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Message-ID: <59080asstr$1244232683@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Dreadpirate Tom <dptom@live.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Revised: Blood Lust ch. 19-35 (MF, MFF, sad, tort, vampires, viol, caution, nc)
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Date: Fri, 05 Jun 2009 16:11:23 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


   Chapter 19



   From the dark recesses of a small alleyway nearly a block from the old
jail, Arthur watched the scene unfold through expanded senses.  Early
jubilation turned into disgust as his gambit faltered.  A small shudder
passed through his body as the knot of emotions that had been Jimmy
shattered and vanished; the fledgling's existence brought to an end by a
wounded policewoman wielding a broken stick.  With Jimmy's death, Mia's
bond, which Arthur had passed to his morose fledgling at the close of the
prior night, was also lost.

   Arthur had been curious about the effect that the death of a Master
would have upon its slave.  Would the former fledgling be completely and
immediately free or would it be compelled to carry out the last order that
it had been given?  To Arthur's great disappointment, the former turned out
to be the truth.  Inside Arthur's mind, the small knots of primitive
emotion which represented his ferals winked out as Mia exterminated them in
rapid succession.

   Although Arthur's body remained absolutely motionless within the dark
shadows of the alley, his mind writhed with indecision.  It had been his
hope to witness the anguish on Mia's face as she slaughtered her allies and
her lover before seeking her own doom with the rising of the sun, but that
was no longer an option.  With the passing of her bond, it never would be
again.  He wondered at the action he should take now that James had failed
him.  He could just put an end to the treacherous bitch this instant; the
majority of her friends were dead or wounded and garlic water no longer
flowed from the ceiling.  But no, he decided, that death would be too easy,
too simple, for her.  She owed him prolonged agony as payment for her
betrayal and he was determined to collect in full.  Besides, he reasoned,
deferring her end was no longer a risk, now that her connection to him had
been severed.

   Arthur was pulled from his thoughts by the beam of a flashlight
flickering about the alley before homing in and fixing on his face.  He
cursed his own carelessness.  He had been so focused on the events in the
old jail that he hadn't noticed the policeman's approach.

   "Hold it right there, bud, and keep your hands where I can see them,"
the cop commanded as he approached, "This area was evacuated more than a
half hour ago.  What are you still doing here?"

   With a contemptuous sneer, Arthur lashed out with his will.  The
flashlight clattered to the ground as the cop experienced the discontinuity
of thought that comes with the sudden and dramatic loss of memory.  Arthur
tore into the hapless man's mind again.  Eyes glazed over, the policeman
bent over and retrieved his light before walking past Arthur, his mind
refusing to acknowledge the vampire's presence.

   Arthur waited patiently as Mia and the few remaining policemen in the
old jail tended to their wounded and loaded the remains of James and most
of the ferals into the large van formerly used by the city's SWAT team. 
When the van pulled away, Arthur followed.  He kept pace as the van
traveled outside the bounds of the city to a long abandoned steel mill that
sat like a decomposing corpse among a throng of vacant, ramshackle houses.
There, careful to stay downwind out of respect for Mia's exceptional
olfactory sense, he watched from a distance as the bodies of his former
minions were loaded into the rusted ruins of the mill's Bessemer blast
furnace, doused with gasoline and set ablaze.  Mia and the policemen
somberly tended the fire, liberally adding more fuel as needed, until
nothing but bone remained.  They then took turns crushing the bones to
fragments with a sledgehammer taken from the back of the van.

   The light from the fire and the noise of the hammer drew the attention
of a few bedraggled homeless people who were taking temporary shelter in
the industrial ghost town.  They gathered at a distance and stared,
bewildered, at the scene.  Mia moved among them and they dispersed to go
about their business, retaining no memory of the grim activities they had
witnessed.

   Arthur's interest peaked when one of the policemen embraced Mia from
behind and kissed her softly as she leaned back into him.  Now he knew the
face of Mia's lover.  A small smile appeared on Arthur's face as he
contemplated the man's extremely limited and agonizingly painful future.

   When the police were finally satisfied with their disposal efforts,
Arthur followed the van back to the station.  There he watched Mia and her
mortal climb into the rusty remnants of a first generation Ford Escort.  He
again followed as they traveled to a moderate sized apartment building and
stood watching as they went inside.  Once he had learned the apartment
number, he faded into the night, not willing to tolerate the disgusting
display of sentimentality for so much as a second longer.

   The passage of less than half an hour found him in South Oakland, a
neighborhood that was a curious mix of dilapidated houses rented out to
college students for ridiculous fees and the far better kept homes of
laborers.  At this late hour, the vast majority of the residents of both
types were deeply asleep in their beds.  In a fit of pique, Arthur vented
some of the pent up rage and frustration from the evening by reaching out
to the sleeping minds with his own as he walked past; invading their dreams
with horrific, nightmare visions.  In his wake, formerly blissful
slumberers woke screaming in terror or, in the case of several elderly
residents, never woke again.

   Shortly, he reached the small, one story house that he had purchased
more than a month ago for just such contingent circumstances as those he
found himself in at the moment.  Entering the living room, lit only by the
diffuse light of street lamps filtering through the curtains, he found
Alicia sitting on the couch, her feet curled beneath her.  Loud snores,
emanating from the bedrooms down the short hallway, revealed the presence
of the mercenaries.

   Alicia stood to greet him, her lips curving upwards in a smile.  Arthur
could not help but notice that the dress he had selected at random from one
of the Bollingers' closets did not fit his fledgling well; being far too
small in the bodice and too large in the hips.

   Running a finger over the exposed skin of one of the breasts that bulged
obscenely out of what had been intended as a daringly low neckline for a
far less amply endowed woman, Arthur commented, "We shall have to acquire
some new attire for you, Alicia.  You will find it difficult to remain
inconspicuous in your current garb."

   She responded with a non-committal shrug of her shoulders, sending
delightful ripples through her mostly exposed bosom.

   Noticing several tell-tale stains on the front of her dress, Arthur said
dryly, "I see that you were playing with our guards.  I trust that you did
not cause them any undue damage?"

   With a sultry smile, Alicia replied, "They're fine, Master." She paused
for a moment, her lips pursed in thought, before adding, "Although they may
be a little sore tomorrow."

   With a light laugh, Arthur settled onto the couch and reached for the
television remote.  "There was much ado at the courthouse this evening,
Alicia," he said, "Let us see how the official cover story is holding up to
media scrutiny."

   As Arthur flipped back and forth between CNN and CNBC, Alicia curled up
next to him on the couch.  One of Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly in
surprise when Alicia undid the front of his pants to expose his manhood,
and then leaned over to take it into her mouth.  Arthur absently watched
Alicia's head bob up and down in his lap until CNN began to report the
breaking news from Pittsburgh.  Prominently displaying an old mug shot of
Stan, the belligerent bar patron turned feral, over video of police cars
surrounding the old jail, the lovely female anchor recited a story almost
verbatim to that which Arthur had heard Chief Jacobs fabricate earlier that
night.

   As the anchor began to summarize the tragic events of the prior week,
Alicia stood, pulled her dress above her waist and sat on Arthur's lap,
taking his cock fully inside her cold, wet sex.

   Even when Alicia's hips began to rise and fall, Arthur paid the woman
little attention.  Twisting his head in an attempt to see around her,
Arthur commanded, "Lean forward a bit, Alicia dear, you're blocking my view
of the television." Without interrupting the rhythms of fornication, Alicia
immediately complied with her Master's order.

   The anchorwoman next connected Stan and his alleged accomplices with the
massacre that had occurred at Sam's Tavern the previous night,
characterizing the event as a falling out among conspirators.  The reporter
completed the segment on Pittsburgh by rehashing the tired story that the
SWAT team had been lost to a gang of heavily armed thugs.  Typical of the
media in this day and age, even in the absence of actual facts, the anchor
hinted at a connection between all three events and implied that some of
Stan's accomplices could still be on the loose.  The clear implication was
that further acts of violence could, and likely would, occur.  There was no
indication that the media had even thought to question any of the official
renditions of the three events.

   Arthur sat fuming, truly vexed that fear-mongering, celebrity worship
and sensationalism had taken the place of true investigative reporting
among modern day reporters.  He had gone to so much effort in order to
reveal the fundamental truth that humanity was not as highly placed on the
food chain as they wished to believe, and the news media couldn't even take
the trouble to look beyond the flawed and facile story that had been spoon
fed to them by some low-level public functionary.

   His plan had revolved around his belief that the official cover story
would not hold up to scrutiny; and that there would be spreading awareness
among the mortals that they were little more than cattle.  Once fear,
tempered by the belief that the threat had been ended, had spread
throughout the populace he had intended to again reveal himself in another
act of carnage, tearing away the last final, fragile remnants of their
sense of security.  But there was no sign that the cover story was being
subjected to any scrutiny.  It appeared that he would have to perform an
act of such magnitude that it couldn't be hidden or ignored.  As he
considered how he might accomplish his purpose in the face of the media's
obtuse incompetence, a cold light began to burn in his eyes.  The solution
suddenly seemed obvious.

   His primary concern resolved, Arthur turned his attention to the
fledgling who continued to bounce energetically in his lap.  He found her
lack of resentment and apparent devotion difficult to believe.  With
exacting care, he sifted through the knot of emotions that was the artifact
of her bond to him, but he could find no evidence of subterfuge.  Either
she was exactly what she appeared to be, or she was such a master of
deception that she could mold even her deepest thoughts and feelings to fit
the character she wished to portray.  Arthur dismissed the latter
possibility with a snort of laughter.

   Putting his misgivings aside in the face of nearly indisputable
evidence, Arthur reached out to his fledgling and ran his fingers lightly
over her flanks.  The pleasure she experienced at his touch flashed through
the bond even as she orally expressed it with a soft coo.  He traced a
finger down the crack between her buttocks to her anus.  In response, she
slowed her movements to invite further exploration.  His finger slid easily
into the well greased orifice.  He smiled with amusement at her back;
apparently she had entertained the guards far more thoroughly than he would
have guessed.

   Hooking his finger over the delicate ring of muscle, Arthur used it as a
handle to bounce her on his cock with ever increasing rapidity.  Through
the bond, he knew that this was causing her some pain, but, strangely, the
slight pain seemed to incite even greater pleasure.  Briefly he considered
testing the limits of her tolerance, but found that he could not bring
himself to do so.  To his great disgust, part of him was intrigued by the
idea of a fledgling who didn't resent and loathe him.  He knew that if he
wanted to remain strong, to be able to continue to resist the pain and
disappointment that came with the endless flow of centuries, that he had to
be cold, dispassionate, and uncaring.  He needed to crush this newly
discovered weakness so completely that it would be as if it had never
existed.  To his dismay, instead of doing that which must be done, he found
himself removing his finger from her body and sliding his hands gently up
her sides to cup her breasts.

   She leaned slowly back against him until she was pressed against his
chest.  Twisting her head to playfully nip along his jawline, she whispered
excitedly, "Bite me, Master.  Please bite me!" Before he could answer, she
added in a wistful tone, "I tried biting myself, but it didn't work."

   Even as he turned his head and opened his jaws to give her what she
craved, Arthur's eyebrows arched in surprise.  In all of his years, it had
never once occurred to him to try to bite himself as a form of macabre
masturbation.  As his teeth pierced her skin and she writhed and moaned in
ecstacy, he wondered just what he had created when he had given her the
Gift, both in her and in himself.  She bent and bit into one of his hands
that still fondled her breasts and his cares were washed away in the bliss
of release.

   Chapter 20

   Tom's alarm clock forced him from slumber at the disgustingly early hour
of ten a.m.  He rubbed his knuckles into sleep bleary eyes, wanting nothing
more than to roll over and go back to sleep.  That wasn't possible, though.
The city wide memorial service for the men and women lost during the first
raid on a vampire's lair was at noon.  He couldn't miss it.

   Turning to look at Mia's face, peaceful in dormancy, he whispered,
"That's what I get for falling in love with a vampire: too damn accustomed
to the hours they keep."

   He kissed Mia's cool lips lightly and then pulled himself from the bed.
Before exiting the room, he eased the blankets over her head to ensure that
no sunlight would be able to find her.  He quickly showered and put on his
dress uniform, deciding at the last minute that he would just swing through
a drive-thru for breakfast.  To hell with his growing gut.

   A half hour later, still munching on a sausage and egg burrito, he
stopped by the hospital to check on those who had been injured the prior
night.  A short conversation at the reception desk informed him that all
but Dana and Mark had been treated and released, although many of the
others had follow up appointments.

   He stopped by Dana's room first but found her asleep, her face still
pale and drawn despite the blood that had been given to her by IV.  Turning
to leave, he almost bumped into the doctor that had performed the surgery
on the injuries that Mia had inflicted on Mark at their first meeting.

   With a nod toward Dana's sleeping form, the doctor solemnly stated,
"Dramatic and profound anemia, with no sign of injury.  A common condition
as of late, though she is one of the few to survive it.  I will, of course,
continue to profess my ignorance of the underlying cause to anyone who
asks, but I would like to know if there have been any developments."

   With a smile, Tom replied, "Actually, doctor, I think you'll find that
particular condition will be extremely rare from here on out."

   While it was obvious that the doctor craved details, he contented
himself with a relieved nod, "That may be the best news I've had in years.
Thanks for the info, Detective."

   Tom stopped by Mark's room next, grinning with amusement when he saw
that Jenny was perched on the edge of the bed, watching her husband like a
hawk.  The determined look on her face made it clear that she would never
again allow Mark to vanish without her knowledge.  Tom chatted with the
pair until it was nearly time for the memorial service.  Before taking his
leave, Tom had Mark give him the phone number of Peter Black, the former
city police officer who was now involved with a 4H group in a rural suburb.

   Tom called Peter as he drove to the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial in
Oakland.  The news was excellent.  Peter not only did the butchering for
everyone who purchased an animal from the 4H group, but also did a fair
amount of such work for the farmers in his area.  Peter estimated that he
processed between ten and fifteen animals each week, and, because he worked
the daylight shift for the municipal police department, he did all of the
butchering at night.  Finally, and most importantly, the animals were
usually delivered to Peter alive and, if someone else wanted to pay a
nominal fee for the privilege of killing them, Peter had no objection so
long as the meat wasn't damaged.  The "nominal fee" that Peter quoted was
even actually nominal.  Tom set up an appointment for that evening, and
concluded the call just as he arrived at the parking garage near the
memorial.

   Tom was pleased at the turnout for the memorial service, which had been
expanded at the last minute to include those who had fallen the night
before.  It appeared that every off duty police officer within a hundred
mile radius had come to pay their respects and more than a few had traveled
much farther.  There were also far more civilians present than he had
expected, and, although some were obviously there only for the spectacle of
the event, most were somber and seemed grateful to the men and women who
had given their lives in service to the public.  This was so even though
the masses still had no idea what these men and women had faced.

   By the time all the speeches had been given, and the hearses, at the
head of a miles long procession, had carried the honored dead across the
city to be lowered into the welcoming earth, the sun hung low in the sky.
Tom whispered a final farewell to his fallen brethern, and then left to
address the needs of the living, or at least the needs of a single undead.

   Traffic was unexpectedly light on the way back to his apartment and he
arrived with more than an hour left until dusk.  He decided to put the time
to good use and curled up on the bed next to the dormant form of his lover,
gently pulling her body toward him until she was spooned against him. 
Within moments he was asleep.

   For Mia it seemed that every awakening over the past week had brought
with it a completely novel experience.  This night it was the feeling of
waking up wrapped snugly in another's arms.  She felt deliciously,
wonderfully warm as she had not since the time she had received the Gift.
While extremes in temperature did not cause her discomfort, warmth such as
this remained exceedingly pleasant.  With a happy murmur, she snuggled
herself deeper into Tom's chest.  Moments later, his arms tightened around
her as he, too, came awake.

   Mia twisted herself around until she could draw him to her for a kiss
which lingered on until Tom pulled himself away with a reluctant sigh.

   Giving Mia a light, affectionate pat on the bottom, he said, "I wish we
could stay like this all night, but we have places to go and people to
see."

   "Oh?" Mia whispered indifferently as she gently tried to pull his mouth
back to hers.

   "I was thinking that I would take you out for dinner," Tom elaborated
even as his halfhearted resistance of her efforts failed and their lips met
again.

   This time it was Mia who disengaged.  Tom laughed at the bewildered look
on her face and explained the arrangement that he had reached with Peter
Black.

   "Okay.  Let's give it a shot," she said when he finished.

   After a quick shower and an hour drive into rural western Pennsylvania,
they arrived at Peter's abode, an ancient but well maintained farmhouse
sitting in the middle of recently plowed fields that stretched over the
gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

   As they exited the car, Peter came out to greet them.  Of average
height, he was thick with muscle and had a broad, kind face topped with
hair that was beginning to thin despite his relative youth.

   After introductions and handshakes had been exchanged, Tom gazed around
the countryside as he commented, "A policeman, a butcher and a farmer.  I'm
impressed."

   With a chuckle, Peter replied, "The land's mine, been in the family for
a couple generations, but I rent it out to a real farmer who lives down the
road a ways.  I barely have the time to keep a small garden behind the
house."

   After sizing Tom up for a moment, Peter ventured, "I gotta tell ya that
I didn't know what to make of your call, so I dialed Mark up.  He vouched
for yinz guys, said you were on the up and up, and promised that yinz
weren't gonna be doing nothing perverted.  He also told me that I shouldn't
ask no questions, so I won't.  What you want with them animals ain't none
of my business and, as long as you don't mess up the meat, I won't make it
my business.  I got two pigs in the barn out back that need butchering
tonight.  I reckon that you can find the barn on your own.  Let me know
when yinz are done so I can do what needs doing 'fore the meat goes bad."

   Tom shook Peter's hand again, slipping the man a folded up twenty in the
process.  With a polite nod, Peter thumbed the cash into his pocket and
vanished back into the house.  Walking around the side of the house, Tom
and Mia found only a corrugated metal garage that, by the process of
elimination, had to be the barn to which Peter had referred.  When Tom
raised one of the double garage doors, bright florescent light spilled out
into the darkness.

   The building had only a single room which was highly utilitarian in
nature.  The area closest to the door was filled by a stall, large enough
to hold several cows but currently containing only the two pigs that Peter
had mentioned.  On the floor near the stall, the pair could see a coiled
hose and several industrial sized bottles of Clorox.  It was apparent that
the room had been designed for easy cleanup with the poured concrete floor
being inclined slightly downward toward a large drain located in the
center. The sides of the room were lined with a variety of smokers and
freezers, some of which were partially dismantled.  At the rear of the
room, a large wooden table, covered with a variety of knives, saws and
clamps, spanned the width of the building.  Every surface was spotlessly
clean and the room reeked of bleach.

   For several minutes, Tom and Mia leaned against the stall wall, gazing
uncertainly at the huge swine within.  In contrast, the pigs showed no
interest whatsoever in their visitors, but merely continued rooting around
in the thinly strewn hay on the floor.  After forcing her doubts aside, Mia
vaulted over the waist high enclosure.  The instant her feet touched the
floor, the pigs raised their snouts, nostrils opening wide as they sniffed
the air deeply.  Both beasts immediately started to tremble, their eyes
rolling until the whites showed prominently.  Then Mia's inhuman speed was
put the test as the pigs charged in a frenzy around the stall while
squealing in fear.  Once she was able, Mia hopped back over the wall and
delved into their primitive minds until they calmed and grew still.

   Returning to the interior of the enclosure, Mia concentrated on one of
the beasts until, snorting softly, it fell to its knees and then over on
its side.  Its breathing became deep and regular as it was forced into
sleep.  Mia then ran a finger around the neck and throat of the other
swine, feeling for the pulse of a large artery.  Failing to locate one, she
slid her hands down the pig's body.  She located a pulse on the underside
of the tail, but refused to feed so close to the pig's anus.  Fortunately,
as she picked up each of the legs in turn, she found surface arteries on
the back of each.

   Mia crooned softly to the pig until it sank to the floor to lay on its
side.  Rolling it fully over onto its back, she examined the lower part of
one of the front legs more carefully.

   Looking up at Tom, she asked, "Um, could you find a clean rag, wet it
down and give it to me?"

   Tom did as she asked.  Once the leg had been cleaned as much as
possible, Mia hesitantly lowered her head and bit into the pulsing artery.
Hot blood gushed into her mouth, but, while it did give her some pleasure,
it did not send her to the heady heights of orgasmic bliss that human blood
did.  The pig, on the other hand, grunted wildly as its hindquarters
frantically humped up off the floor.  Mia averted her eyes when its penis
slid from its sheath.

   Mia continued to feed until the swine had breathed its last.  As she
rose back to her feet she took the massive head in her hands and twisted
until she heard the neck snap.  Seeing Tom wince at the sound of breaking
bone, she explained, "I have no idea what effect my bite might have on an
animal, but I bet Pete would be really upset if it jumped up off the
butcher's table and bit him before running loose to ravage the
countryside."

   They both giggled slightly at the mental image that Mia's words created,
but Tom sobered quickly and asked, "So, uh, how was it?"

   Mia considered the question for a few seconds before answering, "It
certainly wasn't the best meal that I ever had, but I think it will
suffice, at least for a day or two."

   After a moment's thought, Tom asked, "Do you need the other one, too?"

   Mia shook her head, "I don't think so.  Just one held a lot more blood
than I'm used to taking in all at once."

   Tom quickly jumped backwards as Mia heaved the body of the massive beast
out of the enclosure before hopping out herself.  She dragged the carcass
near to the drain and then fetched a knife from the butcher's table.  As
she made incisions over the leg arteries, she explained, "No matter what
assurances he gave us, Peter will get curious if his animals are drained
completely of blood without any major injuries or mess.  Could you grab the
hose and spray off the pig and the area around it?  That will make it look
like we washed the mess down the drain."

   Tom nodded, seeing the logic in her plan, and did as she told him.  As
he sprayed water over the already clean area, he asked, "I'm guessing that
doing things like this is how you stayed hidden for all those years?"

   She nodded, "Partially.  The other part was who we chose to feed on.  No
offense to your department, but, generally speaking, when gangbangers,
homeless people or petty criminals turn up dead there isn't much of an
investigation.  The loss of blood is explained away through the assumption
that the victim was killed elsewhere and then transported."

   While he wanted to defend the dedication and impartiality of police
departments everywhere, Tom couldn't really refute her point.

   After telling Peter that they were done and making arrangements to meet
him again in two days when he was scheduled to butcher a lamb, they started
the drive home.

   As they entered the outskirts of the city, Tom reached over and took her
hand, squeezing it gently.  "You know," he said with a smile, "After going
out to dinner, it's traditional to take your date dancing or to the movies
or something."

   Mia returned his smile with a broad grin of her own, "Dancing sounds
fun."

   Several hours later, Tom trudged slowly up the stairs to his apartment.
His hair and shirt were damp with sweat and his legs felt like rubber. 
Dancing with Mia had been much like one of the aerobic training sessions
during his academy days, only lasting much, much longer.

