From the Darkness

From The Darkness

Lee Cushing

INITIATION Smashing down onto the hood of the car, Adrian Kincaid rolled down the other side, narrowly managing to avoid the massive claw slashing through the metal. Raising the Uzi, he fired it point blank at the orange haired creature ripping its claws from the car, watching the Rakshasa convulse and fall. That was five down, only another four to go. Straightening his bright blue jacket, he stared the torn metal in the car. "Ouch." Checking the Uzi, he realised that the clip was empty. Casually discarding the weapon, he looked round, trying to pinpoint his remaining targets. "Okay, okay. If I was a little man-eating monster, where would I be?" Kincaid removed the Bren Ten Automatic Pistol from the hidden holster clipped onto the back of his jeans, swiftly checking that he had a full clip. Glancing along the empty street, he could see the river surrounding the empty village. About to continue the hunt, he heard a scream coming from somewhere behind it. That was all he needed, the people living here were supposed to have been evacuated so he could kill these pesky monsters lurking around. But it looked like someone had made a major screw up and people were still here, he was just glad he wasn't him. Sprinting rapidly, Kincaid scrambled quickly over the fence into the garden of one of the houses, his imitation alligator boots crashing down onto the grass. Continuing running, he smashed his way through the gate and toward the back garden, almost managing to leap over the small fence. Glimpsing the mass of orange-yellow hair ahead, he raised his pistol and began firing, killing one of the demonic creatures instantly. Seeing the other three hastily disappear down the nearest manhole cover, Kincaid continued running toward the homeless people that had been attacked, realising that a couple of them were still alive. Smiling, he rapidly stepped through the mass of torn bodies, trying to ease their suffering. "How you doing? Care to get out of here?"

Noticing how terrified they were from the attack, Kincaid continued smiling. "How about we get you nice people a little snack, what do you think?" The homeless man slowly rose to his feet, his eyes staring suspiciously at their saviour. "Leave us alone." Grinning, Kincaid shook his head. "Sorry, pal, I can't do that. I have to get you and this lovely lady out of danger, okay?" He remembered the briefing before this mission, certain that there was somewhere in this little village mock up where he could find food and fresh ammo. He could swear they said it would be the old chapel near the gate. "Can we go or do you want to serve yourself up as leftovers?" Watching them hesitantly begin following him, Kincaid had to keep an eye for any sight of the remaining three Rakshasas, guessing that they might prefer to wait for the darkness to roll on in. Reaching the corner, he glanced back at the man and woman, hoping that he could protect them. Seeing the doors to the chapel, Kincaid glanced at the empty road, realising that the Rakshasas could attack from any number of dark recesses in the street. It was cool, he figured he could do with a good run. Keep himself trim for Susanna, that sort of thing. Kincaid worked out his plan in three seconds, any longer and he would be risking losing control of the situation, which would not be a good thing. He glanced back at the man and woman, "We go on the count of three, okay?" Waiting for them to nod, Kincaid grinned, enjoying the thrill of the danger. "One. Two. Three." Watching them run forward, he covered them from behind, carefully aiming his Bren Ten automatic. Seeing them reach the doors to the chapel, Kincaid was satisfied as they disappeared inside and hurried forward to join them. Entering behind them, he slammed the door shut and latched it firmly. He knew that it wouldn't keep those monsters outside, but they would make one hell of a racket if they tried getting in.

Walking past the two unfortunate people he had to protect, Kincaid checked his Bren Ten. He only had three rounds left, that wasn't too good. He knew that Rakshasa could move like lightning and with only three shots, he doubted he would manage to kill all three of them. He just hoped that he had remembered the briefing and there were extra weapons here. Checking the small room leading from the main hall, Kincaid saw the refrigerator and checked it, grinning as he saw the well stocked shelves. Returning to the doorway, he stared at the two people. "Chow time." Watching them pass him, Kincaid figured they would be safe for the time being, enough time to him to scare up some more guns. "Save me some." Glancing around the main hall, Kincaid glimpsed another door by the entrance and hurriedly opened it, glimpsing a stone staircase leading upstairs. Rushing up, he emerged into a small hallway with doors on each side. The first room was completely, but the other was a gun smuggler's dream. This was what he expected to find, a multitude of hand held automatic pistols. AK-47 rifles, G3 assault rifles, the works. He figured he could make a blooming fortune with this lot. That was if he wasn't a decent Los Angeles Police Detective. There always had to be a snag, he cursed himself for being such a decent, hardworking guy. Selecting a Bren Ten automatic pistol, Kincaid felt the weight and really hated it. Ejecting the clip, he replaced it in his own gun. That was a lot better, it felt so natural. Holstering it on the back of his jeans, he grabbed an AK-47, grinning as he figured it would really kick some demon ass. "Cool." Hurrying back to the small room, Kincaid watched the man and woman hastily tucking into some really good looking nosh. Rushing to the window, he glanced out at the empty street, noticing the sun was slowly disappearing behind the houses. He figured that was it, they would be moving soon. He glanced at

the man and woman, figuring they would really slow him down. He thought about getting them the hell out of here, but that would mean he failed in this test. He knew that if he heads through that exit, he won't get a second chance at hooking up with this Order of Rhesus. It was a no win situation. He couldn't come up with a third option. Either he stayed around to knock off those remaining monsters or he gets these people to safety, in which case he fails in the test. He grinned, there was nothing to decide. He had to get them out, it was that simple. He grinned as he looked at them, "What about we get out of here, okay?" Hurrying through the door first, Kincaid rapidly approached the exit, carefully reaching for the latch. Almost touching it, he felt the wood shatter and a massive clawed hand smash through the door. Leaping back rapidly, he let loose with the AK-47, watching the wood erupt from the gunfire. Rising to his feet, he glanced back at the man and woman. "Was that cool or what?" Swiftly pulling open the door, he glanced at the dissolving corpse of the Rakshasa, grinning. "Shall we?" Running out, Kincaid aimed the AK-47 carefully, watching for any sign of the last two Rakshasas. He really wanted them to make some move, then at least he could kill them before heading for the way out. Hearing the man and woman emerging behind him, Kincaid caught sight of moving shadows and fired rapidly, hearing the howls of what he thought were the last two. Rushing forward to confirm the kills, he stared at the melting corpses, satisfied that he had passed this test and would be accepted into the Order of Rhesus. He heard the woman scream, his instincts warning him that it was not that simple. Rushing forward, he glimpsed the man being dragged away by four Rakshasas. He reacted in under three seconds, grabbing the woman's wrist and pulling her back into the chapel. Rapidly slamming the latch into the bolt, he backed away from the door.

He didn't know what was happening, the briefing clearly stated that there would only be nine and that's how many of those things he had killed. He had to admit that they also didn't mention the possibility of innocent bystanders getting caught up in this little test and this was beginning to piss him off. Glaring at the woman, Kincaid rapidly approached her. "Okay, tell me why you're here?" Nervously, the woman stared back. "I don't understand." He halted. He couldn't question the poor woman, she was obviously in shock and to be honest, he couldn't really blame her. After all, she had just seen that poor guy getting dragged away by something from the deepest of deep nightmares. "Why don't you get some rest?" Walking back to the door, Kincaid hated himself for what he was going to do. He knew that the guy was dead, but he just had to know. He had to make sure that the guy couldn't be saved and that meant going out there. He glanced down at the AK-47, figuring that it was better to go out fighting than holed up in this dump. Looking back at the woman, Kincaid approached her again, grinning gently. "Bolt the door behind me, okay?" Not wanting to hang about just in case she tried to talk him out of this and was particular convincing, he rushed to the door and disappeared outside. Waiting until he heard her latching the door, he hoped it was enough to keep her safe. Night was rapidly falling. That made him grin again, thinking how his chances of surviving his test were rapidly going down into single digits. Following the path that he saw the man being dragged along, he hurried forward. He wasn't enjoying this anymore. At least when it was just his neck on the line, he could enjoy the danger. He knew that the other cops back in L.A. thought he was nuts, but it was mostly an act and he could live with that. So he liked the excitement that came with hunting down bad guys. That was what made this job worthwhile.

Otherwise, he might as well be a bank clerk. Noticing a trail of blood on the lawn of one of the houses, Kincaid ran up to the front door. From the trail, he figured this was where they took the guy. Something made him halt dead in his tracks. He thought about what he had seen, taking him nearly four seconds to realise that the man wasn't screaming as the Rakshasa took him. He hadn't really thought about it, but now it seemed a little on the odd side. He looked at the darkened windows. He didn't have a clue how many of those things were in there, he could be walking into an entire nest, thinking that it was probably a trap. He figured that today was as good a day as any to go out in a blaze of glory and he might as well try saving as many people as possible. Rapidly stepping inside, Kincaid tried peering through the gloom, barely able to see anything in the darkness. He figured that was just perfect, he wouldn't be able to see any of those things if they were standing on each other's toes. Approaching where he thought a door should be, he reached out with his free hand, trying to find the handle. There was nothing but the cold wall. He was blind and getting a little peckish, he figured he really should have chowed down when he had the chance. Feeling his way along the wall, he suddenly felt a bulb shaped knob within his fingers and cautiously turned it, hearing the door squeaking open. Peering through the crack in the door, Kincaid saw a large stairway leading down with light coming from an underground passage. He thought it was nice of the Rakshasa to make sure he didn't slip and break his neck on his way to becoming a snack, very considerate of them. Approaching the opening, he covered the stairs with the AK-47, noticing the flaming torches lining the walls of the passage. He wondered if these things had heard of a thing called electricity. Descending slowly, he stared ahead, focusing on the long narrow passage. He thought about his

briefing again, remembering that they told him that this Rakshasa nest had only been here for a couple of weeks. It didn't quite fit, all this looked like it had been here for ages. He couldn't help getting the irritating feeling that he had been set up. Continuing to advance, Kincaid turned the corner in the passage, glimpsing a ladder leading further down. Approaching it rapidly, he continued covering the rest of the passage with the AK-47, before scaling down into a dark room. Glancing around carefully, he saw a narrow light coming from one of the walls and hurried toward it, peering through the opening into a large chamber. There was some kind of ritual being performed and more Rakshasas than he could count, it looked like they were working themselves into a frenzy of one hell of a bloodbath. Watching a woman emerge on the other side of a large fence separating her from the Rakshasas, Kincaid couldn't believe it. It was Susanna, she was supposed to be back in L.A. working on her cartoon strip. He had to think quick, figuring she had to be some kind of prisoner, but he didn't remember seeing prisoners act like they were running the entire show. Retreating back up the stairs, Kincaid continued along the passage, eventually coming to a balcony overlooking the main chamber. He grinned, seeing the narrow walkway leading along the wall, high above the heads of those incredibly hungry looking Rakshasas. Climbing onto the ledge, Kincaid realised that the Rakshasas had seen him when they started howling. If he didn't know better, he would have thought they were cheering him on. Passing over the fence, he scrambled down a large stone statue of some horrible looking thing and hastily aimed the AK-47, nervously watching Susanna approach. He grinned, trying to stay in control of the situation. "Hi, angel. What's going on?" She remained silent. Now that he was closer, he could see the cage half hidden behind a wall,

seeing all the prisoners. He figured there were about a dozen of them, probably being kept for lunch time. He hesitated, glimpsing Susanna standing among the captives. He kept exchanging glances between the woman in charge and Susanna, figuring one of them couldn't be his real angel. Rushing to the door of the cage, Kincaid aimed the AK-47 at the lock. "Get back." Watching the captives hurry to the far side, he fired, blasting the lock apart. Rapidly returning the AK-47 to cover the double of Susanna, he glimpsed the captives emerging, grinning as they walked past him. "How you doing?" Stepping into the middle of the floor so he had a view of both versions of Susanna, Kincaid heard the Rakshasas continuing to howl, figuring they must have a hard time getting dates. He glanced back at Susanna and Susanna, "Okay, angels. Mind telling me which of you is throwing this party?" The Susanna which had been in the cage rushed forward, encircling her arm under his. "It's her. She's some kind of demon, it's using me to form a body." Raising the AK-47 at the other Susanna, Kincaid stared at her. "Care to say something for your defence?" She walked forward, "What would I say? I love you, honey." That was what Kincaid needed. He opened fire with the AK-47, watching the fake Susanna jerk as the rounds slammed against her body. Emptying the weapon, he saw that she was still standing. "Oops." Grasping his arm tighter, Susanna shouted in his ear. "Kill me." There was desperation in her voice that he really didn't like, it made him turn rapidly. "What?" Susanna watched the demon advancing toward them, "It's using me to get a body. It's stealing my life. It won't be long until it takes everything and then I die. Killing me will stop it." Pulling himself free, Kincaid lashed out with his foot, smashing his heel into the demon's face. He realised she hadn't even flinched, figuring that it had been a bad idea when she grabbed

him by the throat. He was flung rapidly against the wall, crashing down onto the marble floor. Rising clumsily to his feet, he felt like he had just gone through ten rounds with the Undertaker. Susanna rushed forward, forcing the barrel of the AK-47 against her chest. "Please do it, I'm going to die. That thing will kill hundreds of innocent people." Bloody hell, he knew she was right. He didn't have a bloody choice. He smiled gently, "Close your eyes, angel." He felt her body shake as he fired directly into her heart, the blood slowly seeping over his hand. Hearing the thing screeching, Kincaid looked up, finding it hard to focus with all these tears in his eyes. It was melting, the flesh turning to liquid and running down its torso until it was gone. Kincaid stepped forward, hearing the howling of the Rakshasas suddenly fade. Turning, he stared at the empty chamber. He was all alone, even Susanna was gone. The homeless man stepped from an adjacent passage, "You're in." Turning rapidly, Kincaid stared at him. "Come again?" Dalton McCall rapidly discarded the rags he was wearing, "I don't like repeating myself." The truth beginning to dawn on him, Kincaid glanced around, unable to believe all this was part of his test. "Let me get this straight, partner. None of that was real?" Walking past him, McCall nodded rapidly. "Yeah." Grasping his shoulder, Kincaid stopped him from walking away. "That's not cool." Smashing his foot rapidly into Kincaid's exposed chest, McCall kicked him back. "Don't touch me again." He turned, walking toward Kincaid. "The test was to see if you could overcome your greatest fear, you passed. You sacrificed someone you loved to save lives." He still wasn't about to trust McCall, not after this stunt. But he decided to revert to his usual jolly nature. "Don't tell my angel about this, I won't hear the end of it." He approached McCall, "That's it, right. I'm one of you guys." Reaching the passage he used to

enter, McCall stopped and glanced back. "You're on probation." BLOOD-PREY The hot sun hitting her cheeks, Melissa Greene's horse tore through the recently ploughed field after the hounds. Her horse leaping over a broken fence, she heard the hounds catch their prey and urged her horse forward to see the slaughter. The swiftness of the kill left her dissatisfied. The fox was ripped apart in seconds, blood and torn flesh discarded over the small stream. Her blue eyes focusing on the slaughter, she watched the hounds being recalled, leaving the mangled pieces of flesh. She glanced at the other people on horseback and shook her head with disappointment, ignoring the boys hurrying into the gulley with plastic bags to remove the evidence. "It's over." Riding to the edge, Gail Shaver focused on the boys removing the torn carcass. "Can we go?" Depressed that the hunt was too quick, Melissa looked across the field at the protesters. Watching them shove the mutilated fox parts into the bags for a couple of seconds, Melissa directed the horse back through the field, churning up the loose soil again. Eventually reaching the muddy yard outside the stables, Melissa climbed down from the horse and through a narrow path between the trees onto a concrete car park. She watched the girl leading the horse into the stables until she reached her gold Capri. Opening the trunk, she exchanged her mud covered riding boots for some clean running shoes. Slipping out of her black riding jacket, she locked the trunk and entered the pub. Reaching the polished counter, she heard glanced at the rest of the group, busily complaining about the less than satisfying afternoon. Gail handed her a glass of bitter and she had a small sip. "It could have lasted longer." Gulping down her lager, Gail managed to hide her boredom of the hunt. This was the only part that she really liked, the booze up afterwards. "Live your life, Mel." She paused, playing with the prospect of just having a day

of wicked fun. "I've got an idea. Let's blow off college tomorrow, head up to Leeds tonight and find a couple of studs." Melissa knew she had to concentrate on her college homework, "I wish, but I've got too much work to get through. It's for Mrs Blaylock; it'll be a hanging offence if it's late." Contemplating changing her plans, Gail took another gulp of her lager. She figured there was plenty they could do just by staying in together, "A girl's night in, cool." Emptying her glass, Melissa slid her hand to the back of her neck. "You don't need me to hold your hand, do you? I thought you were a big girl." Gail finished her lager and placed the glass on the counter, "Great, you stick to your books. I'll stick to having fun." Melissa said her goodbyes and left the glass as she walked out to the car park. She noticed the dark clouds overhead as she unlocked the door to her Capri and settled behind the wheel. Having spent an hour trying to come up with something to follow her name written on the top of the writing pad, Melissa yawned and leaned back on her chair, a plate of half eaten Yorkshire pudding next to her papers on the small desk. She stared at the rack of compact discs on the table near her bed, trying to figure out what the hell she was forgetting. The constant barrage of rain making the windows rattle, she approached a bookcase near the daisy patterned curtains. Searching the rows of books, she remembered returning the book she was looking for to the college library the other day. When she glanced at her watch, she realised the evening classes would have started by now and hastily grabbed a disc from the rack. Hurrying through her bedroom door, she hoped no one else had checked out the book. Rushing down into the lounge, she grabbed a thick rain coat draped over the back of a chair and wrapped it across her floral patterned sweater. Checking she had her keys, she opened the door and saw the downpour. She fastened the coat tighter and

pulled the fur lined hood over her head, the rain soaking her tight jeans as soon as she stepped out. Slamming the door shut, she tried to make out the digital figures of her watch amidst the heavy rain to make sure she still had time. She unlocked the door and slipped inside, her waterlogged jeans drenching her skin as she sat down. Removing her hood, she looked at the rain covered windscreen as she turned on the bright headlights. Taking the compact disc from the thin box, she placed it in the player and turned on the deafening music. Starting the engine, she backed out onto the country lane and began easily breaking the speed limit in her rush to retrieve the much needed book. Her car raced past the old cemetery. The windscreen obscured by the downpour, she caught a flash of a man appearing from behind a large hedge. She slammed on the brakes. The car skidding across the wet road, she screamed as she saw his body smash into the windscreen and roll limply off the hood as the car crashed into a tall oak. She sat behind the wheel for a moment, trying to decide whether to just drive away and leave him behind. She looked back, able to see that he was not moving. The rain drenched her crimson hair as she climbed out of the car, focusing on the body lying in the mud soaked ditch. Her hand covering her mouth with the horror that she had killed him, the thoughts of leaving returned to her mind. She knew that she would not be able to live with herself if she did that and began to approach him. Reaching him, she extended her arm to feel for a pulse. He trembled. She remained frozen to the spot for who knew how long, eventually gathering her nerve to try again. She lifted his hand and tried finding a pulse. The hand came to life and grasped her, steel like fingers encircling her wrist tightly. She screamed as she struggled to free herself, her hands slippery with rain. The man caught hold of her coat collar, pulling her back toward him.

Feeling his cold breath on her wet throat, Melissa screamed as she felt her flesh being brutally ripped open. She managed to push him away and made a dash for her car, her neck gushing with blood. Glancing back frantically as he rose, she saw that he appeared unhurt from the impact with her car. Her fingers fumbling to open the door, she felt him grabbing her again. Forced to face him, she saw the pointed teeth between his lips and screamed. Gail rode her motorcycle past the open wooden gate into the yard. Pushing it into the barn to keep the seat dry, she didn't give a second thought about the usually closed gate. Locking the barn door, she ignored the slight drizzle as she approached the farm house. Removing her keys from the pocket of her damp leather jacket, she unlocked the dull red front door. She stepped over several letters as she entered. Checking the time on the video, she was surprised that Melissa was getting her daily helping of 'Neighbours.' Expecting a response when she shouted upstairs, she picked up the mail and dropped it on the table near the window. The silence puzzled her; it wasn't like Melissa to miss her favourite show. Relentlessly tapping her fingers on the banister as she walked up the stairs, she arrived outside a green door with glittering letters spelling out Melissa's name. She knocked on the door with another force to wake the dead. No reply. Ignoring Melissa's golden rule about privacy, she opened the door. The bed was still neatly made, that was enough to convince her that something was wrong. She remembered Melissa joking about how she never made it until she got back from college. She found the writing pad on the desk, but it took a few moments for it to sink in that this was assignment that should have been handed in this morning. She got worried. Rushing down the stairs, she ran out to the barn and straddled her motorcycle. Starting the engine as she slipped the helmet over

her head, she roared out of the barn and past the gate onto the country lane. Parking her motorcycle in the near empty car park, Gail rushed past the sparse row of shops. Hurrying between a bakery and computer shop, she approached the police station hidden in a small yard behind the shops. Removing her helmet before she barged through the glass door, she entered the small office and made for the single window used for inquiries. She stopped to look around; it had been the first time she had been in this part of the building. She was clearly unimpressed by the plain white brick walls and single locked door confining her to this one small room. She pressed a buzzer on the wall, keeping it pressed hard until the glass partition in the small window was opened. "May I help you?" The Officer was clearly agitated by her finger still pressed against the buzzer. Having a vague recollection of him hounding her when she was a teenager, Gail began tapping her fingers on the wooden frame. "I want to report my friend is missing." Her constant beginning to get on his nerves, the Officer scratched his bearded chin. "And when did this exactly happen?" Gail began tapping harder, getting pissed that he was wasting time on pointless questions. "What has the time have to do with anything?" The Officer tried staying calm, "Please be patient. When did you last see your friend?" She leaned forward, "The hunt yesterday." The door opened behind her and a man in a damp brown coat entered. His blue eyes focused on the agitated Officer's face, "What's going on?" The Officer made no attempt to hide his contempt of the sport, "She claims that her friend has disappeared, after one of their foxhunts." His tone gave Gail the impression that he might have been one of these namby-pamby protestors against having a little fun. "Don't make me gag. That's what this is all about, isn't it?" Detective Sergeant Paul Jarvis removed his damp coat to reveal a

faded navy blue suit, "Why don't we go to my office and talk about this." He glanced at the Officer as he walked toward the interior door, "Buzz us in then." Her hand twitched involuntarily as Melissa lay on the slab, her throat caked in dried blood. Her blue eyes opened and she gulped desperately for breath. Dazed as she rolled off the stone sarcophagus onto the floor, she tried to stand. Taking in the ancient walls surrounding her, she turned and saw what she had been lying on. She began looking around, afraid of the eerie sounds of the wind rustling through the worn crypt. Standing among the dust covered tombs, she backed into something soft and sticky. She screamed as she scrambled to brush off the mass of thick cobwebs, feeling dozens of hairy little legs scurrying over her skin and hair. Disentangling herself, she swept the spiders off her clothes, shaking at the thought of any of them remaining on her. She squirmed out of her coat and tossed it onto the filthy stone floor, still shuddering from the thought of the spiders crawling under her sweater or jeans. As the spiders scurried into the cracks on the floor and walls, Melissa held the back of her neck as she turned. She saw the rusted iron door at the top of a flight of stone steps, offering the chance for run into the sunlight. Vague memories of what happened began to flash through her mind as she became confident that she was alone in the crypt. She climbed the stairs and grabbed the rusted bars. The sunlight hit her skin. Caught between a mixture of surprise and shock, she watched her skin begin to blister. Snatching her hand back, she lost her balance and stumbled. Her head smashed into a stone slab as she crashed back down the stairs. Feeling a cut on her forehead, her leg erupted with searing agony the instant she tried moving. She glanced down at her leg, feeling sick when she saw the bone emerging from just above her ankle. She attempted to avoid looking at the blood as she focused on trying

