Lisa Lane

The Darkness and the Night: Blood and Coffee

A Ravenous Romance™ Fantastica™ Original Publication

A Ravenous Romance™ Original Publication
www.ravenousromance.com

The Darkness and the Night: Blood and Coffee

Copyright © 2009 by Lisa Lane

Ravenous Romance™
100 Cummings Center
Suite 125G
Beverly, MA 01915

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

ISBN: 13: 978-1-60777-129-6

This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter One

They moved together, grinding and seizing, their bodies slick with sweat from the summer heat. He kissed her tenderly, feeling her long, soft hair through his fingers, taking her into his arms as he continued to power into her. She wrapped her long legs around him, taking him close, moaning lightly. She dug her nails into his back as she tensed, savoring him, prompting him to move harder and faster. Their eyes met, their faces tight, their breaths measured and heavy as they came together, lost in hot, heavy passion.

She found her clit, wet and ready, and massaged herself rigorously as they pushed and worked into one another. She took him in, deep and defiantly. A loud cry escaped her, as he beat in even harder, and a low, pleasured groan emanated from him. They held one another tightly, sweating and trembling. They collapsed into one another, their hearts pounding and their bodies faint. He pulled out of her, and then slumped over to her side, catching his breath.

Karen lay on her back, enjoying the cool breeze that suddenly picked up through the open window, brushing over her sweaty body. “I love you, Jeff,” she said.

He swallowed hard, seemingly unable speak.

“This trip is going to be great,” she added, the silence killing her. “You’re going to love the old Victorian.”

“About that,” he began, pausing for a moment to find his words.

Karen felt a painful flutter in her chest, suddenly understanding his hesitation. She thought to speak, to find some magic line that might hold him to her and make everything okay. Instead, she held her tongue and waited for the inevitable.

“I’m not going with you,” he said with a sigh, imposing more pain into his words than Karen knew could be genuine.

“It’s my father, isn’t it?” she asked, her throat going tight.

“No…it’s me. I just need some time, I guess,” he said, although she knew it was more than that. “I think we should break up.”

She got up from his bed, finding her clothes, fighting tears. “And you waited until the last minute to tell me this? Why?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Good job with that!” Karen dressed quickly, storming around the dorm, negotiating moving boxes and packed bags in search of her shoes. “I have a twelve-hour drive ahead of me! Now I have to do it alone?” She wiped at her tears, unable to hold them back.

“I wanted to tell you before, but…” he paused, seemingly at a loss. Suddenly looking embarrassed, he disposed of his condom and slipped on his boxers.

“But you wanted to get laid one last time!” she growled, finding her shoes and angrily mashing her feet into them.

“That’s not fair!”

“Don’t you tell me what’s not fair!” Karen searched the tiny room for miscellaneous items that she knew were hers, and then grabbed her purse and stormed to the door. “Have a nice life!”

Karen spent the entire long, lonely drive replaying the scenario in her mind, recapping what each of them had said, coming up with retorts she wished she might have thrown back at him when she had the chance. She wondered if she could have found a way to salvage the relationship but she reminded herself that a partnership that wasn’t reciprocal wasn’t really a partnership at all. She would only end up hurting herself if she tried to hang onto a man who just didn’t want her anymore. It was over, and it was for the best, as painful as that realization was. They had spent two wonderful years together in grad school and now it was time to move on.

The hours dragged on the tedious drive with numerous cups of take-out coffee being her only companion. She always thought better with a coffee in hand, her years of working as a barista at the college café having given her a special appreciation for the brew. By the time Karen reached her destination, she had come to terms with the fact that a new chapter of her life had begun, and it was her choice either to mourn the past or embrace the future.

Karen stretched her tired legs and stepped out of the car. She gazed at the old Victorian house. An unexpected mix of reflection, sadness, and detachment came over her as she leaned up against the side of the car, remembering the house in much better condition when she last saw it just a few years earlier. Kept privately by the family for its generations of childhood memories, the house had been shuffled through various family members before it eventually become Karen’s family’s vacation home.

Karen recently graduated with a master’s degree in English, although she had no idea yet what she was going to do with it. While her family was pushing her to teach, Karen secretly hoped to write the next great American novel. This summer was her last free ride before she would have to stand on her own two feet and leave the security of her parents for good. She hoped she might be able to take advantage of the quiet, remote location to relax and catch up with her family while paying whatever attention she could to her muse and her trusty laptop.

Karen walked up the narrow pathway, toward the steps at the front of the veranda, and surveyed the vast property. The house sat on several acres of now unkempt land, resting awkwardly against the foothill of a small mountain. Tall oak trees grew on either side of the house and thick overgrowth came clear up to the veranda on all four sides. A cool, clear stream ran off in the distance, pooling into a small private lake just visible from the front of the house.

Karen moved to the front door. She knew it would be locked, but decided to try it anyway. It figured that she would rush to get there, only to wait for the rest of the family to arrive with the key. She walked the length of the veranda, questioning the structural integrity of the old house as she got a closer look. It was a shame that her family had allowed the house to fall into such terrible condition. A few years ago, Karen’s dad had a falling out with Aaron, the house’s hired caretaker and long-time family friend. Aaron had kept the house three quarters of each year, doing repairs and keeping the yard directly around the house manicured and watered in exchange for a free roof over his head. A horrifying and embarrassing string of events, most of which neither of Karen’s parents were willing to talk about, led to Aaron leaving the house to rot. Karen’s father had been in the wrong, that much she knew. He had let her in on his little delusion before his rampage: he had believed that Aaron and his entire family were vampires. Karen could only imagine what horrific act her father had performed to land him in a mental institution for so long, but it led to the house being abandoned for some time.

Now the outside of the house was lined with long strips of old, discolored paint peeling and curling all along once-smooth, perfectly white wooden walls and beams. Several shingles were visibly missing from the roof. The rain gutters overflowed with leaves and other debris. Karen crossed the veranda and peeked through one of the front windows. Thick curtains hung behind the dusty, time-warped glass.

She peered through a tiny crack between the two heavy layers of opaque material, squinting in her attempt to survey the living room. The room was dark and Karen could hardly make out the silhouettes of sheet-covered furniture. She hadn’t expected to see anyone in there, and yet a wave of disappointment hit her just the same when she saw the dark, empty room.

With a sigh, she sat down on a bench built into the side of the veranda. She was already feeling impatient and eager to unpack her car and settle in for the summer. Despite the past issues and the house’s shaky condition, Karen hoped that the family’s stay this time around would be cathartic and refreshing. She knew she wouldn’t really be able to relax until the family came and she could see for herself that her father was no longer a raving lunatic. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

A light breeze picked up, adding a faint chill to the late afternoon air. Karen pulled her thick, dark hair into a knot, hoping to spare it from the wind’s wrath, and then searched her purse for some lipstick. She had not seen anyone in her family for close to a year, and her last visit with her father had been terribly strained due to his unfortunate mental condition. Her mother promised that he was in much better shape now, though, claiming that his doctors had finally found just the right combination of medications. Her mother insisted that he hadn’t spoken of his delusion for months. Finally, he was himself again.

This would likely be Karen’s last summer vacation with the family for a while. She knew that she had a life of her own waiting somewhere out there, once she found her place in the world. She knew that her parents and brother would ultimately have only a small place in that new life. Feeling bittersweet about both the summer and her future, Karen was glad for the opportunity to find some closure to the hell they had all endured throughout the past few years. Perhaps the trip would be healing for everyone, she hoped with a smile, remembering lazy summer days, cool swims behind the house, and breathtaking sunsets on the veranda. Even if this trip ended up proving less than memorable, she reminded herself that she still had good memories of this place, memories that didn’t have to fade simply because unpleasant ones overshadowed them.

Karen grabbed her purse as her cell phone began to ring, seeing from the Caller I.D. that it was her mother. She quickly answered. “Hello?”

“Karen?” her mother asked, the connection threatening to cut. “Can you hear me?”

“Barely.”

“Where are you?” her mother’s voice crackled.

Karen glanced at the empty dirt road that disappeared off into the horizon. “I’m at the house. Where are you?”

“What?” her mother yelled.

“Where are you?” Karen repeated, yelling into her phone.

“There’s a fire at Yosemite,” her mother said, her words barely audible as the phone connection continued to cut in and out. “We had to take a detour.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “You’re still all the way up there? You know I don’t have a key!”

“Oh, you’re already at the house?”

“I told you I was!” Karen growled, the choppy conversation frustrating her even more than the prospect of spending the entire night out on the veranda with the mosquitoes and June bugs.

“You can break in really easy through the back door,” her mother said, and then added apologetically, “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Break in?”

Her mother gave a frustrated huff. “There’s just the chain. You can get it off with a coat hanger or a stick when you crack open the door.”

“Okay,” Karen said, annoyed. “Why did you guys get such a late start?”

“Honey, you’re cutting out. We’ll see you sometime tomorrow,” her mother said, and then the connection dropped.

With a disappointed sigh, Karen threw her phone back into her purse and went to the back of the house to take a look at the door. Tall, twisting oak trees shaded the entire back side of the house, accentuating the sudden darkness coming in from the southwest horizon. Heavy clouds threatened rain and lighting in the distance and a black haze slowly grew, as smoke from a wildfire hundreds of miles away blew in with the breeze.

Karen tried the back door, finding it unlocked but secured by a slip-chain. Thankful that she had brought some of her clothes on wire hangers, she ran back to her car.

She froze as it seemed that a curtain behind one of the dark windows overlooking over the veranda had moved. She stared at the window, watching it for any further movement, but she saw nothing. She was probably just tired considering the drive she just made from her dorm back in Nevada. She rushed to make it across the state, perhaps a little too eager to leave her past behind her. Just to be safe, however, she readied her mace as she contorted the coat hanger through the partially open back door.

As her mother promised, the door unlocked easily. Karen slowly searched the downstairs rooms, mace in hand, carefully clearing every area. Satisfied that no one was down there, she searched the upstairs just as thoroughly before returning to her car for her luggage. She made sure that she was locked in as securely as possible and then made her way up to her bedroom.

She set her belongings down and slipped a large, dusty white sheet off the elegant king-sized bed. The headboard was carved out of deep mahogany and the frame lifted the entire bed several feet off the ground. There was a tall, matching footboard and wooden drawers along the sides of the bed in place of a dresser. On the adjacent wall a matching desk, mirror, and vanity table finished the set, sitting along the far wall between two windows that overlooked a vast field of overgrowth and old trees.

Karen jumped onto the bed and laid back for a moment, stretching, relaxing, and enjoying the silence. She decided that her family’s tardiness might very well be a blessing in disguise. With no distractions, she might find the inspiration to get started on her novel. Ideas had been brewing for some time now, but she had yet to get anything substantial down on paper. It seemed that there was always something more pressing to do, between work and school. It felt good to have some time to herself and she hoped she would be able to put at least some of it to good use.

The evening slowly settled in. As the sun began to set, Karen was relieved that the bedroom lamp was still in good working order. Annoyed that there would be no food in the house until her family arrived, Karen grazed on tortilla chips, mixed nuts, and soda -- all the snack food she had left from her drive. There was a mom and pop convenience store about twenty miles down the road and within a few miles of that was a truck stop with a gas station and a small diner that served excessively greasy food. The only other establishments in the area were ranches and private homes, all situated several miles apart from one another.

Karen stared at the blank document on her laptop monitor. Her stomach growled and she cursed the fact that there were no Chinese restaurants or pizza parlors close enough to deliver to the old house. As far as she knew, there wasn’t a decent place to eat within a fifty-mile radius of the place.

Determined to have something to show for her time, Karen began to force a few words onto the screen before her: My father was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia three years ago. He snapped one night and, from what I can piece together, he killed a man and then the men in white coats put him away.

Frustrated, Karen erased the sentence, once again staring at a blank screen. She tried once more, deciding this time to shift her person and write her story as a piece of fiction: Sharon was a beautiful and intelligent young woman, with long, dark hair and her father’s subtle blue eyes. Although Sharon was undoubtedly disturbed, she was so far spared the horrific mental illness that surfaced in her family just a few years ago.

Karen turned as she saw something move past her window out of the corner of her eye. She got up and went to the window, thinking that perhaps she had seen an owl flying outside. She looked out, scanning in all directions, seeing nothing but darkness. With a cold chill running down her spine, she closed the curtains and went back to her desk.

Karen jumped with a startled gasp as there was a knock at the front door. Snatching the mace from her purse, she quietly moved down the staircase, flipped on the porch light, and opened the front door as far as the latched chain would allow. She peeked out, not recognizing the man peeking back at her from the other side.

A good-looking man in his early forties stood on the welcome mat, grinning as he took an uncomfortably close look at Karen’s face through the inch-wide opening. He had a pale complexion, blue eyes, and short platinum hair, prompting Karen to wonder if perhaps the man was an albino.

Aaron had been an albino, at least from what Karen could recollect.

The strange man smiled at Karen, his face warm and suave. “Is this the Miller residence, by chance?” he asked.

Immediately suspecting a connection between this man and Aaron, Karen felt uneasy about giving him any information. The thought that Aaron or his family would somehow know to find her family there this summer was a bit paranoid, and even more disturbing was the thought that they would send a relative over to…to do what, even the score? Karen shifted back slightly, adding some much-needed distance between them. “Who’s asking?”

“My name’s Mark,” he said. “I’m one of your neighbors, an old friend of Ron’s. You wouldn’t happen to know Ron, would you?”

“He’s my father,” Karen said, catching herself only after she finished offering the quick piece of information. Her heart sped up as something about the way Mark glared at her suddenly came off as unsettling.

“Is he around, by chance?” Mark asked, taking a quick, nervous look behind him.

Karen thought for a moment, trying to find some way around answering the strange man’s question.

“Are you here all by yourself, sweetie?” he asked as he turned back to her, his demeanor shifting from unsettling to creepy.

“My family’s at the store,” she quickly said, almost choking over her words. “They’ll be back soon.”

Mark cocked his head, clearly not believing her. “I see.” He shifted a rogue lock of pale hair from his eyes as his face contorted with thought. “Is something the matter?”

Karen shook her head, although she was clearly shaking. She had her mace ready, hidden in her hand behind the door. Mark was very handsome and Karen couldn’t help but get lost in his piercing blue eyes. She simply stared, unsure what to say or do next. The mace slipped from her hand, but she didn’t move to retrieve it. Instead, she found herself toying with the lock on the door. The thought suddenly occurred to her that she was being an awful neighbor and she should invite Mark in for a cool glass of iced tea… but then she realized that she didn’t have any iced tea.

Karen turned away, unsure of what just came over her. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come back later.” She closed the door and quickly locked the deadbolt. She leaned against the door, grabbing her mace, hoping Mark would simply go away if she ignored him long enough.

Or, perhaps he would figure out for himself how easy it was to break in through the back door.

Karen was afraid to move and stayed where she was for some time. She thought to go upstairs and get her phone, but she wasn’t sure that 911 even worked that far out. Even if she did connect to a local sheriff’s office, how long would it take for its officers to find her? What would she say?

Sorry to waste your valuable time, Officer, but my neighbor is creeping me out; could please you tell him to go away?

Karen moved to a window and peeked out. To her surprise, the man was gone. Quickly watching to make sure that no one returned, she opened the front door and carefully searched the overgrowth in all directions. Seeing nothing, she closed the door, made sure it was secure, and went to the back of the house. She reinforced the back door with a chair from the dining room set, went upstairs, and locked herself in her bedroom. She pulled her phone from her purse and set it on her desk, her ears growing vigilant of every sound that creaked through the old house. She sat down in front of her laptop and proceeded to stare at her screen saver, not sure if she would have it in her to do any writing that night.

Chapter Two

Karen had a difficult time sleeping that night. Somehow, it seemed wrong that she tossed and turned in the elegant, pillow-soft bed as if she were attempting to sleep on a sheet of rock. She couldn’t help but feel on edge, however, and every sound had her ready to spring to her phone. Finally, she moved both phone and mace to the pillow beside her, her mind weary.

With the thick curtains drawn tightly shut and all of the lights out, the room was pitch black. Karen found herself imagining the most unreal scenarios and letting the darkness get the better of her. The house continued to creak and settle, and the wind picked up outside. A loud thump from the outside of one of her bedroom windows sent Karen reaching for her mace and holding her breath. Her eyes went wide and she searched blindly through the darkness, her body going frozen with fear. She reminded herself that she was a rational adult, not easily spooked by imagined threats and bumps in the night.

A light scratching sound coming from the same window suddenly caught Karen’s ears. She forced herself to her feet, determined that she would not succumb to what she knew were purely irrational fears. Feeling her way through the darkness, she slowly moved to the window. She felt the curtains and paused to take a quick breath of encouragement.

She slowly grasped the heavy curtains with both hands and in one quick sweep she flung them open. With the moonlight gently glowing overhead, an obscure, pale, ghostly face stared in at Karen through the thin, warped glass, its eyes glowing against the moonlight. Karen staggered back with a horrified scream.

“Are you still all alone, sweetie?” it asked, its hushed voice all but lost by the wind kicking up outside.

The window burst open, the thick curtains thrashing about in a sudden, heavy wind, as the creature heaved itself through the window and onto Karen.

Karen sat up in bed with a gasp, taking a moment to reorient herself. When had she fallen asleep? She breathed hard, her heart beating heavy and quick. She stared through the darkness, the spectral image in her nightmare flashing through her mind and sending her into a sudden panic. She noticed that the room was warm and stuffy. Her entire body was damp with sweat and she thought to open a window. However, a sudden, heavy, fear kept her in place.

Knowing that she was reacting no better than a young child, hysterical over an imagined monster under the bed, she forced herself to her feet and slowly moved to the window. Her hands shaking, she felt for the break between the curtains and quickly threw them open. She stared through the window, seeing nothing in the moonlight beyond the twisted shadows created by the stocky oak tree just outside.

She went to the other window and opened those curtains, as well. The small amount of light washing in made the room feel just slightly less ominous. Slowly and hesitantly, she unlocked and opened the window closest to her bed. Karen took a moment to savor the light breeze that now brushed up against her damp skin. She looked out over the roof to the veranda, confident that no one could have access to her window without a sturdy ladder. She shivered with a quick, sudden chill, and quickly retreated back to the bed. Curling up with a light sheet against a short mountain of pillows, she lay back, hoping she might get comfortable now that the room wasn’t so stuffy.

Shadows shifted back and forth across the windows as the trees gently moved with the wind. Karen expected at any moment for the long, pale face to appear once more through the window, even though she knew that the image she struggled to wipe from her mind was merely the figment of a bad dream.

She settled into the soft mattress, telling herself to be an adult, to stop watching for the boogeyman, to close her eyes, and to get some sleep. She held her hand near her phone as she lay against the increasingly uncomfortable pillows. Her eyes insisted upon opening every few minutes and her mind was unable to relax completely with the window ajar. Deciding that she would rather deal with a stuffy room than her own paranoid vigilance, she got back up with a frustrated huff and moved back to the open window.

She rested up against the window pane, enjoying the breeze for just a moment longer as she looked down at the overgrowth surrounding the veranda. To her surprise, Mark and a young man in his early twenties with similar fair features stood on the ground below. Both of them looked up at Karen, as she stared back at them with fear and revulsion, horrified at the realization that her paranoia had not been unfounded. Had they been stalking her all day? What were they doing down there?

The young man quickly made eye contact and, for some reason, Karen suddenly couldn’t help but stare back, captivated by the way the moonlight reflected against his pale blue eyes. Without turning away for even a moment, he leapt up several feet, grabbed the roof of the veranda, and somehow vaulted himself up with one nimble twist of his body.

Karen took a moment to process what the young man had just done, convinced that her eyes had played some type of twisted trick on her. The young man stood for a moment at the edge of the first story roof, losing himself in her gaze.

Karen stared back, motionless, as the young man slowly advanced up to her window. She thought to pull the panels shut and quickly lock him out as she watched him approach, but for some reason she didn’t move a muscle. A sudden rush of panic hit her as the young man let himself in effortlessly and without any resistance. She felt the impulse to make a dash for her mace, but instead she continued to stare into the young man’s enchanting blue eyes, motionless and terrified.

He had longer hair than Mark, with finer features and a slighter build. His eyes gave off a less threatening air and his lean, white face was softer and much more relaxed than the older man’s, although his presence still had Karen weak and dizzy with panic.

She shivered as her eyes slowly welled up and her throat went tight. “Is this another nightmare?” Karen asked, forcing out her words, barely able to push them beyond a heavy whisper.

“Is it?” the young man asked.

The two continued to stare at one another, and Karen found her body unresponsive as she willed her limbs to move her away from the man. She took a deep, shaky breath, finding that she was unable to turn away from him. He stood only inches from her, getting a close look at the fine details of her face. Now, she saw that the young man no longer appeared to be human -- his long, sharp teeth were horrifying and surreal.

“I want to wake up,” she continued, a tear streaking down one of her cheeks.

“Don’t worry. You will,” he replied, gently wiping away the tear.

Karen closed her eyes, slightly disoriented as his eyes left her and the two of them abruptly brushed cheeks. She found her mind empty and unresponsive as his grip closed around the hair at the back of her head, holding her still as his teeth found her neck. The sensation of fire and tearing flesh caused her knees to fail on her almost immediately, and the two of them slowly lowered to the plush, carpeted floor as her body went weak and she became dead weight in his arms. Unable to move beyond the uncontrollable writhing that had taken over her arms and legs, it was all Karen could to do continue to breathe through the immobilizing pain. She gasped and choked, moaning and crying out with each exhale, until everything around her finally dulled and faded into darkness.

Chapter Three

Karen slowly woke to the sound of her cellular phone ringing. Her vision blurred in the dim room as she forced her eyes open and worked to orient herself. She tried to sit up, but her body burned and shook with the strain of the attempt. Her eyes slowly focused as she continued to feel for her phone. She realized that her phone had been moved from her pillow to a nearby nightstand and her mace had gone missing altogether. The phone stopped ringing and then beeped to let her know that she had a new voice mail message.

The muscles in the side of her neck seized up on her as she tried to look around the room. Strangely, both of the windows were shut, the curtains closed tight, and her bedroom door was now wide open. Remembering small fragments of what happened last night, Karen brought a shaky hand to the side of her neck. To her surprise, there was a generous amount of scar tissue along one side, although it still felt as though she had a deep, open wound there every time she tried to move. Her body felt weak, battered, achy, and sick. Karen cried out with the terrifying thought that she may very well have fallen victim to her father’s delusions. She knew the possibility existed --that it could strike at any time -- although up until this point she thought that she had beaten the odds.

She sobbed, not only because the prospect of insanity was terrifying, but also because what she experienced last night felt so terribly real. Never again would she pass judgment on her father for reacting the way he had, as horrifying as his actions had been. More importantly, never again would she be able to take for granted that anything was as she perceived it to be. Even now, with her body barely able to move, she realized that she needed to find some way to bring herself back to reality. She needed to tell herself that none of what she was experiencing was real…she needed to reclaim control of her muscles, ignore the pain, reach over to the nightstand, and pick up her phone.

She struggled once more to sit up, and with a frustrated cry, she lay back feeling angry and defeated. She had no idea what time it was, but from the thin wisps of light peeking in between the curtains she could tell that it was sometime in the morning or afternoon. The room began to spin and she closed her eyes, frustrated and ready to scream. She was confronting her delusion head on; why was it persisting?

Karen found it interesting that, while her father’s delusion had put him in the role of vampire hunter, hers placed her as a victim of the creatures. She wondered if that could be analyzed as something significant about her, perhaps a cryptic reflection of just how sick her inner psyche was. She shuddered at the thought, wishing it away. She slowly moved her hand back to her neck, feeling the scar tissue with her fingertips, and suddenly wondered if maybe she actually had been attacked by something last night.

Mark had mentioned her father by name.

Regardless, it was all real enough in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder how real it would be to her father once he arrived. Would he be able to tell from the look in her eyes that something terrible had happened? Would her scars be real enough to him, also? Would her slip prompt him to snap again?

Exhausted, but too apprehensive to sleep, Karen waited for her family’s arrival. The minutes passed slowly, the hours crawling by as if the next might never come. Karen watched as the small streaks of light coming in through the curtains slowly waned. Her phone rang several times, but she simply couldn’t summon the energy to answer it. She hoped that her family would identify that something was wrong and get to the house as quickly as possible, but evening came and they still had not arrived.

The room began to grow dark and the moonlight soon filtered in. Karen slowly turned as she heard footsteps coming from the hallway. Her sanity on the line, she watched the open door, praying for a friendly face.

The young man entered slowly. Karen’s heart dropped as he came up to her and leaned against the side of the bed.

“Good. You’re alive,” he said.

“None of this is real,” Karen whispered, choking up.

The young man picked up Karen’s cell phone, dialed her voice mail number from memory, and keyed in her secret code at the prompt.

“How do you know my password?” Karen asked, both annoyed and apprehensive.

The young man ignored her, listening to and deleting several messages. He disconnected the call and pocketed the phone. Karen gave a frustrated cry as she tried and failed once more to sit up.

“Your mom called,” he said, going to the window and signaling to someone outside. “It seems they’ve been having a hell of a time, first with the fire at Yosemite, and then getting lost in the detour…it doesn’t look like they’re going to be here until tomorrow evening, maybe even later. Too bad. On the bright side, the welcome wagon will be set in plenty of time to give Ron the show of his life.” He watched for a signal back, mumbled something under his breath, and returned to Karen’s side.

Karen turned away from him. “No one knows my password.”

The young man chuckled. “I do.”

“That’s because you’re not real,” Karen said as she closed her eyes.

“My name’s Billy,” he said, sounding somewhat insulted.

Karen opened her eyes, glaring at him peripherally. He stared back at her, working to regain eye contact, but Karen refused to glance back over at him.

“None of this was my idea,” Billy continued, his voice insistent.

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” she said, unsure exactly why she was taking the time to respond to him.

“I thought it would be best just to kill you and be done with it,” he said, his voice flat. He moved away from the bed, and Karen thought that perhaps he was actually going to leave. Instead, he started poking through her belongings.

Karen turned her head, giving him a sharp look. Her impulse was to get up, but she knew that attempting to move any more than she just had would be an effort made in vain. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, finally looking him in the eyes.

Billy shrugged. “It was my father’s idea to keep you alive. He’s just twisted that way.”

Karen did not respond, instead she slightly raised her brow to relay her continued confusion.

“Human beings don’t generally adapt very well to being turned,” he said sympathetically. “I’ve seen it done a few times. It’s unfortunate, but it usually doesn’t work out very well.”

Karen closed her eyes and wished she were still asleep. “I’m lost. You’re not making any sense.”

“No, you’re just clueless,” he said shortly, and then added with a slight hint of contempt, “most people are.” He turned on her laptop with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know why I have to be the one to stay here with you and do all the work,” he muttered.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Karen said, the situation becoming too surreal for her to continue participating in. She closed her eyes, trying once more to ignore him.

Billy pulled up Karen’s most recent document and read the first sentence out loud: “Sharon was a beautiful and intelligent young woman, with long, dark hair, and her father’s subtle blue eyes.” He turned to Karen. “Who’s Sharon?”

Karen remained silent.

“Rhymes with Karen,” he mused.

She gave an annoyed huff.

Billy looked through various other documents, mostly essays Karen had written back in school and letters she had written to her father when he was living in the hospital. Finding nothing too horribly interesting, he found the computer’s virtual solitaire and began to play.

Karen suddenly became overwhelmed by an intense pang of hunger. Unprepared for the sensation and already feeling desperate for relief, her first response was to make yet another attempt at sitting up. Her stomach fell into a tight cramp and a terrible stabbing sensation moved through the core of her body. Every time she tried to move a hot, shaky feeling tore through her muscles, leaving her exhausted and feeling utterly powerless.

“Still ignoring me over there?” Billy asked.

Karen did not look over, still trying to convince herself that she might will away Billy’s presence if she wanted him gone badly enough. The physical agony grew too intense for her, however, and finally she considered the possibility that something terrible really was happening to her. Perhaps she had fallen horribly ill and was suffering from a high fever. A sick gasp escaped her as she considered the possibility that she wasn’t suffering from a delusion at all. Was it possible? What would that mean for her? What would become of her and her family? “If you’re real,” Karen said, her eyes tearing up, “please just put me out of my misery right now!”

Billy closed the laptop, and leisurely made his way back to Karen’s bedside. “You want to die?”

The two made eye contact and Karen stared silently for a moment. Tight spasms rolled through her, and she tensed up, crying out. She shook her head, knowing that it was relief, not death, that she really wanted, but relief simply seemed too far off for her to be able to consider. “I can’t stand this!” she finally replied. “I’m feel like I’m dying, anyway!”

Billy rolled his eyes, not too horribly moved by her pained display. “You’re not dying. It takes weeks to starve to death.”

Unable to contain herself any longer, Karen began to scream and cry, writhing weakly beneath the sheets.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you!” Billy snapped, refusing to turn away from his solitaire game. “Get hold of yourself!”

Karen continued to scream, the pain and discomfort seething throughout her body becoming more than she could bear.

“For crying out loud!” Billy snapped, his patience growing thin. He stormed over and, to her surprise, climbed up onto the bed and straddled her over the sheets.

“What are you doing?” Karen screamed. It suddenly occurred to her, as this strange man sat over her, how helpless she truly was. God only knew what Billy planned on doing to her, and there was nothing she could do about it. “Please don’t hurt me!” she quickly added, fighting hyperventilation.

Billy stared into her eyes and she went silent. “You’re just hungry. You’ll get used to it, if you live long enough.”

“I’ve finally lost it,” Karen said, tears streaming down her face. Her body seized up, and a horrific, anguished sound emanated from deep within her.

“My dad said he’d kill me if I fed you,” Billy said, a spark of sympathy showing through from behind his apathetic face.

She caught his eyes once more as she cried out, “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

He leaned to whisper into her ear, and she shivered as he exhaled and his breath hit her neck. “I don’t want any more trouble,” Billy said, the smell of her hitting him like perfume as he stole a quick whiff, tempting him just to finish her off right then and there.

She caught his scent for a moment, her senses seemingly getting unhinged with this new insanity taking over her. The scent coming from him was heavy and musky. It hung thickly in the air between them, enticing her to search for an even stronger sample. She couldn’t help but give into temptation, and yet her exhausted muscles reminded her that she could not move. “Why am I so weak?”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he said, his words were matter-of-fact and almost condescending.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked, unsure what else to say. A new slew of tears streaked down her face.

They made eye contact again and her eyes pleaded with him for some type of relief.

Billy turned away, moving off her and returning to the side of the bed. “It’s nothing personal. I really think you’re a neat woman.”

“You know nothing about me,” Karen growled.

“I know more than you think.”

Karen cocked her head, her eyes challenging him.

“I know that you love Mozart just about as much as you love Metallica,” he began. “I know that you love sunsets at the beach, and that you hate crowds and spiders almost as much as you hate hypocrites.”

“How do you know?”

“Your favorite color is red.” Billy stared her down. “You’re a strict pacifist and an animal rights activist…and you hate both of your parents.”

Karen stared back, unable to respond.

“You’ve been in love before, but he broke your heart,” Billy continued, “and you fear that you will be alone forever.”

There was a moment of silence before Karen cried out once more, her eyelids fluttering as her arms weakly wrapped around her, her fingers clutched into her sides. “Please, God, let me wake up!” she shrieked.

Billy sat down beside her. “God help me,” he breathed, his heart racing. He tore his wrist open with a flinch and one quick snap of his teeth.

Karen choked and struggled as Billy brought the light, warm stream to her mouth. She couldn’t help swallowing as he persisted, and to her surprise the fire in her stomach slowly began to extinguish and her muscles began to loosen up. A warm, calm feeling soon washed away all of the pain and anguish that had filled and overwhelmed her only moments ago. She gave a surprised cry as new muscles surrounding her eye teeth contracted and she gave into the impulse to bite down, a strange yet pleasant sensation running through her as her teeth penetrated deep into his skin.

A rush of foreign thoughts and emotions flooded into her mind, most of them making no more sense to her than a vague montage or a long, strange dream. Random bits of information came to her clearly, but they were mostly benign, trivial facts about Billy that any simple conversation might provide. She became confused for a moment as to whose memories belonged to whom, and then the knowledge came to her that she was somehow taking more from Billy than just his blood. It also came to her that he was doing something mentally to limit the information she could take. A few personal thoughts and memories slipped through -- personal memories about his mother.. and a thought or two regarding the situation at hand.

Suddenly it hit her that she was willfully drinking blood from a strange man’s wrist. She fought the sudden impulse to gag, and she had no response as he pulled away from her, grabbing at his wound. She was stunned and silent over what had just taken place. He bled for only a moment before he licked the blood off his hands as his wound slowly, but visibly, began to heal. He braced himself against the bed for a moment, fighting an unexpected dizzy spell.

Karen stretched her body, feeling her strength slowly returning. She wiped the blood from her face, still questioning her sanity although she knew deep down that all she perceived that night, as well as the night before, was real. She knew that she was no longer human. There was no denying it, no defense of sanity to cling behind any longer. She was not the same; she could feel it. “Why did you do this to me?” she asked, struggling to keep her breaths slow and deliberate, fearing that she might vomit.

Billy shrugged. “Your old man pissed off a lot of people.”