   He groaned as she gave him a playful swat on the butt, too tired to even
flinch.

   "Get moving, slowpoke," she chirped, "I'm not done with you yet."

   "I swear that you're trying to give me a heart attack," he replied with
mock indignation, "I'm not as young as I used to be, you know."

   "Pfft," Mia scoffed, "I'm more than a hundred years older than you and
you don't hear me whining."

   At the next landing, she pressed her lips to his ear and, in a soft,
throaty whisper, told him exactly what he could expect once they made it to
his apartment.  He found the energy to run up the last two flights of
stairs as Mia laughed behind him.

   The passage of a few more long and extremely pleasant hours found them
lying languidly entwined in Tom's bed.  He was even more exhausted now, but
didn't mind in the slightest.

   Snuggling her head into the crook of his neck, Mia murmured happily,
"See?  You're not so old and decrepit after all."

   Grinning, he began to respond when he was interrupted by the hum of his
cell phone vibrating against the top of his night stand.  He stared at it
with dread as it continued to ring; the last call he had gotten at three in
the morning had led to him wading through blood at Sam's Tavern.  Finally,
with a reluctant groan, he pushed himself out of bed and answered the phone
as he fumbled his way toward the bathroom.

   Several minutes later, he came running back, already punching the phone
number of the first member of his team on his list into the cell phone. 
"Bad news.  Really bad," he told Mia in an agitated voice, "Would you be
willing to give us a hand?  We could probably really use it."

   Mia hopped from the bed and began to pull on her clothes.  "Of course,"
was all she said.

   Chapter 21

   Arthur strolled slowly around the perimeter of the William Penn Hotel.
Alicia, now wearing an elegant evening gown that fit her perfectly, walked
quietly at his side.  With the tragic events of the past week and the
historically large memorial service earlier that day, the news media had
flocked to the city like vultures to fresh carrion.  Many of them had
roosted here at the city's finest hotel.  With his extended senses, Arthur
could feel their pretentious, petulant minds teeming throughout the
building, waiting hopefully for yet another tragedy to befall the city, one
that could be exploited in the name of ratings.  He would give it to them.
After all, what better instrument could there be to bring fear to the
masses than the slaughter of the fear-mongers themselves?

   As they walked, Alicia asked, in a tone that was curious rather than
reproachful, "Does the killing of innocents ever bother you, Master?"

   Arthur let out a surprised laugh.  "I am surprised to hear you ask such
a question, child," he replied, "I would have thought that you, of all
people, would realize that, among humanity, there is no such thing as
innocence; only degrees of guilt."

   She pondered his words as they walked to the entrance of the hotel. 
They nodded amiably as the doorman, dressed in an extravagant colonial era
uniform, threw the door wide to allow them entrance.  Arthur gazed
appreciatively around the luxuriously appointed lobby, from the fine
crystal chandeliers to the well polished marble floor.  The center of the
room was filled with arrangements of plush, comfortable looking furniture
while the periphery was a melange of store fronts.  The two areas were
separated by an elegant railing topped with a deeply polished hardwood
handrail.

   They strode casually across the lobby to the area devoted to the hotel's
administrative offices; in their expensive attire no one gave them a second
look..  There, Arthur reached out with his mind to touch those of the few
security guards on duty, planting suggestions to ensure that they would not
take notice of the images of Arthur and his fledgling which would
undoubtedly soon appear on the security monitors.  The duo then walked to
the elevators where Arthur contemplated the buttons for a moment before
deciding to start at the bottom and work his way up.  Eager anticipation
coursed through him as the time of the slaughter grew nigh.  As the doors
slid shut, a business traveler happened to look through the shrinking gap
to meet Arthur's eyes.  His briefcase fell from fingers that had gone
suddenly, inexplicably weak and every hair on his body stood on end.

   Several floors up, the first floor with guest accommodations, Arthur and
Alicia strode out of the elevator and walked to the first door in the short
hallway.  Arthur probed the interior of the room and then the locking
mechanism with his expanded senses.  Satisfied with what he had discovered,
he raised his hand to the lock and focused his will, causing the pins and
tumblers to fall into place.

   There were two men inside, each sitting on one of the identical double
beds that filled most of the room's floor space.  The room was cluttered
with a number of video cameras, tripods and various other tools of the
trade for a professional cameraman.  As the door silently opened, they
looked up from the laptops on which they had been reviewing the day's
footage.

   The one sitting closest to the door looked at the intruders with
irritation and began to speak, "I'm sorry, but I think you have..."

   His voice cut off with a gurgle as Alicia grabbed him by the neck,
smiling at him with malicious glee before sinking her fangs deeply into his
throat.  Moving swiftly across the room, Arthur broke the other man's jaw
with a casual backhand to forestall any potential cry for help.  Grabbing a
handful of hair, Arthur bent the man's head sharply to the side and then
joined his fledgling in the joy of feeding.

   Several minutes later the men lay sprawled across their beds, their
sightless eyes fixed and staring at the ceiling.  Arthur paid them no
further heed.  He briefly inspected his fledgling to ensure that her attire
bore no suspicious stains and then led her back out into the hall, pausing
briefly to place a "Do Not Disturb" sign over the knob.  They moved from
room to room and from floor to floor.  It did not matter if they found
their victims asleep, awake, alone or in groups; it made no difference if
those they encountered tried to run or stood to fight.  Once the pair
entered a room, they did not leave until all within were dead.  There were,
however, some rooms that they did not enter.  There simply was not enough
time to clear the entire hotel in a single night and leaving witnesses was
a crucial part of the exercise.  Arthur was careful to leave at least one
cameraman and, occasionally, a reporter among the living on each level.

   As had been the case in Sam's Tavern several nights before, the two were
forced to regurgitate the blood that they had consumed after every few
victims so that they might continue the feeding frenzy.  In an impromptu
competition, they did so in as gruesome a manner as possible in an attempt
to achieve the greatest effect upon any who might view the scenes in the
aftermath of the evening.

   As they moved up to the higher floors of the building, they began to
come across the suites, occupied by reporters who had achieved celebrity
status, wealthy businessmen and a few vacationers and honeymooners.  When
death came to their doors, status meant nothing and wealth could buy no
privileges.

   It took more than a few hours after the carnage had begun for the pair
to clear somewhat more than half of the nearly six hundred rooms of the
large hotel, but, finally, there was only one area remaining: the
presidential suite.  In the hall outside the luxurious and expensive
apartment, Arthur waved his hand over the door knob and watched as the
indicator light for the electronic lock went from red to green.  Pushing
the door open, he and Alicia entered a foyer dominated by a round table of
polished marble centered below a crystal chandelier.  To their right was a
large, elegantly appointed meeting room, to the left an identically sized
room which had as its focal point a baby grand piano.  All three rooms were
empty.

   Arthur pushed his awareness through the rooms and discovered that there
were three people within; one alone in a bathroom and the other two each
sleeping on their own twin bed in a room that would have been described as
servant's quarters a century ago.  Passing quickly through a dining room
and kitchenette, Arthur entered the master bedroom with Alicia close on his
heels.  The bathroom and its lone occupant were on the opposite side of the
only other door to the room.

   Throwing that door open, he and Alicia burst into a lavishly appointed,
steam filled bathroom.  Inside, a woman laid semi-reclined in a large,
marble whirlpool bath.  Even if he had not already been sifting through her
memories, Arthur would have known her on sight.  Her name was Naomi Harper
and she had been voted the most trusted news anchor in the country the
previous year.  At the moment, her adoring fans would barely recognize her
as the perky blond that they so loved; a sullen glower twisted the delicate
features of her face and her mind seethed with resentment over having been
sent here by the network executives to cover the day's memorial service in
person.

   As she registered their presence, Naomi threw a hand across her breasts
and hunched down to immerse herself more fully in the steaming water.  Her
face contorted in rage, she screamed, "Who the fuck are you?  Actually,
fuck that; I don't care.  Just get the fuck out!" The arm not covering her
breasts rose from the water to imperiously point out the way.

   "Tsk, tsk, Naomi," Arthur replied in a low, condescending tone, "What
would your viewers say if they heard such vulgar profanity coming from your
lips?"

   Ignoring the question, Naomi shrieked, "Tricia, Victor, get your asses
in here!"

   Almost immediately, Arthur heard rapid footsteps approaching the master
bedroom.  His eyes narrowed in concentration and claws again extended from
his fingertips.  Seconds later, Victor, Naomi's personal administrator, and
Tricia, her makeup and wardrobe consultant, sprinted into the room, their
hair and slight clothing in disarray from sleep.

   Naomi, her composure restored by the arrival of reinforcements,
commanded coldly, "Escort these intruders out of the suite and call
security.  I most certainly will want to press charges."

   After giving Alicia a quick nod, Arthur spun and drew his clawed hand
across Victor's abdomen, spraying blood and bits of viscera across the fine
porcelain tiles of the bathroom wall and Naomi's face and breasts.  At the
same moment, Alicia threw Tricia to the floor and pounced upon the supine
woman, exposing her fangs in a snarl before sinking them into Tricia's
throat.  The obscene sucking noises of her voracious feeding echoed through
the small room.

   Stepping around his feeding fledgling, Arthur walked slowly toward the
stricken woman in the bathtub.  "I have a job for you, Naomi," he said,
"You are going to be the one who reveals our presence to the world.  But
that will not be possible until you understand our nature."

   Arthur's words pulled Naomi from her dazed stupor.  "Who the fuck are
you?" she asked shrilly as she frantically wiped at the blood spatters on
her face.

   In a patronizing voice, Arthur replied, "I believe the proper question
is 'What the fuck are we?'" Turning his head pointedly toward where Alicia
still fed on the writhing, moaning makeup artist, he continued, "You were
an investigative reporter before you became an anchor.  Surely the answer
to that question must be obvious."

   Naomi stared in shock as Tricia grew still and a death rattle emanated
from her ravaged throat.  "You killed them," Naomi said numbly.

   "Ahh, there are the astute powers of observation that have won you such
esteem," Arthur said mockingly as he took her by the hair and dragged her
whimpering from the tub.  He threw her to her knees at his feet and ran his
gaze up and down her trembling form.  Naomi, who he could see was a natural
blond, was in her early to mid-thirties, and had the tight, toned body of
one whose career depended on being physically attractive.  She squealed as
he curiously flicked one of her breasts with a clawed finger, confirming
that her impressive bust was entirely natural.

   Gazing up at him with wide, terrified eyes, Naomi whimpered, "What do
you want?"

   Arthur sneered down at the woman, "I want all of mankind to spend their
nights trembling in fear behind heavy, locked doors.  I want the best and
strongest that humanity has to offer to hunt me that I might rend their
flesh and consume their life.  I want my kind to take our rightful place as
masters of this world with you as our chattel." He paused for a moment, his
lips curling up into the semblance of a smile, before he continued, "But
first, dear Naomi, I want to listen to you scream in agony as I fuck you."

   As he pulled his erect cock from his pants, Arthur caused his claws to
curl into talons and sank them lightly into the skin of her scalp.  Once
she was held firmly in place, he eased forward until the head of his
manhood brushed against her soft lips.

   Naomi's mouth twisted with distaste at the sight of his large, ugly cock
and, with a fierceness that did not extend to her eyes, she spat out, "If
you even try to stick that in my mouth, I swear to God that I'll bite it
off."

   Arthur laughed, "I admire your spirit, dear, but I'm afraid you are
mistaken."

   Naomi's eyes again widened in shock as her jaw dropped open and her lips
pursed in an oval, both refusing to respond to her efforts to move them. 
She gagged as his member pushed over her tongue.  He immediately began to
hump violently into her face, the head of his cock punching brutally into
the back of her throat with each thrust.

   Arthur switched his attention to Alicia, who sat licking her lips as she
watched her Master's cock plunge in and out of Naomi's mouth, "Where are
your manners, Alicia?  It would only be polite to pleasure our generous
host."

   Alicia hesitated momentarily as she searched her Master's words for
hidden meaning or intent.  Finding none, she dropped to the floor and
wormed her head back between Naomi's thighs.  Once there she began to lap
at the woman's labia and swirl her tongue around the small pink lump that
hid Naomi's clit.  Concentrating, Alicia attempted to change her tongue, to
make it longer and thicker, but her ability in this area was lacking: if
her effort had resulted in any change, she was unable to discern it.  Using
her standard appendages, she tried her best to arouse the terrified woman,
but everything she did came to naught.

   Arthur's voice resonated from above her, "You know what to do, Alicia.
Just take care not to drain her."

   Alicia's face flushed slightly in embarrassment at having missed the
obvious solution.  Turning her head to the side, she sank her fangs into
the silken skin of Naomi's thigh.  Naomi squealed at the pain caused by the
piercing of her flesh and then moaned around the cock that continued to
violate her mouth.  The scent of Naomi's arousal, as well as her own,
filled Alicia's senses as she withdrew her teeth and licked daintily at the
wounds until they closed.  Turning her head she bit into the opposite thigh
with similar effect.

   After a few minutes, Arthur pulled his cock from Naomi's mouth and
relinquished control over her jaw.  Peering down at his enthusiastic
fledgling, he murmured, "That will be enough for now, Alicia." He grabbed a
handful of Naomi's hair, and forced her head back to peer curiously into
her watery, bloodshot eyes.  Another half smile twisted his lips as he
noticed that his thrusting pelvis had bloodied her nose.  Without another
word, Arthur turned and dragged the struggling, whimpering woman into the
bedroom.  At the side of the larger than king sized bed, he effortlessly
lifted the squealing woman by her hair from the floor and tossed her onto
the mattress.  She immediately scrambled to the bed's center, clutching her
knees protectively to her chest as she stared at him with fear and
loathing.

   Naomi's eyes never left Arthur as he removed his pants and folded them
carefully over one of the chairs in the room.  When he returned to the bed,
she attempted to avoid his grasping hands, but he was just too fast. 
Gripping her ankles tightly, he pulled her toward him until her hips were
flush with the edge of the bed.  His cock sank effortlessly into her cunt,
still moist from the pleasure that Alicia had forced upon her.  She sobbed
weakly as he plunged rapidly in and out of her depths.

   Arthur twisted around to look at Alicia.  "You may resume," he said
perfunctorily as he gestured toward Naomi's breasts, which jiggled with
each of his thrusts.

   In the manner of a cat stalking a mouse, Alicia crawled onto the bed. 
For a moment she hovered over the woman's quivering chest, licking her lips
lasciviously as she delighted in the scent of Naomi's terror.  Then, in a
frenzy, Alicia lunged downwards, sinking her fangs into the tender flesh of
Naomi's breasts again and again.

   As Naomi cried out in pain and pleasure, Arthur narrowed his eyes in
concentration.  A forlorn whimper came from Naomi's lips as she felt
something thin and wormlike begin thrashing around in the deepest part of
her vaginal canal.  The whimper rose in pitch and became a scream as the
tendril located the tiny entrance of her cervix and burrowed its way
inside.

   Once Arthur had fully penetrated the narrow entrance to Naomi's womb, he
focused his will to return his cock to its former thickness while retaining
its current length.  As her cervical passage was forced open, Naomi
screamed in agony, agony that was not mitigated in the slightest by the
involuntary orgasms that Alicia continued to inflict upon her.

   Arthur fucked the sobbing, whimpering Naomi with long, rapid strokes,
the head of his greatly lengthened erection forcing its way into her womb
with every thrust.  The heady scent of her suffering soon brought him to
the brink and he ground his loins against her upheld thighs as he erupted
directly into her womb.

   As soon as his climax faded, Arthur tore himself abruptly from Naomi's
channel, prompting her to scream yet again.  Arthur dismissed Alicia with a
gesture and then bent and whispered in Naomi's ear, "When morning comes, I
want you to tell the world that an evil stalks the night.  An evil that
glories in their pain and their fear and their suffering.  An evil that
lives by consuming their lives and which has no regard for mortal status,
wealth or position.  Tell them that no one is safe; that, in our eyes, all
of you are merely cattle to be consumed and cast aside.  Tell them this,
Naomi, or I will return for you, and next time I will not be so gentle."

   Arthur quickly dressed before returning to the bathroom for the make-up
artist's body.  As he dragged the corpse through the bedroom, he noted with
satisfaction that Naomi had curled into a sobbing fetal ball on the bed. 
She would remember, Arthur knew, and she would obey.  He began to exit the
room but suddenly stopped and turned to regard Naomi with narrowed eyes. 
"One more thing, Naomi.  Tell them that my name is Arthur, and that I am
not as easy to kill as the pathetic constabulary of this city had hoped."

   Exiting the suite, he casually tossed Tricia's body down the stairs
before jamming the steel stairwell door closed with an axe taken from an
emergency locker in the hall.  It would not long deter anyone who was able
to apply reason, but it would likely keep ferals off this floor.  He then
led Alicia to the elevator.  As they descended through the building, he
could feel little bubbles of primitive emotions form in his mind as the
first of his ferals awoke.  From the expression on Alicia's face and the
feel of her through their bond, he knew that she was experiencing the same.
Tonight there would be no attempt to bring them under control; left to
their own devices, they would serve his purpose perfectly.

   As they walked through the lobby, inhabited at this hour by only a few
oblivious hotel staff and several guests who had been out for a late night
on the town, Arthur slowed and then stopped.  With the ferals already
rising, there was no longer any reason to avoid drawing attention to the
hotel.  Quite the opposite in fact; if the place escaped notice until dawn,
the impact would be much reduced.  He began to draw looks from the staff as
he stared back and forth between them, his lips pursed in contemplation as
he decided their fate.  On some level, even their bored and tired minds
could sense the menace and malice of his intent.

   There was no point in turning these few who remained into ferals, Arthur
decided, dawn would come well before they could rise.  Arthur suddenly
recalled another of Lei's children who had walked the earth centuries
before Arthur had received the Gift.  One who had followed a similar path
to that which Arthur was on now and who had devised a unique method of
sowing fear among his enemies.  A method that had been so effective that
his name still lived on in dark myth and legend.  Yes, Arthur decided, it
would only be fitting to pay homage to his Wallachian brother as humanity
was again forced to acknowledge the terrifying reality that his kind walked
among them.

   Moments later the silence of the lobby was broken by agonized screams
and cries for mercy.  The screams continued on until well after Arthur and
his fledgling had departed.

   Chapter 22

   When Mia and Tom arrived at the hotel, they found the place completely
surrounded by black and whites.  Behind each of the vehicles, cops with
wide, frightened eyes squatted with their guns drawn.  Several portable
spotlights had been brought to the scene and their bright beams traced back
and forth across every face of the historic building.  As Tom and Mia drew
close, they could see that a bullet ridden body was lying on the sidewalk
in front of the shattered hotel entryway.

   In a combat crouch, Tom ran from the car to the side of the nearest
police officer.  Mia, remaining upright, followed at a far more sedate
pace, her eyes roving up and down the besieged building.

   Tom asked the officer, whose name tag proclaimed him to be "Rudowski,"
"What's the situation?"

   "Fucked if I know," Rudowski replied, his eyes never looking away from
the darkened hotel entrance, "We got a garbled radio message from some
patrolmen who had noticed that the lights were out in the lobby.  They
entered and reported some pretty horrible shit.  There were some shouts,
some gunfire, some screams, and then nothing."

   "Okay," Tom replied as he nodded toward the body on the sidewalk,
"What's the story on that guy?  Who shot him?"

   "That would be us, sir," Rudowski answered, "Problem is the bastard
won't stay down."

   Before Tom could ask another question, Mia crouched down next to him
and, in a hushed voice, said, "The place is teeming with ferals.  Hundreds
of them.  Their hunger is nearly overwhelming.  But, I can also sense fear.
There are still some survivors inside."

   There was a sudden flurry of activity as the body on the sidewalk began
to twitch and then rose to its knees.  Its face was that of an average,
middle aged man, but it looked around at the surrounding officers with a
snarl of hatred and rage, its lips pulled back to reveal elongated canines.
Immediately, gunfire broke out from across the line of police.  The feral's
body jerked violently as bullets tore through its flesh while stray shots
added to the damage that previous fusillades had inflicted upon the hotel
entryway.  The gunfire slowed and then ceased as clips were depleted and
the feral's body again slumped to the sidewalk.

   The undead had only been motionless for seconds when all eyes went
upwards at the sound of something heavy striking glass.  On roughly the
fifteenth floor, Tom could see one of the windows vibrate as someone or
something struck it repeatedly from within.  As they watched, the window
cracked and then shattered; shards of glass arching down to tinkle upon the
pavement.  A man's face appeared in the window and, in a voice filled with
horror, he shouted out for help before turning to face back into the room.
A lost and forlorn cry echoed out into the night as the man launched
himself from the opening.  In the intense beams of the spotlights which had
converged on the plummeting figure, Tom could see that the terror in the
man's features actually faded as he hurtled toward the pavement far below.

   Before the jumper had reached the sharp, sudden and fatal stop that
awaited him, two more forms launched themselves out from the building. 
Unlike the first man, these two showed no sign of fear.  Rather, their
limbs twisted and their mouths opened and closed spasmodically as they
continued to strive to reach the quarry that had resorted to such desperate
means to escape them.

   The sickening thuds of flesh striking concrete had not yet faded when
the two pushed themselves up from the ground.  As they rose, the massive
but bloodless lacerations that they had sustained in the fall closed shut
and their bent and broken limbs straightened as shattered bones popped back
into place.  Again the air was rent by the crack of small arms fire and the
figures were thrown to the ground by the impact of dozens, if not hundreds,
of bullets.

   Tom ran back to his car to retrieve his crossbow; in his confidence that
the crisis had been brought to an end, he hadn't bothered replacing the
improvised spears that been lost in the battle the night before.  He loaded
it as he ran in close enough to the downed ferals to be certain of a lethal
hit even with his meager skills.  He had fired bolts deeply into the chests
of the two vampiric jumpers when a shout warned him that the feral by the
entrance was rising again.  Tom scrambled backwards to clear the fields of
fire of his fellow policemen.  When the feral had again been put down by a
hail of bullets, Tom sprinted forward and fired a bolt into its chest from
point blank range to make certain that, this time, it would stay dead.

   Returning to Rudowski and Mia's side, Tom appropriated the officer's
radio and called out for his team to assemble at his location.  Within
minutes, all seven of the team members who were still healthy enough to
fight had gathered around him.  Tom knew that he could easily bolster the
thin ranks with volunteers from the large force that surrounded the hotel,
but, without appropriate weapons, they could only be a liability.  With
this in mind, he ordered that all but his team stay outside the hotel.

   When his men had readied their weapons, he led them forward toward the
hotel entrance.  Even with Mia's assistance, he knew that their odds
weren't good, but, with survivors still remaining in the building, they had
to try.