to reach the door. As she looked up, she realised that it was slowly beginning to go dark outside. She began dragging herself up the steps, screaming with agony with every movement. Looking at her goal, she felt herself feeling invigorated as the darkness fell outside. Even the fog in her mind was beginning to clear. The door creaked open above her and her hope for salvation died. The man who had attacked her was stood at the top of the steps. He hurried past her when he saw the exposed bone, his gentle French accent betraying a hint of concern. "You're hurt. Let me see." Staring at his aristocratic features and long brown hair, Melissa's leg erupted with agony as she tried dragging herself away from him. "What do you want?" He remained silent. Unable to turn away from his brown eyes, Melissa felt her ankle stiffening and her entire leg begin tingling almost with relieving pleasure. She managed to break the trance. Glancing down at her leg, she managed to move it was ease. All trace of the injury was gone. She stood up, a little unsteady at first. Then she retreated from him. As she brushed the hair out of her eyes, he saw the blisters on her hand. "I'm sorry, Melissa. I should have been here to stop this." Her hand disappeared behind her back as she moved to keep the sarcophagus between him and her. More memories returning, she touched her neck. Everything sank in when she felt the wound. "You know my name?" His voice was compassionately soothing, "I've been watching you." The fear that he was going to kill her returned with a vengeance. Melissa backed against the wall, pressing herself firmly against it. Something wet and soft nudged her ear. She turned toward the large rat returning her gaze and screamed. As she screamed again, the man flashed forward and gently lifted it from her shoulder. "You've frightened him." Still nervous about his intentions, Melissa watched him begin stroking the rat. Her

curiosity began to demand answers. "Who are you?" Placing the rat on the musty floor, the man let it safely scurry away. Glancing at her, he saw the terror in her eyes and halted. "Julian." Touching the gash on her neck, she felt stupid even considering her suspicions. "What are you?" There was sadness in his voice when he answered, "After I became a vampire, my parents pretended I did not exist. I was shunned by my family and friends who considered me to be a monster. I remained in France until my dear sister passed away, forced to hide in places like this." He glanced around the crypt, hating being forced to live in such a distasteful dump. "There was a community of us in New York at the turn of the century, they welcomed me without hesitation and taught me how to survive. They were my friends. I watched mortals torture and mutilate them because of what we had to do to survive." Despite everything he had done to her the previous night, Melissa couldn't help feeling sorry for him. "But you were killing people." Advancing toward her, Julian grabbed her shoulders. "No, we were surviving." Releasing her when he realised that he was scaring her again, he turned away. "I'll teach you how to survive." The realisation of what he was suggesting became clear. Just the idea made her sick to her stomach at the prospect, yet there was some part of her that liked it. "I can't kill anyone." Julian wondered whether he had made the right choice in selecting her to keep him company, "You're a hunter; you enjoy the chase and the kill." Melissa wiped her tears from her cheeks, trying to make herself believe that he was wrong. "You can't compare vermin to human beings." An undercurrent of anger appeared in his voice. He knew that her protests were part of an attempt to cling to a world she was no longer part of, "Foxes kill for survival. You kill for sport." It surprised her that he seemed to have such a passion for animals, "I'm just a student, I

have friends that I care about." He remembered watching his sister dying, trying to spare her all that. "Forget them." He glanced at his watch, "We must go." He held out his hand, invitingly. "Please?" As he began heading up to the door, Melissa thought about escape again. She figured she'd have a better chance outside and followed him. The cemetery was brightly lit by the nearly full moon overhead as she emerged and then she saw the gate. Julian was quite far ahead of her when she began running in the opposite direction. Reaching the gate, she saw the padlocked chain and looked back. She felt sure he was going to catch her. There was no sign of him among the mass of tombstones. Turning back to the gate, she scrambled over it, tearing her jeans on the sharps rails and gashing her legs. She fell onto the pavement and set off running along the path, determined to reach the police station. She reached a brightly lit bus stop in about a minute and checked the time table, a glance at her watch making her realise how long she was going to have to wait. Certain he was going to find her; she felt the odd drop of rain begin hitting her head. Every so often, an occasional car went past, but she was constantly on the lookout for Julian. She didn't even realise that the bus had stopped until she heard the door open. She was inside in an instant, fumbling for the money to pay the driver. Snatching the ticket, she took the nearest seat. She couldn't believe that Julian hadn't found her. As the bus began moving, she glanced at the blisters covering her hand and then remembered being bitten. There was no longer any wound when she touched her neck. She quickly made herself believe it had all been a trick. Looking out through the window as the bus crossed the iron bridge leading into town; Melissa saw the lights from the college. She had lurched forward and was standing by the doors before she knew what she was doing. She didn't understand what

was happening, but she felt she had to get off here. The bus slowed to let her off. Melissa jumped out as the doors opened, landing unsteadily on the wet pavement. She stared at the windows of the college, the bright lights seeming to invite her to enter. Passing through the doors into the lobby, she glanced at the trophies in the display case until a noise made her look toward the stairs. Her stomach felt alive with butterflies as she began moving toward the sound. Reaching the stairs, she could actually feel that there was someone up there. She climbed the stairs slowly. Mrs Blaylock was stood by the classroom talking to the caretaker. The thoughts flashing through her mind shocked her. All her time in this class and she had never thought about Mrs Blaylock like this. She didn't know what to think, she was actually having feelings for her teacher. She had never understood the attraction two women could have for one another, and then it hit her. It wasn't Mrs Blaylock that she was attracted to, it was her blood. The craving was growing stronger inside her and no matter how much she tried to fight it, she found herself liking the way it was making her feel. She summoned every vestige of her will to subdue her desire. Mrs Blaylock returned to the classroom when the caretaker began continuing with his work. Melissa wanted to stop herself, to stop these sick thoughts in her mind. She failed. The thought of the feel of hot sticky blood filling her mouth and coating her throat became all she could think about. When she reached the door to the classroom, she realised that she was smiling. She stared at Mrs Blaylock sitting behind her desk, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as she thought about the kill. Something made her think about Gail. The image of her best friend's face helped her conquer her urges. She focused more of everyone she cared about. Staggering back against the dull blue wall, she brought her lust under control and

rushed down the stairs. Hurrying out into the rain, she collapsed against a lamp post. Her face stained with the tears, she felt like she was losing herself to these sick urges. Julian stepped from behind a battered red van parked on the small college car park, the lack of blood of her lips was discouraging. He knew the answer before he asked it, "Have you killed?" Every thought she had screamed at her to run, she just had to figure out why she didn't want to. Still barely managing to control her urges, she forced herself not to think about them. "I told you, I will not kill anyone. I just want to go home." He brushed her cheek, wiping the rain from her skin. "Your instincts are growing, soon they will be part of you." The brief thought of giving in to her craving made her feel ecstatic and, despite not wanting to, she climbed into the back of the van. She still clung to the hope that she could resist everything she was feeling, watching Julian sit behind the wheel. She collapsed onto the soft cushions scattered across the metal floor, closing her eyes as the rain outside became heavier. It felt like she had only been lying there for a couple of minutes when she felt the van stop. As Julian opened the back door, she felt someone was near. Climbing out, she stared at the van parked between the trees. Whatever she was feeling was directed toward a small cottage tucked away at the end of a long driveway. Julian glanced at her, "The one that lives here, she won't be missed for a while." Her face dripping with rain, she tried to think of any rational reason not to go through with this. "We can't just break into her home and kill her." The lights went out in the house. "It's time." He paused to look back, hoping her instincts would have grown enough to stop her from trying to run away. "Stay here." The fear that she wouldn't even want to stop herself from killing sickened her as she saw him reach the door. Her hand clasped the back of her neck nervously as he removed something

from his pocket. She moved closer, recognising the key as he began unlocking the front door. "How did you get that?' When he looked back at her, she got a feeling that he was not enjoying this as much as she was trying to pretend she wasn't. "I was prepared." She forced herself to feel disgusted by his cold preparation for the murder, her wet clothes clinging to her skin as she watched him. It felt like hours, standing out there in the way. Then she heard the scream from inside. Rushing inside without a second thought, she was lost totally in her desire to satisfy her new lust. A last moment of clarity stopped her by the bedroom door. Julian was pinning a struggling woman to the bed, his head pressed against her throat. The woman's face, she had seen it before, they had been at school together. The woman's strength beginning to fade, Julian tore his teeth from the flesh and glanced at Melissa. "Feed." Sickened by her delight at the blood dripping from his lips, Melissa stared at the woman's throat with mouth watering anticipation. She made a final attempt to resist her hunger, "This isn't right." Julian climbed off the bed and approached her. At first she thought he might kill her this time, but instead he pushed her toward the bed. "It's part of you now." The blood was intoxicating. Melisa felt herself wanting to taste it, but managed to hesitate when she noticed the woman's body tremble. Placing his hands softly on Melissa's shoulders, Julian encouraged her to continue, his voice soothingly persuasive. "You can do this." She couldn't look away from the blood, traces of her humanity threatening to make her throw up. "I can't." His hands slid over her shoulders and he began caressing her softly, "Just let the hunger guide you." Her teeth were lengthening as she continued to stare at the blood. A moment later, she realised that she was kneeling on the bed, directly facing the woman's delicious neck. Her desire to fight her urges vanished. She

leaned forward and tentatively plunged her teeth into the flesh. Her mouth filling with succulent blood, Melissa gulped it down. Instinctively holding the woman as she began struggling again, she continued enjoying the taste of the blood surging past her lips, the sweet delight of it soothing her dry throat.. The woman died in silence. Melissa removed her fangs from the throat as soon as the supply of blood waned. The guilt over what she had done consumed her as her satisfied hunger allowed her to bring her urges under control. She scrambled off the bed into a corner, trembling with horror as she felt the wet blood on her lips. Her blistered hand began throbbing with a pleasant tingle, the skin healing completely. She looked at him, "I don't understand?" Hoping that this revelation might help subdue her disgust, Julian half wished that she would accept what she now was. "The blood helps us heal." Entering the bathroom, he glanced at the shower and looked back. Her sweater and torn jeans were covered in blood and would be a constant reminder of her first kill. She needed to put it behind her, "Clean yourself up and put on some fresh clothes." Melissa caught sight of the body. Wiping the blood from her lips, it disgusted her how much she had enjoyed taking a human life. "I can't do this again." Approaching the wardrobe, Julian opened it and revealed a row of dresses. He knew it would soon be dawn. "We'll talk about this in the van." Tears flowed down her cheeks as she struggled to shake her head. She closed her eyes, wishing to find some way to wake up from his nightmare. She looked up as she heard him removing an outfit from the wardrobe, trying to make herself feel angry for everything he had put her through. She couldn't, "I murdered that poor woman and now you expect me to steal her clothes." He remembered his first kill, "It'll be easier if you give in." Jarvis approached the farm house door and rang the bell. He took a

glance at the neglected field as the door opened. Turning back promptly, he smiled as he found Gail's irritated features staring back at him. "Would you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about your friend?" As he entered, she got the impression that he was hiding something. "Don't drag me along, just give me the bad news?" Taken back by her bluntness, Jarvis realised he was going to have to tell her the whole truth. "There was an incident this morning, a reported break in. There was a body." He continued, despite noting her concern for his missing friend. "But it's not your friend. Unfortunately it does raise the possibility." Gail finished the sentence for him, "That she's dead?" Jarvis tried sounding hopeful, "It's important to consider all the possibilities, just in case. It doesn't mean..." He broke off, hating this part of the job. "Can I sit down?" She began tapping her fingers on the coffee table, "Ask your questions." Melissa woke on the soft cushions and briefly managed to convince herself that she was back in her own bed, that everything had been a nightmare. Then she opened her eyes and saw the metal roof of the van. Some instinct made her sense that she was not alone. Rolling over onto her back, she saw Julian resting peacefully next to her. He wasn't moving. She felt free, the need for him seemed to have gone. Slithering to the doors, she tried not to disturb him as she did her best to open them quietly. She stepped down onto the hard concrete, the stolen red dress confining her tightly. Afraid to risk waking him by closing the doors, Melissa took in her surroundings. She was standing in the car park to the only local nightspot in town. Remaining close to the metal railing separating the car park from the river, she watched several teenage boys rush past her. Their eagerness to get inside was enough to make her desire return. Purging her mind of such thoughts, she stopped and glanced at the river. It would be so

simple just to end her torment right here. She climbed under the metal barrier and approached the water, finding herself staring at the reflection of the moon in the water. A hand touched her shoulder. Julian had woken up. He stood there between her and the car park, watching a pair of women heading toward the floating hotel at the side of the nightclub. Glancing back at Melissa, he knew from her expression that she was close to being unable to contain her desires. "Find someone, I'll get us a room. Come back here and I'll give you the key." Melissa tried making the effort to shake her head, but her urge to kill beginning to overwhelm her. She fought against it, "No." The roar of a motorcycle made her turn in the futile hope that Gail was paying one of her frequent visits to the club, but it was a man in a faded leather outfit. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared inside. Her desire took over as she began approaching the doors. She didn't want to stop herself any more. She entered the moment she reached the doors and advanced onto the balcony overlooking the dance floor, the deafening music assaulting her senses. She searched the mass of faces and focused on her prey, the man was sitting alone in a dark corner. Descending the metal stairs, she pushed her way through the mass of people. Her teeth were beginning to lengthen as she got closer to her prey. She sat next to him and smiled, unable to stop herself from staring at his delicious throat. Barely able to think about anything other than ripping open that soft juicy flesh, she raised her voice above the loud music. "Wouldn't you prefer to go somewhere a little quieter?" He man leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Rising from the chair, Melissa took his hand and pulled him through the crowd. Pausing by the stairs, she began backing up, her attention firmly focused on her prey. Reaching the platform, she leaned against the metal railing and pulled him close, Her

enjoyment of teasing him with a kiss amazed her, but her mind remained dedicated to the delight of ripping open his delicious flesh. She led him outside, letting him follow her like a lovesick puppy through an opening in the barrier. Pulling him to the edge of the river, she backed against a small bench and smiled. She was thankful when she remembered that she needed to meet Julian, the thought that she wouldn't kill this poor man after all popped into her mind. The thought was gone in an instant, she wanted to do it. "Wait in the hotel, I'll be a minute." She gave him a lingering kiss, enjoying feeling him caressing her back before pulling away. "I promise you won't regret it." She smiled at her prey heading inside the floating hotel. A faint scream made her look towards Julian's van. There was a slight moaning coming from inside when she approached. It was the perfect opportunity, she looked around for anyone to help her. The car park was empty, her chance to expose him and become free was gone. Her instincts took over and she felt herself wanting to see what was happening inside the van, her hand beginning to turn the rusted handle. The door squeaked as she opened it. Her eyes fell on Julian pinning a teenage girl against the cushions, the mouth watering sight making her realise how much she would have liked to join the feast. Julian heard her enter, finishing the last drop of blood from his victim. Seeing that she had left the door open, he rushed to close it. The brief anger on his face convinced her that he would kill her. He calmed down instantly. Removing a key from the girl's leather jacket, he handed it to Melissa. "Room sixteen." Snatching it hungrily, Melissa felt herself wanting to kill as her gaze travelled to the wonderful torn flesh. She took a final look at the dead girl and felt herself licking her lips with eager relish, the fresh blood making her urges stronger. She forced herself to look away as she opened the doors. As she

returned to the cold hard concrete, she tried blocking the delightful image of the dead girl from her mind. She began heading toward the hotel, wishing that she could make herself stop. Crossing the ramp, she entered the furnished lobby and walked past the reception desk toward her prey. It was hard stopping herself from ripping open his throat right here in public, the urge to satisfy her hunger made her hurry forward. She grabbed his hand and pushed him against the wall, something managing to help her suppress her desires. His hands caressing her body, Melissa led him to a flight of metal steps leading to the guest rooms. Pulling him up the steps, she pushed him against the metal railing. Eagerly turning as she glanced at the room key, the cool breeze hit her bare arms. Locating room sixteen, she unlocked it and turned on the light. The large double bed taking up most of the small room, she let him enter and closed the door behind him. She leaned against the hard wood, the desire to fulfil her cravings removing any inhibitions she had. She moved toward with intent and pushed him down onto the bed. Climbing over him, she teased him by gradually unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands explored the hair covering his chest as her desire became irresistible, the anticipation of the kill aroused her instincts. Melissa revealed her long teeth and ripped into his throat, the succulent taste filling her mouth. The door opened behind her. She glanced up, tearing the man's throat with a spray of blood. Her crimson lips drawing back in a bloodthirsty snarl, she saw Julian standing there. Then she realised that he was looking at the body beneath her. Her desire briefly satisfied once more, Melissa felt sick as she saw the blood splattered across the bed sheets. She rose from the bed, feeling ill by how much she had enjoyed herself. The man's hand twitched. It made her hungry for more and she returned to her feast, biting eagerly at the flesh and

gorging herself until there was nothing left. Licking the blood on the man's throat, Melissa's satisfied hunger subdued her murderous instincts. She scrambled away from the still warm body and crouched in the corner of the room, her disgust of herself reaching new heights of revulsion. Trembling, she stared at the body, wishing that she could undo it.. Julian knelt by her side, urging her to move. "We can't stay here." Her face was stained by tears and dripping blood as she looked at him, "I couldn't stop myself." The delay irritating him, Julian was afraid that she was too stubborn to release who she used to be. "It is your nature." He sensed movement outside the door. The turning of a key in the lock made her look at the door, her eyes filled with horror as the two newlyweds began to enter. Her instincts took over and she flashed forward, slamming into the woman forcefully. Proudly watching her turn the woman's throat into a mass of blood torn flesh, Julian grabbed the man from behind and broke his neck with one quick movement. Jarvis parked his Mitsubishi Shogun on the muddy lane and climbed out. Stepping through a gap in the thick hedge, he hurried across the damp grass toward the two police officers searching the trees. His shoes sank into the mud as he paused, looking into a small gulley. One of the officers glanced at him, "What's all the fuss about?" With everything that had been going on, he felt worried about what may have happened to Gail's friend. "Three more attacks, they were found this morning." He almost slipped on the wet grass as he made his way down, a gleam in the burning sunlight attracting his attention. He summoned the two officers and heard them scrambling down to join him. Helping them expose the car, he saw the blood on the smashed windscreen as he checked the licence plate for confirmation it was Melissa's. "Okay, so she hit something. It doesn't explain how the car got down here or where

she went?" Taking a walk around the partially hidden car, one of the officers nodded toward the church spire visible above the trees. "There's the old cemetery. If the lights at the church were on, she might have tried finding some help." It was a long shot with all these unanswered questions, but he figured it was worth a try. He used anything to stop himself slipping down as he scrambled back up the side of the gulley. Reaching the patch of water soaked grass, he peered through a thick hedge at the tombstones. Walking along the hedge until he emerged onto the road, he approached the cemetery gate and pushed it open. Heading between the graves, he looked for some hopeful sign to indicate Gail's friend was alive. Getting further away from the church, he paused by a large decaying crypt, the family name barely discernible in the worn stone. Resting on the crumbling stone steps, he stared at the trees surrounding the cemetery. The rows of graves made him think about the four murders, trying to make himself believe that they were not the work of some sick nutcase with a taste for the macabre. Eventually rising, he began heading back to help with the search. The creak of the rusted door swinging open made him look back. Peering into the darkness, he figured it was worth a look and began to descend the worn steps. His eyes adjusted to the gloom as he reached the stone floor. Inspecting the crypt, he tried to make out the faded names. Relieved he had found nothing, he backed against one of the tombs. Leaning against the stone, he felt something soft under his palm and turned. Melissa was laid out on the slab, not moving. Jarvis checked for a pulse, closing his eyes when he realised it was too late. "Bloody hell." Emerging from the thick wood running behind the cemetery, Julian headed along a rough path between the gravestones. He stopped just before reaching the gate, his senses warning him before he saw the police officers

emerging from the crypt. He faded into the shadows as Jarvis left the cemetery. Waiting until he had gone, Julian looked back to the crypt. There was still someone in there. Moving between the tombstones, Julian approached the crypt. Reaching the entrance, he knew that the lone officer would be easy prey. Waiting outside the small medical centre on the edge of the town's shopping centre, Jarvis paced up and down constantly. He was glancing at his watch every thirty seconds as he waited. Hearing Gail approaching on her motorcycle, he turned and stood on the steps until she reached him. He hoped to put her at ease over what she was expected to do, "That's a nice bike." She removed her helmet and brushed her hair out of her eyes, trying to convince herself that this was a mistake and her best friend's body was not in there. "Can we get this over with?" Gently taking her hand, he noticed the shock in her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's procedure." It was the first time she would have seen a dead body, apart from the ones on the telly. Mustering her courage, she followed Jarvis inside and toward an elevator. Halting by the doors, she began tapping the sleeve of her jacket until the doors slid open. She entered behind Jarvis and pressed herself firmly against the wall, watching him press the basement button. Feeling the almost claustrophobic compartment begin to descend after the doors closed, she felt scared at being around all those dead people. The elevator jerked to a halt and the doors opened, allowing her to stare along the dull passage leading to that room. She stepped out and began following him, pretending to maintain her tough exterior as he opened the door. Entering before she had second thoughts, she saw the covered bodies and felt nauseated by the sickly smell. He passed the row of corpses, checking the tags as he went. She watched him halt by an isolated metal trolley between a metal cabinet and a sink, not saying a word. Looking back at her, Jarvis

was reluctant to upset her further. "We can wait, you know. We don't have to do this now." Gail shook her head and approached the trolley, hiding her fear at the unmoving shape under the sheet. "Show me." Jarvis removed the sheet. The sight of Melissa made her turn away rapidly. She fell against a sink, tears gushing down her face as she leaned against it. She managed a faint nod. He hastily replaced the cover over Melissa's face. He hated the next part, but it was something he had to mention. "You do realise your friend's death might not be an isolated incident." Gently taking her arm, he led her toward the door. "Let's get some fresh air." Gail opened the door for herself and wiped away her tears, "I can do it myself." She hurried to the elevator, grateful to be away from that smell. Impatiently waiting it to descend, she saw the doors open and dashed inside the small compartment. Pressing the button quickly, she saw Jarvis approaching until the doors closed between them. Feeling the elevator rise, she felt it halt suddenly and saw the doors slide open. Rushing outside, she ran toward her motorcycle. She passed Julian on the steps, ignoring him in her haste to get away from the medical centre. Pushing his way inside, Julian walked past the reception desk and approached the elevator. The doors opened and he stared at Jarvis for a second, concealing his surprise as they passed. Watching Jarvis leave, he began descending the stairs next to the elevator. Reaching the basement, Julian approached the morgue and hurried through the door. His senses were telling him that Melissa was waking. He approached her body and pulled back the sheet, a slight smile appearing on his lips as she stared at her peaceful face. Opening her eyes abruptly, Melissa saw the plain white ceiling above her. She saw the other bodies as soon as she sat up, fearfully realising where she was. It was clear someone must have found her resting in the crypt, but she felt confused that

she hadn't been disturbed. "Why didn't they wake me?" Julian glanced at the other bodies, "It's a natural defence mechanism. It prevents our nature from being exposed while we sleep." Her feet shivered as she touched the cold tiles. Embarrassed as she realised she was naked, she snatched the sheet from the trolley and held it tightly against her. The embarrassment on her face amused him as he began looking for her clothes. After searching the cupboards along the walls, he decided that more extreme measures were needed and turned toward the door. "I won't be long." She watched him go, a dreadful feeling that he was going to kill crept into her mind and she found herself wishing she could have watched. The blond haired nurse emerged from the ward and headed to the elevator. Noticing the lit basement light above the doors, she pressed the button and began patiently waiting for it to reach the second floor. The doors began to open. She entered and watched the doors close as the elevator began to rise. Heading out as soon as it halted, she hurried along onto the third floor. She halted halfway along, getting the feeling that there was someone behind her. Turning rapidly, she stared along the empty hallway. Dismissing the feeling as paranoia, she entered the nurse's lounge. Passing a row of soft chairs, she approached the window and paused between two potted plants. Glancing at the woods outside, she closed the long black curtains and headed to a row of lockers. Unlocking her locker, she saw a bouquet of flowers inside. Taking a card from the bouquet, she closed the locker and collapsed in one of the chairs. The inscription made her laugh. She heard the door open and looked back to see there was no one there. Rising from the chair, she approached the door and tried the handle. Locked and the key was gone. Her first assumption was that someone was trying to play a birthday prank on her. Looking around, she saw the curtain move slightly and

moved forward. Reaching out for the curtain, she ripped it open and saw nothing. Her gullibility made her laugh as she backed against the chair. Julian ripped open her uniform as he grabbed her from behind and tore into her flesh. Julian shoved the nurse's body in the cabinet in the lounge and folded the uniform under his arm. Unlocking the door, he advanced into the empty passage and approached the open elevator. As the doors closed, he felt the elevator begin descending. Waiting for it to stop and the doors open, he hurried out toward the morgue. Staring at the corpses as he entered, his eyes prowled the empty room. Even through he couldn't immediately see her, his senses insisted that she was still here. "Melissa. You can come out." She emerged from a small storeroom behind him, still covering herself with the sheet as her voice trembled with fear. "I didn't want to hurt anyone." He tossed the nurse's uniform to her. "Put it on." Terror rose from the pit of her stomach when she saw the blood on the collar. She faced him, hoping that he would not confirm what was scaring her. "What did you do?" Julian glanced at her calmly, "You need something to wear." It was frightening how this was not bothering him. Her gaze returned to the blood, her horror rose when she realised she didn't care either. She tried to make herself care, "You murdered a nurse?" He approached her, wanting her to accept her new life. "It is no different from you slaughtering foxes. You had a craving that could only be satisfied by the death of those animals, there is no point in denying that hunger for the kill." Melissa dropped the sheet and found herself slipping into the uniform, feeling excited as the blood on the collar touched her flesh. She stared at him, continuing trying to deny her growing indifference over the deaths. "That's different." Her reluctance to continuously attempt to cling to her previous life was frustrating him, "No, foxes are inferior to humans and they are inferior to us.