“My ‘old man’ is…” Karen paused for a moment. “He really did kill a vampire?” she asked, knowing now that it had to be true.

“My Uncle Charlie,” Billy said. “My father’s brother. Aaron’s youngest son.”

Karen sat up, stretched her back and arms, and slid her feet to the floor. She took a moment to adjust to her body weight after being in bed for so long. Her muscles ached at first, but she could tell that much of her strength had already returned. She stood, a small amount of lingering dizziness causing her to stagger as she grabbed her purse and made a dash for the door.

“Where are you going?” Billy asked, moving quickly to block her path.

“Just stay away from me!”

After a moment’s thought, Billy allowed her to pass and then followed immediately behind her as she hurried down the stairs and out the front door.

Karen ran toward her car. “Back off!” she shrieked, knowing Billy was right behind her. She hurried to the driver’s side door, fumbling with her keys, surprised to see Billy idly watching her from the beginning of the walk.

Billy put his hands in his pockets, looking bored.

Karen locked herself in the car, quickly finding the key for the starter. She cranked the ignition, cursing and crying as she found that the engine would not turn over. She tried the horn, thinking that perhaps someone living far off in the distance might recognize the Morse code for S-O-S, but the horn would not sound.

Billy walked up to the passenger window and bent over to look in. “I think your battery might be dead,” he said.

Karen hit the steering wheel with an angry growl.

“Will you be sitting there all night?” he asked.

Karen stared ahead, fuming. She abruptly pocketed her keys and got out of the car, shutting the door with an angry slam.

Chapter Four

Karen looked around, noticing fine details in the fields surrounding them, realizing that her night vision had become significantly more acute. Perhaps she was imagining it, but it seemed that she was able to see subtle colors, such as a hint of yellow on her shirt and the faintest touch of blue and violet on the morning glories tangled across a patch of growth across the way. She knew that it was nearly impossible to see color in the dark, but reality seemed suddenly to allow quite a bit of the impossible.

Karen suddenly charged down the driveway and Billy abruptly stopped her.

“It’s a good twenty miles to the nearest store and your nearest neighbors are ten miles in either direction,” Billy began. “Do you think you can walk that far before the sun comes up?”

“What happens when the sun comes up?” she asked.

“I’ve only seen it a couple of times.” Billy shook his head. “It’s not a pretty sight.”

Karen responded with a sudden burst of anger. “What do you mean, not a pretty sight?”

Billy shrugged. “Well, I guess you could call it pretty if you’re into black and crispy.”

Frustrated and unwilling to take any more of Billy’s dark, aloof humor, Karen tackled him to the ground with a loud, angry cry. The two of them landed in the overgrowth off the side of the driveway. Karen sat on his chest, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “You’re not funny!” she growled.

Billy stared her down for a moment, then grabbed her by the arms, and rolled over, quickly putting her on her back. He sat across her waist, smiling at their sudden reversal of positions.

Instead of continuing the fight, Karen lay back against the overgrowth and began to scream at the top of her lungs.

“What the hell?” Billy yelled.

Karen continued to scream, and Billy covered her mouth with both hands, his canine teeth growing long and his expression threatening. “Get hold of yourself!”

Karen went silent, her eyes wide and fearful, but as soon as Billy moved his hands from her face she gave him a sad, hateful scowl. “Tell me you were lying about the sun!”

Billy gazed into her forlorn eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry.” He had never known the pleasure of sunlight against his skin, so he really had no idea what she was losing. He wasn’t sure why he worried about what she thought, but for some reason it suddenly mattered.

Mark had warned him.

Karen moved to sit up, but without another thought Billy rushed forward and kissed her. Surprised, Karen reciprocated, wrapping her arms around him and taking in his musky scent. His lips were soft against hers and his tongue was warm and sweet as it played with hers. He moved to her neck, his lips gently moving over the scarred skin, his arousal growing evident. He slowly unbuttoned her blouse, searching her chest with his calloused hands.

The sound of several footsteps coming up the driveway sent Billy spinning to his feet. He quickly helped Karen up, and then grabbed her by the wrist and rushed her out of the overgrowth.

“Keep your mouth shut and don’t try to run,” Billy quietly cautioned, nervously brushing himself off.

Karen quickly worked to button her shirt as Mark hurried up to them, accompanied by a pretty redhead around his age.

“What’s she doing out here?” Mark asked. He had a look in his eyes that clearly spoke of his sadistic character. Karen knew that Billy had not warned her to keep quiet for the sake of simplicity.

“I just thought I’d let her get some fresh air,” Billy said. “It’s not like she can go anywhere.”

“Let’s just hope no one else heard that siren scream of hers. What were you thinking?” Mark snapped. He moved over to Karen, lowering his face to hers, his eyes piercing through her. “Scream like that again and I’ll tear your throat out.” He turned to Billy with a scowl. “Get her back inside.”

The house was dim, but no one moved to turn on any lights. Karen felt certain now that her night vision had improved as she moved through the unlit entry, noticing that she could see every fine detail of every inch of the room, despite the dark. A few other people now lounged throughout the house, and Billy’s brother Jack, a towheaded young teenager, followed curiously as a small group began to amass in the kitchen.

“So, what are we looking at with our logistics?” Mark asked Billy as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

Billy slid Karen’s cell phone from his pocket, and then quickly dropped it back in. “We’ll get a call tomorrow when they’re on their way.”

“Does that mean we have to sleep in the cellar again?” Jack asked, his voice nagging.

“Never give a human the upper hand by chancing an attack during the day,” Mark said, his voice taking on the temporary air of a mentor.

“When do we get to check out the commune?” Jack asked. “This place is a dump!”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Mark answered, and then glared over at Karen and Billy.

The redhead gave Billy a suspicious look as she motioned to Karen. “How come she’s up and about?”

Billy shrugged.

“It seems someone doesn’t know how to follow directions,” Mark said, glaring at Billy. “I don’t think your new girlfriend needs to be listening in on this. Why don’t you take her upstairs and keep her occupied for a while? This time, put a sock in her mouth.” He gave Billy a devilish smile, and then turned and winked at Karen, his expression creating a cold, heavy feeling of revulsion and contempt in her, forcing a quick shudder from the core of her body.

“Come on,” Billy said, as he escorted Karen out of the room with an easy tug of the arm.

Chapter Five

Karen stormed to her desk, as Billy shut the door behind them. “What the hell was that all about?” she fumed.

“What?” Billy asked, kicking off his shoes and moving to her bed, making himself comfortable.

Karen stood by the chair with her hands on top of the backrest -- she was not quite ready to sit. “I need to know what exactly your father has planned for me and my family, once they get here?”

Billy contemplated the question for a moment.

Karen thought to charge over to him and find some way to demand a response. She scanned the room for her misplaced can of mace. Thinking better of it, she sat down, defeated. “Whatever you, or your dad, or whoever planned this wants to gain from all of this…my father is a good person, and so are my mom and my brother. Please don’t hurt them.”

“I really don’t have any say in the matter.”

“My family has been through enough, already…you have no idea,” she said. “They don’t deserve to be put through any more.”

The room went silent as Billy considered her plea. Finally, he responded, “Your father will be going to prison for brutally murdering his own family.”

“But he would never–” Karen cut herself off, realizing that Billy’s family planned on turning her mother and brother as well. The chances of her father going from docile family man to senseless executioner would be high if he suddenly found that his wife and both of his children had been claimed by the night.

“Like I said, it’s not my plan,” Billy said.

“So, you’re just going to let him kill me?” Karen asked. The thought of it stung at her.

“What do you suggest I do about it?” He looked away, clearly bothered.

Karen crossed her arms, shaking her head with disappointment and grief. “You’re an adult. You don’t have to be your father’s lackey if you don’t want to.”

“I think he would beg to differ.”

Karen began to pace. Billy watched for a moment, finding the repetitive, nervous act quickly making him apprehensive.

After only a moment, Billy sat up. “Will you stop that?”

Her brows tightening, she stopped in the center of the room. She looked at the window, imagining the cool breeze rushing over her. Feeling bold, she stormed over to it and flung it open.

Billy jumped to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting some fresh air.”

Billy hurried up to her as she sat down on the windowsill.

“If I’m going to die, I’m going to die, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you keep me cooped up in this stuffy room until then,” Karen said, her throat tight.

“Fair enough.” Billy leaned up against the other side of the open window, appreciating the light breeze. What a shame that such a pretty, sweet thing had to fall casualty to the small war her father had started. He began contemplating alternative scenarios in which Karen didn’t have to die.

He tried to fight it, but he had been totally unprepared for the bond their mutual blood exchange had created. He knew that giving in to any feelings he suddenly had for Karen would only make matters worse, as increasingly difficult as it was for him to fight them. Moreover, any sign of weakness on his part would not fare well with the rest of his family. Still, her scent kept finding him, and he couldn’t help noticing how captivating her eyes had become.

“You ever have a dream?” Karen asked, refusing to break down again.

Billy nodded, but he said nothing.

“I thought I’d move to Los Angeles with my boyfriend, find a small apartment not too deep in the slums, and dazzle just the right agent with just the right work. I had ideas…so many really great ideas,” Karen said. She looked up at the moon, as if it might offer her some new, novel insight.

Billy nodded again, at loss for words.

Karen turned to face him, as well, and the world seemed to stop for a moment as their eyes finally met once more. Billy took a deep breath, realizing that he could no longer fully entrance her, suddenly feeling as though she had turned the tables somehow and was bewitching him instead.

Giving another slow, thoughtful sigh that Karen couldn’t quite interpret, Billy pushed away from the windowsill and moved to the side of the bed. He dug for a moment between the heavy mattress and the box spring, and then pulled out Karen’s can of mace. His face torn, he slowly returned to the window and handed her the small peace offering.

“Thank you,” Karen said, grateful and relieved, grasping his hand in hers for a moment as she accepted it. She quickly got to her feet and stashed the mace in her purse, which she hastily tucked into a drawer on the side of her bed. She turned to find Billy standing again by the open window.

“Why?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m not sure,” Billy lied. He stared her down, admiring the fine contour of her body against her loose blouse and tight blue jeans, his eyes hungry to see more. He turned away, knowing that he would have to answer to his father for any repercussions resulting from his actions.

“You feel it, too?” Karen asked, confused.

He tried not to look at her, glancing over slightly and catching her in his peripheral view. The breeze from the open window carried her scent to him, and he savored it with each breath. “It’s just a response to our blood in one another. It will fade in time, if we don’t act on it.”

Karen slowly inched her way back to the window, her heart suddenly racing. She didn’t understand what it was that he implied, and yet she nodded lightly. “Oh.”

Neither said a word for several minutes, both feigning distraction by the shadows thrashing about outside among the wind-blown trees. They glanced over at one another, each attempting to read the other, although their continued silence was telling.

Flustered and aware that his will was crumbling, Billy tried to return his attention to the view outside but the effort was futile. He turned back to Karen and then cursed himself as he finally caved to his nagging impulses. He knew that he would regret it later, but the drive was too strong. His eyes were irresistibly lost in hers and seeing that the spell was clearly reciprocal by the way she gazed back, Billy slowly moved toward her. Without any further hesitation he moved his lips to hers, and a sense of excitement and relief immediately overcame them both as they kissed.

Karen felt intoxicated, knowing logically that she had no reason to be attracted to Billy, and yet she was so taken by the moment that all she could concentrate on was her desire to feel their bodies together. Whatever the cause of their sudden chemistry, she couldn’t help but lose herself in his scent. An excited tremble ran through her as Billy removed her shirt and felt her round breasts with his cool hands. She pulled off his shirt, and then reveled in the sensation of their bodies up against one another as they moved back together in a passionate embrace.

Karen moved to his neck, smelling and savoring the amazing scent that emanated from him. She breathed him in, growing even more apprehensive and excited. Suddenly, she pushed him away, surprised and horrified, as her eyeteeth began to grow and she felt a growing urge to sink them deep into his flesh.

“What’s wrong?” Billy whispered, as she abruptly turned away.

Karen felt her teeth with her tongue, wondering if she actually had it in her to tear Billy’s throat open, and then his scent hit her in another heady wave and their eyes met once more. She asked herself as her body ached for her to continue: Did it really matter if she ended up accidentally hurting him? Maybe she wanted to hurt him…

Karen slowly moved back up to him, feeling his body against hers and finding his lips with her own. She hesitated as she found his neck, tasting his skin and smelling his breath against her cheek. He unzipped her pants and, grateful for the diversion, she began to fuss with his belt. Kicking off the last remnants of their clothes, they found the bed together with a clumsy dive. She fell to her back and their bodies felt as though they might melt together for a moment as he sank down on top of her. His firm, muscular frame pressed gently against hers as his hands moved along her slim body, admiring her sleek, subtle contours.

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment longer, and then she felt him, throbbing and engorged with her blood, while his own blood pulsed and swelled within her. Slowly she coaxed him between her legs, easing him inside her. Their blood seemed to speak between one another’s bodies, frantic to unify, creating a desperation in each of them to tear into the other. She worked him in completely, bringing their hips together, reveling in the feel of their bodies melding into each other. The feel of him inside her, the ethereal awareness of his body, his essence, his shaft hot and swollen as it stimulated her newly heightened senses, was almost more than she could bear, and yet she continued to drive him into her, craving even more. They swayed and rocked together in blissful synchronicity, lost in the feel and the primal drive compelling them forward.

She felt an electric rush run though the core of her body as he shifted himself just slightly, finding a mutually enjoyable position. Their bodies began to move as one with her legs bringing him close and driving him in hard and deep. Ecstasy tore through her body, and she began to shake, his every movement driving and building inside her. She kissed his neck and then, unwilling to hold back any longer, she moved to bite him.

To her surprise, he brushed her from his neck with an easy turn of his head, and then immediately struck her neck instead. Karen’s mind went blank, the intense dichotomy of pleasure and pain sending her reeling and crying out. He continued to thrust up against her, and she felt her body go weak as he came in her with a muffled, pleasured moan.

Chapter Six

Karen sat up in bed, realizing that she was alone. She lay back for a moment and took a deep, calming breath. She looked across the room, to the closed windows, noticing the thin streaks of sunlight peeking between the curtains, and fear filled her once more as she thought about Billy’s horrifying claims. Breaking out in a cold sweat, Karen forced her tired body out of bed and slowly stepped toward the window. Her hand shaking, she moved her fingertips between the curtains.

The sunlight burned her skin immediately. It left a red, welted line across the end of each of her fingers as she quickly pulled her hand out of its direct path. She took a close look at the wounds, both surprised and dismayed. With equal surprise, she watched as the wounds began to heal, taking only seconds to transform into clear, healthy skin.

Despite all that she still struggled to process, sleep suddenly seemed more important than anything else as she glanced back over at her soft, inviting bed. She curled up, hugging her pillow, as suddenly the front door burst open.

“Hello?” Karen’s mother called from the front entry.

Karen rolled over with a moan, pulling the sheet over her head.

Lauren, Karen’s mother, knocked on the open door as she entered the room. She was a tall woman with thick, dark hair and a time-weathered face. She stood in the middle of the room, with her hands on her hips. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Karen peeked over the sheet. “I’m not feeling well.”

“It’s this musty room,” Lauren said, walking to the windows with long, confident steps. She swung open the curtains, and then pushed open both of the windows to let in the breeze. Sunlight filled the room.

Karen ducked under the sheet with a gasp, the indirect light flooding the room sending her into a sudden panic.

“Why haven’t you answered any of my calls? I’ve been worried sick,” Lauren asked as she walked back to the door.

“I…lost my phone,” Karen said, terrified to move.

“Get up. Your dad’s been dying to see you. We brought dinner.” Lauren walked out, leaving Karen no time to come up with a suitable retort. The door halted at a slight crack after Lauren had given it a half-ass tug to close it behind her.

Suddenly it hit Karen that she had to find some way of warning her family of the dangers awaiting them at nightfall. What could she say, however, that wouldn’t set her father off and prompt her mother to have them both committed? She knew she couldn’t stand by and allow whatever Billy’s family had planned to happen without a fight, but at the same time she felt helpless, unsure of what, if anything, she might do to stop them.

Karen shielded her eyes as she slowly peeked over the sheet again, her heart racing as the indirect light met her skin. A heavy sweat broke out over her entire body. She felt light-headed and feverish as she got up from the bed and carefully moved toward the windows. A hot, searing pain sliced over the entire right side of her body as she grabbed the curtains, despite the horrific light, and threw them shut. She stepped back as the wind shifted the heavy material, realizing that there was no way of getting both windows shut and covered without getting seriously burned in the process.

Tired, sweating, and fighting tears, Karen got dressed as quickly as she could and made her way downstairs.

All of the curtains were open, and sunlight poured in through several of the downstairs windows. Karen covered her eyes, keeping as close to the shadows as she could, and staggered into the kitchen. She stood, bracing herself against the doorway for a moment, watching her family eating slices of congealed, greasy pizza at the table. She squinted to focus on the clock, seeing that it was just past six.

Karen’s teenage brother, Nick, was dressed all in black and sported wild hair and facial piercings. He was large for his build, the result of his love of rich foods and his utter hatred of all forms of exercise. Nick looked up from his food, hardly recognizing the pale, shaky young woman standing across the way. “Karen?” he asked.

Lauren and Ron both looked up, as well. Lauren seemed tired and on edge, while Ron appeared to be so heavily medicated that he practically drooled on himself as he ate.

“I’ve got a migraine,” Karen said. “Could someone please close the curtains?”

After a moment of silent stillness, Lauren got up and closed the two sets of curtains in the kitchen. She made up a plate for Karen as she walked to the table.

Lauren smiled at Karen as she took her seat. “It’s so nice to see you again, sweetie. We’re all so proud of you.”

Ron stopped eating for a moment and looked over at Karen with blank, beady eyes. “I used to get migraines, back when I was younger.” He returned to his food, feeling that he had made his contribution to the table conversation.

Karen nodded her acknowledgment to both of them, her mixed emotions regarding their small reunion impossible for her to hide. She and Nick had stayed in decent contact via e-mail, so their relationship was not horribly affected by Ron’s meltdown, but Karen’s relationship with her parents had suffered. Ron had simply disappeared, leaving crazy rumors and a broken life in his wake, while Lauren had fallen into a chasm of her own, wrought with a confused blend of grief and denial. For almost two years, she seemed to have fallen off the face of the planet. Then, strangely, as soon as Ron was released she somehow seemed to think that life could resume as if nothing had ever happened. Karen had a hard time with that arrangement and ultimately decided it necessary to keep their contact minimal, simply for the sake of her own sanity. She wondered now how much better off she would have been had she kept that at “nonexistent” rather than “minimal.”

Karen stared down at the plate Lauren set before her. Completely turned off by the smell and look of the meal, Karen looked back and forth between her family members, watching them devour the greasy, smelly food. She began to gag, and then hurried to the sink as she felt the onset of dry heaves. She coughed and choked for a moment, but she did not vomit. She rinsed her face and swallowed a handful of water, leaning against the counter and catching her breath.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Nick asked, hoping to make dinner conversation a little more interesting.

“I’m not pregnant,” she snapped.

“She said she was sick,” Lauren said, reaching for a glass of soda.

“Sometimes migraines make you puke,” Ron said, not realizing that his mouth was too full to him to be able to speak without bits of crust and tomato sauce launching out onto himself and the table. He looked over at Karen, doing an obvious double-take as he got a quick glimpse of the scar tissue on her neck.

Noticing Ron’s reaction, Karen suddenly felt terribly uncomfortable being in the same room as him. She couldn’t make eye contact with him, fearing that somehow he already knew what was wrong with her. She draped her hair over the offending side, hoping it might cover up the scars well enough to keep him from getting a better look.

She wondered how she might convince her parents to vacate the property by nightfall. What could she possibly say to make them change their plans and abandon that horrible place for the rest of the summer, given all that they went through to get there? “This dump has really gone downhill,” Karen said.

“It’s not that bad,” Lauren said.

“Practically falling apart,” Karen continued, desperately wanting to sit down, but afraid that the pizza might make her sick again. “I think we should spend the summer somewhere else.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lauren said, taking the comment on a strange, personal level.

Ron noticed Karen’s strange behavior. “Is something the matter, Karen?” he asked.

“I told you, I have a migraine,” Karen said, her hand going to her forehead.

Ron nodded, but his face was unconvinced. He got up and shuffled strangely up to the sink-- his stiff feet barely lifting from the floor, which was an unfortunate side effect of one of his medications. He stood beside Karen as he rinsed his plate and set it in the sink, his hands shaking just slightly, another side-effect of his medication.

Or was he nervous about something?

Ron glanced over at Karen, trying to get a better look at her neck.

Karen quickly turned, her fingers going through her hair, moving the rest of her long locks over to reinforce the hair already covering her scars.

She noticed that Ron was beginning to sweat, and the scent emanating from him had shifted to something more pungent and sweet. She felt a small hunger pang hit her stomach, and suddenly realized that she was staring at his throat.

“My head is killing me. I really need to go lie down for a little while,” Karen said, as she hurried out of the room.

The trek up the staircase was difficult, each step leaving her feet feeling heavier and heavier as she pushed herself to continue. Holding herself up against the banister, she made it to the second floor and began toward her bedroom. The sun had become much less prominent through the windows, but the light still came as hot daggers to her senses. She turned across the way, desperate for a dark, quiet place to rest her tired body.

Much to Karen’s relief, the upstairs bathroom window was well covered and the room was relatively dark. She locked herself in and then crawled into the bathtub. The cool porcelain felt good against her skin. Too exhausted to care about getting caught sleeping in a dry bathtub, she lay back and quickly dozed off.

Chapter Seven

Karen startled awake, somehow knowing that Billy was up and waiting alongside his family for the last traces of sunlight to disappear behind the horizon. She sat up, her back sore from lying on the hard porcelain. She groggily stepped out of the bathtub. She knew by the feel of the air that the sun would be setting soon, and she knew -- because Billy knew -- that she would feel infinitely better once the sun was finally down.

She crossed the hall to her bedroom, finding it tolerable now that no direct sunlight shone in and the light that did trickle in was more subdued. She hurried to her bed, retrieved her purse and sped back out. She still had no idea how she was going to get her family out of the house, and she knew that she had little time to come up with a plan. As she ran down the stairs, she noticed that the house was strangely quiet.

“Hello?” Karen called out.

Karen checked the kitchen and living room. Food filled the cupboards and refrigerator, and the several matching pieces of antique furniture no longer had their sheets covering them, signs that Lauren was already trying to make the house more comfortable for their long stay.

Karen called out once more from the front entry, “Hello?”

“Out here!” Ron called out from the veranda. “We’re watching the sunset.”

Karen stood by the door, knowing that the front of the house got direct sunlight from afternoon to dusk. It would be safe for her to exit in just another minute or two, but by then it would be too late.

Karen gasped, holding her purse close to her, as she saw Billy moving up a small staircase and sliding open a mock wall in her mind’s eye. She turned, finding the door to the coat closet opening. Billy and his family joined her in the entry. The entire group, except for Spring, had Mark’s and Billy’s pale features.

Karen stood in front of the door, knowing that her small can of mace would not be enough to stop the group, should they all advance at once. “Please just go!” Karen said as quietly as she could.

Billy stared Karen down. “Come with us.”

“You know I can’t just stand by and let you kill my family!” she replied, her heart pounding.

Mark moved to Billy’s side, staring her down with his cold, pale eyes. “You have no other options, unless you want to die along with them. You should be thankful I’m feeling generous.” He shot Billy an unforgiving glare.

Billy took a deep breath to say something, but restrained himself.

“Karen?” her brother called from outside.

Karen and Billy stared at one another for a moment, and then, her throat going tight, Karen swung open the front door. She stepped out onto the veranda, the dying sunlight sending her back a step with a horrified gasp as the group inside darted to get out of the sun’s short, but direct, path.

She turned to her family, shielding her face with her arms, her skin quickly becoming a dark crimson. “Go! Now!”

Her family stared, dumbstruck, as Karen stumbled back into the house, closing the door with a pained cry before collapsing to the floor.

Mark stormed up to her and kicked her in the stomach. “Wrong move!” he growled.

Karen balled up, coughing and gagging as she worked to catch her breath.

Billy hurried up to them, blocking Mark from dealing another blow. “Can you blame her? It is her family!” he said.

Mark’s face suddenly looked like something from a nightmare, red with rage, fangs protruding, foaming at the mouth as he asked, “You’re defending her, now?”

Billy stood boldly between Mark and Karen. “Ron killed one man and we’re destroying a whole family!”

“He’s paying us back with interest,” Mark said as he took a deep breath and turned to the door.

They all knew at once that the sun was down, and everyone but Billy and Karen followed Mark’s lead when he opened the front door.

Mark saw that Billy had no intention of leaving Karen’s side. He motioned to Spring, “Make sure they don’t go anywhere.”

Spring nodded, closing the door behind him as he and the others hurried off. She turned to Billy, feeling torn over her post, just as she felt torn over her position in the family. She and Mark had bonded after Billy’s mother died from depression-induced starvation. Quickly finding herself the new outlet for Mark’s abusive outbursts, Spring almost went the same route as Billy’s mother, until she discovered her turn had awakened a previously latent talent for divination and spell-casting. Suddenly possessing a designation beyond “the only Turn in the family,” Spring felt as though her place in the hierarchy had risen a notch. She feared her status might not last long, however, given Karen’s grave condition. She knew that without medicinal intervention, Karen might suffer for days -- and possibly even die -- from sun poisoning.

Karen shivered, in shock as the massive wounds all across her body slowly healed over. Every inch of her body burned and stung, and she labored to breathe. In too much pain to talk, she looked up at Billy, her face pleading him to do something, anything, to relieve her agony. “Just kill me!” she spat between gritted teeth, too desperate to think straight.

Billy turned to Spring. “Is there anything you can do?”

She carried her large purse to Karen’s side, and sifted through what appeared to be a bottomless pit of divination paraphernalia, herbs, and make-up. Finding a wrapped and dried sprig of sage, she dug once more until she found a lighter, lit the tip of the sprig, and quickly blew it out as if it were a stick of incense.

Karen lay helplessly shaking on the floor. She coughed at first as Spring moved the sage in front of her and fanned the sweet smoke into her nose and mouth, but soon Karen took it in with long, relaxing breaths. The smoke was soothing, and Karen could feel it slowly buffering the toxic reaction. The fire raging through her body dulled and she stopped shaking. She was exhausted and closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

Spring snuffed out the sage, knowing that Mark particularly hated the smell of it and would be furious enough without returning to a house thick with the distinctive smoke.

“You can’t do anything more?” Billy asked, desperate to get Karen mobile.

“She took in a long dose of full-body exposure to the sun, Billy. The sage can only bind up so much of the toxin; the rest of it just has to work itself out.” Spring opened the front door to air out the room, surprised to see Mark and the others already on their way back up to the veranda.

Mark dragged Ron, kicking and wailing, back into the house, while the other young man carried in an extremely dazed and confused Lauren. Spring joined them as the men took their captives into the living room, and Mark gave her a scowl as he smelled the sage.

Billy and Karen watched silently from the entry as Mark shoved Ron onto an antique chair. Mark secured Ron tightly to the chair with duct tape, barely leaving him enough room to breathe. He taped Ron’s hands behind him, binding his wrists together with a generous length of the thick, sticky tape.

Ron stared at Mark, recognizing him by his fair features as family of the man he shot. He began to drool, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I knew it!” he yelled, not sure whether he should laugh or cry. “I was right!” He looked over at Karen and he suddenly became overwrought with grief, wondering if she was dead.

“It’s bad enough that there are people out there, tracking and killing us for a living,” Mark muttered. “People like you make me just as sick. Who the hell do you think you are, breaking up my family like it was nothing? Think you’re a hero? A big vampire hunter?” He spat in Ron’s face.

Mark walked up to Lauren as she fell out of her daze and became cognizant of where she was. The young man who had brought her in quickly grabbed her from behind and twisted her arms behind her back as she began to kick and scream. Mark sprang back as Lauren made a sudden, well-aimed attempt at kicking him in the groin, and then chuckled at the close call.

“My son is getting help!” Lauren said, staring Mark down.

“I sincerely doubt that,” Mark said confidently.

Karen tried to get up, but Billy kept her still. “There’s nothing you can do,” he said.

The front door opened again and couple of Billy’s other family members dragged Nick, bloodied and unconscious, through the entry and into the living room. They threw the boy down in front of Ron, so he could see that they had drained him to the brink of death.

“You bastards!” Ron screamed, immediately struggling and kicking in a desperate attempt to free himself. The duct tape chafed and cut into his skin, but he continued to struggle and fight against his restraints.

Mark turned his attention back to Lauren, making eye contact. They silently stared at one another for a moment before Mark took her into his arms and initiated a long, passionate kiss. He turned her so that he could give Ron a quick, spiteful glance.

Spring turned away, unable to watch.

“Lauren!” Ron yelled desperately.

Lauren almost came to, but Mark focused his attention back on her and she became lost in his eyes again. She wrapped her arms around him and affectionately slid the inside of one of her legs up and down his outer thigh.

Mark felt her large, pale breasts, moving his hands down her body and into her pants, feeling her. She breathed heavily, her eyes staying on his, as he penetrated her with his fingers. “Does that feel good?” he asked.

Lauren moaned. “Don’t stop!” Her body trembled, her legs threatening to give out on her, as she gyrated up against him, prompting his fingers to feel her even deeper.

“Lauren!” Ron screamed as loudly as he could. “Lauren, get away from him!”

Lauren’s eyes went wide and she suddenly turned away from Mark with a scream, kicking and fighting him. He grabbed her by the hair with his free hand and quickly lashed out at her throat, taking her to the ground. She struggled to get him off her, but his hold was too strong. She looked up at Ron, who watched helplessly as her eyelids fluttered for a moment before her body went limp. Mark allowed her to collapse to the floor, motionless, as she continued to bleed out.

Ron screamed uncontrollably, until his throat went hoarse and he could barely breathe. His wrists grew bruised and raw from his continued efforts to free himself, and he was exhausted not only from the struggle, but also from the high dose cocktail of anti-psychotics and tranquilizers that he took with dinner.

Mark pulled a Swiss Army knife from one of his pockets and opened up it. He set it between Ron’s bound hands, and then patted the man on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t drop that, if I were you. It’s a little dull, but it’s the best we can do.”

Mark and the others cleared out. He gave Billy a quick tug as he moved through the entry. He gestured to Karen. “Leave her!” he growled.

Billy ignored him, staying by Karen’s side. She cried quietly, clutching desperately to Billy’s hands.

“She chose her own fate,” Mark said, his voice threatening.

With a deep breath, Billy pulled away from Karen’s grasp. He tucked Karen’s purse under her arm, and then stood, telling her with his eyes that he would be back.

Ron immediately began to work at the duct tape that bound his wrists. He sawed awkwardly and slowly being careful that the knife didn’t slip from between his violently shaking hands. His face was pale and sweaty, and his eyes shifted back and forth between Lauren and Nick for a moment before turning to face Karen.

Karen watched him from across the room, wondering how quickly he would be able to free himself. She already knew that, as much as it would pain him, he would feel driven to kill not only her, but her mother and brother as well. There would be nothing she could say or do to save them, should he cut through the duct tape before she could find some way to stop him.

Karen tried to get up, her body weak from the sun poisoning. Her skin tingled and stung as it continued to regenerate what had burned, and an intense, sudden nausea threatened to keep her at her knees. She looked back up at Ron and a quick chill ran down her spine as he continued to stare her down.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Ron asked, his face flat.

Karen looked over at Lauren and Nick, trying to determine whether they might still be alive. Neither one seemed to be breathing. Distraught, Karen crawled over to Nick. She stopped at his side and felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

Struggling to stay somewhat composed, Karen dug into her bag and found her can of mace. She placed the can in Nick’s limp hand, just in case.

“I asked you a question!” Ron yelled, now furiously sawing at the duct tape with the dull blade, impatiently tugging and jerking at the tape as he continued to work at it.

Karen jumped as Ron jerked especially hard at the cut restraints with an angry cry. She stared back at him, a sigh of relief escaping her as she realized that he had not yet freed himself. She forced herself to her feet, an intense swell of grief bringing heavy streams of tears to her face. There was nothing left for her to do here. If she didn’t leave now her father would kill her.

Karen took a few steps toward the entry hall, fighting a sudden dizzy spell. She staggered over to Ron, stopping to knock the knife from his grip before collapsing beside his chair.

Ron tugged furiously at the uncut layers of duct tape, growling and cursing as Karen took a moment to reorient herself. She struggled to keep from looking back over at Nick, knowing the shock of his battered and bloodied body would be too much for her to bear.

She watched Ron through her peripheral vision, taking deep breaths as her mind threatened to go black. “I have to go, now,” she said, brushing away her tears only to find new ones immediately falling in their place.

Ron suddenly went silent, nodding, thinking.

“This is all your fault,” Karen added, and then shakily got back up. She staggered to the partial wall dividing the living room from the entry hall, and then rested against it for a moment.

“You’re just going to leave me here?” Ron cried.

Karen continued toward the door, ignoring him.

“You can’t leave!” he yelled, laughing and crying at the same time, fighting the duct tape around his wrists with newfound fervor. “You know I can’t let you!”