   At the entrance, they stopped for a few seconds while Mia probed ahead
with her extended senses.  When she announced that the lobby was clear of
ferals, they moved forward cautiously.  Each of their steps produced loud
crunching sounds as they ground bits of lead crystal from the fallen and
broken chandeliers beneath their feet.  They had only penetrated a few
yards when they heard the crunch of glass behind them.

   Turning, Tom saw that at least thirty uniformed officers had followed
them in.  Before Tom could protest, one of them said, "Look detective, we
know you told us to stay out of here, but you're going to get your asses
kicked with only nine of you." Brandishing his sidearm, he added, "We might
not be able to kill these things, but we can knock them down while you do."

   Tom reluctantly admitted that the man was right and gratefully accepted
the help.

   The group had penetrated a few yards farther into the darkened ruins of
the lobby when a number of the officers turned on their flashlights and
shined the beams around the cavernous room.  What the light revealed made
Tom's mind go numb with horror.  The central lobby had previously been
surrounded by elegant wooden railings, but the handrails had been torn off
and the majority of the posts, which were thick in the middle and tapered
to a point at each end, had been broken loose.  On each of the posts that
remained a body had been impaled, some face up, some face down and some
sitting unnaturally erect.  Almost all wore the colonial era costumes of
hotel staff.

   While those that were vertical had obviously died as the act was carried
out, the bloody hand prints on the posts that jutted through the bodies of
those who were horizontal showed that they had continued to live for some
time.  In many cases, there was evidence that they had died at the fangs
and hands of ferals rather than as a direct result of being impaled.

   Tom's team dispersed to check for life signs, but each of the men who
leaned down to touch a finger to a throat or wrist straightened quickly
with a sharp shake of the head.  What had been done here was an
abomination, but Tom knew that they couldn't linger when there might still
be living people above them.  As it was apparent that nothing could be done
for any of these hapless men and women, Tom motioned for his team to move
on.  With a few hastily muttered prayers, his group followed closely behind
him.  Only Mia stayed behind.  She walked quickly around the edge of the
lobby and gathered up the posts that had been knocked loose.

   Retaining two for herself, she distributed the rest among the police
officers with a muttered, "In case they should get too close."

   Once they had reached one of the stairwells, Mia pulled Tom aside.  "I
think our best hope of clearing this place is to split the group in two,
and send one to each stairwell," she told him, "Give me a radio.  I'll
clear each floor and call you when I'm done.  Then, each group can move up
to make sure nothing slips down the stairs behind us."

   Seeing the concern in his face, Mia said reassuringly, "I'll be fine. 
If I run into a group that I can't handle, I promise that I'll call you on
the radio.  Any other way and you're going to lose some men, maybe a lot of
men.  Trust me on this."

   His worries undiminished, Tom nevertheless nodded his agreement.  As Mia
ran up the steps, he deployed the men as she had suggested.

   Well over an hour later, Mia loped down the hallway of the seventeenth
floor.  The sleeves of her sweatshirt had been torn off and there were
long, bloody rents in her remaining clothing.  The railing posts, now worn
and splintered at the tips, were tucked into the back of her waistband. 
While she used them to deal the final blow to her fallen opponents, she
preferred to do the actual fighting with the claws of her changed hands and
the four inch chitinous spikes that now extended from her elbows.

   On the lower floors, almost half of the ferals had still been sealed in
the rooms in which they had been created; their simple minds unable to
grasp the concept of a door knob.  The higher she went, though, the more
she found doors that had been torn from their hinges, split in half or,
more rarely, shattered into splinters.  Many of the doors were broken
inwards, having failed to protect those who had huddled fearfully behind
them.

   She was grateful that there were far fewer ferals on the upper floors;
the rooms and suites here were much larger and had contained fewer people.
There was no way she would have been able to sustain the efforts that had
been required below; the seemingly endless battles and the wounds she had
suffered had taken their toll.  She was moving much slower now, and
maintaining the changes that she had made to herself, a normally effortless
exercise, took constant concentration.

   Mia rounded a corner and saw four ferals ahead of her, beating and
scraping at one of the few intact doors.  Pushing herself to the edge of
her current limits, she was amongst them before they could react to her
presence.  She lashed out with her claws and two of the ferals stumbled
backwards, eviscerated.  Dropping to a knee, she drove her arm back and
felt the spike on her elbow cut through another's diaphragm and lower
sternum to bite into its heart.  As she pulled the spike free, the last
uninjured feral lashed out at her.  She tried to avoid the flailing arm,
but she was too slow and staggered backwards as the blow landed heavily on
the side of her head.  While she was still reeling, it bent over double and
rushed at her, slamming her into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster
as it encircled her with arms like steel bands to pin her in place.

   Pleasure and pain pulsed through her as the beast started to gnaw at her
stomach.  With great effort she ripped her hands free of its encircling
grasp and, after lifting her arms above her head, drove the spikes on her
elbows down into its back and through its ribcage.  Her aim was thrown off
by an orgasmic spasm; instead of hitting the heart, the spikes only punched
into its lungs.  She rotated her arms to shred the delicate organs, but the
feral was barely inconvenienced; although she and Arthur had continued to
breathe after the Gift, it was more for the purpose of speech and out of
the ingrained habits of mortal life than because of any actual need.

   The front of her jeans became sodden with her own blood as the
creature's teeth tore ever deeper into her flesh.  In the fringes of her
dimming vision, she could see the ones that she had disemboweled regaining
their feet, their heads twisting to fix ravenous gazes upon her.  Pulling
the spikes free, she drove her knee sharply upwards.  She heard the feral's
ribs crack under the force of her blow, but it retained its hold on her. 
Desperate now, she slashed at its armpits and shoulders with her claws,
tearing through muscle and tendon alike.  Finally, its hold slackened and
she was able to reach the posts tucked into the back of her pants.

   She thrust one of the posts down through the back, ribs and heart of the
one who still held on to her tenaciously.  As it fell to the floor, she
lunged to the side to impale one of the ferals that she had eviscerated
earlier, leaving only one left standing.  As it ran at her with arms
outstretched, she dropped to the floor and swept out her leg, knocking it
from its feet.  Before it could recover, she pounced and grabbed it by the
chin and the back of its head.  With a twist, she snapped its neck,
immobilizing it at least for the moment.  Crawling back to the two that
were truly dead, she pulled her posts free and used them made certain that
none of the ferals would ever rise again.

   The battle over, she slumped against the wall, waiting for the final
orgasmic spasms induced by the bites to her stomach to fade.  Her
concentration faltered and the claws and spikes of her changed limbs
receded and vanished.  She tried to restore the changes, but could not. 
After several minutes, she pushed herself laboriously to her feet and
stumbled to the door that the ferals had been so eager to breach.  She
tried to extend her senses through it, but only succeeded in causing
herself mild vertigo.  Holding her hand to the lock plate, she concentrated
and, after several minutes of strenuous effort, was rewarded by the sound
of the bolt disengaging.

   She wondered if there were actually survivors in this suite.  There had
been so few so far.  Although it had been evident that more than a few
people had been left alive on each floor, most had succumbed quickly to the
ferals.  She pushed the door open and tried to call out, but all that
emerged was a feeble croak.  In the single bedroom of the suite she found a
man cowered against the wall farthest from the door.  The scent of his fear
permeated the room so strongly that it made Mia salivate and reminded her
of just how bland and unsatisfying the blood and life of the pig had been.
She waved for him to leave, but his only reaction was to curl into a
tighter ball.

   The sound of his racing heartbeat thundered in her ears, having an
almost hypnotic effect on her.  She stumbled toward him for a few steps
before she could make herself stop.  What was she doing?  She had as much
as promised Tom that she would now live only on animals.  That promise had,
in a sense, been the price of her redemption.  It had enabled her to leave
her old life of suffering and hatred behind to be reborn into a new
existence filled with far gentler emotions.  Could Tom's feelings for her
withstand the disappointment he would feel if he knew that she had given in
to the hunger and taken another human life?  She had her doubts.

   But, a darker side of her argued, unless she fed, she could not fight
again tonight, and more lives than one might depend on her ability to do
so. Besides, with all the carnage in the hotel, no one need ever know that
this one man hadn't been drained by whoever had created the ferals or the
ferals themselves.

   As she struggled to hold her hunger at bay, her eyes locked on his
throat and the throbbing of his carotids.  She moaned weakly as he exuded a
fresh waft of fear scent that assailed her senses.  She could hear the
man's heart began to race even faster as her fangs slid into place.

   Chapter 23

   The following morning, Tom struggled out of bed at eleven.  Limping his
way to the bathroom, he looked with dismay at his reflection in the mirror.
The lack of sleep and unusual levels of physical exertion were beginning to
show; there were large, dark circles under his eyes, his skin had a rather
unhealthy pallor and the lines around his eyes and mouth looked deeper than
ever.  Looking closer, he thought he could even see a little more grey in
his hair than he remembered.  All in all, he decided, he looked exactly how
he felt, haggard and worn out.

   They hadn't finished clearing the William Penn Hotel until barely a half
hour before dawn.  Although it would probably be more fair to say that Mia
hadn't finished clearing it until then.  Combined, his two groups of police
officers had only taken down a total of three ferals after they had started
their ascent of the hotel.

   By the time they had finished, a crew led by Chief Jacobs himself was
clearing the bodies from the lobby.  After a few words, the Chief had
released Tom and Mia to go home before the sun breached the horizon.  The
Chief had insisted, however, that Tom be in his office at noon.

   Tom showered quickly and returned to his bedroom to dress and check on
Mia.  He couldn't help but worry about her; based on the state of her
clothing at the end of the night, the ferals had given her quite a beating.
After she had fallen dormant into his arms mere seconds after they had
entered the apartment, he had stripped the rags from her body and wiped the
dried and crusted blood and gore from her with a sponge.  Her skin, of
course, had shown no signs of damage, but the fact that she had not
bothered to repair or clean her clothing spoke volumes about what the night
had cost her.  Her demeanor had been decidedly different, as well.  As they
exited the building and drove home, she had been subdued and withdrawn,
staring down at the floor of the car in sullen silence.  He decided that he
would have to give Peter a call during the day to see if there would be an
animal available tonight.

   For all that the night had cost her, the returns had been so small.  Out
of more than a thousand guests and staff, only nine survivors had been
recovered and one of those, found in the Presidential Suite, had been
completely catatonic.  Idly, he wondered if they should have just waited
for the sun to do the work for them.  But no, in that scenario there
wouldn't have been anyone left alive in the hotel and even if nine was
horrifyingly disappointing, it was still better than none.

   After making certain that Mia was well covered, Tom drove to the
station. When Tom arrived, Chief Jacobs was sitting at his desk with a
cigarette dangling from his lips, tapping slowly at his keyboard with a
single finger.  His desk was littered with a badly stained, mostly empty
coffee mug, a pizza delivery box and, despite the no smoking signs
displayed prominently throughout the building, an overflowing ashtray.  The
Chief looked up from his computer monitor when Tom rapped softly on the
door frame and, stubbing his latest butt out in the ashtray, motioned Tom
in.

   Without preamble, the Chief waved a remote control toward a small
television and DVR that were precariously balanced on one of the chairs in
the room and said, "This went out on every NBC affiliate first thing this
morning."

   The video showed a number of people racing down a hotel hallway towards
whoever was holding the camera.  As they drew near, the cameraman
apparently realized the danger he was in.  The picture shifted as the man
rotated the camera to face behind him and then bounced violently as he
started running for his life.  The video was still clear enough to show his
pursuers, their lips peeled back from long, sharp teeth, overtaking him.  A
grasping hand filled the screen and then the picture went black.

   "That's all they showed on tv," the Chief commented, "but the unedited
footage is all over the internet."

   Chief Jacobs twisted his computer monitor around until it was facing Tom
and pushed a few keys on the keyboard.  The Chief had cued the clip so that
the raw footage picked up where the broadcast version had cut off.  The
picture was chaotic as the camera spun down the hallway floor but grew
steady as the camera settled on its side.  The people, a prominent Fox News
reporter among them, were holding the helpless cameraman to the floor,
tearing at him with hands and teeth as their hips humped convulsively. 
They continued to bite into him over and over again even after his
struggles had ceased.  When the ferals finally rose and ran off screen, the
time index in the bottom corner of the video sped up and, for a few
seconds, the video showed only an occasional blur of legs running past. 
The time index then slowed to normal speed as a pair of very feminine legs
appeared on the screen.  The legs, which were moving inhumanly fast, slowed
very slightly as they passed the cameraman's body and then bent as the
figure drove a railing post through the body's heart.  The post was torn
free and the woman continued off screen.  Tom was grateful that Mia hadn't
stooped low enough for the camera to catch her face.

   Turning again toward the television, the Chief pushed a few buttons on
the remote as he said, "This went out on CNN and a number of associated
channels."

   Unlike the first, this clip had audio.  It started with the cameraman
complaining about all the noise and promising to show what reporters really
did after hours.  The picture shifted back and forth as the camera was
carried at hip level out into the hallway.  After a whispered, "What the
fuck...," the camera was lifted to a shoulder and showed several doors
shuddering under thunderous blows from within.  With a loud crack one of
the doors burst outward in a shower of splinters.  Two men and a woman, all
three naked, leapt out into the hallway and one of the men threw back his
head to scream with primal rage, an act which revealed his fangs.  Tom
couldn't recall the woman's name, but he recognized her from one of the
morning news shows.  The clip quickly came to an end very similar to that
of the first.

   The Chief leaned back and rubbed his temples with a sigh, "I suppose
we're lucky that these were the only two cameramen who established a
satellite uplink before they started filming.  A number of other cameras
were recovered from the building when we started to clean-up this morning.
Their owners are clamoring for us to release their property, but I've been
holding them off with claims that we need to retain all evidence of the
crimes that occurred until the investigation is complete."

   The Chief tilted his head up to look at Tom with grim, bloodshot eyes,
"There's even worse news.  All morning I've had a number of people at the
hotel counting bodies and looking over hotel records.  We're missing close
to two hundred people.  While I'm sure some of them just spent the night
elsewhere, that certainly doesn't account for all of them.  A lot of those
fucking monsters got loose before we got the building sealed off.  Once
outside, they apparently acted pretty much the same way as they did in
those video clips.  Fortunately, the streets are pretty empty in the wee
hours, but we've already had twenty-eight bodies show up, all pretty
gruesomely..."

   The Chief was interrupted by the ringing of the phone on his desk.  He
answered and listened for a few seconds before again waving the remote at
the television.  After the channel's "live, breaking news" preamble, a view
of a hospital room filled the screen.  Tom immediately recognized the
catatonic woman they had found in the Presidential Suite.  She was sitting
semireclined in the hospital bed, covered to her hips with a blanket and
wearing a hospital gown above.  Her face, which bore not a hint of makeup,
was pale and her hair was in wild disarray.  Uncontrollable shivers wracked
her body as she recounted what her attackers had done to her and her
assistants and recited the message that she had been given.  The more she
spoke, the farther Tom's jaw dropped in shock.

   When she was finished, Chief Jacobs turned to look questioningly at Tom.

   Tom shrugged helplessly in response, "I don't know what to tell you,
Denny.  The female attacker is almost certainly Alicia George, our missing
bartender.  I just can't believe that it was Arthur who was with her.  It
just isn't possible.  I saw Dana kill him.  Hell, I helped burn his body.
Mia confirmed that her bond is gone..."

   When Tom's voice died off into silence, the Chief pulled a pack of
Marlboro Reds from his shirt pocket and shook one out.

   As Denny groped his pockets looking for his lighter, Tom asked quietly,
"Got an extra one of those?"

   Denny shot him an curious look, "I thought you quit."

   "I did, but now seems like a really good time to start again."

   The men sat smoking in silence, both trying to come to grips with the
fact that the disaster that they thought had been averted was apparently
only beginning.  Before they had managed to do so, three men in suits
strode into the room, not bothering with the courtesy of knocking.

   The one in the lead waved his hand distastefully through the smoke that
hung in the air before speaking, "I'm Agent Roper, FBI." Gesturing in turn
to each of the men behind him, he continued, "This is Dr.  Nolan, CDC, and
Agent Keller, Homeland Security."

   Without giving Tom or Denny the opportunity to introduce themselves or
offering a handshake, Agent Roper went on, "With everyone calling their
loved ones, communications to and from this city are such a mess that you
probably haven't heard yet, but an hour ago the Governor of Pennsylvania
declared Pittsburgh to be an emergency disaster area and asked for federal
assistance.  After looking over the news reports, the President agreed.

   "Part of their agreement is that federal agencies will have complete
operational jurisdiction over all matters related to the emergency.  With
the assistance of several National Guard units, we have already placed
roadblocks on every access point to the city.  No one is to be allowed in
or out.  This city has been officially quarantined until we can bring the
outbreak under control."

   Sputtering, Tom interrupted, "Agent Roper, with all due respect, this
isn't a disease we're dealing with!  Haven't you been watching the news? 
There are vampires out there, and if you just treat them like they're
sick..."

   Agent Roper sneered at Tom with contempt, but it was Dr.  Nolan who
interrupted, "Officer, we are not living in the sixteenth century.  We do
not have time for ridiculous superstition.  While the disease may cause
delusions and certain physiological effects, it is most certainly only a
disease."

   Undeterred, Tom broke in, "No.  I know how crazy it sounds, but they are
vampires.  If you're going to have any chance of fighting them you..."

   Agent Roper cut him off, "Enough!  I understand that you've all had a
stressful night, but, if you persist, I will have you taken away for a
psych evaluation and fitness for duty exam.  Now, as I was saying, the
President does not want to destroy the local economy or deprive the people
of this city of essential goods and services.  However, given the massive
and sudden outbreak and the effects of the disease, it is apparent that the
disease must be contained at any cost.

   "Transfer points are being established at the checkpoints on each major
highway feeding into the city.  All commercial traffic carrying anything
but foodstuffs and medical supplies will be turned away.  Food and medicine
will be seized and transferred to decontaminated trucks operated by the
National Guard for transport into the city.  The food and drink will be
taken to multiple distribution points within the city.  Medicine will be
split among the city's hospitals.  Travel within the confines of the city
will be limited to the closest distribution point and the closest hospital.
All businesses will remain closed for the duration.

   "I will need whichever of you is the chief to give my men access to your
duty rosters and contact information.  All of your officers are relieved of
standard duties for the duration of the crisis.  Instead they will first
help spread word of the travel restrictions and distribution centers and
then they will assist us in enforcing the restrictions."

   Chief Jacobs glared at the federal agent, "And what, exactly, are you
planning on doing to anyone who defies the restrictions?"

   Agent Roper replied dispassionately, "They will be detained and confined
until such time as we develop an accurate test for the presence of the
disease.  Once they are proven to be disease free they will be released
with a fine.  A hefty fine."

   Still unwilling to concede, Tom broke in, "Expose them to sunlight.  If
they survive, they aren't vampires.  You should also just let anyone who is
trying to leave in daylight go, the fewer people there are in the..."

   Agent Roper again interrupted, "What's your name?"

   "Tom McNelly."

   Agent Roper pulled a scratch pad from his inner coat pocket and made a
show of writing down Tom's name, "Officer McNelly, you are hereby relieved
of duty until this crisis is over.  Please leave now and return to your
home.  Just so there is no mistake, you are subject to the same
restrictions and consequences for violating them as anyone else."

   Chief Jacobs' face had been growing increasing red with anger throughout
Agent Roper's speech and now he exploded, "Look, I don't know who you think
you are, but I have most of my men searching for the people that got out of
the hotel last night before we got the place secured.  That duty is so
important that I am not about to pull them from it to go around telling
people about your idiotic restrictions.  Furthermore, Tom is one of my best
detectives and I need him here..."

   Agent Roper, as calm as ever, cut the Chief off, "Make no mistake, Chief
Jacobs, the terms that I just gave you are not negotiable.  They are part
of a exhaustive plan designed by people much smarter than you to deal with
circumstances just like this.  As I mentioned earlier, federal agencies
have been given complete operational jurisdiction over this city.  That
means that your one and only duty from now until this situation has been
resolved is to cooperate with us and ensure that your people do likewise.
That is all."

   As abruptly as they had arrived, the feds left the room.  Denny and Tom
stared at each other for a minute before the Chief blew out a mouth full of
air and said quietly, "Well, they didn't say the words, but the city is now
under martial law.  They'll come to their senses eventually.  Federal
agents may be arrogant, but they aren't stupid.  In the meantime, I suggest
that you do what Roper told you to do.  I would hate to see you
indefinitely detained and confined."

   As Tom drove back to his apartment, he saw that there were already small
groups of soldiers, policemen and federal agents deploying throughout the
city.  Silently, he wished them luck.  Unless he missed his guess, they
would need it once night fell.

   A few blocks from his destination, he noticed a convenience store that
was still open; word of the new restrictions apparently hadn't spread
completely yet.  Tom stopped and bought a carton of cigarettes.

   Chapter 24

   Once back at his apartment, Tom had no idea what to do with himself. 
Part of him was relieved that all responsibility had been torn from his
shoulders, but, even more, he was worried that the feds, with their refusal
to accept the impossible truth, were really going to fuck things up and get
a lot of people killed.

   He rooted around in his kitchen drawers until he found a long abandoned
ashtray, and then, lighting a smoke, he settled on the couch to watch the
news.  The only thing new that he learned was that the feds weren't
implementing one plan, as Agent Roper had said, but a combination of two;
one designed for containment after a biological weapon attack and the other
designed to deal with a widespread dispersion of hallucinogenics, like PCP
or LSD.  Every federal authority that was interviewed persisted with the
view that this was merely the outbreak of a disease.

   Frustrated, Tom flicked the television off and unsealed and opened one
of his windows to peer outside.  It was obvious that the city's population
was attempting a mass exodus: every road in sight that could potentially
lead out of the city was jammed with cars, bikes, and pedestrians.  Even
from the great distance that lay between him and the first checkpoint, he
could hear the cries of anger and fear as all were turned back.  His vigil
was constantly interrupted by frequent telephone calls from friends and
coworkers who had heard of his ignominious suspension and wished to offer
words of sympathy.  He bore the first twenty or so with good humor, but,
eventually, was compelled to shut off his cell phone and turn the ringer
off on his land line.

   He watched his city devolve into chaos for more than an hour before he
could no longer bear it.  After resealing the window, he wandered back to
his bedroom to seek the comfort that Mia, even in her dormant state, could
offer.

   A number of hours later, his slumber was disturbed by a loud rapping at
his apartment door.  Grumbling, he rolled out of bed to go answer it.  He
was taken aback by the unexpected figure that greeted him when he pulled it
open.  He barely recognized her in jeans and a Pittsburgh PD t-shirt
instead of a uniform, and with her brunette hair, normally pulled tightly
back into a bun, falling in soft waves to her shoulders.

   "Hello, Dana," he greeted her, "I'm surprised to see you up and about."

   The pretty, young woman shifted nervously from foot to foot as she
timidly answered, "Hi, Tom.  The hospital discharged everyone who lives in
the city and isn't in critical condition to make room for the poor suckers
who got trapped here by our esteemed federal government.  Um, can I come
in?"