They are nothing more than food." Disgusted by her own apathy over killing, Melissa frantically shook her head and focused on her parents to try to make herself care. "I can't accept that." Julian saw the fear erupt in her eyes when she heard footsteps outside. Feeling a surge of excitement go through her as she saw the door open, she felt her teeth lengthening. She reacted with instinct. Crashing into the hospital attendant, she smashed him to the floor. Not wanting to deny her desire, she savagely tore open his throat. Gulping down the blood, she felt the attendant becoming still and her pleasure fade as she looked at what she had done. She tore her teeth from his flesh and backed away, staring at the lifeless body. It scared her even more when she realised she no longer felt any remorse. Julian grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door, "We can't stay." Melissa wiped the blood from her lips and turned toward him, trying to make herself feel disgusted that she wanted more. She made her decision. She ran past him and disappeared through the door, hoping that her thoughts of family and friends were strong herself to stop her from wanting to go back to him. He followed her quickly, hoping to stop her from doing something rash. Almost reaching the elevator, he saw her fearfully crouched in the corner as the doors closed. Opening the large gate to the yard, Gail tried to make herself believe that what happened to Melissa was not bothering her. Returning to the motorcycle, she pushed it toward the barn. Passing the front door, she heard someone moving in the barn. Leaving her motorcycle, she approached the front door and unlocked it. Deciding that if this was the nut that hurt Melissa, she was certain she would make him really sorry he was ever born. Entering, she headed to a small cupboard hidden behind the television and removed the shotgun left to Melissa by her father. Checking it was loaded, she returned outside and glanced toward

the barn. Cautiously stepping across the gravel, Gail raised the shotgun as she approached the door. Opening the worn wooden door, she advanced into the darkness. She heard footsteps on the wooden platform above. Tightening her hold on the shotgun as she convinced herself it was Melissa's killer, she approached an old wooden ladder and began to climb. A rung broke under her weight and she crashed back down. Rubbing her sore butt, she caught a glimpse of someone in the shadows. She raised the shotgun and fired. Seeing the figure fall, Gail rose to her feet and returned to the ladder. Checking each rung as she began climbing up, Gail reached the platform. Stepping onto the creaking wood, she saw the figure retreat into the shadows. She raised the shotgun again, "Show yourself." The figure remained in the shadows, moving to force her closer to the edge of the platform. Flashing forward suddenly, the figure pulled the shotgun from her grasp and effortlessly pushed her over the edge. Leaping from the platform, Julian landed next to her. Kneeling over her, he gently tapped her cheek in an attempt to wake her. There was no response. Melissa pushed her way through the cemetery gate, snapping the padlocked chain with ease. The church seemed to offer her sanctuary, but was overcome by fear when she tried to approach it. Backing away, she turned toward the crypt entrance. As she approached the rusted iron door, Melissa detected a highly arousing aroma. Overcome by a strange sensation of excitement, she felt herself being pulled closer to the steps leading down. Managing to pause, she could feel someone down there. Her first thought was that Julian was waiting for her, the idea making her afraid of what he would do to her. While she struggled to wonder whether to run for it, she realised that her legs were taking her down into the gloom. Becoming more nervous the deeper she went, the aroma made her think about the joy of making another

kill. She saw the police officer lying on the stone floor, barely able to feel disgust over her disappointment that she had not killed him. Trying to make herself revolted by her feelings, she realised the smell of blood on the man's shredded throat was making her desire stronger. She didn't want to stop herself when she knelt by the body and touched the gash, feeling the dried blood on her fingers. She plunged her fingers into her mouth and licking the blood off her skin, relishing the taste. She stumbled back against a tomb as she tried to make herself feel something for the officer's death, but she could only imagine the delight of making another kill. It made her feel sick that she didn't care about who she killed any more, even thinking about her parents wasn't helping. Melissa fell against the steps, terrified by everything she wanted to do. She scrambled out into the night air and collapsed against a gravestone, feeling it begin raining again. Crying with fear, she remembered Gail. Splashing through a muddy puddle, Melissa collapsed against the broken fence as her feet sank into the thick mud. Glancing toward the farm house, she concentrated on fighting her rising hunger and stumbled over the fence. Crossing the muddy field, she staggered toward the house. Reaching the yard, she glanced at dark windows. At first, she thought Gail was out somewhere. Then she heard the barn door bang shut, becoming aware of the delightful aroma flowing from inside. She fought the urge to rush inside and made herself enter slowly, drying her eyes to clear her vision. She searched the dusty floor carefully, fearfully realising she would not want to stop herself from killing. A faint moaning drew her attention to a darkened corner. She halted when she saw Gail on the floor, her eyes falling on the blood beneath her best friend's motionless head. Falling onto her knees, Melissa dipped her fingers in the blood and desperately wanted to taste it. She stopped, knowing

there was someone else here. Julian approached her, "You have to take what you need." Melissa looked back when she heard Gail moan, her head beginning to stir. Her gaze fell on the blood again, imagining how much she would enjoy taking her friend's life. Her hunger began to take hold, but she managed to turn away. Tears were flowing down her face when she focused on Julian, "I can't hurt Gail. She's my best friend." Gail came round and opened her eyes, barely focusing on Melissa and Julian standing over. Unable to believe Melissa was alive, she felt a sharp pain aching at the back of her head when she tried to rise. Hastily feeling the wound, she felt the wet blood covering her fingers. Horrified that she wanted to kill Gail, Melissa fought her desire to rip open Gail's throat. "You have to go. You have to get as far away from me as you can, before I." She glanced at Julian, reluctant to reveal what a monster she had become. Approaching her, Gail became convinced she had fallen for a sick joke. "What is this?" The sigh of the soaked nurses' uniform made her pause, confused. Desperately resisting her desire, Melissa found herself staring at her friend's exposed throat. "Gail, please go. I don't want to hurt you." Continuing to urge her to kill, Julian remained motionless. "Give in to your desire." Her hunger raging, Melissa tried resisting wanting to satisfy her craving as she felt her teeth growing sharper. "I can't, she's my friend. We grew up together." Bewildered over what was happening, Gail angrily wanted answers. "What's going on?" Focusing on Melissa, Julian came up with a new way to try to make everything easier for her. "Make her one of us." Her desire was becoming unbearable. Melissa gingerly moved forward, horrified as she felt her mouth becoming dry with the anticipation of the kill. Staring at Melissa's smile with uncertainty, Gail felt herself becoming afraid of someone she had known for nearly all her life. "You're scaring

me." Her instincts taking over completely, Melissa parted her lips to reveal her pointed teeth. She grabbed Gail's wrist and pulled her closer. Gail screamed as she saw the fangs and managed to free herself. Dashing to the door, she found her way blocked by Julian who pushed her back. Disgusted she was enjoying terrorising her friend, Melissa pinned Gail against the ladder and brought her lips toward the soft flesh of Gail's throat. Her teeth plunging through the delicate skin, she felt the blood filling her mouth. Feeling Gail struggling, she found that the struggle was increasing her satisfaction. Suddenly managing to control herself, Melissa released Gail and collapsed. The taste of her friend's blood in her mouth made her feel sick. "I can't do this any more." Just wanting her to give in, Julian stepped over Gail's fallen body and approached Melissa. "Accept what you are." Melissa saw traces of sunlight begin appearing in the cracks of the barn walls. She glanced at the open doors, the solution to everything becoming clear. "No." The act of sacrifice confusing him, Julian watched her approach the doors. "You'll die." She stopped at the edge of the sunlight hitting the floor and turned, tears flowing down her cheeks as she looked at Gail. "I can't go on like this, I am not a killer." Refusing to let herself think, she hastily opened the door and hurried into the cool breeze. Facing the house, she felt the rain stop as she tried to ignore the pain erupting throughout her body. Screaming in agony, she watched the flesh on her hands begin to drip onto the gravel. Her legs weakened as she focused on the barn, her vision blurring as her eyes melted. Instinctively crawling back, she continued to howl in pain. Julian stood by the door, sickened by her screams. Retreating into the darkness, he refused to watch her body become a heap of melted flesh and bone. Glancing at Gail's body, he saw her moving slightly and tore open his wrist as he knelt

over her. Pressing it firmly against her lips, he felt her bite hard on his flesh and begin drinking. Death By Sunrise Peter Haven waited. He had been here for hours, listening to God praise him about his good work. Rubbing his eyes to stay awake, he figured it had to be nearly dawn by now. Time they were coming back after their night of sick pleasure. He had been killing them for a long time now, grateful that it got easier with each victory over their depraved numbers. The thought that they were onto him crept into his mind, it was sick how much they would have enjoyed themselves during the night. As he reached for the keys to start the engine, he was almost blinded by the headlights of their car. Hiding behind the seat, he heard the Mercedes' engine grow silent. Raising his head, he saw a well-dressed man approaching the loading bay door, glimpsing the first rays of the rising sun outside. The clicking shut of the Mercedes door made him look toward his target, a long white fur coat wrapped seductively around the expensive black dress she was wearing. Satisfied there was enough distance between them for him to do what was necessary, he fumbled to start the engine. The Land rover smashed into her. He saw her body flash into the windscreen and disappear over the roof. Bringing the Land rover to a screeching halt, he scrambled out toward the body. He fumbled for the Saturday night special in the pocket of his dull jacket and emptied the gun into her boyfriend's chest. As the boyfriend fell onto the cold concrete, Peter focused on the blood covering the woman's face and found it amusing that things like them could bleed. He pulled down the back of the Land rover and dragged out a large plastic sheet, using it to cover the woman before shoving her inside. He slammed the door shut and rushed behind the wheel. He had to get into the sunlight before the woman came back from whatever Hell these creatures experience

in their brief moments of death. His chest was on fire with pain as he opened his eyes. Joseph Lawford could feel the aching sting of the slugs and staggered to his feet. It pissed him off getting shot. He had never liked it ever since the first time back in 1756, remembering that moron of a farmer shooting him just because he killed the guy's wife and three daughters. He hated being subdued so easily even if it was only for a minute or two, there was more than enough time to finish him off. The Land rover smashed him back down. Forcing himself to stand again, he staggered toward the beams of sunlight falling on the floor. He halted as he saw the Land rover reach the lane leading into town. He knew he couldn't go any further and that pissed him off even further. That was it, he decided he was really going to have some fun killing this moron. Lawford emerged from the small alleyway between the shops opposite the police station, his long black coat hanging lifelessly around his towering figure as he dropped the still smouldering cigarette onto the pavement. The cold night chilled him to the bone, but he ignored it as he strolled across the road. He would have preferred getting a snack first, perhaps a nice college girl. He had always preferred them, especially ones who had just left school. They were almost on the verge of becoming mature, but still had that sweet taste of innocence. It should be easy doing what he came here for, there couldn't be that many people inside left inside at this time. He didn't care anyway, the more people inside the more fun it would be killing them. He stopped in the shadows of the car park. The smell of blood from someone youthful approaching the door was intoxicating. The latch clicked and he waited for his chance as the single officer emerged. As she hastily buttoned the thick wool coat, he grabbed her. He took his time twisting her neck until her blue eyes stared back lifelessly at him. The delightful cracking of bones always

sounded like sweet music. He felt a glimmer of regret as he let her corpse fall, wondering if her blood would have tasted as sweet as her youth suggested. His disappointment at not tasting her faded as he caught the door before it swung shut. He entered, his senses detecting the few people who were in there. It was unfortunate that there was hardly anyone to kill, but he had a definite purpose in mind. He hated to admit it, but killing was a luxury that he couldn't indulge in and it bloody sucked. He remembered the plans he'd gotten from the internet, they indicated that the offices used by the detectives were upstairs. He searched his memory for the location of the stairs. Any answers would be in there. An officer came into view as he passed the reception hall, but he continued to the bottom of the stairs. His senses confirmed that there was no one up there before he hurried up to the first floor. One of the telephones began ringing as he entered the office. The incessant noise made him fade into the shadows. He half hoped someone would come to answer it, then he would have an excuse to kill. No one did. It took about a minute for the annoying ringing to cease. He emerged as everything became silent again and glanced over the desk, looking for anything to give him a clue where Theora was being held by this psycho. Lawford began littering the floor with papers as he searched for something useful. A routine report made him linger by a desk belonging to a Detective Inspector Kate Hanson. It was a forensics report on a charred body that was found in a park. It was obvious that this poor woman had been a Strigoi acolyte like Theora and himself. The pain of feeling the sun burning away his flesh filled his imagination. He concluded this sick bastard had to be put down before any more were harmed. He could almost feel what these poor women went through. He discarded the report after reading it. It hadn't given him anything he could use to

locate Theora. Returning to the desk, he found sixteen more reports from all over Europe. That this sick bastard got his kicks by torturing Strigoi acolytes by letting the rising sun burn them to ash was obvious. He finished Detective Hanson's report on the latest murder and noticed there was no mention of any suspects. There was seven hundred years experience of killing under his belt. He knew about the groups of humans who were dedicated to killing Strigoi, but all the other demonic acolytes in this world as well. It was a distinct possibility that this Detective Hanson could be among their numbers. Dropping her report back on the desk, Lawford had to be sure of Detective Hanson's loyalties and smiled. It had been bloody ages since he had enjoyed torturing someone. The car slammed up on the curb outside the police station. Kate Hanson scrambled out and ran toward the ambulance. It was as cold as hell, but she didn't have the time to think about it. She was just getting off to sleep when she got the telephone call. At first she couldn't believe that someone murdered Sam right outside the station itself. The body was still lying stretched out on the tarmac when she pushed her past the constables. Sam's head twisted around like that made her certain it was done by some kind of demonic disciple. It made sense. Only someone who wasn't afraid of being arrested would do this here. A feeling of dread filled her when she noticed the open door. There were so many of her colleagues here, she had known most of them for three years now. She just wished she could tell them what was really happening. It was difficult knowing that they would always believe that Sam's killer would have got away with it. She remembered the oath she made to keep the existence of these monsters secret. It had been a couple of days after she got her psychology degree. She was thrust into a war against the things of nightmares. Her passion for helping people was put on

hold and a cover as a police profiler was established. Someone who could help cover up incidents caused by these things, someone who wouldn't be suspected. Reaching the door made her forget about her past. Her hand was on the handle when she heard her superior. The knowledge that she had to explain this act of brutality made her feel sick when she turned. Detective Chief Inspector Karl Callan approached her, "Where the Sam Hell do you think you're going? I need you out here." Kate tried lying, "I need some things from my desk." She hurried inside before he tried talking her out of it. The fear of facing something that could do that to Sam was almost enough to send her running back outside. As soon as she heard the door click shut, she felt colder in here than outside and shoved her hands into her pockets. The thought that someone would have been bothered to fix the central heating popped into her mind as she reached the stairs. She was glad, however, that it gave her something else to think about. She saw the papers scattering the floor as she entered the office. This was exactly what she had feared when she was placed in charge of this investigation. Her instructions were clear. She was to ensure that Peter was allowed to continue his sick quest, but she didn’t have to like the way he enjoyed killing them. The howling winds outside made her dwell on her irrational fear. She hoped she was wrong about this. She wasn't. The open files were scattered over her desk, each one relating to a different elimination of a Strigoi acolyte carried out by Peter. It was just fortunate she had avoided putting his or anyone else's name in her own report. She knew it would have been a death sentence, or worse. The door slammed shut behind her. Kate turned. She knew that it had to be the acolyte that butchered Sam like that and scrambled for the desk drawer. Lawford grabbed her wrist and smashed her against the wall with ease. He was forced to turn

away when he opened the drawer, the small crucifix making him tremble. The sight of the crucifix had confirmed that Hanson was involved with those bastards, "Are you going to tell me where Theora is now or do I have to go through the fun process of torturing the hell out of you?" She knew that he was probably going to kill her. It was the only thing that gave her the courage to make a dash for the door. His hand slammed against the door as she reached it. As he turned to face her, she thought how big his teeth looked. She knew that pleading for her life wouldn't make a difference to a creature like this. She just hoped she would be killed quickly and not become one of them. She had read all the case reports about people who had been initiated, the only thing they enjoyed was killing. She didn't want to become like that. The fear in her eyes as she cowered before him made him excited. Lawford figured she had to have guts to come up here to confront him, thinking about ripping them out and playing with them. But he had to forego any pleasure he would get from killing her, at least for the moment. Theora's return was the only thing that mattered, "Okay, Duchess. How about the name of the bastard killing my friends?" Kate knew that Peter would be dead by morning if she told this monster who he was. She refused to answer. He grasped her throat and forced her down onto her knees, enjoying the sound of her trying to gasp for air. "Time's a wasting, Duchess." The fear of being killed made her blurt out Peter's name the moment her throat was released. The door opening made her look up, an instant before Lawford's hand smashed her over the desks. She crashed down onto the tiled floor and saw Lawford's fangs ripping into Callan's throat. Then everything went dark. Kate felt the soft leather beneath her when she opened her eyes. She was stretched out on the backseat of an unfamiliar car, shivering in the cold. Her first instinct was to

check her throat, grateful there was no bite marks. The first thing she saw when she climbed out of the Mercedes was the cottage. She was getting a bad feeling she had seen the cottage somewhere before. She finally got it. Shoving her hands into the pocket of her coat made her realise her address book was gone. She stared back at the cottage, remembering the photo of Peter's home on display during her briefing. The banging of the door blowing against the frame in the gentle breeze attracted her attention. She figured he had to be inside at this time of day. She figured she didn't have a choice, she had to know if Peter was dead. The house was in silence as she approached the door. She entered, hoping he wasn't waiting to kill her. She would have felt better if she heard screams or something, at least it would give her an idea of what she was walking toward. Reaching the lounge, she froze the moment she felt the warmth from the electric heater. Peter's corpse was laid out on the carpet, a large gash on his throat. She felt sick. It was her fault this monster had come here. She was just glad he had gone and left her alive, the thought of becoming one of them sending shivers up and down her spine. Kate hesitantly approached the body and reached out to check for a pulse. The flesh was already cold to the touch. She screamed when Peter's eyes spring open. His hand grabbed her wrist as she tried to scramble back, her eyes focused on the large fangs between his lips. Peter pinned her down onto the carpet. He had never killed a human before, feeling the anticipation of tasting her blood deliciously overwhelming. He had always enjoyed watching the suffering of those he fought against, but this felt more satisfying. Running his hands over her soft neck, he really wanted to find out if she tasted as good as she felt. Lawford grabbed him from behind and catapulted him against the wall, "Time for us to eat later, first things first." This didn't make

sense, Kate couldn't figure out why he had saved her. She managed to stumble to her feet, wondering why they weren't killing her. His brown eyes were full of hatred when he looked at her, "Tell me, Duchess? Do you also hear God telling you to do these things or does killing us turn you on?" Kate couldn't even pretend to lie, hoping she wouldn't end up like Peter. "You're monsters." Lawford rapidly glanced at Peter, "Then what's my new friend here? He staked us out in the sun, just to see us burn." He turned back toward Kate, baring his long teeth as he grinned with amusement at how scared she was. "You know what it feels like to have your flesh burning on yours bones? The agony?" She managed to gather a little courage and tried staring back at him, hoping her resolve might make him reconsider killing her. "You kill people and you like it." He laughed, the memories of everyone he had killed flooded his mind. She wasn't like the usual stuck up bastards that went around killing his kind, she had spirit. It almost made up for her inexperience. He was going to kill her, but it wasn't stopping him from beginning to like her. "It beats staying in on a Saturday night watching the telly." He grabbed her chin, pulling her closer. "Want to find out how much fun it is?" Glimpsing how big his teeth were, Kate closed her eyes, ready to feel the jagged points ripping open her flesh. Instead she felt him release her, hearing him giggle with amusement. Stepping between her and Peter, Lawford glanced back to make sure he wouldn't have any more trouble. "You've got spunk, Duchess. I'll let live you help me." Whatever someone like him would want her to do terrified her and she shook her head, her voice barely more than a fearful squeak. "No." Lawford allowed Peter a clear run. He knew he couldn't do anything without being stopped, but it was fun watching the fear in Kate's eyes. "Either help me save my Theora or you can

replace her." He liked her expression of horror filling those lovely blue eyes when she thought about killing someone, "Just think of how much you'll enjoy killing everyone you care about." It wasn't hard to accept his terms. Kate knew that she would personally target her family and friends if she became like him. It frightened her how much she would enjoy every minute of it, "What do you want me to do?" The way she flinched when he tried caressing her cheek amused him, "My Theora will die at 2 pm if she isn't freed from the basement of a tavern called the White Lion. I can't reach her. Save her and I'll spare you." Still uncertain that he was actually going to let her walk out of here, Kate edged her way toward the door to the hall in the hope of reaching the safety of the sunlight. "I can go?" Lawford nodded without hesitation, amused that he had to rely on someone who would kill him the first chance she got. "Hurry." Running outside, Kate stumbled and fell. Scrambling out until she felt the sun on her face, she relaxed now she knew they couldn't follow her. Hurrying to the Mercedes, she saw that the keys were still in the ignition. She glanced back and saw Lawford standing just inside the door. She was safe until night fall. It was more than enough time to collect her car and destroy this Theora, before getting help to kill these two. Watching her drive away before turning away from the window, Lawford decided it was appropriate for Peter to die the same way he made his victims. He grabbed the collar of Peter's shirt and dragged Peter toward the open door. He shoved him outside and slammed the door shut. Walking back to the window, he watched Peter staggering around. The sight of his flesh melting was almost as fun as watching 'CATS' on stage. He casually lit a cigarette and thrust it between his pale lips. He had never liked watching what sunlight could do to his kind, but he thought it was fun watching that

psycho suffer. He just wished he could make the pain last longer as Peter fell to his knees. "Marvellous." Kate halted her car outside the pub and glanced at the faded sign flapping in the wind, certain this was where this monster had been imprisoned. She checked her watch to see how much time she had, the chill blowing through her short red hair as she opened the car door. Rushing through the thick layer of leaves covering the car park, she tried not thinking about how cold it was as she opened the trunk. She stared at the crossbow she had been able to pick up from one of the local safe houses. She was scared, this was the first time she had actually come up against anything like this. Most of her time had been spent covering things like this up from the public and her colleagues. She just hoped she could handle killing one of them. The pub was full of cobwebs as she entered. She figured nobody had used this dump for years as the wind howled through the boards covering the shattered windows. The floorboards creaked under her weight as she realised there wasn't enough light in here to protect her if that thing was free. Heading to where she thought the cellar would be, she stared at the darkness at the bottom of the stairs. She took a few moments to gather enough courage to go down, each step creaking until she felt the hard concrete at the bottom. Kate had to illuminate the dial on her watch to confirm her suspicion that this Theora should have melted by now. She saw more light coming from beyond an archway in the wall and walked toward it. It was becoming even colder. The sight of the torn cage door greeted her when she peered through the archway. Getting closer, she stared at the floor inside the cage. There was no sign of melted flesh or ash. She knew she was in trouble the instant she heard the high heels clicking on the concrete behind her. The sound of footsteps on the concrete steps of the warehouse made Lawford stop pacing.

