiver.

"Let's go inside," Griffon steered Jessica toward the door.  Reva fell
back as he advanced.

Feeling weary and helpless, Jessica stood in the middle of the kitchen
with her arms wrapped around her shoulders.  "Didn't anyone h.~ me
banging around out there?"  she asked~

"How could they, with Perry's dumb war movie on TV?"  Heather asked. "I
only heard something when I came in to the kitchen to get a diet soda."
 She turned to Reva.  "I can't find any!  Did you forget to buy it?"

"Diet soda!  That's the last thing I was thinking about," the secretary
muttered.

"How did you know we were out on the porch?"  Griffon questioned.

"I was going to do some work at the kitchen table," Reva answered,
pointing to the pile of papers lying in one corner.  "The light's not
good enough in the library."

"Was the door locked when you came out onto the porch?"  Griffon
asked.

Reva hesitated for a fraction of a second.  "Yes."

"It was unlocked when I left the house," Jessica interjected.

"Well, you've been gone for hours, so anybody could have bolted it,"
her secretary said peevishly.  "We're out in the middle of nowhere, you
know.  You don't want uninvited conapany to wander in."

Griffon nodded and crossed to the kitchen table where he took several
paper napkins from the stack in the holder.  Then he stated opening
cabinets until he found the plastic grocery bags Reva had put away.

"What are you going to do?"  she asked as he retraced his steps toward
the door.

"Wrap up the bat.  I want it checked out by a lab."

Jessica felt her chest constrict.  "For what?  You said--I mean, if
it's really just..."

"Just what?"  Heather interjected, her voice rising to a squeak.

Jessica shook her head, looking at the young actress's pinched
features.  and wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.  All she needed was
to get the cast in a panic.

"Bats can carry rabies," Griffon answered the previous question.  "It
didn't break your skin or anything, did it?"

Jessica ran her hands over her face and arms, and before she could stop
herself, she delicately probed the skin of her neck where she'd seen
the marks on the dead man two nights before.  When she realized
everyone was watching her, she flushed.  "I don't think SO."  '

Heather wrenched her gaze away from Jessica and focused on the napkins
as if Crriffon were holding a fistful of green slime.  "I'm going
home!"

"In this rain?"  Jessica asked, wondering if she'd heard correctly.

'"Yes.  I'm getting out of this damn freak show.  I don't care how much
extra you're willing to pay.  i didn't sign a contract saying " I was
going to stay in a haunted house with 'bats flying around, and I've had
enough.  "

"Too bad I didn't insist on a written agreement," Griffon shot back.

"We're not in a prison, and you're not the warden."

"Are you coming back for the morning rehearsal?"  Reva asked.

"No."  Her face set in a defiant mask, Heather turned on her heels and
started for the stairs.  Reva trailed after her.  Jessica was left
standing in the middle of the kitchen with Griffon.  She looked at him
bleakly.

"Heather can be replaced," he said.  "You'll get your movie made.  One
way or the other."

She couldn't summon the energy to agree.

Griffon must have sensed that if he touched her, she would shatter.
Instead he took the bag and' napkins back outside.  When he didn't
reappear, Jessica assumed he'd taken the little body to the trailer.

Too wrung out-to stand any longer, she sank onto one of the kitchen
chairs.  What was going to go wrong next?  She had just rested her head
in her hands when she heard footsteps on the stair sand forced herself
to sit up straight.  Heather came into the kitchen with a duffel slung
over one shoulder and a hanging bag over the other.  "Lucky I didn't
unpack," she muttered.  "Heather, won't you reconsider?"

"This place is jinxed.  This whole production is jinxed."

"Has something happened to you?"  "Forget it."  "Heather, please."

The young actress shook her head tightly and sailed onto the porch.
Aminute later, a car engine started, then wheels spun in the wet
gravel.

Jessica wanted to weep.  Yet she held back the tears.  It would be
comforting to think the bat on the porch was only bad luck.  More
likely somebody had put it there and locked the door so she'd be
trapped with the creature when she came back from the trailer.  And why
not?  Everything else, including the dead man in her car, looked like
someone was trying to make sure Midnight K/ss was never filmed.

She sighed.  Griffon had been right all along.  She should have been
looking for suspects.  And motives.  It was hard to believe all this
really had anything to do with her father.  But what, then?

Cupping her chin in her hands, she tried to conSider each of the people
involved in the project.  Heather.  Well, she'd just about proven it
wasn't her, unless she was staging this defection for effect.  Or was
that a master stroke in the girl's plot?  To wait until the worst
possible moment to leave?

Jessica's head began to pound.  Did she really think dim little Heather
had somehow sucked all the blood out of a vagrant, dragged him past the
security guard and put him into her car in the Scarlet House garage?
Not unless she'd had help.

As Jessica considered that possibility, her mind leaped to a
conversation she'd only half heard he-cause she had been focused on
other things.  Two days ago when she and Griffon had come down to the
office" Perry had been talking on the phone to his agent.  What had he
said?  Something about a better offer and getting out of?-- His
contract?  Was that why he'd looked so guilty and slammed' down the
phone?

And what if it were true?  That didn't make him a murderer?

She didn't know.  She didn't know how to cope with this by herself. But
there was one thing she was sure of.  She needed to find Griffon. To
share this with him, and most of all to just be with him-.

As she sl~pped out onto the porch again, she braced herself for a black
shape to come flying out of the darkness and claw at her hair.  But
there were no more bats, so she grabbed the raincoat and hat she'd
discarded and headed back through the downpour to the trailer.

The lights were on in the front room.  Through the window she could see
Griffon pacing back and forth across the carpet, his hands clenched
tightly at his sides, his shoulders hunched.

Rushing to the front door, she twisted the lmob and barreled into the
room, throwing her wet coat onto the floor as she ran.  He looked up in
surprise and then exclaimed something unintelligible as she hurled
herself against him.

His arms came up to clasp her, and she pressed her face against his
chest.  "Matthew, I need you."

He pulled off her rain hat and combed his fingers through her hair.  "I
thought you wanted to be alone."

"I was afraid I was going to come apart.  I'm back in control, sort
of."

"I noticed that when we were still in our faxing phase, the way you
won't give in to defeat."

"You're like that, too."

"No, I'm not."

"You're one of the top selling authors in the whole country!  In the
world, for that matter.  You didn't get there by giving up.  You got
there because of your determination to survive--to more than
survive."

He stared at her.  iI never thought about it like that.  "

"Sometimes it takes an outside observer to put things in perspective.
You keep doing that for me."

"Jessie, I'm not going to let you down."

At least until this is over, she thought as she turned and stared out
the window into the darkness.  With a little shiver, she broke away
from him, crossed the room and pulled down the shade.

"You're right," he muttered.  "Somebody could be watching us.  One of
them.  Perry.  Reva.  Diedre.  Edward."

"I realized this evening that Perry's got a motive."  She recounted her
new interpretation of the phone conversation she'd overheard.

"That sounds suggestive," Griffon agreed.  "But he doesn't Strike me as
having the guts to murder someone."  '

"Which one of them does?"

He sighed.  "You've got a point."  "Where's the bat?"  "In the
freezer."

"To use an oft quoted phrase.  Oh, yuck.  Remind me not to eat any of
your TV dinners--or drink your coffee."

"It's sealed up in a plastic carton."

She laughed.  "I think you're going to have to throw the refrigerator
away and start again."

"I'll take that under advisement."

A few minutes ago she'd been close to despair.  But being with Matthew
had helped.  "Mayhe we should both go back to the house and talk to
them..  Mayhe somebody'll slip up and admit something."

"Okay."  He reached for the raincoat he'd left by the door.

They were halfway to the mansion when a pair of headlights cut through
the darkness.

"Now what?"  C,-riff on muttered.

The ear came to a bouncing stop in the parking area.  Jessica gave a
little start of surprise as a familiar figure scrambled out.  It was
Heather.

"What's wrong?"  Jessica shouted above the sound of the rain.

Heather pointed to the narrow lane.  "I tried to drive back to the main
road, but I couldn't get across the damn bridge."

Jessica felt her throat tighten.  "What do you mean?  What's wrong with
the bridge?"

"It's under a couple of feet of water.  At least, that's what it looked
like.  I was going to try to cross anyway, but it's too deep."  She
gazed fearfully at the house and her voice rose to near hysteria.  "So
now we're trapped here.  Nobody is going to get away.  And the vampire
is going to kill us all."

Chapter Eleven

Matthew caught Jessica's startled expression--along with that of the
young woman.  "What vampire?"  he snarled.

Heather's voice was barely above a whisper.  "He warned me not to tell
anyone."

"Who?"

"Him.  You know.  You ... you brought him to life," she accused.  "With
your book."

Matthew advanced on the young woman, his eyes He~ce.  "what the hell
are you talking about?"

Heather took a step back, looking as if she wished she could retract
the bold statement.

"Dammit!  You'd better explain, " he shouted.  The young actress raised
her chin.  "You may think I'm an airhead, but I actually read Midnight
Kiss before I'got the script, to get some insights into the plot and
characters.  After I signed on for the movie, the vampire came to me.
In my bedroom.  Just like in your book."

"You're going to tell us about it."  Jessica grabbed the young girl's
hand and yanked her toward the dilapidated mansion looming in back of
them.

Heather resisted, and Jessica bent, hissing something Matthew couldn't
hear because the blood was roaring in his ears.

"You brought him to life."  That's what she'd flung in his face.  Then
a dead man--with all the blood sucked out of his body--had shown up in
Jessica's car.  In some twisted way, had she assigned the blame to the
right place?

Wanting more information, yet dreading what he was about to hear, he
followed the two women into the house.  Jessica's face was set in a
rigid mask as she switched on the overhead light and gathered up a
fistful of Heather's long hair, pulling her head back.

The illumination wasn't bright, but it exposed the gracefully arching
colum0 of the girl's neck.  Strangely afraid of what he might find
there, Matthew forced himself to look.

Both he and Jessica let out long, shuddering sighs.  The milk-white
skin was flawless.  No puncture marks pierced the young woman's flesh
the way he'd imag "You're lying," Jessica practically snarled.  "The
vampire in the book didn't come to the girl's room to sit and drink
diet soda with her.  He came to sink his teeth into her neck and suck
her blood.  But not yours.  Now suppose you tell us what's really go'
rag on."

"Okay.  He didn't bite me," Heather whispered.  "But he was going to.
That's really why I wanted to leave this godforsaken house.  And now
we're all trapped."

An exclamation from the doorway made them all look up.  Reva was there
again.

"More spying?"  Matthew tossed out, watching her face for some flicker
of admission.  ~

"No.  I'm trying to protect myself," she said, projecting a note of
terror it was hard to fault.  He looked down to see a dagger in her
hand.  It glinted like polished silver, the metal that was supposed to
kill vampires.  "Put that thing away before somebody gets hurt," he
growled.

The secretary sucked in a sharp draft of air and let it out slowly as
she slipped the knife into her belt.

"Protect yourself from what?"  he demanded.  "Don't tell us yoU've had
some sort of nighttime visitor, too."

Her gaze skittered away from his.  "It was last night after hearing
about that homeless man.  I thought it was a dream--because of what
happened to him."

"All right, I want to knOW exactly what you experienced," Matthew
declared.  "Both of you.  And everyone else in the east who might be
hiding some revelation because they think it's too crazy to share."  He
started toward the hall.  "Are Edward and Diedre down here?"

"I think they're in their rooms," Reva replied.  "I'll get them," he
told Jessica.  "You take Heather and Reva to the den, and make sure
Perry's still there.  We're going to have a meeting."

She looked relieved to have him take charge, and he supposed he sounded
as calm and in control as anyone could be under the circumstances.
Maybe if he kept up the act, he would believe it himself.  But he
didn't think so.  Not when he was fighting a nightmare vision that
threatened to fill his mind like thick,

choking smoke.  Over and over he'd told Jessica there were no vampires.
The mantra.  had been as much to convince' himself as her.  But what if
somehow his twisted mind had brought the creatures of his imagination
to life?

Jessica was still watching him, and his stomach knotted so tightly that
he had to clench his fists to keep from grabbing his middle.  Trying to
show nothing on his face, he turned quickly and headed for the
stairs.

As he went up, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the
other, willing his emotions to settle.  He hadn't needed Heather's
accusation.  to make him worry about what was really happening here.

As he climbed, he thought back to some of those long-ago sessions with
Dr.  Winters.  The wise old doctor had gently pushed and prodded James
Matthew Gregory into sharing his deepest-fear--that his thoughts could
affect reality.  He'd been afraid of getting separated from his parents
that day at the carnival.  And he had--permanently," Dr.  Winters had
'helped him understand that the things in your mind couldn't come to
life.  No matter how terrible they were, they only affected you. Nobody
else.

Matthew stopped for a moment at the end of the hall, more or less back
in control.