   Nonplused, Tom moved aside to allow her entrance.  He closed and locked
the door behind her and led her to the living room where he waved her
towards one of the chairs.

   "So, what brings you here?" he ventured.

   She was silent for a moment, and he could see a slight flush of
embarrassment appear on her face.  "I've always thought of myself as tough.
You have to be if you want to be a woman in blue.  But the other night, I
put a crossbow bolt right through that thing's throat and it didn't even
notice.  It just brushed me away like I was nothing more than a bug.  One
second I was fine and the next...  Well, I thought for sure I was going to
die." Dana's voice trailed off as she began to shiver.  Clutching her arms
tightly around her chest, she continued in a tiny voice, "I'm scared, Tom.
More afraid then I've ever been.  Even as a kid, I was never afraid of the
dark or monsters under the bed.  But now...  Now, I know that monsters are
real, and I just can't stop shaking.

   "I heard about what happened last night and I can see what's going on.
Every night the attacks get more daring, more vicious.  I have the feeling
that tonight is going to be bad.  All my family and friends live outside
the city and I don't want to be alone.  Not tonight.  I thought that the
safest place to be would be here, with Mia."

   Her eyes darted up to meet his and he could see them widen slightly as
she realized that she had made a possible faux pas.  "And you, of course,"
she added hastily.

   Tom couldn't help but laugh.  "It's ok, I would feel safer with Mia than
me, too," he replied reassuringly, "And, of course, you can stay here with
us."

   "Thanks, Tom," she said with a smile.

   Rising to his feet, Tom replied, "No problem.  Now, not to change the
subject, but I'm starving.  Shall I make enough for two?" Without waiting
for a response, he walked to the kitchen and began searching through his
fridge.

   "Sure, I could eat," Dana said as she rose to assist him.

   After they finished supper, which, thanks to Dana's help, was mostly
edible, Tom checked his watch and realized that the official sunset was
only minutes away.

   "Mia should be waking up pretty soon.  I'll be right back," he told
Dana.

   Tom was lying on his side next to Mia with his head propped up on a hand
when she came awake.  "Hey, you," he whispered softly as he leaned over to
give her a light kiss on the lips.

   "Hi," she replied with a strained smile.

   Rubbing a hand gently up and down her flank, Tom said worriedly, "I know
last night cost you a lot.  I had intended to call Peter today to get you
something to eat, but there's been a rather nasty development.  The feds
have closed off the city.  No one can get in or out.  I'm so sorry.  Are
you going to be ok?"

   "Yes, I'll be fine, but thanks for thinking about me," Mia replied, a
tinge of sorrow in her voice.  She was considering coming clean and telling
him that she had fed when his next words drove away all other thought.

   "Remember that woman you found in the Presidential Suite, the one that
was basically comatose?  Well, I truly hate to tell you this, but earlier
today she came to and said that it was Arthur who was responsible for all
that happened.  She said that he had left her alive to tell the world that
there were vampires among us, him in particular."

   Tom had known the news was bad, but he was still startled by the naked
fear that appeared on her face.  She flung herself into his arms and clung
to him fiercely.  For several minutes he held her close until her shivers
began to subside.

   Visibly steeling herself, Mia muttered into Tom's shoulder, "I knew he
had gone down too easily, but he can't still be alive.  The bond is gone! I
saw him die!  But...if he is, we have to go out and find him.  If we don't
fight..."

   "There are well armed men all over the city and they're the only ones
really allowed to be outside.  If we go out, we're just as likely to get
shot as he is," Tom interrupted, "As much as I hate to say it, we're
essentially prisoners in this apartment, at least for tonight.  Hopefully,
by tomorrow, they'll be ready to listen to reason."

   Mia sighed deeply, noticing as she did so that there was a hint of light
floral perfume in the air.  Pulling back from Tom's embrace, she asked, "Is
there someone else here?"

   "Oh.  Yeah.  I almost forgot.  Dana's out in the living room.  Poor
thing's scared to death and wanted to be near you in case things get ugly."

   Mia asked incredulously, "Me?"

   "That's what she said," Tom replied before adding mischievously, "I
guess that special moment the two of you shared made quite an impression on
her."

   Mia punched him lightly on the shoulder, "Pig.  Why don't you go keep
her company.  I'm going to take a quick shower and then I'll join you."

   Twenty minutes later, Mia, her hair hanging loose and damp around her
shoulders, walked into the living room in an oversized t-shirt and a pair
of Tom's sweat pants.  "I'm feeling a bit frumpy tonight," she said by way
of explanation when she saw Tom grin at her attire.

   Tom and Dana had unsealed and opened the living room window.  Tom sat on
the edge of the couch and peered out into the street, his crossbow loaded
and ready in his lap.  Dana sat nervously at the other end of the couch,
the scent of her fear mixing strangely with her flowery perfume.  Mia
greeted both with a hug and a smile.  As Mia plopped onto the couch between
them, the sound of automatic weapon fire echoed across the city.

   "I guess some of the escapees managed to find a place to hide for the
day," Tom commented glumly.

   For more than an hour, the three sat mostly in silence; the nearly
continuous crack of gunfire and the occasional scream forestalled any
potential conversation.  Tom and Dana had each taken one of Mia's hands,
their grips tightening each time the silence outside was broken.  A sudden
scream sounded from no farther than the end of the block.  Tom jumped up
and leaned out the window, bringing the crossbow to his shoulder as he
sought a target.  But, a dense fog shrouded the street and he could see
nothing through it.

   Dana twisted on the couch and buried her face in Mia's chest with a
whimper.  Mia looked down at the woman with astonishment; being perceived
as a source of comfort instead of fear felt decidedly odd.  Hesitantly, Mia
brought her arms up to encircle Dana, prompting the distraught woman to
clutch to Mia even more tightly.  It suddenly struck Mia just how young the
woman was; certainly no more than twenty or, maybe, a year older.  As Dana
continued to tremble in her arms, maternal instincts, which had never
before had the opportunity to be expressed, blossomed within Mia's chest.
She enfolded Dana more firmly into her embrace and laid her cheek upon the
top of the girl's head.  Mia whispered reassurances into the terrified
woman's ear and gently rubbed her back until Dana's shivers eased.

   Dana continued to press herself into Mia for a moment and then slowly
pulled back.  "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes averted in embarrassment.

   By way of response, Mia smiled softly and smoothed several wayward locks
of hair back from Dana's face with gentle fingers.  At Mia's touch, so
similar to that which Dana recalled from the time when she had laid wounded
on the wet, cold floor of the jail, the girl's brown eyes rose to meet
Mia's blue ones.

   Mia saw Dana's pupils dilate slightly before the girl darted forward to
press her lips lightly against Mia's.  Instantly, Dana retreated and peered
shyly at the other woman through lowered lashes.  When Mia made no
objection, Dana again brought her mouth to Mia's, moving much slower this
time, her lips parting slightly as she drew near.

   Mia returned the kiss gently while lightly probing Dana's surface
thoughts.  She discovered that the girl was reeling from witnessing so much
death over such a short period of time and from coming so close to that
state herself.  This overture was, at least in part, an act of defiance
against all that the girl had experienced in the past few days; a
refutation of death and an affirmation of life.  Mia also learned that,
ever since she had preserved the girl's life, Dana had come to see her as a
guardian; a bastion of safety in a world that had suddenly gone mad. 
Lastly, Mia learned that Dana had become fixated on the pleasure she had
experienced at the touch of Mia's tongue and the passion of the subsequent
kiss.  Dana believed that both were the product of some deep emotional tie
that she hadn't been able to acknowledge until that moment.  This belief
was so central to the girl's tenuous efforts to keep the overwhelming
terror she felt at bay, that Mia couldn't bring herself to disillusion her,
to tell her that it had only been a biochemical reaction initiated by a
property of vampiric saliva.  Mia also couldn't bring herself to refuse to
give Dana what she wanted.  As Dana's tongue brushed softly over her lips,
Mia admitted to herself that, even if she could, she wouldn't want to.

   Their kisses grew longer and more heated.  Dana shifted until she was
straddling Mia's hips.  As their tongues intertwined, Mia peeked over at
Tom out of the corner of her eye.  He was staring at them with open mouthed
astonishment.  His crossbow hung limply at his side, whatever lurked beyond
the window long forgotten.  The scent of his lust was so strong that Mia
had to suppress a giggle.  Mia again probed into Dana's mind and discovered
that she found Tom attractive, albeit a little old.  The attraction was
strong enough that she wouldn't object to his participation.

   Mia felt Dana's hand run lightly up her side before coming to rest
cupping one of her breasts.  Without breaking the kiss, Mia slid her hands
down to cup Dana's muscular buttocks and then stood.  Dana wrapped her legs
around Mia's waist as she was carried back to the bedroom.  Just before
they vanished from sight, Mia broke the kiss for an instant to beckon Tom
to follow with a wink and a small jerk of her head.  Again she had to
suppress a giggle at the look of eagerness that appeared on his face.

   Mia put Dana on her feet at the side of the bed and the two feverishly
pulled the clothes from the other's body, breaking their kiss only to pull
the shirts off over their heads.  Once they were nude, Mia eased Dana down
to the bed.  Dana sighed and cooed as Mia licked and nibbled her way down
the girl's body, lingering for a long moment on the small breasts and the
hard, brown nipples that capped them.  As Mia resumed her descent, kissing
a path down Dana's toned stomach, the girl parted her legs widely in eager
anticipation.

   When Mia reached the juncture of Dana's thighs, she regarded the girl's
sex with avid interest.  It was absolutely beautiful, Mia decided, with
thick, puffy labial lips that were the lightest shade of pink at the edges
but grew darker in color closer to the center.  At the top, the tiniest
button of a clit, an even lighter shade of pink than the edges of the
labia, peaked ever-so-slightly from its hood.  The lips were parted with
arousal and the whole glistened wetly.  The scent of the girl's excitement
was strong in the air, and Mia could feel herself growing increasingly
moist in response.

   Experimentally, Mia ran her tongue between the lips of Dana's pussy,
getting her first taste of this part of another woman.  To her delight,
Dana was delicious.  With a soft moan, Mia dove in with wild abandon,
licking and sucking the juices from the lips before delving her tongue deep
inside Dana's tight tunnel.  Dana threw back her head with a guttural moan
as Mia's tongue grew within her, filling her as completely as any cock she
had ever experienced.  Except that a cock had never wriggled around in her
depths, lovingly caressing every inner surface, ridge and fold.

   As Mia continued to plumb Dana's depths, she felt Tom's hands on her
hips, urging her upwards.  She eagerly complied and was rewarded by the
touch of his tongue and lips to her clit.  After Dana had moaned her way
through several orgasms, her tight pussy squeezing tightly down on the
tongue that penetrated her so completely, Mia changed her tongue back to
normal size and crawled up Dana's body.  On the way, she reveled in the
sensuous feeling of a woman's soft skin sliding against her own.  When Mia
reached her destination, Dana fervently pressed her lips to Mia's, her
tongue darting out to lap her own juices from Mia's face.

   The kiss went on and on, until Dana pulled back.  Panting with lust, she
whispered, "I want to taste you now."

   At the other woman's urging, Mia willingly rolled over onto her back. 
As Dana started to follow Mia's lead by kissing her way down Mia's body,
Mia stopped her with a gentle touch



   "Turn around the other way, so I can keep tasting you," she murmured.

   Her eyes gleaming with excitement, Dana quickly straddled Mia's head and
then leaned forward.  She ran her finger up and down the length of Mia's
slit a few times, marveling at the incredibly silky smooth feel of the
other woman's sex, before lowering her head to take Mia's clit between her
lips.  Unlike Mia, this was not the first time that Dana had tasted the
essence of another woman, but familiarity did not diminish her enjoyment.

   Mia peeked over the firm, tight globes of Dana's ass cheeks and saw that
Tom, now naked, was sitting on the edge of the bed watching the scene with
lust glazed eyes.  It was obvious that he wanted to join in, but, at the
same time, didn't want to disturb the erotic visage before him.  She
beckoned him with a finger and, when he leaned close, curled a hand around
his neck to pull him in for a kiss.  She then gently guided his head until
he was facing Dana's dripping sex.

   "Isn't she beautiful?" Mia whispered.

   "Mmmhmmm," Tom replied blissfully.

   "Taste her," Mia commanded softly.

   Tom eased his head forward until he could run his tongue between the
soft, swollen lips of Dana's pussy, lapping up the copious juices.

   "Isn't she delicious?" Mia asked, before hastily adding, "Don't answer,
just keep licking."

   As Tom eagerly complied, Mia again caused her tongue to lengthen until
she could reach Dana's clit with the tip.  She flicked her tongue rapidly
but lightly over the tiny button as Tom continued to lap at Dana's lips and
swirl his tongue just inside the entrance of her pussy.  Under their dual
assault, Dana quivered and shook continuously, loudly moaning out in
pleasure.  When the girl could take no more, Tom disengaged and twisted his
head until he could suck the end of Mia's tongue into his mouth.  He
continued to suck gently as Mia reversed the change, following the
shortening appendage down until his lips met hers.

   Mia kissed him passionately for a moment, and then breathily instructed,
"Give it to her.  She needs it." With a languorous smile she added, "But
you better save some for me."

   Tom straightened and positioned himself behind the girl, straddling
Mia's head.  He watched as Mia slowly pumped two fingers deeply into Dana's
pussy.  She withdrew them slowly and spread them, opening Dana's lips wide
to obscenely expose the wet, pink entrance at their center.  With her other
hand, she grasped Tom's throbbing erection and guided it forward until the
head vanished between the widely splayed lips.

   Mia withdrew her hands and ran them along the outside of Tom's thighs to
his ass.  There, she applied gentle pressure, urging him forward.  Tom
needed no such encouragement.  With a deep sigh of pleasure, he drove
slowly but relentlessly into the incredibly tight, hot depths of Dana's
cunt until his loins met the prettily upthrust cheeks of her ass.  He held
himself there for a few seconds, and then quickly settled into a steady
rhythm.

   Dana threw her head back with a groan.  "Oh God!" she cried out, "I
haven't had a cock in so long!  Fuck me harder!  Deeper!"

   From below the point of their union, Mia watched excitedly as her
lover's member plunged rapidly in and out of Dana's clenching tunnel.  For
the third time that night, she caused her tongue to change and it snaked
out to alternately flick over Dana's clit and curl around the place of
their joining to collect the sweet mixture of Dana's juices and Tom's
pre-seminal fluid.  After each such foray, she pulled her tongue back into
her mouth to suck it clean

   This continued for quite some time, until Mia's eyes widened as a
naughty idea occurred to her.  As her tongue curled again around Dana's
labial lips and the base of Tom's cock, it suddenly grew thinner, wider and
longer and then dove into the girl along the underside of Tom's manhood. 
Mia's tongue rippled continuously with change as she varied its length to
move it in and out of Dana's pussy in counterpoint to Tom's thrusts.  Tom
moaned deeply as Mia's tongue squeezed into the already tight tunnel below
his driving length, its tip flicking up over the head of his cock each time
the two passed each other in Dana's depths.  Dana's head came up as she let
out a delighted squeal.  Her tunnel immediately began to contract
rhythmically around the two invaders as she was lost in the throes of yet
another orgasm.

   It took only a few minutes of this before Mia felt Tom's cock seemingly
become harder along the top of her tongue and saw his balls tighten. 
Seconds later, Tom erupted, shooting spurt after spurt of his hot seed deep
inside Dana's quivering body.  Panting, he gripped the girl's hips tightly
as he held himself motionless in her depths.  Small shivers passed through
his body as Mia's tongue continued to slide up and down the underside of
his hypersensitized cock.

   With a deep, contented sigh, he finally withdrew and collapsed on the
bed alongside Mia.  The second he was free, Mia raised her head to bring
her lips to Dana's pussy.  Her elongated tongue continued to plumb the
girl's depths, lapping up her lover's cum.  When she, too, withdrew, Dana,
no longer burdened by distractions, returned to her own task with a
vengeance, sucking lightly on Mia's clit while driving a finger deeply into
Mia's wet pussy.  It was only a matter of minutes before Mia cried out with
her own release.

   Dana turned around and lowered herself to the bed on the opposite side
of Mia from Tom.  "Wow," she said dreamily, "that was one of the weirdest
and best things that I have ever felt."



   The trio rested for a few minutes while enjoying a soft three way kiss
and then Mia pushed Tom over onto his back.  She lowered her head to his
hips and took his mostly soft cock into her mouth, savoring the flavor of
the juices that still coated it even as she did her best to bring it back
to life.  With a light giggle, Dana crawled over to assist her by flicking
the end of her tongue over his balls.  Their efforts soon paid off and Mia
felt his manhood become longer, thicker and harder until it filled her
mouth.

   Mia popped Tom's cock from her mouth with a final wet slurp and
swivelled around to mount him.  Dana scrambled out of the way to give Mia
room.  Once Mia had her lover's cock buried deeply within her, Dana slid
back in close to suck on Mia's nipples and gently rub a finger around her
clit.

   Mia rode Tom long and slow.  With Dana's eager assistance, her body had
quivered through several drawn out orgasms before she felt liquid warmth
splashing against the walls of her pussy as Tom reached his climax.  She
laid down on top of him, her eyes twinkling with merriment at the look of
exhausted ecstacy on his face.  They kissed deeply for a moment before they
each extended an arm to Dana to invite her to join in their embrace.  The
three cuddled and caressed each other laguidly until Mia rolled off of Tom
and onto her back.  With a happy sigh, she wrapped an arm loosely around
each of her lovers as they nestled up against her from either side.

   Chapter 25

   Arthur came awake with a shudder.  The throbbing of his head and the
malaise that gripped his body brought back dim recollections of the
hangovers he had suffered as a mortal.  He had nearly made a grievous error
the previous night.  The emotional feedback from his bond to hundreds of
ferals had very nearly overwhelmed him.  In fact, he almost certainly would
have succumbed to the rage, hate and, above all else, hunger that had beat
relentlessly at his mind, if the ferals had not started to die off rapidly.
Such a complete loss of control, the extinction of intellect and reason,
could have been more than simply dangerous.  Even now he could feel that
rage, that hunger, begin to pulse anew as his remaining ferals rose to hunt
again.  They were mercifully few now, certainly well less than a hundred.
This he could endure.

   Throwing back the tarp that now served as his final protection against
the sun, he pushed himself shakily from the dingy basement floor.  He
decided that he would soon need to replace the caskets that had been lost
in the aftermath of his first battle with the authorities; his current
sleeping arrangements were...undignified.

   With something akin to guilt, Arthur examined his bond to Alicia which
revealed that she, much like himself, was experiencing some pain and that
she was desperately struggling to resist the primal emotions which were
even now assailing her rational mind.  Last night, his fledgling had not
been strong enough to resist the seductive call of the ferals and had
reverted to a primitive beast-like state.  Keeping her under control while
fighting tenaciously to hold on to his own sanity had proven to be most
difficult.

   He pulled the tarp back from her body, but she continued to lie
motionless, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.  He stood gazing at her for a
long moment.  She had again pleasantly surprised him during the carnage of
the night before.  It seemed that she enjoyed causing pain even more than
receiving it.  Even he had been impressed with the imaginative ways in
which she had inflicted suffering upon their victims in the exceedingly
short time that they could spare on any single individual.

   Finally, he bent to brush the hair back from her face with a gentle
finger, "Alicia?"

   With a whimper, she whined, "I can still feel them, Master.  I don't
want to lose myself again."

   Unexpectedly, pity welled up from some long forgotten corner of Arthur's
soul.  "Sit up, child," he told her softly as he lowered himself to sit on
the floor next to her.  "I want you to focus on a single knot of emotions
to the exclusion of all else and then repeat after me."

   Over the next hour, he guided her repeatedly through the cantrip with
which Lei had gifted him until Alicia had passed the bonds of forty ferals
to him.  Gritting his teeth against the added strain to his psyche, he
cursed Lei under his breath for not passing him the knowledge to simply
release a fledgling from the bond.



   Refocusing his thoughts on Alicia, he asked, "Is that better?"

   "Yes, Master.  Thank you," she replied.  The rush of gratitude and
devotion that coursed through the bond between them threatened to overwhelm
him as all of the rage and hate of the ferals could not.

   "Good," he answered cooly as he rose rapidly to his feet, "lets go
upstairs and find out how our efforts have paid off."

   The mercenaries had thoughtfully recorded various portions of the day's
news that they thought he would find interesting.  Arthur delighted at the
helicopter views of the traffic snarls caused by thousands of people trying
to flee the city only to be turned back to their homes or, in the case of
the unfortunate commuters, the temporary shelters being provided by
churches, hotels, universities and hospitals.  He rejoiced at the video
clips of his ferals wreaking havoc at the hotel.  He noted with glee that,
despite the official assurances that a disease was the root of the problem,
every clip he watched had variations of the words, "Vampires in
Pittsburgh?" prominently displayed at the bottom of the screen.

   After he had watched the recorded excerpts several times over, he
decided that it was time to add to the terror that gripped the city.  As he
stood to leave, he gave Alicia's shoulder a light squeeze, "I think it
would be best for you to stay here tonight, Alicia.  You have more than
earned a night of respite."

   After she nodded her acceptance, he exited the house.  The moment he set
foot outside, he was able to feel the change that he had wrought: the
entire city reeked of fear, the heady aroma penetrated every building,
every street, and every alleyway.  He could almost see the miasma of terror
that hung over the city like a black cloud.

   Scanning quickly through the bonds to the ferals, he chose one that
seemed relatively close by.  He moved quickly in its direction, avoiding
the occasional masses of policemen, federal agents and soldiers with
contemptuous ease.  Within minutes, he located his target.  Using the
skills he had perfected several nights before, he brought the beast under
control and led it into a dark alley.  There he foisted the bonds of its
kindred onto it until he could bear those that remained without strain.  He
then released the creature, its fury and hunger now magnified many times
over, with a simple command to kill.

   Hearing a fresh burst of gunfire erupt in the distance, Arthur decided
that it would only be right to even the playing field a bit.  Pushing
himself to the limit of his supernatural speed, he ran to the bank of the
Allegheny river and then turned to follow the waterway to the point.  All
along his route the moisture in the air and on the surface of the river
coalesced into a dense fog which rolled into the city in waves.  Rounding
the point where the three rivers met, he journeyed up the Mon and repeated
the process.  By the time he had finished, screams had joined the gunfire
in a mad cacophony.  Arthur sprinted toward the towering skyscrapers to
join the ferals in the hunt.