Karen’s throat went painfully tight. “You can’t let me? Could you really kill your own daughter?” She glared at him scornfully. “Have you considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you’re still crazy? You have to at least consider it.”

Both Karen and Ron jumped with a start as Lauren gave off a light moan.

Ron cried out, visibly weakening as he continued to jerk and tug at his restraints. “Lauren!”

Lauren did not respond.

“Are you going to kill your own wife?” Karen asked, sobbing.

Ron glanced over at Lauren, and then back at Karen. “She’s already dead!” he cried, tearing the skin over his wrists as he fought to pull his hands free.

Karen struggled to remain standing, her knees threatening to buckle with the weight of her body. She fought the impulse to cross back into the living room and rush to her mother’s side, but she knew that she was helpless to change anything. Her mother would either die or turn. Karen wasn’t sure she wanted to be around to witness either scenario. She was only wasting time. She needed to get out, so that she could put as much distance between her and Ron as possible. She reached the front door, ignoring Ron’s screams for her to return.

Karen tumbled down the front steps of the veranda, her body slamming onto the hard, paved walkway. She lay on her stomach for a moment, her face against the dusty path, as she wondered just how she was going to get anywhere in the state she was in. Suddenly she realized that she knew how to start her car.

She got back to her feet and made her way down the path to the driveway. She dug into her purse, relieved to find her keys without too much of a search, and threw her purse into the car before popping the hood. She moved a loose wire to the battery and secured it in place. She hurried back into the driver’s seat, locked herself in, and took a moment to compose herself before starting the engine.

Crying aloud, she backed the car down the driveway and began toward the county road. She dug into her purse, finding her phone as she drove. She tried 911 and was amazed when an operator picked up. Karen gave the dispatcher the address to the old Victorian, giving few details and hanging up quickly. She didn’t want to imagine what might occur between Ron and the rest of her family. A flood of guilt began to fill her for leaving them the way she did.

Her face flushed as her mind threatened to black out on her again, prompting her to turn on both the air conditioning and the radio. She gripped the steering wheel tight with the strain of all that continued to rush through her mind, and after only a moment of indecision upon reaching the county road, she opted to take a left.

A song came on that Karen had heard a few times before, but she had not yet been able to catch either the artist’s name or the song’s title. She tried to focus on the catchy tune, realizing that she was still sobbing and in need of distraction. Dizziness reeled through her and she struggled to keep her eyes on the road. Her focus slowly faded, despite her intense will to remain in control.

The world suddenly turned upside-down as her heavy arms slipped from the wheel. The car veered off the road into the narrow ditch on the right. Disoriented and unsure what to do next, she hung by her seatbelt, realizing that her car had overturned. She listened to the end of the song as her mind slipped in and out of consciousness. A radio announcer came on and said something, but his words became garbled. His voice faded as everything around Karen went dark.

Chapter Eight

“We still have her blood in pathology. Whatever she has, it’s a rare one,” a man said. “The university medical center is already filing for transfer.”

Karen opened her eyes, realizing that she was no longer in her overturned car. She was in a hospital room. She could hear the light, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor and, as she shifted her body, she could feel an intravenous line in her left arm. She sensed that it was precisely dusk.

“How much longer do you think we’ll have her?” a second voice asked.

“Another day or so,” the first one answered, perturbed.

Karen slowly opened her eyes and looked toward the men wearing sterile paper garments. They stood by the door, which was divided from the rest of the room by a thin wall of clear, slotted plastic sheets that rested upon one another like vertical blinds. The room was fairly dim -- all of the overhead fluorescent lights were turned off -- with a single security light illuminating the space directly around her bed. There were no windows.

Karen sat up, a rush of adrenaline giving her a temporary surge of energy. One of the men looked over, jumping with surprise. The other man looked and they both froze for a moment, silently watching her stare back.

“Where am I?” Karen demanded.

Both of the men covered their faces with surgical masks, and then carefully slipped past the plastic. They both kept their distance as they approached the bed.

“How did I get here?” Karen asked, the beep accelerating with her heart rate. That same sweet smell that emanated from her father now came from both of the men. She realized that what she smelled was apprehension.

“You ran your car into a ditch,” the first man said, his eyes shifting as he contemplated his next words. “Something caused you to go unconscious. We found some type of infection in your blood. We’re still not sure what you have, but we’re going to need you to stay here for a few days.”

“An infection?” Karen asked, wondering what the doctors saw when they looked at her blood samples.

“I know you’re scared,” the other doctor said, “but we’ve been able to contact your family, so they know you’re safe.”

“Who? Who did you contact?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Your father,” the man said, his voice suddenly hesitant. “His number was on your cell phone.”

A heavy shock raced through her and her heart raced. “I have to get out of here!”

Karen went to rip the catheter from her arm but the men quickly moved to stop her. She threw them both aside with one swift brush of her arm, and then yanked the needles, wires, and tubes from her with another quick sweep. She dove into one of the men as he made a second attempt to restrain her, and the man’s head hit hard against the tile floor as he fell backward. Karen gasped, realizing that she had knocked him out. She looked up at the other man, horrified.

The man glared back for a moment, and then made a dash for one of the room emergency alarms. He tripped the switch as Karen ran for the door. She reached it before him, but he was able to tackle her to the ground as she stopped to turn the knob and pull open the heavy door. He held onto her legs, his arms locked tightly around them.

The door opened and two more men came rushing in. Karen kicked one man, but she didn’t have enough time to get to her feet before the other two men were on her. A needle went into her thigh and with a painful sting of the syringe emptying into her, immediately she went limp.

“He can’t know where I am!” Karen mumbled, her words slurred and strained. She tried to say more, but her lips trembled and then fell silent.

The sound and smell of more men coming in sent another shock of alarm through Karen’s body, but the injection left her too intoxicated to move.

“Jones is out cold,” one man said.

“What the hell happened here?” yelled another.

“She’s stronger than she looks!” bawled yet another.

The voices echoed, barely making sense. Karen felt several hands lift her and then she felt the firm hospital mattress beneath her once more.

“No!” Karen cried, the tears slipping from her closed eyes as she felt the leather restraints being fastened and tightened around her wrists and ankles.

“She’s not out? I gave her enough Thorazine to drop an elephant,” someone said.

“Make sure those things are tight. I don’t want that bitch getting up again,” someone else muttered and Karen felt all four restraints go uncomfortably tight.

The room cleared as the men removed the unconscious doctor and checked that Karen was adequately secured. Karen’s eyes rolled back as she felt overcome with the strange sensation that her body was free-falling.

“Am I flying?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Karen tried to move, but her arms and legs were bound to the bed. She managed to her open eyes enough to get a fuzzy view of two men wearing the same protective clothing as the others. The two exchanged glances, acknowledging Karen’s increasing lucidity. They continued to watch her from a safe distance from the bed, silent and intent, as if she were a rare artifact on display.

One of the men boldly moved to Karen’s side. She stared him down through heavy, puffy eyes.

“I have rights,” Karen said, the short sentence taking a great deal of effort.

“Not when you’re dying from an unknown disease,” the man said with a smirk twitching from one corner of his lips.

“Dying?” Karen asked, fighting the restraints only for a moment before finding the struggle too tiresome to continue.

“That’s right,” the man said. “Have any idea what it is or where you could have caught it? Been overseas recently?”

Karen closed her eyes and turned away. She was finished talking.

“It’s not a tough question,” the man said, taking another step closer.

The other doctor’s beeper went off and he lifted his paper shirt to see the number. “They’re calling me to floor two again,” he said, disappointed.

“I’ll keep you posted,” the man at Karen’s side replied.

Karen heard the other man move through the plastic barrier and then exit the room.

“Do you have a problem?” Karen growled, her eyes still closed.

“No problem,” the man said, “other than the fact that you cracked my good friend’s skull. He’s got a severe concussion. He might as well have been in a car wreck. What do you have to say about that?”

Karen forced her eyes back open, unsure what the man was leading up to.

His scent changing quickly and dramatically, he leaned over to whisper into Karen’s ear. “If my friend ends up…” He took a moment to compose his words.

Karen took in the scent of the man’s warm neck, her stomach beginning to feel empty and desperate, her body begging her to replenish all that it had spent repairing the damage the sun had caused. Still sedated by the intense tranquilizer, Karen was unfazed by the unexpected sensation of her eyeteeth lengthening. It took everything she had to move to the man’s ear, cutting him off just as he took a breath to continue speaking.

“I need to tell you something important,” she whispered, working not to slur her words. “It’s about my disease.”

He offered an eager ear, and a light, nervous cry came from her as she breathed in another heavy whiff of his warm, fragrant neck. She summoned up enough energy to lunge at him, digging her teeth into his throat. The rush of blood came promptly and liberally. She drank three generous mouthfuls before the man, shocked and horrified, managed to tear himself away.

He backed away, grabbing his neck as if he might stop the bleeding with his hand. His eyes were wide and dazed. In one quick motion, he slipped on his own blood and went down almost exactly where his friend had only hours before. He managed to brace his fall, however, saving his head from the hard floor. Still, he found himself growing too weak to get back up, the immense blood loss causing his energy to wane with each exsanguinating heartbeat.

The blood hit Karen’s stomach, warm and healing. She could feel the strength begin to return to her body immediately. She looked over at the man…Harris. She fought tears, realizing that somehow she was willing him to return to her. Dr. Harris, she knew from the tiny sample of blood she had taken, was a good man, dedicated to his job, with a lovely wife and sweet, seven-year-old little boy…

How did she know that? His blood…

Karen fought to break eye contact and let the man go, but she simply could not help herself. Her stomach demanded to be filled, and she knew she needed to finish him before another flood of men came in to stop her.

Dr. Harris staggered back to the bed, his eyes strangely alarmed yet complacent as he unfastened one of her arm restraints. He and Karen stared each other down for another horrifying moment before he surrendered his bleeding neck to her once more. She latched on, gulping the waning rushes of blood as quickly as they came, digging her teeth back into the wound and holding the man to her with her free hand, sucking at his veins as the blood flow became weak and the flailing body went limp.

Her stomach painfully full, Karen pushed the body aside and unfastened the rest of the restraints. The sight of the body sent her into a guilty panic.

How had she controlled him like that?

It felt natural…she was the predator and he was the prey. She no longer doubted what she had become and yet she felt the same terrible, nagging pang of remorse any human should feel after killing another.

A loud cry escaped from deep within her as she grabbed the blood-spattered sheets and began desperately scrubbing away the blood covering her face and chest. Blood was everywhere. She was horrified at the sight of it, and at the same time…

…at the same time she reveled in it.

She donned Dr. Harris’s bloody scrubs, covered them up with a fresh paper suit from a shelf on the other side of the plastic barrier, covered her face with a surgical mask, and slipped out of the room completely unnoticed.

She realized as she entered the hallway that she had obtained from Dr. Harris a detailed knowledge of the floor plan. Karen moved through the hospital as though she had negotiated the halls a hundred times before. She immediately went to the first floor Lost and Found and traded in Harris’s scrubs for a pair of bell-bottom jeans and a long-sleeved peasant girl shirt, which were the only clothes her size. Moving clumsily in a pair of oversized sneakers, she made her way to the garage, which let out to one of the side streets.

Chapter Nine

The night was cool, the twilight long replaced by dark shadows and dim street lamps. The streets were narrow and quiet. Karen knew, compliments of Dr. Harris’s various memories, that she was in a small town called Amten, somewhere within an hour of the old Victorian. She had no idea how she had gotten there, her last memory outside of town being of the few surreal moments after the car crash when she hung by her seatbelt in the ditch, clinging to consciousness.

She thought about the circumstances that had led her to that moment. She had faced the sun to warn her family of the dangers awaiting them, and that had gained her nothing beyond an excruciating case of sun poisoning. Her father saw nothing beyond the monster, however. He did not see his daughter anymore, but only a soon-to-be rabid beast that needed to be put down before the madness set in.

Had he been right? Her engorged stomach was a reminder of the terrible fact that she had killed a man, drank his blood, and enjoyed every ounce. She hated herself for that.

Murderer. Thief.

Karen thought about the immense pleasure she would take in killing Billy, in consuming every last bit of him, and in feeling the life slowly slip from his body into hers. Just thinking about him made her weak at the knees, but that only fueled the hatred she felt when she considered the monster he had turned her into. She would see he paid for that with his life.

And vindictive, now, too? No, that wasn’t her. Vengeance would change nothing.

With this newfound disgust her stomach felt as though it might burst, so she hurried to a nearby bush and began to vomit. Suddenly feeling terribly shaky, she fought the urge to empty the contents of her stomach completely. She continued to gag and wretch, but the thought of becoming hungry again held her stomach fast. She took a moment to catch her breath and regain her bearings. She wiped her face as she looked around to ensure that no one was watching her.

Karen slipped into a small alley as she heard a car come near. She crouched down behind a dumpster as another car came down the adjoining street. The long alley came to a dead end on the far side. There were two-story storefronts on either side, with padlocked gates standing between them and the tall brownstone that sat at the far end, perpendicular to the alley. A few windows faced Karen, but no one looked out. She quietly huddled as close to the shadows as she could, distraught and unsure where to go. She winced as she heard a police siren in the distance. The sound hurt her ears and it brought flashes of Dr. Harris’s face to her mind’s eye.

A knot formed in her throat. He had planned on teaching his son how to play football. He had fought with his wife the night before, as well as all that morning, and they never had a chance to make up. Karen fought back the urge to sob aloud. If only Dr. Harris had the chance to tell his beautiful, sweet Hannah he loved her, they could have been on good terms when he died …

And what about little Joey? Now he would grow up without his father. Who would teach him to play ball, help him with his algebra, and teach him how to defend himself against bullies? What had she done?

What the hell was she doing?

Karen’s hands went to her head as she tried to will the madness away. She cried silently, understanding that Dr. Harris’ memories and feelings were imposing themselves on hers. She reminded herself that the hitchhiking memories would eventually fade in time. Already the few random bits she had acquired from Billy’s blood were beginning to fade: his favorite book, his continued grief over his mother’s death…and her connection to Billy had been even greater. They had fed mutually from one another and they had made love. If she was already beginning to lose touch with him, it wouldn’t be too long before Dr. Harris’s haunting thoughts were lost to her as well.

Karen took a deep breath, reminding herself that she needed to stay focused if she was going to get out of this place in one piece. Now wasn’t the time to dwell upon any memories, least of all those that were not hers. She took a moment to detangle herself from both Billy and Dr. Harris. She had no real emotional attachment to either of them, and the less she thought about them both the sooner she would have her mind back to herself.

Until she had to kill again.

Karen banished the thought. She would rather starve to death. She wondered how long that would take. She thought about the sickening hunger that took over when DR. Harris had leaned over her, and she wondered if she would be able to manage it long enough to die. Then she considered the fact that suicide was suicide and murder was murder, and suddenly the fear of what might become of her after death had her frozen where she sat.

“Hey! What are you doing?” a man yelled, sticking his head out a nearby window.

Karen hurried out of the alley, tearing through the desolate streets, afraid to look back, even though she knew that demons of her own design were all that followed.

Growing winded, Karen slowed to a steady walk. She sniffled, realizing that she was crying. She wiped her face and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath.

A sense of self-loathing returned as she suddenly felt the need to amend some of her previous rationale: was suicide really that unforgivable a sin when compared to the many murders she was sure to commit, should she live long enough to commit them? She hadn’t meant to kill Doctor Harris; it had just…happened. How long would she be able to control herself next time? How many more innocent lives would she take before she found the courage to face God and Hell and do the right thing?

Was suicide the “right thing?”

Walking now at a slow but steady gait, Karen spotted what appeared to be a two-lane highway on the north side of the bottom of the hill. The bulk of the town falling on the other side of the hill, so Karen decided to continue east. She decided to let the Fates decide whether or not she might live to see another night. She would walk along the highway and attempt to thumb a ride before dawn. If she managed to find safety before the sun rose, she would live; if not, the Fates would have spoken and the natural order would have one less vampire to disturb it.

Feeling determined, Karen picked up her pace and hurried through the town’s outskirts. As she approached the freeway, she heard the powerful hum of a police cruiser turning down the street behind her. She turned around saw that it was further away than she thought, and hopped down into the drainage ditch along the side of the road.

Thick bushes and tangles of weeds ran along the sides of the ditch. Karen had no problem finding a suitable amount of cover before the car found its way up to her end of the road. Floodlights washed over the area, moving through and around the ditch as the car passed by. Karen held perfectly still between a sizeable rock and a thick mass of ragweed and fennel, holding her breath as the light passed right over her.

Karen heard a dispatcher say something through a heavy muffle of static, but she didn’t understand any of what was being said. Everything was in code. Had they spotted her? Was someone requesting backup?

The police cruiser made a sudden U-turn, and Karen’s heart began to hammer against her chest. She took a deep breath and braced herself for a fight, knowing she had nowhere else to run…knowing that she wouldn’t let them take her alive.

And then, with a zip of its engine, the cruiser was gone, speeding back up the hill toward the hospital.

Karen stayed where she was for a moment, listening for anything else, and then made a dash for the highway. She crossed her fingers, hoping no one followed, as she moved onto the highway and began down the shoulder.

The shoulder became scarce as the highway began to wrap around the foothills bordering the edge of town. Karen tried not to look at the steep drop to her right, a thin guardrail being her only protection from a long drop down to the bottom of the foothills. Karen continued, despite the thin trail, carefully moving aside and sticking her thumb up over the road every once in a while as a rogue truck whipped by. She saw no cars, not even one police cruiser, and she assumed that she was on some sort of back-road truck route. She still had no idea where she was or where she was going, or even if she would live long enough to get anywhere but further down the highway. She continued on, however, reminding herself that her life was now in the hands of the Fates.

As the highway wound down the other side of the foothills the shoulder returned, and Karen walked with a bit more ease knowing there was now more than a mere six inches of pavement between her, the speeding semis, and a quick plummet to her death. Most of the shoulder was not paved, but the adobe-laden ground was packed hard and felt sturdy enough. Karen raised her thumb as another massive rig came up behind her, but the driver ignored her.

Karen continued down the road, wondering if she might have considered a different route, finding a way out of town that didn’t have her dodging semis and attempting to hitchhike out of the middle of nowhere. She knew that death awaited her in the east, that in only a few hours, as she continued to walk, the sun would emerge over the horizon and engulf her. She would run for cover, but as the Fates would have it, she would not find any. So she would lie down and die not by her own hand but by the hand of nature with her flesh melting and her mind reeling.

She could live with that, she decided, and then she wondered what time it was. How many hours would she have to maintain her peace with this before the end finally came? She thought about the agony that only a few seconds of sunlight had caused her before, and she hoped that death by sunlight would be quick -- because it wasn’t going to be painless.

Getting herself agitated again, Karen quickened her pace. Her mind lost in self-pity and aimless anger, she fell into a full-blown sprint, pushing her legs to move as fast as they could. She lost her sneakers, but she did not care, suddenly realizing that she was catching up with the last truck to have passed her.

The truck was roughly a half a mile ahead of Karen when it occurred to her that she had to be running over sixty miles per hour. Her heart pounding and her lungs on fire, Karen slowed to a halt and then collapsed on the shoulder. She struggled to catch her breath because her throat felt dry and her lungs were heavy. She coughed a few times before finally finding a good, deep breath. She realized that she was terribly thirsty and wondered if it was blood or water that her body craved.

She looked up, saw a truck stop just ahead, pulled herself to her feet, and began to walk.

Karen found a water fountain near the restrooms. She drank slowly, the tepid water tasting sweet on her dry tongue. A sense of relief came over her as she found her thirst satisfied. She splashed her face with a handful of water and then wiped it down with the sleeve of her shirt. Realizing that there was likely a mirror in the ladies’ room, Karen moved to the adjacent building and entered the small building.

The bathroom smelled of stale urine and was brightly lit. Karen looked down as she entered, and then froze as the mirror became visible in her peripheral vision. Flashes of old horror movies suddenly came to mind. Did she still have a reflection?

Her heart suddenly pounding, Karen slowly looked up at the mirror. She almost jumped at the sight of herself in it, half expecting to see nothing but the dingy room behind her.

What else did the old tales have wrong?

Karen scowled as she realized that she was a filthy mess and the tips of her hair were matted with blood. She rinsed her hair in the dirty sink before she combed her fingers through the tangled mass.

She moved to the nearest stall to relieve herself, standing to find the toilet water dark scarlet in color. Expecting her period and thinking nothing else of it at first, she wondered how she was going to control the issue without resorting to toilet paper. As she glanced down at her clean pants, however, a memory stolen from Billy hit her as though she had uncovered the information from deep within the reaches of her own psyche: she hadn’t started her period; the blood in the toilet was…

Karen left the bathroom, revolted. Scanning the handful of parked semis, she began toward the long parking lot. She wondered how many more hours she had left until dawn. As she neared the parked trucks, each likely with a sleeping driver in the back part of its cab, Karen looked down at her bare feet and disheveled clothes. She realized that she appeared to be nothing more than a dirty vagrant.

She surveyed the few parked semis around her, trying to decide what approach she might take as she moved toward the driver’s side door of the nearest rig. She thought to knock hysterically and claim a madman was after her, hoping she might wake the driver quickly and prompt him to pull her in and rush her onto the highway. She hesitated, though, considering that the stunt might prompt an unwanted call to the police. Taking a moment to rethink her plan, Karen stood in the truck’s shadow and leaned against the massive vehicle.

Karen jumped as she heard the click of a shotgun being readied from within the cabin of the truck. She thought to run to the back of the truck, but instead she found herself frozen in fear as the driver’s side door flew open and a short, lean young woman dressed in tight jeans and a wife-beater hopped out and pointed the barrel straight at her head.

“You looking to rob someone?” the woman asked, a light hint of the South in her voice.

Karen put her hands up in the air, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible as her focus shifted between the end of the shotgun barrel and the unwavering eyes of the woman holding it. “I just need a ride.”

“Does this look like a bus hub to you?” A lock of short, wispy blond hair dropped over the woman’s face and she blew it away, her body unmoving.

Karen shook her head, unsure what to say. She was afraid to move, fearing that she might set off the woman’s trigger finger. She didn’t want to find out whether she would be capable of surviving such a close-range blast, especially given the particular weapon before her, and so she shifted her attention solely to the woman’s eyes and held perfectly still.

“It’s kind of a strange hour for a young woman your size to be out here, alone, don’t you think?” the woman continued, her accent growing thick with suspicion.

Karen took a deep breath and gritted her teeth as she spoke, “Either you’re going to shoot me, or you are going to help me out. Which one is it going to be?” There was a moment of silence as the two stared the other down, and then Karen added, “I’ve had a string of bad luck and I could really use a break right about now.”

The woman blinked hard, unsure how to respond, and then slowly lowered her weapon. “Where are you headed?”

Chapter Ten

The truck driver was nice enough to allow Karen to sleep in her cab as she drove into the day. Despite her preoccupied mind and the rumble of the moving vehicle, Karen fell asleep almost immediately. The cot was cramped and uncomfortable, but the warmth of the day held her in her slumber even as the truck moved through a long stretch of poorly maintained pavement. The curtain was thick enough to blot out all direct light, although hints of light penetrated through where the fabric met the walls, leaving the back area dim rather than dark. Karen lay undisturbed with a thin blanket pulled over her head as her consciousness slowly fell into the altered state of another’s design.

At first, there was nothing but darkness. Karen stood still, too apprehensive of her footing to move. Curiously, various surroundings slowly began to take shape. Karen focused on the strange outlines as they became more solid, and soon color and light began to give the images texture and dimension. She suddenly found herself on the veranda of the old Victorian house, standing beside the swinging bench. A light breeze moved through the warm evening air and the moon hung, full and bright, almost directly overhead.

Karen nervously looked around. Why on earth would she be dreaming about this place?

Karen quickly turned as the front door opened and Billy stepped out. “You,” she said, her tense body growing tighter.

Billy seemed surprised by Karen’s hostile attitude, yet he rushed up to her with little hesitation. He stopped about a yard from her, taken aback by the look of contempt on her face. “Karen! I thought I lost you!”

Karen’s heart sped up. As his scent hit her, she felt the need to turn away, horrified by her desire to feel his embrace. “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking up at the sky and shifting her attention to the moon.

“Looking for you, of course.”

“You brought me here?” she asked on a hunch.

Billy moved up behind her. “I didn’t want to leave you like that. You have to believe me -- I had no choice.” He tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. “I came back for you, but you were already gone.”

Karen closed her eyes. She didn’t want to face Billy, not like this. She found herself tormented by his presence, a deluge of thoughts racing through her mind. “This is just a dream,” she whispered to herself.

“Not just a dream,” Billy said, moving close to her and smelling her neck.

Karen’s throat quivered as she tried to take another breath. Her face quickly went tight with grief. “You turned me into a monster!” she cried as she spun around and threw a pathetic, poorly aimed punch in his direction.

Billy dodged the punch with ease, sympathetic yet amused with her display as he took hold of her arm and disabled her. “Please don’t hate me!”

Karen looked him in the eyes, and then cried out at the whirlwind of thoughts that filled her as he stared back.

“I killed a man!” she growled, her voice cracking.

Billy stared back, silent, his face going flat.

“But that doesn’t matter to you, does it?” she continued, distraught.

“At least you’re alive,” he said.

She turned away from him. “Alive? This isn’t alive!”

“It’s not dead!” Billy snapped, startling her with a sudden show of emotion.

“Why did you bring me here?” she breathed, already knowing the answer.

He answered without hesitation, “Because I had to see you again. I need you.”

Karen let out a sound that could have been either a laugh or a cry; not even she could determine which it was. “I’ll see you in Hell!”

“Don’t say that!”

“I hate this place!” Karen quickly added, “and I hate you!”

“You don’t really mean that,” Billy said. He glanced at the rotting eaves and peeling paint. Suddenly the two of them were far from the house, standing in the middle of the untamed fields that surrounded the place. The scents of wild mustard and fennel filled the air. The clear, perfect sky looked like a domed painting overhead. Karen and Billy stood in the moonlight, staring at one another.

Karen took a moment to reorient herself.

“You can’t change what you are now, just like I can’t change what I’ve always been,” Billy replied. “You can’t hate both of us forever.”

“Fine,” she said smugly, wanting to hurt him. “I’ll just hate you, then.”

Billy nodded, looking down. “Fair enough.”

Suddenly they were both on the ground with Billy on top of her. “One last kiss,” he added, “and then I’ll leave you alone forever.”

He moved to kiss her and she turned her head, her lips tight with contempt. In an instant he surprised her with his teeth in her neck, but he only held her long enough to take a quick taste. “That’s what I thought,” he said, drawing away.

“What?” Karen asked angrily. “What did you think?”

Billy sat up, still on top of her. They both knew that what they felt for one another was nothing more than a biochemical reaction that occurred when they mutually exchanged blood. Billy had thought he could handle it without harboring any residual feelings, but that had been gross misjudgment. He knew that Karen’s emotions were soured by the feelings that always came with a turn. Either she would come to terms with it or she would eventually fail to thrive and die. Deep down, Karen felt the same for him as he did for her. Did it really matter that all of this was “just” the result of a biochemical reaction? Wasn’t that all love really was for any animal?

He found her lips again and kissed her. Karen immediately lost herself in the feel of him, the taste of him, and the smell of him. Instinct taking over, Karen found herself unable to fight her desire any longer and she abandoned herself to the helpless fervor growing within her. Suddenly, they both lay naked together, their bodies hot against one another, kissing passionately as they rolled through the overgrowth.

She moved to her back, with him on top of her, and she spread her legs to allow him in. She closed her eyes as she felt him enter her, quickly and desperately, with one swift, agitated thrust. She drove her body into his, meeting his excitement with equal ardor, breathless as he filled her, desperate to take in every last bit of him. Their bodies moved forcefully against one another, neither able to hold back. It was like nothing else Karen had ever experienced on the physical plane, like a secret enchantment that only they shared, which brought about a hot, staggering bliss that threatened to drive her insane.

Yet she couldn’t stop, the madness was too wonderful and amazing to release, and so she pounded even harder into him, grinding him in even deeper, taking as much as he was willing to give. All at once, the pleasure became overwhelming, and she cried out, her body going tense and weak at the take time. She begged him to stop…begged him to continue, the fire between them transcending all that she was capable of enduring. He pushed himself deep inside her, and they cried out together, holding their bodies tight, desperate to stay together.

They lay silent and breathless, hungry for more, but unable to continue. Karen struggled to make sense of it all, her mind reeling.

“I’ll find you,” Billy whispered. He slowly got up, offering his hand to Karen.

She refused his hand, quickly jumped to her feet without his assistance, and turned to take a few dramatic steps from him. “What have you done to me?” she cried. “I hate you!”

Karen waited for a response, but there was none. She turned back, finding that he was gone. She felt her neck, the question consuming her as her eyes and nose searched for any remaining trace of him in the vicinity. “You don’t know anything about me!” she yelled, wanting to call him back.

She remained silent as the field and the sky began to fade to black, until there was nothing left but void…and her thoughts.

Chapter Eleven

“Hey,” the truck driver said, peeking through the curtain.

Karen quickly sat up, remembering where she was, noting that the truck’s engine was silent.

“I found you a place to stay,” the truck driver continued. “I know the woman who runs the place. She’ll take good care of you.”

Karen exited the cab. “Huh?”

The truck sat on the side of a dark residential road, looking illegally out of place. Crickets broke the silence of the night.

“You must’ve been tired. You slept all day,” the woman said, moving to the driver’s side door.

“Yeah…”

“Go on up the drive. Dottie’s waiting for you.”

The woman got into her truck, started up the engine, and began down the long, lonely street.

Lizbeth House was a two-story establishment carefully tucked in the middle of the suburban town of Monrovia. It stood on a good-sized plot of property, with tall vines and thick juniper bushes covering every inch of the perimeter so not even its neighbors knew how many women and children stayed there at any given time, or for what purpose.

Dottie, the proprietor of the house, slowly and shakily filled out a short stack of paperwork. She was a middle-aged woman with a kind face and she took her time as she questioned Karen.

“Are you sure you don’t want just a little dinner?” Dottie asked, glancing up at Karen over her reading glasses, her accent an interesting mix of Italian and New Yorker.

The house reeked of garlic and tomatoes. Karen never realized how awful spaghetti could smell. She shook her head. “Maybe later.”

Dottie nodded, and looked back down at her paperwork. “Do you have any medical conditions?”

“I can’t tolerate any sunlight at all,” Karen said, looking down.

“Porphyria?” Dottie asked, her days years ago as a registered nurse leaving her educated in the basics of numerous diseases and conditions.

Karen nodded, again feeling guilty for lying about something such as her health, knowing that there had to be people out there who truly did suffer from the condition Dottie mentioned, whatever that was.

“Which kind?”

Karen’s face flushed. “I…I’m not sure. I was just recently diagnosed.”

Dottie nodded, offering a look of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m still getting used to it,” Karen said, beginning to feel sorry for herself again.

Dottie sensed the change in Karen’s demeanor. She gave Karen a warm smile, hoping to keep her calm and focused. “Don’t worry. We can accommodate you.”

Karen nodded gratefully.

Dottie shuffled to the next page and handed it and the one below it to Karen. “I have a list of rules I need you to read and an agreement for you to sign.”

Karen looked over the rules. They looked pretty standard. No drugs. No contact with the “ex.” No disclosing the house’s whereabouts to any outside parties, with the exception of emergencies and relevant legal matters. No comparing of abuse stories or “battle scars.” No staying out past Dottie’s ten o’clock curfew. Karen read the agreement, which was basically a contract to follow the house rules, signed it and handed it back.

Dottie grabbed an empty file folder from a box tucked away on the floor beside a locked filing cabinet and arranged Karen’s paperwork with a satisfied nod. “You’ll need to get a replacement I.D., so I can put a copy in your records. No rush, just get it to me when you can. I’m sure you’ve been through enough for the time being.”

That much was true. Karen had been through plenty. She was due a break, even if it meant taking up a bed in a battered women’s shelter for a few days. Was she any less deserving than any of the other women staying there? Why, then, did she feel so terribly guilty? She considered that she could be putting people who clearly had been through enough in danger simply by being there. She stood.

“I don’t belong here. I should go.”

Dottie stood with her, her stance begging Karen to pause and reconsider. “It’s natural to have second thoughts. Everyone does. Try to remind yourself of the reasons you left in the first place before deciding so quickly to go back.”

Karen’s heart broke. Dottie thought she was considering returning to a home of abuse, when all Karen wanted was to ensure that she left before contributing additional scars to those under Dottie’s care. She looked down.

“I’m bad luck.”

“Oh, bless your heart!” Dottie quickly replied. “He wants you to think that.”

Karen shook her head. “No, it’s true. I’m a danger to everyone around me. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” She brushed past Dottie and started toward the door.

Dottie stayed where she stood, but her voice stretched across the room as she spoke, “Do you need a ride home?”

“I don’t have a home,” Karen said, not turning back. “I’m not really a battered wife, so you don’t need to protect me.” She opened the door and a gust of cool air flew in through the closed screen. She stared out into the night for a moment, wondering where she was going to go from there.

“I see,” Dottie began, the words coming out as a hushed sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

Dottie spoke as Karen flipped the latch to open the screen door, “You’re here, so why don’t you have some dinner before you go? A nice, hot meal?”

“I’m not hungry.” Karen pushed open the screen.

