THIS IS NOT THE WAY I INTENDED TO SPEND THE day. I keep seeing Harris' expression when he asked me if I was all right. It haunts me all the way back to the cottage. He's forming an opinion about me I neither welcome nor like. It's as if he's trying to get into my head. Trying to work a puzzle with missing pieces.
I recognize the look. I'll bet right now he's going over every detail of every time our paths have crossed. Maybe it's because of Wt>
Maybe it's because of the body count.
For the first time, I miss Williams. At least when he was chief, I had a buffer shielding me from the prying eyes of a human police force.
I have messages waiting for me on both my landline and cell phone. The local press picked up the story of the "Supermarket Shoot-out" and want interviews. I delete all ten of them. Curse the fact that they were able to get my unlisted numbers, then smile at the irony in that. I wonder how many people I've tracked down who've cursed me the same way?
An eleventh message is from Stephen. He caught the story as it came over the wire. When I call him back, his phone goes right to voice mail. I assure him that I'm all right, promise that we'll talk soon.
The last message is from Max. He heard what happened, too. He asks if I'm okay and if I still plan to meet him tonight. I return that call. Get his voice mail, tell him yes, I'm okay and yes, I'll see him as planned. I also ask him to bring an extra weapon. I'm sure I won't have my gun back for a few days. If we're dealing with a vampire, I won't really need a gun. But though a bullet won't stop a vampire, it can slow one down.
IT'S A CLEAR, QUIET, MOONLESS NIGHT. MAX AND I have tramped across two miles of barren desert. We're both dressed in dark camo, ski masks covering our faces. He dons night vision goggles. I don't need them. The creatures of the desert are as clear to me in the inky blackness as they would be in the brightest sunlight. I see more than Max ever can, down to the tiniest scurrying insects he crushes underfoot as we trudge onward.
I hear more, too. The faraway cry of a bird of prey. The squeal of a rabbit as the jaws of a coyote snap closed around its neck. The pebbles pushed aside in the wake of a slithering snake.
Then something else.
I touch Max's arm. Signal him to stop. Point off to the north.
Too far away for him to see, there's a dim shadow against the inky darkness. Moving toward us.
Max doesn't question me. We seek cover behind the sloping bank of an arroyo, dry as dust in the summer heat. And hunker down to wait.
The shadow draws closer, divides into three. I probe, careful to keep my own presence hidden. The unmistakable psychic pattern of a vampire comes back like the blip on radar. At least one of them is vampire.
Then a feeling I've come to recognize swamps my senses. Revulsion. Rage. Bloodlust so powerful the vampire within bursts from its human cocoon with the gnashing of teeth.
Evil approaches.
Max seems to detect the change. He leans away from me, an involuntary, instinctive reaction to danger. "What's wrong?"
I strip the ski mask from my face, let it fall to the ground. It takes effort to speak, to form words and force them through a throat that wants to howl. "Stay away from me. No matter what happens."
I don't wait for his reply. I leap over the embankment and head out to meet the monster.