   After night had fallen across the city, Agent Frederick Roper had begun
to doubt his own sanity.  First, shortly after he had stopped to inspect
the mix of National Guard soldiers and city police officers that manned a
checkpoint by the PPG towers, eight people emerged from a manhole leading
to the sewers half a block from the checkpoint.  The moment that they were
free of the sewers, they had sniffed at the air for a minute before
charging directly at Roper's little force.  They refused to respond to
shouts demanding that they stand their ground and identify themselves. 
Roper sent two of the guardsmen forward to block their path.  The eight
fell upon the two like a pack of hungry wolves.

   Roper and his team immediately brought their M-16's to bear and mowed
down the eight in a blaze of gunfire.  Before any of his men could get
close enough to the bodies to check them for identification or life signs,
all eight rose to their feet and resumed their charge.  Again, Roper and
his men cut them down.  And again they rose.  And again.  And again.  Agent
Roper ordered his men to switch their rifles from burst mode to single
shot. While four clips each had seemed an unnecessary extravagance in the
light of day, it was obviously not going to be enough.

   Then tendrils of fog began to snake across the street, even though there
had been no rain in days and the night was clear and cool.  Agent Roper
looked in the direction from which the wisps had come and was astonished to
see a massive wall of dense, white mist bearing down on his location.  It
flowed rapidly around the base of the shining glass tower of the PPG
building that anchored one end of the checkpoint.  Seconds later, Roper was
engulfed in its clammy embrace, his visibility reduced to mere feet.

   The men tensed, their eyes desperately searching through the mist for
the eight people that they had cut down so many times and who, they knew,
would rise again.

   Suddenly a cultured voice emanated from the depths of the mist behind
them, "Trouble, gentlemen?"

   As one, Roper and his men spun about and raised their guns, now
searching as desperately, and as futilely, for the speaker as they had for
the eight people who wouldn't die.

   "Now, now, that's hardly necessary," the voice said from the mist,
"Private Xavier knows who I am.  Don't you Private Xavier?"

   Roper switched his attention to the guardsman that the voice had named
and found the young man staring out into the fog, his face slack.  His eyes
unfocused, Xavier slowly turned to the side, his weapon still raised.  As
Roper watched in disbelief, the soldier switched his weapon to full
automatic and emptied his clip into the two men standing next to him.

   Roper cried out in warning as eight figures appeared from the mist,
falling on the men from behind.  Screams, many cut off short, rent the
night as hands and impossibly long teeth tore at defenseless flesh.  Roper
backed away from the wild melee, firing his weapon each time he could
discern a target.

   Sensing a presence behind him, the panic stricken agent spun to face it.
A hand grabbed the hot barrel of his rifle and tore the weapon from his
grasp.  The M -16 vanished into the fog as the figure threw it casually to
the side.  The metallic clatter that it made when it skittered across the
unseen pavement momentarily drowned out the wet sucking noises that came
from the fog where the checkpoint used to be.

   The figure latched onto the lapels of Roper's suit and pulled him close.
Roper found himself staring into narrowed eyes as black and cold as death
itself.

   With a humorless chuckle that pulled lips back from the teeth of a
predator, the figure said dryly, "So, Agent Roper of the FBI, do you still
think that I suffer from a disease?"

   The man lifted Roper from his feet and hurled him through the air.  The
agent lay stunned from his impact with the unyielding asphalt of the
street, but soon scrambled to his feet with a whimper of fear.  He ran
blindly into the damp, cold mist as mocking laughter echoed around him.

   "Run, rabbit!  Run!" the monster's voice called after him.

   Roper ran frantically through the fog shrouded city, his progress
impaired by frequent collisions with mailboxes, street posts and parking
meters that popped out of the mist in front of him.  He tried to gain
entrance to the relative safety of a number of buildings, but they were all
locked tight in conformance with the restrictions that he had imposed. 
Wherever he went, the mocking laughter stayed with him.  It sometimes came
from behind him, but, just as often, came from the sides or even from
ahead. Each time the laughter rang out, Roper put his back toward its
apparent source and ran onwards.  He was soon completely disoriented.  He
knew he was being herded, but saw no alternative.

   He had just made one such turn when he slipped and fell to the pavement.
Lifting his head from the warm, sticky puddle into which he had fallen, he
looked with dismay into the pale, lifeless face of a soldier who laid
sprawled over a curb.  As Roper pulled himself to his knees, he could dimly
see other figures through the mist.  None of them moved.  Working more by
touch than sight, he searched among the dead until he found a weapon and
several clips of ammunition.

   Heartened by the feel of steel in his hands, Roper tried to pick
familiar landmarks out of the mist in an attempt to get his bearings.  He
followed the curb to an intersection where he drew his face close enough to
the street sign to make out the words.  He was on Liberty Avenue near the
point.  If he followed the street for a few blocks, he would reach the
city's federal building and the strongest of the checkpoints.

   He had just set out at a quick jog when a tremendous impact from behind
threw him to the sidewalk.  He turned onto his back to see the man stride
out of the fog.  With a slight chuckle, the man picked up Roper's newly
acquired weapon and, after holding it for mere seconds, tossed it down
close to the agent's feet.  The man then stepped backwards and vanished
again into the mist.

   Roper snatched the rifle from the ground and pointed it in the direction
that the monster had taken.  It was then that he noticed the damage. 
Bewildered, he pulled the weapon close to his face so that he could see it
clearly through the mist.  Just forward of the front sight, the barrel had
been crimped as if pinched between finger and thumb.

   As the mocking laughter again rang out behind him, Roper cast the ruined
weapon aside and resumed running up Liberty Avenue.  This time he refused
to be herded, keeping to his course no matter which direction the laughter
came from.  He had not heard any sound from the monster for several minutes
when the flashing yellow lights of the checkpoint's barricade appeared out
of the fog in front of him.  Panting with exertion from the run and almost
sobbing with relief, Roper came to a stop in front of the group of men that
huddled closely together around one of the lights.

   As soon as he appeared, they clustered around him, showering him with
questions.  Did he know where they were?  How had they gotten here?  What
were they supposed to be doing?  As he gaped at them in confusion, a hand
tipped with razor sharp claws burst from the chest of the man in front of
him in a fountain of blood and gore.  Roper stumbled back, but had only
made it a few steps when the last of the men from the checkpoint fell
limply to the ground with a soft thump.  Roper turned to run again, but a
hand grabbed the back of his coat between his shoulders, bringing him to an
immediate stop.  He struggled to wriggle free of the jacket.

   "No, Agent Roper of the FBI," the voice said softly from just behind his
shoulder, "there will be no more running.  You have been amusing prey, but
every hunt must come to an end."

   Roper felt the intense pain of overly sharp teeth sinking into his
throat followed by pleasure as intense as he had ever known.  And then
there was only the darkness.

   As the agent's body fell bonelessly to the damp street, Arthur cackled
gleefully.  He couldn't recall the last time he had so thoroughly enjoyed
himself.

   During the time that he had hunted the agent, he had discovered several
shelters for nonresidents who had been trapped in the city by the federal
lockdown.  Absently straightening his tie, he strode off into the fog in
the direction of the church that housed the nearest.



   Chapter 26



   Mia held her two lovers closely to her chest until they each began to
breathe deeply in contented sleep, their fears now forgotten.  Caressing
their minds with her will to insure that their sleep would not be
disturbed, she wriggled her way out from between them.  She quickly dressed
and then leaned back over the bed to plant a lingering kiss on Tom's lips
and a fond peck on Dana's forehead.

   As she stood gazing at them, guilt flooded through her.  Guilt of such
magnitude that it brought tears to her eyes.  They trusted her so
completely and, all night, Tom's mind had practically glowed with his love
for her.  But she had betrayed that trust and love by taking a human life.
Her conscience demanded an act of contrition.  While she knew that she
could never truly redeem herself after what she had done, perhaps she could
shift the karmic balance back to a state with which she could live. 
Protecting innocents from the ferals that hunted them would, at least, be a
step in the right direction.

   She walked to the living room and peered out the window into the night.
The fog had mostly dissipated but an occasional scream still broke the
silence of the city besieged by fear.  Tom had been right about one thing:
had all three of them gone out, her companions would quite likely have been
quickly apprehended and detained.  Alone she would have no such
difficulties.

   Pushing her awareness out into dark streets, she made certain that there
was no immediate threat to the two people slumbering in the other room and
then silently eased out the window and dropped to the ground far below. 
Striding to one of the neighboring houses, she broke several posts off from
the white picket fence, adding to the damage she had done the night that
she had asked Tom to kill he, but he had instead taken her in.

   She loped through the city streets, hunting the hunters.  There were
dozens of packs, numbering anywhere from five to twenty, running openly and
unchecked through the vacant streets.  They ran hunched over, sometimes
using their hands to help push them along in an ungainly lumber.  Their
heads were raised to both take in the fear scent that pervaded the city and
to seek the smell of fresh victims.  Driven by guilt, Mia moved to
intercept all that she encountered.  This was nothing like the close
quarter fighting in the hotel hallways.  In the open, her speed far
outmatched that of her prey and feral after feral fell before they could
even react to her sudden presence.  Her trail was soon littered with bodies
that had already been dead for anywhere from a few hours to a day, but
would now rest in peace.

   She quickly learned that Tom and Dana would actually have had nothing to
fear from the checkpoints; every one that she came across in the vicinity
of downtown Pittsburgh was the site of a massacre.  The horribly disfigured
and often disemboweled bodies of those who had manned the barricades were
strewn about the streets and sidewalks in slicks and puddles of blood.  A
few had even been draped over the tops of street lights so as to throw
immense and horrifying shadows across the front of nearby buildings.  Any
remaining doubts she had concerning Arthur's continued existence were
dispelled by the gruesome displays.  In her experience, only he could be so
wantonly and unnecessarily cruel.

   Surprisingly few of the bodies she found had been drained and the crude
injuries inflicted on most of those who were hinted that they were the work
of ferals.  Nevertheless, she snapped the neck of any body that was not
already injured in that manner to make certain that none would rise.

   She had been wondering why no one had come to relieve the unfortunate
men at the checkpoints.  Her questions were answered when she ran by the
city-county building.  It was apparent that those who were to take the
second shift at the barricades had assembled there for assignment and
transportation.  The bodies were piled deep.

   There, she also found, for the first time that night, evidence of
successful mortal resistance to the onslaught of the undead.  At least ten
ferals, their fanged mouths gaping open in true and final death, laid among
the fallen, their bodies riddled with arrows.  Some of Tom's men must have
been there and had come prepared for what they knew prowled the night.  In
an effort to find out if they had survived, she searched among the dead for
bodies armed with bows.

   She sensed the arrow speeding toward her well before it arrived. 
Reflexively, her hand darted up to catch the wooden shaft a foot behind the
crudely whittled point.  Rather than move close enough for the shooter to
be able to identify her as friendly, and risk having another shot taken at
her in the process, Mia chose to move on.

   After a few blocks, she came across a large stone church.  A crude sign,
hastily lettered in black magic marker, proclaimed the place to be a
shelter for those trapped in the city by the quarantine effort.  The large,
beautifully carved wooden doors to the place were burst asunder, and the
men and women who had manned the checkpoint on the adjacent street had been
slaughtered.

   She was sickened by the sight that greeted her when she entered the
nave. Behind the pulpit, a large wooden cross was suspended from the
cathedral ceiling by several cables.  A priest had been impaled face down
at the top.  His neck was broken and his head had been pulled back so that
he seemed to be staring at the entrance.  As she drew closer, she could see
the deep gouges that had been made in the wood of the lower part of the
cross when the perpetrator of this vile act had used claws to climb to the
top.

   A hasty search of one of the transepts revealed a door that led down
into the church's basement.  Descending, she found several large rooms that
had been lined with cots for the refugees.  In the windowless basement,
Arthur, for this could only have been his work, had departed from the
practice she had observed in the streets.  Nearly every body was drained
but otherwise uninjured.  From what she could tell, the unarmed mortals had
cowered back against the walls when Arthur had appeared at the only exit to
what had then become their prison.  He must have used compulsion to make
them come to him, one by one, to be drained while the others watched.  The
massive pool of blood at the base of the stairs showed that he had filled
and then emptied himself many times over.  The rooms absolutely reeked of
fear, the scent so strong that she could feel her fangs descend from her
upper jaw in instinctive reaction.

   This atrocity had been committed recently enough that the Gift would not
yet have taken hold; a wooden stake was not needed.  She moved from body to
body and snapped the victims' necks, wincing as she discovered that several
of them were mere children.  By the time she was through, she was weeping,
her mind a tumultuous mix of rage, horror, grief and hunger.

   When she emerged from the church, she could feel that the sun would be
rising soon, although the sky had not yet begun to brighten.  She hesitated
with indecision.  Arthur could well be nearby and, in her rage, she wanted
nothing less than to confront him to make him pay for what he had done. 
But reason prevailed; she had no illusions that she would pose any more of
a threat to him than a single feral did to her.  She sped back across the
city to the building that housed Tom's apartment .  With a quick exercise
of will, she purged her clothing of the dried blood that saturated it and
then changed her hands, arms and feet to allow her to scale the side of the
building to his living room window.

   Once inside, she resealed the window and ran to the bedroom.  Not
bothering to undress, she wriggled her way back between Tom and Dana and
then hugged them tightly to her.  The comfort of their presence served as a
bulwark against the horrific and grisly images from her outing that
continued to haunt her.  Nevertheless, when the sun rose above the horizon,
and her body shook before becoming unnaturally still, her cheeks were shiny
with fresh tears.

   Chapter 27

   Tom awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in weeks.  Yesterday's long
afternoon nap followed by a full night of dreamless sleep had truly done
wonders.  As his eyes opened, he saw that Dana was still cuddled up tightly
to the now dormant Mia, a broad, happy smile stretched across her lips even
in sleep.  With an affectionate smile, he stretched to kiss Mia's cool lips
and then, more lightly, Dana's very warm ones.

   While doing so, he noticed that, sometime after he had fallen asleep,
Mia had again dressed in his sweat pants and t-shirt.  He could easily
guess what she had done.  He suppressed the sudden surge of worry; she was
obviously okay.  Briefly he wondered how she had managed to do battle for
the second night in a row without having fed.  He promised himself that he
would find a way to get her to Peter's house no matter what restrictions
were in place.  She surely had to be in dire need.

   He rose from the bed and slipped on his boxers before wandering out in
the direction of the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing.  He stopped
momentarily as he reached the living room.  The back of a head was visible
over the top of his couch.  He relaxed and continued walking when he
recognized it as Mark's.

   Mark's head was tilted to rest on the back of the couch.  His eyes were
closed and he was snoring softly.  Tom stifled a laugh as he saw the line
of drool that extended from the corner of his friend's widely gaping mouth
to his chest.  The desire to laugh ceased when he proceeded a little
further and saw that Mark's right arm was in a sling and a leg, fortunately
the left one, was in a full cast.  The upper part of his shirt bulged with
the bandages that were wrapped tightly around his ribs, and his left hand
was draped protectively over the crutch that lay across his lap.

   Doing his best to move quietly, Tom completed his intended task and then
headed to the bathroom for his morning ablutions.  When he returned, the
coffee was ready.  Filling two cups, he walked back to the living room and
waved one under Mark's nose.

   Mark came awake immediately, his good hand reaching for the cup even
before his eyes opened.  "Ahhh," he sighed blissfully, "that's the second
best way to wake up that I can think of."

   Tom, careful not to ask what the best way was, said mildly, "Good
morning, sleeping beauty.  What brings you to my couch so bright and early?
Jenny finally get a good look at you and tell you to get out?"

   Before Mark could answer, Tom added, "Oh, and did you just end your
sentence with a preposition?  Your old professors would be appalled."

   "First you give me coffee and then you insult me," Mark replied in an
injured tone, "You're quite the contrary bitch." He brightened as a smirk
twisted his lips.  "Since you're being so picky, how about: that's the
second best way to wake up that I can think of, asshole?  As to the rest, I
peeked in on you when I first got here.  Even though I was told that my
errand was fairly urgent, I couldn't bring myself to disturb you and your,
uh, company.  Dana, Tom?  Really?  You do know that she's young enough to
be..."

   "My younger sister?" Tom interrupted.  "It's all very innocent.  I
swear. She was a bit frightened by everything that was going on in the city
and just wanted to spend the night someplace safe."

   "Uh huh," Mark replied in a tone of frank disbelief.

   He appeared to be about to say more when the object of their
conversation walked into the room wearing only her Pittsburgh PD t-shirt
and a pair of panties.  She paused when she noticed Mark's presence, but,
with a slight shrug of her shoulders, continued forward.

   "Good morning.  Do I smell coffee?" she asked hopefully.

   "Good morning, and you sure do," Tom replied, "Have a seat and I'll get
you a cup."

   "Mmmm," she said contentedly after the first sip, "much better than that
swill at the station."

   "I'll take that as a compliment," Tom replied before switching his
attention back to Mark, "You mentioned an urgent errand?"

   "Yep," Mark answered.  "Look at this," he ordered gruffly as he hit a
button on the tv remote.  A Massengill commercial appeared on the screen.

   "Are you saying that I'm not fresh and clean?" Tom asked.

   Mark grunted with amusement and then grumbled, "Bad timing.  Keep
watching.  They've been showing what I want you to see nonstop all
morning."

   After a few more commercials and a notice indicating that the day's
scheduled programming had been preempted for a special news report, an
elderly and dignified anchor began summarizing the events in Pittsburgh
over the past few days.  After recapping the assurances of the federal
authorities that it was nothing more than the outbreak of an unusual
disease, the anchor said, "But the official explanation fails to account
for what we are about to show you.  I warn you that the video that you are
about to see contains scenes of violence which are not suitable for
sensitive viewers."

   The anchor's head and shoulders were replaced by footage that had been
filmed from a corner room of one of the hotels close to the point.  The
windows had been opened and the screens popped out to give the cameraman a
clean shot.  The camera was pointed down at a sharp angle and showed a
group of five unarmed men rushing toward a far larger group of heavily
armed soldiers and policemen who were gathered around a line of bright
yellow horses topped with flashing yellow lights.  Barely perceptible over
the cameraman's breathing, Tom could hear the terse shouts of the police
for the other group to stop.  Guns came up as those orders were ignored. 
Tom noticed that it was a city police officer, all of whom were at least
vaguely aware that the threat was not a mere illness, who opened fire
first. The other men joined in and the five jerked backwards under the
impact of hot lead before falling motionless to the pavement.

   "Holy [beep]," the cameraman blurted out angrily, "those [beep] just
shot those poor [beep] down like dogs!  I can't believe this [beep]!"

   The furious tirade continued for a few minutes until it suddenly choked
off when the bodies twitched violently and began to rise.  As the police
and soldiers stood in stunned disbelief, they renewed their charge.  When
they were less than ten yards away, guns were lifted and fired.  The bodies
again fell to the ground.  The police and soldiers gathered in a close
group, and it was obvious that a heated argument was taking place.  The
group broke apart and pairs of men grabbed the wooden horses that formed
the barricade and carried them twenty yards farther down the street from
their fallen adversaries.  They had no sooner set up their new line when
the dead rose to their feet yet again.  This time there was no hesitation
before gunfire broke out.

   Once the undead were again motionless, one of the city police officers
knocked over a barricade and kicked it violently until it was in splinters.
By the time he was finished, they were again being charged.  When the
barrage of rifle fire ended this time, that same officer, along with
several others, grabbed sharp shards of wood from the broken barricade and
sprinted to the fallen ferals.  They stabbed each body repeatedly until
they could be certain that no heart had gone unpierced.



   "Good for them!" Tom whooped, echoed only somewhat less exuberantly by
Dana.

   "Keep watching," Mark said grimly.

   The camera remained fixed on the men below, who now seemed to be arguing
about what to do about the dead bodies in the street.  Tendrils of fog
began to snake across the street.  The mist swiftly grew thicker and rose
higher.  Just before the men were obscured, the camera shifted to show a
number of barely perceptible figures running toward the checkpoint.  Many
of them had a strange, erratic gate, as if they were using their hands to
assist with their locomotion.  The cameraman could be heard shouting
warnings out the window.  The footage continued long enough for the viewers
to hear renewed gunfire that cut off when the screams began.

   As Tom, Dana and Mark exchanged horrified glances, the video was
replaced by the familiar visage of the anchorman.  "Our meteorologist
assures us that conditions in Pittsburgh last night were such that fog
could not possibly have formed naturally.  It did dissipate after roughly
three hours.  We'll now show you what was revealed.  Again, we strongly
caution that what we are about to show you is not appropriate for sensitive
viewers."

   The picture switched back to the view from the corner hotel room.  The
fog had been reduced to a thin mist that whirled and eddied through the
street at no more than knee height.  The wet street was covered with
bodies, some dismembered, all with hideous injuries.  Tom noticed that
there were far fewer than there should have been; many of the men who had
manned the checkpoint were missing.

   Over the grim footage, the anchorman stated, "We have been attempting to
reach the authorities in Pittsburgh for an official statement on the events
of last night, but, so far, none of our calls have been forwarded to anyone
with authorization to speak on the subject.  All that we have been told is
that the restrictions that were put in place yesterday afternoon are still
in effect."

   Tom looked at Mark in confusion, "Why isn't anyone saying anything?"

   Mark answered by pointing a finger at Tom.

   "Huh?" Tom replied, now even more confused.

   "You're the resident vampire expert," Mark explained, "No one is willing
to say shit until they talk to you."

   "Fuck!  Why didn't they call?  Why..," Tom's words cut off as Mark held
up the cell phone that Tom suddenly recalled he had turned off yesterday to
avoid the endless stream of callers who had wanted to voice outrage over
his suspension.  Mark tossed it over to him, and a quick check showed Tom
that his voice mail was full.

   "Damn.  Sorry," Tom said, disgusted with himself, "Why didn't you wake
me up?" His eyes rose to look at Mark with friendly malice, "And why did
they send the fat, gimpy guy to crawl up six flights of stairs to my
apartment?"

   With a chuckle, Mark answered, "I didn't wake you up because you just
looked too damn comfortable."

   Dana turned bright red as she realized what he must have seen.

   Mark gave her a reassuring smile and continued, "If those sanctimonious
feds don't like it, they can just go fuck themselves.  From what I
understand, if they had listened to you yesterday, they wouldn't be in so
much trouble today.  Besides, I've only been here for," he checked his
watch quickly, "a little over half an hour.  I would have woken you up
soon, if you hadn't gotten up on your own.  It's not like cutting you a
little slack will make those poor, sorry bastards who died last night any
more dead or make a lot of difference today.  As to why they sent me, I
called in first thing this morning after I was released from the hospital
to see if I could help.  Had a quick conference call with the Chief and
some CDC asshole who is now leading the federal contingent in the city as
their old leader vanished last night.  The Chief talked him into sending me
to get you instead of some fed.  Think of it as extending an olive branch
or using honey to lure in the flies."

   In a subdued voice, Tom asked, "How many people did we lose last night?"

