Mark inhaled, tensing. She wouldd be dead any second now if he didn’t act. He reached into his pocket. He sprang.
He was in terrific shape, having served with the Marines before putting in several years as a bouncer while getting his own work sold. Even so, as fast as he was, the man sensed his approach. He heard the snarl of rage before he saw the man at the tomb swirl around, ready to meet him, a horrible, twisted mask of fury on his face. He saw the mouth open, the glint of the fanglike teeth in the darkness. Oddly enough, they had a fascinating opalescent glow.
He swore softly to himself. This wasn’t the same man he had been trailing with such dogged determination. It was another, no doubt equally as bad.
His heart sank. And, yet…
This creature was about to kill. He had to remember justice—had to put it above revenge. He couldn’t let his guard down; he couldn’t falter for an instant.
Before he could reach the creature, however, the man gave a harsh laugh of amusement. “Going to shoot me?” he demanded.
“Hell no,” Mark assured him. His vial was full, and it was open. He aimed directly into the face and eyes of his opponent.
It let out a bloodcurdling cry of rage and astonishment as the holy water bathed its features. There was a flutter of shadow and darkness, a weak flapping of wings. It took off and crashed hard into a tomb.
Mark followed it. He drew the small but sharply honed stake he always carried from his pocket, then skewered the mix of shadow and substance and bat wings by the tomb.
There was a burst of misty color in the night. Dust exploding in the air, crimson with the blood of many lifetimes.
The flapping stopped. For a moment there was something of the lumpen and darkened essence of a man by the grave…then there was nothing. Dirt and ash. Dust to dust.
He stood there, just staring, suddenly shaking as he broke out in a cold sweat.
Suddenly the girl started to scream. The sound jerked Mark back to reality, the here, the now. He turned. She was staring at him with wild, tear stained eyes, obviously in a state of total shock..
“Shut up,” he said, sharply but not unkindly.
“He was a…a vampire!” she said. She blinked in disbelief at her own words.
“Yes.”
“You killed him!” she gasped. “But…he was real.” She shook her head. “That’s…impossible.”
“I’m afraid not.
She swayed, still reeling, shaking as if she were suffering from a severe chill.
“He—he really was a vampire?”
Mark could hear sirens approaching. Someone must have heard her scream. “Yes, he was.” But not the one I was looking for, he added silently.
“I don’t…I can’t…believe this,” she said.
“We need to get out of here. The police are coming.”
“Shouldn’t we stay and report…um…this?”
He arched a brow at her. “You’re going to report what happened here?” he asked.
She stared at him, still shaking. “Yes, but…no, it isn’t real, can’t be real, but…”
“It is real.” He was trying very hard to be patient, but time was running out. He sighed. “They won’t believe you, though. We have to get out of here.”
Her jaw worked hard as she tried to form words. At last, still shivering, she said, “Get me over the wall, please?”
“Of course. Head that way.”
He could move like the wind himself—college football—but she was still so stunned that he felt as if he was dragging dead weight. He had to urge her to help herself as he pushed her up the wall, then jumped to safety behind her and brought her back down on the sidewalk.
Back on solid pavement, she stared at him, shaking her head. “He was really a vampire?”
“Yes.”
“No,” she argued, then, “Yes,” she said.
She was going to need some major therapy, he thought.
“You…you saved my life. I—I—oh, God, I owe you…you…”
“You and I both have to get out of here. They’ll think we’re junkies or thieves or something,” he said flatly.
“Yes, but…I need to…to thank you somehow.” Her eyes were wide, frightened; she wasn’t being sexual, just grateful and unsure what to do about it.
She straightened her spine, still unable to believe what had happened, but trying for proper dignity.
“My life. You saved my life. I owe you something.”
The patrol cars were nearly at the gates.
“You want to do something for me?” he demanded “Be careful. Don’t go off into cemeteries with assholes you meet in a bar, okay?” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
He ran, pulling her along after him, and stayed with her down Canal Street and all the way to Harrah’s.
“I don’t even know your name,” she told him.
“And you shouldn’t,” he said gently. “Go in there. Call a friend. Go home.”
He turned and left her, suddenly exhausted, and more disappointed than he cared to admit.
He’d thought he’d been chasing…someone. But he hadn’t been. It was that simple.
He swore softly.
Damn, but there were a hell of a lot of foul beasts preying upon the world.
It occurred to him as he walked wearily back to his hotel that man himself could be considered one of them—even before the taint of pure evil touched upon him.
He stopped and looked at the roiling sky. He’d killed a murdering bloodsucker tonight. And it was all just beginning.
“I’m coming to get you. You’re going to be mine, in a world of blood and death and darkness,” Deanna Marin whispered darkly.
“Oh, for the love of God, cut it out,” Lauren Crow pleaded.
“Seriously. Perhaps we’ll open a door to another world, and demons will spring out and bring darkness and evil into this world,” Heidi Weiss said, laughing, unable to maintain a low, threatening tone with the same success Deanna had managed.
Both Deanna and Heidi were staring across the outdoor table at Lauren with ridiculous grins on their faces. Of course, they were both holding drinks obtained from