“Then, you’re not really homeless,” Dottie said, her voice loud enough for even those in the kitchen to hear her.

Karen turned back, her eyes acknowledging the woman’s seasoned wisdom, and turned once more to leave.

“Why don’t you sleep on it, then?” Dottie asked, insistent.

Karen stared out at the darkness once more. She wasn’t hungry. At least for tonight, it was likely that the only person Karen posed a threat to was herself. She had a roof over her head, someone willing to take her in long enough for her to get back on her feet, and for some crazy reason she was looking for excuses to return to the uncertainty of the streets. She had to wonder if perhaps she was being self-destructive, considering the many intense feelings she still harbored. Maybe, contrary to what her instincts were telling her, this was just where she needed to be. She allowed the screen door to snap shut, and then turned back to look Dottie in the eyes.

“If you want to leave tomorrow, I won’t try to stop you,” Dottie added, knowing that she almost had her.

Karen nodded. “I could use a hot shower.”

Dottie carefully moved up to Karen, coaxed her out of the doorway, and locked the door. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

Karen nodded, albeit reluctantly, and she moved stiffly as Dottie led her to the kitchen.

The kitchen was large, with an enormous dining area on one side and cooking appliances and utensils on the other. Five women and four children of various ages sat at a long, wooden table eating spaghetti and garlic toast. A blonde sat at one end of the table with a toddler. She handed a piece of garlic bread to the tow-headed boy, who had created an artful display with his messy dinner.

“Everyone, this is Karen,” Dottie said, offering her a seat.

Karen stood behind the chair as she surveyed the dining houseguests. She smiled and nodded at their greetings, doing her best to ignore the nauseating, concentrated stench of their food.

The group looked as lively as it was mixed. Sitting on the other side of the blonde was a striking Latina -- her face marked with the remnants of a black eye -- and beside her sat a small boy with dark, curly hair and a bright smile. He giggled and joked with another young boy. His mother, a tall black woman with long, frizzy hair, sat across the table, beside two brunettes.

A teenage girl sat on the far end of the table, keeping to herself. With her face painted white and her hair dyed black to match her clothes, she stood out more than any of the others. She looked depressed and lost, mourning the passing of someone or something great. Karen couldn’t help but sympathize with her.

Dottie took an empty seat near Karen and helped herself to a generous serving of spaghetti and garlic toast.

“Sure you don’t want anything?” Dottie asked Karen as she twirled her first bite of spaghetti onto her fork over her spoon.

Karen shook her head, smiling sheepishly. She began to wonder how she was going to live with these people, even for just a few days, without calling attention to the fact that she did not follow a normal diet. She looked over at the teenage girl, noticing that her plate was also untouched. Depression could destroy the heartiest of appetites, Karen considered. She realized that everyone there probably had enough of their own troubles to worry about -- they likely didn’t have it in them to think much about anyone else’s personal situation.

No one was going to consider the real reason behind her fast. It wasn’t as though she had “Vampire” written across her forehead for all to see. Who in their right mind would suspect such a crazy notion?

The smell of garlic became nauseating, but Karen held fast, forcing back the intense desire to gag. She silently watched as the group surrounding her returned to their meals, light conversation picking up here and there. She smiled politely, wanting to fit in and to give off a good first impression. What should it matter to her what these ten strangers think? she wondered, although deep down she knew that she had something in common with all of them. They all knew what it was like to fall victim to all different types of monsters, and in that Karen felt a strange kinship with the entire group.

There had been a time when Karen still had trust in relationships -- back when she still felt a connection to her immediate family. Back then her brother idolized her, her father was a hard-working and dedicated family man, and her mother was one of a dying breed of stay-at-home moms. Karen was confident, took risks, and survived loving and losing the first few young men in her life with minimal scars. She could handle rejection from a boyfriend. The sudden, strange rejection she construed from her father’s paranoia and her mother’s withdrawal left her wounded and unwilling to open herself to anyone new.

“Take it one day at a time,” Dottie said, reading Karen’s body language.

Karen glanced over at her, did her best to produce an affirming smile, and then turned away, lost in a sea of thought.

Chapter Twelve

Karen sat by herself in the living room, trying to distract her apprehensive mind with late-night television. She craved a hot cup of coffee, but was too fearful that her changed physiology would reject it, should she attempt to brew a fresh pot. She felt irritable and on edge, already resenting Dottie’s curfew and the alarm system she set at precisely ten o’clock each night. At the same time, Karen was grateful to have a roof over her head, dreading the day when she would have no choice but to leave the place and move on. She had only been at Lizbeth House for a few days, but already she was beginning to feel comfortable there, despite her lack of connection with the other women.

The only other person who stayed up late was Jia, the teenage girl. She was a closet smoker, of both cigarettes and pot, a fact Karen soon learned when the girl tried to smoke in the downstairs bathroom when the rest of the house was asleep. She seemed to believe that blowing her smoke into the fan and then gassing the room with air deodorizer was enough to mask either scent, but Karen could smell the smoke even from across the house. Karen said nothing about it, even when Jia stopped to chat with her, reeking and high.

For the second time that night, Jia came through the room, smelling of tobacco, pot, mouthwash, and rose-scented hand lotion. She noticed that Karen was watching a particularly funny monologue on television and sat down in a reclining chair to watch the rest of the act.

Karen could barely focus on what she was watching. Her mind was elsewhere. As unpleasant as it was to think about, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was late. She considered the stress her body had been through, and she weighed the possibility of her menstrual cycle being delayed as a result. It hadn’t stopped because she was a vampire, had it? Billy had been born a vampire, hadn’t he?

“You okay?” Jia asked.

“I don’t know,” Karen said. “I think I might be pregnant,” she quickly added, surprising them both with the unexpected statement. She found herself hit with a sudden feeling of panic that she couldn’t hide.

“I know where Dottie keeps the test kits,” Jia said with a sudden look of defiance in her eyes.

The test took three minutes and Karen kept herself locked alone in the smelly bathroom as she waited for the results. She wondered how reliable the test would be, given her new physiology, but when the control window lit up she knew it was accurate. The test window was unreadable until the second grueling minute hit and then it came back undeniably positive.

Karen collapsed to the floor as she cried out. “God damn it!”

Jia spoke through the door, “So, you’re pregnant?”

The small room suddenly felt increasingly warm and Karen could feel her body break out in a heavy sweat. She sat on the tile floor, ignoring Jia’s question for the moment, her senses dulled and her heart racing.

“Karen?” Jia asked, concern in her voice.

“I’m pregnant,” Karen answered, looking up at the door as if turning to face Jia.

“I’m sorry.”

A heavy knot swelled up in Karen’s throat and she growled in frustration as her emotions got the best of her. What would she do now? She got to her feet and moved to the sink. She cried out once more when she saw that both her tears and the sweat running down the side of her face were stained red with blood.

“Are you okay?” Jia asked.

“I’m fine,” Karen cried. She rinsed off her face until the sink ran clear before she slowly moved to the door and opened it.

Jia met Karen with a sympathetic face, and immediately Karen broke down into more tears and retreated to compose herself and wash her face again. When she emerged a few minutes later, she brushed past Jia without looking at her. Working hard to hold herself together, she made her way back into the living room.

Jia followed her in, and grabbed a box of tissues beside the sofa. She handed them to Karen, who gratefully accepted.

“If you need, I know of a place that can…take care of it,” Jia offered.

Karen looked down, trembling at the thought. Now she had to decide which would be the lesser of two evils -- to kill her unborn child or to release one more monster out into the world. She had to wonder how she would be able to live with herself, no matter which option she chose. Patting her eyes with a tissue before Jia could see her newly forming tears, Karen looked back up, her eyes reflective as she glanced back at the girl.

“It’s not so bad,” Jia said, her face sincere and filled with hurt. “I’ve gone there…a few times.”

Karen’s eyes met Jia’s for a quick moment, and then she quickly looked back down, disturbed by the information. Jia was so young and yet there was not a perceptible shred of innocence left in her. How tragic that someone her age would have to give up such a precious commodity so early along her path. Karen wondered if perhaps she had taken her childhood, as crazy as it had been, for granted.

Karen placed a hand on her stomach, knowing what was there, and wondered why such a dilemma had been cast upon her. Then, sitting across the coffee table from the broken, tormented girl, it came to her, why was anyone faced with such decisions?

With a new resolve she turned back to Jia. “Maybe you could show me where it is tomorrow evening, before curfew?”

Chapter Thirteen

The clinic was only a few blocks from Lizbeth House, the entire walk was at a steep down slope. Jia put out her cigarette as they approached it. She opened the door for Karen and let it swing shut behind her as she entered and made eye contact with the receptionist. She had faced those eyes many times already and was relieved that for once she was not there on her own business. She walked with Karen up to the counter and smiled at the receptionist as if they had never met before.

“My friend needs to see a doctor,” Jia said.

The receptionist switched her attention to Karen, her face seeming to hold an unalterable scowl, even when she tried to smile. “Have we seen you here before?”

Karen shook her head. “No.”

The receptionist handed Karen a short stack of paperwork piled neatly on a clipboard with a chain-attached pen. “Fill out these forms and have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”

Karen was nothing like the other women there, she reassured herself. Her circumstances were unusual and her mind had been clouded at the time she conceived. She had been intoxicated by the sight and smell of Billy. She hadn’t been in her right mind. Karen weighed the current state of the others there, and then considered that perhaps they, too, had not been in their right minds at the times when they conceived.

Karen looked over the list of information the clinic required of her, pausing as she realized that she would need a form of identification. She also noticed that, although the clinic offered free counseling and consultations, the procedure was going to require payment upfront. Feeling herself beginning to break out in a sweat, Karen jumped to her feet and returned to the receptionist’s window.

“My wallet was stolen,” Karen tried, her face flushing and her body going hot.

“And that’s my problem…how?” the receptionist asked, clearly having developed a thick skin from years of working in such a miserable job. She refused to look Karen in the eyes, pretending that the text stretching across her computer required the bulk of her attention.

“I need you to work with me here! This is a very special situation!” Karen said, trying her hardest to establish eye contact and will her into acquiescence.

“This is not a free clinic, Miss,” the receptionist said, still staring at her monitor. “I can get you the paperwork to apply for financial aid and I get you in for a free consultation, if you’d like to take a number and have a seat–”

“Forget it!” Karen tossed the clipboard onto the counter and stormed off.

Jia hurried through the maze of chairs and met Karen in the middle of the room. “What’s the problem?”

“I have to go,” Karen said, as she rushed to the door and hurried out.

Karen moved swiftly down the sidewalk, Jia struggling to keep up. Karen wiped at her face and neck, knowing now why stereotypical vampires always wore black -- black, of all colors, was the least likely to stain, and sweat and tears were impossible to avoid completely. Distraught, Karen began to run.

“Hold up!” Jia yelled, falling behind even further as she stopped to light a fresh cigarette. “Why are you running?” she yelled, quickly falling out of breath.

Karen cried, growling as her face went wet with another ghastly stream of bloody tears.

Jia slowed, her lungs heavy under the strain of her short sprint, then stopped completely and bent over to keep from falling over while she took a moment to catch her breath. She looked up just in time to see Karen run aimlessly across the intersection up ahead. A fully loaded pickup immediately slammed into her at a good forty-five miles per hour and threw her several yards as it screeched to a halt.

Karen slammed into the concrete, only feet in front of the stalled truck, with a horrific thud.

“Karen!” Jia hurried, barely breathing, to the accident site.

Karen lay motionless for a moment. Suddenly she jerked to life as both the driver of the pickup and Jia ran to her side. She sat up, disoriented, with blood seeping from cuts, breaks, and scrapes on the entire right side of her body. A particularly nasty gash ran along the side of her head, her shirt was torn almost completely in two, and it looked as though she might have broken her arm. She ignored both Jia and the driver who hit her, as both attempted to keep her still.

“She just came out of nowhere!” the driver insisted.

Jia knelt down beside Karen as a few more onlookers began to move in for a closer peek. “You’ll be okay. Someone’s calling 911. We’ll get you to a hospital.”

“No hospitals!” Karen cried, and then suddenly she stood firmly on her feet and ran down the road.

Jia tried to run after her, but it was only a moment before Karen was out of sight. She stood only a few feet away from the trembling man.

“I tried not to hit her!” the motorist felt the need to say, breaking the long silence.

“I’m not so sure she wanted you to miss,” Jia said, taking one last drag from her cigarette and putting it out before beginning her solitary walk back to Lizbeth House.

Chapter Fourteen

Half of the household was at the front door when Karen finally returned, three minutes before curfew. Dottie moved ahead of everyone else to assess Karen’s condition. Karen was taken aback, evading Dottie’s attempt to examine her head.

Karen held her torn shirt over herself, crossing her arms to minimize the visible damage. She had cleaned herself up at a nearby gas station, and there was no longer any evidence of injury to her person.

“Jia said you got hit by a truck!” Dottie exclaimed. “She said you were really hurt!”

“Jia obviously exaggerated the story,” Karen said, brushing past Dottie and beginning toward her bedroom.

Jia moved to follow Karen. “I know what I saw!” She jumped back as Karen, after offering her a split second of eye contact and a blank scowl, swung the door shut with an angry flick of her hand.

Dottie and a couple of others, including Jia’s mother, came up behind her.

“Leave her alone for now,” Jia’s mother said. “She said she was okay.”

“You don’t understand–” Jia tried.

“Just give her some time,” Dottie said, ushering Jia and the rest of the group back down the hall.

“She had a huge gash across her head!” Jia insisted.

As the small group entered the living room, Dottie went to a panel near the front door and armed the security system.

“Obviously, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it was,” Jia’s mother said, claiming a skein of yarn and a pair of knitting needles as she sat down in the living room.

“Whatever,” Jia said. She stormed into the kitchen to raid the chocolate ice cream, wishing she had thought to sneak off and smoke one last cigarette before Dottie had set the alarm.

Although the night passed slowly, Karen stayed in her room, avoiding the rest of the house. At around two o’clock, Karen slipped out of the room and hurried to the bathroom. She closed and locked the door just as Jia appeared in the hallway. She abruptly turned on the shower, hoping to forget about the rest of the world for a while, as she stripped off her ratty clothes and stepped into the old porcelain tub. She slowly moved beneath the hot stream of water, and a satisfying shiver rushed across her skin as she soaked every inch of her weary body and took in the warm steam. Never before had a shower felt so good. She swallowed a few mouthfuls of water, hoping that it was thirst, and not hunger, that was causing her mouth to grow dry.

After scrubbing herself down with borrowed soap and soothing her tangled hair with Dottie’s sweet-smelling cream rinse, Karen was grateful that Lizbeth House had a small clothes donation bin of its own, conveniently located in the main bathroom so that the women might rifle through the small selection without any embarrassment. Putting on a plain, dark t-shirt and a pair of soft, worn jeans that looked perfectly fine, expect for a small orange paint stain on one of the rear pockets, Karen felt somewhat human for the first time in days. She pulled her hair into a braid and sat down on the closed toilet seat, hoping that she might stall long enough for Jia to give up her silent vigil on the other side of the door. The girl always smelled of smoke and her presence was unmistakable.

Jia proved to be persistent and after close to an hour Karen finally lost the last threads of her patience and opened the door. “You need to back off!” she warned, facing the girl through the threshold.

“I know what you are,” Jia said, moving to block Karen’s path.

“You know more than I do, then.” Karen brushed past Jia, knocking her aside and walked down the hall.

Jia followed Karen as she made her way across the house to the kitchen.

Karen poured herself a glass of water and sipped at it, staying by the sink as she tried to decide her next move.

“Why won’t you just admit it?” Jia asked, taking Karen’s secrecy personally.

“Because it’s none of your business,” Karen growled. She finished the glass and poured herself another.

“So, you’re not denying it?”

Karen set down her glass and slowly turned to the girl with a frustrated breath. “What is it to you?”

Jia cleared her throat, her demeanor nervous and uncertain. “I want you to change me.”

Karen couldn’t help but allow a perplexed laugh to escape her as she turned away from the girl. “You’re out of your mind!”

“I don’t belong…here! You came here for a reason. I’m sure of it!” Jia continued, the rejection clearly shaking her.

Karen wanted to ask Jia why she would find such a horrific life so attractive, but instead she simply walked toward the door. As she reached the living room, Jia came up behind her, brandishing a butcher knife.

“Stop!” Jia cried, firmly clutching the thick knife handle in one hand, pressing the far edge of the sharp blade against the wrist of the other. Tears streamed down her face.

Karen froze, fearing that Jia was capable of following through with her threat. “You don’t know what you’re doing!” Karen pleaded.

“Don’t I?” A strange smile crept across her face, and then in one quick move the blade sliced through to the bone and fell to the floor. Jia’s smile wavered as she saw the massive streams of blood leaving her with every pump of her speeding heart. She looked back at Karen with surprise and horror as her legs failed her and her sight went dim.

“Somebody, help!” Karen yelled as she ran to Jia’s side and tried to stop the bleeding with a towel. The hunger was indeed beginning to set in and the drive to take the wound to her mouth was overwhelming. But she closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth to keep from seeing and smelling the warm liquid that now covered them both.

“You can save me,” Jia cried.

“I can’t!” She wasn’t a monster, Karen reminded herself several times over. The thought was tempting just to finish the girl off, as her odds of surviving weren’t looking good. She did entertain, for only a moment, attempting to infect Jia to save her life, but Karen knew that she would hate herself even more than she already did if she were to go through it. She wouldn’t turn and unleash upon the world a confused, angry teenage vampire.

She wasn’t a monster; she would not feed off a dying child…

Karen looked away, forcing her eyes shut. She began to sweat profusely, holding on to every last ounce of strength in her to keep from taking the wound to her mouth.

Jia began to shiver, her body going into shock.

Dottie hurried in, almost passing out as she saw the gruesome, bloody scene. She covered her mouth and Karen was certain the woman was going to scream.

“Call an ambulance!” Karen yelled.

Dottie nodded and disappeared to find the phone.

But it was already too late. Karen slowly opened her eyes and looked down, only to find that Jia was already dead.

Chapter Fifteen

No one held Karen responsible for Jia’s death, although Karen did harbor some guilt over the incident. Jia had asked too much of her, putting her in a no-win situation. She had brought death upon herself. Still, Karen knew that she was partially responsible for what happened. She wondered if there was any other way that she might have responded, some way she might have averted the entire incident before it went as far as it did.

Karen knew that she would need to leave Lizbeth House. Perhaps the pregnancy was beginning to drain her, or maybe it was all of the quick and drastic repairs her body had made after the accident, but what had been a light thirst only hours before was now clear and defined hunger.

She needed to leave this place while she was still lucid enough to go -- but again she was plagued with the question, “Where?”

She procrastinated, sitting on her bed and thinking until dawn. Her thoughts were too confused for her to do anything else. When dawn came, she went to bed and closed her eyes. Karen wondered if she and Billy still had enough of a connection for one last contact to be made. She had too many unanswered questions to remain sane, and she hoped that the way to finding him might come to her h in her sleep. Unfortunately, she had not obtained the appropriate memories from Billy to perform the act on her own. I It was also possible that she simply did not possess the skill.

Little did she know, Billy’s mind continued to reach out to hers each dawn, watching for any last chance that she might have him back. This morning, he took her feelings as an open invitation.

Karen recognized the dark void immediately and wondered if she had somehow put herself there. As the scenery returned her to the last place on Earth that she would choose to set herself, Karen knew that this dream was Billy’s doing. She watched as the fields developed around her and the Victorian house was a short distance away. She took a deep breath and waited, her heart pounding so loudly that she was sure he could hear it, although she could not yet see or hear him approaching through the overgrowth.

Billy seemed to come out of nowhere, coming up from behind, and startling her as he whispered into her ear, “I’ve missed you.”

Karen quickly turned to face him, his scent hitting her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I’m sorry.” He gazed into her eyes with a smile. “I knew you’d be back.”

He moved to touch her, and she backed away just enough to keep him from making contact.

Karen stared back, her face blank, clearly doing her best to ignore both his scent and the vague connection that still held between them. “I need some information.”

“Of course you do.”

“Will you help me?”

Billy’s smile faded, but his gaze was unwavering. “That depends on what you want to know.”

Karen went silent. How could she get the information she needed from him without alerting him of her pregnancy? Moreover, did she really have the right not to tell him? She knew that the child was his -- even if she didn’t plan on keeping it, did he still have a right to know?

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Billy said.

The guilt across Karen’s face was immediate and revealing. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I can tell.”

Karen looked down.

Billy moved slightly closer. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Karen sighed deeply, refusing to look back up. She shook her head, and then informed him, “I’m pregnant.”

Billy watched her for a moment, looking surprised. “You think you’re pregnant?”

“I know I’m pregnant.”

Billy gently took Karen’s chin in his hand and brought her eyes back up to his. “Who’s the father?”

“You are.”

“You’re sure?”

Karen nodded, and then quickly turned away from him, her thoughts on the matter clear.

“You plan on getting rid of it?” Billy asked, obvious pain suddenly deepening his voice.

Karen didn’t respond.

“There have been a lot of lucky shots in our family,” Billy said. “But they have been exceptions to the rule. Neither of us may have this chance again.”

“That would probably be for the best,” Karen said.

“Then why do you need me?” Billy asked angrily.

Karen turned back, equally as angry. “How do I survive without killing or turning half of the city in the process? How do I die without facing the sun, or enduring some other excruciating pain?” Karen’s face went spiteful and her throat went tight as she continued, staring him down. “How do I ensure that this monster growing inside of me is good and dead once I find a doctor willing to help me cut it out?”

Billy’s eyes went wide and Karen thought for sure that he was going to hit her, but he remained still. “Figure it out for yourself,” he growled. He turned away, disappearing like a magician in a cheap camera trick, and then suddenly the scenery around Karen began to fade.

“Wait! I’m sorry!” Karen cried. “Please don’t leave me like this!”

Karen remained in a limbo between the darkness and the little that remained of the field surrounding her, the break in their contact seemingly halted by her plea. Karen looked around. Billy was still nowhere to be seen.

“Are you still here?” Karen called out.

No response.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said…that,” Karen said, her eyes searching for any signs that Billy was still out there, somewhere. “Billy?”

Suddenly Billy was upon her, his hand to her throat, his face in hers. She choked and gasped, grabbing at his hand and staring him down as he growled “Kill my child and I will track you down. I will hunt you like an animal and make you wish you were dead. Am I clear?”

Karen did her best to nod and Billy let go of her with a forceful push. She grabbed her throat, gasping and coughing as the air that had been trapped in her lungs left her and fresh air finally rushed in. She looked up, seeing that Billy was still there. The partial void behind him, in contrast to the surreal patches of scenery remaining here and there, somehow made his image larger than life. For a moment, watching him watching her, she truly knew fear.

Billy took a small step forward and she took one step back.

“I’m sorry,” Billy said, truly looking remorseful. “But sometimes ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Still holding her throat, Karen nodded.

There was a rustling in the overgrowth nearby and both Karen and Billy turned to search for the cause.

“Who is that?” Karen asked.

Billy watched for a short while longer, looking slightly shaken. “Must have been the wind. There’s no one else here.”

Karen wasn’t sure if she believed him, as confident as he sounded.

Billy turned back to her, looking sure of himself. “I didn’t pull anyone else in here. It’s just you and me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Karen continued to eye the area, wondering if Billy had as much control over his world as he thought he had.

“Positive.”

Karen labored to come up with a reply, something to let him know that she still had some control over the conversation, but she only managed to stare blankly ahead, her eyes distracted and confused.

Billy put both of his arms behind his back. “You want answers? Come and take them.”

Karen froze, trying to look unimpressed as he inched closer to her, making a display of exposing his neck. She reminded herself to breathe as he whispered into her ear, “I know you’re hungry.”

“This is just a dream,” she said aloud, her mouth salivating and her teeth growing at the concentrated scent emanating from the nape of his neck.

“Then why are you holding back?”

Karen didn’t answer him. Instead, she struggled to weigh the temptation standing before her against its many possible repercussions. Her gut told her that Billy was attempting to trap her somehow. She wondered just what degree of connection any further exchange between them might potentially reconstruct. The surrealistic idea that this strange, lucid dream held more physical properties than it actually should was still difficult for her to understand. She closed her eyes as he breathed onto her neck, both of his arms still held firmly behind his back. She thought to turn away, but his scent held her where she stood. She had forgotten how intoxicating it was.

“It’s not the real thing, but it will get you by for a few days, just the same,” Billy said, knowing that he had her on the fence. “Don’t ask me how it works.”

“Why?” Karen asked, knowing that she was not going to be able to hold out much longer. Her stomach ached for sustenance. She did not draw away. She could not.

“There is someone more important for me to worry about than you, now,” Billy said. “You’d best follow suit.”

Karen hated the idea of giving in. This had grown to be an issue of principle and she couldn’t stand the thought of Billy winning. On the other hand, if what Billy said was true, she could ensure right now that when she woke up at dusk she would be absolutely no threat to anyone around her.

Shuddering, Karen sank her teeth into his neck. It felt good finally to let loose, to tear into his flesh, and fill her greedy stomach. Billy’s thoughts and memories began to wander into hers, and the questions and answers at the forefront of his mind began to filter in. The answers that she needed came to her and suddenly she was able to confirm her suspicions as to why Billy had offered himself so selflessly.

He planned on keeping their connection solid until he could track her down. He was intent on her carrying their child to term, no matter what it took. He knew there was a chance, albeit rare, that the child could be born human; he also knew that it could be born fully turned, or somewhere – or something – in between.

Karen carefully processed the new information, now knowing that should she do anything more to compromise her pregnancy, Billy would make her pay for it for the rest of her unnatural life. She knew that there was no escaping him; no matter where she went, he would eventually find her. Until then, he would stalk her in her sleep.

Knowing that there was even a small chance that the baby could be born human she might need to reassess her resolve in destroying it.

For the moment, nothing mattered as much as the fact that she was currently getting what she needed from Billy. There would be plenty of time later for regret. Right now, there was nothing to do but revel in the satisfaction of a full stomach, a few stolen memories, the warm, metallic taste of Billy’s blood flowing through her mouth, and his amazing musky scent.

“Come back to me,” Billy whispered.

Karen continued to drink, hating him and loving him at the same time. She wanted to pull away from him and tell him the first hurtful words that came to mind, and at the same time wanted nothing more than to hold onto that one moment for the rest of eternity.

“I’ve never been with anyone like you before,” Billy continued. “We fit. We belong together.”

“Don’t,” Karen said, feeling full, but unwilling to let him go quite yet.

“I can’t help it.” Billy suddenly had his teeth in her, but again only for a moment, just long enough to find out where she was.

He moved to her lips, the taste of her blood on his breath as he continued, “I love you, and I know you love me, too.”

“No,” Karen whispered, shaking her head one moment, and then quickly abandoning herself in his embrace and reveling in his kiss, the next.

She felt her body go weightless and opened her eyes to find that she and Billy now hovered together, high in the clouds. Water vapor glistened in the moonlight, against the backdrop of the dark, starry sky.

Billy kissed her neck, desperately tearing at her clothes. “Please don’t say no,” he whispered back, pulling her close.

“No,” Karen whispered defiantly, tearing at his clothes as well.

Piece by piece, their clothing fluttered off, into the wind, and then disappeared into the clouds. Their bodies came together, each ravenous for the other’s touch. They kissed and caressed one another, hot and hungry for more. She felt him grow hard against her, hot and pulsating between her legs. She guided him into her as she moved to take another taste of his neck. He filled her magnificently, the magic between them undeniable, and they both let out a gratified sigh as they brought their bodies together.

They swam through the air, thrusting and driving into one another, moving fiercely and vigorously and letting the excitement build between them. She clinched her legs around him, compelling him to bear into her as deep as she could take him, and then she held him there, jutting and rolling her hips, grinding up against him. She cried out, moving harder and faster, her climax rolling and building until she could take no more, and then she held him tightly against her as he came. They held together for a moment, neither willing to part quite yet. They floated limply and silently through the clouds.

“Stay where you are. Wait for me. I’ll pick you up.”

“And if I decide to disappear?”

Billy shrugged, although his eyes told her that she had best comply. “I’ll find you.”

They pushed away from one another at the same time and the scenery around them once again began to dissipate into the black void.

Karen watched his eyes as he slowly drifted away. Once again, he was gone, and all that was left was darkness.

Karen startled awake as an irate Dottie charged into her room. Her lips went tight as she looked Karen in the eyes. “Did you give anyone Lizbeth House’s contact information?”

Karen shook her head. Had Billy found her already?

“Someone is waiting for you at the bottom of the drive. Would you like me to call the police?” Dottie asked, her face flat.

“No,” Karen said, getting up and going to her shoes.

“Don’t go with him,” Dottie pleaded. “I know of a place across town that could probably take you in for a night or two.”

Karen looked down and Dottie fell silent.

Karen refused to look back at any of the other women on her way out, afraid of the judgment she might see in their faces. No one said another word as Karen made her way to the front door, and then reluctantly exited the house.

Chapter Sixteen

Karen walked down the long, steep driveway, expecting Billy to appear out of nowhere, startling her as he had in her dreams. Billy wasn’t there. To Karen’s surprise, an unidentified middle-aged man stood silently waiting for her, with an enormous canine at his heels. The man wore jeans and a flannel shirt over his round, aged body and he had a long, grey beard that matched his wild, frizzy hair.

Karen stopped in the center of the driveway, trying to determine whether the man was a potential threat. The canine, a large brown wolf, had striking blue eyes just like the man. It appeared to be well-trained, standing calmly beside his master and watching Karen intently as she tried to decide if she should retreat back to the house.

“Karen?” the man called, seeming to recognize her.

“Who’s asking?”

“A concerned bystander,” the man said.

“Where’s Billy?” Karen asked.

The man shook his head. “I was hoping you could help me find him.”

Confused, Karen considered her options. Another good look at the intimidating animal beside him held her where she stood. “Got a leash for that dog?”

“He’ll behave.”

Karen looked back at the house, seeing that a half dozen faces now stared out the nearest window, all of them watching her indecision. Those faces, scowling at her… judging her. Karen took a deep breath. Trying to look confident, clasping her hands together to hide the fact that she was shaking, Karen made her way to the bottom of the driveway to confront the man and his dog.

“Who are you?” Karen asked, her voice firm but unthreatening.

“Another enigma, just like you.” He pointed to an old, beat up van parked at the curb. “Hop in. I think we should have a chat.”

Knowing that she didn’t have anything to lose, Karen shrugged, a rush of adrenaline moving through her. “Fair enough.”

The man opened the front passenger door and the wolf barreled into the van before Karen. He moved past the front seats and carefully watched as Karen hesitantly climbed into the front passenger seat. The back of the van was completely devoid of seats, instead filled with bags of clothes, food, and water along one side and several blankets and pillows piled up on the other. Karen held her breath, unsure of the animal, as the man left the two of them alone together and walked around to the driver’s side. A sigh of relief escaped her as he got in and the wolf made itself comfortable on a ratty, fur-coated blanket.

The man started up the van, checked for traffic, and then pulled onto the street. He waited until he hit a comfortable speed, and then began. “I’m Drew.”

“And you weren’t sent here by Billy?”

“No.”

“Then who sent you?”

Drew’s face contorted in thought as he tried to decide how best to explain himself. “In my line of work, a person sees a lot of things. I’ve dealt with all sorts of nasty creatures and corrupted humans, helped a lot of lost souls find their way, but never once in fifty years have I ever encountered an actual sanguinarian vampire.”

Karen peeked in the back to ensure the wolf was still lying down, and then stared Drew down. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Drew kept his eyes on the road. “I’m sure you don’t, just like I have no clue as to who was hiding in the overgrowth this morning, watching you and your boyfriend necking like teenagers.”

“You don’t know what you saw!” Karen snapped, surprised and relieved to see that the wolf remained still, despite her raised voice. “And Billy is not my boyfriend!”

Drew nodded, satisfied with her answer. “How long have you been a vampire?”

Karen shrugged. Drew seemed confident in what he knew, and trying to deny it any further would only make her look foolish. “About a week.”

“I’m sorry,” Drew said.

Karen wasn’t impressed. “What were you doing in my dream?”

“Well…” He thought a moment longer. “It’s kind of my job, my second job, to track down Astral parasites that prey on the sleeping.”

“Astral parasites?” Karen asked, suddenly questioning the man’s sanity. “What do you do when you find these parasites? Kill them?”

“Depends on the parasite.”

Karen stared back blankly, not sure how to respond, wondering if perhaps she might very well be sitting beside her own death., Should she need to make a sudden run for her life, she wondered if she would be able to outrun the wolf long enough for it to lose her trail. She checked the wolf once more, and then glared back at Drew, wiping at her forehead as she felt herself beginning to sweat.

“Somebody’s got to police the Altered States,” Drew said dryly. “Without dream-walkers like me, sleep would be a very dangerous place.”

“I see,” Karen said.

“I’m very concerned with Billy’s ability to manipulate the unconscious mind,” Drew said.

“Why is that?”

“It seems that, if he wanted to, he could sustain himself very much in the same way as the energy vampires I regularly hunt and subdue. I have no choice but to track and follow him, and until I can get close enough to him, you’re going to be our link.”

Karen shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“If I have to.”