   Mark shook his head sadly, "When I asked, no one was really sure.  Lots.
Though probably less than we would have if not for..." he finished by
gesturing vaguely toward the window.  Glancing over, Tom saw, for the first
time, the pair of fence posts that were leaning against the wall beneath
the sill.  The paint had been worn off the sharp ends and the cracks were
filled with dried blood and bits of skin, bone and muscle.

   "I really need to slip a few bucks into my neighbor's mailbox to cover
all the damage to his fence," Tom commented absently, "I also owe Mia a
great big hug."

   "Yeah, we all do, I would say," Mark replied.

   Tom stood with a sigh and sucked down as much of the hot coffee as he
could handle, "Well, I suppose we had better get moving before they send
someone else."

   "Should I come with you?" Dana asked.

   Tom shook his head, "Only if you really want to.  I would say that what
you went through the other night more than earned you a couple of days of
rest and relaxation.  You're more than welcome to stay here.  There's food
in the fridge and you know where the shower is.  Not to mention that, with
all the vampire hunters that are likely to be combing the city by the end
of the day, I would feel better knowing that someone was watching over
Mia."

   "Okay," Dana replied, relief evident in her voice.  She stood and walked
over to Tom where she twined an arm around his neck to pull him down for a
quick peck on the lips and a hug.  "Thanks for, um, everything, Tom." Her
face turned red with another blush as she added, "Would it be alright if I
stayed here tonight, too?"

   Returning her hug with a squeeze of his own, Tom replied, "Of course."
Switching his attention to Mark, he asked, "Ready, hop along?"

   Once they were out in the hallway, Mark turned to his friend with a
lecherous grin, "Innocent, my ass."

   Tom answered only with a smile that, despite all of his efforts, still
looked smug.

   As Tom helped Mark negotiate the many stairs that led to the ground
floor, Mark grumbled, "You cheap bastard.  Why can't you spring for an
apartment in a building with an elevator?"

   Mildly, Tom answered, "This building has one, it just hasn't worked in a
year or two." He pointedly ignored the murderous look that Mark gave him in
reply.

   Once they were out on the sidewalk, Tom asked, "How did you get here,
anyway?  I'm guessing that you can't drive."

   "A patrol car dropped me off," Mark replied, "The driver had orders to
wait until I dragged you out by the hair and then drive us back to the
station, but I told him that we could make it there on our own."

   "Okay," said Tom, "My car it is."

   As they approached the vehicle in question, Mark let out a disgusted
grunt, "Tiny apartment in a crappy old building.  Shitty car.  Bachelor
who, until recently, lived the life of a monk.  What do you spend your
money on?"

   Struggling to keep a straight face, Tom answered, "Midget porn.  Lots
and lots of midget porn."

   Chapter 28

   The moment that Tom and Mark entered the station, Dr.  Nolan of the CDC
came running up to them.  Panting from the slight exertion, he asked
breathlessly, "Detective, about time you got here.  What can you tell me
about these things?"

   "Good morning, Dr.  Nolan," Tom replied pleasantly, "It's nice to see
you again, too.  But I thought we didn't have time for ridiculous
superstition."

   Dr.  Nolan had the decency to look abashed at Tom's words.  "Sorry," he
answered sheepishly, "We were wrong, you were right.  Now, would you be
willing to share what you know?"

   "Sure, we're all on the same team, after all," Tom replied, "but I want
a few things, first." He would certainly have provided the information
without conditions, but an opportunity to get things moving in a hurry
could not be passed over.

   "What?" Dr.  Nolan asked with exasperation.

   "I want the travel restrictions against people leaving the city lifted.
In fact, why don't we just make it a mandatory evacuation?  Get word out
immediately.  It would be a good idea to search every car that leaves. 
Make certain the sun touches everyone.  The vampires who are behind all
that has been going on quite likely have regular people, mercenaries,
helping them.  They could try to leave the city by day with the
mercenaries' help."

   "Done, but why evacuate?"

   "The obvious reason.  The fewer people there are in the city, the fewer
people there are for the vampires to kill or turn into other vampires." Tom
was almost ashamed at the perverse pleasure he took in the pained looks
that crossed the doctor's face every time he said the v word.

   "Anything else?"

   "Yes.  Call in the people at the checkpoints inside the city.  Form them
into search parties and have them start looking in every dark alley, every
dumpster, every open basement, and every building with broken or open
windows or doors.  If they find anyone who seems dead, they are to drag
that person out into the sun.  It would also be good to open every manhole
and lower mirrors down to reflect sunlight up and down the pipes.  The
sewer pipes in this city are too small and too full for people who have to
breathe to be crawling around in them for a proper search, but using the
mirrors should help a little."

   Dr.  Nolan nodded thoughtfully, "Good idea.  Done.  Is that all?"

   "I would like to know two things: how many people did we lose last night
and what specifically happened to change your mind about the existence of
vampires?"

   Dr.  Nolan's face turned grim, "Last night, we split all available
people into four shifts of six hours each.  Inside the bounds of the city
proper, we lost everyone on the first shift; just under three hundred men.
About a third of those are still missing.  Those who were assigned to
outlying districts or the highways reported no contact with the enemy.  The
entire second shift was attacked either while they were assembling for
assignment or while they were driving there through that blasted fog. 
Almost four hundred dead.  Fortunately, some of the men had come prepared
with bows and arrows and they held off the attackers while more than two
hundred others escaped into the city-county building lobby.  They then
stood guard until morning, keeping those people safe.  We had the third
shift assemble at the South Side station and just manned the outer
checkpoints from there on out.

   "As to your second question: early in the evening, one of the
checkpoints was attacked by a single man and they managed to restrain him
and bring him in.  When I examined him, I found that he had no pulse, no
blood pressure and was room temperature.  Although the team reported that
they had shot him repeatedly, there was no sign of any injury other than
the holes in his clothes.  His pupil reactions, reflexes, and flexibility
were, however, completely normal, even better than normal.  When I checked
his teeth, I discovered that he not only had fangs but could extend and
retract them at will.  He was completely unresponsive to questions, and
acted more like a caged animal than a human being.  When I had blood tests
run on the exceedingly small amount that I could squeeze out of him, the
results were more bizarre than anything I could have ever imagined.  Not
only was the chemistry all wrong, but it contained cells like nothing I've
seen before.

   "The presence of those cells had almost convinced me that it was a
disease after all.  Just a very, very exotic one.  Then, at six fifteen
this morning, the exact time of sunrise, he ceased struggling against the
chains that we had used to hold him down and went completely limp and
seemingly lifeless on the gurney.  Ten minutes later, the sun began shining
through the windows of the examining room and he, the vial of blood that I
had drawn from him, and the blood that I had smeared on some slides burst
explosively into flame.  That made a believer out of me.  Now, will you
tell me what you know?"

   Shocked by the sheer numbers of dead, Tom replied in a subdued voice,
"Sure, Dr.  Nolan.  While you make the arrangements for the search parties
and the evacuation, let me see if I can round up some other people who need
to hear what I have to say."

   Dr.  Nolan turned to go but then spun to face Tom again, "Detective, you
do realize that telling the world that there really are vampires is pretty
much out of the question?"



   "It's the truth.  And assuming that hiding that truth is even remotely
possible at this point, which I sincerely doubt, why would you?  I think
the people have a right to know what it is that they're facing."

   "Think of the panic that such knowledge would cause, and the economic
and social disaster that would occur if everyone was suddenly afraid to
leave their homes after dark.  Consider, too, that vampires look like us;
in a sense they are, or at least were, us.  Anyone walking by you on the
street could be one.  And that is exactly what a lot of people will think.

   "Fear is not a rational emotion.  If someone is acting odd, or is new to
an area, or follows different customs, they will be subject to suspicion,
even violence.  It won't matter if the suspicions are unsupported by
evidence.  It never does.  Look how long racial and ethnic stereotypes have
persisted and how much violence has occurred because of them.  That is so
even though no such stereotype has included the added dimension of the
subject wanting to kill and eat you."

   Tom shook his head, "I don't think you're giving people enough credit,
Doctor.  People are smart enough..."

   Dr.  Nolan interrupted, "A person is smart.  People are not.  A person
can view a situation logically and rationally.  A group of people, however,
is prone to fear, hysteria, paranoia and violence.  Mob mentality is an
unfortunate reality."

   "That's an extremely dim view of human nature."

   "Actually, Detective, that's the bright side.  On the other side of the
coin is the people who, instead of being afraid, want the power and
longevity that vampirism can offer.  They will flock to the city with the
hope of becoming infected.  And if they succeed...Well, I don't think I
need to paint a picture of what would happen if people who are willing to
consume the lives of others to prolong their own actually got the
opportunity."

   When Tom just stared at him, dumbfounded, Dr.  Nolan pressed on, "I know
this will be covered in the briefing you'll be giving, but answer me this:
Do you know how long these creatures have been around?"

   Tom bit down on his anger and answered, "I don't know.  At least a few
hundred years."

   "Yet this has been the only incident of this type?"

   "Well, yes..."

   "From Ms.  Harper's story, I get the impression that this is all the
work of one or two creatures?"

   "Only one, really.  The woman who was with him was created here."

   "Okay.  Do you not think it a fair assumption, then, that, even if there
are others of his kind, even many others, he is an anomaly, a rebel among
them?

   Grudgingly, Tom admitted, "I suppose so."

   "So, if we manage to eliminate this one, don't you think it likely that
we will have no further incidents of this type?"

   "It's possible, but what if there are?"

   "I'm not suggesting that we stick our heads in the sand, Detective
McNelly.  There will be people, all with proper levels of clearance of
course, who know the truth.  There will likely even be a rapid response
team trained specifically to combat any future incidents.  What I am
suggesting is that the truth will not do the masses any good and may even
do a great deal of harm."

   "As an intellectual exercise, I suppose that I can see your point, but
there are already a huge number of people who know the truth..."

   "No.  There are a huge number of people who think they know the truth.
Very few have actually seen a vampire up close and survived.  If we offer a
plausible alternative, who do you think the masses will believe?  Us, with
our rational and logical explanation, or people who spout out incredible
tales of mythological creatures attacking a modern city?"

   "What 'rational and logical' explanation could you possibly give for all
that has happened?"

   "All we need to do is put an added spin on the old explanation.  It is a
disease, similar to rabies but also causing hallucinations, delusions and
rapid growth of the canine teeth.  To be on the safe side, we'll say that
it has a hundred percent mortality rate in cases of full infection.  We'll
also say that it can only be spread through a direct mix of bodily fluids,
such as by a bite or ingestion of blood, and that it has almost no
incubation period.  That will allow us to perform the evacuation without
inciting pandemic hysteria.  We'll even have the checkpoints administer
fake 'skin chemistry' tests to make sure that those leaving aren't
infected. I imagine simple litmus paper will do."

   "But Harper's story..."

   "She was bitten by one of the infected and, unfortunately, contracted a
mild form of the disease.  What she recalls experiencing was nothing more
than a hallucination, a fever dream.  To diminish her credibility, we'll
lock her up in quarantine for a few weeks before pronouncing her cured.  By
the time she's released, even she'll believe it was all a delusion."

   "That's horrible!"

   "No.  That is doing what is necessary to preserve our society."

   "But the news has already shown people rising from the dead..."

   "Many drugs, PCP for example, allow a person to endure injuries that
would drop anyone else.  In their panic, the team that shot at their
attackers managed to miss any area that would cause an immediate fatality."

   "That's ludicrous!"

   "Far less so than the alternative.  People will readily believe that
story over vampires.  If for no other reason than because they want to."

   "The fog..."

   "Was a freak meteorological phenomena that happened last night only
through sheer coincidence.  Such things happen all the time.  By noon,
we'll have people with a bunch of letters after their names explaining it
on every news show in the country."

   "I'm given to understand that the one who is causing all of this wants
the masses to know he exists.  If we foil his efforts, he'll likely just up
the ante again."

   "Then we had better destroy him tonight."

   When it looked like Tom was going to raise further objections, Dr. 
Nolan raised a hand to silence him.  "We have a lot of experience with this
sort of thing, Detective.  Believe me when I tell you that it will work. 
The question is: will you support us or will you be just another nutjob
that we have to discredit?"

   Tom's shoulders slumped, "With that set of options, I guess I really
don't have any other choice but to support you."

   "Excellent.  I'll see you at your briefing.

   Tom ended up giving his short course on the basics of vampire hunting to
a room of no more than twenty people.  The doors to the briefing room were
kept locked and guards stood outside to prevent any eavesdropping.  Tom
spent the rest of the morning standing behind Dr.  Nolan at a press
conference during which the doctor disseminated the new information
concerning the disease outbreak, announced the evacuation and declared the
vampire stories to be absolute nonsense.

   After a hasty lunch procured from the station's vending machines, Tom
spent several hours fending off attempts by Dr.  Nolan, Agent Roper's
replacement, and some two star general to learn more about the city's
"vampire ally," including her current location.  The evidence, including a
number of eye witness statements and the large number of dead ferals
littering the streets that morning, had been too strong for him to simply
deny her existence.  The meeting ended when Tom stood and walked resolutely
from the room, refusing to acknowledge the questions and demands that were
shouted after him.

   Agent Roper's replacement, Agent Morris, ran after Tom and grabbed him
by the shoulder.  "How can you be so obstinate?  Do you have any idea how
much we could learn from an accommodating vampire?  Your failure to
cooperate is putting a lot of lives at risk."



   Tom twisted out of his grasp and spun on him angrily, "You've been
saying that same shit for two hours now, and it still stinks.  Mia is a
friend and an ally.  She's saved more lives and killed more ferals than all
the rest of us combined.  I will not allow you to turn her into a lab rat
in some high security government facility.  As far as risking lives, I
think that the record speaks for itself.  Your predecessor's refusal to
listen to reason yesterday not only risked lives but cost them.  Lots of
them.  I have nothing else to say on the matter."

   Agent Morris let Tom go, but followed him with angry narrowed eyes until
he vanished from sight.

   Because the downtown area of the city had been the epicenter of vampire
activity, it was decided, by common consensus, that it would be the first
area to be evacuated.  To prevent any chance of witnesses who could throw
doubt on the official explanation of events, the evacuation of this area
was absolutely mandatory and any who sought to remain were unceremoniously
forced from their homes.  Once most of the people had been removed from the
downtown area, the evacuation spread to the outlying districts of the city,
though it was not strictly enforced there.  By mid-afternoon, the search
teams were able to switch from herding stragglers out of the area to
diligently combing through the otherwise empty buildings for dormant
undead.

   Despite Mia's efforts the night before, there was still an ungodly
number of them.  Tom's team alone found dozens.  Tom and his team, all of
whom had blank, shell shocked faces as a result of the emotional trauma of
dragging friends, coworkers, women and children out to burn in the sun,
had, through trial and error, developed a system for handling each body
that they found.  First, for record keeping purposes, they searched the
body for identification or, if there was none, took a photograph of the
feral's face.  Then, because of the violence with which the vampires
exploded when touched by the sun, they used grappling hooks attached to
ropes to drag the bodies into daylight.  When Tom took a quick break and
glanced into the sky, it was apparent that the other teams were meeting
with similar success: small plumes of greasy, black smoke rose from all
over the city.

   Shortly before sunset, Tom threw back the cover of a dumpster and found
himself staring into the lifeless face of Agent Roper.  He sank his
grappling hook into the undead agent's diaphragm so that the hook caught on
the rib cage.  He then gave the rope attached to the base of the hook a tug
to signal those on the other end.  The body was quickly pulled out into the
fading light of the sun.

   After Agent Roper had been reduced to charred bones, they tagged and
bagged his remains and threw him into the back of a dump truck that was
brimming with identical cargo.  He would be their last for the day. 
Emotionally and physically exhausted, Tom and his team trudged back to the
station.

   Upon arrival, they were relieved of the records they had made and then
were quickly briefed on the plans for the rapidly coming night.  Someone
involved in the planning had realized that IR gear should readily allow
those who had body heat to be distinguished from those who did not. 
Helicopters with FLIR were even now powering up to patrol the surrounding
countryside for any undead that attempted to leave the city without using
the roads.  Meanwhile, fresh teams were being equipped with the odd
combination of bows, crossbows and IR goggles to patrol the city for
roaming ferals that the daytime search parties had missed.  They were also
being ordered to search any house that continued to show signs of
occupation and was not the residence of a police officer whose continued
presence in the city was required.

   Following the briefing, the daytime search teams were thanked and
dismissed with orders to return to their homes and stay there until
morning. Tired and covered with soot, they dispersed to their cars to drive
to their mostly empty homes; their families having been evacuated with
everyone else.

   Before crawling into his own vehicle, Tom made a quick call to Dana to
tell her what was happening and that they would need to get Mia out of the
city before Tom's apartment was inevitably searched.

   As Tom pulled out of the parking lot, he noticed that he was nearly out
of gas.  With the service stations all closed, he had no choice but to go
to one of the fuel depots established for government use.  The line was
long and the sunset had faded from bruised purple to true night by the time
he was again on his way.

   When Tom rounded the corner onto the street that fronted his apartment
building, the sweep of his headlights caught the silhouette of a man
leaning against the outside wall of Zelda's Tavern.  In his peripheral
vision, he caught a glimpse of the man rushing toward his car with
unnatural speed.  Tom pressed the gas pedal to the floor and turned the
wheel hard in an effort to evade, but it was too late.  His car shook with
violent impact and the roof buckled downwards as the man landed atop it.

   Tom slammed on the brake in an attempt to throw his unwelcome rider from
the roof.  His efforts were greeted by soft, mocking laughter.  Suddenly,
Tom was deafened by the squeal of tearing metal as a long claw punched
through the roof above his head and was drawn swiftly towards the rear of
the car.

   Tom stared numbly upwards as the half of the roof covering his head was
peeled back like the lid of a sardine cane.  The night sky revealed by this
act was quickly blotted out by the silhouette of a man's head.  Tom reached
for the pistol in his shoulder holster, but a hand shot down through the
roof to claim the weapon first and throw it aside.  Tom heard the dull
clunk of the gun hitting the street and the sound filled him with despair..

   "Good evening, Detective.  How nice it is to finally make your
acquaintance," Arthur hissed, his voice dripping with malice.

   A fist flashed toward Tom's temple, moving far too fast to avoid. 
Dimly, Tom felt the other side of his head impact hard against the glass of
his driver's side window.  His last conscious memory was of being pulled
violently from the car and thrown over a shoulder.

   Chapter 29

   Alicia crept furtively through the dark and empty streets.  Earlier, her
Master had suggested that she again stay indoors under the protection of
the mercenaries.  He had also intimated that he had accomplished all he
could in this city and, after he tied up one final bit of unfinished
business, they would be leaving for fresh hunting grounds.  Perhaps even
New York.

   Fortunately, her Master's suggestion had been just that rather than an
order.  She had some unfinished business of her own to attend to.  Slipping
past band after band of vampire hunters, she traveled to one of the least
prosperous sections of the city.

   She smiled when she saw the light shining out of his apartment window.
She had correctly judged her quarry's nature.  His apathy and laziness had
overcome good sense; he hadn't evacuated.  She peered carefully up and down
the street before running up the rotting wooden steps that led to his door.

   Her loud knocks soon prompted a voice to call from within, "Ha!  I knew
ya couldn't stand being away from me, Sally!  I told ya that evacuation
bullshit..."

   His words cut off as he pulled the door open.

   "Yer not Sally," he said accusingly.  He then squinted at her through
eyes bleary from alcohol, "Alicia?  You get yer hair cut or sumtin'?"

   She looked at him with disgust.  He was dressed in a graying tank top
and badly stained briefs.  The tank top was too small; the hairy base of
his beer belly protruded from below it and folded over the top of his dirty
underwear.

   "Hello, Harry," Alicia said sweetly.  His head snapped backwards and he
flew across the room as her upper cut connected with his chin.

   "Cops are lookin' fer ya, bitch!  Getcher skank ass outa here or I'll
call 'em!  I swear!" he screeched frantically as he scrambled across the
floor away from her.

   Kicking the door closed behind her, Alicia stalked him through the
small, dreary apartment.  "Our vow was 'until death do us part,' Harry,"
she said calmly, "Not 'until some young whore flashes her tits at you.'"

   She stood over his cowering form, her lips pursed in contemplation,
"Hmm, now that I think about it, death probably already has parted us." Her
voice grew lower in pitch and filled with menace, "But what do you say we
just remove all doubt?"

   He squealed as she lifted him from the floor by the front of his shirt.
Drawing her hand back she slapped him repeatedly across the face.  With
each impact, a fine mist of blood sprayed out across the adjoining walls.
An occasional displaced tooth clattered along the floor.

   "Remember doing this to me after your binges?" she asked rhetorically,
"Good times.  Good times."

   "I'm thorry!" he shouted through cracked and broken lips.

   "Sorry isn't good enough," she replied, "Not by a long shot."

   She drew the arm that gripped his shirt back and then rapidly forward.
He slid across the floor before his head hit the opposite wall with a loud
crack.  As he clutched feebly at his head and mouth, she walked over to
again stand above him.

   "In all fifteen years that we were married, I don't think you once made
me cum with that tiny little thing you think of as a cock," she said as she
emphasized her point by bringing her foot down hard on the organ in
question and then grinding her foot back and forth.

   She withdrew her foot as he screamed and clutched at his injured member,
curling up into a tight ball.  She walked around him until she was standing
by his head.

   She pushed him over onto his back with her foot and stood on his upper
arms to pin him there.  "I think you owe me at least one good orgasm for
putting up with fifteen years of your bullshit," she mused.

   Drawing her dress up around her hips, she squatted down to grind her ass
into his face.  "I think licking my asshole would be a good place to
start."

   "Fuck you, bitch!" he shouted, though his words were muffled by her
thighs.

   "I don't think so, Harry," she replied calmly, "Not ever again.  But you
will lick my ass.  Now."

   When he continued to struggle, she took one of his hands in hers. 
Pulling his middle finger out straight, she twisted sharply.  With a sound
like popcorn popping, the bones and knuckles of the finger shattered. 
Harry screamed into her crotch.

   "Better start licking, Harry," she commanded, "Only nine left to go and
then I'll have to move on to other things." She traced a finger
suggestively down the center of his stomach to make certain that he didn't
miss the implication.

   His tongue stretched out to take a few tentative licks at her nether
hole.

   "Not good enough, Harry," she said as she straightened out his pinky.

   His tongue immediately began to lap forcefully at her anus.  She moaned
loudly in pleasure.  It wasn't really the touch of his tongue that she was
enjoying, although that was pleasant enough.  It was the power.  It was the
fact that he was compelled to do what she desired, without any regard for
his own wants or needs.  So it had been with the mercenaries several nights
before.  They knew what she and her Master were and had been more than
happy to follow her instructions and satisfy her every whim.  She would
never have to put up with abuse or neglect again.  No more would she be
forced to debase herself for any man.

   Except for her Master, of course.  For him she would do anything.  He
had given her a gift beyond her wildest imaginings.  Even a thousand years
of humiliation and pain would be a small price to pay for such a thing. 
Especially, she admitted to herself, since, as long as he was the one doing
such things, she would enjoy every minute.