The thought of his beloved Theora returning was delightful. He turned to the door as it opened, his triumphant smile suddenly disappearing. Kate aimed the crossbow at him as she entered and fired, the wooden bolt barely missing his head. As she struggled to reload the weapon, he grabbed her and flung her like a doll onto the carpet, the crossbow appearing in his hands. He aimed it over her, amused to kill her with her own weapon. "Don't you like my present, Baby?" The sultry voice behind him made him turn. Theora was leaning seductively against the open door frame. He looked back at Kate and realised he hadn't noticed how pale her skin was. Peering closer at her colourless lips, he made out the pointed teeth as she smiled. Guilty Maxine Clifford’s world fell apart as she heard the guilty verdict. The entire nightmare had only lasted two months. She had just been a nurse at a Manchester hospital and now she had been convicted of killing a new-born baby. She looked at the disgust on the faces of the jurors and knew they wanted to kill her for she had been accused of. Finally, her gaze fell on the hospital administrator, Joyce Harding. The cold hearted bitch was trying to hide among the mass of spectators. She even had the nerve to smile. It seemed like that was longer than five months ago, cooped up in the tiny cell like an overweight battery hen. She had been kept away from the other inmates ever since the attack which had left little of her face unscarred. There was nothing left of the cheerful person she used to be. Now her only interest was the dull blankness of the wall, her will to live gone. Maxine barely registered the unbolting of the cell door and the guard enter to escort her to the showers before the other inmates. She was grabbed and dragged along the passage, ignoring the barrage of obscenities from the other inmates still in their cells. Shoved brutally into the tiled room, she didn't care about the hatred from

the other inmates any more. She cared even less if she would be the unfortunate recipient of an accident, knowing that it would be welcome release from this hell that was her life. As she removed her shoes, she saw a loose razor blade discarded on the tiled floor. She took her time picking it up, the delightful sharp edges offering her what seemed to be her last chance of salvation from her life. Her gaze settled on her naked wrist. Alec Farmer parked his Frontera Transglobe in the car park of the small village medical centre and took his time getting out. As usual, he was thirty minutes early. Heading up the small ramp toward the entrance, he stopped when his mobile phone began ringing. He barely had time to talk with the urgency of the speaker and ran back to his car as soon as he had hung up. It only took him ten minutes to reach the courtyard of the prison. The heavy gates closed as he parked in his reserved space. He climbed out and began racing up the stone steps towards the door inside. Alec halted when he reached the walkway and saw the prison governor, Mr Franklin, standing by the open door. "What's happened?" Mr Franklin began leading him inside and along the passage, "Nothing really serious. Just one of the inmates trying to off herself." Entering the shower, Alec stopped when he saw Maxine sprawled out on the tiled floor, her blood mixing with the water from the showers. He glanced at Mr Franklin when he saw the razor blade near her outstretched hand, "You call this nothing serious?" Checking her wrists for any sign that she had tried to cut herself, he was amazed that the skin on her arms was unbroken. He looked toward the guard who had obviously found her, "Get her to the infirmary." The guard hesitated, "There's no hurry. There's no great loss if the bitch dies." Alec stopped his examination and glared up, his voice filling with anger. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Noticing the guard look toward Mr

Franklin for permission before leaving to get a stretcher, he returned to conclude his examination. A small gash on the side of her throat caught his eye and he examined it, getting the initial impression that she had been attacked again. As the guard returned with the stretcher, he stepped aside as the guard shoved and dumped Maxine on it. The treatment of the inmate angered him, but he remained silent. Helping carry the stretcher to the infirmary, he made as much effort to gently lay her on one of the beds as possible. He glanced again at the guard, "I'm sure you've got other inmates to harass." Alec felt relieved when she left his infirmary and began trying to come up with what happened. He knew full well what the prison staff would prefer him to put in his report. The suicide of someone so despised by everyone would just be an unfortunately convenient accident that could be swept under the rug. He went over her arms again, just in case he missed something. There was nothing so he decided to concentrate on the wound on her throat. After cleaning it, he realised that the wound could not have been made by any kind of blade that any other inmate would have had access to. A glance at his watch revealed that he was late for his own practice back in the village and he began rushing. After satisfying himself that Maxine was in a stable condition, he left instructions for the prison nurse to contact him if there's should be any chance. The sun was almost set when Alec returned to the prison. Parking his Frontera Transglobe in the car park, he took his time heading to the infirmary. He pushed his way through the door into the infirmary, glancing to check that Maxine was still resting comfortably. Continuing through to his small desk, he saw the prison nurse emerging from the bathroom and managed a faint smile. "Okay, Pam. Why don't you toddle off home? I can take care of everything until Tommy arrives." The nurse stopped,

"Are you sure, Doctor?" Alec took off his glasses and began cleaning them, "Go. I'm sure that husband of yours has a hot meal waiting for you." Turning back to his desk as she left, he began working on the report for Mr Franklin. He was still certain that everyone would prefer the report to state a nice simple suicide as the cause, but the wound on her throat bothered him. He switched on the prison computer and began trying to satisfy his nagging curiosity. He became oblivious to anything other than his quest for an answer. He didn't even hear the footsteps on the stone floor outside the infirmary until the door began to open. Alec glanced up from the computer suddenly. He stared at the door for a moment before glancing at his watch, "Tommy, you're nearly an hour later." Tommy entered and began apologising, "I'm sorry, Doc. I just had some personal problems to work through." Turning off the computer, Alec rose from the worn chair. "I'm not the one you should worry about. If Blood & Guts Franklin catches you running late, you'll out of here on your ass in sixty seconds flat." He stopped at the foot of Maxine's bed, "Just one patient tonight. I want you to keep a special eye on her and let me know immediately if there's any change." As Alec walked past Tommy, he felt something heavy smash into the back of his head and he fell. Everything going hazy, he was sure he made out someone else entering the room. Grabbing the newcomer's arm, Tommy stopped from reaching Maxine's bed. "You said you would hook me up with something good if I got you inside." The man halted, "So I did." Through the haze of unconsciousness threatening to engulf him, Alec saw a long blade drop down into the man's hand and he watched as the man slashed open Tommy's throat with one deft movement. As he began to lose the fight to stay awake, he saw the stranger approach Maxine's bed and lean over her. Mr Franklin and the wardens were in the infirmary

when he came round. His first instinct was to look at the empty bed where Maxine had been lying. He felt the gash on the back of his head as he staggered to his feet, "Where'd he take her?" Mr Franklin ignored his ramblings. He knew that no one could have got inside his prison without being seen and assumed Maxine had simply managed to escape. "She must have given you a bigger whollop than I thought." Alec got dizzy when he shook his head, "It was some guy. He must have taken her." A quick exchange of glances with the wardens and Mr Franklin managed an unusually comforting smile. "Why not head off home, son? We discuss this matter in the morning after you've had a goodnight's sleep." The impression that no one believed him passed through Alec's mind as he stared at all of them. Julia Connelly pushed her way through the doors at the back of the hospital and headed toward the red Honda Integra in the car park. She fumbled for the car keys in the pocket of her long coat and unlocked the door. Turning on the radio, she listened to the end of the news as she slipped on her seatbelt. Her hand paused for a moment when she heard mention of Maxine's name. She hadn't thought about that cheerfully dozy cow in months, not since she had her say at the trial. She was actually amused by the news. This escape was probably enough to cause any of the 'Free Maxine' crowd to have doubts about her innocence and that was good. At least then they could get back to the business of making money. Julia glanced at her rear-view mirror and reached up to adjust it. Satisfied it was right, she backed out of the car park and onto the street. It was only a twenty minute drive to her house and once there, she parked her car on the driveway of the small bungalow. She locked the car door and approached the front of her house. The open door made her pause. She didn't even consider that Maxine may be here waiting for her and just walked him. She grabbed

the telephone handset and began searching her house, determined to teach any burglar she found the meaning of pain. The man that had taken Maxine ripped the handset from Julia's palm and smashed her down onto the carpet. He stepped over her and smiled, "I've got an old friend of yours that wants to renew your acquaintance." The radio alarm erupted into life and woke Alec. He turned it off rapidly and glanced at Joanne, still sleeping peacefully. Glad that the alarm hadn't disturbed her after the long shift at the hospital, he showered and dressed. It wasn't until he was in his car that he heard the news on the radio, barely listening until he heard the mention of Bridge Lane Hospital. He saw the police car in the car park outside his surgery as he turned past the off- licence. The concern on his receptionist's face was clear as she watched him enter and he continued into his office. The uniformed officer seemed to have taken an interest in his medical books, while the officer in plain clothes was trying to pass the time by staring at the ceiling tiles. They both stopped doing what they were doing and focused on him. Alec closed the door behind him, "I assume this relates to Maxine Clifford." The Detective Sergeant that had been staring at the ceiling nodded, "Just trying to clear up a few details about the incident." Reaching the other side of his desk, Alec began toying with a pen. "To break it down into the simplest terms, some guy clobbered me and took her." "He took her?" The Detective Sergeant appeared less than convinced, "Out of a maximum security facility? Could you explain how that could have happened?" Getting the impression that he was suspected in helping Maxine escape, Alec stared at them. "I'm not Paul Daniels." He heard the Constable mutter something, "I beg your pardon?" The Constable shook his head, "Nothing important." Alec approached him, "If you have something to add to all this, feel free to spit it out." He hesitated

before replying to Alec's insistence, "It's just that there was this Detective Chief Inspector, Elizabeth Trent, when I was working back in Liverpool. Anyway, she went a little loony tunes. Started going about vampires and other crap." Some part of it made sense when Alec thought about what had happened and he had to know more. "What happened to her?" The Constable shrugged, "The rumour was that she spent a couple of months at a mental institute. After that, I heard she had a go at fixing up an old church." The Detective Sergeant stepped in rapidly, "That's enough, Henderson. I'm sure the good doctor here doesn't want to hear ghost stories." Remaining silent, Alec watched them leave and began to wonder whether Elizabeth Trent may have somehow been right. Joyce locked the door to her office on the second floor of the hospital and dropped the mass of keys in her pocket. When she reached the small car park, she stopped and stared at her Bentley. The windscreen looked like someone had taken a cricket bat to it and left the single word 'bitch' in red. A closer look revealed that all four tyres had been brutally slashed. The heavy footsteps on the concrete was the last straw. She was back inside the bright passage of the hospital in an instant, heading to her office to call the police. As soon as she reached the phone, she began dialling and then stopped. She knew that the police would have questions and she was not willing to give them any suitable answers. Joyce slammed the phone down. Alec parked behind the fifteenth church on his list, having spent the better part of the day hoping that the Constable's belief about Elizabeth Trent might prove real. The neighbourhood itself did not inspire his confidence that this was the one he was looking for. He had talked with at least a dozen or so inmates who had lived around here, all of then were convicted on some gang related incident. Passing the heavily boarded windows, he reached the front of the

church. The large crucifixes screwed onto each side of the door made him a little more hopeful that he had finally found the right place. The door opened easily and he stepped inside, dozens of crosses surrounding him as he ventured further inside the church. He was halfway past the rows of pews when he heard footsteps behind him. The lack of emotion in the dead voice chilled him to the bone. "Did he send you?" Alec attempted to turn, his eyes falling on a woman who looked like she had just survived a dozen rugby matches all being played at the same time. "I'm sorry?" The woman raised the metal crossbow, the perfectly aligned sight focused on his heart. "You should be if you're a vampire's pet." He remained silent for a minute, before giving up on waiting for her to lower her weapon. "I'm afraid I'm haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about." The words made her waver for a second, "You don't serve a bloodsucker?" Shaking his head, Alec wished she would stop pointing that thing at him. "I'm just looking for someone called Elizabeth Trent." The crossbow fell to the dust covered floor, "Elizabeth Trent is dead. At least I pray she is." The woman walked past him and collapsed into one of the pews, "She was my sister-in-law." Alec fell silent for a moment, "I'm sorry." Sharon Trent looked up, the grim determination returning to mask her grief. "It's history." "What happened to her?" Collecting the crossbow, Sharon dumped on a rickety old table. "She was tracking a vamp. She got unlucky." Watching her removing various weapons hidden on her outfit, Alec circled round the table to face her. "That's a trifle insensitive." She grabbed him by his shirt collar, "We hunt vampires and the life expectancy is on average about six weeks. Lizzie was good, she lasted three years." As she released him, Alec straightened his suit. "Again, I can only apologise." Sharon looked up and glared at him, "Save your pity for someone who

gives a damn. Just tell me what the crap you want and then get lost." Alec began trying to decide where to begin, "There was an inmate at the prison where I work..." Cutting him off, Sharon pushed past him. "You're on about that Maxine bitch. I heard she slaughtered eleven children in cold blood. So why should I care if some two bit bloodsucker took a shine to her." He answered without hesitation, "She was innocent." Turning back, Sharon watched him carefully to try to figure out if he was lying. "I guess she told you that." She faked a laugh, "Do you believe every killer who tells you they're innocent." Resenting the accusation, Alec began walking away. "I'm sorry I've troubled you." Sharon ran after him and caught his arm, "Hold it. Just tell me why you think she's innocent." Returning to the table, Alec glanced over the assorted weapons laid out on the surface. "I've known her for the last six months and there's one thing I'm certain of. Maxine would never hurt a fly." A horrible thought entered Sharon's mind and she knew he should know the truth, "I wouldn't put money on that." Alec picked up a small disc and jumped back, dropping it as several sharp blades appeared from the sides. He looked at Sharon, "There are some people who don't have that kind of violence in them." Sharon reset the weapon, "If she was taken by a vampire, then it means she's probably been turned. That means she would have been attacked by a bad vamp, not one of the good ones." The last words make him stare at her, "Good vampires?" She nodded, "There are good and evil among vampires just as there are among people. The majority of vampires use their powers to take the amount of blood they need to survive and leave their victims alive and without any memory. The evil vampires, however, tend to delight in causing suffering. They kill without remorse and when they turn someone, they will use their power to guarantee that their victim would do anything

to serve them. The most cruel of them actually leave their turned victims with enough free will to feel disgusted by how many times they kill." Going over what she had just told him, Alec began to think it through. "So you kill all of them?" Sliding a wooden stake in her belt, Sharon shook her head. "Of course not. If we hunted the good vampires, then we wouldn't be any better than the bastards who kill at the drop of a hat." Alec removed his glasses and began cleaning them, "That just leaves one important question, doesn't it? Do you intend to help me?" Grabbing the crossbow, Sharon checked it thoroughly. "The vamp that attacked your friend is probably Philippe Daguerre and that means you've stepped into some serious crap. He's the worst of the bunch. A one hundred percent sadistic monster. The only thing we have going for us is that he will not harm any one who is innocent." He stopped cleaning his glasses and replaced them over his nose, "Then Maxine should be safe?" "The law found her guilty and that's good enough for Daguerre." Sharon saw the look of despair forming on Alec's face, "My guess is that, if this Maxine is innocent, then Daguerre will be using his power over her to kill whoever is really responsible." The news report concerning the Bridge Lane hospital returned to his thoughts, "There was something about a nurse being killed who worked at the same hospital as Maxine." Sharon aimed the crossbow and fired a single bolt at the wall, "This hospital sounds like a good place to begin." As the last of the staff members entered her office, Joyce looked at the seven surviving people who had helped her in her private enterprises. She had paid them well to join her here tonight. She looked at the aging security guard, Oscar, who had helped oversee the transportation of the merchandise. "Will you please pass out the pistols?" Waiting until each of the seven people were armed, Joyce leaned forward, her hands resting on

her desk. "You all know that Maxine has escaped from prison and about the unfortunate accident that befell Julia. Now, Maxine knows that each of you were involved in framing her and it appears that she is coming to get even." She produced her own pistol, "As soon as that bitch shows her face in hospital, I want it blown off. We can always claim self- defence afterwards and with her record, who will care enough to say anything different?" Parking her old battered red van in the hospital car park, Sharon checked everything on the crossbow again before following Alec out on the cold hard concrete. She glanced at the rapidly setting sun, "It won't be long." Alec began walking faster to try to keep up with her, "Then what?" Sharon stopped and looked back, "If Daguerre is involved, then all Hell is going to break loose." She reached the emergency entrance and pushed her way through the doors. She hadn't got more than five yards when Oscar appeared and blocked her path. He didn't remain standing for long. She smashed into him and left him on the floor in six swift moves. She continued past him without a second thought. Alec hastily stepped over Oscar and followed her round the corner. A second later, he froze when he heard a scream coming from where they had just left the guard. Without waiting for Sharon to stop, Alec rushed back round and stopped when he saw Maxine. Her teeth was plunged deep into Oscar's neck as she saw him. Blood dripping from her lips, she allowed the corpse to fall and slowly began to walk forward. "It's good to see you, Doctor. Have you come to admire my work?" Forgetting about the wooden stake hidden beneath his jacket, Alec was unable to believe it was the small woman he had spent hours talking to every week for the last six months. "Who did that to you?" Maxine smiled, the motion distorted the slashed portion of her face. "Does it matter? I'm free and everyone who put me in that horrible place are suffering

for their sins." He shook his head, desperate to try to save her. "That's not you talking, Max. You're being controlled by the monster that turned you into this." As she got closer, he saw the yellow tint in her eyes. Her lips began to part and show the long teeth, "Philippe doesn't control me. He's given me the power to take my revenge. I can kill them all. There is no guilt, no consequences. Just the sweet taste of their blood in my mouth." His hand began to reach for the wooden stake hidden under his jacket, but Alec was still hoping to talk her out of this. "Listen to me, Max. You don't need to kill these people. We just have to find somewhere to prove your innocence." She stared at him, "I don't give a damn about being innocent. I'm killing those who put me in that place and I'm loving it." Alec tightened his grip on the stake, "What about everyone who started that campaign to have you released? What about your mother?" The last word made her freeze as a glimmer of regret passed over her yellow eyes for an instant. Then it was gone. "Those poor pathetic fools. Wasting their money on a lost cause." She licked her lips, "I prefer this way." As his hope for saving her began to fade, Alec was sprayed with blood and focused on the sharp wooden shaft protruding through her chest. He expected her to fall, but she remained standing. Maxine turned, snarling like a wild animal as she focused on Sharon. A calm voice echoed through the short passage, "That's not a very nice thing to do to a lady." Sharon trembled. That voice was etched in her memory was she turned to find herself facing Philippe Daguerre. She was dead before she even saw him move. Daguerre stepped over the body. Walking up behind Maxine, he grabbed the wooden stake and pulled it sharply from her flesh. Tossing the weapon on the floor, he began to approach Alec. "Nice night for a bit of innocent slaughter. Don't you think, Doc?" Alec didn't answer, figuring he

was going to be dead in the next thirty seconds. Glancing back at Maxine, Daguerre winked. "Why don't you run along? I'm sure there's still plenty of other people in this hospital you can play with." Watching her seem to glide away, Alec focused on Daguerre as he turned back to face him and managed a faint whimper. "Get it over with." Daguerre smiled, "Do what? Kill you? My dear Doctor, you haven't earned enough bad guy points to let me have that much fun with you. At least, not yet." His gaze travelled to the crumpled heap on the floor and Alec focused on Sharon’s cold eyes staring back at him. It was completely alien to him that anyone would act so casual about committing murder. “You killed her?” Returning to the corpse, Daguerre picked her head up by the hair and stared at her for a moment. He then let her fall back onto the cold floor, “It really breaks me up inside. Truly, I am sorry.” He glanced back at Alec, “It was quick and I imagine painless for her. As for me, I didn’t get much of a chance to enjoy her suffering. But I guess that’s my loss.” Alec ran. The silence following the screaming made Joyce tighten her finger on the pistol in her hand. She began to approach the closed door. Her eyes trailed down the frame to the handle as it began to turn. It was slow, but even the slight movement made her empty the weapon. The mass of holes in the door gave her the confidence to open it and step out. A smile appeared on her lips when she saw the splatters of blood leading along the passage. Joyce raced to reload the weapon and began following the blood. She turned the corner and stopped in her tracks. Everyone who had stayed behind to help hunt down that crazed bitch was lying on the ground. All of them had gashes in their throats. It made Joyce vomit. “Poor little rich girl.” The voice sent shivers up and down Joyce’s spine. She looked down at the gun and turned. Every shot smashed into Maxine. She