First he went to summon' Diedre, since' she might want a little time to
get ready.

"Who is it?"  she called out when he knocked on her door.

"Matthew Griffon.  I'm sorry to disturb you, but we're having a meeting
downstairs."

"At this hour?  I've already retired," she said, using her most
imperious stage voice.

"It's important."

"When I agreed to come out here, I didn't know I'd be required to be on
duty so late in the evening."

"It's a safety meeting, and I'd appreciate your cooperation."

There was a long hesitation on the other side of the door during which
he thought she might be dismissing him with her silence.  Then he heard
a rustle of clothing.  A moment later, the barrier swung open.  The
actress was tying the belt of an elegant green stilt dressing gown. The
soft fabric clung to her well-preserved figure.  But Matthew couldn't
stop himself from staring at her face.  When she'd gone to bed, she
must have taken off the carefully applied makeup she'd been wearing
earlier, and she looked as if she'd aged ten years since dinner.

"Everybody is ~ssembling in the den," he said with stiff formality,
wishing he hadn't had to invade her privacy.

"All right.  I'll be down in a few minutes."

He turned away and headed for Vanesco's quarters at the other end of
the hall.  But although he rapped loudly, there was no answer.

"Edward?"  he called out.  "Are you all right?"  Still nothing.  Good
Lord, what else had happened while he'd kept Jessica in his bed this
evening?  Twisting the knob, he found that the door was locked.

Matthew rammed his shoulder against the barrier and felt the old lock
give a little.  He tried again, harder, and the antiquated mechanism
gave with a groan.  Inside, the lights were turned low, and it took a
moment to get his bearing.  Chair.  Dresser.  Closet.  Bed.  Edward was
sprawled lira ply on top of the spread, fully clothed except for his
shoes.  His head lolled to one side, and one hand dangled toward the
floor.  Had the vampire gotten him, too?

Matthew made it to the bedside in three or four rapid strides.  The
first thing he noted was the smell of whiskey.  Then he saw the empty
bottle and over turned glass lying on the carpet.

"Edward."

The only answer from the former matinee idol' was a deep snore.  He lay
with his mouth open, his jaw slack and his eyes closed.

"Wake up."  Roughly, Matthew shook the limp body, but the effect was
negligible.  Damn.  "

Well, now he knew why the two senior members of the cast had
disappeared so early.  Diedre couldn't face the strain of an evening
with the rest of the merry band.  Neither could Edward.  In fact, he
couldn't even face an evening with himself.

Matthew kicked the empty bottle into the corner, venting some of the
frustration that had been building inside him.  Then, with a sigh, he
turned and headed back downstairs.

Ten minutes later, everyone except Vanesco was dutifully present and
accounted for in the den.  With an absolutely straight face, Matthew
explained that he'd found the actor soundly asleep and hadn't wanted to
wake him.

"Drunk, probably."  Perry tossed the words into the quizzical silence.
"There have been rumors about the old guy for years."

"Mayhe so.  But he's also been under a lot of pressure," Diedre put
in.

"You look like you have, too," the younger man shot back.

Her papery skin lost even more of its color.

"All right."  Jessica's voice cut through the thickening atmosphere in
the room like a scalpel.  "We're not here to insult each other.  We're
here to exchange information."

"What if some of us aren't 'm~rested in participating?"  Perry asked.

"I suggest you get interested," Matthew-interjected "Because, for
starters, whether you like it or not, we're going to have to get along
with each other for the next few days.  The river's flooded. Apparently
it's over the bridge."

Perry stood, his challenging gaze fixed on Matthew.  "I'm going to call
the authorities.  There must be some other way to get us out of here.
Byhelicopter, or boat, for example."

Before anyone could object, he stalked out of the room.  However, he
was back before they'd had a chance to resume the meeting.  "The phone
is dead."

JESSICA WATCHED the room empty, as the cast members dispersed to check
the various other extensions in the house.  She turned to Matthew,
catching hold of his arm.  He slipped his arm around her wast.  They
stood silently and still until the others had disappeared down the
hall.

"I don't like this," she whispered.

"The river's damn bad luck.  The phones..."  His voice trailed off.
Apparently he wasn't up to false re "They were okay this afternoon.  I
know, because I called Dan to see if there were any further
developments in the murder case."

"Were there?"  "No."

"What time was it?"  he asked.  "Before you came in to dinner."

"Did you get any calls after that?"

"No.  But I only gave the number to Dan."  "Right."

"What if someone's cut the lines?"  Jessica's voice quavered.

"We've still got the cellular units."

"Not mine.  I've got a rental car."  She tried to imitate the strong,
steady tone of his voice.  "Would you check the one in the camper?"

Griffon squeezed her hand reassuringly.  "Sure."  The feeling of
reassurance vanished when he disappeared into the ram, and a prickling
sensation clawed at the back of Jessica's neck as she imagined a
supernatural figure materializing out of the darkness.  Then she
changed the image to a shoddy trick shot in a cheap horror flick.  They
weren't being stalked by a vampire.  Some living, breathing person was
stalking them; And she could prove it.  Instead of standing and waiting
for Griffon at the back door, she turned and rushed up the stairs to
her room.  Slamming the door she rummaged in' her suitcase.  For a
moment she thought the thing she sought had been stolen, and she cursed
softly under her breath.  But she kept on looking.  Finally her fingers
encountered silky fabric tucked into one of the compartments.  Slipping
it into her pocket, she returned to the kitchen

Griffon was back quickly, his face grim.  "My phone's inoperable," he
reported.  "I can't figure out why it's not working.  It's a new model
I had installed before leaving Maine."

"How long has it been out of order?"  Jessica asked, unconsciously
lowering her voice as if the walls had ears.

"I haven't used it since yesterday."

"Was the camper locked?"

"Of course.  Except when I was inside."

The clipped conversation was interrupted as Perry poked his head into
the kitchen.  "What the hell are you whispering about behind our
backs?"  he growled, his voice giving away the panic he'd managed to
keep off his face.

"Sorry," Jessica apologized.  "Matthew's just come back from checking
the telephone in his camper."

"And?"

"It's out of order, too."

"How inconvenient."  He wheeled and disappeared down the hall.

Jessica and Matthew followed him into the den where they all took
seats.  Jessica peered around at the circle of faces.  Perry looked
hostile, the women anxious.

"The phone in the camper is out of order," Mat thew told the group.
"What about the ones in here?"

"What do you think?"  Reva challenged.  "I'm not clairvoyant."

"Well, the line to the house is dead," she retorted.

"Maybe it was shorted by all the rain," Diedre suggested.

"Or he may have done it," Heather hedged, "Be cause now he has us at
his mercy."

"He?"  the older actress asked.  "The vampire," Heather clarified.
Perry cursed.  Diedre gasped.

Reva looked almost triumphant.

Jessica's gaze slid to Griffon.  He was leaning back comfortably in one
of the armchairs.  But she could see the tension etched around his eyes
and mouth.  She wanted to go to him, cling to him, as much for her own
comfort as his.  Instead she faced the group.

"Let's not get all wound up with the supernatural."

"Do you have a better suggestion?"  Perry asked.

"Bear with me for a minute," she said.  "How many of you have read

Surprisingly, everyone in the room raised a hand.  Well, at least they
were conscientious.  Or perhaps they'd each been looking for insights
into heir characters-an edge that would make their part the most
memorable in the film.

"We all know the book is about a vampire who comes to women in the
night, playing on their longings for intimacy in order to--to feed."
She paused and looked at Griffon.  He was sitting as still as a statue.
"Heather and Reva have reported nighttime visitations similar to those
described in the book.  And it happened to me, too.  Has anyone else
had a comparable experience?"

For a moment there was shocked silence.  Then Diedre's fingers
flickered, and her hand went halfway' up.

-' 179

Jessica glanced from her to the other women.  They were all looking at
each other apprehensively and with newly appraising eyes.

"Well, my visit wasn't from a real vampire," Jessica said.  "It was
someone pretending to be one."

"How do you know?"  Perry challenged.

"Let me set the scene first.  I'd come out to inspect the mansion--to
see if it was suitable for the movie."  Jessica glanced at Griffon
again.  He looked wary, as if be were wondering just how far she was
go' rag to go.  She tried to send him a reassuring look.  "I'd arranged
to meet Riohie out here, but I didn't know Griffon would be coming,
too.  After Riohie, uh, left, Griffon and I were caught in a storm and
ended up in his camper.  It was raining too hard to get back to my car,
so I spent the night there," she went on quickly, aware that everyone
was watching the two of them with new interest.

"Griffon lent me his bedroom and Slept in the living room."

Perry snorled.  "Oh, yeah, like tonight when you went out there?"

She shot him an angry look but she didn't dignify his comment with an
explanation.

Griffon's features were frozen into an unreadable mask.

"I woke up in the morning to see wings fluttering against the window.
And a soft, seductive voice calling me to destruction," Jessica
continued.  "It was like a thread was pulling me forward, reeling me
in."

"Yes!"  Heather breathed.

"Can any of the rest of you add something to that general description?"
Jessica asked.

"I was going to open the window.  Then I came back to my senses,"
Diedre murmured.

Jessica's frank admission had broken the ice.  All at once, the other
women wanted to share an experience that they'd instinctively kept
hidden.

"It was like being seduced by a lover," Diedre said.  "He made me feel
young and desirable."

"I kept looking at my neck to make sure he hadn't bitten me," Heather
whispered.

Jessica gave each member of the group time to speak her piece.  "None
of the men were visited?"  she clarified.

Griffon shook his head.

"Not me," Perry snapped.  "And if it had happened to Edward, he
probably wouldn't remember."

Jessica asked the women for dates and times.  The visits had all
occurred.  ". in the past week and a half.

"He's come after all of us," Heather whispered.  "Since we signed on
for the movie."

"Someone's been playing with our minds," Jessica agreed.  "But not a'
vampire.  When Griffon and I talked about it, we figured out that
whoever it was had been using standard hypnotic induction techniques on
me."  '

"Can you prove it?"  Perry asked.

"How can you prove something like that?  But there's more concrete
evidence it wasn't a supernatural visitation.  After it happened to me,
Matthew and I went out to have a look.  The storm had washed the ground
clean, bat there were tracks leading toward the trailer and then back
into the woods."

"Footprints?"  Diedre asked hopefully.

"Nothing SO prosaic.  They were prints that looked like a goat walking
on two legs.  ~racks designed to fool us into thinking it wasn't a
person.  But it was, of course.  No matter what the perpetrator wanted
us to think."

"How do you know it was a person?"  Diedre challenged.

"Because whoever was at the camper that morning dropped this," Jessica
said as she whipped the black scarf out of her pocket and waved it'in
the air for everyone to see.

Heather snatched the rectangle away and ran the silky fabric through
her fingers.  "I wish this proved something," she said.

"It does."

"No.  It only proves that someone or something was there.  Suppose it
was a vampire.  He couldn't go around naked.  He'd wear clothes just
like everyone else.  And he could have brought the scarf to wrap around
your neck when he was finished.  To hide the bites."

Chapter Twelve

Jessica stared at her, feeling reality shift and twist.  She and
Griffon had both been so sure what the black silk meant.  But Heather
had deftly supplied a different interpretation.

"Well, this is just great."  Perry muttered.  "I pose the next thing
we're going to find out is that the bat that attacked Jessica on the
porch was a vampire bat ."  '

"It was a.vampire bat!"  Heather said.

Jessica turned to stare at her.  "Stop putting the worst possible slant
on everything that happens."

The young woman flushed.  "I--I'm sorry.  I didn't want to say anything
before.  But I knew what it was as soon as I saw it.  That's when I
decided to get out of here."  '

"You're asking us to believe you're an expert on bats?"  Perry
snorted.

She glared at him.  "We studied them in school last year.  Vampire bats
are very distinctive looking.  They live in South and Central America,
and they're bigger ~ than the ones around here.  They have that
U-shaped pad at the end of their muzzle and those long legs so they can
climb up on animals and suck their blood.  Gross{"

"You only got a glimpse of it," Jessica objected.  "You could be
wrong."  She slid her gaze to Oriffon, hoping he'd back her up.

"She's right," he said quietly.  "I thought it might be, so I went back
to the trailer and looked it up in a book."

"Why didn't you tell me?"  " Jessica de~nanded.

"I didn't s~ any point in supplying something else to worry about."

"If it's from South America, how did it get on the porch?"  Diedre
wondered aloud.

"Someone deliberately brought it here, knowing it was going to frighten
one of us.  Or maybe they specifically went after me," Jessica answered
as she peered at the circle of faces around her.  They all registered
varying degrees of shock, disgust and skepticism.  But then, they were
a group of actors, she reminded herself.

"So let me clarify the situation," Reva said.  "We're trapped in this
house for nobody knows how long, with either a vampire or a nut."