   As she ground her bottom more firmly into her ex-husband's face, the
door burst open behind her.  She jumped to her feet as the room filled with
soldiers.  Several of them wore bulky IR goggles.

   One of them turned to look at her.  "She's one of them!" he shouted.

   She sprinted for the window.  She could hear arrows whizzing through the
air just behind her.  However, not all of the soldiers were equipped with
archaic weapons, there simply weren't enough to go around.  An assault
rifle on full automatic began to chatter and she could hear the ring of
expended brass hitting the floor.  Hot lead tore into her side, causing her
to cry out in pain.  Her Master had told her that bullets could do her no
lasting harm, but he hadn't informed her how badly they could still hurt.

   She stumbled and, as she slowed, the arrows began to find her, piercing
her arms, thighs and abdomen.  White hot pain lanced through her.  Compared
to this, the bullets had been pleasant.  She fell to the floor and cowered
back as the soldiers closed in for the kill.  A whimper escaped her throat
as one drew back his bowstring and took careful aim at the center of her
chest.

   From the other side of the room she heard Harry call out, "Yeah!  Kill
that fuckin' bitch!"

   She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that her end was at hand.  But it
didn't come.  Fearfully, she partially opened one eye to see what fresh
torment they were preparing for her.  None of the soldiers were paying her
the slightest attention.  Eyes wide with shock and lips pulled back in
grimaces of pain they stood as motionless as statues, every muscle and
tendon standing out hard under taut skin.  As Alicia watched, their bodies
began to contort, limbs and backs twisting in ways that should not be
possible.  Cracks and pops filled the room as bones and joints gave way to
implacable pressure.  Blood and vomit fountained from several mouths as
they all fell to the floor.

   Alicia stared without comprehension at the men who had so suddenly and
inexplicably died.  Suddenly, the room reverberated with the sound of
massive wings beating the air and Alicia looked up just in time to shield
her face with a hastily raised arm as the double window in the living room
exploded inward.  A monstrous, glossy black bird glided into the room.  For
a moment, it was like Alicia was seeing it through the waves of heat that
rise from a desert road in midsummer.  Then Alicia gasped as the bird
seemed to collapse in on itself.  For the briefest instant, she saw...

   Alicia screamed in terror, the heels of her shoes kicking divots in the
wooden floor as she tried to escape from something that no sane Creator
could ever allow to exist.  Heedless of the arrows that tore ever deeper
into her flesh, she propelled herself across the room until her progress
was brought to a halt by a wall.  Even then, her feet continued to move
frenetically in an attempt to drive herself farther from...it.

   And then it was gone.  In its place was a tiny Asian woman with hair the
same color as the feathers of the great bird.  She strode purposefully
toward Alicia.  Alicia gibbered in horror as the woman tore the arrows from
her body and pulled her to her feet.  Then Alicia's head was ringing from
the force of the slap that the woman delivered across her face.

   "Get a hold on yourself, child," the woman commanded coldly.

   "What...who are you?" Alicia stammered.

   Rolling her eyes in exasperation, the woman answered, "I am the
nightmare that makes you wake in a cold sweat.  I am the shadow in the dark
that makes your hair stand on end and a shiver go down your spine.  I am
death.  And so are you, child.  Now, act like it!  Stand straight!  Put
your head back!  A wolf does not slump and cower like a cur when it walks
among sheep!"

   Whimpering with the pain from her injuries, Alicia still did her best to
comply; something in the woman's voice allowed for no thought of
disobedience.

   The woman noticed her discomfort, "Yes, little one.  Wood hurts and the
wounds that it inflicts are slow to heal.  Still, the pain will fade in
time.  See that you learn from it while it lasts."

   Returning her stare to the corpse strewn room, Alicia asked fearfully,
"How did you do that?"

   "That is nothing you need concern yourself with for several millennia,"
the woman answered.

   The woman glided across the room to stand over Harry.  He, too, had seen
what had been revealed inside the shimmers of change.  There was nothing of
sanity in the eyes which stared blankly into space, no acknowledgment of
the woman's presence.

   Shaking her head in disbelief, the woman asked, "You disobeyed your
Master and risked his wrath for this?  You risked true death for this?  Did
I just save a fool?"

   "No, uh..."

   "You may call me, Lei."

   "Thank you, Lei," Alicia said humbly, "for saving me.  I'm not a fool. I
just needed to kill him, before my Master took me far from here for good.
He hurt me so much for so long..."

   "Well, finish your business quickly, child, and let us be gone from this
place," Lei interrupted brusquely.

   When Alicia continued to hesitate, Lei turned to face her, a perfect
eyebrow lifted in query.

   "I'm sorry, Lei, it's just that after all he's done to me, I didn't want
his death to be easy."

   With a snort of laughter, Lei answered, "So be it.  Begin your feeding.
You need it.  I shall take care of the rest."

   Alicia knelt and pulled Harry forward.  Pleasure and warmth replaced her
pain as his blood filled her mouth.  As Alicia fed, Lei pulled Harry's
shirt up to bare his skin and placed her hand on his back.  Alicia watched
in fascination as Lei's hand seemed to melt into his flesh and writhing
tendrils shot forth under his skin, spreading across his back from the
point of contact.

   As Harry's body began to convulse, Lei whispered, "Reach out to him with
your mind.  You wanted him to suffer.  Feel his agony.  Revel in it for the
fleeting moment it will last."

   Alicia did as instructed.  His pain was greater than Alicia would have
believed that a human body could endure.  It was so intense that her mind
initially shrank back from it.  But Lei was right, Alicia wanted this.  A
smile twisted the corners of her mouth as she mentally embraced his agony,
savoring it until the last of his life flowed into her.

   Amused, Lei commented, "I understand what Arthur sees in you, girl." The
smile faded from her lips as she continued, "Unfortunately for you, I am
not here by sheer happenstance.  We have business, you and I."

   Alicia glanced up into Lei's eyes and found that she could not look
away. The glinting black orbs seemed to grow larger and larger until they
encompassed her vision and consumed all thought.

   Chapter 30

   Dana fidgeted next to Mia on the bed, checking her watch every few
seconds.  Moments before sunset, she bent and pressed her lips to Mia's. 
She thrilled at the sensation of having the vampiress come to life beneath
her.  The limp, still lips became firm and pressed fervently back against
her own and an arm curled up around her to pull her into a tight embrace.

   The kiss lingered for long minutes until, finally, Dana drew back with a
grin.

   Mia smiled back up at her, "That was an interesting way to wake up. 
What brought that on?"

   Dana snuggled in close as she explained, "When I was a kid, my favorite
story was Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.  I always wondered what it
would be like to bring someone back to life with a kiss.  Now I know. 
Sorta, anyway."

   Mia laughed, "That's the first time I've ever played the part of a
princess in distress." She turned her head to look around the room; her
extended senses searched the apartment as her more mundane ones checked her
immediate surroundings.  "Where's Tom?" she asked.

   "He called a little while ago and said that he would be home soon," Dana
replied, "He also said that we were going to try to get you out of the
city." She gestured toward a few overnight bags that were heaped on the
floor near the door, "I took the liberty of packing some of his things and
what few clothes you have, but I have no idea how we're going to get you
out."

   "Should be easy enough.  I'll just run like hell and meet you outside
the city."

   "I don't think it will be that simple.  On tv, they were talking about
the helicopters that would be patrolling the perimeter of the city.  They
showed one flying at a distance and it was equipped with FLIR." At Mia's
confused look, she explained, "Forward Looking Infra Red.  Along with
regular spotlights, it means that they can spot you from the air and be
able to tell that you're a vampire."

   "If they know I'm there, maybe, but I'm the same temperature as my
surroundings.  If they don't know where I am to begin with, they shouldn't
be able to pick me out of the background.  Right?"

   Dana looked dubious, "I don't know, but would you want to take that
risk?"

   "When Tom gets here, we'll sit down as a group and see if we can come up
with any ideas.  For all we know, he might have already made arrangements."

   "Sounds good." Dana's face took on an exaggerated look of innocence as
her fingers traced lightly up Mia's stomach.  "Whatever shall we do to
amuse ourselves until then?"

   With a laugh, Mia pulled Dana's lips back to hers.

   Quite some time later, Mia rolled languidly off the bed.  Dana remained
flat on her back, too out of breath to move.  Almost purring, she struggled
to sit up and then panted, "Wow.  Just wow.  I remember hearing a joke
about a guy who could lick his eyebrows, but I never thought that I would
ever meet someone who actually could."

   With a broad grin, Mia turned back to face Dana.  "Pffft.  He could only
lick one at a time?" she asked derisively as her tongue snaked out. 
Somewhere in the vicinity of her nose, it divided in two.  Each half
stretched up to daintily smooth an eyebrow into place.

   Dana snorted with laughter and then fell back to the bed in a giggling
fit.  Mia quickly joined her.  Several minutes later, still snickering
occasionally, they crawled out of the bed and began to dress.

   "How long has it been since sundown?" Mia asked.

   Dana dug around in the pile of hastily discarded clothes for a few
seconds before triumphantly pulling her watch from the mix.  "Almost an
hour and a half," she answered, "Damn.  No wonder I'm so tired."

   Mia's face creased with worry, "Shouldn't Tom have been back by now?"

   "Yeah, he should have," Dana replied, her voice showing that she shared
Mia's concern.  She dug her cell phone from the pile of clothes and punched
in his number.  "Straight to voice mail," she reported.

   The two quickly dressed and then Dana called Mark, who also hadn't heard
anything.  Agitated now, Mia unsealed the living room window and peered out
into the dark.  With a hasty, "Stay here!" she leapt from the window and
ran to Tom's car which sat abandoned and askew at the end of the street.

   The roof had been partially torn open and the driver's side door had
been ripped completely off.  Mia could smell blood and the cold scent of
her former Master.  She quickly searched the interior of the vehicle and
pocketed the cell phone she found lodged between the seats.  As she circled
the area looking for any hint as to the direction that Tom had been taken,
she caught another brief whiff of blood scent.

   Following her nose she found a few drops on the ground roughly fifty
yards from the car.  Aligning herself with the car and the blood droplets,
she continued forward.  After another fifty yards, she found more drops. 
As Mia moved on this pattern continued.  The trail was so perversely easy
to follow that it could be nothing but a trap.  Briefly, she considered
calling Mark or Dana to arrange for reinforcements, but she knew that if
she showed up with help, Arthur would kill Tom immediately, if he hadn't
already.

   Grimly, she pressed on.  There was no other choice.  The trail continued
in a nearly perfect straight line.  She knew where it would end long before
she reached it.  She topped a hill and there it was, the abandoned steel
mill and industrial ghost town in which she had thought they had disposed
of Arthur's body only a few nights before.



   Chapter 31

   The all encompassing darkness was comfortable and safe.  Tom didn't want
to leave it.  But something alien swooped around the fringes of his
consciousness, driving the shadows back.  Unwillingly, he was herded up
into the light.

   As he came to awareness, he was nearly overwhelmed by the sensations
that poured in from his abused body.  His head throbbed with pain.  Idly he
wondered if he had gotten away with a concussion or if his skull was as
fractured as it felt.  He was lying on his side in what seemed to be
rubble; hard, sharp things pressed and poked uncomfortably against him up
and down the length of his body.  After a brief struggle, he managed to
open his eyes.  Even with blurred vision, he could make out a face, only
inches from his own, staring curiously back at him.

   In a soft, cultured voice, Arthur said, "Welcome back, Detective.  You
were quite difficult to wake, but I just couldn't bear to allow you to
sleep through this."

   Tom felt himself being lifted from the floor by his arm.  He dangled
loosely in Arthur's grip, his knees scraping on the rough floor.  From his
new vantage point he could see that he was in the ruins of a basement, lit
by a multitude of flickering candles.  The portion of the house above him
was intact, or at least the first floor was still in place.  The other half
had collapsed completely, filling the cellar below it with a mound of
rotting wood that ramped up over the sides of the foundation.

   Arthur raised him higher and he could feel rough wood scraping against
the back of his hand and wrist.  Tom knew he should be distressed over his
predicament, but he couldn't even summon enough curiosity to look up. 
Arthur held Tom in place with one hand while holding something in front of
Tom's nose with the other.  Arthur waited patiently until Tom managed to
focus his eyes on the object and then chuckled when Tom gasped in
recognition and fresh fear.

   Tom finally began to struggle, but his blows were too feeble to so much
as inconvenience the immortal.  Silently, Arthur traced the point of the
rusted railroad spike up the length of Tom's arm, stopping just below his
wrist.  Staring into Tom's eyes, Arthur began to push.

   Tom screamed as fresh pain lanced through him.  Hot liquid ran in a
torrent down his arm as the thick, iron spike passed through his flesh and
into the wood beyond.  Desperately, Tom sought to return to the darkness,
to escape from the pain in the oblivion of unconsciousness.  But the alien
presence was still lurking in his mind, and it blocked him from that
comfort.

   "Come now, Tom," Arthur whispered in his ear, "These are the last
moments of your life.  Surely you don't really want to miss them, however
unpleasant they may be."

   Tom screamed again as Arthur spiked his other arm to the transverse
floor joyce that ran across the basement ceiling.  His arms had been spread
wide apart so that his feet dangled inches from the floor, forcing the
pierced and battered flesh surrounding the spikes to bear his full weight.
Tom gritted his teeth as he tried to get a grip on the white hot agony that
flared brightly each time the tremors of his body tore those awful wounds
anew.  Mercifully, the overloaded nerves in his arms soon numbed and the
pain receded slightly.

   Defiantly, Tom spat in Arthur's face and hissed, "I don't care what you
do to me.  I'm not telling you anything."

   Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise before he threw back his head in
laughter.  "Oh my dear boy," he said condescendingly once the laughter had
faded, "this isn't an interrogation.  Have you learned nothing of us from
your time with Mia?  I already know all of your secrets, from the time you
were twelve and pleasured yourself in the catholic school bathroom after
glimpsing the cleavage of one of the nuns to the fact that Mia is even now
in the bedroom of your apartment along with another delectable morsel.

   "You once used Mia as bait in an attempt to lure me into your pathetic
little trap.  I am merely returning the favor.  I left a trail that she
should easily be able to follow.  On that subject, Thomas, I could use your
advice, as one who, like myself, knows Mia intimately.  What do you think
would hurt her more when she arrives: to find you dead; to find you little
more than a rabid animal; or to be forced to fight you after I turn you
into a true fledgling?  Hmmm, then again, perhaps it would be best to keep
you alive until the moment of her arrival and then throw your still beating
heart at her feet."

   Arthur placed a clawed finger under Tom's chin and pushed upwards until
Tom was forced to meet his eyes.  "No opinion on the subject, Thomas?  Or
are you simply trying to play the part of the strong, silent hero?  Ahhh,
that's it, isn't it?  Would you care to wager on whether I can make you
break that silence?  If you can stay quiet for five minutes, I will leave
you here alive for Mia to find and neither of you will ever hear from me
again.  If not, I will make you watch as I crush your lady love beneath my
heel before brutally violating her.  Then, the last thing that you see will
be the look of anguish in her eyes as she watches you die."

   Arthur hooked a claw in the neck of Tom's shirt and drew it downward
before pushing the tattered remnants of the garment to the sides to bare
Tom's chest.  Stepping backwards, Arthur pulled his belt loose and twined
the end with the buckle around his hand.  For a minute the only sounds in
the basement were the sharp cracks of leather striking and cutting skin and
Tom's ragged pants for breath.  Then these sounds were joined by a
prolonged wail.

   Not pausing in his labors, Arthur quietly commented, "You lose, Thomas."

   Suddenly, Arthur staggered backwards as pain and fear flashed through
his bond to Alicia.  He took a few steps in the direction of his distressed
fledgling, his hand stretching out as if to touch her across the distance
that separated them.  Wordlessly, he spun about and ran up the pile of
rubble to exit the basement.  As he rushed in Alicia's direction, her pain
faded and was replaced by pleasure and satisfaction.  He slowed and then
stopped as all emotion faded from the bond, and she began to move rapidly
towards him.

   He had been gone from the basement for no more than ten minutes, but
when he returned there were two cars parked on the cracked and potholed
street in front of the collapsed house.  Arthur pushed his awareness into
the basement and watched as five men, four wearing army uniforms and the
other a black suit, picked their way carefully through the rubble. 
Focusing on the one in the suit, Arthur rifled quickly through his
memories.

   He almost gave away his presence with a laugh.  The man, Agent Morris,
Agent Roper's replacement, had placed a tracking device on Tom's shoulder
earlier in the day.  He had thought to use it to track Tom back to Mia. 
With all of the agent's training in the ways of duplicity, it had never
once occurred to him that Tom would be so naive as to keep such a grand
prize in his apartment.

   Arthur watched the men walk slowly and cautiously across the basement.
One of them whispered, "Jesus Christ Almighty," when they finally caught
sight of the detective, who had once more lapsed into unconsciousness. 
Again Arthur had to stifle his laughter; the man's curse was so oddly
appropriate under the circumstances.

   The men rushed forward and quickly determined that they could not free
Tom without a crowbar.  As they clustered around the hanging body, Arthur
walked to the open end of the foundation to cut off their escape.

   Gliding down the ramp of debris, he called out in a voice ringing with
amusement, "Good evening, Agent Morris.  Welcome to the party.  I
understand that you want to meet a vampire; that you want to try to capture
one and tame it."

   Arthur swatted away the arrows that flew towards him as casually and
indifferently as an ordinary man would swipe at annoying insects.  "You
really should be more careful what you wish for," he drawled as he closed
the gap between them.

   Chapter 32

   When Mia arrived at the semi-collapsed house, she found Arthur taunting
and toying with one man in camouflage and another in a suit.  Three other
men, broken and bleeding, were strewn about the room among toppled and
guttering candles.  Mia ignored them all, completely unable to tear her
sight from the form of her injured lover.  If she couldn't hear the slow
and feeble beating of his heart, she would have believed him to be dead. 
Flaps of skin hung loosely from his torso, flayed off by the touch of a
whip.  A low, pained moan of sympathy escaped her lips as she saw the
manner in which he was being suspended from the floor.

   Her attention was drawn by the crack of gunfire, hugely amplified in the
enclosed space.  The man in the suit, now the only one still standing, had
abandoned his bow and raised a large handgun, which he held in a double
handed grip.  Not even Arthur could dodge bullets in such close quarters.
Large bloody holes appeared in the back of Arthur's suit jacket as the
agent rapidly emptied his clip.  If Arthur experienced any pain from these
injuries, he showed no sign of it.  Laughing lightly, he darted forward and
grabbed the agent's hands and gun.  Mia heard the crackle of bones breaking
and the agent sank to his knees, his face pale with pain.

   Taking advantage of Arthur's distraction, Mia rushed into the basement
with all the speed she could muster.  She raised hands rippling with change
in front of her as she charged.  Her deadly, sharp claws were mere feet
from his back when he spun, dodging her blow even as his free arm flailed
out at her.  She had too much momentum to be able to dodge quickly;
Arthur's arm caught her shoulder and flung her into the wall with such
force that dust filtered down from the weathered floor boards above them.

   As Mia regained her feet, Arthur took hold of the agent's wrists and
swung him forcefully around.  Mia dove back down to the floor and rolled
beneath the blow, hearing the wind whistle around the agent's body as he
passed above her and then the sickening wet thud as he impacted with the
wall.

   Mia sprang to her feet and spun to face her adversary.  Arthur had
dropped the dead agent and now sported claws of his own.

   They circled each other for a moment until Arthur called out, "Wake up,
Thomas!  Your white knight has arrived to save you!" He then cackled with
derisive laughter.

   Tom laboriously raised his head, and his eyes opened to the merest of
slivers.  "Just run, Mia," he croaked despairingly, "Don't worry about me.
Just run."

   "Yes, Bergthora, why don't you run?" Arthur cried out in delight,
"Hunting you down and catching you would be ever so much fun.  I'll even
give you a minute head start.  Of course, I will amuse myself with your
friend while I wait."

   Mia refused to be distracted.  Gritting her teeth, she altered the
changes to her arms and hands so that her skin became hard and chitinous
and then moved forward to attack.  The room echoed with a sound like
continuous rolling thunder as the two immortals exchanged a flurry of
blows, parries and feints.  Within moments, both were covered in a light
sheen of blood and their clothing was in tatters from where claws had only
narrowly missed striking true.

   After a particularly violent exchange, they separated and circled each
other.  Arthur gazed at Mia with grudging respect, "I have to say, my dear
Bergthora, that fighting for the life of your mate has done wonders for
your cunning and ardor.  I am most impressed.  Most impressed, indeed."

   "Shut up and fight, asshole," Mia hissed as she resumed her attack.

   The two moved around the room in a blur of motion, clawed and armored
fist meeting clawed and armored fist in furious and rapid succession.  Dust
fell in constant streams from the ceiling as the old timbers shook from the
raw noise and fury of those tremendous impacts.

   Seeing an opening, Mia drove her fist at Arthur's head.  He ducked as
his hand came up to take hold of her wrist, his claws grating across her
chitinous armor like nails on a chalkboard.  Spinning, he forced her arm
behind her back and drew it inexorably upward.  Mia grunted in pain as her
shoulder dislocated.  Once Mia's hand was behind her neck, Arthur applied
pressure to force her to her knees and then her stomach.  He straightened
and stomped down on her hand and the neck beneath it to hold her in place.

   "You were a worthy adversary, Mia," he said quietly, "So much so, that I
almost regret what must happen next, but your Tom and I did have a wager."

   As Mia heard his zipper descend, she called out in a voice cracked with
pain, "It doesn't have to end like this, Arthur.  Release Tom and I'll
serve you willingly for the rest of my existence."

   "I actually considered that, my dear.  Well, not releasing Tom, but I
did think about simply ripping away your memories of the past few weeks to
return you to how you were when we came to this city.  Alas, dear child,
I'm afraid that you have been replaced, rendered obsolete by a fledgling
who actually appreciates and deserves the Gift that I have given her.  In
fact," he raised his head as he checked the bond to his fledgling, "you
should be meeting her any second now."

   As if summoned, Alicia dropped lightly down into the basement and took
in the scene at a glance.

   "Hello, Alicia, my dear," Arthur greeted her amiably, "I trust you are
well; I sensed that you had some difficulties earlier."

   "Hello, Master," Alicia replied quietly, "I was hungry so I went hunting
and ran into one of the groups of vampire hunters.  They hurt me, but I'm
fine now.  Just a little shaken up."

   "I'm glad to hear it, my dear," Arthur said, "Although we will certainly
have to discuss your disobedience later." Mia was astonished to hear actual
concern and relief in his voice.

   "As you wish, Master," Alica answered as she walked in a slow circle
around Tom.

   She breathed deeply, taking in the delightful aroma of his fear and
despair.  Leaning in, she ran her tongue lightly over his chest, licking up
the blood that still seeped from his flayed skin.  She quivered in pleasure
as the warm fluid trickled down her throat.