jerked like a string puppet and eventually fell. Joyce walked toward the body and stared down at it, “Stupid bitch.” Alec stopped running when he heard the gunshot. Out of desperation, he attempted to locate the sound and set off down one of the passages. He slammed through a double door and tripped, falling into the mass of bodies. Realising what he had fallen into, he scrambled away from all the blood. Turning, he saw Joyce’s legs and looked up into her cold eyes. Half of her throat had been ripped away and Maxine was standing behind her, supporting the lifeless body as she continued lapping up the blood flowing from the gash. Maxine let the body fall and she smiled, “She got what was coming to her.” The blood on her lips made Alec reach for the stake under his jacket. His fingers tightened on the shaft as he began to act. Time seemed to flash past. He barely registered the surprise on Maxine’s face as she saw the stake or the anguish as it penetrated her rib cage. As the body began to fall, Alec saw the blood on his hands. Daguerre clapped his hands in appreciation, “Bravo, Doc. I knew you had it in you.” He dropped the stake as he turned. Walking past him, Daguerre reached down and pulled the stake out of the corpse at his feet. He looked back and smiled, “By all definition of your laws, you are now a cold blooded murderer. This one act has given me the opportunity to kill you.” Alec focused on the blood dripping from the stake, “It’s what I deserve. I’ve taken a life. I don’t expect any mercy. Not from you and not from the police.” “You certainly know how to spoil a vampire’s fun.” Daguerre dropped the stake, “Killing you now would be a release. I’ll let you live for now.” He looked down at Maxine’s body, “Live with what you have done, Doc. That should keep you suffering for a good few years.” He remained silent, watching Daguerre begin to turn. Alec rushed forward and made a rapid attempt to reach the stake. Daguerre was behind

him in an instant. He grasped Alec’s shoulders and held him back, the stake just beyond the reach of Alec’s fingers. He flung Alec against the wall and picked up the stake. He pressed it firmly against Alec’s throat, smiling as a small trickle of blood oozed down the skin. “You’re as stupid as that bitch who tried hunting me.” The point dug deeper into Alec’s throat, “Close your eyes, Doctor. I’ll be generous and make it quick.” Alec closed his eyes as he heard the police sirens getting closer from outside. A moment later, he felt the stake being thrust into his hand and opened his eyes. Daguerre was standing by the window as he looked back, “I lied.” The sound of the door being smashed open distracted Alec. When he looked back at the window, Daguerre was gone. The next thing he knew was that he was surrounded by police and the bodies. He looked down at the blood covered stake in his hand and couldn’t stop himself from laughing. THE PENANGGALAN The incessant ringing of the telephone disturbing her shower, Louise Bromley hastily wrapped the towel around her body and hurried down the stairs into the hall, her blue eyes half closed wearily after such a long day. She answered the phone promptly as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her wet brown hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. "Doctor Bromley." A faint, panic-stricken voice hurried replied over the receiver, "It's Bruce over at the White Lion, there's been an incident." Half-heartedly nodding, Louise glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost after midnight. She thought about the sweet relaxation of her soft bed and forced herself to reconsider, figuring it was some routine matter that could be solved in a few minutes. "Fine, I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Dropping the phone, she staggered into the kitchen and turned on the tap. Splashing her face with cold water, she shook herself awake and cleared her hazy mind as best she could. Driving across the small

bridge over the canal running along the edge of the village, Louise headed through the long street and parked her Land rover outside the quiet country pub. The main bar was reeking of cigarette smoke as she entered, a pack of farmers were bunched together at one end of the room talking loudly. Passing them, she saw the local police constable standing by the flight of stairs leading to the guestrooms on the first floor. The look on his face made her reconsider her simple accident theory. Bruce Hawks ran his hand through his crop of blond hair. He spoke with a soothing Irish accent, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You better take a gander upstairs." The heavy smoke bringing back her overdue desire for sleep, Louise started getting impatiently. "This had better be life or death." She saw him stop halfway up the stairs. It was unnerving that he wasn't being his usual talkative self. Following him to one of the guest rooms, she watched him glance around the small hallway before opening the door. Ushering her inside, he quickly closed the door to prevent anyone from seeing inside. The first thing she saw made her sick. "Oh God." A woman barely out of her teens lay lifeless on the patchwork blanket covering the bed, her wide eyes staring frozen in terror toward the ceiling. Her clinical interest conquering her horror at the dead woman, Louise began stroking her chin with her finger. She drew a complete blank when she tried deciding if she had seen the woman around the village. "Who is she?" Pressing his bulky build against the door to prevent anyone from opening it, Bruce turned away from the body. He didn't want to look at the fear in her open eyes any longer. "Daphne said her name is..." He stopped and corrected himself, "Was Mary Lewis. She was hitch-hiking up to Cornwall to meet her boyfriend, they were going to get hitched before her baby was born." The final words hit her like a ton of bricks. Louise glanced up quickly,

hating this particular aspect of her chosen path in life. Forcing herself to remain professional about her dreadful task, she knelt by the bed to begin her examination. She adjusted the woman's blue nightdress, uncovering a patch of red blisters around the woman's throat. "Hello?" Footsteps in the passage outside made him fall silent. Bruce waited until he was sure no one was trying to listen and looked past her at the woman's body. "There's nothing twisted about this, right?" Registering the nervous panic in his voice, Louise glanced at him for an instant before continuing her examination. Fascinated by the marks, she probed the woman's throat. "My first instinct would be strangulation, but these marks. I've haven't got the foggiest what could have caused them." Deciding that there was nothing more she could do here, she moved to rise from her knees, pausing as she detected a faint aroma covering the woman's skin. "Vinegar?" Bruce found it hard hiding whatever was scaring the hell out of him. "Are you really sure?" She moved aside to let him check for himself, "It's faint, but you can just about smell it if you get close enough." He shook his head, trying to convince himself that she had to be wrong. Thinking for a minute to collect whatever thoughts were bothering him, he rubbed the back of his neck. The fear was explicit in his eyes as he finally turned back toward Louise. "I'll get Daphne to ring the clinic and arrange for someone to pick her up." Too tired to take any real notice of his unusual behaviour, she covered her mouth as she yawned, her exhaustion finally catching up to her. "Might as well. I can't do anything else." Rapidly saying goodnight to him, she descended the stairs and hurried out into the cool night air. She barely noticed the glaring moon overhead, engrossed in feeling for the keys lost in the deep pocket of her wool coat. Almost crashing into her, an aging woman distracted Louise from unlocking the door, her thin grey

hair blowing gently in the soft breeze. "I saw it." Opening the door, Louise collapsed into the welcome relief of the car seat, wanting to make the harmless woman's imaginative rantings as short as possible. "Okay, what did you see?" Her eyes widening as she described the thing she thought she had seen, Doris was unable to contain her ramblings any longer. "A flying octopus. It came out of the pub, it went toward the canal." Louise was barely able to hide her amusement, surprised that old Doris had failed to include Martians in her tale. She managed a faint smile, suppressing her desire to laugh. "That's nice, Doris. Why don't you tell all this to Doctor Daniels during your next session?" Doris remained staring at her for a moment, a clarity filling her eyes which chilled Louise to the bone. "It'll come for you. It'll be coming for all of us." She dismissed the rantings and watched Doris begin to hobble away over the bridge. Running her hands through her hair, she yawned. The dead woman made her briefly consider if there was any truth to what Doris had been raving about. Hurrying from the pub, Bruce leaned against the roof of her Land rover, afraid to look at her in case she guessed he was hiding the truth from her. "Doctor Ashbrook is sending someone over from the Oaktree, Daphne promised to keep the room locked until they get here." Louise started the ignition, remembering she wasn't going to have the Sunday lie-in that she was hoping for. "I'll let you take care of sorting out whatever else there is. I've got to really get forty winks." He realised for the first time how hard a time she was having just trying to keep her eyes open. It made him feel guilty about disturbing her, making him wonder whether he should have waited until morning for her help. "Why don't you let me give you a lift back? You look like you could nod off at any second." Rubbing her eyes, Louise didn't want to trouble him. "It's a nice offer, but I'll manage." "Just as long as you

mind yourself." The idea of keeping Louise in the dark was almost enough to make him tell her everything. Bruce took a quick glance at the pub window. The stern glare from a woman with short crimson hair made him think twice. Backing toward the pub as she began driving away, he looked back at the window. The woman had disappeared. Taking one look at the lights of Louise's Land rover passing over the bridge, he turned and headed back into the pub. Daphne Grant waited behind the counter, her arms folded in front of the tartan check jacket she was wearing as she watched him enter her pub. Her short black skirt revealed as she stepped from behind the bar, she urgently beckoned him to an isolated corner. "Did you tell her anything?" Bruce wished he didn't feel so bad at lying to Louise. "I didn't say a thing." Settling onto the bench, Daphne wondered if he was lying to her. "It's not a good idea involving an outsider in our business, it could jeopardise everything we're trying to achieve. I'm under investigation as it is, the Shadow Division are still trying to link me to a coven of witches killed in London last year." Rubbing the back of his neck, he remembered that she had only confided in him recently because of his mother's involvement with this socalled group of demon hunters. "It wasn't that long ago that I was an outsider. For six years, I thought my mother was killed by a drunk driver. Then four weeks ago, you told me it was a pack of lies, that she was killed by some kind of monster. It sounded like complete bull then and still does. If it wasn't for that poor lass, I wouldn't give you the benefit of the doubt." He stopped as he realised how loud his voice was getting, "We needed someone to make an examination of the body. Louise was the natural choice. I had to be sure you weren't off your nut like Old Doris." She began tapping her fingers incessantly. "The Penanggalan is real and very dangerous. I can't let the truth get out and start a panic.

Your mother understood what we were up against and she died for it." The nagging doubts over her incredible tale continued to bother him, "Yeah, she was torn apart by some kind of demon, according to your so called evidence. But I'll make this crystal clear. I've known Louise for the past seven years. I won't risk her life over this, not for you, not for anyone." "I only told you the truth because I needed the help of someone who knew his way around. Your only concern is to act as a guide for the specialists when they arrive, nothing more." Daphne scratched her chin, "This is too dangerous for you or Louise to become involved in." Leaning toward her, Bruce's eyes filled with anger. "You got us involved. Now, I want to be there when this thing is killed or I'll expose all of this. That's even if this creature exists." Thinking for a moment, Daphne smiled at his scepticism. "If you feel so strongly about the Penanggalan's existence, why don't we go looking for it?" Her arm languishing over the arm of the wooden bench, Louise stared at the train with all the passion of watching paint dry. She rapidly covered her boredom with a smile as she saw her sister. The pretence was made easier when her nephew wrapped his arms around his mother's leg, trying to hide from the unfamiliar stranger. She couldn't help noting how much he had grown in the time she hadn't seen them. Kneeling down to his height, she began waving to him. "Johnny's quite the big fella now." Her long blond hair shining in the midday sun, Helen laughed as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her black oversized coat. "That kinda happens in two years." That made her feel guilty. It hadn't occurred to her that it had been so long, but being running even this small country practice took up most of her time. Quickly noticing the expression forming on her big sister's face, she cut in, hoping to stop her guilt trip before it got started. "You know, it's a good job Nick had that medical

conference in Paris. Otherwise it might be another two years before I got round to coming down here." Realising that she wasn't managing to prevent her sister from feeling guilt, she changed the subject. "Any good gossip?" Helen's constant search for any juicy hint of scandal made her smile. "You know nothing ever happens down here, I don't know why you even bother asking." Grabbing her little sister's bags before she could protest, Louise began leading them toward the station car park. She halted when she heard Doris' ranting voice, continually assaulting anyone passing with her ramblings about the flying octopus. She glanced back at her sister, "Let's just try sneaking past her." Helen didn't share her sister's desire to get away without being seen. She stepped from the narrow passage leading to the platform, eager to see what all the fuss was about. "Who's that?" Hoping that Doris wouldn't see them, Louise tried herding Helen and her nephew toward her Land rover. "That's just Doris. She's always claiming to have seen little green men or something. Don't worry, she's just a little dotty." "The crazy bitch should be locked up, this time permanently." Louise wished she was facing Doris instead when she heard the unpleasantly cold voice behind her. Turning, she stared at the stern looking woman sat on a towering black horse. "Morning, Claire." Glancing between her sister and the newcomer, Helen decided to stay out of the way of whatever was between them and began stroking the horse. The feel of welts covering the animal's flesh began to get her annoyed. Claire Jefferson slithered down from the horse. Shoving Helen away from her animal, she actually smiled as Johnny began crying. The sight of Helen landing painfully on the hard concrete only further increased her delight. She flashed a look of hatred toward Doris, tightening her grip on the small whip in her hand. "She disrupted the hunt this morning. We should have ridden

straight through the dozy old cow." Helen deliberately made a feeble attempt at sounding disappointed that the poor animal survived being ripped apart for the enjoyment of others, "It's a crying shame." Claire lost it. She started poking her fingers savagely into Helen's shoulder hard, clearly enjoying tormenting her victim. "We don't want city bitches coming here and telling us how to do things." Stepping between the two women, Louise was almost daring Claire to continue the brutal harassment. "Leave my sister alone." Appearing to contemplate using the whip on Louise, Claire noticed Bruce standing in the distant car park of the pub. The stern expression on his face was enough to make her back down. She climbed back onto her animal, still glaring at Helen. "Keep your sister out of my way. Next time, she'll be sorry." Louise flinched from imagining the pain felt by the horse as Claire's whip slashed against its skin. She remained defiantly watching until the horse disappeared behind the corner shop. Only then did she allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief. She unlocked the door to her Land rover, calming down as she smiled at Helen and Johnny. Recognising the expression on her sister's face, she knew full well what her little sister was thinking. "Don't get her riled, you won't get anywhere. She's powerful in local circles." A mass of mischievous thoughts swarmed through Helen's mind, "I thought you were really getting pissed for a minute and ready to start a bloody fight?" Opening the Land rover door, Louise glanced back. "I thought mum taught you never to use language like that." An amused smile appeared on her face, "Besides, You're the one who always starts the fights, the anti-fur campaign last year." Bruce brushed the cobwebs off his police uniform as he emerged from the old barn on the deserted farm, still feeling guilty about lying to Louise. Opening the door of her red Mini, Daphne noted the exasperation covering

his face. "Anything?" He shook his head, unsure of whether to believe this creature actually existed. "Nothing." He was taking a lot on faith from someone who moved into the village a couple of weeks ago, "Why are we spending ages looking for whatever this is? Why can't we leave all of the time wasting to these so called specialists?" Daphne climbed into her car and started the engine, wishing he would shut the hell up and trust she knew what she was doing. "The specialists won't be here for a couple of days. If we find it first, it'll save a lot of time." She noticed the look of scepticism he was openly displaying, "Not to mention lives." Savouring the feel of the hot summer day hitting her immediately as she emerged through the double doors, Louise carried the tray of drinks to the plastic table facing the canal. She hid her envy of Helen's family well, smiling as she watched Johnny playing on the swings. She placed the tray carefully on the table and let herself fall into one of the plastic chairs, positioning herself so the hot sunlight enveloped her summer dress. "How's Nick getting on? Any snags with him running the casualty department?" Her elbows resting firmly on the table, Helen relaxed under the shade of the parasol. "I don't want to say anything bad him, but everyone does think you selected him just to keep it in the family." A hunting horn sounded in the distance, accompanied by joyous cheering. Helen felt sick. She remembered the news footage of how they like to chase their victims into exhaustion. "Sounds close." The sound of the horses getting unpleasantly close, Louise approached the small wall surrounding the beer garden. The fox flashed past her, followed by a mass of barking hounds. She glanced rapidly at Helen, "Get Johnny inside now." As Helen rushed toward her son, the trembling fox darted through the open gate and vanished through the doors into the pub. Grabbing him, she scrambled onto a wooden table and clutched

him tightly. A moment later, the pack swarmed into the beer garden, their barking drowning out Helen's screams of obscenities. The hounds were gone almost instantly, disappearing inside the pub as the fox's cries of terror erupted as it was ripped apart. Following the hounds, a multitude of horses came thundering into the beer garden. Led by Claire, they knocked over the tables and chairs in their craving to witness the slaughter. Helen stared at Claire venomously. "You bloody well could have hurt someone." Claire dismounted and approached Helen, her fingers tightening around the handle of the barbed horsewhip. She imagined using the whip on a different target, but restrained her desires. "I don't give a shit about you want." Glancing at Louise, she grabbed Claire's jacket in the hope of scaring her into halting her sick games. "You've gone spare." Two of the other huntsmen rushed forward and thrust Helen against a table, smashing her back against the wood. Grabbing a bottle from one of the overturned tables, Claire smashed it against the table and held the jagged glass inches from Helen's defiant face. Louise interceded hastily, standing up to Claire for what was obviously not her first time. "You and your psychotic friends aren't wanted here." It took a few moments before Claire discarded the broken bottle, "This is not your pub, ask the new owner if she minds us being here." A look of grim determination appeared on Louise's face. She had been prepared to stand by and do nothing until now, but this had been the last straw. "I won't let you get away with this, you went too far." Trying to ignore how deep it looked, Bruce peered over the edge of the narrow chasm and closed his eyes as he stepped across. He froze when he heard the slithering sound ahead of him. Convincing himself that it was probably a group of potholers exploring the cave system, he walked round a corner. Then it saw it. It was silhouetted in the

shadows, tentacles flailing wildly as it emitted a high pitched squeal as it saw him. His doubts over what Daphne had told him disappeared instantly. Stumbling against the rocky ground with shock and fear, he panicked and began scrambling back the way he had come. His boots scraping frantically against the wet rocks, he glimpsed the sunlight and desperately stumbled out of the small hole in the ground. Clawing his way into the light, he collapsed, panting against the side of Daphne's mini. His eyes wide with the fear of seeing it, he felt guilty for not believing Daphne's tale. "It's in there." Daphne opened the door to her car and removed a small pistol from the glove compartment, determinedly turning to face the small opening. "Let's finish it." "I'm not going back in there." The memory of it lingered in his mind, "No chance, that thing wasn't human." She grabbed his collar, the gun in her hand slowly beginning to point toward him. "I thought you wanted the Penanggalan dead." The terror of seeing it forced him to admit the truth. "I didn't believe it was real, I thought you were making all of it up." "Well, now you know the truth. So let's get in there and kill it." She released him, staring at this pathetic excuse of a man. He didn't move, trying to hide the quivering fear in his voice. "I saw it, remember. There's a million and one places it could hide down there, we wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell." Daphne focused on him. Unless he was prepared to accompany her, she knew that she would not be able to carry out her plan. "Fine, we'll wait for the specialists. But then, you will go back in there and show them where to find the Penanggalan." Her thick coat soaked with rain, Louise entered the pub and slithered out of the sticky plastic clinging to her wet skin. Hanging her coat on a hook near the entrance, she located Bruce sitting in an isolated corner of the pub. The size of the beer glass in his hand worried her straight

away. All the empty glasses only made her feel worse. "What's wrong?" The images of that thing flashed through his mind, the glistening blood on the long tendrils making him shudder. "Nothing." Afraid to ask what could possibly have caused the fear in his eyes, Louise bit the top of her lip with determination. She forced herself to focus on the earlier incident in the beer garden. "I want to bring a complaint against Claire. She recklessly endangered my life, Johnny's and Helen's during her sick hunt." Bruce didn't look up from his beer. "Claire has too much pull. You know that." She was flabbergasted, at least he usually tried talking her out of this but he had never so bluntly refused before. Annoyed by his apparent lack of interest, she stormed through the crowd and stopped by the door. She turned, silencing the chatter previously dominating the bar with her raised voice. "I'm sorry if you've got more pressing matters to deal with, but I'm not going to let that sick cow get away with this." She glanced at the heavy curtains hiding a pair of glass doors, "Why do you think Daphne's closed off the family room? That poor animal was torn apart, just to satisfy Claire's sick bloodlust." Her outburst made him look up. Bruce knew that Claire was a real bitch. He had also heard the rumours of what happens to people who stand up to her and lastly, he knew how much the locals were scared of her. Rushing to her side, he tried to stop her before she really made an enemy out of Claire. "Give it a rest, you don't know who's listening." Louise couldn't believe he was telling her to calm down, not after what happened. "I'm going home, and then I'm going to put an end to that sick sport for good." Doris hobbled along the bridge, fumbling for her keys in the pockets of her cumbersome coat. Removing them, she glanced around nervously, getting the sensation that something following her. She had spent her teenage years in London during the blitz and

thought that would have prepared her for anything. The uncertainty of living another day. The constant shadow of death hanging over everything. She was wrong. Hearing something slithering beneath the bridge, she peered down at the clear water shining in the moonlight with careful interest. Leaning further over the wall to get a better look, the keys slipped from her withered fingers and fell onto the embankment. Cursing under her breath, she shuffled her way down toward the canal. Her hip erupting with the pain from her arthritis, she knelt down slowly to pick up the keys. Hearing the slithering again, she gazed into the shadows and noticed the various shadows form shapes from the dark recesses of her mind. Closing her eyes, she ignored them in a rare moment of mental clarity. Moving through the darkness, she stared at every crack in the crumbling masonry with wide eyes. Reaching the other side, she looked around and found nothing. It struck quickly. A thin whip like tentacle flashed forward, encircling her ankle tightly. Falling into the canal, Doris screamed as she was dragged into the darkness. Trying desperately to hold onto one of the supports, she felt the agony burn into her leg as it tightened its grip. Losing her hold, she was engulfed by the murky water. Hearing the telephone begin incessantly ringing, Louise stepped from the shower and hastily draped a large towel around her body. The feeling of déjà vu made her remember the dead woman in the pub. As she opened the door, Helen appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Don't worry, I'll get it." Picking up the telephone, she remained silent for a moment, listening to whoever was on the other end. "Hang on." Glancing up at Louise, she placed her hand over the receiver. "It's a Doctor Ashbrook. He's says something about an inquiry you made this morning?" Doubt filled Louise's face as she descended the stairs, "It's about time. I just hope I'm wrong

about all this." She took the phone from Helen, not wanting to worry her with her suspicions about the dead woman and Bruce. "Why don't you go and check on Johnny?" The headlights from her Land rover revealed Bruce standing on the embankment as she parked on the grass near the bridge. Climbing out, she slammed the door, her long hair still wet from her interrupted shower. "Doctor Ashbrook just called. He didn't know anything about that woman dying or your request for her to be picked up. Do you mind telling me what the bloody hell is going on?" Bruce didn't want to face her, feeling guilty for following Daphne's instructions not to tell anyone. When he finally did manage to muster the courage to look at her, he saw the disappointment that she thought she couldn't trust him any more. It didn't make what he called her here for any easier. "Miss Parker made a complaint about what she thought were a lot of cats fighting. Unfortunately it was something more serious." He pointed under the bridge, realising for the first time that he was going to have to come up with something to tell his superiors as well. "It's happened again." Her eyes adjusting to the gloom under the bridge, Louise made out a large log floating on the surface of the water. Peering closer, she covered her mouth with her hand as she realised it was Doris. "My God." Doris' corpse lay submerged in the water by the embankment, her eyes staring wide in frigid fear. She knelt to examine the body. The discovery of the blisters made her glance at Bruce, once more getting the feeling that he knew more than he was telling. Bruce turned away, not wanting to see her disappointed expression. "Several people were concerned about her rantings and ravings this morning, especially Claire and her butchers." It wasn't fair. She knew that Doris went overboard with her delusions every now and again, but she was harmless. She struggled to remember