Karen nodded, seeming to approve. She shuddered as she thought about her last encounter with Billy. The emotional spell he had over her was more than she could take. More specifically, the confusing mix of emotions he filled her with was maddening, and she felt desperate to end it. “Couldn’t you just kill him in his sleep?”

“You’re that fond of him, eh?”

“You have no idea,” Karen said, growing agitated.

Drew nodded, understanding.

“So, couldn’t you?” she asked, refusing to let the question go.

“Depends.” Drew flipped on the van’s high beams as he turned onto a road leading up the nearby foothills.

Stunted evergreens lined the otherwise desolate two-lane road. Karen watched as the van took them higher up into the foothills, watching the city lights flicker in the distance below. She thought to query Drew even further on the extent of his abilities, but a more pressing question came to the forefront, “Where are you taking us?”

“Somewhere there won’t be any innocent bystanders.”

“Care to elaborate a little on that?” Karen asked, no longer able to hide that she was growing increasingly nervous and distrusting of her new company.

“He’s trying to track you down. When he’s close enough to pinpoint you, do you want it to be at that shelter, or at a remote camping site, far away from your friends?”

Drew turned down an unmarked road and all signs of artificial light outside disappeared, except the bright glare of the van’s high beams against the dirt road ahead. Drew pulled the van off the road with a quick turn of the wheel as they passed a large, white boulder, and then directed the vehicle down an overgrown path, moving ever deeper into the dark wilderness.

Chapter Seventeen

Drew had the small campsite set up quickly, not far from the quiet van, facing the sliding side door. The site was relatively cleared of debris already, and Drew only needed to add a few fresh pieces of kindling and fresh logs -- which he had piled and ready on the far side of camp -- to the half burned stack already sitting in the fire pit. The campfire lit quickly and easily, and then Drew disappeared into the van to sort through his cookware and food stores.

Karen sat on a log near the fire pit, watching as Andy, the wolf, followed Drew through his routine, listening to his every command and staying out of the way as he set up camp. Now he sat, wagging his tail and sitting by the crackling fire, waiting patiently for Drew to return.

Drew hurried back with his arms filled with supplies. He carried an iron skillet in one hand, balancing a couple of canned goods and a manual can opener inside it. In the other hand, he grasped a gallon jug of water and a large metal spoon.

Drew dropped all of his supplies by the fire, and then set the skillet over the pit. He emptied out a can of beans and some kind of canned meat, mixing them together in the skillet, his movements quick over the tall, active fire. He scooped a chunk of meat from the mix and tossed it over to Andy, who caught it mid-air and swallowed it in one gulp.

“So, just how long do you expect us to be out here?” Karen asked.

“No more than a couple of days,” Drew said, looking sure of himself.

Karen nodded, looking down. Her thoughts wandered back to her baby and she tortured herself again with the question of whether what she carried could be human. She resolved that, should she last another nine months and should she actually carry the baby to term and find it human at birth, she would have no choice but to give it up for adoption. But, then, what would she do if the child turned out to be something other than human?

The thought horrified her, knowing that for each day that she delayed her decision, the mass of cells inside her was becoming more and more distinguishable as a child. She abruptly stood, needing a moment to herself, but Andy quickly stood with her. He growled, his eyes suggesting that she return to her seat.

Karen looked over at Drew, who glanced back seemingly unconcerned. “I thought you said your dog was tame,” she said, her voice low.

“Take your seat and you’ll be fine,” Drew said, stirring his meal and picking out another good-sized chunk of meat for Andy.

Karen slowly sat back down and Andy snagged a piece of meat out of the air as he returned to his smooth, flat spot by the fire. He circled around himself a few times for good measure, snorted as he eyed Karen once more, and then found a comfortable position just out of range of the campfire’s sparks.

“So, you’re just going to keep me here until he comes? Is that it?” Karen asked.

Drew didn’t respond.

“What if he goes looking for me at the shelter first, and finds that I’m no longer there? Those people’s lives will be on your head, not mine,” Karen continued.

“He’s not going to look for you at the shelter,” Drew said, pulling the skillet from the fire and setting it on the log beside him. “He knows you won’t be there.”

“Shows how much you know,” Karen snorted, both jealous and disgusted at the sight of Drew eating the lukewarm food.

“He knows you won’t be there because I told him so.”

“When did you tell him that?” Karen asked, surprised.

“I followed him out of your dream this morning.” Drew smiled. “We had a long talk. He knows we’re somewhere out in the hills, just not specifically where. He’ll inevitably try to contact you again tomorrow morning.”

“Why didn’t you just do what you needed to do when you had him this morning?” Karen asked.

Drew’s smile held, but Karen could tell by his eyes that her question had him annoyed. “That gets complicated,” he finally said.

Andy barked, startling Karen.

Drew raised a brow at the wolf. “I saw the size of that rabbit you caught earlier. The rest of this is mine.”

Knowing better than to continue begging, Andy got comfortable once more with a frustrated huff.

“Smart dog,” Karen said.

“He’s not a dog,” Drew snapped.

Karen looked back over at Andy. No, he definitely was no mere dog, and perhaps he did deserve to be addressed with a bit more dignity than that. “Smart wolf,” Karen amended. She watched in disbelief as Andy’s tail flopped across the ground a few times in appreciation of the comment.

Drew ignored her, finished his dinner, and gulped water straight from the jug. He immediately cleaned off the skillet and set it down by the fire.

“So,” Drew began, getting comfortable on his log, “I’m curious. Why do you want him dead, when it seems he’s the only thing keeping you alive right now?”

Karen thought for a moment. “It’s complicated,” she finally replied, deciding to recycle Drew’s previous annoyingly vague answer.

“What will you do, once he’s dead?”

“I don’t know.” The subject struck a nerve in her that she could neither deny nor hide. She stared down at the blinding fire as her eyes welled up and her sight went crimson. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted anymore. All she knew was that she was angry and confused. “What does it matter to you?”

Drew shrugged. “I guess you’ve got a point, there. I didn’t mean to be so nosy.” He glanced over at Andy with a strange grin. “Change of subject. I think it’s high time for a campfire story, don’t you?”

The wolf cocked his head, as if pressing Drew for more information.

Drew turned to Karen, a slight smile creeping over his face. “Like campfire stories?”

Karen shrugged. “Depends on the story, I guess.”

“This is the story of a man and his son,” Drew began, “both called to work each night instead of sleeping, to help keep the world in balance, one soul at a time.”

“Dream-walkers, like you?” Karen asked.

Drew nodded. “But the son was far more gifted, and thus called to even higher work -- traveling to places and performing tasks that even the father couldn’t imagine.

“He had the ability to disguise himself in the Astral, to manipulate cerebral worlds, and to combat and subdue some of the most formidable foes,” Drew continued. “He slayed demons, retrieved lost souls, and bound parasites of all kinds. He was a true artist.”

“One night, he came across a particularly nasty and powerful demon. The creature had created and maintained a small cerebral world specifically to entrap a young, naive woman who was inexperienced in the Astral and had no business being there. The trap appeared to be paradise from afar, but upon crossing its mental event horizon, its true face showed through.”

“In reality, it was nothing more than a dark, hellish dungeon, but by the time the young woman understood the nature of the place, it was too late. The demon had her imprisoned in this inescapable netherworld. Her body was seemingly trapped in a baffling coma while her mind endured endless rape and torture. When the demon rested or left the world, as he sometimes did to tend to other business, he left her chained to his bed. On the chance that she might learn a spell to release her shackles, he had a pack of wolves guard the room and a slew of mental traps covering all possible ways out.”

“The son prepared for his battle with the demon by watching its every move disguised as one of the wolves inside the room. Andy revealed himself one night to the woman, unable to stand her agonized cries any longer. He confided that he had fallen in love with her, and that he would rescue her at all costs.”

“The demon appeared unexpectedly, having known all along about the infiltration, and he struck Andy with a powerful attack while his guard was down. When he came to, he found that the demon had hit him with a powerful curse. He was expelled from the Astral and was now only able to travel lower-level dreams. But, even worse, the demon transformed Andy’s physical body into that of the guard wolf he had posed as in his domain as punishment for his attempt to fool him.” “Now he is reduced to binding energy vampires and tracking petty dream bandits, until he can find a way to reach the creature that cursed him and reverse the hex,” Drew finished with a loud sigh.

“What a terrible story,” Karen said, wondering just how much truth lay in the man’s crazy words. He had specifically addressed the protagonist as “Andy” at the end.

“Until he finds a way to return to the Astral,” Drew continued, “he will continue to be a wolf. He will kill rabbits and coyotes, and devour their flesh raw. He will feel the call of the wild and howl back to the cries in the wind. He will never lose his humanity, yet he will be forever changed.”

Karen considered Drew’s words, feeling that he spoke as much to her as he did to Andy. She looked over at the wolf, considering his seemingly clear grasp of spoken language. Could he truly be a human mind trapped in an animal’s body? If so, how had instinct and sensation changed for him? Did he fight such changes, or did he revel in them, or perhaps did he experience a confusing mix of both, suffering the torment of being something that was clearly no longer fully human, and yet too human still to be anything else, just as she did?

“What happened to him was not natural, and yet somehow he must fit into the natural scheme of things,” Drew continued. “Not as something good or evil, but just as something that happens to be. Do you understand?” he asked.

Karen nodded, her throat tight and her words coming as a strained whisper, “I think I do.”

“So, then you understand that what happens to Billy tomorrow is nothing personal?”

“What is going to happen to him?”

“Does it really matter?” Drew asked, unwilling to give her anything more.

Karen took a deep breath. “I guess not.”

For some reason, suddenly it did matter. What Drew said spoke to her more profoundly than she wanted to admit. Was there really anything to gain in hating Billy? Did she really have any reason to do so, without faulting him for being what was simply in his nature to be?

He had stood by and went along while Mark and his family had left her family to die, she reminded herself. And he had left her to die with them. Just the same, with Mark in charge, had he really any choice in the matter? Had he really meant what he said to her, or was that just the blood-play talking? She thought about how much easier the next few days would be because of the boost he had given her. She thought about his incredible scent and how she felt when they were together. She thought once more about the child he had so quickly sworn to protect. Suddenly she felt a warm rush of regret flow through her as she had to ask herself, What the hell was she doing?

Chapter Eighteen

Karen lay alone in the back of the van with the windows covered to keep out the light. She fought the intense desire to sleep, struggled to keep her eyes open, and busied her mind with random thoughts in a last-ditch attempt to keep from drifting off into Billy’s cerebral world.

She had no idea what Drew had planned, but she did know that he could do nothing to Billy as long as she stayed awake. Had Drew approached Karen the night before, she would have assisted him in his trap without a second thought. Now, however, she had taken the time to reconsider her motives, as well as the repercussions of Billy’s death.

Karen found herself in the familiar void, and she knew at once that sleep had prevailed over her will to stay awake. The field and the old Victorian solidified in the distance and the perfect starry night slowly replaced the darkness. She desperately looked around and seeing no one, she called out into the field.

“Billy! We’re not–”

Drew came up behind Karen and pulled her to the ground, covering her mouth. He spoke quietly, but very clearly, into her ear, “I’m much stronger than you in this world. Make another sound, and I’ll snap your neck and leave you reduced to a wheelchair for the rest of your pathetic life.”

Karen held her breath, afraid to move.

“Am I clear?” Drew asked.

Karen nodded, horrified.

Drew uncovered her mouth -- his eyes telling her that she should not dare to make him regret his leniency. The two watched together as Billy appeared not too far off in the distance, near a young woman who suddenly appeared in the field. Karen’s heart began to race as she realized that the young woman looked exactly like her. An imposter?

Karen looked at Drew, silently begging him for an explanation, but he simply beckoned her to remain still and watch quietly.

“I was afraid I scared you off,” the imposter said, looking happy to see Billy. She moved up to him, staying just out of arm’s reach.

“Karen…you’re not mad anymore?”

“I’ve had some time to think,” she said, offering him a forgiving smile.

Billy looked around. “Listen, are you okay? I ran into a strange man yesterday as I was leaving our dream. He said he knew how to find you and that he would kill you if I didn’t meet up with him here in Southern California.”

Karen’s heart dropped, and she looked over at Drew, who shrugged indifferently. She wanted desperately to stand up and warn Billy of the trap, but she had no idea what the man was capable of here. Horrified, Karen watched as her double continued to play Billy with disturbing ease.

The woman gave Billy a confused look. “Someone threatened to kill me?” She laughed. “You must be joking!”

Billy continued to stay vigilant and looked around nervously. “Just be careful, okay? He could be here with us, even now, blocking his presence from me.”

“I’m always careful,” the woman replied. She playfully moved closer to him.

Billy found her change of heart suspicious, as welcome as it would have been, had it been genuine. When she moved close enough for him to catch her scent, however, he knew right away -- the woman edging closer to him, suggestively brushing his neck with her delicate fingertips, was not Karen. This mimic could copy Karen’s appearance and voice, but not her beautiful, entrancing scent. He quickly turned to face her and she looked surprised at his sudden move.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Billy smiled innocently, staring into her eyes. “I missed those eyes…”

The woman stared back, unsuspecting, smiling. “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” Billy said, and then in one quick move he had his arms around her and his teeth deep in her neck.

The imposter shrieked as Billy drank in its life and its memories. Suddenly, “she” transformed into a tall man with blue eyes and sandy brown hair. The man seemed confused for a moment, still stunned from Billy’s trance and then broke his arms free from Billy’s hold. Instead of struggling to get away, however, the man quickly wrapped his arms around Billy, pinning the vampire’s arms to his body.

Billy stopped drinking and let out a horrendous cry. He struggled to free himself from the man’s hold, but was helpless. He screamed and fought against some unknown terror while Karen watched, confused and horrified.

She tensed to move, but Drew held her fast and shot her a nasty glare.

“What’s he doing to him?” Karen asked.

“I thought you didn’t care,” Drew said, annoyed.

“I changed my mind!” Karen cried.

“It’s a little late now,” Drew chuckled.

Karen got a lucky break and lunged past Drew. She darted toward Billy and the man, whom she presumed to be Andy. She was at their side in an instant, but that was all it took for the man to finish his spell. Billy turned to her, and his eyes caught Karen’s one last time right before he faded, screaming and writhing, into nothingness.

Karen’s heart pounded and her mind raced. “What happened to him? Where did he go?” she asked.

“Karen, the real Andy,” Drew said, as if a formal introduction was necessary. He moved closer to Andy, as if getting ready to tell the young man a secret. “Think you could use her, too?”

“I got everything I needed from the beau, but I’m sure we can come up with some use for her,” Andy chuckled. He took a deep breath, flexing his arms and clenching his fists, looking energized, renewed, and excited.

Karen kept her distance from both men. “What did you do to Billy?” Karen demanded.

“He won’t be bothering you again any time soon,” Andy said, giving her a bright, gratified smile.

Karen swallowed hard, a knot forming in her throat. “But what did you do to him?”

“As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I have business that is long overdue,” Andy said.

“I’ll see you at camp,” Drew said.

“Wish me luck,” Andy said.

Drew gave Andy a single nod, and then both disappeared, darting off into the starry night.

Darkness filled their wake. The field, the sky, and the old Victorian house all faded to black.

Chapter Nineteen

Karen awoke as dusk finally came. She thought about Billy’s possible fate and immediately became overwhelmed with grief. Not knowing what Andy did ate at her, and the thought of Billy dying as a result of her actions, as indirect as they may have been, made her nauseous. So, that was what revenge felt like, she considered. It wasn’t at all what she had thought it would be.

Was she actually mourning her loss?

Karen peeked out one of the windows on the sliding side door. Drew and Andy rested under a thick tarp attached between the top of the van and a couple of tall stakes set firmly in the ground. Drew sat on a stump that he had moved from the fire pit. He was reading a paperback book by the last hints of light peeking over the evening horizon, while the wolf lay curled up near his feet, unconscious. A handgun sat on the stump by Drew’s side.

Drew jumped to his feet, grabbing the gun, as Karen exited the van.

Karen slammed the door shut, surprised to find that Andy didn’t even flinch at the loud, sudden noise. She stared at Drew, immediately recognizing the smell of fear emanating from his sweaty, dirty body. He pointed the gun at her. Karen knew she could probably survive a few close shots, given her quick recovery from the truck accident, but she didn’t want to find out just how painful a gunshot wound could be. She kept her distance, watching Drew for any signs that he might decide to shoot.

“What’s up with your guard dog?” Karen asked, clearly just as nervous as he.

“He’s out fighting for what’s left of his humanity,” Drew said, glancing down at Andy for a moment. He looked back up, his eyes flooded with fear. “He’s been out all day. I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”

“Maybe something went wrong?” Karen suggested.

“I think so,” Drew said, his face looking pale.

Karen felt a vindictive sense of satisfaction. She cleared her throat, determined this time to get the answers she needed.

“And where’s Billy?” she asked.

Drew shrugged. “He was camping in a motor home about ten miles south of us when we intercepted him this morning.”

Karen watched the shaking gun, wondering just how much it would take right now to provoke Drew past his breaking point. “So he’s still alive?”

“Yes.”

Her body went weak as the relief settled through her. She leaned against the van as she took a long, sobering breath.

“Please…just go,” Drew said.

Karen realized that, after misleading her and threatening her life in the dream, Drew was terrified that she might try to settle the score now. With Andy out of the picture, she could easily take him down and they both knew this.

Karen looked at the gun once more, reassessing the threat. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Where do you suggest I go?”

“I don’t care. I’m sorry I pulled you into this and I’m sorry about your boyfriend. Please, just–”

“I thought you said Billy was okay!”

“He’s fine.”

“So, what did you mean by that? What the hell did Andy do to him?” Karen found her entire body shaking at the sight of the gun pointing at her head, yet she considered rushing him, despite the possibility of getting shot.

Drew saw the seriousness in her eyes. “Andy bound him and stole his abilities,” he said, and then cleared his throat before he added, “Your friend is done commandeering other people’s dreams, but other than that, he’s fully intact.”

The notion hit Karen in a strange way -- she wasn’t really sure if the emotion she felt was happy or sad. All she had to do now was walk and Billy would be out of her life for good. Why was that suddenly not okay?

High on adrenaline, her mind suddenly spinning, she challenged Drew with her eyes. “Put the gun down now or, so help me, I’ll have you by the throat before you can pull the trigger!” she growled.

They stared one another down and Drew slowly lowered his gun.

Karen continued to fix her eyes on his. “No one’s going anywhere.”

“I don’t understand,” Drew said.

“You don’t have to.”

Karen kept her eyes fixed on Drew’s, knowing that she had achieved a good, solid trance. She identified the sensation of it this time, what it felt like to draw him in and hold him with her eyes. She felt confident that she could consciously will it again, now that it seemed to come to her more naturally. A strange giddiness came to her as she realized just how much control she had over the man and it was all she could do to keep from laughing.

Drew stared back, his jaw agape.

“Do you want to put the gun down?” Karen asked, feeling confident.

“I think I do.” Drew set the gun down onto the stump, but as he did so Karen unconsciously eased up on her hold just long enough for him to become cognizant of what he was doing. He paused, wondering if he had time to turn, aim, and shoot with any accuracy, and then immediately thought better of it. Best not to tip his hand until he was sure he had a clear shot. He sat down beside the gun, pretending to look tired, staring down at the ground as to avoid looking back up into her eyes.

Karen felt the hold break and she became nervous as Drew worked to fool her, keeping within quick reach of the gun. Understanding her mistake, she hoped Drew might glance back up and give her another chance to hone her technique, but he held his eyes to the ground. She watched him carefully, slowly backing to the rear of the van, knowing that she could not let him catch her off-guard.

In her mind’s eye, Karen saw Billy making his way up the foothills in a small motor home, searching for the handful of well-camouflaged landmarks that lead to camp. Karen knew Billy was almost there -- the connection between the two of them was still very strong. Now that they were both back within one another’s vicinity, they each could practically taste the other’s presence.

“Will you be leaving us so soon?” Drew asked, glancing up just long enough to notice Karen move to the back of the van.

Karen held her breath and then considered that Drew would have to look back up in order to aim. She continued to watch him, waiting to see if he might take that chance and offer her another opportunity to commandeer his will. “How quickly can you pull that trigger?” she dared, ready for him.

Andy suddenly stirred, and both Karen and Drew turned to look as he gave off a loud yelp. His eyes went wide as his legs contorted while his spine and face retracted and realigned to the appropriate specifications of his human form in an astonishing matter of seconds. His fur fell to the ground and a short length of thin human hair moved into its place, all across his body. Andy gasped, reorienting himself, while Karen and Drew watched, stunned, neither as concerned for the moment with the other, due to the rare and spectacular show.

Andy didn’t seem to care that he was naked -- some other horror was clearly fixed upon his face. He cried out and punched the ground.

“Andy?” Drew asked, rising to his feet.

“I tried to save her, but the demon cast another spell!” Andy cried. “I don’t know what happened. I think he bound their spirits together.” He shook his head, shaking, staying close to the ground. “They’re both dead.”

Andy looked over at Karen, his face heavy with remorse, and she glared back at him, unsure how to read his pained expression.

“Don’t look her in the eyes!” Drew yelled, as he quickly took aim and shot.

Time seemed slow for a few seconds as the deafening blast went off. Karen knew well enough to dive behind the back of the van for cover, but even her reflexes were too slow to dodge a bullet. Instead of hitting her in the center of the chest, however, the hot metal sliced through the lower region of her right shoulder and exited through her back, shattering her shoulder blade. She went down with a shrill cry.

Karen lay on her back in a shallow pool of blood, fighting to catch her breath. Her lungs seemed to protest the intense level of pain that shot through her. She writhed and moaned as the air finally found its way in. She felt her body begin to repair itself and the strain of it was enough to make her vision go faint. She lay helpless, her eyes straining to stay in focus as Drew stood over her and took aim right between her eyes.

“What are you doing?” Andy yelled.

“She’s too dangerous,” Drew said. “It’s for the best.”

“I’ve seen enough death today,” Andy said, too mentally spent to do anything but wait and watch. “Please, just let her go.”

“Close your eyes if you don’t want to see any more,” Drew said.

Karen cried out and Andy closed his eyes as tightly as he could, wishing he could do more, and then the shot rang out and echoed through the canyon as a large rock slammed into the back of Drew’s head.

Drew lay unconscious on the ground, his head bleeding lightly, and the blood-spattered rock lay nearby.

Karen and Andy both looked up, unexpectedly seeing Billy standing at the edge of camp.

Karen sat up, and then dizzily fell back -- the extent of her blood loss was suddenly very apparent. She could feel her shoulder, was still repairing itself. Her ears rang painfully and sent more waves of dizziness through her. She tried to comprehend what was going on, fighting to keep from blacking out, as Billy turned to Andy.

Andy simply stared back, knowing that he had taken something from Billy, and now Billy was going to take it back. There was no fighting him. What did he have left to fight for?

Billy slammed Andy onto his back and landed on top of him. Andy closed his eyes, accepting his fate, as Billy tore into his throat and engorged himself. He took in the story of Andy’s last several years, and as he did so, took Andy’s collection of stolen abilities. Billy drank as long as he could, taking in as much nourishment and knowledge as his stomach and mind could possibly hold before he dragged Andy’s limp body over to Karen’s side.

“Finish him off,” Billy said, “before he bleeds out.”

“He wanted to let me go,” Karen said, working to focus her eyes as her sight continued to fade and fuzz.

Billy tore open Andy’s wrist and put it in Karen’s face. “I’m not making a request.”

Karen took the weakly bleeding wrist without any further prompting and drank until there was nothing left to drink. Then she dropped Andy’s arm and allowed Billy to help her to her feet. She immediately broke down as they embraced. “I’m so sorry!” she cried.

Billy didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Chapter Twenty

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Billy said, anxious to put as much distance as possible between himself and the murder scene. He wanted to take Karen in his arms and make love to her right there, his body having longed for her since their first night together, but he knew this was neither the time nor the place. Painfully, he moved away from her and toward the motor home.

Karen didn’t need any further coaxing, hurrying to the front passenger seat without needing Billy to say another word. They left the bodies for the forest to consume. They both sat in an awkward silence for some time, the quiet drive somehow soothing and lulling the confusion and tension that remained between them.

They agreed to travel as far north as they could that night. After about an hour or so into their drive, the motor home moving a perfect sixty-five on the freeway, Karen finally began to acclimate to the strange sensations that came with being so close to Billy again. She would have known he was there even if all of her external senses failed her and he did nothing to make his presence known. She gave in every once in a while to the urge to savor small whiffs of his scent as they teased by her. She knew he was doing the same, and so she did her best to suppress the persistent and lingering sense of arousal that overwhelmed and distracted her, waxing and waning relentlessly, ever since their reunion.

Forcing her mind in another direction, Karen began to redirect her thoughts to the bits of trivia she had gained from Andy. For example, she now knew that Andy and Drew shared the same name -- Andrew Stephen Connor, Junior and Senior -- and that Andy’s mother had been killed after Drew crossed and challenged another dream-walker. He ended up being the first person Drew ever killed. Drew beat the man to a bloody pulp after catching him off guard in a rather pleasant dream set in the Caribbean, and as far as the rest of the world knew the murderous dream-walker simply died in his sleep…just like Andy’s mother.

Those things, unexplained and sudden, simply happened sometimes. “Did you know Andy’s mother was murdered?” Karen asked, deciding to compare notes.

Billy nodded. “Son of a bitch who killed her got what he deserved, though.”

Karen nodded with him. “Did you get the memory of the big earthquake he was in?”

Billy shook his head, “I do know that Drew spent twenty years straight as an alcoholic.”

“Yeah, I got that one, too,” Karen said with a nod. “I never would have guessed. The guy drank water the whole time we were out there.”

Billy nodded. “He used up his liver, and then ended up making a deal with a dream bandit for a new one.”

“Wow!” Karen searched her memory, appalled despite her inability to retrieve that specific piece of information. “Do you remember the time Andy ate peyote in the desert?” Karen asked.

Billy shook his head. “How about the time he won twenty-five grand on a state lottery scratcher?”

Karen thought, and then shook her head. “He really won that much?”

Billy nodded, and then asked, “Did you catch Andy’s memory of walking in on Drew with that hooker?”

“Sick bastard,” Karen said. “What a hypocrite.”

“Everyone’s a hypocrite,” Billy said.

The two suddenly considered the morbidity of their conversation, and once again, silence prevailed.

As dawn neared, after over eight hours on the road, Billy drove the motor home to a familiar campsite in Guerneville. The tall, ancient redwood forest spanned long and wide alongside the Russian River. The preserve was bordered on the other sides by quaint shops, bed and breakfast hotels, and riverside, communal camping grounds.

Inside the preserve, thin, winding roads took the motor home deep into the thick, green forest. From there, Billy took the motor home up a steep incline along the far edge of a mountainside, to the remote campground. By luck, there was an open spot that appeared to be paid through for the night, and Billy parked the vehicle and killed the engine with a tired sigh.

The two continued to sit for a moment, both of them suddenly feeling the culmination of their ignored and redirected tensions. They both knew that the other felt the same, yet each felt extremely hesitant to approach the other, for their own very different reasons.

Uncertain and afraid of rejection, should he make a direct pass at her, Billy turned to Karen with a shy smile. “Want a tour of the back?”

Karen smiled back, although her face remained reserved. She followed Billy into the back of the motor home, staying only a few steps behind him as he turned on a dim lamp and double-checked all of the window shades.

Billy pointed out the various amenities, hoping to lighten the mood, “Kitchen, living room, bathroom, bed-slash-dining room.”

The bed was small, barely big enough for two people, and it could be converted into more seating with a slide-out table. It had a soft down comforter and plush pillows piled on it, and after just one day on Drew’s hard van floor, it looked incredibly inviting, despite its compact size.

“What do you think?” Billy asked, his scent giving away the mix of anxiety and arousal that he struggled even harder now to hide from her. “Adequate for now?”

“It’s cozy,” Karen offered.

“We could travel the country,” Billy said, his eyes bright. “You name it, that’s where we’ll go next -- after I take care of one last commitment.”

“What’s that?” Karen asked, not really caring, but rather contemplating whether she might initiate some kind of physical contact between the two of them.

“My family found word of a commune just a couple of hours from your family’s property, a settlement in Southern County that has kept itself isolated, self-sustained, and completely stable for nearly a century. My father wants me to see if I can find it. Given the vague directions, that might be easier said than done.”

“Oh?”

Billy nodded. “My dad would have played emissary himself but he’s had bigger issues to deal with as of late. Plus, we needed to put some space between us, for a while. He’s still pretty mad at me.”

“I see.” Karen knew that they were both treading carefully, but watching him carry on like a schoolboy facing imminent rejection, hesitant even to initiate a kiss, was getting close to agonizing. She no longer acted hatefully toward him, but he couldn’t be completely certain where he stood with her, given the fact that she had felt sadistically compelled to behave just as coyly all night.

“This is driving me crazy,” Billy said, suddenly finding his backbone. “Tell me there’s still hope for us.” He moved just slightly closer to her, hoping that she might meet him halfway.

“I’m not sure of anything right now,” Karen said, although her body language told him otherwise, surprising them both. She did meet him, moving forward to close the two-step-gap that remained between them, allowing their lips to meet and their bodies to fall into one another.

Their scents began to mesh through the air as they stumbled their way across the back, caressing one another’s bodies and leaving a trail of clothing in their wake. She felt him with her hands – his strong arms, his tight abs, his firm, round ass – reminding herself that this was not just another dream. This was real. He was real.

They took in the familiar scents, their bodies suddenly on fire as they dropped to the bed. Karen rolled Billy onto his back and crawled on top of him. She continued to search his body with her hands and found him erect and hot as she spread her legs over him. Her entire body tingled and shook as she slowly sat down, sliding him inside her. A quick breath escaped her as she relaxed her body and allowed him to fill her entirely. He was right -- their bodies did fit perfectly. It was truly as though they each had been made specifically for the other. The thought sent a strange and unexpected wave of excitement through her, and her heart raced.

She moved to kiss his neck as she rocked her hips, exploring every angle as she took him in, slowly and passionately, filling her senses with his rich aroma and incredible taste, laying her chest across his and finding his hands with hers as they slowly, ardently pressed and massaged their bodies together.

“I love you,” Billy said, lost in her smell, her feel, evoking within him a sudden and overwhelming flood of emotion.

Karen felt her teeth grow, her mouth watering and her breath quavering. “I love you, too,” she whispered, her excitement growing as she teased his neck with the edge of one sharp, ready tooth.

“Then do it,” Billy breathed, his teeth growing as well.

With a relieved cry, Karen bit down, tasting his blood and understanding his intentions.

“Take in as much of me as you can,” Billy whispered, feeling the lobe of her ear with his lips.

Karen knew what was coming. Caught up in the moment, however, she felt no desire to stop. She continued to drink as Billy moved to her neck, reluctantly hesitating for a moment for any possible objection, and then struck down and began to drink from her as well. He put his arms around her and held their bodies close as they began to thrust wildly into one another, their minds slowly interlocking and their cognition melding into a state for which neither of them had been at all prepared. Both drank until their stomachs could hold no more, and then, their thoughts fully connected and their bodies united in their ecstasy, together, as one, they came.

Chapter Twenty-One

Karen and Billy both slept soundly that day, cuddled close together on the tiny bed. Their dreams were uneventful, their bodies and minds content, and the motor home stayed relatively cool all day under the shade of the redwood trees that towered all around.

They awoke around the same time, just as the last bits of direct sunlight slipped from the horizon and the sky became a canvas of fluorescent pinks and purples. They lay together for some time, reflecting upon what had happened, and the immediate effect it clearly had on them.

The bond between them could never be broken now, not until one of them died, and it had become so strong that each knew the other’s the thoughts at any given time. Their individual emotions passed back and forth between them, a psychic connection that was both beautiful and overwhelming. They were still individuals, and yet they were not. There could be no lies, no secrets between them, at least until they picked up the various mental tricks all vampire couples eventually accrued. For the time being, they kissed and cuddled, taking their time and exploring one another’s minds and bodies a little further, seeing one another with renewed eyes.

Karen found herself both delighted and horrified with the union, as unobtrusive as it already had become, acclimating to it well enough but still finding it a bit disturbing, nonetheless. She did not regret it. Much to the contrary, she was in utter awe.

When Billy got up to make a pot of fresh coffee, Karen quickly sat up. “We can have coffee!” she said, giddy.

“Sorry you didn’t already know that,” Billy said, happy to see her smile. He got the coffee brewing, and then hopped back onto the bed. “Feel like taking a hike tonight, before we leave?” he questioned aloud, although he very well could have asked her without speaking a word.

“I’d like that,” she said, grateful that Billy opted to keep their conversation out loud.

The coffee tasted phenomenal, even though Karen could not add sugar, the way she used to like to take it, to the hot combination of fresh Kona and cream. Who would have guessed they could stomach milk, of all products, but not sugar?

By the time Karen and Billy got to their hike it was already completely dark out. The stars were shining by the dozens and the crickets and frogs exchanged leading roles in some obscure, high-pitched fugue. The well-placed campsites surrounded a large, marshy pond, and a few thin trails went winding off in various directions beyond their perimeter. They passed a few other hikers, healthy humans with flashlights to keep from stumbling over rocks and roots.