"It's not a vampire."  Griffon's hard-edged voice rose above the
general babble that had sprung up.  "Notice Jessica was visited at my
trailer, not her high-rise apartment.  So the perpetrator only had to
walk up to the window."

"At my house, too," Diedre said.  "I live in a ranch ."  '

Griffon turned to Heather.  "And you?"

"My bedroom used to be the recreation room of our house.  It's in the
basement, with a sliding glass door to the outside."

"Another easy approach," Griffou said.

"But what about me?"  Reva argued.  "I'm in a high rise.  On the fourth
floor."

"Do you have a balcony?"  Griffon asked.  "Is it close to your
neighbors?"

Reva reluctantly nodded.

"That's one way to do it.  Or if someone had a key, they could have
gotten inside.  Was your door bolted?"

"It was after I was visited," she snapped.  "And I'd still like to hear
your explanation of the footprints you saw.  You said they looked like
goat feet.  Didn't the monsters in The Haunting of Greg Matthews have
cloven hooves?"

Griffon looked startled.  "You read it?"

"I started with Midnight Kiss.  When I finished with that one, I wanted
to know what Jessica was really getting into, so I perused all your
stuff.  You've got one sick imagination.  It's like you're courting the
forces of evil, inviting them into your life.  If anyone was going to
attract vampires or werewolves or devils with strange footprints, it
would be you, buddy."

Jessica saw Griffon's face go pale.  "That's a ridiculous accusation,"
she told her secretary.  "We've got enough problems without hearing
nonsense like that."  Yet even as she spoke, she saw the rest of the
group was eyeing Griffon with new suspicion.

"Does anyone have a gun?"  Perry asked.

"Don't be an ass.  Guns won't do you any good against vampires,"
~Heather mocked him.  "Unless you brought along a supply of silver
bullets."

"Well, there's always garlic," Diedre said.

Jessica regarded the tense faces, knowing she was seeing these people
fall apart under pressure.  "I'm beginning to get a good idea of how
mass hysleria starts," she commented.  "Or maybe mass paranoia.  I
think we're all so strung out and exhausted that we're getting on each
other's nerves.  Why don't we get a good night's sleep and meet again
in the morning?  For all we know, the river could be down by then, and
we can leave."

"Permanently," Perry growled.  "If you think I'm going to keep working
on this project, you're insane."

He'd pushed one of her buttons.  "That's what you wanted all along,
isn't it?  Are you the one terrifying the cast and crew so you can
close the production down?"  The moment the words were out of her
mouth, she wished she could call them back.

Perry glared at her.  Everyone else waited for an explanation.

"I'm sorry.  I know you want out of your' contract And I guess I'm just
as anxious as everyone else to find a scapegoat," she mumbled.

'"We're all on edge," Diedre agreed.  "You're right.  We should call it
a night."

"I'm not sleeping alone in this house," Heather wailed.  "It's not
safe."

Perry gave her a sardonic look.  "You've been trying to get me into bed
with you since this production began.  Now you've finally got an
excuse."

"Stop it!"  Jessica flared.  "Don't you realize that cutting each other
down isn't going to help?  We can move some furniture around and Sleep
dormitory l style.  The men together and the women."

"Oh, no, we can't.  I want Mr.  Griffon out of the house tonight and
back in his trailer," Reva said.  "And the door locked behind him."

Jessica could hardly believe what she'd heard.  "What?"

"I'm not going to sleep a wink if I know he's under the same roof with
me," she insisted.

Matthew stood, his features grim as he started for the door.  "That
suits me just fine."

Jessica crossed to him and grabbed his arm.  "Don't leave yet."  Her
fingers dug into his flesh.  When she realized how tightly she was
holding him, she eased up a 'little.

He gave her a long look, waiting.

"Perry, you can sleep in Edward's room if you want," she said.  "Or in
your own.  But I'd like you to help us move some beds around for the
others.  I think Diedre's room is the biggest.  She and Reva and

Heather can sleep there.  Is that satisfactory?  " v They agreed with
varying levels of enthusiasm.  " Where does that leave you?  " Reva
asked Jessica.

"If Matthew's going to the camper, so am I. He and I have to talk."

Perry leered at them "I've been around the block a few times, and I
know damn well when a man and a woman are doing a lot more than
talking.  Did his sexy vampire turn you on?  Was that why you wanted
him down here for the filming?"

Heat flooded Jessica's face, but she knew any answer she gave would
make things worse.

Hands balled into fists, Griffon started toward the young actor.  "I'm
tired of your smutty comments.  You're quite the man of experience,
aren't you?  Are you speaking as the pot head who was busted for
possession?  Or the gambrmg freak who needs money to pay off his
Atlantic City debts?"  he asked icily.

Perry blanched but recovered enough to retort, "What did you do, have
me checked out?  And everybody else, too?"  He turned to the group.
"How do you like that folks?  Mr.  Griffon thinks he's Sherlock
Holmes."

"I like to know what kind of scum I'm dealing with," Griffon shot
back.

'"Is that what you think of us?"  Diedre asked.

Griffon turned to her.  "I'm sorry.  That didn't come out quite right.
I wasn't talking about you."

"Now I really don't want you in the house," Reva muttered.

"You never did.  Probably because" -- This time he caught himself and
stopped.

"Because what?"  Reva challenged.

Forget it.  I'm letting my mouth get ahead of my brain.  "

Jessica's assistani stood with her hands on her hips.  "I'd like to
hear what you have to say."

"I think we've had enough for tonight," Jessica interjected.  "We all
passed the point of self-control a long time ago.  Let's go to
sleep."

Reva gave her a mocking smile.  "Oh, I'm sure it's going to be quite a
restful night."

After making sure that everyone got settled, Jessica went to her own
room to grab a toothbrush.  Then she shrugged and stuffed everything
she'd unpacked back into her suitcase.  For all she knew, she'd find
herself still locked out of the house in the morning.

As she stepped out of her room, she saw Griffon coming down the hall,
his shoulders slumped.  When he saw her, he straightened.

Her emotions were in so much turmoil that she blurted the question that
had been deviling her.  "Why didn't you tell me that the cloven hooves
were in Greg Matthews?"  she asked.

"You read the book!"

"I skimmed some parts."  She was having trouble keeping her voice from
rising.

"And used the material to drag information out of me."  '

She could feel the muscles of her face.  freezing into place as they
stood looking at each other.  Griffon's expression was similar.  From
somewhere down the hallway, she heard a door open.  Then Reva was
gliding toward them looking entirely too pleased to hear them at
odds.

"If you're leaving, you'd better do it so I can lock up," she said to
Jessica.

"Mayhe you should stay here," Griffon said.  "No."

She wasn't sure what he would have said if Reva hadn't been watching
them with such avid interest.  As if the matter were settled, she took
his arm.  When she her ted her suitcase awkwardly in her other hand, he
reached over and took it from her.

The three Of them descended the steps.

"Good luck," Jessica said to her assist am as they reached the back
door.

Reva nodded.  "You, too."  She cleared her throat.  "I'm sorry I flew
off the handle at the meeting.  It was the tension, you know."

"We're all under a lot of strain," Jessica replied.

Reva looked abashed.  "I don't ... uh ... have to lock the door."

"Go ahead and do it," Griffon insisted.  "It's safer."

"What time do you want to come back?"

Jessica considered the question.  "Maybe the best thing for
everyone's'nerves is to try to maintain a normal schedule.  What if we
come over for breakfast at eight-thirty?  Then we can get to work at
nine-thirty."

"That soundS okay--if you can get everyone to cooperate."

"If you and Griffon back me up."

"You can count on me."

Reva looked so contrite that Jessica held out her arms.  The redhead
c~ac into them, and they embraced.

"I'm sorry all this is happening to you," Reva whispered.  "And that
I'm 'not helping," she added after a little pause.

Jessica 'gave her a tighter squeeze.  "It'll be all right."

Griffon didn't speak again until they were well away from the house.
"Reva should get an Oscar for that performance."

"Why?"

"She wants to make you think she's on your side."  "You don't believe
that?"

"I've caught the looks she gives you when she thinks nobody's
watching."

"What kind of looks?"  "Malicious ."  -, Griffon clarified.  "She hates
you."

"I don't believe that.  She's just under a lot of tension."

"Instead of making excuses for one of our happy little crew, you'd
better be suspicious of everyone."

"Even you?"

"Especially me.  I'm the dark prince who brings the forces of evil into
this world."

She stopped and faced him.  "Is that what's been eating at you?
Heather's and Reva's half-baked comments?"

"You asked the question."

"I'm exhausted.  And worried.  Cut me some slack."

He unlocked the door and stepped aside so she could enter the
trailer.

After tossing her bag onto the rag, Jessica flopped onto the couch.
"God, what a zoo.  Every time I thought we'd settled an issue, someone
would pop up with another frightening possibility.  What do you think
about Reva being in a high rise?"

"You've already heard what I think about Reva.  You jUSt.  don't want
to listen."

Jessica was so wound up she couldn't stop talking.  "You know, I kept
feeling like I'd heard this before.  Now I remember where.  Did you see
The Invasion of the Body Snatchers?  Not the one with Donald
Sutherland.  The first version with a group of people trapped in a
small town.  Starring Dana Winters and Kevin McCarthy.  Remember, they
gave him a cameo in the remake?  Anyway, the people know that if they
go to sleep, the aliens will take over their bodies.  So they have to
stay awake.  And they get more and more irrational.  Maybe if we live
through this, we can use it for a movie plot."  She stopped babbling
and laughed hollowly.  "Perry was the worst, I guess.  But I'm not sure
how to deal with Heather."

"We're not in any shape to make decisions tonight.  We both need some
rest.  You can have the bedroom, I'll take the couch," he said
wearily.

She stared up at him.  "I don't think anyone's coming out here to check
on us.  Besides, they're probably as astute as Perry, anyway."

His face was etched in granite.  "What I think is that our relationship
has been getting too intense too fast."

His words were like a blow to the solar plexus.  She gasped and folded
in the middle.  Yet, even as she sat there clutching her fists to her
abdomen, she knew what was really happening.

"Stop it," she managed to say.

He turned away.

She pictured herself going to him, slipping her arms around his waist
the way she'd done before, making him realize he didn't have to protect
her by pushing her away.

But in her present exhausted state, she sun ply couldn't cope with
another one of his rebuffs.  She was the one who'd been breathing life
into this relationship.  Maybe she'd been mzicing a stupid mistake all
along.

Slowly she got up to retrieve her luggage.  "Matthew?"  She wasn't sure
whether she'd spoken aloud or whether her mind whispered him name.  She
only knew he didn't turn around and that the ten

As she hoisted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, the world seemed
to sway around her, and she had to reach out and steady herself against
the wall.  When the moment of dizziness passed, she started down the
hall to the bedroom where they'd made love only hours before.

Her vision blurred.  By the time she closed the door, kicked off her
shoes and threw herself onto the bed, tears were streaming down her
cheeks.  She wanted to run down the hall and scream at him.  She wanted
to tell him that part of his problem was that he'd married the wrong
woman--that he wouldn't have been arguing with C-well if she'd been
proud of his talent as a writer of popular fiction and not tried to
push him into an academic career that was all wrong for him.  But what
good would any of that do?  He'd only see it as an attack on his dead
wife.

Instead she rolled onto her back and lay weeping quietly in the
darkness.

SH~ M~ST HAV~ dozed off, because there was no transition from her
feeling of impotent misery to the sound of waves gently breaking
against a familiar shore.  It was like the tape from her childhood.
Like the nlglit the vampire had visited.

Matthew had told her she was supposed to do something if she heard the
waves, but she couldn't remember what.  Instead she smiled, letting the
ebb and t3ow rock her as she snuggled deeper under the covers.

Soon the soothing sound was overlaid by a seductive whisper.  At first
she couldn't make out the words, only a low buzz that brought her a
feeling of great peace.  Then the buzz resolved itself into a voice
coming from somewhere above her head.

"$essiea, Jessica, it's time.  Let me into your mind, sweet."

She knew instantly who was calling her.  "No," she.  murmured
thickly.

"Don't fight me, Jessica.  It will be much easier for you if you just
let yourself go.  Like falling off the side of your father's swimming
pool and into the cool, clear water."

"My father?"  She tried to open her eyes.  Somehow, she couldn't make
the lids work properly.  Lying motionless in bed, she' strained her
ears and caught the sound of wings fluttering in the air.  Not outside
the window.  There was another presence in the darkened room with her.
Something wicked.

Her hands clenched and unclenched.  She was sup posed to dig her nails'
Jessica I'm here.  "

The wispy thought about her nails merged into the mist that wrapped her
mind.

"Go away.  Leave me alone, for God's sake," she whispered, yet she
couldn't put any force behind her words.

The vampire laughed, high and shrill.  "You got away from me the last
time you slept alone in Matthew Griffon's bed.  But this time is
different.  This time you don't have what it takes to fight me, do
you?"