the last ramblings made by the old woman. "She was going on about seeing a flying octopus or something." Her words hit him like a bombshell. He had assumed that Doris was just another random victim, but it dawned on him that maybe it was something else. "Where did she allegedly see this thing?" He realised too late that the question would probably make her more suspicious. Louise stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. Then she couldn't help herself, she laughed. "You're can't seriously believe that, she was completely bonkers." His expression made her stop laughing as a mixture of confusion and anger entered her voice, "Do you know something more?" Bruce considered telling her everything, and then he changed his mind. He hadn't been able to have a good night's sleep since Daphne revealed the truth. Even when he had managed to catch a little kip, he was always woken by terrifying nightmares. He didn't want to burden Louise with all that, "How would I know anything?" He glanced toward the pub, wondering if Daphne was watching them. "I'll arrange for someone to pick up Doris, you don't mind being left for a couple of minutes?" Unable to contain her natural curiosity any longer, Louise looked at the covered body with inquisitive determination. Looking at him again, her suspicions grew. "I just want to know what the hell really happened." She finally decided to get everything out in the open, "And I'm beginning to think you know what that is?" It hurt him when she finally said was she was thinking. He had been hoping to avoid this, but he knew that the secret had destroyed the carefully built up trust between them. There was no going back now. Disappointed that he was still refusing to tell her what was happening, Louise guessed she was mistaken about their friendship. Handing a pint of beer to a customer, Daphne watched Bruce enter a back room. She saw the distress on his clearly distraught face as soon as he closed the

door. She turned quickly to a blond haired woman stood behind the bar, "Kaitlyn, watch things for a minute or so. I better make sure Bruce hasn't been shouting his mouth off to anyone?" Waiting until the woman nodded, Daphne headed for the back room. Bruce was stood on the other side of a pool table, staring quietly at the floor. He was sick of having his hands tied by her rules about not telling anyone. There was a trace of anger in his voice as he focused on her, "I take it you've heard about Doris." Daphne shrugged her shoulders and leaned against a table. "Kaitlyn mentioned something." Slamming his fist against the wood, he gave into the primal urge just to simply kill whatever it was. "I don't want this thing killing anyone else. Doris and that poor girl were enough. This thing is getting out of control." He noticed that he was getting no closer to convincing her, "At least let me tell Louise what is going on." "No." She approached him, not willing to let anyone get in her way. "That is totally out of the question. The only reason the Trust has survived for the past three thousand years is because knowledge of it is restricted." He rapidly became convinced that she was as cold-hearted as Claire. "You're acting like you don't bloody care people are dying. If we had warned everyone, none of this would have happened. We don't even have a clue to who this thing is?" Her feet resting on the small round coffee table, Helen closed her eyes to savour the delightful singing voice of Amber Benson in the Buffy musical she recorded months ago. Disappointed that her favourite song was coming to an end, she felt herself slowly drifting away into a pleasant sleep. The abrupt sound of breaking glass jarred her back to consciousness. Stumbling from the lounge as she rubbed her half-closed eyes, Helen thundered her way up the stairs. "Johnny, if you've broken anything, your Aunt Louise is going to skin you alive." Reaching the landing, she headed to the red door

at the far end of the short corridor. She turned the handle and pushed it open, preparing to shout at Johnny. Her hand fumbling up the wall, she found the light switch and turned it on. She saw the broken glass first and then Johnny, cowering in the corner. She pushed any thought of punishing him to the back of her mind. Rushing forward, she gathered each end of the blanket to carry the glass. Once she was satisfied, she turned toward her son. The terrified expression on his face made her look behind her. The blanket fell from her hand, spilling the glass over the carpet. The Penanggalan was looking at her, hanging loosely from the light shade. Helen screamed, slashing her bare feet on the broken glass. It was so inhuman she didn't believe it was real. The Penanggalan emitted an eerie screeching sound, savouring the prospect of a more substantial prey. Retreating along the landing, Helen left a trail of bloodied footprints from the bedroom. As it began disentangling itself from the light shade, she rushed to the stairs, some maternal instinct forcing her to lure it away from her son. It moved like lightning and launched itself through the doorway, landing on the banister with athletic precision. A single tendril flashed forward and hooked itself to Helen's ankle, the immediate stinging pain making her loose her footing. Crashing down the stairs, Helen smashed her head into a small magazine rack. Almost immediately feeling blood trickling down her face, she looked back and focused her efforts on luring it further away from Johnny. Dropping down from the banister, the Penanggalan began slithering toward her. A twisted smile formed on its lips as Helen began screaming. Contracting its tendrils beneath its head, it propelled itself forward. A mass of tendrils lashed out toward her face. She began struggling against the unbearable stinging pain erupting across her skin, trying frantically to reach the phone. Her pleading screams muffled by

the tightening tendrils, she caught hold of the telephone cord and pulled it onto the floor. Her hand was almost at the receiver when she finally stopped moving. Louise turned off the engine, still pissed about Bruce's refusal to help deal with that bitch or even answer any questions about his suspicious behaviour over the last couple of days. Her thick boots crunched against the gravel as she approached her cottage. Snatching her keys from her pocket, she abruptly unlocked the front door. She barely registered the blood. It was nearly a minute before she screamed. Helen's body lay at the bottom of the stairs, most of her face ripped away. Louise felt sick, smashing into the wall as she backed away. Her voice trembling like a terrified little girl, she fell to her knees. "Sis?" She remained silent, hoping for some miracle that Helen would answer her. Her eyes filling with the onslaught of tears, Louise began crawling toward her sister's body, needing to check for a pulse. Nothing. Sitting motionless with Helen's torn face nestled in her lap, Louise began gently stroking her sister's blood drenched hair. Her tearful gaze finally falling on the telephone, she found herself automatically picking it up and dialling Bruce's number. It was answered straight away. "You have to come." There was a trace of urgent concern in Bruce's voice when he answered. "Where are you?" Louise's voice was barely more than a whimpering squeak, "Home." Before he could talk again, an inhuman screech erupted outside. It made Louise's tearful eyes almost burst with long dormant memories of childhood monsters. Hearing the screeching over the telephone line, Bruce's began shouting desperately, the panic clear in his voice. "Get out of there. You have no idea what this thing is?" Scrambling frantically across the gravel, Bruce reached the front door and began hammering on it. The door swung open easily. The sight of Helen's body made his freeze. A creaking floorboard from the

landing made him look up the stairs and he rushed up. Looking around desperately, he saw the bloodied footprints on the carpet and followed them to the half open door at the far end. Sick to his stomach that he was going to find Louise's body, he forced himself to approach the door and slowly pushed it open. At first glance, the small bedroom appeared empty. Turning to leave, Bruce saw the thick blanket twitch. Slowly collecting his nerve, he watched the blankets move again and grabbed the nearest corner, tugging it sharply. Exposed from his hiding place, Johnny squeezed himself into the narrow space between the bunk beds and the wall. Bruce knelt by the side of the bed, trying to gently convince the boy that he had nothing to fear. "It's going to be all right." The horrifying thought that perhaps the boy had watched his mother being killed popped into his head. He smiled softly, "Will you stay right here?" The boy didn't answer. The silence didn't surprise Bruce. He figured the boy was in shock, unable to imagine what trauma the boy has suffered from seeing that thing. Carefully trying not to further frighten the boy, he gently closed the door. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to decide where to continue looking for Louise. Pacing up and down the landing, he kept glimpsing Helen's body lying at the bottom of the stairs. It kept him constantly wondering whether he was going to find Louise's lifeless corpse somewhere in her own house. A sudden noise from the kitchen made him rush down the stairs. Reaching the kitchen, he saw the back door swaying gently in the cool night breeze. Afraid of what he was going to find, he slowly left the bright light of the kitchen, half expecting to find himself staring at Louise's remains as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The relief that Louise was alive and standing motionless by an old shed hit him hard. The gratitude didn't last long. Its screeching chilled his blood. Bruce focused on the abomination slithering across the

garden toward her. Almost letting its tendrils come close enough to attack Louise, he forgot about everything and ran. Launching himself into the air, he smashed into her. Landing painfully in the thick thorn bush surrounding her garden, he held her tightly among the sharp thorns. The Penanggalan halted its advance. Trying to endure the pain of the thorns digging into his flesh, Bruce watched it disappear into the night. He hurriedly disentangled himself from the thorns with as little damage to his hands as possible, "We can't let it get away." Louise ripped the last of the thorns from her coat, the more rational side of her nature refusing to believe any of this. "It looked like Claire. That thing looked like Claire's head." She focused on the guilt enveloping his face, "What the damn is going on?" Rubbing the back of his neck, Bruce figured that there was little point in hiding anything now that she had seen that thing for herself. "It's called a Penanggalan. It's some kind of demonic Malaysian witch, or so Daphne reckons. Anyway, this thing killed a couple of sheep up at Macgregor’s place about a week ago. Daphne contacted me and told me they needed help to help keep it quiet, until it could be destroyed." He closed his eyes, thinking back to the events in the caves and placed his hands over his face. "I didn't even believe it was real, until I saw it." "Bastard." That one word hurt him more than anything else she could have said. When he tried to approach her, he watched her flinch away. "Daphne insisted that no one knew. I'm sorry, but she said it would kill everyone in the village to protect itself. It killed that woman and Doris." The sickening memory of finding Helen's body was refreshed in his mind, "That thing scares the living delights out of me, but it has to be stopped." Her Land rover skidding to a halt on the smooth tarmac of Claire's large farmhouse, Louise remained frozen behind the safety of the

steering wheel, while Bruce darted out. Satisfied that it appeared safe, he tapped against the glass of her door. "Lock the doors and stay inside, I want you safe." Her knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard with anger, she watched him disappear inside an old barn. The image of Helen's body flashed into her mind and lingered. She knew she couldn't just sit back and let him kill this thing. She had to be there to watch. She was standing on the cool hard tarmac before she even thought about what she was doing, a fearful doubt creeping into her mind that maybe she should stay inside the Land rover where she might be safe. The memory of Helen's murder squashed those doubts in an instant. Approaching the porch, Louise reached for the door handle and turned it. The door opened easily. Glancing back to shout for Bruce, she realised he hadn't come out of the barn. She stopped herself from calling out to him, afraid to raise her voice in case she alerted that thing. Hesitant about illegally entering someone else's home, Louise forced herself to step inside the luxuriously decorated hallway. She remained frozen between two archways and stared up a majestic staircase. Her heavy boots scraping against the wood tiles, she reached the top of the staircase. Setting off down the passage, she found herself gazing at a solitary door at the far end. It didn't take her long to reach the door. She stopped within reaching distance of the handle and stared at the polished wood veneer, a sense of dread filling the pit of her stomach. Focusing on the door handle, Louise had to force her hand to turn it. The door slowly creaked open to reveal darkness. Louise made it to the frame before stopping, afraid to let the darkness beyond consume her. Reaching beyond the door frame, she felt the wall for the light switch. All she could find was the smooth texture of the wallpaper. She realised that her search for the light switch had forced her into the darkness, her

eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom as she fought her desire to run back into the safe lit passage. Her confidence rose when she realised how small the room actually was. Something clamped down on her shoulder. Making a whimpering scream, she tried to make herself face whatever was behind her. Bruce caught her hand when she tried to slap him, "I told you to wait in your Land rover." Trying to hide her relief that he had found her, Louise felt sick to her stomach that she felt this much hatred toward it. "I want to see that thing dead." It made him feel better that she felt the same revulsion for this thing, "I've found what we're looking for." As he began heading back to the stairs, she ran after him. The thought of staying here alone made her run faster to keep up with him. Rushing through one of the archways in the hallway, Louise reached his side as he entered a sparklingly clean kitchen. Passing the locked back door, she glanced through the large window at the immaculate garden, the high walls fencing it in completely. Her gaze fell on the row of cupboards. It wasn't hard for her to imagine it hiding in one of them and rapidly made sure each one was firmly shut. Bruce saw her hesitate by the cellar door, staring down a flight of stone steps leading down into blackness. "Are you sure you don't want to go back to your car?" She glared at him as she walked past. Stopping at the top, Louise couldn't see the bottom. "After you." He turned on the cellar lights and led the way down. Reaching the concrete floor, he focused on the mass of occult artefacts littering the cellar. Approaching a stone altar dominating the centre of the cellar, he stared at the cabalistic symbols etched into it. His inspection ended when he opened a carved wooden box. The contents immediately made him want to throw up. Slamming it shut, he stopped Louise from trying to see what was inside. "Don't." His expression of revulsion made her stop. "What was it?" It took

him a few moments to get over what he had seen. "Blood." Reaching the altar, Louise's hands hovered over the box. Then she made the decision not to verify the contents. "Makes you wonder what sick games Claire does down here." She turned away from the altar, finally noticing the jars lining the shelves covering the walls. "I don't want to know what's in them." Louise's reservations only made him more curious. Grabbing one of the jars, Bruce unscrewed the lid before he could think twice about, twisting it off as he peered inside. The smell was unmistakable. He looked up, "It's vinegar." Looking along the shelves, Louise figured there must be a couple of hundred jars. "What on Earth would Claire want with all that much?" "Daphne reckons these Penanggalan things need vinegar to re-join its human body." He suddenly disappeared from her sight, the lights going black. Instinctively grabbing her shoulder, he focused on the light from the kitchen illuminating the stone steps. "Stay behind me." Louise backed against the altar. She watched Bruce reach the steps and signal that everything was fine. A long sharp blade ripped out through his chest. She watched him barely moving for what felt like ages, before he crashed down onto the concrete floor. She began screaming. "Do you have to make that awful sound?" Claire ripped the blade from his torn flesh, admiring the sheer simplicity of what she had done. "I've been waiting to stick it to him for the last two years, didn't think it would feel so good." Turning on the lights, she revealed her naked body. The disgust on Louise's face as she ran her tongue over the blood amused her. The delicious taste of the still hot blood made her desire need satisfying again. "You came here looking for some kind of monster." She stepped over Bruce's body, "I guess it would be a same to disappoint you." Recollections from the earlier encounter flashing through her

mind, Louise watched with a horrified fascination as Claire's throat began pulsing rapidly. Her neck split open. Louise wanted to throw up, sickened as more of Claire's internal organs slithered out from the sack of flesh spread out over the floor. Claire's head raised itself up on its entrails, a malevolent smile forming instantly on her disembodied features. Caught up in her ecstasy for more killing, she ignored Bruce staggering to his feet, surprised as she felt the dagger being snatched from her fingers. He desperately grabbed the entrails tightly with his free hand, the unbearable pain erupting across his skin. Fighting the agony to let go, he thrust the dagger savagely between Claire's shocked eyes. After brutally smashing her head into the altar, he eventually released the blood cover hair from his fingers and gave into the raging agony covering his hands. He fell against the wall, his hands wet with blood and covered in searing blisters. Louise rushed to his side. She had treated wounds like this when she worked in casualty back in Liverpool, forcing herself to hope for a more positive outcome. "I'm getting you to a hospital." Rapidly sliding her arm under his shoulder, she practically dragged him from the cellar and back outside, almost pulling him toward her Landover. Propping him against the back, she scrambled to the side door and snatched out her first aid case. The case fell onto the tarmac of the drive as soon as she heard the first shot. Bruce's body smashed violently against the back window, staining the glass with his blood. Louise stood there, shocked that Claire could still be alive after what Bruce had done to her. She watched him slide down onto the tarmac. She managed to get to his side, crying with the desperate knowledge that he was beyond her help. Burying her fingers in the large wound, she frantically fought to stop the mass of blood flowing from his chest. Hearing heeled shoes on the tarmac behind her, Louise turned and saw Daphne

half hidden by the shadows of the large house, her vision blurred by her tears. "You have to help him, someone shot him." Stepping into the light from the windows of the house, Daphne glanced at the pistol still within her fingers. "I really thought I was a better shot than that. Well, if at first you don't succeed." Trying to distract her from Bruce, Louise gently lowered his head to the tarmac. She couldn't understand any of this. "Why?" Daphne scowled with hatred, "Claire was like a daughter to me, I taught her everything about the darkness we serve." Bruce managed to heave himself up, bracing himself against her Land rover. Using the side to propel himself forward, he staggered into Daphne, deflecting her aim before he fell back down. The last thing he saw was Louise making it inside the house before the bullet from Daphne's gun ripped apart his brain. She made herself look back. Daphne was standing over the shattered remains of Bruce's body. Rushing into the kitchen, she began slamming her way through the cupboards and drawers, desperately searching for something she could use. Reaching the sink, she rapidly grabbed a large carving knife. She stared at the large blade, hating herself for feeling a little delight as she thought about using it. Daphne's heels clicked on the hall floor. Louise concealed the carving knife behind her back, her fingers clutching the handle firmly. Taking her time reaching the door, Daphne leaned lazily against the frame. "Did you really think you could skulk off like some little pest?" She began advancing, "Don't you get it? You're not the hound, you're the fox. And we all know what happens when the fox is caught." Fighting to keep her fear in the pit of her stomach, Louise just needed to lure her a little closer. "Why are you doing this?" Daphne laughed, figuring that there was no cavalry coming to save Louise at the last minute. "A special team of specialists will be arriving tomorrow. They've killed over a

hundred of my sisters. So I will be killing all of them. I think it'll be quite fun actually, but I'm afraid you won't be around to see it." Louise flashed forward. She plunged the carving knife into Daphne's ribs, twisting it as she felt the hot sticky blood soaking her hands. Collapsing against the wooden table, Daphne felt the gun falling from her fingers, her hands immediately covering the growing pattern of blood on her sweater. The large carving knife still hanging from her flesh, she managed to reach the kitchen door before falling onto the tiled floor. Louise turned away from the lifelessly staring eyes. What she had done made her feel sick. Reaching to unbolt the heavy door into the garden, the sound of splitting flesh and bone made her glance back. Daphne's head gradually snaked from her body, the entrails glistening with fresh blood. The monstrosity slowly oozing across the cold tiles toward her, she backed toward the cellar steps, too scared to even scream. A single entrail lashed out, attaching itself to her leg. Feeling it tightening its grip, Louise screamed. Smashing into a wine cabinet as she fell, her ankle erupted with fiery agony. Frantically grabbing bottles, she began hurling them at the approaching head. She saw the glass smashing against the tiled floor and lunged. Her fingers grasped a large jagged piece from one of the broken bottles, the sharp edges digging into her palm. Screaming with rage, she focused on seeing Bruce convulse as Daphne shot him. The memory gave her the strength to slash at Daphne's head. Daphne's screams encouraged her to continue her desperate assault. Louise felt the entrail release her ankle, shaking as Daphne's head leapt over her and disappeared back into the hall. Scrambling to the rest of Daphne's body, she felt for a pulse. She was sick by how glad she was when she found nothing. Her fingers gripped the handle of the carving knife and pulled it from the flesh. The headless body jerked. The shock of

it falling into her lap made her jump. Seeing it lying motionless, she couldn't face it any more and turned toward the hall. One of Daphne's entrails flashed from above and tightly encircled Louise's throat, smashing her head savagely against the stair rail. She managed to turn her head enough to see what was left of Daphne perched on the banister. The smile on Daphne's face pushed Louise to the limit. She grabbed the entrail and pulled Daphne down onto the floor, trapping the entrail tightly beneath her foot. Landing gracefully on the rest of her writhing entrails, Daphne's smile of triumph turned to horror as Louise plunged the blade into her eye. Louise stood there watching. There was only silence as the head slumped against the wall. It wasn't moving now and she felt enjoyment over killing it. The lifeless entrail fell from her shoulders as she approached the front door. She felt the heavy rain hitting her as soon as she left the porch. Bruce's body was still there, lying by the back of her Land rover. The knife fell from her fingers. The downpour brought her back to clarity and she looked at the blood on her hands, the rain washing them clean. Approaching Bruce's body, she collapsed onto her knees and cradled what was left of his head in her lap tearfully. The headlights of a car appeared in the distance. She ignored the Green Ford Sierra halting in front of her, too busy in brushing Bruce's hair from his blood-soaked face. Kaitlyn emerged quickly. Her high heeled boots crunching on the gravel as she saw Bruce's body, her eyes consumed by guilt. Seemingly ignoring Louise, the woman took a slow walk around the Land rover, hesitantly deciding how to explain the night's events. Coming up behind her, she knelt by them. "I'm sorry, things weren't meant to go this far." She looked around quickly, hating that she had to take care of business at a time like this. "I don't want to sound like a bitch, but where's Daphne?" Louise raised

her head, "She's in the house. She killed Bruce." Kaitlyn's eyes betrayed her overwhelming guilt, "This shouldn't have happened. I was watching Daphne, testing her loyalty. It's my fault that all these people died." It was too much for her, Louise just knelt there, her hands gently holding Bruce. "I don't understand?" Satisfied that Louise deserved to know everything, Kaitlyn didn't hesitate. "Last year, Daphne was suspected of being involved with a coven of witches trying to raise a legion of Incubi. After they were stopped, my superiors arranged for Daphne to be sent here and I was selected to observe her. I was hoping that she was innocent, but?" She focused on Louise, still cradling the remains of Bruce's head. "He was a good man." She remembered how Bruce had refused to say anything. It didn't matter what they were going to do to her now, she didn't care. "Just do it. Get it bloody hell over with." The words shocked Kaitlyn, "We don't believe in killing people, we leave that to those we fight." RUNAWAY Her head slamming into the kitchen cabinet, Cynthia Alderson felt the blood gushing from her nose. This time she knew he was going to kill her. Grabbing her wrist brutally, Greg Cavendish ignored her cries of pain. He hated the pathetic way she whimpered when she pissed him off. Slamming her against the kitchen door, he wanted her to shut up and give him a few moments peace. She glanced up at Greg's imposing form towering above her and then at her Mum lying propped up by the refrigerator. She really wanted to make him stop hurting her. Despite the aching pain in her head, she eased herself to her feet and tried making herself appear defiant despite the tears soaking her face. Greg turned, wondering why the little bitch couldn't learn her place. He smashed his clenched fist against her chin and slammed her down onto the tiled floor. It was time to give the bitch another lesson in who the boss was, "You don't get up 'til I

tell you." Hilary saw him kick Cynthia in the chest, the crack of her daughter's rib chilling her to the bone. She tried moving and then stopped the instant he saw her. Rushing back toward her, Greg slapped her across the face. He couldn't figure out what these bitches were trying to do, but he was sick of their constant whining. He figured this time he would have to shut them up once and for all. The slamming door distracted him. He couldn't believe the little bitch was running away, she should know by now that it only pissed him off more. Storming into the lounge, he set his mind to teaching that little bitch a lesson she wouldn't forget. Cynthia was by the front door when she saw him emerge through the kitchen door, scrambling to slip her jacket over her school uniform. Pushing his way past the furniture, Greg grasped her wrist and smashed the back of his hand against her face. She fell against a cabinet, her hand landing on the telephone handset. Her fingers grasping it firmly and she acted without thinking, smashing it across his face. Stunned that she had the nerve to strike him, he saw her dash outside. He staggered after her and emerged into the small passage of the block of flats. The little bitch was at the stairs as he focused on her, "You get back here. Now." Cynthia couldn't take the chance of looking back. She knew that if she did, she might not be able to keep running. She heard him shouting again, his rantings making her run harder. Rushing to the railing, Greg saw her disappearing along the pavement. It was good riddance to the little bitch. She had been nothing but trouble anyway. Slamming the apartment door shut, he heard Hilary talking to someone and rushed to the kitchen. He smashed her against the counter and ripped the phone from her fingers. Slamming the phone down, he saw how she was begging him not to hurt her. That was annoying him further. He still wanted to punish that little bitch for defying him, but since she