The sky reminded Karen of the sky in Billy’s dream world, clear and glittering with stars. She moved close to him, grabbing his arm. “Tell me this isn’t another dream.”

Billy pulled his arm free and wrapped it around her. “Your dreams are your own from now on -- you deserve that much.”

They climbed a small hill and stopped at the overlook. A forest of trees lay in all directions and, from their high view, the endless hills appeared as a soft, gigantic rolling green and brown quilt, gathered over the length of the shadowy distance.

“I want to show you something,” Billy said, looking around to ensure that no one else was nearby.

Karen immediately knew what Billy had to show her and looked around in an excited blend of paranoia and anticipation, as well. Why she would be eager to see Billy’s new trick, when she was so reluctant to embrace the psychic anomalies that came with their union, Billy could only speculate. He understood her thoughts and her emotions intimately, yet some of her motivations were still very much an enigma to him.

“Show me!” Karen said with an excited chuckle.

Andy had acquired a number of abilities that, much like Karen, he simply hadn’t the capacity ever to use simply due to his skill level. Billy, however, was hardwired differently than both Karen and Andy, capable of more than either of them would ever have been able to do, no matter how hard they tried or how long they practiced. Among the abilities Andy had stolen from a rare Astral traveler was that which allowed him to manifest small visual illusions.

Karen and Billy both looked up for the show as he chose a simple, yet distant, trick. Meteors began to shoot across the sky, first one at a time and then several at once. The sight was spectacular. Karen and Billy wondered how many other people were able to see the display, so Billy decided to put the matter to a small test. An enormous illusionary firework silently exploded overhead, sending fantastic streams of gold and red flickering and spinning across the sky.

Karen and Billy both heard the awed sounds of a few relatively nearby campers. “Where did that come from?” someone asked, and soon a handful of people could be heard coming up the hill.

Karen and Billy hurried down the hill off-trail, laughing excitedly at the highly unusual, but extremely entertaining, new ability of his.

They finally got on the road toward Southern County around midnight, both of them still processing their new connection. Not much time went by before they were overwhelmed once more with the profoundness of it all, and they considered pulling off to the side of the road so they could bask in the wonders and pleasures of their union one more time before they began their search for the elusive vampire commune.

They ignored their impulses and focused on the task at hand, eager to put the search behind them. Billy lowered his sun visor and a sheet of paper with handwritten directions, along with a small road atlas of Southern County, dropped from it. He caught both before they could hit his lap and quickly handed them to Karen in hopes that she might make better sense of them than he had.

Karen studied the instructions.

1. Find Devil’s Pass Peak.

2. Turn right at the private road just past town population sign. You can’t miss it.

3. Turn off your headlights.

4. Drive straight until you find the dirt road (about five miles), and then turn left.

5. Follow the dirt road until you reach the fork. Take a right.

6. Wind down the side of the mountain. When the road ends, look for the river.

7. Follow the river north, until you hit the wall of trees, and then simply wait.

“The instructions look straightforward enough,” Karen said, but then she realized that Billy didn’t even know where to begin. She opened up the road atlas and began searching for Devil’s Pass Peak.

“Maybe you’ll find something I missed,” Billy said, frustrated that Devil’s Pass Peak didn’t appear to exist anywhere on his map. He had already searched for close to an hour and he had little confidence that any further searching on Karen’s part would yield any different results.

Karen looked over Southern County carefully, noticing that there were several small mountains running through the region. She looked at the 2-D depictions of their various gradations, looking at the individual peaks.

Karen already knew, but she had to confirm, “We haven’t passed the county road I’m looking at yet, have we?”

Looking at the map through his mind’s eye while continuing to watch the road and search for mile markers, Billy shook his head. “Not yet.” Glad that they were both becoming more comfortable with and less distracted by their mental bond, Billy took a deep, satisfied breath, and concentrated on the road.

Only one of the mountains had any real peak and there just happened to be a county road that led to a small access route between it and a neighboring stretch of mountains. The name of the access route was “Dante’s Pass,” and the nearby mountaintop was marked “Virgil’s Peak.”

Billy noted from the last mile marker that they were about two miles away from the county road that led to Dante’s Pass. “Should we give it a shot?”

Karen continued to look over the various roads and highways that ran through Southern County. “I really don’t see anything else that would work.”

“Dante’s Pass it is, then,” Billy said, checking his gas gauge and hoping that there was an open service station somewhere within the next fifteen or twenty miles.

The county road had no artificial lighting and appeared to have no other traffic on it besides them. When, after about ten minutes, Karen and Billy saw a hand-painted sign reading, “Population 172,” they knew they were on the right road.

“Turn off your headlights!” Karen snapped, looking down at the instruction sheet.

Billy turned off the headlights and steered the motor home onto a thin, private road. After roughly five miles, there was a dirt road up on the right. Billy slowed to make the sharp turn, and then kept the motor home moving slowly over the bumpy, rocky path.

The dirt road ended up cutting into the far side of the mountain, weaving down into a canyon. Karen and Billy began to feel apprehensive; the motor home was cumbersome and hugged the mountainside, as it maneuvered around the winding turns and unstable road. There were places where the road had eroded down to about ten feet across, with a long, sharp drop to their right. Karen looked down once, noticing the steep fall, and then turned away from her window in horror and redirected her attention to the last two parts of the instructions.

“When we get past all of this, there should be a river up ahead,” Karen said, not because she needed to, but simply for the sake of having something to say. The terrible road conditions had her uneasy and, despite Billy’s confidence in his driving, Karen was sure they were both going to die a dreadful, explosive death. Any moment, she thought, a piece of loose earth would crumble from beneath them, and they would topple a thousand feet to their broken, fiery demise.

The motor home wound down another turn, and within a few minutes, they were on a thicker road moving back through the foothill and able to move at a more reasonable speed. They hit the base of the mountain and continued straight, even after the road clearly ended and the poor motor home wobbled and rocked over the unstable terrain.

Billy spotted the river up ahead and turned north. Karen watched as the evergreen trees and wild brush grew dense around them. They both knew they were at the end of the road when they reached a thickness of trees that prevented any further motorized travel. Amongst the trees were a handful of other vehicles, all of them cold and empty.

Billy killed the engine. “I guess we just sit and wait?”

Karen peered out her window, looking for movement. The small river flowed on the right and all else appeared perfectly still.

Karen contorted to see for herself when Billy noticed a tall, pale man approaching through his side-view mirror. By the time she turned back, two people stood just outside her window.

And then, suddenly, there were a half dozen of them, about half of whom were armed with various melee weapons.

The man on Billy’s side moved to open his door, and then tapped on the window with a metal baton when he found it locked.

“You’re on private property,” the man said, recognizing, by both his physical features and his ability to block all attempts at a establishing a trance, that Billy was a vampire, as well. He looked over at Karen, his blue eyes looking uncertain.

“My name’s Billy.” He gestured to Karen. “And this is my wife, Karen. We’re here on behalf of the Xavier family,” Billy said.

The sound of the word – wife – sent a strange shock through the core of Karen’s body, although she knew that the statement was true. She blushed, nonetheless, giving the man a sheepish smile.

The man gave the rest of the onlookers a nod to back off, and then he slipped his baton into a belt buckle that served as a makeshift holster, offering Billy and Karen a gesture of trust and goodwill. “Please follow me.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The large commune, hidden in an enormous clearing in the middle of a dense forest, consisted of a dozen moderately-sized houses, which were surrounded by farmland banded with various crops and pens of sequestered livestock. A large community hall sat at its heart, beside a storehouse, a small market, and a water well. The river ran along one side of the clearing, and a towering watermill sat nearby, spinning its turbines with the steady rush of cool water. Lights of varying intensities emanated from some of the houses, and the community hall glowed dimly with the dance of scores of candles.

The community hall had a couple of large multi-use rooms, a handful of small classrooms and offices, and an enormous lounge at the entrance. Sconces covered every wall, pillars and tapers of homemade candles dimly lighting the beautifully furnished room. Murals covered the walls of the large, marble-floored room. There were four paintings in all, three of them depicted obvious scenes from the Christian Bible. The fourth painting, however, was very different. It showed vampires towering over cowering humans, and over the vampires was what Karen could only imagine was their depiction of God. Its face was bestial, and yet also very human. The irises of its eyes were so pale a blue that they were almost white. It stared across the room at all who entered.

Only a handful of men and women, both vampire and human, sat in the plush sofas and deep chairs, chatting away with one another and enjoying tall drinks. All wore pantsuits and dresses that had clearly been made in the commune, the cuts long and humble, and the colors neutral and earthy. It was not unlike attire that might be found in an Amish or Fundamentalist Mormon population. However, unlike those modest communities, all of the women wore tight corsets and heavy, high-heeled boots, which meshed strangely with their otherwise unassuming dresses, and all of the men sported long hair, bound in the back with thin ribbons and taut bows.

The escort led Karen and Billy to a woman sitting at an old, ugly desk that looked terribly out of place. The fair young woman stared down at a few memos and charts, looking bored. She looked up as they approached, and smiled as she noticed Billy. “New faces!” she said, excited.

Billy smiled back, flattered, then sensing her immediate jealousy, he cleared his throat and took Karen’s hand in his.

The escort stepped in front of them, and leaned up against the desk, taking a peek at the young woman’s paperwork. “Is John-Michael available?”

The young woman sat back, finding a nail file in her top desk drawer and beginning to rasp away at her long, thick nails. “John-Michael left the office early tonight. He and Vivian made plans with their donors.”

“Someone is going to have to bring him back in,” the escort said.

“Good luck. They went off into the forest. They could be anywhere,” the woman said, pretending that the status of her fingernails was suddenly more important than the escort’s job.

“Is there anyone in charge tonight?” the escort said, also clearly annoyed.

The woman nodded. “Jean-Michele is in her office, although I’m not sure how useful she will be. Better make it quick, if you do want to see her. She has a class to teach in about a half an hour.”

“Whatever,” the young man said, and then led Karen and Billy down a hall on the right.

Jean-Michele was an older woman, quite a bit older than her middle-aged appearance let on. She sat in a small office toward the end of the hall, reading Olaf Stapledon’s Last and First Men by candlelight and scribbling notes in the book’s margins. She looked up as Karen and Billy followed their escort into the room.

“I take it you’re handling guests tonight?” he asked, as he showed Karen and Billy to Jean-Michele’s desk.

“Of all nights for John-Michael to leave early,” she muttered. She looked up at Karen and Billy with a smile. “Sorry, but this isn’t in my usual job profile.” She set down her book, waved off the escort, and then stood and offered her hand to Billy. “I’m Jean-Michele.”

Billy extended his hand and the two shook. “I’m Billy. My father, Mark, sent me as a representative of the Xavier family. He recently spoke with one of your contacts.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Jean-Michele extended her hand to Karen.

“Karen,” she said as they, too, shook.

“Have a seat,” Jean-Michele said before sitting back down, herself.

Karen and Billy sat in two chairs opposite the desk from Jean-Michele.

Jean-Michele pulled a notepad from a desk drawer and began to write. “We have a few questions we usually like to start with, if that’s okay.”

Billy nodded.

“How many members are there in your family, at least that you are aware of?” Jean-Michele asked Billy.

“Seven here in California,” Billy said. “I have a few other relatives living here and there, but I honestly don’t know how many of them are still alive.”

Jean-Michele nodded as she continued to write. “How many have had children?”

“Just my mother and my father, but my mother died several years ago and my father has since remarried,” Billy said.

“And do you have any siblings?” Jean-Michele asked him.

“A younger brother.”

Jean-Michele finished writing down a long sentence, and then she placed her hands over the notebook as she leaned in to get a better look at Karen and Billy.

“Any chance you two can conceive?”

Karen sent a quick mental signal to Billy, suddenly not caring how new and alien the act felt. She needed to make sure that Billy knew just how uneasy the line of questioning suddenly made her feel, and right now, there was nowhere else to discuss it. Her instincts had told her not to trust Drew, and they had proven correct. Now her instincts told her she should not trust Jean-Michele.

Billy smiled. “We’re having fun trying.”

Karen elbowed Billy in the side, her face flushing. At the same time, she mentally thanked Billy for keeping her pregnancy a secret.

“For how long?” Jean-Michele asked.

Billy’s face went flat. “Huh?”

“How long have you been trying to conceive?” Jean-Michele clarified.

“That’s none of your business!” Karen exclaimed, her face going red.

Jean-Michele opened her mouth to say something, but refrained and went silent for a moment. “If you insist,” she finally replied, and then scribbled a few more notes. She looked over all that she had written, her face serious yet reflective.

“Why all the personal questions?” Karen asked, unable to refrain, despite Billy’s insistence that she do so. Billy cerebrally offered the excuse that communes typically looked to recruit new members with fresh DNA to add to their gene pools, especially from families that had proven successful in procreating. Karen still thought the questions were intrusive, especially since they were not, as far as she knew, prospective members.

“We have to be thorough,” Jean-Michele said. “Times have changed and this world becomes more uncertain with the passing of every year.” She dug through a few desk drawers, searching through files and stacks of papers, and then closed all of the drawers as she stood. “Wait here. I have some literature for you to read. There should be a few extra copies in John-Michael’s desk.”

Karen and Billy watched Jean-Michele leave, and then turned to one another.

“What the hell is this place, Salem’s Lot meets Stepford?” Karen muttered.

“Huh?”

“This place gives me the creeps,” Karen whispered, slightly louder.

Just stay quiet, Billy replied mentally.

A handful of youths, ages ranging from about five to fifteen, ran by the door. The youngest, a little girl with pale features and curly hair, stopped and looked in. Seeing strangers, she giggled and ran off to catch up with her schoolmates.

Karen cringed as she pictured the little girl with bloody fangs, attacking and killing a person. She wondered how much of a childhood a person could have if born into such a life. Billy picked up on Karen’s reaction, and knowledge of the important details of a born vampire’s early years immediately became clear. They breast-fed for about a year, until the first set of canines came in. They continued to drink their mother’s milk, in combination with her blood, until at around age two, at which time they graduated to straight blood and moved from the mother’s breasts to her wrists.

Karen found it all terribly grotesque, and she wondered if her baby would also start drinking blood so early in life. Billy wondered why it was so important to her that she give birth to a human, when both of them were vampires. Despite the meeting of their minds, neither was able to understand the full rationale to one another’s thoughts on the matter. Their differences were cultural, and they both knew that.

Jean-Michele returned with a file folder, a short stack of computer-printed brochures, and more paperwork. She tore out the handwritten page from her notebook, put it in the folder, and then set the mass of papers onto her desk.

Jean-Michele took a moment to get herself organized, and then handed Billy the brochures and paperwork. “You can take a look at these and fill out the forms at your leisure.”

Karen peeked at the forms, wondering if she and Billy were checking out a commune or a corporation.

Jean-Michele looked through a chart, filled with names and other stats, and made a note both on the chart and in Billy and Karen’s file. “You’ll have to see John-Michael for your job assignments and the rest of the details, but I can set you up with temporary housing and blood donors,” Jean-Michele said.

“We won’t be staying long,” Karen said, already wanting to leave.

“A few days, tops,” Billy added, reassuring Karen that this place would be behind them soon enough.

“I see. Well, I’ll show you to your room. You can meet with John-Michael tomorrow.” She ushered Karen and Billy out of her office and beckoned them to follow her out of the community hall and down a path leading to a nearby house.

A dim light flickered on, showing through the blinds of the front window, only moments after Jean-Michele knocked on the front door.

A skinny human woman with dark brown hair answered the door, looking surprised at the appearance of newcomers. Dark circles ran below both of her eyes, and she looked weathered and aged. “Jean-Michele! What can I do for you?”

“Nancy, this is Billy and Karen Xavier. Please provide them with a clean room and a rested donor,” Jean-Michele said.

The woman nodded. “It would be our pleasure, my Lady.”

Karen and Billy exchanged glances.

A man came up from behind the woman and stood at her side. He, too, was skinny and worn. He extended the door open further. “Our home is always open to any kin of our providers.”

“We appreciate your hospitality,” Jean-Michele said to the gaunt couple. She turned to Billy. “Take some time to read and look at the schedule, even if you are only going to be here for a few days. You might be pleasantly surprised.” She pointed out an activities schedule to him. “We have a double feature twice every Saturday in the multi-use room. I’m pretty sure Shrek and Shadow of the Vampire are playing tonight.”

Jean-Michele noted Sunday’s schedule. “Church service is at nine p.m. Sunday night. I think you and your wife might find it interesting, if you’d like to check it out.”

Billy smiled courteously. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be there.”

Karen smiled along, suddenly feeling as though trapped in the center of a strange, surreal cult.

“Have a nice evening,” Jean-Michele said with a smile.

Karen and Billy continued with the pleasantries, and then the couple coaxed them in and closed the door as Jean-Michele hurried off to prepare for her class.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Charles and Nancy seemed like a nice couple, although they also seemed a little strange. Karen thought they seemed too accommodating, given Nancy’s quick rush to check their spare guest room and bath for clean linen and Charles’s insistence that their guests temporarily consider themselves the heads of the household, along with the other three vampires who also lived there. It was obvious that a class distinction existed between the vampires and the humans. Karen wondered why the humans behaved with such complacency, and then she realized that many of them probably never knew any other way to live.

“Sit down and make yourselves comfortable,” Charles said, as he led Karen and Billy into the living room.

Karen and Billy sat down beside one another in a cozy love seat.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Blood? Coffee?” Charles asked.

Karen and Billy both politely shook their heads. “We’re fine for now,” Billy said, speaking for the two of them.

Nancy moved beside the sofa, but remained on her feet. “I don’t see any luggage.”

“I left my clothes in the motor home,” Billy said.

“We have a motor home,” Karen said, hoping the excuse was good enough. “We really could sleep there, just to take the burden off you two.”

“Nonsense!” Charles said with a chuckle. “You’re family here!”

Karen felt her chest go tight. The utter foreignness of all she had witnessed so far made her feel uneasy and paranoid. The overbearingly friendly generally had some ulterior motive generating their altruism, Karen knew from past experience, and she didn’t expect that the people here would prove any different.

Billy thought Karen was being silly, insisting that the commune possessed a sense of hospitality that larger communities lacked. The society was closed off from the rest of the world, except for a small amount of importing and exporting done for various goods, and it was relatively small, even as far as closed societies went. It seemed that everyone did their part, and no one went without. There was no need for a place like this to have ulterior motives because there was nothing that these people needed.

Except new bloodlines, Karen silently reminded him.

With a subtle nod, Billy turned to Charles. “So, how often do you see new faces around here?” he asked.

Charles shrugged. “Maybe once or twice a year. They’re usually humans, though.”

“Oh?” Billy’s eyes told Charles to elaborate.

“They send scouts when they start getting low on donors,” Charles said.

“I don’t understand,” Karen jumped in. “What exactly is a donor?”

“Blood donors,” Nancy said, pulling the sleeves of her shirt up and exposing her mangled wrists.

Karen and Billy exchanged glances once more, unsure how what they were seeing was possible. Nancy had clearly been fed from countless times, given the degree of scarring, yet she was human.

“How are you still human?” Karen and Billy asked in unison.

Charles and Nancy giggled, amused at the twin-like behaviors often seen in married vampires. It never got old. Much to the contrary, it was most endearing.

“The Turn is caused by some kind of super retro-virus that humans can, over a relatively short period of time, become immune to if inoculated with small doses at well-timed intervals,” Charles replied.

Karen and Billy listened on, fascinated.

“We keep them fed and happy, and they provide us with as much food and land as we need,” Nancy added. “A scout found me about fifteen years ago, starving on the streets of San Francisco. I’m glad to live here, where it’s peaceful and there’s no crime. Being a donor isn’t so bad, once you get used to it.”

“I was born here,” Charles said proudly. “I’ve heard enough about the outside world to know that I want no part of it.”

A teenage girl resembling Nancy stormed into the room, dressed in flannel pajamas. “Could you keep it down!? I have early set-up duty at Sunday school tomorrow morning, and I–” She went silent as she identified that her parents’ unexpected guests were vampires. She looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”

“Dana, this is Karen and Billy. They’re going to be staying with us for a while,” Charles said.

“Nice to meet you,” Dana said. Unlike her parents she had color to her cheeks and sported a healthy weight. However, she also looked exhausted.

“Back to bed,” Charles said. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

“Thanks.” Dana left the room without looking at Karen or Billy again.

“She’s a good girl. She’s just a little shy,” Nancy said.

Charles nodded in agreement.

“She’s just recently finished her last series of inoculations,” Nancy continued. “Your timing couldn’t have been better. Charles and I would have been hard pressed to keep five vampires fed and happy.”

Charles and Nancy gave exaggerated motions of relief, and then chuckled as if the subject were one they might discuss casually over dinner.

Karen and Billy smiled politely, both of them suddenly feeling uneasy about the conversation.

Nancy did her best to hide a yawn, scratching her face to make the move look as inconspicuous as possible, terrified that she might be so sloppy as to offend her new housemates on their first night there.

“You should be sleeping,” Karen said. She took another look at the dark circles under her eyes, wondering just how much of a toll the humans’ role really played upon their bodies. “Go back to bed and get your rest.”

“We can manage just fine,” Billy added.

Nancy looked relieved. “Is there anything I can get for you first? I could draw a bath for you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Karen and Billy replied together.

Charles and Nancy chuckled again, as Charles stood and moved to Nancy’s side.

“Goodnight,” Karen said, relishing in using the human term.

“Goodnight,” they replied together, and then giggled again at their unplanned vampire couple emulation.

Karen and Billy watched them disappear down the hall and into their bedroom, neither of them able to shake the mental image of the gaunt, anemic couple.

They remained silent for some time, cogitating together their reactions to all they had witnessed so far. Karen wanted reassurances that the two of them were safe there and that their stay would be as short as possible. Billy did his best, but he could not hide from her the fact that he felt somewhat taken aback by the situation, as well.

The two nights of driving had Karen and Billy tired and burnt out. They decided to forgo any exploration of the commune or attendance of events that evening. They considered retiring to their bedroom for a short while, so they might pass some of the evening losing themselves in blissful union in one another’s embrace, but before they could get up from their seat one of their roommates was already at the front door.

“You must be Karen and Billy,” the lanky, redheaded man said. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you,” Billy said.

Steve sat down on the adjacent sofa as Karen and Billy returned to their seats. “So, what brought you two here?”

“My father sent us on behalf of our family. He said we might be able to help each other somehow,” Billy said.

“Have you met John-Michael yet?” Steve asked.

“No,” Karen and Billy replied together.

Steve smiled, his face sincere. “John-Michael is a saint. When you finally meet him, you’ll understand.”

“Jean-Michele said we would meet him tomorrow,” Billy said. He considered their unusual names, and then asked, “Are they siblings?”

“Fraternal twins,” Steve said. “Just like in the prophecy.”

“Prophecy?” Karen and Billy asked in unison.

“In the Lost Scripture,” Steve said matter-of-factly, and then realized that Karen and Billy likely had never heard the prophecy. “John-Michael’s father found it before he died, about forty years ago. He was able to decipher the ancient text, and he translated it and produced mass prints of it in book form, so everyone could read its words.”

Karen and Billy worded unsuccessfully to hide their uncertainty.

“You don’t believe me. I understand. I was once an outsider, too,” Steve said. “I joined a little over nine years ago. I was nothing but a junkie when John-Michael’s scouts found me. I had no purpose in life -- just a lump of wasted flesh. I was a blood donor for a little over five years, but the inoculations failed on me and I began to turn.”

“So the inoculations are not one hundred percent?” Karen asked.

“It works for most people,” Steve said with a shrug. “Joseph, two doors down, has been in the process of turning for almost a month now.”

“In the process?” Billy asked.

“The inoculations prolong the process, when it does happen. The change was grueling, but it’s in the past now and I have no regrets.”

Karen and Billy both nodded, unsure how to respond.

“This place literally saved my life, so how can I really resent anything that has happened here?” Steve asked, appearing to pose the question more to himself than to Karen and Billy. He smiled again, but this time they could tell that he was putting on a show. “Sometimes I miss the sun. Stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Karen said. “I miss it, too.” Karen thought about her past summers at the beach, feeling the warm sand between her toes and the cool ocean breeze against the hot summer air. She thought about all of the amazing sunrises she would miss in years to come, and all of the colors that just weren’t the same anymore.

Billy tried to understand, but her thoughts and memories of it all were simply too foreign for him to grasp completely. He found the bright, colorful memories to be fascinating, and he envied Karen for having experienced such sights firsthand.

“And I miss hamburgers and French fries,” Karen continued. “And chocolate.” Karen imagined the sinful sweet in her mind’s eye, allowing Billy to appreciate it as much as he could from his vicarious perspective. Again, he couldn’t fully appreciate the memory and, as jealous as he was of the experience, he couldn’t help but feel fortunate that he had no clear idea of what he missed in not being able to experience such delights.

“Chocolate was good,” Steve said, remembering, himself. “No use in dwelling on such things, though. Life is good. I have no regrets. No regrets.”

Karen and Billy couldn’t help but notice Steve’s strange, repetitive mantra, but neither said anything.

“Hey!” Steve said, suddenly looking excited. “How about the grand tour? I can take you to meet Samantha and Peter.”

Karen and Billy were both horribly tired, but they were glad to get out of the house and away from the uncomfortable one-on-one conversation with Steve. They followed him down a dirt path that forked shortly down the way. Straight ahead, a short way up, was the community hall, while veering slightly to the right, along the cusp of fields of corn, tomatoes, peppers, and berries, the path led to the storehouse.

As they passed the cornfield, Karen couldn’t help but feel as though she had stepped into yet another Stephen King classic, the sound of the cold breeze moving through the growth sending a cold, quick chill through her. She looked around, realizing that neither she nor Billy remembered which direction the motor home was parked and the mountain and forest surrounding them seemed endless. She reminded herself that she needed to remain calm, but her heart continued to pound wildly against her chest.

Billy finally broke the silence, hoping to ease Karen’s nerves a little. “Where are we going?” he asked Steve.

“Samantha and Peter work together at the storehouse,” Steve replied. “You’ll like them. Oh…” Steve froze, and Karen and Billy almost trampled over him, not expecting the sudden halt.

“What?” Karen gasped, ready for an ambush.

“It’s about Peter. He’s…a little special. Try to act normal around him,” Steve said. He looked around, as if to ensure that no one else was in the vicinity. “He’s a good guy, but he’s not all there, if you know what I mean.”

Karen and Billy both nodded, although they could only guess as to what Steve might be referring.

“He has this imaginary friend,” Steve continued, “and he has a rare ability to make her look like she’s really there.”

Karen and Billy both felt a startling shock run through them as Steve spoke of the “rare ability.”

“How do you know she’s not really there?” Billy asked.

“Because she disappears whenever he falls asleep,” Steve chuckled, continuing to lead the two, “and he makes other images when he dreams. Let me tell you, that guy has some weird dreams, sometimes!”

Karen and Billy exchanged glances as Steve ran ahead and opened the main door to the storehouse. He held it open for Karen and Billy, and then entered behind them and allowed the door to fall shut.

The main door led to a small office, where Samantha sat at a desk, sorting through inventory files. She was an Amazon of a woman, easily close to six feet tall, and she had long, dark hair that fell down to her waist. She turned to the three with an excited smile, already knowing the nature of the visit.

Samantha got up from her desk and hurried over to them. She gave Steve a peck on the lips, and then gave Billy a seductive eye. “So, we have new roommates?”

Karen grabbed Billy’s hand, liking the quick and powerful visual queue. “We don’t plan on staying long.”

“That’s too bad,” Samantha said, disappointed.

“Is Peter around?” Steve asked.

“He’s swamped,” Samantha said. “I’m sure his fairy can take a break, though, if you’d like to talk to her.” She held her face straight for a moment before she and Steve both burst into laughter. “He could probably spare a minute.”

Samantha flipped an intercom button and spoke into a microphone. “Peter and Little Bell, please report to the front office for mental health assessment.” She flipped off the switch, and again she and Steve roared with laughter.

A few moments later Peter, a short, slight young man with pale features, entered the office through the back door. Karen marveled at the sight as, sure enough, what appeared to be a five-inch-tall fairy fluttered in at his shoulder. She had pale features, as well, with large, blue eyes and long, flowing hair. Her tiny, sheer dress danced as her clear, pearlescent wings flittered at incomprehensible speeds. Karen and Billy both understood the mechanism with which Peter created the illusion, and they found it fascinating that the “fairy” appeared to take on a life of its own, its fine movements seemingly random in nature.

Peter came in with a smug look on his face, but he immediately realized that the intercom message had been a joke when he saw Steve and two strangers standing in the office. Interestingly, the fairy’s emotions appeared to mirror Peter’s -- her expressions and the color of the glowing aura surrounding her changing dramatically with his mood.

“Got a minute?” Steve asked him.

“Maybe one,” Peter said. “We’ve got another mouse infestation in the bulk grains, and Little Bell is the only one small enough to reach their nests.”

“Sounds like important work,” Steve said.

Peter and the fairy both nodded. He turned to address Karen and Billy. “I take it you’re the new housemates. Nice to meet you! I’m Peter.” He pointed to the fairy. “And this is my lifelong friend, Little Bell. We’re kind of famous. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”

Karen and Billy both understood that the young man believed he was Peter Pan, the storybook character, and that his little friend was the legendary pixie, “Tinker Bell.” Considering that there was likely a reason the community went along with the delusion, they decided to play along, as well.

“I’m honored,” Karen said. “I’ve never seen a real fairy before…or is she a pixie?”

“Tomato…tomaaato,” Peter said as Little Bell nodded along.

Karen looked back over at Little Bell, unable to stop watching the lovely sight, and she jumped with a start as Little Bell appeared to look right back at her, straight into her eyes, while Peter continued to converse with Billy. Karen had to wonder if Peter was aware of its every action, or if he might actually be responsible for the creation of an independently thinking, intelligent being? Was it thinking? she marveled, Even if using the most primitive of thoughts?

With a smile, Little Bell gave Karen an unexpected wink, and then Peter said his farewells to everyone in the room before the duo returned to work.

“So, will we see you at church tomorrow evening?” Samantha asked, eyeing Billy.

“Maybe,” Karen answered for them both.

“I hope you go,” Samantha said with a smile. “It’s not like any church you’ve ever been to, I can guarantee it.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

There was a knock at the front door the following night, not long after dusk. The same escort from the night before had come to invite Karen and Billy to John-Michael’s house for a cup of coffee before church. The two quickly followed the escort across the stone paths, to the other side of the commune.

John-Michael and his wife, Vivian, sat beside one another on the front porch, awaiting Karen and Billy’s arrival. John-Michael had short, colorless hair, an unenviable face, and beady blue eyes. Vivian also had naturally pale hair and eyes, with long hair, fine features, and a thin, shrewd smile. She appeared to be about half his age. Her conservative, hand-sewn attire hardly seemed to suit her, just as she hardly seemed to fit beside John-Michael. Vivian was a goddess and John-Michael was a troll. Neither seemed to notice.

The escort led Karen and Billy all the way to the porch, then disappeared back down the path as soon as John-Michael and Vivian acknowledged their guests. Four cups of hot coffee sat on a small glass table between two sets of wicker chairs.

John-Michael and Vivian stood as Karen and Billy walked onto the porch and offered their hands in greeting. They both had firm, enthusiastic handshakes, and they seemed almost too excited to see their guests. The four sat as John-Michael and Vivian immediately picked up their coffee cups.

“Coffee?” Vivian asked, pointing to the two other cups.

“Thank you,” Billy said as he and Karen politely lifted their cups. They both smelled a strangely familiar, yet somehow hard to place, scent masked in the coffee as they moved the steaming cups up to their lips.

Karen hesitated, but Billy went so far as to take a taste. They paused for a moment as Billy recognized the additional ingredient as soon as it hit his tongue. Blood. They added blood to their coffee? A regional preference, perhaps? Billy didn’t think too much about it, finding it added a fullness similar to that achieved by adding milk or cream, but Karen found it disturbing.

Billy reminded Karen with a quick mental note that there was nothing strange about blood to these people. A food product was a food product; milk and blood differed only in that one came from a teat and the other a vein. Upon further consideration, Billy concluded that the idea was rather novel -- the boost of caffeine combined with a small snack -- and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of the idea before.

Karen set down her cup, unwilling to try the combination. She didn’t care if John-Michael and Vivian thought she was rude, nor did she care that even an extra ounce or two of blood would be an ounce or two less she would need later. Whose blood was it? Some poor donor’s, perhaps, his wrist slashed and held over their cups, his value to these people no more than the value a human might place on a disposable milk carton?

Vivian set down her cup, as well, playing the gracious host. A smile spread across her pretty face as she did her best to address Billy and Karen together, although her eyes found and fixed upon Billy’s far too many times for Karen’s comfort.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’m so sorry I was unavailable last night,” John-Michael said between sips of coffee.

“Jean-Michele tells us that you two only plan on staying for a couple of days,” Vivian added, her smile fading to a trite look of disappointment.

Karen and Billy thought about the comment for a moment and, to Karen’s surprise, Billy began to reconsider his desire to leave as soon as planned. This place had its own history, its own culture, and in a strange, remote way it was the only real heritage he could claim. His people belonged to an underground society back in the “real world” and forced to hide who they were and remained scattered to avoid detection. Although no one in the Xavier bloodline had ever called this safe haven home, he knew deep down that these were still his people. They had a society to call their own, a place where they could build a real life -- they could safely raise their child here, if only they were willing to give the place a chance.