She tried to push herself up, to wake.  But it was no good; she could
sense her feeble resistance crumbling.

The-laugh came again, more sardonic, more assured.  "Griffon wants to
end the relationship.  You've only made a fool of yourself letting him
enjoy your body."

Jessica squeev.  ed her eyes shut, as if that could block.  out the
voice buzzing like a saw, cutting through the cells of her brain:

"Griffon is self-centered and arrogant.  He's evil.  He's the cause of
all your problems.  If you hadn't decided to film his cursed book, you
wouldn't he trapped here with a bunch of sniveling fools."

You're lying, her mind screamed as she tried to cringe away from the
hateful words.

Her breath was coming in jagged little pants as she writhed and twisted
on the tangled bedclothes, her hands clenching and unclenching.

"Matthew Griffon played with your head.  Matthew Griffon used you.
Matthew Griffon is evil," the vampire continued.  "Think of all the
heartache and terror he's unleashed on mankind with his wicked books. I
wouldn't be here now, talking to you if he hadn't invented me."

The vampire seemed to draw closer.  "But you can stop him.  You can
keep him from hurting anyone else.  He's right down the hall--in the
living room, Go out there and put an end to his miserable life," the
voice in her head commanded.

Jessiea's whole body jerked as she recoiled from the order.  "No!"  she
screamed.  At least it sounded-like a scream as it echoed inside her
head.

"Killing him is so easy.  He's made it easy.  Almost as if that's what
he wants you to do, because he knows how wicked he is.  There's a gun
in the bottom left hand drawer of his desk.  It's loaded.  All you have
to do is aim and fire."

Jessica shook her head violently and dug her fingers into the tangled
bedclothes.  But her body was out of her control.  Horrified, as if she
were in the corner of the room watching some other woman, she saw
herself get off the bed and stand for a moment swaying in the
darkness.

"Good.  Good.  Now cross the room and start down the hall."  To
Matthew.  Yes, she wanted to go to him.

On legs that felt like blocks of wood she moved down the hall toward
the front of the camper.  Toward Matthew.

There was a dim light shining over the kitchen sink, and her throat
worked convulsively when she saw him lying on the sofa, his knees drawn
up.  against his chest.

"Matthew.  Oh God, Matthew, wake up.  Don't let me do this to you." She
felt herself calling him, but she heard no sound except the padding of
her bare feet as she crossed the carpet.  When she reached the desk,
she knelt.

"In the bottom drawer.  Get the gun."  The voice was low but
commanding.  "Use it on him!"

Jessica was still fighting, still struggling for control.  With
trembling fingers she reached into the drawer and brought out a
revolver.  It felt.  heavy and foreign in her hand.  She didn't want to
be holding it.  Still, with a lit He moan, she turned and pointed the
weapon at Matthew.

Chapter Thirteen

The hand that held the gun shook.

"That's right, sweet," the relentless voice said.  "Now squeeze the
trigger.  You know he's a bastard.  He's lied to you, and hurt you.
When he's dead, all your troubles will be over.  And his; too."

Even as Jessica struggled to bring her actions under her own control,
she felt the muscles of her free hand contract, felt her nails dig
painfully into her flesh.  The sudden sting sent a shudder through her
body--and a jolt to her brain.

"No!  No, I won't.  Matthew, wake up.  Get out of the way."  This time
she heard her agonized.  protest echo in the room.

"Do it!  Damn you, do it."

As the vamp he shrill voice cried out, the order, Griffon moved like a
wild animal suddenly released from a cage, rolling off the couch and
onto the floor, out of Jessica's line of sight.

"Do it!  What's wrong with you, you bitch?  Do it?"  The voice and tone
of the command had changed from smooth and persuasive to shrill and
angry.

Utterly confused, Jessica stood in the middle of the carpet.  But her
mind was focused on one task now.  A shuddering sigh rattled in her
chest as she forced the hand with the gun to open.  The weapon dangled
and swayed dangerously in her grasp.

As if by magic, Griffon was beside her, lifting the weapon out of her
hand before she dropped it on.  the floor where it could go off by
accident.

She remained unmoving, disoriented, in the center of the room.  If
Matthew didn't tell her what to do, she might stand there forever. "The
vam-vamp he she stammered weakly.

He cradled his arm around her Shoulder.  His touch released her, and
she began to shake all over, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

"Come on," Griffon urged as he steered her toward the sofa.  The world
was still disjointed, so that she had no memory of crossing the room.
The next thing she knew, she was sitting down and he was he, side her.
She turned toward him, wedging her hand against his chest, feeling the
steady beat of his heart.  She didn't think she'd fired the gun, but
she needed to know that he was safe and unharmed--that she hadn't done
the unthinkable when the gun was in her hand.

"Are you all right?"  "Are you?"  "Yes," she lied.

She laid her head against his shoulder, as her hands stroked over his
strong arms and across the broad expanse of his back.

The vampire's words came back, and her nails into his biceps.  "Oh,
Matthew, it knew we had a fight.  It used that."

A curse rumbled in his chest.

"It... told me where to find the gun.  I took it out of the drawer.  I
almost shot you."

"But you didn't," he soothed, chafing one of her icy hands in his.
"Instead you shouted a warning."

"Yes."  She marveled at that.  In the last terrible moment, she'd
broken free of the vamp he spell.  That was something, anyway.  She
gripped his arms.  "I have to tell you--we have to"

Before she could finish, he pressed his fingers over her mouth.  "No,"
he whispered close to her ear.  "Someone might hear."

Jessica looked around in alarm,.  her 'eyes go' rag to the door and
then to the window.

"This place is bugged" '-he said in a low voice as he got to his feet.
When he started for the bedroom, she followed.

Standing on the bed and crushing down the pillows with his bare feet,
he began to run his hand behind the light fixture near the ceiling.
"That wasn't some supernatural bogeyman giving you directions from
another astral plane," he told her, "I heard it, too."

As she grappled with that, he went on, ~ tone very low.  "I woke up
when you came down the hall, Jessie.  ~I heard a voice telling you what
a bastard I was, and that if you killed me, all your troubles would he
over ."  '

"Why didn't you move?"  she gasped.

He didn't answer.  Then he turned to the light and resumed the
search.

She stood watching him, bursting with the need to communicate, yet
holding back the words out of necessity.  Gritting her teeth, she
forced herself to think.

She'd been asleep, and the vampire had wakened her.  Griffon said it
was coming from a speaker.  Did that mean the device was near the head
of the bed?

That was logical, but the voice had been just as strong as she'd walked
down the hall.

When she got up and~ started toward the door, Griffon gave her a
questioning look.  "Be right back."

In the hall, she dropped to her knees and began to feel along the edge
of the carpet, trying first one side and then the other.  Disappointed
when she didn't find anything, she stood and gazed along the line where
the ceding me the wall.  About halfway toward the living room was a
light fixture.  First she felt around the bulb.  Then she swept her
fingers over the top.  At the back was a rounded.  lump that didn't
seem to belong on the curved metal surface.  Her heart started to pound
as she pulled the object free and held it in the palm of her hand~
turning it this way and that.  It looked a little like part of a water
faucet.

When she reached the bedroom and held up the device to Griffon, he was
beside her in an instant, lifting it from her hand and holding it up to
the light.  "Where?"  he mouthed.

"Hall light."

Mutlm~g an imprecation, he dropped it to the floor and ground it under
his foot.  Then he turned and surveyed the bedroom again, looking at
the places he'd searched and those he'd missed.

Jessica saw him stop anal focus on the light in the center of the
ceiling.  It wasn't easily accessible from the end of the bed--or
anywhere else.  Pulling over the chair from the corner, he climbed up,
unscrewed the cover from the fixture and began to feel around the rim.
In seconds he was holding a twin to the device Jessica had discovered
in the hall.  It suffered the same fate as the other one.

But they still couldn't discuss anything important.  If they'd found
two of these things, there could he more in the camper.

In exasperation, Jessica flattened the palm of her hand and did an
imitation of writing on it with her index finger.

griffon nodded and pulled a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen from the
bedside table.

"Have to talk."  She penned the words, then stopped to consider their
options.  "Carriage house?"  Griffon nodded.

Jessica tapped his arm.  When he looked at her questioningly, she wrote
"False impression."

He nodded his understanding, and she began to speak, her voice pitched
to sound as though she were too weary to cope with the unfolding
c'~rcumstances--and as if she were blaming Matthew.  "I don't know
about you, but I'm not in any shape to try to deal with this tonight.
All I want to do is get some sleep.  I know you're afraid to have
anyone hear us, but nobody can listen to us if we're not talking."

"You always get the last word," he agreed, his own tone sardonic.

"Well, this time it's good-night!"

"That suits me just fine."

The angry words flying back and forth between them made her
light-headed.  This was too much like the way they'd been a few hours
before.  Jessica's vision blurred, and she-raised her eyes to
Griffon's, hoping he could see how much this hurt.

His expression was fierce, and her name was like a strangled whisper on
his lips.  He took a step forward.  So did she.  Then he enfolded her
with his strong arms and the blessed warmth of his body.  She clung to
him tightly, tipping her face up, her lips questing for his.  When they
met, she felt an inarticulate cry from deep inside him.

"Matthew.  Matthew," she murmured as her lips moved against.  his,
seeking reassurances even as she tried to tell him wordlessly that she
loved him--that none of her feelings had changed.

The kiss went on and on, each of them devouring the other's mouth. Each
of them moving and shifting, touching and holding, reassuring and
exciting.  There was so much they needed to say.  Yet the only way they
could communicate now was through the purely physical.

His hands stroked the length of her body, greedily tracing the curve of
her waist, shaping the roundness of her hips.  When he finally 'lifted
his mouth, they were both breathing hard.  She locked her arms around
him~ and buried her face in his shirt; vividly aware of her own
arousal--and his.  It was like a thick, heavy cloak, enfolding them,
sheltering them from hurt and danger.  All she had to do was push him
just a little further, and he would carry her the few feet to the
waiting bed.  For a little while he would wipe everything from her mind
but the joy of making love with him.  Yet she knew they didn't have
that luxury.  Not if they were going to outwit whoever was trying to
destroy them.

When she looked up and saw the frustration and regret in his eyes, she
felt her chest tighten.

"We'd better go," he whispered.

She nodded but held him close for a few precious moments longer,
storing up sensations.  Then she commanded herself to pull away.

(}riffon squeezed her shoulder before beginning to move quietly around
the camper, gathering sup-plies--including a rolled sleeping bag.  The
rest he stuffed into a blue knapsack.  She followed him into the living
room, and he gave her a meaningful look as he picked up the gun.

Jessica wished they didn't need it, but it gave her a feeling of
security as he slipped it into the pocket of the knapsack.  '

They stepped outside 'into the chilly morning mist.  Miraculously the
rain had stopped, but it was still' damp--the humidity like cotton
batting pressing against her lungs.  Or maybe the breathless sensation
came from fear.  Leaving the camper had seemed like a good idea a few
minutes ago.  In fact, it had been her suggestion.  Now the night felt
alive with menace--the air thick with danger.

Jessica strained to see through the darkness, feeling exposed and
vulnerable--as if someone might be watching her through infrared
glasses or a rifle sight.  She slid her gaze to Griffon.  After pausing
to lock the door, he circled her shoulder with his arm.  Gratefully she
moved closer to the shelter.  of his body as she looked across at the
mansion.  Everyone else on the estate was supposed to be locked up safe
and sound--at Reva's instigation: Yet Jessica couldn't stop her from
probing the shadows that swathed the Victorian building.  Was someone
lurking in the shrubbery, watching them leave the camper?

Forcing that thought from her mind, she shifted her inspection to, the
upstairs windows of the house.  They were all dark.  So the others were
still asleep.  Or lying in bed wondering what was going to happen next.
Or dead.

Perhaps Griffon heard the catch in her breath.  "Let's go," he urged.

Together they made their way slowly toward the woods, each of them
stumbling more than once on the uneven ground.

When they stepped under the overhanging branches, the darkness seemed
to swallow them up.  Then Griffon switched on the flashlight.

"Thanks," Jessica murmured.

He kept the beam angled low.  "The foliag~ should hide the light."

Neither of them spoke again as they picked their way over tree roots
and around giant puddles.  The sound of their shoes squishing on the
pine needles was.  accompanied only by water dripping from the trees.

The farther they got from the camper the harder it was for Jessica to
hold back what she needed to say.  "I'm sorry," she finally blurted as
they came out from under the trees.

"About pointing the gun at me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"It wasn't your fault.  That voice put you into other hypnotic
trance."

"I thought you couldn't do something under hypnosis that you wouldn't
ordinarily do."

"Maybe you really did want to kill me."  He laughed

"Don't joke about it.  It was awful.  I didn't want to pick up the gun.
I kept trying to stop, but I couldn't get control."

"But you did--when it counted.  The important thing is that you didn't
shoot."