wasn't here any more. She didn't know how far she had run, but it was going dark which meant it must be nearly ten. By the time she stopped, she didn't even recognise where she was. She figured must have reached the old industrial park on the edge of town. Taking her time walking around the warehouses, she approached the canal. She still couldn't believe that she had managed to get away from him. Then she realised how tired she had become. She could figure out what she was going to do after some sleep. Heading along the row of warehouses, she checked each door and swore each time she found them locked. Almost reaching the end, she saw a solitary building on the edge of the canal. She hurried forward to get a better look. It looked like nobody had used it for years. Reaching the rotting door, Cynthia broke through it quite easily and stepped inside. The inside was worse than she imagined. The floor was covered in dust and there were cobwebs everywhere. The state of the place made her think about crashing down somewhere cleaner. There was a flight of wooden stairs half buried by rubbish in the corner. She figured she might as well look upstairs and began climbing, hearing each step creaking under her weight. Halfway up, she felt the wooden banister come off easily in her hand and she looked at the rotted wood, afraid that the stairs would collapse at any moment. The next floor appeared more promising. Crossing the concrete floor, she even noticed a mass of torn blankets in a corner. Approaching them, she figured that they were just about good enough to sleep on and arranged them into a rough bed. Cynthia stretched out on the blankets and closed her eyes. After a few minutes trying to get comfortable, she was disturbed by the door creaking open. She thought straight away that Greg had followed her to punish her for running away. It took her a few minutes to gather enough courage to approach the railing. Hiding in the

shadows just in case, she saw a man and woman apparently kissing. She relaxed, through it was a little icky, a couple getting ready to do it in a dump like this. She couldn't tear herself away from the show. Some of the details becoming blocked by the rubbish covering the floor, she moved to a better vantage. That was when she noticed the man's head was pressed firmly against the woman's neck. Then she saw that the woman's arm hanging limply by her side. Cynthia had no idea how she managed to avoid screaming as the woman fell onto the floor. The man suddenly looked up. He was looking directly at her. Then he began walking toward the stairs. Each creak of the stairs terrified more until there was only silence. The next thing she heard was the broken door creaking open. She looked down once more, relieved as he disappeared outside. She waited until she was certain he wasn't coming back. Eventually she moved from her hiding place and cautiously descended the stairs The woman's body was not far from the base of the stairs. The fear of what she was going to see held her back until she gathered her nerve. Getting closer to the body, she made out the blood streaming from the two wounds on the flesh. It really made her want to throw up. Backing away, she couldn't believe what she had seen. Vampires didn't exist. She felt something behind her. Her neck was aching when she woke up. She took in her new surroundings quickly. It was like the place someone like Robbie Williams might live, figuring it cost a bomb. Her bare feet touched the soft carpet as she slithered off the bed. She remembered everything as she approached the bedroom door, it made her want to get out before he came back. She heard a discreet cough behind her. The gentleness of his voice surprised her, "I'm curious about how you received those bruises?" It didn't take her look to face him, given that he couldn't do anything that Greg hadn't already done. The

first thing she thought when she saw him was that he could be a Brad Pitt look-alike. She barely managed a squeak when she spoke, "Who are you?" He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "Patrick." From the bruises on her face, he assumed she had been through enough without him trying to scare her further. "Would you mind answering my question?" The first thing Greg did when he moved in with her Mum was beat it into her what would happen if she told anyone, "I fell." Patrick knew that she had seen him feed and therefore should know what he was. It puzzled him what could possibly be more terrifying than someone like him. He silently watched her dash for the door. Rushing out into an elegant lounge, she saw him waiting by the front door. She couldn't believe he moved so fast, unable to accept everything she was thinking about him. She was so scared that he didn't want to frighten her further, "If I had wanted to kill you, we would not be talking. Now, please explain how you got those bruises?" Lying about what Greg had been doing had become second nature to her. Her lip quivered as she defiantly stared at him, "I told you, I fell down the stairs." Her lie was transparent. He knew that whatever she was hiding was worse than anything else she could imagine. It made him realise that more drastic measures needed to be implemented. He stared deeply into her eyes, making her more comfortable with telling what had really happened to her. "Tell me the truth." The gentle voice helped her to relax. Everything became easier, the truth spilling from her lips. "Greg beat me and my mother, he even raped me once. I ran away." It took her a moment to realise how much she had confessed. She hadn't even told her mother about being raped, remembering how ashamed he made her feel. She remembered him constantly saying it was her own fault. She was almost in tears again. The revelation had clearly shocked whoever he was

and she felt more ashamed than ever. Backing against the bedroom door, she felt a glimmer of hope at the few memories from the old warehouse. "What the bloody hell did you do to me?" Remaining where he was standing, Patrick wondered if he was right about her working out what he was. He considered that she hadn't seen as much as he thought, which meant the truth might frighten her further. He had to take the risk, "I'm a vampire. It gives me certain advantages." The image of the dead woman flashed into her mind and she forced herself to decide that it was a hoax. She made herself laugh, "There are no such things." Patrick closed his eyes, bringing out his vampire characteristics. His eyes glowing crimson as he opened them, he parted his lips, letting her see his pointed fangs. "I am immortal. I must feast on the blood of mortals in order to survive." The transformation of his face scared her less than he though it would. He expected her to start screaming, but there was nothing. Backing away, Cynthia figured he was going to kill her. It would be over quickly, she guessed that it would be nothing as painful as what Greg used to do. She found it almost a relief to be free from the constant fear. His face returned to normal. It wasn't hard to guess what she was expecting him to do, her acceptance was just making it harder. He decided it would be easier to end whatever misery she was feeling while she slept, "I only kill when I need to feed, it only happens every three or four months. You're quite safe, I won't hurt you." Her fear had stopped her from seeing this before, but he had power. Maybe it was enough for her to help her Mum. She looked at him, the hope of ending this nightmare filling her eyes. "You could kill Greg, couldn't you? My Mum could be free." Turning away rapidly, Patrick had never killed for anything other than his own survival. It was the one part of his life that he still hated, "No." She grabbed his arm. It was so clear

to her, she had could stop Greg. He had to help her, he just had to. "You're a killer. You need to kill to live." His expression told her that he wasn't going to help. It didn't take her long to work out an alternative, "You could make me like you. I could do it." Everything she had been through was right there in her eyes, but she still didn't have a clue what she was asking. He had to make her change her mind. "You are don't know the price, you will have to isolate yourself. You will be shunned by your friends and your family. You will be a monster." Nothing he was saying mattered to her, "I don't bloody care. I want that bastard dead, before he kills my Mum." Her tears made him think about what she was asking. He just had to make her understand what she would become, "I will do what you want, provided you accept what you will become." Cynthia didn't give a damn about any conditions. She just wanted the power to get rid of Greg. "Anything. I just want him dead." Patrick led her back to the bedroom and removed a painting, allowing her to look into the lounge through a two-way mirror. It felt painful to do it this way, but he hoped this would convince her that her current life would end the moment he granted her request. "Stay here, I want you to see what you will become. I'll be back soon." He paused by the door to give her one last chance to reconsider, "This won't be pleasant. You can change your mind." She shook her head. She wasn't going to lose her chance of helping her Mum, not now. The door woke her from her first tranquil sleep she had experienced in ages. Cynthia climbed from the soft mattress and peered into the lounge. A woman in a white T-shirt and tight black skirt was standing in front of Patrick. From the way she was staggering around and laughing, Cynthia figured she had to be drunk. Patrick locked the front door and approached the woman, his hands caressing her warm pulsing throat. Her

murmurs of pleasure made him hungry. Cynthia saw his long teeth. She had to force herself to keep watching. It made her feel sick, just standing there and watching that woman die. The woman's screams assaulted her ears as Patrick ripped into the soft flesh. Cynthia slammed her hands over her ears, seeing all the blood gushing down the front of the woman's T-shirt. As the screams began to fade into meek sobs, she forced herself to look back. She couldn't hold back any longer and collapsed to her knees, vomiting onto the carpet. Hastily wiping her mouth, she stared at the mess and pulled herself up, looking back through the mirror. The woman's body was lying on the carpet, not moving. Her doubts whether she could do this were quashed when she remembered what Greg was doing to her Mum. Patrick noticed the mess on the carpet as soon as he entered the bedroom. He hoped that her accident would have helped make her realise that this would become her life, "That's what you have to do to survive. You can still change your mind." Wiping the vomit from her quivering lips, she still thought about the suffering her Mum would be going through. "Do it." Grabbing his arm, she made him watch her unbutton the top of her shirt, nervously seeing him looking at her throat. The soft flesh of her neck looking so delicious, he forced himself to pick up the limp body from the floor. He glanced at her, "I should dispose of her first." Slinging the body over his shoulder, he opened the front door and closed it behind him. Biting her nails, Cynthia forced herself not to think about what she was going to become. The elevator reached the underground car park and the doors opened, allowing Patrick to emerge. He gently dropped the body onto her feet and watched her begin walking toward a gleaming black Mercedes. Her pointed teeth were exposed when she smiled, "That was fun, but what did you think of my performance? Don't be harsh. I

couldn't take a bad review." Patrick remained silent, guilty that he couldn't make Cynthia reconsider. "This was all for nothing." Biting her lower lip with one of her fangs, Krystal enjoyed the trickle of blood in her mouth. "Then do it. If she's so determined, then make her one of us. She might even come to enjoy it after a century or two, besides you'll only have to kill her otherwise." He couldn't stop thinking about what Cynthia had been through, "She wants to become one of us just to kill the man who's abusing her mother." Just thinking about sinking her teeth into the throat of such a delicious sounding girl was made her hungry. "I could do it if you're feeling squeamish." That wasn't an option. He knew Cynthia was scared enough as it was, despite her best efforts to deny it. "It'll make her think she can't trust me. She'll need guidance, if I do it." She thought it was cute, his concern for their little lives. "You really do care about them?" It had always bothered him how she considered mortals to be nothing more than toys to be discarded when she got bored with them, "I suppose that after several thousand years, you forget the things that matter. Compassion, for instance." Enjoying that she could also get him riled up so easily, Krystal returned his gaze. "My age is irrelevant. The girl knows what you are, our laws are simple. It's your responsibility to deal with the matter." This is what he had been trying to delay, but it was time to finally make the choice. In the end, it came down to not wanting to hurt her. "I'll do it, but I'll make sure she's prepared for what's to come." Krystal remembered that night in Paris three hundred years ago when she made him, "I'll keep the club open for a little longer. Bring her round and let her eat someone." As he returned to the elevator, he glimpsed Krystal climbing back into her Mercedes as the doors slid shut. The look on that woman's face was stuck in her mind, the screams continuing to ring in her ears. Cynthia clenched her

fists as she heard him returning. Patrick watched her turn as he closed the door. It was plain to see that she was scared about what was going to happen, "Are you sure this is what you want?" She didn't let herself think about all the fears creeping into her mind, "Yes." His icy hands were on her shoulder in an instant, unbuttoning the top of her shirt. She felt his cold breath on her soft skin, bracing herself for the pain of his teeth ripping into her throat. There wasn't any. It just felt pleasantly numb as his fangs sank into her flesh. She was at peace, her eyes gently closing as her body went limp. It felt like that peaceful moment when she was half asleep, still aware of everything that was happening. Feeling herself being lifted off her feet, she felt the soft cushions of the couch underneath her as he laid her out. The feel of his teeth tearing out of her flesh brought her back to awareness. Unsure of what was going to happen next, she felt his wrist firmly being pressed against her lips. Hot warm blood gushing between her lips, she swallowed it eagerly. Tasting more and more of his blood, she felt more relaxed. It surprised her that it reminded her of honey. He withdrew his wrist from her mouth, cutting off her supply. Waves of power surged through her as she rose from the bed. She felt like she could do anything. "Is that it?" Patrick gently took her hand and led her into the lounge, letting her look into the large mirror. Watching her image begin fading away was like a dream. She couldn't believe it, she was actually a vampire. It seemed like a forever ago that she was scared about this. Everything she was feeling was wonderful, the power, the strength. Now that she was one of them, he set about trying to change her mind about her desire for vengeance once more. "Yes, but what you do now is up to you?" All the things she wanted to do to Greg flooded her mind, "I'm going to enjoy this." The idea of what she was planning didn't make him feel better.

He closed his eyes, regretting that it might have been simply to end all her misery. He decided on one last tactic, one last attempt to make her realise that her previous life had ended. "Can you wait a little longer? It's important that you prove that you are willing to abide by our laws and be prepared to do what is necessary to survive." This was what she had been dreading, but she was not going to be able to avoid it. "Let's just it over with." Cynthia passed a couple of people leaving the nightclub as she followed Patrick inside. It was frightening her that one of the guys enjoying themselves would be dead by the time the morning came up and she would be responsible. She recognised Krystal straight away. It pissed her off, "That's the girl I saw you kill. What the bloody Hell is going on?" Not wanting Cynthia to attract unwanted attention, Patrick gently took her wrist and dragged her struggling to the bar. "This is Krystal, she owns this place. She helped me test your suitability, I'm sorry but it was necessary." The fake toughness on Cynthia's face amused Krystal who leaned forward across the bar, "I hope we can become friends." Pissed by the trick, Cynthia ignored the gesture. "I'll bet. Can we get this over with, I want Greg." Patrick bowed his head in defeat, ""I'll be waiting at my place to keep an eye on you." He felt sorry as she disappeared into the crowd, "I'm not sure this was such a good idea. She's totally committed to killing this guy that's abusing her mother." A trace of sadness briefly passed over Krystal's face as she tried to remember if she was like that when she first became one of them. It was so long ago, nearly four thousand years. "I like her spirit, it's so fresh. It's refreshing to see one of our kind with such drive, she's got potential." The door to Patrick's apartment was unlocked when Cynthia returned, a man with long black hair clinging to her arm as she pulled him inside. Just the anticipation of the kill made her

mouth water. She pushed the door shut with her foot as she manoeuvred him to the couch. Pushing him down, she sat astride him, trapping him between her legs. Her eyes remained fixed on his throat, the soft pulsing sending ripples of excitement through her. The thought of ripping open that delicate white flesh was almost unbearable. Her fingers were opening his shirt as she began gasping with the desire to kill. Her teeth had lengthened considerably, making it almost impossible for her to keep them contained between her lips. She couldn't resist her any longer and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his throat. Feeling the soft flesh with her tongue, she felt the blood gush into her mouth as she ripped open the skin. The guy managed to push her away. The sight of his blood covering her lips made him dash for the door. He tripped when her fingers caught his ankle. She had him pinned underneath in an instant, her long teeth ripping once more into his flesh. The blood tasted much better than Patrick's. That was when she realised how much she was enjoying all of this. Her prey stopped struggling after a few minutes. Something made her release him. She stared at what she had done. Then she vomited, blood gushing over the carpet. His hand twitched. That small movement made her want more. She crawled through the vomit she had just coughed up and tore at the open wound, gulping down more of his blood. Patrick waited until he was sure the man was dead before he emerged from the bedroom. He helped her to her feet. There was no pleasure in his voice as he looked at her handiwork. "You've done well. I wasn't sure you would be capable of killing." The wet blood still on her lips, she thought that she might at least feel guilty, but there was nothing. It was going to feel better than she thought when she got her hands on Greg, "Now, can I get that bastard?" He was disappointed. This still didn't feel right. He considered using

force to stop her, but she had to realise the cost of what she had become. "I suggest you get cleaned up and put on some new clothes. I'll also recommend you wait until your mother isn't present. She'll be frightened by what you are." Cynthia shook her head. She wasn't going to wait any longer. Greg was going to die tonight, "I want him gone." It felt odd coming back here. She stared at the block of flats, cloaked in the dark leather outfit kindly provided by Patrick. He was waiting for her when she reached the closed entrance, "This might be your last chance to forget this. You're beyond it now." There was no way she could leave her Mum with that monster, not now she had the power to get rid of him for good. "I can't let that bastard get away with hurting my Mum, not any more. The other night was the worst. I thought he was going to kill both of us." She began walking up the steps, halting to glance back. "Just don't get in my way." Tossing and turning in the bed, Hilary's nightmares dominated by images of what could have happened to Cynthia. Greg was next to her, calm and relaxed. The hammering on the door woke him first. His first thought was that someone was attempting to burgle the flat. Slithering from the bed, he slipped into his jeans. Grabbing the cricket bat he often used on Hilary, he stormed into the lounge. Cynthia felt sick just being in the same room as him, ""You're not going to hurt my Mum ever again." The little bitch had no idea how glad he was to have her back. When she ran off last night, he had imagined her ending up working on the street. It made him remember how good she had been when Hilary was up visiting her sister. He was going to make sure she never thought about running away again, "Okay, you little bitch. You ready for some more?" Cynthia's plans faltered when Hilary rushed from the bedroom. The bat smashed across Hilary's face, staining her nightdress with blood from her nose. The assault on

her Mum made her loose it. She was across the lounge in an instant, lifting him easily by the throat. Her eyes glowed as she tossed him into the wall. She was beginning to have fun now. It was exhilarating to finally have all this power over him. She liked how he was now the one who was scared. "How does it feel?" Greg grabbed the bat. He didn't give her new strength a second thought. He was just going to make her real sorry she ran away in the first place. "Okay, bitch. You've had it easy up to now." He smashed the bat against her face. She didn't even flinch. His wrist breaking as she grabbed the bat, Cynthia broke it in an instant before his terrified eyes. Grasping his shoulder, she tossed him over the furniture like a rag doll. He crashed down behind the couch. The blood was streaming from his mouth as he staggered to his feet. As soon as she saw the blood, she became hungry. She gave into her passion. Greg stared at her fangs. Somehow he managed a faint whimper as she began moving toward him. Her hand was on his throat again. She liked how scared he was when she licked her lips, letting him see her fangs real close. He began begging her not to hurt him. The constant whimpering got on her nerves and she ripped open his throat. It took him several minutes to die and she savoured every second. Stepping through the open front door, Patrick saw Hilary hiding behind a chair as Cynthia discarded Greg's corpse. This was what he had been hoping to avoid, "She's seen us." A terrible feeling struck at the pit of her stomach, "So?" He understood how hard this would be for her, but it was necessary. "We cannot permit the mortals to know of us. She must become one of us." That option was not acceptable, she wasn't going to let her Mum become like her. "I can't turn my Mum into a killer." There was only one other choice left. He didn't like having to do this, "Then she has to die. I'll make it painless, she won't feel a thing."

Cynthia stepped between him and her Mum, "No." It felt bad enough betraying Cynthia with Krystal. The idea of killing the one person she cared about only made him feel worse, but Hilary had seen too much. "Even we have laws. The others of our kind wouldn’t allow your mother to live. If you aren't prepared to make her one of us, then I have no choice. I have to kill her." She had ripped the arm from a chair before she knew what she was doing and thrust it into Patrick's chest. He managed to stay standing for a few seconds before he grasped her shoulders for support. In his last moments, he understood why she had done this. His blood covered her fingers as she watched him fall. Her Mum's whimpers made her turn. Hilary saw the blood covering Cynthia's lips and screamed. The fangs making it hard for her to smile, she tried reaching out to her Mum. The blood on her hands made her halt. She saw the fear in her Mum's eyes and recognised it. She had seen it so many times, so many times when Greg had been hitting her. Cynthia took one last look at her Mum, almost crying at what she had lost. Then she was gone. TERROR GIRLS The shopkeeper cowered as Stacy Quinn aimed the shotgun at him. An excited smile appeared on her face when he began pleading not to be hurt. She teased him by beginning to lower the shotgun, before firing it at him point black. The back of his head exploded, showering the wall with blood. Grabbing the rest of the cash from the register, she strolled outside and jumped into the back of a yellow van. There was no remorse in her voice when she tapped the driver's shoulder, "Go." The approaching police sirens made her glance out through the window. She hoped it wouldn't be too long before she got to have some more fun. Kicking the small piles of garbage on the walkway outside the row of apartments, Jennifer Costas twisted the key in the lock and opened the door. Clasping her hands over

her spiked black hair, she kicked the door shut with her boot. Her mother was standing patiently by the kitchen table when she entered. Her arms folded, she watched her daughter pull open the fridge. "The school phoned me at work, again. You've not been there nearly all week. I want to know where the hell you've been and I want to know right now, young lady." Jennifer ignored her and took a deep gulp from an open milk bottle. Maria Costas grabbed her daughter's arm, "Don't you turn away from me." Pulling herself free, she appeared ready to strike her mother. "Cool out, Mum. I was hanging with Angel and the others." She was sick to death of hearing that girl's name, "I don't like you spending time with her. She's nothing but trouble. If I find out you've been meeting with her again, you'll only be leaving this house to go to school, is that clear?" "Whatever." Jennifer shrugged her shoulders and began to walk back toward the front door, when her mother caught up to her in the hall. As she caught hold of her daughter's jacket, she felt something in the pocket. She couldn't believe it when she removed the small blade. "What the hell is this?" Jennifer snatched it back, "It's mine." For an instant, the blade remained pointed toward her mother. Then she replaced it in her pocket and walked out, slamming the door shut behind her. Maria stood there, having to wonder whether her daughter would actually have used the blade. The sun was set by the time Jennifer entered the loading yard behind the old warehouse. She slapped her hands against the palms of some of the other girls leaning against the van used in the earlier hold-up. Angel was just beyond the large doors, Stacy at her side as they went through a mass of jewellery. Joining them, Jennifer began shifting through the loot. "Awesome." Stacy repeated the gesture of killing the shopkeeper, the thrill of it still evident on her beaming face. "It was great. I love it where they're scared."