“Our plans aren’t set in stone,” Billy said, smiling back at Vivian. “This coffee is really good, by the way.” He finished his cup, and then switched it with Karen’s. “You aren’t going to drink this?” he asked her aloud, although he already knew the answer.

“Take it,” Karen said, feeling her face flush. She mentally asked Billy why he suddenly had such a change of heart, and he simply responded by telling her he knew what he was doing and she needed to trust him. She glanced over at Vivian and John-Michael, and the hair suddenly rose on the back of her neck as she noticed a startling look of contempt in both of their faces.

“You really should try just a sip,” Billy said. “It’s very good.” He held the cup up, offering her a taste, but she pushed it away, intentionally knocking it out of his hand.

The cup fell to the wooden floorboards, shattering and sending the hot liquid splattering in all directions.

“I’m so sorry!” Karen got to her feet, doing her best to act surprised. She suspected, by Billy’s sudden odd behavior, that their cups had been laced with something. What she didn’t know was that they had been spiked with John-Michael’s blood and that John-Michael had the uncanny ability to read and influence the minds of those who had even trace amounts of his blood running through their veins, manipulating vampires just as easily as a seasoned vampire might manipulate a human. Moreover, because Billy knew Karen’s thoughts, John-Michael also knew her thoughts, and because John-Michael knew them, so did his wife Vivian. The couple was delighted to discover that, contrary to what they had been told by the very incompetent Jean-Michele, Karen was indeed pregnant, and Billy was the father.

Both John-Michael and Vivian were eloquent in keeping such knowledge to themselves, not letting on even in a subtle hint of body language that they could detect their guests’ every thought. Karen had no idea that, as she pretended to fret over the broken pieces of glass lying amongst wasted blood and coffee, John-Michael was planting suggestions into Billy’s mind that he and Karen should stay long enough to get a good taste of the community. Billy mentally relayed the suggestion to Karen as if the idea was his own, and she shot it down without giving it another moment’s thought.

John-Michael was not concerned, although Karen’s resistance annoyed Vivian.

“I do hope we’ll see you at church tonight,” John-Michael said, specifically addressing Billy.

“We’ll be there,” Billy replied enthusiastically.

Karen held her tongue, although she wanted to tell John-Michael to take his stupid vampire church and shove it. She didn’t want to do or say anything rash, however, and so she saved her words for another time. Realizing that it was also neither the time nor the place to start a mental debate with Billy, she decided to drop the matter and simply remain vigilant for the both of them.

“You’ve never been to a sermon until you’ve seen John-Michael preach,” Vivian said, patting her husband’s knee with vicarious pride. She gave Karen a strange, unreadable glare as she added, “I’m quite sure you’ll agree. Most people do, anyway.”

Karen nodded politely, not quite sure what to make of Vivian’s sentiment.

“I’m sure they will be able to evaluate my sermon just fine for themselves,” John-Michael said. “We’ll do the special service tonight, just for them,” he added, giving Karen a quick wink.

Karen felt her heart skip a beat, and she did her best to hide the fact that John-Michael was making her spine crawl more now than before. Was it the way he looked at her or was it those beady eyes of his that made him appear so shady? Unable to look at his menacing face any longer, Karen turned away.

“I’m excited!” Billy said, and again his mind clashed with Karen’s as he suddenly insisted she was being closed-minded and uptight.

John-Michael and Vivian stood up in perfect unison.

“Walk with us to the community hall,” John-Michael said, prompting Karen and Billy to join him and Vivian on the path. “Tonight you’ll be our honored guests.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Karen walked reluctantly, staying close to Billy’s side. They followed right behind John-Michael and Vivian, noticing that the community hall was lit brighter than it had been the night before. As they neared the building, they saw that candles were still a primary source of the light. They shielded their eyes as they entered, however, as for some reason the large, main hall now had powerful overhead electric lights shining down into the room, as well. There seemed to be no one else there.

Karen froze at the entrance, unsure about entering an area she couldn’t clearly see, especially given the silent and empty nature of the large room.

“As you walk through the light, you walk past the darkness that has enshrouded our people throughout the centuries,” John-Michael said. “The congregation is waiting for us in the first multi-use room to our left.”

I don’t trust these people, Karen mentally told Billy.

Trust me, Billy replied back. He extended his hand to Karen and she quickly found it.

Feeling cautious, Karen moved with Billy through the blinding room. Slowly, they followed the sounds of John-Michael’s and Vivian’s footsteps against the marble floor, following them as best as they could.

“Almost there,” they heard John-Michael’s voice echo through the room as they neared a closed door.

John-Michael and Vivian waited for Karen and Billy to catch up. They stood beside the door, near a Plexiglas™; case that stood atop a tall, wooden podium. Inside the case, obscured by the light and the reflective glare, a long, tattered piece of parchment was displayed.

“The Lost Scripture,” John-Michael said.

“I can’t see it,” Karen said, trying to look despite the light.

“Because it’s not for your eyes,” Vivian said, a protective snap to her voice. “I can get a copy of the translation for you.”

Karen continued to try to get a good look at the scroll as John-Michael and Vivian ushered her and Billy into the surprisingly small room.

The room was comfortably dim, with candles sending long shadows in every direction. A small group of children sat amongst about three dozen adult vampires. The adults throughout the room ranged from their early twenties to their middle-to-late sixties. Peter and Jean-Michele sat with the children and the middle-aged, which took up the back few rows, while the rest of the adults sat closer to the front.

An organist was playing soft music for the room silently listening, waiting for John-Michael to begin the week’s ritual. Vivian led Karen and Billy to an open bench in the front and center of the room. The bench, like all the others in the room, was plush and soft. Karen noticed that all eyes were on her and Billy as John-Michael and Vivian disappeared into a side room.

The music continued, as well as the group’s silence and Karen couldn’t help but feel as though she might crawl out of her skin. She couldn’t see any possible way that this “church” could have anything to do with God, and felt blasphemous just by being there. She desperately wanted to leave. Billy silently begged her not to make a scene.

John-Michael and Vivian emerged from the side room a few minutes later. John-Michael walked up to a small podium, while Vivian stood at his side with what appeared to be a communion tray.

John-Michael began his sermon, spouting off Bible quotes and strange, convoluted interpretations for them. Karen felt that the speech was nothing more than the rambling of a madman, while Billy found John-Michael’s words brilliant. They each contemplated their stances, hoping the other might suddenly understand, but the mental debate was futile. Karen wanted even more to get up and walk out on the debacle, but she remained for Billy’s sake. He promised her that they would leave soon. Reluctantly, Karen agreed.

“And Jesus said, ‘Drink my blood and know life,’” John-Michael said.

The front row, along with Karen and Billy, stood and lined up for communion. Karen watched, moving with the short line, wondering if she trusted these people enough to accept even a swallow of whatever it was they used for communion. How predictable, she thought as she and Billy got up to the front. Of course, they were twisted enough to use actual blood for their “Holy Communion.” Karen declined to partake.

To her horror and dismay, Billy picked up a cup for each of them and set one in her hand. “Don’t get clumsy again,” he warned, his demeanor uncharacteristically hard and his words strangely unexpected. He swallowed his tiny shot of blood, and then watched Karen, waiting for her to do the same.

Suddenly, all eyes were on her.

Karen froze for a moment, dismayed. Whoever had come up with this, be it John-Michael or his deceased father, was not a holy man.

“It’s just blood,” Billy said, getting impatient with the rest of the room.

“She’s a recent Turn,” a pale blonde in the middle of the room said to her irritated mate.

“She doesn’t know any better,” Peter said sympathetically, with Little Bell nodding in agreement.

“For those of you who have not yet met,” Vivian quickly spoke up, “let me introduce Billy and Karen, ambassadors of the Xavier family.”

Billy stared Karen down, clearly embarrassed. Just drink it, he pleaded.

Buckling under the pressure, Karen emptied the small serving into her mouth and swallowed it.

The room applauded, causing Karen to blush.

“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Vivian asked Karen with a smirk.

Strangely, Karen did not have a response for the smug woman.

The front row returned to their seats, Karen and Billy again sitting front and center, as the rest of the rows lined up for their share of the ritual blood drinking. As Billy took Karen’s hand, she felt herself calm down, and realized that she had been upset over nothing.

It took several minutes for the rest of the members to finish and return to their seats, but when the last of them filed back, the room went strangely silent. Everyone stared at John-Michael, awaiting his next words. Even Karen found herself feeling curious, anxiously waiting to see him continue.

“On this, the seventh night, when our Heavenly Father rested, we thank Him for His three blessings,” John-Michael said.

The entire room, except Karen and Billy, finished the short, memorized passage’ “We thank Him for blessing us with shelter, we thank Him for blessing us with food, and we thank Him for blessing us with fertility.”

“Not everyone is fortunate enough to have all three blessings…” John-Michael said.

“…but we will turn away no one but the irreparably corrupt and the faint of heart, because God will always provide for those who are worthy,” the congregation finished.

Karen found herself strangely complacent as she worked to see the good in the group. Perhaps, as unusual as their way of life was, they meant well. Perhaps she had been jaded; maybe she really did need to give these people a fair chance. At least while she and Billy were there, they would not have to worry about hunting people down and killing them in order to survive. Suddenly looking at the alternative, Karen wondered why she had been so resistant to staying. If their child did end up being born a vampire, this would be the ideal place for her and Billy to raise it.

John-Michael smiled at Karen. Surprised yet feeling more at ease, she smiled back.

The middle-aged and the juveniles suddenly got up from their seats, with Jean-Michele, Peter, and Little Bell with them. They lined up at the door, shuffled out, and disappeared into the light. Karen looked over at Billy, wondering what was happening.

The door shut and the room went dim and quiet. All eyes shifted back to John-Michael.

John-Michael stared at Karen as he spoke, “We prayed for fertility, and to us fertility came. New hope has stepped into our humble community, and so tonight we glorify our guests.”

Karen and Billy turned as the fifteen or so remaining members in the room cheered and clapped. Had she or Billy said anything about her pregnancy? Karen decided it didn’t really matter -- obviously one of them slipped the information without realizing it.

“Page twenty-three of the Lost Scripture states that the righteous shall confirm themselves by speaking in tongues,” John-Michael said, still staring at Karen.

The congregation added, “When called forth, those worthy will speak God’s will in tongues, and their leader will interpret His words.”

Suddenly, to both of their surprise, Karen and Billy together began to speak the same foreign words, “Nebiya so ke sinuya.”

“God finds both of our visitors worthy of His presence,” John-Michael and Vivian both translated and relayed in unison.

“Pifem at uya nabaj lurya,” Karen and Billy continued. Karen fell to her knees, red tears rolling down her face, astounded by this amazing miracle she and Billy shared.

“God calls us to the fertility rites,” John-Michael and Vivian both translated.

Karen and Billy both looked around as the organist began to play once more, and everyone in the room began to dance and shamelessly shed their clothes. Karen moved close to Billy, suddenly horrified. She moved to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

Billy held her close to him. “Just close your eyes,” he said.

Karen closed her eyes, quickly overtaken by the scent emanating heavily from the back of his neck. She noticed something strange about it, then realized that she was picking up the concentrated, mixed scent of everyone in the room. She felt herself go dizzy, feeling as though she might faint, and then suddenly found herself lying naked on the bench with Billy’s body coming down on top of her. The room was filled with the pleasured sounds of several couples engaging in sexual intercourse.

Karen found herself strangely aroused, anxious to feel Billy inside her, despite the many thoughts going through her head that she should not be naked with her husband amongst all of those strangers. Her mind was in a strange fog, however, and she no longer cared. For the moment, she couldn’t help but give in to the spell that controlled the entire room. She kept her eyes closed, afraid of what she might see should she open them.

“God, we pray for Your presence and Your blessings,” Karen heard John-Michael say as he mounted her and suddenly plunged his short, thick penis into her.

Karen opened her eyes and cried out upon seeing his ugly face above her, but no one else seemed to notice. Confused and scared, yet unable to shake her arousal, she moved with his body, enjoying him and taking him in with quick, hungry thrusts. She heard Billy moan from a distance, and she looked over, horrified to see Billy and Vivian passionately driving their bodies into one another beside the podium. “No! Billy!” she cried out, doing her best to push John-Michael off her.

“You’re okay!” he assured her, holding her tight, and suddenly it was Billy lying over her once more.

She stared at his face, confused, feeling something terribly wrong as the man held her down, becoming unusually violent with her, tearing into her selfishly and painfully.

“What’s going on?” she asked, seeing Billy’s face but knowing…knowing Billy wasn’t there.

“Just relax,” the man breathed.

Karen felt paralyzed, lost in a sickening, surreal nightmare, but at the same time, her body did relax upon the suggestion. She suddenly became overwhelmed by the fire within her as she, as well as the rest of the room, slipped into a moment of excruciating bliss. She cried out in terror and exhilaration, wishing that moment might never end, and at the same time hating Billy and herself for the horrific act they had just, for some reason, willingly performed.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Karen and Billy avoided discussing what happened at church, at least outwardly. Their minds drifted to the incident and they dealt with it somewhat at that level. They understood what John-Michael had pulled, but the sense of betrayal they both felt was still enormous. Karen blamed Billy for wanting to fit in too badly and not heeding her instincts, and Billy masked his heavy sense of guilt with anger and neglect toward her.

They knew at this point that they were both under John-Michael’s influence, but neither cared. John-Michael was a wise leader and there was a method to his madness. They could hate each other, but they could not hate John-Michael. They would stay together, because John-Michael felt it was best that way. They would stay at the commune, because the commune needed them.

Karen and Billy were assigned field work, weeding and picking ripe vegetables from nine o’clock until midnight. They worked inside the warehouse separating inventory with Peter and doing other odd jobs until three o’clock. The work was easy, but also menial, and their only pay was a room and a donor. Luckily, the time passed quickly, although each night seemed to run into the next.

The entire commune quickly found out about Karen’s pregnancy. Soon Charles and Nancy began to pressure Karen to take advantage of Dana as her donor. Karen did not want to use the girl, as she reminded her too much of Jia, the young woman who had taken her life back at Lizbeth House. Moreover, Dana was terrified of becoming a donor, horrified at the idea of someone mutilating her wrists and drinking the life from her, knowing that it would ultimately cost her either her health or her humanity. They remained passive about Karen’s reluctance for a couple of days, but when she continued to refuse for weeks, the nightly work wearing her down, Billy threatened to bring John-Michael in to intervene.

“Mind your own business!” Karen snapped.

“It’s not just you that you’re starving!” Billy reminded her, although there was no need for him to say the words aloud.

Charles and Nancy both worked to keep Dana in the room, also threatening to call in John-Michael.

“You’re embarrassing yourself!” Nancy yelled at the hysterical teenage girl.

“You’re embarrassing your whole family!” Charles yelled even louder.

“She’s not embarrassing anyone!” Karen yelled, terrified that one of them might follow through and bring in John-Michael, knowing that he could manipulate her to do whatever he pleased. Not wanting to lose control of herself like that again as long as she could help it, but also not wanting to hurt Dana, Karen struggled to find another solution.

Charles and Nancy were both far too drained by Peter, Steve, and Samantha to have even a drop of extra blood to offer. Billy wasn’t willing to help her out, either, both with little to spare and reluctance towards her after her union with John-Michael.

“You’re not helping!” Charles snapped at Karen. He grabbed Dana by the shoulders and forced the girl across the room, and quickly turned to Billy. “Talk some sense into your wife!”

“Please don’t make me!” Dana cried, resisting only slightly as her father hurried her over to Karen’s side. “I’m not ready! I’ll bleed out…or I’ll turn!”

“You’ve taken dozens of inoculations! You’ll be fine! This is our job!” Nancy yelled from halfway across the room.

Exasperated, Billy grabbed Dana’s wrist and held it between him and Karen, baring his extended teeth as he spoke. “Take it from her, or take it from me -- either way, it’s coming from her…and I think we’d both rather it be the latter right now!”

Dana shrieked.

“Let her go!” Karen yelled.

Karen and Billy stared one another down for a moment. Finally, Billy placed Dana’s hand in Karen’s, his eyes threatening.

“I don’t want to be a donor!” Dana cried.

“Then you shouldn’t be one,” Karen replied. Suddenly she felt faint and fell where she stood. Karen stared up at Billy for a moment and then everything faded to black.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Karen woke in what appeared to be a small infirmary. There were only a half dozen hospital-quality beds in the dark room and only two of them were occupied. The young man in the other bed slept quietly, surrounded by vases of flowers and homemade get-well cards.

Karen realized that an intravenous catheter had been placed in her arm, dripping fluids and the last of a blood transfusion into her. She felt sedated.

Billy and John-Michael both stood at the foot of the bed.

“You’re awake,” Billy said. “You know, we almost lost you.”

Karen looked over at Billy and their eyes met. Neither had to talk to know what the other was feeling or thinking, and at that moment, after Karen’s apparent close call, it seemed that they were both only concerned with moving on.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to attend to,” John-Michael said.

“Thanks for everything,” Billy said with a wave.

John-Michael nodded humbly, and then let himself out.

“Great guy,” Billy said. “He donated the blood for your transfusion. It turns out you both have the same rare blood type. You’re lucky he was here -- you were really running on empty.”

Karen looked at the last remnants of blood trickling down from the plastic drip bag, down the intravenous tube, and into her arm.

The man in the other bed startled awake and immediately began to writhe and scream, lighting up a sound monitor beside his bed. Two young, human nurses came in and hurried to his side, and then stood by as he began to wretch and cough. He vomited a thick, yellow substance, and then threw himself violently onto his back and returned to his horrific shrieking. One of the nurses held him down while the other gave him some kind of injection, and within moments the man was calm and quiet again.

The nurses worked together to attached a bag of fresh blood to the man’s intravenous drip, and then without so much as looking at Karen.

Karen gathered, from what Billy had pieced together, that the young man in the other bed must be the turning donor Steve had mentioned. His family had been there earlier, all of them begging the staff to do more to improve his condition. Nothing more could be done for the young man, though. The daily human blood transfusions the infirmary staff gave him in hopes of turning him back did nothing more than prolong the inevitable. To keep him sane, they kept him high on narcotics, heavily dosing him whenever he stirred, keeping his mind in a dream while his body lay in its prolonged, tortured state.

Karen felt fortunate that at least her transformation had been a quick and virtually painless event.

“I’m happy,” Karen said, surprised to hear the words.

“I’m glad,” Billy said, just as surprised.

A young man with a scruffy beard came in and met Billy at the side of Karen’s bed. The young doctor was obviously a human and clearly intimidated by vampires. He tried in vain to sound professional and authoritative as he spoke.

“I take it you’re feeling well again?” he asked Karen, exaggerating the depth to his tone of voice in attempt to compensate for the tightness in his nervous throat.

“I’m feeling fine,” Karen said.

“You can’t be taxing your body like that, not in your condition,” the doctor continued, working to manage his breaths and struggling to appear sympathetic about the situation. “You’re lucky that you didn’t miscarry.”

“I’m very lucky,” Karen agreed, “and I was very stupid. I promise you won’t see me in here again.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the doctor said as he removed the catheter from Karen’s arm. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. “Take the rest of the night off, doctor’s orders.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” Karen said, as she hopped off the uncomfortably firm mattress.

Karen and Billy took their time as they walked down the stone path, both of them feeling somber and reflective. The waning moon allowed for an amazing view of the summer sky, the few nearby lights allowing it to get dark enough for them to see the long arm of the Milky Way stretching toward eternity overhead. They stood still for a moment as a rogue meteor slashed through the atmosphere, just slightly over the horizon before them. The bright fireball shone a luminescent green, breaking up and sending out flickers of orange and yellow in its quick, short wake. They watched, held where they were in a moment of awe over the rare treat. Interestingly, they both immediately considered the fireball a sign that there was still hope for the two of them. Billy took Karen’s hand as he continued to walk her back to the house, unable to promise her anything, but willing to let go of as much of the past as possible if she would be willing to do the same.

An escort came speeding up behind the two, slowing as he approached. “Hold up!” He took a minute to catch his breath as Karen and Billy stood and watched, taken aback. “I must have just missed you at the hospital. Jean-Michele wants to see you ASAP!”

“Did she say what it was regarding?” Karen asked, not wanting to be bothered with any further issues that night. She wasn’t sure why, but she had developed a slight aversion to Jean-Michele, finding the woman rather crude and just downright ugly to look at. She hadn’t seen Jean-Michele more than a few times so far during her stay and each time she seemed to come off even more repulsive. It was not anything she did in particular, but rather the way she did it. Unlike her eloquent and diplomatic twin brother, Jean-Michele simply had no class.

“She said the matter was confidential in nature,” the escort replied, and then turned to Billy. “She requested your presence as well. Please follow me,” he continued, and then began back up the path.

Karen and Billy followed as he led them to a large house just down the path. The escort moved up to the front door and knocked lightly. Jean-Michele opened the door, nervously looked around, quickly invited them in, and dismissed the escort.

Karen and Billy entered hesitantly. Jean-Michele led them to a small room, where Peter sat talking to Little Bell.

“Have a seat,” Jean-Michele said.

Karen and Billy sat in nearby chairs, feeling unsure about their strange hosts. The tiny room, furnished with soft chairs and several bookcases, felt cramped and stuffy and Karen thought she might stop breathing when Jean-Michele closed the door and secured it with the quick twist of a skeleton key.

Jean-Michele nodded to Peter and suddenly the four of them were sitting in a wide, open field filled with fragrant wildflowers. A hoard of fairies immediately flew in to greet Little Bell and a moment later they all flew off together in one enormous swarm.

Billy immediately recognized that Peter had shifted each of their waking consciousnesses to a plane of his design. Unlike the lucid dream worlds Billy was used to creating in his sleep, this place could hold a person indefinitely should Peter will it; none of them would awaken until Peter granted them access out.

Karen wondered why Peter didn’t simply imprison John-Michael indefinitely, either here or in some other world. She then considered that Peter possibly had limitations similar to Billy’s. Perhaps, much like the dream worlds Billy could create, this place relied on Peter’s conscious presence in order to continue its hold on any other minds he happened to pull into it.

“What is this place?” Karen asked, eyeing the gorgeous landscape and eager to break the silence.

“Never-ever-ever Land!” Peter laughed, and then took off into the sky and disappeared.

“Don’t go off too far!” Jean-Michele yelled, and then turned to Karen and Billy. “I apologize for the informal arrangement, but John-Michael can read your thoughts everywhere else.”

Karen and Billy exchanged glances, knowing that what Jean-Michele said was true.

“I have no power here, but neither does John-Michael,” Jean-Michele continued. “Peter brought him here once, at my prompting. I thought I could take him by surprise, without his lackeys around to protect him -- but John-Michael is a lot bigger than I am.” Her eyes suddenly burned with a hatred that Karen and Billy recognized too well, and then she quickly added, “He’s a horrible man, and I don’t approve of his tactics or philosophical ideals at all.”

Karen and Billy realized that the complacent fog John-Michael had their minds trapped in was somehow lifted in this plane. Billy couldn’t help wondering if the same held true within his personal dream-states. Still, Jean-Michele knew nothing of his abilities and neither of them had any more reason to trust her than they had to trust her demented, manipulative brother.

“At the next church service, John-Michael will announce Vivian’s pregnancy. Everyone will know that the child is yours, but they will accept it as true enough when John-Michael claims it as his own,” Jean-Michele continued, glaring at Billy. “You should hear the things they’ve said about both of you, behind closed doors.”

Karen felt her face flush, her heart speeding up. She knew that Jean-Michele was playing them both, but she couldn’t help reacting even to such vague implications. The knowledge that John-Michael not only weaseled and tricked his way in between her legs and deluded Billy into impregnating his wife was bad enough, but that John-Michael and Vivian also had the audacity to mock them after the fact was almost more than she could bear.

“What makes you think there’s anything we can do?” Billy asked, also shocked at Jean-Michele’s allegations. “And why come to us now?”

“I wasn’t sure I could trust you before.” Jean-Michele paused, carefully choosing her words. “Peter has peeked in on your recent dreams and told me what he saw. You must understand that John-Michael sees both Peter and me as threats because, for some reason, he can’t control either of us. He tolerates us because we’re family -- everyone else here is so far gone, they would see him as a prophet even far outside his mental influence. You’re the only new non-human members we’ve had in over ten years. I don’t know when another opportunity like this will come.”

“What do you want us to do?” Karen asked, growing no less wary of the woman, knowing that both Billy’s mind and her own would return to their fog once Peter pulled them from this place, and therefore they were as useless against John-Michael as anyone else there. Perhaps this was some kind of test? she mentally suggested to Billy.

Billy thought the notion was not completely out of the question but, then again, if it were a test, their thoughts would already have given them away. Why would John-Michael and his sister play such pointless games? Karen and Billy decided to continue to tread carefully.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jean-Michele stared at Billy with serious, pleading eyes. “Peter told me he saw ‘magic’ in you, the same kind of ‘magic’ that’s in him. If you were to pull John-Michael into a plane of your making, you could kill him. You don’t want to become another one of his drones for the rest of your life, do you?”

Karen and Billy considered Jean-Michele’s proposition. They knew that John-Michael did control them and everyone else there, and that he had already, and likely would continue to force them to do things that neither of them would chose to be any part of while in their right minds. If there was a chance Billy could kill him, he would definitely take it. However, Jean-Michele was likely not the altruist in this plot, and both Karen and Billy suspected that she had an ulterior motive.

“I could lead these people so much better than John-Michael and without brainwashing them,” Jean-Michele said. “The prophecy said our great leader would be a twin, but as you can see John-Michael has been anything but great to the people.”

“So you think you should be leading the people?” Karen asked.

Jean-Michele shrugged. “What would you suggest? A democratic election, so that the most popular resident, but not necessarily the most intelligent or most capable of leading, might fill his spot?”

Karen and Billy decided to leave well enough alone, worrying about their own agenda and letting the residents of the commune worry about their own internal politics after they have left. It seemed evident that John-Michael needed to die if they had any chance of getting out. Moreover, as far as Karen and Billy were concerned, John-Michael deserved no less than death for what he did to them at “church.” Whatever happened beyond that was no concern of theirs.

“Unlike Peter, I have to fall asleep in a deep, focused meditation in order to draw a plane.” Billy asked. “As soon as I leave here, I’ll be under John-Michael’s influence again.”

“You’ll tip him off to our plan the moment you leave here, as well. Our only option, then, is for you to remain here -- out of John-Michael’s reach -- until you’re ready to sleep.” Jean-Michele answered, “You can access your dream planes from here, correct?”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just have Peter bring him here right now,” Billy said. “Between the four of us, we would have no problem taking him on.”

“John-Michael told Peter he would kill him if he ever brought him here again, and he took the threat very much to heart. Peter has no idea what we’re planning, and he would back out the moment he discovered what we were up to,” Jean-Michele said. “Can I count you in?”

Karen and Billy both thought about it, and then nodded together.

“Good,” she said, taking a long, relieved breath. “Take some time and get a feel for this place. You’ll find the normal laws of physics don’t apply here.” She looked up into the dark, starry sky, and whistled loudly.

Peter swooped in overhead only moments later, landing beside Jean-Michele. “What’s up?”

“I need you to stay here with Karen and Billy, while I go back to London and finish my work for the night. Can you entertain a couple of guests for a few hours while Mother works?” Jean-Michele asked Peter.

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Sure! No problem!”

“I need you to send me back to London,” Jean-Michele said. “Do not, for any reason, return to London yourself or send either of our guests back until you hear again from me. Do you understand?”

Peter nodded and suddenly Jean-Michele was gone. He turned to Karen and Billy. “Want the bird’s eye tour?” he asked them, darting back up into the air.

Billy took Karen’s hand, and together they sailed off into the sky, following Peter through his vast and originative mental illusion.

Karen, Billy, and Peter sat on a cliff overlooking the beach, waiting for dawn. A comfortable, warm breeze blew through the air, and the sound of waves crashing into the beach was rhythmic and soothing. Karen and Billy could understand why this was, of all places in his little world, Peter’s favorite spot to sit and think.

“Not much longer now,” Karen said, feeling nervous. She and Billy couldn’t help but wonder if John-Michael had been able to sense their mental absence over the past several hours and, more importantly, if he might suspect anything. Of course, as powerful and commanding as his suggestions were, his place in all of the minds he controlled was still small and finite. It was just as likely that he could only pick up on strong or nearby thoughts. They could only hope that their bodies -- lying virtually comatose in Jean-Michele’s house, yet still rightfully conscious -- would remain safe until John-Michael retired for the morning. That was assuming Jean-Michele had no motive to double-cross them, as well.

The sun slowly peeked over the horizon causing Karen and Billy to spring to their feet.

“Run for cover!” Peter cried, and then laughed hysterically as the two darted for the closest source of shade.

Karen and Billy turned and watched, playing poor sports as Peter stood in the light of the imagined sunrise. The sky grew mottled with various shades of luminescent pinks, blues, and purples.

“Sunrise makes the sky turn pink and purple,” Peter said. “It doesn’t burn here, though. It’s just like watching it in a movie.”

Karen slowly moved back to the edge of the cliff, marveling at the colors and the light. It was exactly how she remembered it -- only she couldn’t feel it. She was relieved that the light didn’t burn her skin, and yet she felt disappointed that Peter didn’t know enough to simulate that wonderful sensation of warmth the sun naturally gave. More than the sight of it, she missed the feel of the sun. Understanding that this was the closest either Peter or Billy could ever come to actually experiencing sunlight, however, she turned back with a grateful smile, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Billy, come look!” she said.

Billy came up behind her, in awe over the sight but still unable to appreciate it as profoundly as she could. He never felt much of anything for the sun except fear and revulsion. He assumed Peter only held a fascination with the hellish fireball because he likely never had the misfortune of experiencing a sunburn. Feeling less impressed the more he thought about it, Billy moved back to the shade of a nearby tree, deciding he had seen enough.

Billy’s thoughts prompted Karen to flash back to the bout of sun poisoning she experienced not too long ago. She shuddered, wishing Billy could keep his thoughts to himself, and then joined him in the shade.

“Peter!” They could all hear Jean-Michele’s voice call, seemingly from the heavens above. “Can you hear me?”

“Just in time!” Peter giggled and clapped his hands with excitement. Suddenly Jean-Michele stood beside him on the cliff.

Jean-Michele looked over at the sunrise. “Pretty.” She turned to Peter. “Why don’t you go off and find Little Bell? Billy, Karen, and I have some business to attend to.”

“Little Bell!” Peter yelled, and immediately the strange little illusion flew into view and landed on Peter’s shoulder. “Is it time to go back to London?” he asked.

“Mother has business to attend to first. It won’t take long,” Jean-Michele said with a strained smile.

Peter glanced over at Billy, and then back at Jean-Michele. “Here? What business?” he asked. “I’m getting really tired.”

“Go take a nap at the clubhouse. We’ll catch up with you there when we’ve finished what we came to do,” Jean-Michele said, growing impatience now evident in her voice.

“You’re the boss.” Peter saluted Jean-Michele, clearly taken aback. Just the same, he took off into the air and darted off into the distance with Little Bell at his side.

Jean-Michele turned to Billy. “We only have one chance at this. You can bring him here, right?”

Billy nodded.

Karen found herself so worked up that she fought a bout of full-blown panic. What if John-Michael’s control over them returned the moment Billy brought him in? What other tricks might he have hiding under his sleeve?

Billy had quite a few new tricks of his own, compliments of the late Andy, but he had found that he was only decent at performing a few of them. Unfortunately, it would take time to practice and perfect some of the more impressive moves, such as contact soul-eating and thought-induced dementia curses. Billy did find, however, that he could shape-shift quite easily, taking on any number of different organic forms that could support his fixed mass. He had a good feel for this plane’s gravity and other physics, finding them similar to those of his dream planes. As soon as he fell asleep, he could make this place partially his. Then he would be able to manipulate his surroundings, will new objects into being, and bring in others from the physical plane with no more effort than he would use to affect a simple thought.

“Do you know if John-Michael has any abilities here?” Karen asked, fearing the worst.

“He’s pretty much as harmless here as I am.” Jean-Michele smiled, her long, thin lips going tight with smug delight. She suddenly appeared lost in thought for a moment, but then she turned back to Billy, her face gravely serious and her demeanor going firm. “I want to watch his eyes as the life rushes out of them. Could you give me that one last bit of satisfaction?”

Billy gave her a single nod, although he found the request disturbing. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Karen didn’t like the situation at all, feeling as though there was still more to the picture than Jean-Michele was willing to let on. She tried to convince Billy to buy them some more time, but Billy seemed to think they were as ready as they would ever be. She braced herself as Billy closed his eyes, concentrated for a moment, and then pulled John-Michael’s consciousness from the physical to Peter’s Astral plane.

John-Michael hadn’t even the time to discern where he was before Billy had him by the throat on the ground. Jean-Michele ran up and kicked her brother in the head, nearly knocking him out, when Peter suddenly dove in and knocked Jean-Michele and Billy into one another and to the ground.

“You lied!” Peter shouted. “You promised!” He turned to John-Michael. “It wasn’t me! I swear!”

“Really?” John-Michael asked, not seeming to care.