Jessica sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.  She supposed
he was right.  She had wanted to go to Matthew, and so in that sense
she hadn't been acting against her desires.  And she hadn't shot him.
Thank the Lord.

"You're cold.  We'd better get inside."  He tugged her forward.

As she moved with him, she suddenly realized there was a sound she'd
been hearing in the background since they'd stepped outside the camper.
Stopping, she cocked her head and listened more intently.  It was
running water.  Swift running water--wild and menacing, almost like a
living thing crashing through the woods looking for prey.

"Do you hear the river?"  she asked.

"Yeah.  The current must be pretty strong after all that rain."

"I wonder how high it is.  Do you ~ink the carriage house is safe?"

He shrugged.  "We'll find out."

Finally they stepped out of the trees onto a cracked driveway.  A gray
dawn was breaking, and Jessica breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted
the old building.

Griffon detached his arm from around her shoulder.  "Wait here."

Jessica watched him yank on the door.  It creaked open on rusVy hinges,
and she stood tensely as he disappeared inside.  He'd told her to stay
where she was, instead she tiptoed toward the yawning opening,
listening intently, but all she could hear was the raging water.

Seconds ticked by, and she felt her chest tighten painfully.
"Matthew!"

He was outside before she could blink~ "Are you all right?"

"I needed to know you were."

"Everything's fine, come on in."

It wasn't really any warmer in the old building than in the woods, but
at least it was dryer.  ~Jessica watched as Griffon played the light
around the dusty, disused interior.

"Nobody's been here in years, as far as I can see.," The beam fell on
several ancient cars, a wagon and a sleigh.  All were grimy and covered
with spiderwebs.

Griffon's pack and the sleeping bag sat in the center of the brick
floor.  Turning, he spread, out the latter~ "We can sit on this."

"Yes.  Thanks."

She snuggled close to him~ thankful for the protective weight of his
arm around her shoulder.  She had told him she was sorry, and she
v~ished he'd tell her how he really felt about what had happened.  But
his next question was strictly bus' mess

"The voice you heard talking to.  me, was it a woman?"  she asked.

"It was disguised and I couldn't hear it that well."

"Actors are trained to use different voices.  What about Perry?  He was
certainly nasty enough last night ."  '

Griffon flipped the sleeping bag's zipper tab.  "He's my second choice.
But I like Reva better."

"You've been prejudiced against her from the beginning."

"I wouldn't call it prejudice.  More like justifiable suspicion.  She
was at the door listening after the rehearsal session.  She was also at
the door after the bat incident.  She lives in a building where it
would be very hard for a make-believe vampire to get at her, yet she
claims she was visited just like the other women.  So I say she's
lying.  And one more thing.  She volunteered to get the house ready
before everyone else arrived.  She was out here alone for a whole day.
And I left the camper here part of the time."

Jessica considered the evidence.  "I can understand your logic, but why
would she be doing all of that?  I mean, what's her motive?"

He shrugged.  "That's what I can't figure out.  So I think the next
thing to do is search her luggage.  At eight-thirty, we'll go back to
the house.  You'll keep everybody busy, and I'll slip upstairs."

"And how do I do that?"

His voice turned hard.  "By telling the enthralling story of what
happened this morning.  The vampire whispers, the gun, the bugs.  The
whole bit.  That should"

He was cut off by a scream of terror that sliced through the air
outside the carriage house like a sharp knife though living flesh.

Chapter Fourteen

Griffon leapt up and made for the door.  Jessica took off right behind
him.  For agonizing seconds, she saw nothing.  Then a running figure
appeared.

It was Reva, tearing through the underbrush, her bright scarlet robe
streaming out behind her like tongues of flame.

"The vampire.  The vampire," she screamed in terror as she drew near
the carriage house.

"Wait," Jessica called, dashing toward her.  "It's not a vampire.  We
heard it, too.  There were microphones in the trailer."

But Reva paid no heed.  Griffon was in the lead, running at an angle
calculated to intercept her as their paths converged.  But he hadn't
count~i on the wall of underbrush separating them.  Forced to stop, he
cursed loudly and circled back.  Jessica passed him, stumbled over a
root and caught herself against the rough bark of a pine tree before
she went sprawling.

"Stop.  Reva, stop," she shouted.  But her assistant ran on as if the
devil himself were chasing her.

"She's heading toward the river," Jessica gasped.

Reva wove through the trees.  Jessica pounded after her, hearing the
roar of the water increase.

Suddenly, through the foliage, she could see the river, and she cried
out in shock at the wild, surging expanse of dirty brown, spilling out
of its normal course, carrying tree trunks along on its surface like
matchsticks.

As if unaware of the danger ahead of her, R~a sped on.  But Griffon had
passed Jessica and was gaining on her.

Heart pounding, throat burning, Jessica stumbled forward.  She could
see Reva was heading toward a crumbling stone building that had
probably stood well back from the bank.  Now it was surrounded by
slowly eddying water.

Was that why Reva had come here?  Because she remembered that a vampire
couldn't cross flowing water.  Maybe she thought she'd be safe in the
little house.

Jessica sighed with relief.  The building wasn't in the main current.
They could follow Reva inside and take her back to the mansion.

The terrified woman had reached the water.  Plunging in up to her
knees, she splashed her way to the building and disappeared around the
corner.  Griffon was a dozen yards behind her.  And Jessica was at
least that far behind him.

Another scream split the morning air.

Jessica stood frozen, her gaze trained on the house.  Then she saw a
flash of scarlet in the water.  It was Re, va's silk robe.  Above it
her red hair hob bed and her pale arms seemed to claw at the air.  The
current grabbed her, sweeping her downstream.

"Matthew!"  209

Lurching to a stop, he changed course and began to run beside the
surging river.  But as Jessica watched in horror, a tree trunk swept
downstream, rolled over Reva and swept her under the surface as if she
had no more weight than a doll.

Jessica drew abreast of Griffon, panting and sobbing and praying that
she'd see the scarlet robe bob to the surface.  But there was no sign
of it--and no sign of Reva.

"Oh God.  Oh God;" Jessica sobbed, hardly able to comprehend what had
happened.  "Somebody did this to her!  Tricked her into' killing
herself!  While we were in the carriage house trying to convict her of
a crime she didn't commit?

Griffon stared at the swollen river, as if he couldn't quite believe
what they'd both seen.  Before he could say anything, another voice
floated above the sound of the torrent.  "R~a... R~va..."

They both turned toward the frantic cry as Diedre stumbled into view.
Her face was gray, bits of branches and brambles clung to her sweat
suit, and her shoes were unrecognizable under a thick coat of mud. Both
Griffon and Jessica ran toward her.  "Reva... have you seen Reva?" She
was panting.  "Tin sorry."  Jessica choked out the words.  "We couldn't
stop her from plunging into the water."  She gulped and forced out the
rest.

"Oh, Lord."

"Neither one of us could catch her," Griffon added.  Diedre dragged in
a shaky breath.  "Neither could

"What happened?  Why were you following her?"  Griffon asked.

She sucked in more air before answering.  "when I woke up, she wasn't
in bed.  I waited to see if she was in the bathroom or something, but
when she didn't come back I threw on some clothes and went to look for
her."  The older woman puffed.  "She was downstairs on the porch
screaming and flapping her arms around her head as if something were
attacking her.,

"Like the bat that came at me."  Jessica glanced at Griffon.

He turned to Diedre.  "Could you see anything?"

"No.  But she was screaming about the vampire."  She looked pleadingly
at Jessica.  "Do you think"

"No!"  Jessica assured her, giving an abbreviated account of the last
hour.

"Then I guess somebody did that to her, too," Diedre sobbed.

Jessica took the older woman' into her arm.  s, and they rocked~
together.  Feeling Griffon's presence beside her, she looked up and
caught the bleak expression on his face.

She held out her hand to him.  "I was upset, and I made it sound like
it was your fault she went into the river.  It wasn't."

He hesitated before grabbing her fingers.  She squeezed his hand and
became closer so that him other arm was around her shoulder.  "For
several moments, none of them moved.

Then Diedre shuddered.  "The others ... back at the house.  They could
be in danger, too."

"We've got to come up with a strategy to protect ourselves," Griffon
said.  "Until we can get out of here."

Quietly they all started back.

The first thing they saw when they drew near the house was Heather
pacing uncertainly down the steps and then back to the door.  "Oh,
thank God," she claimed when she saw them.  Perry appeared on the
porch, looking elaborately unconcerned, a steaming mug in his hand.

In the kitchen, Edward was hunched over the kitchen table, his head
cradled in hands that trembled.  An'other coffee mug was in front of
him, but it looked as if he hadn't touched the contents.

"How are you feeling?"  Jessica asked.

He raised his head, and she stared at bloodshot eyes and skin that was
a shade somewhere between putty-gray and evil green.

"Hung over and frightened," Perry answered the question for him, his
voice contemptuous as he reentered the kitchen.  "I've been filling him
in on what he missed at the meeting last night.  It looks like he's
going to be about as much use to us as a dried-up can of paint."

Heather clutched Jessica's arm.  "Where's Reva?"  she asked.

"I'm afraid there's been an accident," Jessica answered gently.

"Tell me!  Just get it over with and tell me!"

"Let's all sit down first."  It was Griffon who spoke.  When everyone
was seated around the table, he told them what had happened at the
fiver.

"I knew it!"  Heather whispered.  "I heard her screaming, but I was
afraid to get out of bed.  It was the vampire.  It's going to get us
all, isn't it?"  She turned to Jessica her eyes pleading.

Perry snorted.  "It's daylight, you stupid lit He twit.  Vampires go
back to their coffins when the sun comes out, so you've got a
twelve-hour reprieve."

"Stop making yourself feel macho by sniping at everyone else."  Griffon
ground out the words.

The two men faced each other tensely across the table, and she waited
to see whether Perry would back down.  With an elaborate shrug, he got
up and began to rummage in one of the drawers.  He came back with a
spoon, which he used to stir his coffee.

Jessica let out the breath she'd been holding.

Griffon gave her a half smile, and she tried to smile back.

He looked around at the circle of tense faces.  "The first thing to do
is to make sure everybody's up-to-date on information.  We can start
with what happened at the trailer this morning," He nodded to
Jessica.

Wishing she didn't have to talk about it, she gave a matter-of-fact
account of her v/sitafion--and then of their search for and discoveO,
of the bugs.

Heather looked around fearfully.  "Then somebody could be listening to
this conversation right now."

Jessica felt her scalp prielde as she and Griffon changed glances.  All
along they'd assumed that the culprit was one of the group, but Heather
could be right.  What if someone else had been here since they
arrived?

"It's abig old house."  Diedre voiced her thought.  "Them could be
secret rooms, secret passages.  Did you check that out before we moved
in?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking about being stalked" Jessica answered.

Perry scraped back his chair and started for the door.  "We'd damn well
better think about it now."

"Don't leave.  It's safer if we stick together.  Reva got into trouble
because she went off alone," Jessica told him.

Perry pressed his lips together, but he stayed in the doorway.

"The voice could have told her to drown herself!"  Edward entered the
conversation for the first time.

Griffon's sharp gaze focused on him.  "Have you heard anything?"

The older man looked down at his hands, which were clasped tightly
together on the table.  The knuckles were white.

"Please," Jessica urged, "we're all in this together, and any scrap of
information might be the thing we need to save our lives."

"I $hought it might have been from.  ,."  His voice trailed off.

"Alcoholic hallucinations," Perry spat out.

Jessica shot him a sharp look, and he closed his mouth abruptly.

"Everybody's been experiencing weird things," she told Edward.  "Line
the make-believe vampire that visited me this morning.  That was pretty
frightening.  And it's happened to other people, too.  What did you
hear?"

Edward cleared his throat.  "Well, I, uh, woke up in the dark and heard
whispering.  Someone directing me to get out of bed."

"Did you?"  Jessica asked.

"Not bloody likely!  I'm not going to let any voice tell me what to do,
am I."

"How did you make yourself ignore it?"  she persisted, hunching
forward, her hands clutching her arms.

"I clasped-my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut--that's
how."

"Apparently Reva was more susceptible.  She wasn't able to stop herself
from being swept downstream," Griffon told the group, but his eyes
flicked to Jessica.

She nodded, understanding the message.  She had stopped following the
commands.  Reva had died.

"By the way, after Jessica left the bedroom, I could hear the voic~
that was ~talking to her," Crriffon said.  "Did anyone else hear
anything unusual last night?  Heather?  Perry, ?  Diedre?"

Heather and Perry shook their heads.

Diedre looked uncertain.  "I'm not sure," she murmured.  "Maybe some of
the whispering to Reva.  Or my mind could have conjured it up."

"But we know for sure that Reva was affected.  So let's start by
looking for a microphone in the room where the women slept."

Quietly, as if they were afraid someone was listening, they all got up
from the table and tiptoed toward the stairs upstairs.