Revealing a butterfly tattoo on her left shoulder as she turned, Angel finished counting the money. "A couple of thousand pounds, give or take a few hundred. Good job, Stacy." Jennifer glanced at both Angel and Stacy ecstatically, "That's our best score yet." The scraping of the wooden gate against the concrete yard made her look back out. She watched a car pulling inside and Angel leap to greet Adrian. He looked so hot, with his goatee and everything. Adrian glanced at Angel as he walked past her, "I heard about your little escapade earlier today. Was it necessary to kill that man?" Stacy was ecstatic about the slaughter, "It turned me on, Adrian." He reached the table and gave the jewellery a quick once over, "Is it all here?" Jennifer noticed how much Angel appeared hurt that Adrian didn't seem to trust her. Removing a small case from the limousine, Adrian placed it on the table. "Four thousand should cover this little lot." About to leave, he stopped and looked back at Stacy. He decided that the way she liked killing had potential, "And another five hundred for this young lady's services." A tremor of nervousness entered Stacy's voice. The other girls Adrian hired never came back. "I'm not sure about this." Angel was at her side in an instant, "Unless you want to go back to your mother, you have to earn money for us and it's not like you're a virgin. This is five hundred pounds and half is yours. And you will possibly be given a position within Adrian's organisation." As Stacy disappeared behind the dark glass of the limousine, Adrian lashed out and grabbed Angel's long brown hair. "I'll take good care of her." Still in the background, Jennifer watched him release Angel and collect the jewellery. She caught a final glimpse of Stacy sat on the backseat of the limousine, before he climbed in and closed the door. Turning away from the limousine pulling out of the yard, a smile appeared on Angel's face. "Party time." The limousine

disappeared into an underground car park near a small lighthouse. Adrian was the first to emerge, then Stacy. She still felt uneasy about this. All her friends knew about her passion for screwing, but she had never done it for money before. As if sensing how nervous she was feeling, Adrian took her arm and escorted her to a room which she figured must be underneath the lighthouse. It was quite bare apart from the roughly made bed tucked away in the corner. Stacy thought the room looked too much like a prison cell she had seen watching 'The Bill.' The door slammed shut behind her and she heard a massive bolt being shoved into place. She panicked, beginning to hammer relentlessly on the metal. She was still feeling the effects from the booze when she reached the steps of the apartment block. Almost at the front door, she stopped as her mother opened it. The sight of her so pissed off actually made Jennifer smile. Maria forced her inside and slammed the door shut, "It's nearly five in the morning. I've been worried sick." She just shrugged, "So what?" "So what? Is that all you've got to say?" Maria focused on her daughter's face, "You're only fifteen years old." Jennifer's fingers encircled the blade in her pocket, "I'm not a little girl." Then she stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door as hard as she could. Her hand hovered over the door handle. Maria thought about going inside to continue the conversation and stopped. She decided it'll best to let her daughter sleep it all off and continue the talk first thing in the morning. Detective Inspector Philip Reese emerged from his black land rover. He was dressed like all the other detectives on site in a plain grey suit. Passing two officers stood at the gate of a construction site, he walked casually to the officers stood by a large sheet covering part of the ground. He promptly knelt down and lifted the sheet. The girl's body had been stripped naked and dumped. What was left her looked like it had been ripped apart

by some kind of wild animal, right here in the middle of Manchester. "Has she been identified yet?" Detective Sergeant Sharon Granger shook her head. "There's an indication that she's a suspect in the robbery of that jewellery store yesterday. Looks she and her friends might have had a falling out." Reese remained silent. He knew full well that this wasn't do by people who could be described as remotely human, but the truth was something that had to remain hidden whenever possible. "Make sure Doctor Thorne performs the autopsy as soon as possible." As he replaced the sheet over Stacy's mutilated features, Reese glanced at Sharon. He was satisfied that she didn't suspect a thing. The woman was almost invisible, her dark skin making her blend in with the shadows of the closed down amusement park. Reese closed the door of his car and approached her. Glancing back to make sure no one was watching, he looked back at her and noticed the bulge of a handgun under her jacket. "There's only been one victim, so far." Linda Stanton nodded, "There will be others. The police report indicates that the victim was part of a local street gang, it'll be a suitable cover for the moment." The memory of seeing the eaten flesh made him shudder, "I know I'm only supposed to be an observer and report any suspicious events, but I want to look into this personally. This street gang is suspected of committing a dozen robberies during the last month and two killings." Clearly expecting the request, she nodded quickly. "I'll leave you to it then. I'll report back to Alex and inform him that the investigation is underway." He turned away, letting her walk into the darkness without another word. Then he wondered where he was going to begin. Maria dressed quickly for work, made her bed and then turned her attention to getting her daughter up for school. She didn't waste time knocking on the door. She stood there, glaring from the open doorway. The bed

was empty, the covers still arranged neatly to suggest that Jennifer hadn't even used it. Then she saw the open window. Reese noticed the concern on Sharon's face as she entered the office. "What's happened?" She gave him the bad news, "I've heard from Doctor Thorne. The girl's body never got to him. We're still looking for the people who were transporting her. But on the plus side, we have made a positive i.d. Her name is Stacy Quinn, she's a runaway. Her family have been looking for her for a couple of years now." Knowing that her family had been searching for her for so long didn't make the truth any easier to take. He began going over everything Sharon had dug up about the girl, trying to come up with a way to advance the investigation. "I want a full list of everyone in this gang that we know about. One of them might help us catch this monster." The last word puzzled her, "Monster?" He realised he had said too much and tried covering himself as best he could, "What else would you call him." Jennifer rose from the small bed that Angel was allowing her to use. She saw Adrian's limousine when she reached the window overlooking the yard. Adrian himself was standing by the gate, talking with Angel and Lisa, a girl who had just joined the gang after getting kicked out of school for trying to sell drugs. She hurried out, ready to ask about Stacy. The limousine was leaving when she emerged from the warehouse and there was just Angel standing by the gate, ready to close it. Jennifer looked around the empty yard, "Where's Lisa?" Shoving a couple of hundred pounds into her jacket pocket, Angel smiled. "She's working for Adrian now. Don't worry, honey. Your turn will come." She was still worried, "What about Stacy? She's not been back yet." "There is no need to concern yourself about Stacy. Adrian will take good care of her. He'll take care of all of us sooner or later." Angel decided it was time to step up Jennifer's

involvement in the gang, "I've got a small job for you, Jen. There's this old man who refuses to pay us for protection. Make an example of him." She removed an Uzi from a case on the table and handed it to Jennifer. The Uzi was pressing into her ribs as she entered the restaurant. She glanced quickly at the man standing behind the counter and passed him, continuing to the toilets. With deliberate slowness, she took out the weapon and looked at it. Then she vomited. It took her a few minutes to get enough nerve to do what she had been told. Grabbing the Uzi, she emerged from the bathroom and scanned the restaurant. There was only one couple at any of the tables. Her gaze returned to the man behind the counter and she rushed forward, not giving herself time to think. The man remained motionless as she thrust the Uzi into his face, "I don't believe you really want to do this." She fired and she watched him fall. Afraid that she may have killed him, she advanced to the counter. She was grabbed from behind by the couple as the man stood up and disarmed her. He instructed the couple to release her. Once she was free, he offered her the chance to take back the Uzi. "I'm Philip Reese. I won't try to stop you leaving, but I would hate to see you end up like Stacy Quinn." It took her a minute to take in what he had said. Then she turned away, hiding her face as she began crying. Motioning the couple to leave, Reese walked round to face her. There had to something she knew that would help find this monster. "Her body was found early this morning. We have reason to suspect that she was murdered." She thought about revenge. The first thing she learnt that she joined Angel's gang was that they looked after each other. "Who did it?" "We don't have any suspects yet." Reese had been hoping for a lot more, "Is there anything you know that might help catch this maniac?" "Angel gave Stacy to her..." Jennifer stopped abruptly, afraid to

implicate her friends. He sat at one of the tables, "Listen, I don't want to sound like I'm ganging up on you, but if this guy is what I think he is. Then by keeping silent, you could be causing the deaths of your friends." Jennifer broke down, more tears soaking her face as she nodded. "Adrian. He's Angel's fence. Everything we get, she sells to him." There was just one last piece of information he needed, "And his last name?" She shook her head, "I don't know. Angel never told any of us." Reese smiled, "Okay. You can go." It surprised her that he was letting her go, she had been sure he was a cop. "You're not going to arrest me?" "No. If you need to talk to someone you can trust, call me." Reese scribbled his telephone number on a slip of paper, "That's my private number." He once more offered her the Uzi, "Tell your friends that you killed Mr Thomas, I'll arrange for it to appear like you're telling the truth." After she had gone, Reese headed into the back room and up the stairs. Stopping by a sealed metal door, he typed in a long code on a small panel. He was inside as soon as the door opened. Ignoring the mass of weapons all around him, he watched Linda emerging from the small office. "I suppose you heard all that?" She nodded, "What's your next step?" Reese thought about it for a minute, knowing that he also had to keep the rest of the police from getting too close to the truth. "I was hoping the girl will help us." He smiled, thinking about the irony of how easy this had been. It had been a lucky break that the gang had been extorting money from one of the Trust safe houses for the last few months. Her fingers trembled as she still held the Uzi, Jennifer entered the warehouse. She carefully placed the weapon on a table, ignoring Angel and several girls partying on the other side of the room. Angel approached her the instant she saw that she was back, "Is it done? Is that bastard dead?" Jennifer nodded without saying a word.

The next thing Angel said made her feel scared. "You may be ready sooner than I thought." Reese descended into the bowels of the police station. Entering a small room full of computers, he approached a dark haired woman sat at a desk. He smiled, "Mel, I need a list of every fence with the first or last name of Adrian." Melissa Pike nodded, "I'll get on with it as soon as I can." As soon as he was out the door, her skin began to blister. He turned from the view of Liverpool and leaned against the railing of his balcony as he heard the front door opening. Melissa closed the door behind her, "We may have a problem." Returning inside, Adrian gave her a long drawn out kiss, his hands sliding over her body. "What could possibly be wrong? We have a steady supply of victims coming from the various gangs around this wonderful country. That is more than adequate to fulfil our hunger and to increase our numbers." She shook her head, "One of the detectives at the station has requested details on your background. I won't be able to delay him for long." Adrian didn't consider a routine police officer to be much of a threat, "So we kill him." Jennifer jumped down from the back of the van, another girl at her side. As a couple of the other girls closed the gate, she saw Angel emerge from the warehouse and begin heading toward her. She produced a Colt 45 and handed it to Jennifer, "I've got another job for you. Amy here will help you. I have received information that a police officer is getting close to us. His name is Reese. Kill him for me." The smile she saw on Amy's face scared her, "I can do it alone." Angel smiled, "It's not fair letting you have all the fun." Reese approached his small house. Reaching the front door, he slipped a key from his jacket pocket, as Jennifer emerged from behind some bushes before him. She aimed the gun and fired. An abrupt scream made him turn rapidly. Amy lay on his lawn, her knee shattered and covered in

blood. Jennifer kept the weapon trained on her carefully, "Angel wants you dead." He glanced at Jennifer, thinking rapidly. "That's for the warning. But you better get back." He pointed at Amy, "You better tell them your friend here has been arrested." Everyone in the gang was there at the warehouse when Jennifer returned. She felt like a wounded bird trapped by a circle of very hungry cats. The other girls departed when Angel emerged from the warehouse, Stacy and Lisa at her side. Jennifer stared at them, angry that Reese had lied to her all along. "Stacy?" Angel waited until Stacy and Lisa had blocked the gate, "There's one last test you must undertake." She removed a large machete from behind her back, "Bring me your mother's head." She took it and looked at it for a moment. Then she decided on what to do and thrust it into Angel's chest. Blood spilling over her hands, she stared as Angel remained standing. Angel grabbed the sharp blade and slid it from her flesh, "We're not killed that easily." Jennifer made a desperate dash for the gate, but Stacy moved faster. As she felt the cold fingers begin to choke her throat, she swung the machete. The blade sliced Stacy's head from her shoulders. She reached the gate and managed to dart outside. Angel held Lisa from going after her, "She'll go to the one place she'll feel safe, home." The banging on his front door woke him. Stumbling down the stairs, he opened it. Jennifer stumbled inside, the machete still held by her trembling fingers. Her eyes revealed the horror of what had happened in the yard of the warehouse. "They're not normal." Reese took the machete, "I know what they are. But I promise they won't kill us, I won't let them." He smiled gently, "But I do need your help to destroy them, you know where they're holed up." She wanted to feel safe, "I just want to go home." He realised that she was right. There was no reason to place her in further danger. "I'll give you a lift if you want." Reese parked

the land rover at the block of flats. He accompanied Jennifer up to the door of the flat. Outside, he nodded. "I'll wait out here." She figured it had been a couple of days since she sneaked out of her bedroom, she felt scared about what her mother was going to say. She removed the key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Passing through the hallway, she felt nervous when she saw her mother standing by the lounge window. "I'm home." Her mother turned and smiled, "Hi, honey." She had been expecting to get yelled at. Then she noticed the blood soaking her mother's blouse. Maria sensed her daughter's sudden fear and knew that Jennifer knew what she had become. Her skin across her face began to blister, continuing until the flesh began to rot. As her mother began to resemble a grossly rotting corpse, Jennifer saw the row of sharp teeth forming between the decaying lips. A grotesque formed across the putrefied face, "Angel is worried about you, honey." The scream erupting from inside the flat, Reese kicked open the door without thinking and raced inside. He ran head along into Maria. Her arm smashing into him, he was catapulted against the wall and slumped to the carpet. She was standing over him in an instant, the large teeth ready to tear at his flesh. Maria grabbed him by the throat. A piece of the frame from the front door burst out through her chest, spraying Reese with her blood. She turned and lashed out, smashing her daughter into the wall. Jennifer screamed as her mother gripped her throat with one hand, lifting her off her feet. The machete ploughed into the side of Maria's rotting neck. Reese watched the severed head roll from the shoulders, the rotting corpse crumpling to the carpet. He slithered out of his coat and used it to cover the body. He glanced at Jennifer, "I'm sorry, but it was necessary. That wasn't your mother, it was Angel and the others who killed her by making her into something like that." Jennifer stared at the shape

under the coat, "I wanted to tell her I was sorry." He tried to comfort her, "There was nothing you could have done. Angel expected you to come back here. She was left here to make you one of them." His words convinced her that it was her fault, "All this is because of me." Reese made her sit on the couch, "It doesn't do your mother any good to think that way. These monsters are everywhere. Give her death meaning. Help me destroy those things that turned her into this." Standing outside the gates of the warehouse, Reese handed Jennifer a second axe and entered the yard. Venturing inside, Jennifer pointed to a flight of wooden steps. "We all used to hang out up there." Reese stopped her from going first, "Just stay behind me." The thought of what they did to her mother gave her the courage to head past him, "I want this over with." His eyes searched every inch as they entered an empty room filled with beds, "All these are empty, where are they all?" She realised for the first time how little she had actually been told about Angel's criminal contacts, "I don't know." "They chose to join us." Angel stepped out of the shadows, her face a mass of rotting flesh. "I must complement your taste in men, Jen. Once you joined us, I guarantee you'll enjoy them a whole lot more." Reese gazed toward Angel, concerned about Jennifer's safety. "Jennifer, get out of here." The fear she saw in the girl's eyes was good. It made the anticipation of tasting her flesh all that more enjoyable. "Yes, Jen. Run along back to Mummy, like a good little girl." Jennifer exploded with rage. Angel caught her without effort and ripped the axe from her fingers. She pulled the girl's head back sharply, the threat of snapping the neck keeping Reese at bay. "One more step?" He raised the axe, "Let her go or I'll rip out your heart myself." His threat was amusing. Angel pushed Jennifer aside and studied her opponent, "What are you? Thirty, thirty-five.

You think that insignificant amount of time makes you capable of killing me. I have seen civilisations destroyed. I have killed people like you by the thousands." Reese stared at Angel with determination, "It ends here." A smile appeared on Angel's rotting features. Her decomposing tongue licked her lips, "At least we agree on something." She grabbed him with one hand when he attacked. Her fingers tightened on his throat. Jennifer watched him smash into the far wall. She rushed forward and snatched up one of the axes. Sensing the girl approaching, Angel turned. Closing her eyes, Jennifer swung the axe. He watched her standing over the rotting corpse lying at her feet, approaching her as she threw up. Waiting until she had finished, he gave her a tissue to wipe her mouth. "You did what had to be done, there was no other way. She would have killed me and turned you into a monster." She looked around the empty room, "They're all gone." Reese placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. "We will find them. Creatures like these don't stay hidden for long." Reese checked that Jennifer was sleeping peacefully in the spare room, before walking onto his lawn. Linda was waiting, sitting against the wall surrounding his front garden. "What have we got on this Adrian?" Linda tapped a finger against the folder in her hand, "I've got it narrowed down to these possibilities. We'll need the girl to identify the precise target." He glanced at the window of the spare room. He didn't really want to involve her any further with this horror, "I don't want to disturb her, not after everything that's happened to her. But I would prefer it if a sweeper team was put on standby." Linda managed a faint smile. "I'll take care of it." Jennifer emerged from the bedroom, dressed in an oversized pink robe she had found hidden at the back of one of his closets. Reese looked at her, smiling gently. "Morning." She indicated the robe

innocently, "I hope you don't mind." It brought back a host of long forgotten memories, "It's used to belong to my wife." Feeling guilty, Jennifer realised how awkward she was making him. "I'll find something else." He stopped her and shook his head, "It's been nearly four years since Micki died, she died fighting for what she believed in." Her curiosity got the better of her, "What happened to her?" Walking to the window, Reese gazed out at his rear garden. "She was killed by a follower of a demon called a Langsuir up in Mexico. When I began digging into it, I was recruited by the Trust to continue her work." Nothing he had said meant anything to her, "The Trust?" Taking her into a small study, he gave her a small journal. "It's a group, a very large group of people who have sworn theirs lives to fighting things like what killed your mother. That's a record of my activities while working for the Trust." He headed to his desk and took the folder left by Linda. Returning, he laid it on the table before her and opened it. "Do you recognise any of these people?" Beginning to leaf through the pages in the folder, she noticed that the photographs were actually of old looking paintings. She stopped on the last painting, the image of the French Aristocrat fixed in her mind. "That's Adrian." As he saw the attached file to the painting, Reese realised how dangerous their enemy really was. "He's been around for nearly two thousand years, using one name or another." He leaned back, trying not to show how scared he felt at going up against someone so powerful. "So that's what we're up against." He glanced at Jennifer's puzzled face and decided to explain, "The Pisachas disciples are flesh-eating demons." Jennifer skimmed over the file, her eyes widening as she saw Adrian's suspected age. "If he is that old, then how can we possibly stop him?" Reese opened a cupboard near his desk. It was full of weapons from wooden

stakes to crossbows and sharpened axes. "There are ways." She glanced back to the portrait, needing more convincing. "We don't even know where he is?" Grabbing a stake from the cupboard, Reese used the sharp point to highlight a section of the file. "Several of his disciples have linked to a nightclub on Garrison Lane. He might not use it himself, but if any of your friends turn up. Well, we'll be able to follow them." It took a few moments for her to put everything together, "You need me to identify them, don't you?" He wished she had been wrong about that, “If there was another way I would take it, there isn't." Jennifer walked into a noise filled and glittering chamber, full of people either dancing wildly or sat at tables, chatting quietly to each other. Climbing the metal steps onto a balcony overlooking the dance floor, she searched the crowd for anyone that she thought she knew. It was two hours before she saw a familiar face below. She followed Amy's progress as she led her dancing partner through the main door. Rushing down the steps, Jennifer ran into the empty street. Hearing someone knocking over a metal garbage bin, Jennifer turned her attention to a dimly lit alleyway. Peering into the gloom, she saw Amy pinning the man against the wall. The sight of her friend tearing chunks of flesh from the man's flesh almost made her scream. Only the thought of her mother making her remember the importance of her task, she dashed back to the Land rover. It was empty. As she approached the window, she braced herself to find his body. A hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her round. Reese's voice relaxed her, "I'm didn't mean to frighten you, I just wanted to take a scout around." Jennifer told him about everything she had seen in the alley. "Get in. Pretend you're trying to start the engine." He rushed to the front of the Land rover and opened the hood, making it appear that they had broken down. "Where is she?" She pointed to the alley, "In

there. She was feeding on someone." He kept his eyes on the narrow opening between the buildings for a few minutes until Amy emerged into the glare from the streetlights. He saw her wipe the last trace of blood from her lips as a black Rolls Royce pulled into the car park and halt in front of her. After she had climbed inside, the Rolls Royce did a complete U-turn and exited the car park. Reese dropped the hood and raced back behind the wheel. His attention firmly focused on the Rolls Royce, he began following it. It looked like it was nearly dawn when Jennifer saw the Rolls Royce enter the grounds of the lighthouse and stop. As Reese continued past, she glimpsed Amy climbing out and entering the building. Parking the Land rover several yards beyond the gate, Reese got out and crouched down at the fence surrounding the lighthouse. The door slamming shut made him look toward Jennifer crouching next to him, "Are you sure you want to come?" She had reverted to the tough little girl he had first met in the restaurant, "That thing wanted to give him my mother's head as a test of loyalty. I want his." Reese crossed the fence and helped Jennifer over, handing her a wooden stake. They reached the walls of the lighthouse and moved toward a side door. Approaching it, they entered a well furnished kitchen with an open door leading down into the cellar. Finding the light switch, Reese turned it on. He wished he hadn't. The bodies of the other girls in the gang were strewn over the concrete floor. Most of them looked like a pack of wild dogs had been eating their flesh for days. The sight made Reese even want to throw up, but he had to go down there. ""We better take care of these first, I don't like the idea of them waking up hungry." Adrian appeared at the far end of the cellar, watching them descend the concrete steps. He stepped over the mutilated bodies, "You will not be harming my daughters. As for little Jennifer, she will

make an interesting replacement for Angel." He produced a small device from his pocket, "One last detail. The entire building above is filled with explosives. Once I press this, everything above us will be destroyed. We will be listed as dead and free to go where we please. As for you, Mr Reese. You will be the first thing my new daughters will eat. " Shoving Jennifer back toward the stairs, Reese took the small stake from under his jacket and ran forward. Jennifer screamed as Adrian twisted it from his fingers and thrust his hand through Reese's ribs. Tearing out Reese's heart, Adrian let the body fall among the girls. The soft flesh in his hand making him hungry, he managed to maintain his human facade. "Give yourself to me, Jennifer, and you will have more power than you ever thought possible." She ran up the steps, dashing into the kitchen. Reaching the door, she tried opening it, but it was locked. Not giving herself time to wonder who did it, she instinctively raced through another door and emerged into an elegant dining room. Glancing for an exit, Jennifer heard the door close behind her. Lisa locked it. Her face began to decay rapidly, the jagged teeth becoming visible between the peeling lips. "Join us, Jen. We can be friends again." As she advanced hungrily, Jennifer backed against a chair and smashed it over what was left of Lisa's face. The chair broke into pieces as Lisa lashed out wildly, catapulting Jennifer to the other side of the table. Jennifer saw that one of the chair legs had been broken into a sharp point. She dived for it. Quickly rising to her feet, her fingers circled around the chair leg as Lisa lunged violently toward her. Instinctively thrusting the point forward, she felt the blood flow profusely over her hands. Someone began banging on the door. Rushing to the window, Jennifer tried opening it. Hearing the hammering stop, she glanced at the door. Smashing through it, Adrian entered and placed the trigger device

on the table. "Congratulations. You passed your final test. You have killed and are ready to join us. Your flight is over, little girl." The words enraged her, "I'm not a little girl." Expecting her to attack, it startled him when she headed for the shattered door instead. Almost reaching the shattered wood, she felt Adrian's fingers grab her wrist tightly. Stretching for a piece of snapped wood, her fingers encircled it. She reacted automatically and he released her, falling across the table. She approached the body, looking at the piece of wood implanted firmly in his chest. It dawned on her that she was the only one left to finish it. She returned to the kitchen and peered down into the cellar. The other girls were standing, their skin rotting on the bone. Jennifer remembered what Adrian had said about the explosives and slammed the door shut, hoping that the bolt would keep them down there long enough. She ran back to Adrian's corpse and snatched up the trigger. Hearing the hammering on the cellar door begin in earnest, she ran from the lighthouse. Reaching what she thought might be a safe distance, she pressed the single switch.