“No!” Jean-Michele cried, scrambling back to her feet as John-Michael plucked Peter from where he stood, grabbed his throat with one squat hand, and began to strangle him.

Peter panicked, clearly forgetting that they all currently stood in a world of his own design, his only response being to scream and flail. A cloud of little fairies bombarded John-Michael, all of them curiously armed with tiny swords and hammers. The group made a valiant, but futile, attempt to assist their vampire friend.

Karen scrambled behind a tree, mentally begging for Billy to do the same, while Jean-Michele charged toward her brother, screaming.

Billy got back to his feet just long enough for Jean-Michele to knock him back to the ground, as John-Michael grabbed her with his free hand and flung her backwards. Several fairies also went flying, their little bodies stunned and broken as John-Michael knocked them from the air like handballs on a hot court.

Karen watched Peter’s eyes rolling back, his mouth contorting as he fought for just one more breath, and then everything began to fade to black.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Karen suddenly found herself back in the tiny, stuffy room. She jumped as Jean-Michele sprang to her feet, immediately rushing to Peter’s side. She watched, stunned and silent, as Peter’s body flailed and twitched. Little Bell was nowhere to be seen.

“Wake up!” Jean-Michele cried. “Return to London now, Peter!”

Peter gasped, as his eyes snapped open. He looked at Jean-Michele, tried to speak, and then his eyes glossed over as the life in them went flat and his breath left him with a quick, hushed sigh.

Jean-Michele screamed, grabbing the body and crying, “No!” between long, horrific sobs.

Karen noticed that her mind was no longer connected to Billy’s. In a panic, she quickly felt for his pulse. He was still alive. What was he doing? “Billy?” she called into his ear.

Jean-Michele shoved Karen aside and grabbed Billy’s unconscious body by his shirt. “Bring me back in! I want to kill him myself!”

Billy responded to neither of them.

“Do you hear me?!” Jean-Michele cried, shaking Billy as bloody tears stained her face.

Karen pulled Jean-Michele off him and held herself between them. “Don’t distract him!”

“Peter!” Jean-Michele cried, moving forward once more, and then suddenly crumbling to the floor. “Bastard!” she shrieked, tucked her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around herself, and sobbed uncontrollably.

Karen sat down at Billy’s side, the quiet in her mind unsettling. She took his hand in hers, missing him already, even though he was not yet gone. She wondered why Billy opted to fight John-Michael alone, and she could only hope that he knew what he was doing. Helplessly, she waited.

Jean-Michele’s donor knocked on the locked door. “My Lady?”

“Go away!” Jean-Michele yelled.

“Why is the door locked? I heard a scream,” the human continued.

“Leave me alone!” Jean-Michele yelled even louder.

“Yes, my Lady,” the donor said, and then walked away.

Karen jumped with a start as Billy’s body twitched. “Billy?”

“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have brought you two into this!” Jean-Michele bawled, already expecting defeat. She could see it in her mind’s eye -- any moment now, Billy would also breathe out his last breath, and then Karen, too, would be crying the same grieving cry.

“Billy!” Karen yelled, allowing Jean-Michele’s fears to feed her own. “Don’t leave me here! Billy?”

Karen suddenly found herself in the dark void once again. She stood only about a yard away from the men, squarely behind John-Michael’s back.

John-Michael stood in the vast nothingness, his arms fought shackles that seemingly were chained to something far away, out of sight. His body slowly healed from what appeared to have been a brutal beating; various weapons lay near his feet, seemingly suspended in the void. Somehow during his lashing, he had gotten hold of Billy and now held him securely by each arm, despite the shackles.

Karen watched as John-Michael fought to find a spot in which to sink his teeth into Billy and finish him off. Being once again connected mentally, she found John-Michael’s attempts pitiful, knowing that Billy was simply playing the man for his own vindictive amusement. How out of character for him, she thought.

John-Michael seemed to have a knack for bringing out the worst in everyone, however.

Billy suddenly contorted, his arms changing shape just long enough to break free from John-Michael’s tight hold. He turned to Karen with a cocky smile, placing himself just beyond John-Michael’s angry reach. “Bastard bashed his forehead into my face,” Billy said, mentally noting how glad he was that he currently stood on a plane where he could easily and quickly will away the effects of a broken nose or a knocked-out tooth. A deadly blow would take him out just as effectively as it would anyone else, but beyond that Billy appeared to be quite the formidable cerebral foe.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it!” John-Michael growled.

“I thought I’d give Karen that satisfaction,” Billy said, glancing over at her. “I’m done playing.” The chains attached to John-Michael’s bound wrists went taut. The void slowly began to take shape, and abruptly the three stood in the overgrown field near the old Victorian. John-Michael was tied to an old oak tree and imaginary constellations filled the moonlit sky.

Karen walked around to Billy’s side to face John-Michael for what she hoped would be the last time and kicked away the weapons that remained at her feet as she passed them. She stared John-Michael in the eyes for only a moment before she shot her knee into his groin and spat in his face.

John-Michael groaned, hanging limp for a moment, and then muttered something to himself and chuckled.

“Something funny?” Karen asked.

“I said,” John-Michael growled, speaking loudly and annunciating his words with exaggerated sharpness, “is that your best, bitch?”

Strangely, Billy joined him, seeming to find the comment hysterical.

“I do love a good gag,” John-Michael said, rubbing his wrists as his shackles suddenly disappeared.

Karen turned to run, but John-Michael quickly grabbed her in a tight bear hug. She looked up at Billy, expecting his assistance, but instead he remained where he stood, crossing his arms.

Billy gave Karen a startling smirk. Thoughts flooded her mind and she realized that, up until now, John-Michael had been blocking part of Billy’s consciousness from her. It seemed Billy made the mistake of assuming that, with John-Michael’s place in his world under his control, he was safe in attempting to drain him. Only moments after the attempt, however, John-Michael found that his abilities on the Astral paralleled those of his abilities on the physical. Billy was now his virtual puppet on both.

“I don’t take kindly to mutiny,” John-Michael said, his breath hot and repugnant against her ear.

Karen eyed the various weapons that lay only feet away from her. Billy noticed her interest and began tossing all of them even further out of range.

“If you could choose any way you wouldn’t want to die, what would it be?” John-Michael asked.

Karen purposely occupied her mind with thoughts about benign subjects: the various colors within the surrounding overgrowth; the contour of the old Victorian; how many stars there were in this fake sky that seemingly blanketed overhead.

But Billy knew. Billy knew that Karen had already gotten a taste of what they all knew was the worst way any of them could die, and therefore John-Michael knew just as well what Karen feared most.

John-Michael threw Karen up against the tree, and instantly, her wrists were bound firmly to its trunk. “I like it better from this perspective.”

“Billy?” Karen tried.

Billy was unresponsive.

John-Michael gave Karen a vindictive smirk. “I can guarantee you won’t try to cross me again,” he said. He turned to Billy. “I think it’s time that the sun comes up, don’t you?”

Light began to peek over the eastern horizon.

“Billy!” Karen screamed, knowing right away that the sun coming up now was not like the one that Peter made. Under John-Michael’s influence, Billy brought forth a light that burned their eyes and made the air taste like rust, a light that would prove deadly as soon as it spilled over the mountainside and flooded into the fields.

“I’ll wait back in the house, if you don’t mind,” John-Michael said, patting Billy on the shoulder. He began toward the Victorian. “See you both in Hell,” he said with a wave of his arm, before disappearing in the tall, weed-ridden growth.

Billy stood beside Karen, watching the horizon. They both flinched as the first hot wisps of direct light streaked in at them and the sky filled with hues of pink and purple.

“It doesn’t have to be a real sunrise!” Karen cried, although she knew that Billy would rationalize around her pleas, no matter what she said.

John-Michael truly did have a knack for bringing out the very worst in everyone.

Karen thought to continue trying to find some way to get through to Billy, despite John-Michael’s potent hypnotic suggestion. Instead, she decided to use her last few minutes to let go of all of the terrible things that continued to weigh down her soul.

Karen cried and prayed as the light enveloped her. The pain was everything she remembered it to be. Their flesh began to burn and bleed. Death was imminent. Billy cried out with her. It was only a matter of time now for both of them.

Karen turned to Billy as he fell to his knees. Her tears burned her seared skin as she blinked and her view of him grew fuzzy. “I love you, Billy,” she cried.

“Karen,” Billy groaned. He suddenly rose to his feet with a loud cry and slowly stumbled over to her. He collapsed up against her, shielding her body with his own. “I love you, too.”

“Then just take the sun away!” she cried. “Or take us out of here!”

“I can’t!” he replied, his eyes filled with a strange mix of desperation and determination.

“You can!” Karen began to sob hysterically, unable to help but continue pleading with him. Her cries fell on deaf ears, however, and she wondered how he was able to find the strength to save her life but not his own.

“I love you,” Billy whispered once more.

Everything faded to black.

Karen woke to a hot, searing rush of pain surging through every inch of her body. Billy lay beside her, close to death and shaking with shock. Karen looked over to find Jean-Michele half-asleep beside Peter’s cold, dead body.

Her mind back under the control of John-Michael, she felt that Jean-Michele, the traitor, was ultimately responsible for everything that had occurred, and she charged toward the woman with an angry cry.

Jean-Michele fell against the back of her seat as Karen knocked her back and sank her teeth into her neck. Jean-Michele fought her, pulled her hair, and tried to bite her back, but Karen’s strength, combined with the massive amounts of adrenaline and endorphins racing through her body, prevailed.

Karen consumed very little of Jean-Michele’s blood, however, before her mind began to clear and John-Michael’s influence over her came to an abrupt halt.

Billy’s consciousness was now but a mere whisper in the back of her mind. He no longer moved.

Knowing she had no time to waste and no other options, she continued to drink until her stomach was engorged and Jean-Michele lay on the brink of death. She rushed over to Billy, tore open her wrist, and moved it to his mouth, but it was already too late.

He did not respond.

Karen searched her mind for him. He was gone. Her body going hot and weak, she desperately felt for a pulse. There was none. She cried out, unsure what to do next, unwilling to lose him. In a panic, she attempted to administer CPR. The effort was futile.

Karen lay beside his body, holding it, crying and cursing the world. The silence and emptiness in her mind was unbearable. Once more, she was alone.

Chapter Thirty

It felt like eons before the sun finally set. Jean-Michele died shortly after Billy, and the dark room now felt damned by the presence of the three corpses. Karen stepped slowly and deliberately around them, as if the wrong move might cause them all to rise in some new, ugly, nightmarish incarnation. She took one last look at Billy’s face and quickly turned away. She didn’t want to remember him that way; it barely looked like him, anymore. She pictured his real face in her mind’s eye, and her throat tightened up once more. She felt in his pants pocket for the keys to the motor home, and then turned away from him completely.

She glanced over at Jean-Michele’s body, acknowledging the fact that she was a killer twice over now. The weight on her soul felt heavy as she pulled the skeleton key from the dead woman’s pocket and let herself out.

Karen hurried to the front door and looked out the peephole. A couple of John-Michael’s people already waited for her.

Karen heard Jean-Michele’s donor scream back in the small side room, obviously having found the bodies, and she tossed open the door and ran despite the immediate chase.

“Get her!” they yelled.

“I want her alive!” Karen could hear John-Michael’s voice echo from somewhere in the distance.

Karen bolted into the corn field, hoping to lose her pursuers, but when she entered the clearing on the other side, the three men were still right at her heels.

It seemed Karen wasn’t the only one who could run super fast.

Glad to have the extra blood moving through her system, Karen continued to give chase, using Jean-Michele’s knowledge of the terrain to direct her back to her vehicle.

One man reached to grab Karen, and she instinctively leapt into a tree, leaving him with only a small lock of her hair. He leapt after her, but she sprang back to the ground and darted through a heavy patch of brush, finally reaching her destination.

One man slammed up against the driver’s side door, just as Karen got it open.

“Going somewhere?” the man asked, turning as a couple of others also approached.

Karen swept the man’s legs out from under him and quickly slipped into the vehicle. She locked the doors and fumbled with the keys.

A few others slammed into the sides of the motor home as the man outside Karen’s door got back to his feet. Karen heard one of the rear tires burst as one of them took a knife to it.

Karen started the engine with a loud roar and slammed it into reverse. Having less difficulty with the cumbersome vehicle than she expected, she turned it around and attempted to shake her pursuers. The motor home shook and whined as she forced it back up the windy hill, now with five of John-Michael’s people running alongside and behind it.

Karen watched in her side-view mirror as one of the men took a swipe at the other back tire, missing only by millimeters. Karen swerved, forcing the man over the cliff, and almost losing control of the motor home and going over the side as well.

She steadied the vehicle, finding it progressively more difficult to do so. The one popped tire was now completely flat and falling apart. It made a horrific sound, but Karen continued on, knowing she had no other choice. If John-Michael’s people caught her, they would bring her back to the commune and keep her restrained or locked up until Jean-Michele’s blood was out of her system and she was once again susceptible to John-Michael’s spell. A pregnant woman was too valuable a commodity for John-Michael to lose without a fight, and suddenly she wondered if Billy had spared her life because of his own will to save her or because John-Michael wasn’t willing to kill two viable breeders. It was likely, now that she thought about it, that John-Michael had played her throughout the entirety of Billy’s dream, and that he had killed Billy for no other reason than to teach her a “lesson” in his own unique and sadistic way.

Perhaps he even knew that the series of events would compel Karen to do what he could not -- kill Jean-Michele.

Karen considered the entire scenario, hating John-Michael even more. She sped up the motor home, hoping it had the gas to outrun the three men who continued to follow right behind her. As far as she was concerned, dying a violent death over the side of a cliff was a small risk compared to a lifetime under John-Michael’s control.

One by one, the men running after Karen began to tire. She slowed the motor home when it became clear that her pursuers could run no further. She carefully steered her way through the rest of the foothills, following Billy’s handwritten directions backwards. She nearly made it back to the main highway when the motor home finally ran out of gas.

Knowing that John-Michael likely had people digging up car keys so that they might follow her by vehicle, Karen slipped the motor home in neutral just long enough to back it across the narrow, tree-framed road at a horizontal slant, blocking it sufficiently enough to keep any type of automobile from passing. She tossed the keys into the distance after locking the vehicle, and then continued toward the highway on foot.

Only a short way into her walk, Karen jumped as a car swerved to miss her. The car screeched to a halt and the driver, a young man around Karen’s age, got out. “Thank God! I thought I hit you!”

“What were you thinking?” Karen yelled, suddenly, for some reason, feeling emotional and angry about the near-miss. Her mind flashed back to the last time she was hit by a vehicle and that memory alone was enough to bring her to tears.

“You’re the one dressed in dark colors, running around on the side of the road at night!” the young man yelled back.

Karen took a look at her clothing, realizing that she was still wearing the commune’s Puritan-style dress and tight corset, and blushed, doing her best to keep her tears soaked up by her dark sleeves. “I didn’t realize you couldn’t see me,” she cried.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, feeling sorry for her.

“Yes! Thank you!” Karen said, and then hurried with him up to the idling car.

As they got in the car and the overhead dome light went on, the young man noticed the dried blood on Karen’s face. “What’s all over your face?”

Karen felt the caked, dried blood. “I must have thrown up,” Karen said, a story beginning to concoct itself in her head. “I think I blacked out. I woke up on the side of the road.”

The young man hurried the car back onto the highway. “Did you get drunk?”

Karen thought for a moment. “I think I was drugged.”

“Do you need to go to a hospital?” he asked, concerned. “The police station is only a few miles down the–”

“No.” Karen shook her head, her voice firm and resolute. “I’ll be okay.”

“Where can I take you, then? Do you live anywhere locally?”

Karen shrugged. “I have no idea where I’m going.”

The young man shook his head. “You should know better than to hitchhike, especially out in the middle of nowhere! You’re probably lucky to still be alive!”

“Probably,” Karen said.

Karen ducked low in her seat as another car came up behind them, rode up onto the car’s tail for a moment, and then passed it by.

“You running from someone?” the young man asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Are you wanted?” he continued.

“Of course not!” Karen hoped her guilt didn’t muddle its way through her voice as she wondered just how true the statement was. “If you’re going to play twenty questions, you can just drop me back off on the side of the road.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be so nosy.”

“Sure.”

“I’m on my way to the Foothill Bar for a few rounds of pool, maybe a couple of beers,” the young man began, and then quickly reconsidered. “But I’m sure you’ve had enough to drink.”

Karen cleared her throat. “It’s been a long night.”

The young man nodded, even though he had no idea. “I can drop you off at the Southern County hub. It’s not too far from here, and not at all out of my way. There’s a bus stop, a bed and breakfast, and a few other signs of civilization nearby.”

“Thanks,” Karen said, wondering how any of that was going to do her any good, given the fact that she had no money. Still, it was nice to bump into a Good Samaritan, and she knew that the young man meant well.

Karen wondered if his good intentions might be stretched far enough to buy her a room with a shower and a bus ticket out of town, as well. The young man’s eyes catching hers every ten or twenty seconds, clearly primed, Karen wondered what other alternative she had.

Chapter Thirty-One

Karen was able to talk the nice young man into parting with all of the paper money in his wallet, enough to get her to the nearest city with a few twenties to spare, before dropping her off. Although the young man’s kind gesture was a sole product of Karen’s polished suggestive skills, she liked to think that his helping her out was proof that good, helpful people still did exist in the world.

There were a few delusions Karen simply had to entertain right now, her sanity, as strange as it seemed, depended on a few remaining constants in her mind. She had to believe that there was some place she and her child, should he or she happen to be born like her, could live without having to kill, live in fear, or fall subject to hypnotizing religious cults. She had to believe that the utter emptiness and heart-wrenching pain that Billy’s death left her with would eventually wane in time. She had to believe that there was a reason for all of this, a reason she and her baby survived, and a reason she escaped the commune.

Only time would tell. For now, she needed to believe.

Karen checked into a cheap motel, opting to spend the rest of her money on three days of rest, hot showers, and peace of mind. She felt embarrassed to show herself in her commune dress, and she hoped that she would find a way to acquire a change of clothing sooner rather than later. For now, however, solitude and meditation needed to be her sole priorities. With the calm that came with the knowledge that she was safe for the moment also came the sudden and intense need to grieve. Being in survival mode had held much of her emotion at bay. Now that the distraction of fight and flight was gone, the emotion, the regrets, and the flashbacks came in deluges.

Three days were not nearly enough for Karen to get herself together to go back out into the world and figure out her next move, and when the motel manager finally came to kick her out, she begged him to offer her just a small amount of charity. He allowed her to stay a while longer “out of the goodness of his heart,” but Karen knew she couldn’t hide away in a motel room forever, no matter how well-hypnotized she kept the man.

As close as she was to the area, Karen considered returning to the old Victorian, if anything to confront her remaining demons and retrieve her laptop, should it still be waiting for her in her summer room. She knew that there was always a chance the house might still be occupied by Billy’s family. Moreover, she didn’t know how she would react if she were to return only to find the bloody remains of whatever melee occurred before the police finally arrived on that fateful day, now nearly two months ago. She finally opted to simply stay where she was, until she found the strength to move on.

The weeks slowly passed by and Karen found herself beginning to get hungry, once again. It was the top of the month, and the manager came by to check on her and see if she had any idea how much longer she would be staying. She tried to ignore him when he knocked on the door, but she did nothing to stop him when he let himself in with his master key.

Karen got up from the bed, annoyed with the intrusion. “I told you I’d let you know,” she said, moving to the door and standing by it.

“My boss found out you were here. He told me I need to rent this room out to a paying customer, or I’ll be fired,” the manager said. “I tried to explain to him that there were extenuating circumstances, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

“Could I talk to him?” Karen asked.

“He won’t be back until next week, and he wants you out tonight,” the manager explained.

“Then who will know if I did or did not leave tonight?” Karen asked.

“The books will know!” the manager said, looking torn. “If I had the money to spare, I’d put you up for a few more days myself, but I just don’t make that much. I’ve got a family to support, you know.”

The manager had mentioned his family numerous times before, knocking him out of the running as a potential blood source. Karen knew she would need to find someone she could live with killing soon, and for that reason alone she left the motel without further argument. Perhaps whatever scumbag she finally settled on would have enough money on him to buy her just a little more time.

But time for what? To continue rotting away in that motel room? Perhaps it was finally time to move on.

Karen walked down the street, toward the city park. She had noticed a number of undesirable-looking characters hanging out there when she first came into town. She hoped to find someone society wouldn’t miss too much, if she walked through the large, landscaped property long enough. The thought of killing anyone, even a homeless junkie, was repulsive, but her will to live had grown strong.

She had to believe that there was a reason.

She walked slowly, looking meek and modest in her heavy dress, waiting for a predator to strike so that she might make it her prey. They were out there. They were everywhere, she now understood. She would kill everyone that crossed her path, and she would see John-Michael’s face as she did.

She nervously entered a dark, relatively removed alley, shaking and sweating. Her angst came not from the possible dangers that awaited her, but rather what she knew she had to do, should anyone choose to follow her in.

She had not prepared herself for every possibility, however, and when three gangbangers, high on crack, decided to ambush her, intent on gang rape, something inside her snapped.

Screaming and wailing, one by one she threw the men into the hard brick wall, and then grabbed the nearest one and tore his throat open. When the other two men attempted to run, one of them readying a revolver, she leapt into their path and tossed them both back by their dying friend. She went after the one with the revolver first, taking a bullet to the chest before slamming the young man into the wall and quickly finding his throat. She dropped him to go after the third, just as he made it back to the street.

The man now screamed as she dragged him back into the shadows to finish him. She ignored his apologies and pleas for mercy, and she avoided with ease his attempts to blind side her. She drank as much as she could, doing her best to tuck away the man’s thoughts and memories along with the two other gangbangers, getting better at delineating herself from those from which she drank. She became oblivious to all that was around her, consumed with her current kill. His blood intoxicated her in a way she had never experienced before -- she did not stop to consider the possibility that the blood she drank might be tainted with high levels of cocaine.

Karen drank until she thought her stomach would burst and then dropped the body. She suddenly felt invincible, euphoric, and numb to all of the pain she had struggled with over the last month. She couldn’t even feel her gunshot wound, which was slowly festering out the bullet and healing damaged lung, muscle, and skin tissue.

She threw aside the body as she realized that two squad cars flashing red and blue lights sat just outside the alley, blocking her retreat.

A light suddenly shone directly into her face, blinding her. She cried out, terrified, unsure what to do.

“Put your hands where we can see them!” a man yelled, his voice amplified by a bullhorn.

Karen turned to a nearby fire escape and sprang up as high as she could, grabbing the second-story railing.

Several officers began to open fire as she pulled herself up. She fell from the railing with a horrified scream as one of the bullets hit her just below her knee, another catching her in the shoulder.

She landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her for a moment. As she struggled to get back up two electrode darts found their way to her chest and two hundred-thousand volts of electricity scorched through her body. She immediately went down, her legs no longer able to hold her as she shrieked and shook as the officers quickly surrounded her.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Karen opened her eyes to the sound of voices and shoes clicking against linoleum. She looked around, her heart dropping as her mind grew lucid and she realized that last night had not simply been a horrific dream. Or had she been there for a couple of nights? She couldn’t remember. The tiny, white padded cell imprisoning her was only vaguely familiar, and yet so much of what had happened since the attack in the alley was enshrouded in thick fog.

The only window, a small slit three quarters of the way up the door, was just big enough to peer through. The hallway beyond was too bright for Karen to look at, so she sat in the corner, wearing a pair of grey, hospital-issued pajamas, waiting to meet whoever was responsible for her captivity.

She glanced over at a tray that held a paper cup filled with orange juice and a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Even from across the room the smell of the sausage, now cold and encased in a layer of congealed grease, was nauseating.

She felt the intense need to smoke something, anything. The stronger the better, but she would be willing to settle for anything: a cigarette, some pot, a rock of cocaine….

Karen had never been addicted to anything in her life, but James and A. J., two of the gangbangers she killed, were both heavy addicts. Her body ached for a fix the way it might ache for blood, and she wished she might fall back to sleep soon, for no other reason than to escape the discomfort and disquiet in her mind. Had she the energy, she would have tried to find a way out, or demanded more drugs, or have done something to relieve the terrible sensations building within her. She just didn’t have it in her, unfortunately, and so she lay unmoving, waiting for whatever it was that her new captors had in store for her.

A shadow came over the door and a pair of bright green eyes peeked in, glaring over at Karen but refusing to look directly at her. “Karen?” the man asked.

Karen was surprised that this person, whoever she was, knew her name. She knew that denial of her identity would be futile, as whoever this person was would not have addressed her by her name, and with such confidence, if she didn’t have her sources in order. Instead, Karen moved to a more important matter, “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Dr. Andrews. I’d like to help you.”

“What the hell am I doing here?” Karen asked, sitting up and trying to get a fix on the doctor’s eyes.

“We have some officers here, and a couple of other doctors who would like to talk to you, when you’re ready. We’d all like to hear your side of what happened the other night,” Dr. Andrews continued.

“I really don’t think you do,” Karen said, unsure about saying much more.

“Why do you say that?” the doctor asked.

Karen declined to respond, knowing that she would get nowhere trying to explain herself as the situation stood. She continued to glare at the woman’s eyes through the thin slit, hoping she might find some influence over the doctor, but she could not. She simply refused to get a good look at her.

Did Dr. Andrews somehow know what she was dealing with?

“You don’t want to talk?” Dr. Andrews asked.

Karen remained silent.

The doctor’s eyes left the small window as she turned to what Karen understood to be a small group of people. “This particular patient presents with a retrovirus we’ve only seen once before, but we have determined that it is both blood-borne and saliva-borne. We got her by chance when the Southern County sheriff’s men sent out a blood sample to one of our labs.”

There was a small amount of chatter as the small audience exchanged back-patting and humble acknowledgments.

“We were positive the poor thing had rabies,” said a nearby man, whom Karen assumed was likely the sheriff of Southern County.

There were a couple of laughs. “Good guess!” another man chuckled.

The sound of clicking heels kicked up as the group began their way back down the hall.

“What happened to the other case?” another voice asked.

“We tried anti-viral agents but, strangely, those only caused him to deteriorate quicker. His body rejected any food we tried to give him. We tried using a feeding tube, even intravenous sugar water. He literally starved to death, and there was nothing we could do.” Dr. Andrews said. “That is why strict quarantine is of the utmost importance.”

There were a few impressed remarks, their voices growing fainter as the group got further down the hall. Karen strained to listen.

“Do we have a treatment plan?” a woman asked.

“No. We’re guessing that she’s still at an early stage of the disease, given the symptoms we have so far in her report: violent and delusional behavior, photophobia, refusal to eat, and varying levels of blood in the sweat glands and tear ducts. Interestingly enough, she also happens to be pregnant. I ordered an amniocentesis to determine whether or not the fetus was infected, and,” Dr. Andrews added with a strange hint of delight, “it appears that she’s carrying a very healthy set of fraternal twins.”

Karen’s heart pounded and her mind raced. Her hand went to her stomach as she propped herself up against the padded wall. Fraternal twins? She strained to see if the doctor would have anything more to say, but another abrupt clicking of heels hurried down the hall as a young woman rushed to catch up with the group.

“We just received word of a similar case being treated in County, due for transfer here within the next few weeks,” the young woman began. “You’re going to love this: that patient has the same last name as our new patient.”

“What are the chances of coincidence?” Dr. Andrews said. “Track down the rest of the family, if any, and see if we can find a common vector.”

“There was a wife and son, but they’re both dead,” the young woman replied. There was a short pause, and then the woman continued, her voice about a half an octave higher, “Prepare yourselves well for this one, people.” She took another quick, dramatic break. “According to the coroner’s report, the patient, Mr. Ron Miller, killed each of his victims by carving out their hearts with a rusty Swiss Army knife.”

Karen scrambled to the door, her body aching, her eyes squinting as she tried to peer out. “Hello? Doctor? You have to get me out of here!” Karen cried, the adrenaline suddenly surging. “He’ll kill me, too! Do you hear me?”

Karen listened desperately, praying that one of the doctors might return and contemplate her plea, but she knew the group was gone with the sudden, loud slam of the heavy security door.

“Someone?” Karen screamed, although she knew her pleas were futile.

She listened to the din of cries coming from all of the other tormented lunatics padded up and tucked away all along the long, bright hallway, and she realized just how utterly alone she really was.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sleep came slowly and reluctantly. Karen drifted several times, only to startle awake, remembering where she was. She wasn’t sure exactly when she lost consciousness, but she knew that she had to be dreaming when she found herself standing in a familiar black void. Billy used to construct his dream planes out of similar spans of nothingness. A momentary burst of excitement hit her but her heart immediately dropped as she reminded herself that Billy was dead. Someone brought her here, but more likely than not it was nobody she cared to see.

As the scenery began to form around her, tangles of wild fields cropping up in all directions, Karen began to have a good idea of who was responsible. She knew of only three other people besides Billy who could dream-walk, and they were all dead.

Karen gasped as Billy – or what appeared to be Billy – emerged from a tall patch of grass.

Karen kept her distance. “I know you’re not Billy, so you can just cut the charade,” she said, just as angry as she was fearful.

“Karen, it’s really me,” he said, those hypnotic blue eyes of his staring into hers.

“You’re dead,” Karen whispered, her throat going tight.

“I was afraid of that,” Billy said with a light shrug. “I remember the sun…and then everything going dark. I started looking for you immediately, but I didn’t know where you had gone. I had just about given up.”

Billy tried to move toward her, but she held her distance.

Her eyes began to well up. “Please, whoever you are…I can’t take this! Please just go!”

“It’s me,” Billy insisted.

“How can it be you if you’re dead?” Karen asked, now crying freely.

“I’m thinking it has something to do with my dying on the Astral Plane,” Billy said, sounding unsure.

Karen shook her head, even though it did sound plausible.

“I was able to save you, though, wasn’t I? And the baby?”

She could think of nothing else to do but bury her face in her hands, suddenly knowing the truth. She didn’t even realize that she had dropped to her knees until Billy put a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look up.

“Billy?” she asked.

He extended his hand to her, helping her back to her feet. She fell immediately into his arms, holding him tightly and reveling in his returned embrace. She smelled his familiar musky scent, knowing no one would be able to mimic that intoxicating essence unique only to Billy. Still, something was wrong. “I can’t hear you in my thoughts,” Karen said, pushing away from him.

“I can’t hear you, either,” Billy said, equally disturbed.

“If we’re both really here, and you are who you say we are, then why can’t I hear you?” Karen asked.

“I don’t know,” Billy said. “Maybe because I don’t have a body anymore?”

Karen stared into his eyes for a moment, noting his sincerity. Her body slowly relaxed as he moved up to her once more, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her on the forehead.

“I’m still me,” Billy said, although Karen knew that alone wouldn’t be enough. “I’ve missed you,” he added, moving his lips to hers.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she cried, reveling in the feel of his lips moving down the curve of her chin and her neck.

They kissed passionately and Karen felt a sense of peace she had not known since entering the commune. For the moment, she felt whole.

“We can still be together,” Billy said.

Karen felt a chill rush up her spine. “You know that I can’t stay here,” she said, unable to mask her confusion.

“But I can still see you in your sleep,” Billy quickly replied, his eyes pleading, “and I’ll find a way out of here. I promise.”

“How?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” she whispered, although her uncertainty was clear.

Billy wrapped her arms around him, and then held her tight against his body. “I’m still real. I’m right here. No one’s going to come between us ever again.”

Karen moved to reply, but Billy rushed his lips back up to hers, too afraid to hear what she might say. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the moment.

“Make love to me,” he pleaded, kissing and holding her. “I need you.”

“I need you, too,” she said, abandoning herself in his embrace.

Their connection, although now changed, remained intact even beyond his physical death. They craved one another just like they craved blood, even if they couldn’t justify the phenomenon with any kind of valid reason or thought. Even back when Karen thought she hated Billy, horrified with the new life he had imposed upon her, she still couldn’t fight her desire to be with him. That desire, she found, had not waned nearly as much as she had led herself to believe.

They slowly lowered to the ground, the tall grass creating a soft blanket beneath them. Karen closed her eyes as Billy gently caressed her body. When she opened her eyes, she found herself lying naked on a plush bed in a candlelit room, with Billy close beside her. He lay on his side, fondling and admiring her. She ran her fingers over his firm body, watching him grow erect, feeling herself becoming swollen and wet with desire.

She found his eyes as he climbed on top of her. He lowered his body onto hers and suddenly nothing else mattered for the moment but the electrifying sensation of his skin on hers, their bodies together, overwhelming them both as he entered her, once again making them one.

He moved slowly and gently at first, coursing in and out of her, savoring the feel of their union. She felt herself beginning to build. She wrapped her legs around him with her body rising to meet him, driving him in harder. They moved as one, their pleasure bringing them together with growing fervor. They cried out, the excitement too much for either to contain, their time apart only intensifying their passion. They held one another close, their grips tight and their bodies seizing, desperate to hold onto one another’s feel, neither willing, quite yet, to give up the ecstasy that continued to course between them.

They both knew that they would be apart again, trapped on two different planes, when the night came and Karen slipped back into the conscious world. Just for today, however, they would pretend…just for today, all was right in the world and their love was able to transcend all barriers. Just for today, they were together, and nothing could tear them apart.

Just for today…

THE END
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