Griffon led the way to the makeshift women's dorm.  As the others filed
inside, Heather touched Jessica's arm.

The young woman twisted her foot in a circle on the carpet.  "This is
making me, you know, nervous," she said in a low voice.  "Is it okay if
I hit the little girl's room for a minute?"

Jessica hesitated.  "Come right back as soon as you... uh..."  Her
voice trailed off.

"Yeah."

Griffon looked at Jessica inquiringly as she entered the room. "Where's
Heather?"  he asked.  "Bathroom."

He nodded and continued with what he'd been saying to the little group.
"The microphones we found in the trader were flat disks about the size
of a finger-nail.  They were both hidden in light fixtures.  But they
could be anywhere.  Why don't we each take part of the room?  Thatway,
we can finish quickly.  Diedre, you check out Reva's bed."

Perry, who was making an effort to cooperate, gestured toward the
ten-foot-high ceiling and the light fixture.  "You're not going to
reach that thing without a step stool.  There's one in the closet in my
room--I guess for the top storage shelves."

"Would you mind getting it?"  Griffon asked,

matching Perry's conciliatory tone.

"Sure.  Be right back."

Diedre and Griffon each took a quadrant of the' room.  Jessica started
in one of the remaining corners, crawling along the baseboards and then
feeling the edges of the window frame.  Absorbed in the task, she'd
been working for a while when she realized that neither Heather nor
Perry had come back.  Frowning, she glanced at her watch, wondering
exactly how much time had passed.

Not wanting to alarm any of the others, she moved quietly across the
carpet toward Griffon and touched his sleeve.  "I'm going to cheek on
Heather."

"Damn!"  he whispered.  "And Perry.  Maybe we shouldn't have let anyone
go off alone.  Take Diedre with you and bring Heather back.  I'll go
see what's keeping the soap opera king."

Jessica couldn't stop her stomach from tightening painfully as she and
Diedre made their way down the hall to the bathroom.

"Heather?  Are you all right."  she eaHed through the closed door.

The young woman didn't answer.  In fact, no sounds at all came from
inside.

"Heather?"  Jessica rapped on the door.  When there was no response,
she glanced questioningly at Diedre.

"Better open it.  She could have fain teA or ... or something."

With clammy fingers, Jessica turned the knob.  The door was locked.
Heather?  Are you all right?  Heather?  " she called out, banging on
the wood and rattling the lock.

Foots~ps came hammering along the floorboards, and Griffon was beside
her.  "What's wrong?"

She twisted the knob "Heather's locked herself in, and she doesn't
answer."  '~

Griffon rammed his shoulder against the barrier--once, twice.  It gave,
and the door flew inward,

The room was empty.

Chapter Fifteen

Jessica felt the hair all over her scalp stand on end

"Heather!"  she moaned, reaching out to steady herself against the
sink.

Griffon cursed under his breath.  "Perry's not in his room, either.  I
don't suppose he came back this way?"  Jessica shook her head.

"Heather!  Perry!"  he raged.  "I've had cuough of this.  Get back
here, both of you!"

The only reply was an awful silence hanging over the house.

Diedre began to tremble violently.  "First Re-Reva.  Now it's got
Heather-and Perry, too."

"Nobody's got them!"  Jessica exclaimed.  "They were here a few minutes
ago."

"They can't have gone far," Griffon added.  Edward must have heard the
commotion, because he came shuffling down the hall from the bedroom.

"Maybe they're the ones," he rasped.

"The ones?"  Jessica questioned.

"Doing all the hell-raising," he clarified.  "And they've gone missing
so they can play some more dirty tricks."

"No.  Perry hates Heather," Jessica objected before reconsidering. "But
they did pick the same time to disappear.  And she's the one who shot
down my theory about the scarf."

"The antagonism could be a ruse," Griffon said pointedly.  "And Perry
was be' rag real cooperative all of a sudden.  But we don't have time
to wasl~ debating it."  Quickly he led a search of the upper and then
the ground floor.  They all went room by room, peering under beds,
opening closets, pulling drapes aside and rapping on walls--looking for
the missing pair and for secret passages.

Jessica's spirits sank a notch lower when they found nothing.

"We're all going to vanish, one by one," Diedre whispered.  "Couldn't
we just go upstairs and barricade ourselves in one of the bedrooms?"

"Heather disappeared from behind a locked door," Griffon reminded
her.

"Well, I'm bloody well going to bolt myself in," Edward stated.

"You mean you're going to your room became you need a drink," Griffon
clarified,

The actor turned quickly away.

"Please.  We have to stick together," Jessica pleaded.

But Edward ignored her and stalked toward the stairs.

"We'll never see him again," Diedre moaned.

Griffon's face was bleak in the shadowy light.

"Yeah.  And maybe Reva was right."

"About what?"  Jessica asked.  "About the vampire.  About me."

"No!"

"I feel like I've stepped into one of my books," he said in a voice
that rang through the empty rooms.  "Nothing is wh~t it seems.  Next
the walls will start to shimmer and dissolve."

He sounded like a man going to pieces under terrible pressure.  Jessica
moved closer to him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.
"Someone's working very hard to make us feel that way."

"It's more than I can take!"  He yanked her around so that she was
facing him.

His whole demeanor compelled her to focus on his eyes.  When he dug his
nails into her palm, she caught the urgency of his gaze.

"We can't even talk beeanse the vampire might be listening," he rasped.
"It's like in the trailer.  Before we went outside.  Remember?"

"Yes."  When they'd concocted a fake little scene to try to put the
hunter off the scent.

"We can't make plans without somebody knowing every move we're going to
make.  " So what the hell are we going to do?  "

They stood staring at each other in the dim13 lit hall.

"I understand ... why you're so upset," Jessica murmured.

"Oh, do you3" he growled.  But some of the tension had gone out of his
face.  Now what?  she mouthed.  Basement.

Jessica felt a ripple of fear slither over her skin.  After finding
Richie at the bottom of the stairs, she'd studiously avoided the
cellar.  But Griffon was right.  It was the only place they hadn't
searched.  If Heather aad Perry didn't turn up, there might at least be
some clue down there.

Griffon squeezed her hand.  Then he reached under the tail of his shirt
and pulled out the revolver he'd packed in the knapsack.

Somehow the gun made her feel both safer and more vulnerable.  Safer
because they had a weapon.  Vulnerable because it was an
acknowledgement of unknown danger.

Jessica helped Diedre to her feet.  The actress leaned against her as
they made their slow way down the hall.  "Where are we going?"

"Better not talk here," Jessica murmured, then looked around with
exaggerated caution at the walls and ceiling as she cupped her hand
around her ear.  Diedre's jaw tightened.

Griffon; who was a few paces ahead, stopped at the entrance to the
basement and pressed a hand to Jessica's shoulder.  She nodded,
watching as he tested each of the stair treads before trusting it with
his full weight.  When he reached the bottom, he gestured for Jessica
to follow.

The only way to make herself descend into the damp and darkness was to
move quickly.  So she fairly flew down the steps, feeling the cold,
dank air reach out tentacles that wrapped themselves around her like
some hungry, living thing.  With all the rain, the walls seemed to ooze
moisture, and the atmosphere was thick with the choking smell of hidden
mold.  Shivering, she crossed to Griffom

"You're doing fine," he murmured as he pressed her close.

She gave a self-deprecating little laugh "Oh, sure."

Diedre sank into a little heap on the bottom step.  "How could Heather
and Perry just.  vanish from under our noses?"  Her voice cracked and
Jessica knew she was on the thin edge of hysleria.

"They could have used a window."

"Maybe it isn't both of them.  Maybe Perry followed Heather down the
hall and grabbed her before she closed the door," Jessica suggested.

Diedre looked fearfully around the cellar.  "It's not safe here.  Why
don't we leave the house?"

"And do what?  Go where?"  Jessica asked.  "But don't you feel it?"
Diedre quavered.  "Feel what?"

"Evil."

Jessica gave a nervous laugh and struggled to get a grip on herself.
"Don't fall apart," she urged, glad she had the job of bucking up
Diedre.  "Somebody's deliberately trying to make us come unglued, so we
can't figure out what's going on."

The actress responded with a little sob.

"It's all right," Jessica murmured comfortingly.  "We'll get through
this."  When she looked up at Griffon, he was standing near the steps,
his head cocked to one side as if he were listening to something.

"What is it?"  Jessica hissed.

"Don't you hear it?"

She strained her ears and thought she detected a faint grating noise
that might have been coming from deep in the earth.  It sent a shiver
along her neck and down the length of her spine.

She had taken a couple of steps toward Griffon when everything was
plunged into total blackness.

Jessica froze as she felt an unexpected rash of cold air whoosh toward
her.  It was followed by a scuffling sound.  Diedre screamed and began
to thrash around as if she'd been grabbed by a monster none of them
could see.

Griffon bolted forward.  In the darkness he slammed into Jess'w~a.  She
clutched at him.  "Wait!  Diedre!"

"She's gone."

They were both silent.  Nothing moved around them.  Jessica pressed her
head against Matthew's chest so that she could feel the pounding of his
heart.  Dimly she realized that hers was thumping just as
frantically.

"Diedre?"  Griffon called out sharply.  There was no reply.  "Diedre,
answer me!"

Still nothing.

He cursed, shifted his weight and fumbled for something.  A narrow
light pierced the darkness, and she realized he'd been carrying a small
flashlight as well as the gun.  Jessica anxiously followed the beam
with her eyes as he played it back and forth across the floor.

Griffon tried to move past Jessica and into the cavernous reaches of
the basement.

She clutched his arm.  "Don't leave me alone.  If--if you do, you'll
disappear.  Or I will!"

He turned back toward her and held her tightly.  She began to shake
uncontrollably in the darkness.  "They're all gone.  Vanished.  If we
go upstairs, Edward will be missing--just like everybody else."

"And we won't know whether it's because something has happened to him
or if he's the one who's been playing nasty tricks.  Maybe the drinking
is an act so nobody would ask questions when he shut himself in his
room."

"You said he was out cold when you went to get him for the meeting."

"That's what I thought."

Jessica closed her eyes against the darkness.  Griffon fingers stroked
her shoulders and she felt his lips brush her hair.

"Why is this happening?"  she whispered.

"I'd like to know."

"Well, the only thing I know for sure is that I didn't see anyone come
down here or hear anyone drag Diedre upstairs.  Which means whoever
snatched her had to come from the other direction."

Griffon took Jessica's hand.  "Come on, we're going to figure out which
one of them is trying to drive

"Can't we just leave?"

"How far do you think we'd get?  Outside we'd make great ~.rgets."

She nodded tightly, and he began to lead her farther into the midnight
reaches of the basement.  But she took only a few steps before the
walls seemed to press in upon her.  She dug her heels into the floor.

"I

don't want to go back there.  "

"Neither do I."

Reluctantly'she let him guide her forward again.  Yet every taut nerve
in her body was screaming for her to run in the other direction.

She fixed her eyes on the narrow flashlight beam, praying that it
wouldn't go out.  It was impossible not to imagine spooky things
lurking beyond the little sliver of illumination, stalking her and
Griffon, moving with them and dancing adroitly away when the light
happened to swing in their direction.

"W-we need a better flashlight," she blurted.

"I know.  But if we go get one, whoever's out there will have time to
get away and set up the next ambush.  And it will be for us."

Jessica glanced over her shoulder.  They had come through several
lightless rooms, and she wasn't so sure she could find the way back to
the exit if the flashlight failed.

The realization added another layer of terror to the fear already
clawing a~ the inside of her chest.  Gasping for breath, she clutched
Griffon's arm as if she were a blind woman set down in an unfamiliar
place.

But even as she clung to him, the damp, inky blackness and the
appalling feeling of being stalked began to do strange things to her
mind.  Gradually she passed into a realm where fantasy and reality
blended.  What if Griffon were the one?  What if he'd been playing with
her emotions all along?  And this was the mo menthe picked to lead her
to destruction?

When she hung back, he tugged on her hand.  The beam of light hit a
cinderblock wall.  "Damn."  Griffon let go of her hand and moved toward
the wall.  He played the light slowly back and forth over the
surface.

Jessica exhaled a long sigh.  "We can go back now,"

she said, feeling a profound sense of relief.

"No."

"Matthew, come on.  Something bad is going to happen if we stay
here."

Ignoring the warning, he stooped and ran his hand along the flooring.
"I feel an air current."

"What?"

"There's air moving between this room and an other one on the other
side of the wall."

"But it's solid."

"It's supposed to look that way."  Excitement ran in his voice as he
set the gun on the floor and handed Jessica the flashlight.  "Hold this
while I see if I can find the mechanism that opens it."

Jessica wrapped her hand around the plastic case.  She had the light.
She could go back.  Get out of this awful place.  Somehow she forced
herself to stand firm and hold the light while Griffon went over the
surface of the wall, testing and press' rag with his hands.

A grating sound brought the hairs on her arms to attention.  ,

"Don't!"  she gasped, knowing all at once that opening the secret door
was the wrong thing to do.  "I've got it!"

Heart dr~rnming in her ears, she backed away as she felt a rush of
damp, chilly air.

Then something screeched high and piercing as it flapped out of the
darkness.  Only this time instead of beating its wings around her head,
it dove for her neck, its sharp teeth sinking into her flesh.

Chapter Sixteen

Jessica screamed again and again as she dropped the flashlight and
fought to pull the evil creature away from her.  Something crashed to
the floor and the light went out.

Dimly she heard Griffon say, "Wha" -- But the word was choked off.

Finally she knocked the fluttering, clinging thing away from her body.
Turning, she staggered into the darkness, clutching her wound.  Her
shoulder grazed a wall as she fled, and she.  cried out in pain.  But
the obstacle barely slowed her down.

A dim shaft of light wavered ahead of her, and she realized with
heartfelt relief that it was coming from the door at the top of the
stairs.  Scrambling up the steps, she slammed the door and lay panting
and sobbing on the hall floor.  When she pressed her fingers against
her neck, they came away bloody.  As she gawked at the red streak, fear
threatened to swallow her whole--to wipe every coherent thought from
her brain.

Then a picture of Matthew flashed into her mind.  She held fast to it
with everything she had--yearning toward him, used his image to bring
her panic under control.

Oh God.  He was still in the basement.  She'd run away and left him.
Now she had to go back and help him.

Jessica stared down into the darkness and shuddered.  Diedre had been
right.  Evil was lurking there.  Evil beyond imagining.

Utterly alone, she hugged her arms around her shoulders and rocked back
and forth like 'an abandoned child.  She needed help.  But she was the
only one left in this godforsaken death house.  The only one who could
save Matthew--and herself.

MA TrI-mW'S ~ were closed, his body limp and boneless.  He didn't fight
as strong hands dragged him across the' cement floor.  He'd been
startled when a needle had pierced his flesh.  Then the rush had
come--and he'd been swamped by a wonderful, familiar lethargy.

Worry, anxiety seemed to drift away on a pastel cloud.  Gratefully he
let them go.  He had been on some mission that had seemed important.
He'd been trying to keep everything from coming out wrong again

But it didn't matter now.  He felt too relaxed.  Too peaceful.  Too
sleepy to worry about any worldly crisis.

It was just like after the accident.  When the nurses had come with
regular injections to take away the pain, and he'd found out he could
drift away into a space of his own where nothing seemed important or
urgent.

Sleep.  Oblivion.  That was the best thing.  The answer to all his past
and future problems.

Far away a door slammed.  Or did it just sound that way?

Rough' hands tumbled him onto what felt and smelled like a pile of
musty rugs.  It wasn't very comfortable, but he lay dreamy and
drifting, his bones like jelly.

He sensed others in the room.  Beside him someone was breathing
heavily.  Matthew's lids flickered just enough for him to see his
companion.  It was Perry, his body inert and his mouth slack.

"Go heddy bye, Griffon," a voice rasped.  "Until I need you to finish
out my plans.  We've had the broken steps, the bats, and the hypnotism,
the microphones, and all the rest of the special effects.  It'-s all
worked very well, even if you did find the bugs.  Now we're almost
ready for the grand finale."

Heknew who was speaking.  Sort of.  He knew.  But he couldn't quite t,
ai ember who it was.  And he didn't care.  About the voice or anything
else.  Now that his wife was dead.

His mind twisted in confusion.  His wife.  Hadn't that been a long time
ago?  Long, long before he'd met Jessica--and fallen in love with her.
Jessie.  The woman who was meant for him.  His own true love.  Mayhe
she would come to him here, and they could drift through the clouds
together.

He smiled.

"That's right.  You think you're so clever, so intellectual But I've
got you where I want you.  Like all the rest of these sleeping turkeys.
And now I can finish with Jessica."

He made a tremendous effort to speak.  "Vampire?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"  The question was followed by a harsh
laugh.  Then there was only cold and silence.

N~D FZ~4SHt~OHr.  Need flashlight.  Need flashlight.

Jessica chanted that over and over as she scrabbled frantically through
the bags and boxes stashed in the pantry.  Heedlessly she began tossing
supplies in a circle around her.  Napkins.  Plastic bags.  Cereal.
Toothpaste.

Finally she found what she was looking for under a twin pack of paper
towels.  With the light clutched tightly in her hand, she started back
toward the basement door.

Matthew had put down the gun so he could exam-inc the wall.  If she
could find it, maybe She couldn't come up with any more of a plan. With
a little sob, she touched her neck.  Truly she didn't know who or what
she was fighting.  All she could say was that a solid wall had moved,
and Matthew had disappeared.  And she had to find him or die trying.

Jessica never got as far as the basement door.  She was halfway down
the hall when shrill laughter stopped her in her tracks.

It was coming from above her.  Around her.  From below her feet, it
seemed.  She still grasped the flashlight as she pressed her hands over
her ears.  But it did no good.  The sound wormed its way between her
fingers, into her head, into the cells of her brain, like a viper's
teeth.

"Stop.  Please stop."

"Your wish is my command."

Instantly there was utter silence.  Ominous silence.

Heart blocking her windpipe, Jessica backed away.  Before she could
take more than a half dozen steps, the dark shape of a bat came
flapping out of the shadows, its wings beating the air as it swooped
toward her.

IT HAD BEEN a long time since he'd felt like this.  Safe and peaceful.
Like rocking in a sea of half-formed dreams.  Once he had craved this
numb state,.  where pain was only a shadow flickering in a tiny corner
of his mind.

Then an idea for a story had started dancing tantalizingly through his
imagination, and he'd found to his horror that he couldn't summon the
words to write it down.  To this day he wasn't sure why the need to
ere-ate had been stronger than the need to banish pain.  But creation
had won.  That had been the first step toward winning his freedom.  Of
coming back to life.

He had traveled down an endless, dark tunnel.  For along time he hadn't
even known he was still trapped inside .  ~ curving walls.  Then he'd
spied Jessie standing at the end--surrounded by light and hope.  and
all the good things he'd told himself he didn't need.  She was waiting
for him.  Calling to him.  Urging him out of the darkness.  And getting
to her, holding her tightly, had become the most important thing in the
world.

Jessie.  Oh, God, Jessie.

He'd claimed her as his own.  But it was going to happen again. Someone
he loved was going to die.

The terrible knowledge wasplike a jolt of adrenaline to his system.

This time--this time he had a chance to save her, to make it come out
right.

Summoning a superhuman burst of energy, he struggled to strip away the
layers of foam that wrapped his mind.  He'd been drugged by someone,
but he knew how to fight the narcotic circulating in his bloodstream.
He had done it before.  Long ago, before he'd kicked his addiction.
When he'd needed to be coherent.

Somehow he pushed himself to a sitting position and pulled his legs
against his chest.  Head cradled on his knees, he fought a wave of
nausea.

Time passed.  Maybe minutes.  Maybe cons.  When he opened his eyes, he
found he was in a darkened room.  A ventilator fan hummed in the
ceiling.  Around him were sleeping people.

Perry was beside him.  The others?

Diedre and Heather lay on narrow cots along the wall.  Edward looked
asif he'd been carelessly tossed into a corner.

Perry.  Diedre.  Heather.  Edward.  All of them were here.  In a
drugged sleep.  Sowho had made the basement wall move?  Who had dragged
them into this underground room?

Carefully he looked around the utilitarian chamber.  Concrete walls and
floor.  Metal bunk.  ~. A shortwave radio.  Shelves of dusty canned
food with outdated labels, bottled water and other supplies lining ~the
walls.

This was some kind of emergency storeroom--with beds, A disaster
refuge?

And then it came to him.  He'd seen pictures of places like this.  It
was a bomb shelter.  Probably built in the 50s when the U. S.
population had been told they could survive a nuclear attack by
barricading themselves in the basement and waiting for the fallout to
settle.

Moving ~as quickly as he could--which was like slogging through
chest-high water--Matthew forced him.  ~elf to a standing position. His
vision blurred, and his head began to pound.  Grabbing a top bunk, he
waited for the world to stop spinning.  Then he lurched over to
Heather.

"Wake up!"  he commanded, shaking her with as much force as he could
munster.  She was the youngest and the fittest.  The first to be
brought here and probably the first to be drugged.  But he got no
response from his attempts to rouse her.  She'd had no defenses against
the narcotic. In fact, he doubted whether she even knew what had hit
her.

He wobbled over to each of them in turn.  Edward was the one in worst
shape.  His skin was cold, his breath was shallow and he was completely
oblivious when Matthew jabbed a fingernail into the side of his neck.

He'd been drugged after drinking alcohol--which was a deadly
combination.  If he didn't get medical help soon, he wasn't going to
make it.

Matthew staggered over to the reinforced door.  It was locked.  In
anger and frustration, he pounded his fists against the barrier.

THE BAT FLAPPED past Jessica, crashed into the wall, and plummeted to
the floor.  With jerky lit He sobs, she backed away.

"That was just to get your attention!  Like I've been doing all
along."

Afraid to turn yet knowing there was nowhere left to hide, Jessica
found herself facing the pale, ghostly figure of a woman clad in a
billowing white gown.  Her skin was the color of chalk.  Her lips a
slash of crimson.  And her face was that of Reva Kane.

Jessica tried to scream, but no sound came from her throat as she
backed away.  "You're dead.  I saw you drown," she gasped in a high,
thin whisper.

Reva gave a long, delighted laugh.  "Yes.  You saw me swept downstream.
And now I've come back to haunt you," she snarled.  "Just the way C. R.
Adams haunted my whole life."

Jessica stood rooted like a statue, unable to move, unable to draw in a
full breath, unable to comprehend the twisting and turning of reality
as she stared at the apparition.

Reva.  Back from the dead.

What did Reva:-Reva's ghost--have to do with her father?

The spectral figure slowly raised and lowered her arms, flapping the
flowing sleeves of her gown as if they were wings.  With measured
steps, she advanced on Jessica as if she were an avenging demon.  "I'll
drag you down to hell with me.  The hell I've lived in s'nice I was
born."

On a c~oking sob, Jessica turned and stumbled away, hardly aware of
where she was going as she picked up speed.  But Reva stayed only a few
feet behind her.

Somehow they ended up in the living room.  Reva closed the distance
between them, grabbing Jessica with inhuman force, spinning her around
and around.  Then she hurled her down so that she landed in a dizzy,
terrified heap on the sofa cushions.

Her sanity near the breaking point, she stared up in horror at the
white-clad figure hovering over her.  "No,

please," she moaned.  " Why are you doing this?  What did I ever do to
you?  "

"You took away his love and his money!"  Reva spat.

Jessica gawked at her.  "His love?"

"My father's.  Your father's."  "Your father?"  Jessica gasped.

"You lived with him in a Moorish palace on Mul-holland Drive, with
servants to take care of your every need.  And I was stuck in a
miserable shack in Mon-rovia with a mother drinking herself to death
because the great C. R. Adams had gotten her pregnant and kicked her
out into the gutter."  Reva'~ face was close to Jessica's; her fingers
circled her arm and dug into the flesh.

Her skin smelled unwashed.  Her stale breath hissed in and out of her
lungs.

Frantically Jessica tried to push her away.  Even as she did, sensory
evidence was piling up.  The woman hovering over her was solid and
real.  Her body was warm, feverish.  And all at once Jessica knew she
wasn't fighting a phantom returned from the river.  This woman was as
human and alive as she was-her-self.  "It's you, Reva.  You're not
dead."

Reva jumped back, her face a twisted mask.  One moment her right hand
was empty.  In the next it held a revolver.

For agonizing moments, she said nothing, and Jessica waited for her to
pull the trigger and end the terror.  Instead she began to speak. "Yes,
I'm alive.  I had a dummy ready with clothes just like mine.  All I had
to do was throw it in the water and stay out of sight."

"Wh-why?"  Jessica stammered.  "What have I ever done to y~)u besides
give you a job?"

"I made myself so tempting, you would have been a fool not to hire
me."

"Why?"  Jessica asked again, trying to keep her talking, conscious that
she was facing a very dangerous woman who had already killed with
impunity.  But there had to be a way out of this.  In rapid succession,
her mind ran through every thriller she could remember where the
innocent victim gets away from the crazed killer with the gun.  God, if
this were only the finale of Indiana Iones, and she could close her
eyes while Reva was vaporized by evil spirits.

"My mother was a pretty little starlet who thought the great director
loved her," Reva was saying.  "She found out how much he cared about
her when she told him she was pregnant."

"But--but I never even knew about you.  And if I had, I wouldn't have
wanted to hurt you.  Why are you blaming me?"

"You got every good thing I should have gotten from him."

Now it was Jessica who laughed as she pushed her-serf up straighter.
"You mean from a father ~who'd spank you if your room wasn't perfectly
neat.  A father who'd mock you at the dinner table.  A father who never
said anything to you that wasn't critical--un less a Hollywood reporter
was listening."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true.  Living with C. R. Adams was like living in a concentration
camp where the commandant's word was law.  Only the facilities were
plusher."

Reva slapped Jessica's mouth in a stinging blow.

Crying out in pain, she cringed back against the cushions.

"Shut up!  Shut up!  I won't listen to your lies.  I've been following
your glamorous Hollywood life for years."

Jessica pressed her hand against her burning lips as she stared at the
woman with the gun.  Her eyes were wild.  Her mouth a grim slash.
Obviously her mind had been poisoned years ago by her mother, and facts
weren't going to change it now.

"What have you done with Matthew?"  she demanded.

"He's in cold storage, with the others.  In the bomb shelter.  That's
one of the reasons this house was so perfect.  I'm the one who
suggested it to Richie--but I let him take the credit.  It's isolated
and it's got secret passages.  When you set the place on fire, your
lover and the movie cast will all roast alive in their underground
tomb."

"When I what?"  Jessica croaked.

"You're unstable2 I told that reporter--Montgomery-all about it over
the phone.  That's how he knew the murder of that derelict was worth
investigating.  I gave him a lot of background on you.  How your mental
problems were inherited from your father: We even talked about how you
might have set up the death to promote your vampire movie.  How it just
takes a vacuum pump.  and some tubing to exsanguinate a victim ."  '

"NOV'

Reva ignored her.  "It was like a sign from heaven when you got
interested in Midnight Kiss.  I was thinking how satisfying it would be
to bring you down just when it looked like success was in your grasp.
And the vampire motif was perfect!  I even imported a vampire bat from
South America--to go with the custom-made remote control models.  I
told the designer they were for the movie--even though you were only
planning to show the shadow of the bat~ through the window curtains. He
didn't know you were cutting every corner you could on this production.
Mine are l/kc those airplanes hobbyists fly.  Only they have extra
controls for the sound effects and the sharp lit-He teeth." As she
stared at the wound in Jessica's neck, a smile flickered around her
lips.  "I liked watching you come unraveled.  It was fun trying
different things.  It would have been nice to see if I could get you to
shoot Griffon.  But my barbecue plans are just as good ."  '

~lessica moistened her lips.  Reva was the one with mental problems,
and years of resentment and frustration to' fuel her sense of
purpose.

"How did you know about the tape 'my mother made?"  She asked as she
stealthily moved the flashlight into a better position.

"I pretended I was writing a book on the great director C. R.
Adams--and I interviewed form~ staff members and people from the
studio."

"Then you know the only person C. R. Adams loved was himself."  Jessica
couldn't stop herself from arguing.

"Don't try to distort the picture!"  Reva warned, the gun in her hand
jerking ominously.  It seemed she'd discounted information she didn't
want to hear--and would keep discounting it.  And she was becoming even
more unstable.  If Jessica didn't try something soon she was a dead
woman.  But the only ploy she could think of was one of the oldest
tricks in the book.

"Matthew, thank God," she called, as if she'd seen him in the
doorway.

Reva half turned.

It was then that a black, familiar shape came flapping through the
doorway, screeching as it circled the room.

Both women gasped and flinched away Then geva suddenly seemed to
remember the gun in her hand.  Raising it toward the flying creature,
she fired.  once.  twice.  She must have missed, because the bat
whirled, came around again and dived at her.  Its wings tangled in her
hair.  Its sharp teeth clacked as they grazed her scalp.

Raising her hands and screaming wildly, Reva beat at the bat.  Seizing
the opportunity, Jessica slung the lash light like a club.  She saw it
hit Reva's head, heard the woman cry out in pain and surprise.

"Down, Jessica.  Get down."

The shout came from the doorway.  And Jessica's heart leapt, even as
she rolled off the sofa and onto the carpet.

It was Matthew.  Somehow it really was Matthew.

Reva whirled.  "Damn you.  Damn you!"  The curse was punctuated by a
series of shots from the gun.

Chapter Seventeen

She heard the gun crack again and felt something hot shoot past her
cheek.

Two more shots rang out--this time from Matthew's gun--and a heavy body
thumped to the floor.  Jessiea's heart was in her throat as she rolled
over.  Reva lay sprawled on the carpet, obviously dead.  This time for
sure.  Matthew was charging forward into the room.

"Are you all right?"  They both shouted the urgent question at the same
time.

Jessica scrambled up, and they met with near ex-'plosive force in the
middle of the room.  To her everlasting relief, she was in his arms and
they were hugging and kissing feverishly and trying to talk all at the
same time.

"Thank God you're safe."

"I love you."

He had said it, too.  And she stared up at him in wonder.

He drew Jessica out of the room, away from the body on the floor.

"She said you were in the bomb shelter."

"Yes.  They're all down there.  Drugged.  Sleeping."

239'

"How did you get away?"

"Would you believe there's something good that came from having been
addicted?  "He swallowed hard.  "I knew Reva had given me a narcotic
because I recognized the effects--and I was able to fight them off.
Mostly."

"Are you really all right?"

"I think so.  But if I start to nod off, give me a swift kick in the
rear."

"I'd rather give you a hug."  And she did, clinging to him for a few
seconds.

"How did you get out?"

"At first I was too foggy to do anything besides pound on the door in
frustration.  Then I found the lock mechanism.  I guess Reva wasn't
worried about a bunch of zombies mounting an escape."

"Reva was my half sister," she said disbelievingly.  Her eyes seemed to
stare, as if she was searching for answers, for reasons that would
explain everything that had happened.  "Oh, Matthew, you were right.
She hated my father--my whole family."

"I heard her while I was sneaking into position with her bat."  He held
up the controller.

"How did you know how to operate it?"

"No problem, once I got close enough to one to see how it worked.  You
pick up a lot of miscellaneous information when you're a writer."

Jessica grinned.  Then she sobered.  "We're still trapped here."

"No.  Reva had a shortwave radio stashed in the bomb shelter.  I called
the cops.  They should have been here by now.  I guess the flood has
obliterated the usual landmarks."

"We'd better go down and see what we can do for the others."

"Right."

This time Jessica didn't hesitate at the basement steps.  "I'm sorry. I
didn't want to believe it was Reva," she said as they descended.  "I
trusted her."

"She planned this very carefully--for years, apparently.  And she
didn't leave.  much to chance.  Re, member I was wondering how the
steps were broken.  Well, I sent the wood to a lab and got back a
report just before we came out here.  Reva used acid to eat through
them."

'"More information you were withholding?"

"Would it have made you feel any better?"

"She'd even built up her strength enough to haul around grown men."

"That's right!  I remember when I was carrying my luggage, she was
picking up things I couldn't begin to lift."

"The most diabolical part of her scheme was making sure you were
friends, that you'd rely on her."

"How could anyone play a role like that day after day, month after
month?  She killed a man and was planning to kill the rest of you all
to drive me crazy and make me look like a murderer.  How could anyone
hate that much?"  Jessica whispered.  "If she'd only come to me--we
could have been friends.  We~ could have pooled our talents. 
Instead"

"I guess wanting to get even with you must have been fed to her with
her mother's milk.  She believed everything she heard, because she
didn't have much choice."  He sighed.  "The traumas of childhood can
have a disastrous effect on the rest of your life."

She found his hand.  "But you can get over them--with help."

"Jessie"

Now that they were safe she wanted to find out ex-acfiy what he was
thinking.  But they'd come to the entrance to the shelter.  She gasped
as she saw the drugged cast members strewn around the room like
discarded cord wood.

Jessica covered them with blankets while she and Matthew waited for the
police.  Finally they heard the whir of helicopter blades and Griffon
went up to direct the police and medical team' to the shelter.

The drugged actors were evacuated directly to the hospital.

"I'll bet none of them will want to film the movie," Jessica'murmured
as she watched one of the reedivac helicopters take off.

He pressed her close.  "You might be surprised.  But if they back out,
I'll help you find .r~lacements."

She turned to him, her eyes bright.  "You mean you'd go ahead with
it?"

"Oh, yes.  And I'm going to find you some real money, so you can stop
operating on a shoestring.  With all the publicity we're bound to get
from this, the film should be a big hit.  So with our next project, we
can pull out all the stops."

Jessica felt her stomach tighten.  Matthew wanted to keep working with
her.  Would he agree to her terms?

While they waited for their transportation to come back, he led her
into the den and closed the door.  "Sometimes a man and a woman get
together for the wrong reasons," he said.

Her heart stopped.

"I mean me and Gwen," he clarified in a hollow voice.  "I can see now
that the relationship wouldn't have lasted.  But I wanted to cling to
the tragedy of her death, because that was the strongest emotion I
could feel."

"Why are you always so hard on yourself?"  "I'm being honest,
finally."

She took him in her arms, and he nuzzled his lips against her h air.

"Jessica, I knew you were the right woman for me as soon as we started
exchanging those dueling faxes.  But, with my track record, I was
afraid of getting involved."

"In this case, not getting involved would have been fatal.  Reva was
waiting for her chance to get me.  Your being on the scene was the only
thing that slowed her down and finally stopped her."

"You weren't doing too badly."

"I was too trusting to be a match for her.  I needed you."  She gulped.
"But I do have a few reservations about the future."

He went very still.  "Oh?"

Her heart had star~l to pound, but she went on quickly.  "About our
professional relationship.  If we're going to work together after
Midnight Kiss."

"What reservations?"  he asked carefully.

"Well, happy endings are important to me, and in your books, it doesn't
always work out that way.  What if in our future projects, I want to
give the main characters a wonderful life together, and you don't see
it that way?"

He let out the breath he'd been holding.  "I think I can be
persuaded."

"In real life?  Not just in books or the movies?"  She watched his
eyes.  The eyes never lied.  ,

His were like shining new stars.  "In real life," he said in a strong,
steady voice.

'~Oh, Matthew.  "

"You name it.  Marriage.  Kids.  A movie production company.  A
vacation house in Maine.  A world class camper.  A"

She laughed.  "All of those--for starters.  And love."  '

"Especially love."

Epilogue

From the Baltimore Sun

Midnight Kiss Bites into Vampire Legend Move over Dracula and Lestat.
There's a new contender for the title of king of the vampires.  You can
catch him in Midnight Kiss, the extraordinary movie filmed right here
in Baltimore, which opened in a star-studded world premiere at the
Senator Theater last night.

Most novel-to-movie translations are destined to disappoint those who
have already read the book.  Not so with this fruitful collaboration
between Jessica Adams, daughter of legendary film director Cedric
Adams, and best selling novelist Matthew Griffon.  It isn't often that
a novelist and director appear to understand each other so perfectly.
Mr.  Griffon wrote a script that preserves the plot and characters of
his disturbing novel yet opens up the story with cinematic awareness.
And Ms.  Adams has brought his brooding prose to life in a series of
telling images that will haunt the viewers as effectively as the
author's words haunt the reader.

But as much credit for this fine film goes to the cast as to the author
and director.  Tom Carnegie, who plays the vampire, is the linchpin who
holds the ensemble together.  He took over the role from soap star
Perry Dunmore, who left the cast due to conflicting contract agreements
after production was delayed last March.  It's hard to imagine anyone
doing a more superb job bringing Mr.  Griffon's antihero--who like the
other characters remains nameless throughout the book and novel--to
life.  Blond and blue-eyed, Carnegie is the exact opposite of the dark
destroyer whose obsidian gaze and coal-black locks are as much a part
of the Dracula cliche as his fangs.  Yet he manages to convince us that
he is the embodiment of this tortured soul who feeds on his victim's
emotions as greedily as their blood.  And the depth of his performance
perfectly conveys the vampire's moral ambiguity.  In the end, we see
him as much a victim as a destroyer.  Heather Nielson and Diedre
Rollins play a mother and daughter who are seduced--if that is
precisely the right word--in turn by the vampire.  That the jaded,
world weary mother and the dewy fresh daughter both fall under his
spell is both the irony and tragedy of the movie.  Judging from her
performance, Nielson has a bright future ahead of her.  And Rollins
should win an Oscar nomination for best-supporting actress.

The only minor disappointment in the cast is veteran actor Edward
Vanesco, who plays the husband and father as though he has wandered in
from a production of Sink the Titanic.  But he comes through when it
counts, in the scene where he walks in on his wife in the arms of the
vampire, and assumes he's interrupted a lover's tryst.

The film is as thought provoking as any of Mr.  Griffon's books,
although astute readers will note some subtle changes in the ending.
And moviegoers will be glad to hear that.  he and Ms.  Adams are
already working on another project--a retelling of his Last Train to
Eden.  It's an inhouse collaboration since Mr.  Griffon is rumored to
have moved into Ms.  Adams's high-rise apartment.