   "May I have this one when you're done with him, Master?" she asked.

   Arthur snorted with amusement, "Actually, my dear, I think that would
work out perfectly.  But first, please be so kind as to disrobe the
ungrateful wretch beneath my foot."

   As Alicia strutted over to comply, Arthur twisted his head down until he
could look into Mia's face.  "As I mentioned earlier, Mia, Tom and I had a
wager.  He lost.  Now, I'm sorry to say that I am going to violate you most
gruesomely and then force you to watch as Alicia drains the last bits of
life from your mortal beloved.  Now that I think of it, there is still
plenty of time before dawn.  Perhaps we'll bleed you out a bit and see how
you fare against the feral that he'll become."



   Watching the hope die in her eyes was everything he had hoped it would
be.

   Chapter 33

   Mia stared up at her former Master, wishing that he would stop looking
at her with that arrogant and triumphant smile and just get on with it . 
That she had failed and would pay for that failure with the death of both
herself and her love was punishment enough without being subjected to his
gloating.  She heard Alicia's soft footfalls come to a stop in the vicinity
of her hips and closed her eyes, trying to steel herself against what she
knew was coming next.

   She heard a sharp impact and a soft exclamation of surprise.  Opening
her eyes, she saw that Arthur had lowered his chin to his chest, his face
twisted with confusion, shock and pain.  Following his gaze, she saw the
rough, gray point of one of the splintered pieces of wooden debris that
littered the basement protruding from his chest.

   He spun about and caught Alicia before she could finish her limp descent
to the floor.  Clutching her lifeless body tightly to him, he whispered,
"Why, Alicia?  Why?" over and over again.  His words resonated with such
deep sorrow that, had he been anyone else, Mia would have wept in sympathy.

   But he was Arthur.  Now freed of the foot that had held her to the
floor, Mia rolled to her feet and stood behind him.  He was so lost in his
grief that he took no notice of her movements.  Her uninjured arm moved
swiftly forward, and she took a firm hold on the shard of wood that still
stuck out from his back.  Withdrawing it slightly, she changed its angle
and drove it home once more, this time piercing the heart that Alicia had
missed.  Still holding the fledgling in his cold embrace, the Master
crumpled to the floor.

   Mia kicked him over onto his back to make certain that he was truly
dead, but she had no time to savor her hollow victory.  The profusion of
candles that Arthur had used to light this place had been scattered; first
by his battle with the soldiers and the FBI agent and then by his fight
with her.  Most had guttered and gone out, but some had come to rest among
the piles of dry and moldering wood from the collapsed portions of the
house.  Fires had sprung up in several parts of the basement and were
spreading rapidly.

   Mia ran to Tom's side.  Even with her supernaturally acute hearing, she
had to press her ear to his chest to make out the faint beating of his
heart.

   Although he was unconscious, she still whispered sadly, "I'm sorry, Tom,
but this is really going to hurt."

   Supporting his weight as much as possible, Mia took hold of the head of
one of the spikes and pulled.  With a groan of tortured wood, it came free
in her hand.  She did the same with its twin and lowered Tom to the floor.
Hastily she licked around the massive wounds in his wrists.  With the fire
spreading, there was no time for a full healing, but hopefully this quick
effort would slow the rate at which his life, already so diminished, seeped
from his veins.

   Lifting him gently over her shoulder, she ran out of the basement.  Once
clear of the fire, she laid Tom on the ground and leaned over him.  She was
astonished to see that his eyes were open.  He looked up at her with
preternatural calm.

   "I love you, Mia," he whispered before his eyes closed and his face went
slack.  She could just barely make out the sound of his heart faltering in
his chest.  There was no time for hesitation; no time to ask for consent.
If he rejected what he was about to receive, she would gladly stay outside
with him until the sun's warm rays caressed their bodies.  Biting deeply
into her own tongue, Mia bent to give him the Gift with a kiss.

   When the deed was done and his heart had beat for the last time, she sat
up and closed his sightless eyes with gentle fingers.  She had no idea if
the Gift would take: his death had been caused by mundane injuries rather
than the draining bite of a vampire.  Cold tears rolled down her cheeks as
she softly lifted his head onto her lap and settled down to wait.

   In the distance, she heard the heavy thump of a helicopter's rotors
beating the still night air.  It was getting closer.  She could stay in
that place no longer.  Placing Tom's body over her shoulder, she put her
back toward the sound and ran.  As the landscape blurred past, she pulled
his cell phone from her pocket and made several brief calls.

   When she reached the bank of the Allegheny river, she stopped in sudden
confusion.  Quick glances up and down the river revealed that there were no
nearby bridges, although the collapsed ruins of a piling bespoke of where
one had once stood.  She could not turn back or travel along the bank in
either direction without the helicopter catching sight of her.  She snorted
in self disgust at the sudden realization that Tom no longer had to breathe
any more than she did.

   Well after the helicopter had passed by, Mia emerged on the opposite
side of the river.  Splashing to shore, she hurried off to make the
rendevous she had arranged with Mark and Dana.

   Chapter 34

   The fire in the basement had spread to cover the ceiling with a blanket
of orange and blue flame by the time Alicia sat up and smoothly rose to her
feet.  As she turned to regard Arthur's body, ripples of change coursed
across her form.  Her body mass and height rapidly diminished, her skin
became several shades darker and her hair grew longer and more glossy.

   Lei truly regretted that this had become necessary, but she had warned
Arthur of the consequences of disturbing the balance between human and
vampire too severely.  And the balance had been disturbed, if not in the
way that he had intended or believed.  When she had entered dormancy the
prior morning, the city had been full of ferals.  In fact, there had been
more vampires in the city than had ever existed before in the entire world.
But, by the time she had woke this evening, only a handful remained and
their hungering, raging little minds had been snuffed out before the light
had fully faded from the sky.

   Humanity had adapted to their presence far more quickly than she would
have expected, but, even if they had reacted slowly, the result of any war
between vampire and human was a foregone conclusion.  However strong a
vampire might be at night, humanity's ability to move about during the day
was an insurmountable advantage.  She, herself, was a perfect example. 
During the dark hours she was a veritable goddess, but, during the day, a
determined child with a stick could end her existence without fear.

   The existence of her kind depended on their ability to hide in the
shadows; to conceal themselves among their prey.  That was the reason why
she had created the law.  At this point, concealment was still possible. 
Most humans would think of vampires only in the context of the images of
the mindless ferals that had spread so quickly throughout their
communications networks.  Most remained unaware that sentient vampires
existed and, as the government's lies were disseminated ever more widely,
that ignorance would persist.

   There were a few who knew the truth.  Because of them, Lei and her
children would have to be more careful for a time.  Lei could easily
envisage special forces teams around the world scanning crowds carefully
with IR gear.  Most of her kind, however, were capable of compulsion and
memory alterations, or were under the protection of one who was.  It was
unlikely that any would be revealed.  In the absence of further incidents,
fear and paranoia would gradually be replaced by natural human apathy and
things would return to normal.

   Had she waited any longer to bring an end to Arthur's crusade, it would
not have been so easy.  She could sense a number of her children converging
on this city, coming to enforce the one and only true law that bound them.
In the holds of ships, the cargo bays of planes and in the backs of trucks
they moved ever closer, as cold and implacable as a glacier.  Had humans
witnessed any of the titanic conflicts that would have ensued if Arthur had
still been alive upon the arrival of the others, no mortal would have
rested until every last nook and cranny of the planet had been thoroughly
searched and purged of her kind.

   Her reverie was interrupted by a roar as the ceiling behind her
collapsed in a gout of flame.  Given his age and vitality, she knew that
she should decapitate Arthur to ensure that he stayed dead, but she lacked
the will to do so.  The fire would have to be sufficient.  Giving Arthur's
body a final, silent salute, she leapt from the basement as the remaining
timbers collapsed to bury him forever.  He had been one of her favorite
children, and her world would be diminished by his absence.  While she had
eschewed the ties of Mistress and fledgling in his case, she had watched
and guided him over the centuries, although he had never known it.

   He had been cruel, sadistic and utterly lacking in anything resembling
compassion or mercy; all qualities that are necessary to withstand the
remorseless grind of centuries.  Whether it was because of these qualities
or despite them, she had loved him in her own way, as she loved all of her
children.  Perhaps that was why she had faltered at the last minute and
missed his heart with the improvised stake.  Had Bergthora not quickly
corrected her error, Lei would have been forced to go through the tedious
exercise of erasing everyone's memories, healing their injuries, and
repeating the scene from the beginning.  She wondered if she would have had
the strength of will to impale Arthur a second time.

   Despite everything, he had accomplished his purpose and left behind a
powerful legacy.  In spite of the government's best efforts, the word
"vampire" was on everyone's lips and in their minds.  For the masses, this
would not last long in the absence of further incidents.  Within a few
weeks, most would decide that the government was right, that it had been
nothing but a disease that had now been contained.  Then Brittany would
find a new boyfriend or Lindsey would go back into rehab, and the media and
the masses would forget these dark hours.  But a small nagging fear would
remain in the minds of many artists, scientists and statesman.  That fear
would exhort them to greater efforts, and inspire them, at least in small
ways, in every aspect of their lives.  Fear was, after all, an excellent
motivator.  The world could well be on the brink of a golden age and
humanity would owe it all to a monster.

   She walked slowly around the perimeter of the foundation, until she
reached a thick cluster of bushes.  She gestured and the catatonic form of
the real Alicia slid out from the rough concealment.  Lei's original intent
had been to carry out the reality of the charade she had just played; to
have the fledgling kill her Master and die in the process from the backlash
of the bond.  That plan had not survived meeting the girl in person.  There
were depths of savagery and lust in Alicia that had not yet begun to be
sounded.  Lei had been sufficiently intrigued to spare the fledgling's
life.

   Not that sparing her had taken any significant effort.  As distracted as
he had been, it had been child's play to keep Arthur from noticing that her
position did not exactly match where the bond indicated she should be.  It
had been only slightly more difficult to keep him from consciously
acknowledging that the bond continued to exist even though he believed that
he was holding his lifeless fledgling in his arms.

   Change distorted Lei's form until she was again the great raven. 
Gripping the shoulders of her fledgling prize with talons harder than
steel, she took to the air.  As she passed over the river, a glittering
black eye turned downwards to check the progress of the last crucial part
of her plan: the witnesses.  She focused first on the mortal.  She had
sealed the wounds on his chest in the hope of prolonging his life, but that
had apparently been too little, too late.  Her senses delved deeper and she
saw that the Outsider was already taking hold inside his flesh.  The Gift
had been given and received.

   That would do.  Even as her newest child, he still had strong ties to
the mortal world.  He would relay the news of tonight's events to the
mortal authorities.  Word would spread that the two beings at the root of
the city's strife had been eliminated, no matter what terms the government
and media couched it in.  The others would return to their normal environs
and abandon the hunt for the law breakers.

   Out of idle curiosity, she next examined the mind of Bergthora, or Mia,
as she now chose to be known.  What she found intrigued her almost as much
as Alicia had.  Lei had always considered Mia to be weak and unworthy of
the Gift, but, perhaps, her strength was merely of a different sort than
Lei was used to.  This pair warranted further observation, and Lei decided
that perhaps she wouldn't travel quite so far away as she had planned.

   On sudden whim, Lei froze Mia's mind and swooped in to land near her. 
Changing from avian form to human, she quickly pulled a small packet from
her own pocket and pushed it into Tom's.  It was a small thing that she had
acquired only because she despised waste.  To her it was nothing, but to
this pair it could mean everything.  Her task complete, Lei again took
wing, releasing Mia's mind only when she was well out of sight.

   Chapter 35

   When Tom's awareness returned, he found himself in a very dark place. 
He tried to lift his hand to his face, but there was not enough room.  He
could hear the crinkle of plastic above him, though he could see nothing.
Had he been buried alive?  He began to thrash around, seeking escape.  A
cool hand reached out of the darkness and ran soothingly across his cheek.

   "It's okay, Tom," Mia's voice said from the dark, "We're in the trunk of
Dana's car.  We're safe."

   As he calmed, Tom noticed a peculiar sensation in his mind; a bubble of
emotion seemed to float on the edge of his consciousness.  A bubble that
radiated with warmth.  No, not just with warmth, he realized, but with
love.

   His voice muted with wonder, he asked, "Is that you, Mia?  Inside my
head, I mean."

   "Yes," she answered, and he could feel a tinge of amusement among the
warmth.

   "You're beautiful," he whispered.

   There was a flurry of awkward movement and a few thunks as her limbs
found the limits of the confined space the hard way.  Then her cool lips
were pressing against his.  It was then that he realized that he felt no
pain despite the severe injuries he had suffered.  Although the bubble that
was Mia should have given it away, it was only now that he truly understood
the implications.

   "Am I a vampire?" he asked.  He could feel worry, concern and a bit of
guilt through the bubble.  Those emotions faded into confusion as Mia
realized that, although he was a little fearful and uncertain, he wasn't
upset.

   "Yes," Mia replied, "I'm sorry, but..."

   "Shhh," he interrupted, "It's okay.  I thought I was dead for sure.  You
have no reason to be sorry.  In fact, thanks for saving me."

   "You're not angry," Mia said.  As she was aware of his emotions through
the bond, it was a statement of surprised fact rather than a question.

   "Why would I be?" he asked gently, "I know you, so I also know that
being a vampire does not make one a monster or change who they truly are."

   Lips again pressed against his and lingered until the trunk suddenly
popped open and the tarp was pulled back.  Tom looked up to find Mark and
Dana staring down at them.

   "Ha!" Mark said, "I told you they were canoodling.  You owe me a beer."

   "Pig," Dana muttered, before grudgingly admitting, "But a pig who was
right."

   Tom could hear their hearts beating.  He could almost feel the warmth
flowing off of them.  A ravenous hunger rose from his core and, for the
first time, he experienced the odd sensation of his fangs extending.  As he
began to lurch out of the trunk, Mark and Dana jumped back in surprise.

   Mia threw her arm across his chest to restrain him.  "Calm down, Tom. 
When a new vampire wakes up for the first time, he always wakes up hungry.
Hunger can make you irrational.  You can control the hunger.  Just hang in
there and I'll get you fed.  Okay?"

   Her words had a bigger effect upon him than he would have thought
possible.  Once again in control, he climbed out of the trunk and then
turned to assist Mia in doing the same.

   He looked around at his surroundings curiously.  The car was parked near
a rustic cabin surrounded on all sides by thick forest.  A small dirt road
which ended at the cabin provided the only access.

   "Where are we?" he asked.

   "My Dad's old hunting cabin outside Medix Run," Dana replied, "I figured
that it would be a safe place to hide until everything calms down.  There's
even a little root cellar under a trap door in the main room.  It's damp
and dirty, but it'll be dark."

   Mia led Tom over to the porch.  "Sit here and don't hurt anyone," she
ordered, "I'll be back soon."

   Tom immediately sat as she had told him to.  When he looked at her with
confusion and a hint of fear, she explained gently, "When you took me in, I
told you about the other effects of the bond.  Because I gave you the Gift,
I'm...  Well, technically, I'm your Master.  Or Mistress.  Whatever." She
bent to kiss him lightly on the forehead, "I promise I won't abuse it."

   Mia ran off into the woods, and Dana went inside to open the windows to
air out the musty camp.  When they were gone, Mark sat down near his old
friend with a sigh.

   "Well, ain't this just some shit?" he commented darkly, "How are you
holding up?"

   "If you had told me back when I was assigned to investigate the murders
that it would result in me becoming a vampire, I would have had you
committed.  I'm not going to lie to you, Mark, I'm still not sure what to
make of all this.  I love Mia, and I know that if she hadn't turned me, I
would be dead.  Under the circumstances, I'm certainly not mad at her.  In
fact, I'm grateful.  But still..."

   When it became apparent that Tom wasn't going to continue, Mark asked
quietly, "What's it like?"

   "Hard to describe.  Everything is clearer, brighter.  As dark as it is,
I can make out every leaf on every tree in perfect clarity.  I can not only
hear some small animals moving around in the woods, but I can hear their
hearts beating.  Oh, and the smells!" Gesturing toward a section of forest,
he continued, "There is a field of flowers right past that stretch of
woods. I can distinguish the separate odors of more than five different
kinds.  The rich, earthy scent of the forest is like nothing I could have
imagined.  If that were all there was to it, I would be ecstatic.  But
there's another side.

   "When you and Dana opened the trunk, I could smell you both, and you
smelled good.  Good enough to eat.  I could hear your hearts beating in
your chests and the sigh of breath passing through your lungs.  It made me
hungry, Mark.  A ravenous, overwhelming hunger that I couldn't control or
ignore.  If it hadn't been for Mia..." he broke off with a shudder.

   Dana had emerged unnoticed from the camp and overheard the last. 
Dropping to her knees behind Tom, she embraced him lightly from behind,
"We'll help you get through this, Tom.  We know you wouldn't really hurt
us."

   Tom reached up to squeeze her hand lightly in thanks even as he shook
his head.  "That's just it," he said, "I think I would have hurt you.  Part
of me would have been screaming in horror, but the hunger was in control.
Mia has said a few times that new vampires need to feed when they rise.  I
hope that means that the hunger I felt is unusual, even unique, but what if
it's not?  What if it's like that every time?"

   Dana patted his shoulder soothingly, "Look at this logically, Tom. 
You've been around Mia for a while now.  You know that she's a decent
person.  She could have bit us at any time, but hasn't.  That's so even
though you know she's had to have been hungry at least a few times.  If she
can control the hunger, you can, too."

   "That's what I told her and what I've been telling myself.  I hope we're
right."

   The three sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes until Mark
began to snicker.  When the other two turned to look at him questioningly,
he raised a hand in supplication.  "Sorry to break the mood," he said, "but
it was getting a little maudlin.  I was just looking forward to Mia getting
back.  She's already taught Tommy here to sit.  Maybe she'll teach him how
to roll over or fetch next."

   With a scowl of mock indignation, Tom said, "Go ahead and yuck it up,
big guy.  Just remember, piss me off enough and you just might end up
happily fetching my slippers every night." By way of demonstration, Tom
bared the fangs that he hadn't quite figured out how to retract.

   The snickers turned into guffaws as Mark blurted out, "I don't think so,
slave boy.  As I recall, your Mistress ordered you to sit still and not
hurt anyone." His laughter increased in volume as he added, "Well at least
buying you a Christmas present will be easy this year.  All I have to do is
find a place that sells latex body suits and ball gags."

   Dana began to sputter with laughter of her own as she joined in on the
abuse, "On the bright side, Tom, turning into a vampire got rid of that
little gut you were growing.  You might even look good in nothing but a
leather g-string and nipple clamps."

   Tom did his best to maintain an air of wounded dignity, but their
laughter was too infectious.  When Mia returned with two deer in tow, she
found the three of them clutching onto each other gasping for breath as
they tried to recover from their merriment.

   At the sight of them, Mia's guilt over making light use of the power of
suggestion to nudge Mark and Dana's minds so that they would be more apt to
apply reason to the situation than fear or superstition faded.  The
transition from mortal to vampire was traumatic enough without adding
rejection from those you cared about.

   Walking up to the trio, she shook her head in amusement, and addressed
Mark and Dana, "You two really might want to go inside for this.  It can
be...unpleasant."

   Once they had gone into the camp, Mia turned to Tom.  "Let your hunger
loose," she directed.

   Immediately, the ravenous hunger that he had felt earlier resurfaced, as
strong as ever.  He focused on the deer's heartbeat and moved forward.

   When he rose from the carcass with a last shudder of pleasure, he
commented, "Definitely not surf and turf, but there were certainly benefits
that I've never gotten from any steak."

   Mia smiled up at him from where she had finished feeding on her own
deer. "Yeah, I think we'll be able to make do with this."

   Tom replied, "I don't see why we couldn't.  You've been doing some
amazing things since you switched to animals." He was astounded by the
massive rush of guilt that flowed through the bond.  "What's the matter?"
he asked, alarmed.

   Her eyes downcast, Mia confessed, "There should have been ten survivors
at the hotel.  Not nine." As she had expected, her words inspired a turmoil
of emotions in her lover's mind.  When they settled down, she was surprised
but ecstatic that love, strong and undiminished, remained as his primary
emotion.

   "You were pretty beat up that night.  I'm guessing that you felt pretty
much like I did when the trunk opened?" At her nod, he continued, "I can
hardly fault you for that.  If you hadn't stopped me, I would have attacked
our friends.  I wouldn't have been able to stop myself."

   "You're not horribly disappointed in me?"

   "How could I be?  But, from now on, let's promise each other that we
will stick to our furry friends.  Okay?"

   "I promise," she said.

   "So, not to change the subject, but what was that Arthur called you? 
Bergthora?"

   "With all that was happening, with all your injuries, you managed to
remember that?" she asked incredulously.

   "Mighty hard to forget."

   With a sigh, Mia muttered, "I told you that I came from a village in
eastern Russia that had been settled by the Norse.  You didn't really think
Mia was my given name, did you?"

   "So what was your full given name?"

   "Why on earth would you want to know that?"

   "Well, if I'm going to be married to a woman for eternity, I figure that
I should at least know her real name."

   Mia said softly, "Bergthora Aerickova."

   As Tom stifled a snicker, she said defensively, "For the time and place,
it was a very respectable name, I'll have you know."

   She was silent for a moment before adding loftily, "Married?  What makes
you think I'll have you?  You're already my slave, so what's in it for me?"
When Tom began to sputter, she relented, "I'm joking.  Now, as Ms.  Bara
would say, 'kiss me, my fool.'"

   As they pressed together, they heard something crinkle in Tom's pants
pocket.  Perplexed, he reached in and pulled out a ziplock bag containing
several sheets of paper.  When he opened it, he found each page was divided
into four columns, two of numbers and two of words, all written in a neat
script.

   "What do you make of this?" he asked.

   "Where did you get it?"

   "Beats me, but the only people I've been around all night are you,
Arthur and Alicia."

   "You remembered Bergthora, but can't recall who stuck their hands in
your front pocket?"

   "As you might recall, I was unconscious for a lot of it."

   "True.  Well, I think we can rule Arthur out, but why would Alicia give
you this?  Why would she even have it?  I never did."

   "You know what it is?"

   "Look at the third column.  It's all bank names.  I think this is a list
of all of Arthur's accounts and the passwords to access them."

   "Huh.  That would mean..."

   "Yeah.  We're filthy, stinking rich."

   They sat in silence for a time, considering their unexpected good
fortune, before Tom spoke up, "Think you can teach me how to do that change
thingy?" As he asked, Mia caught several strong images from his mind.

   With a burst of laughter, she cried out, "I can't believe you!  I give
you the gift of immortality and incredible physical and mental abilities
and the first thing you think to use it for is to make your penis bigger?!
Dana's right.  Men are pigs."

   "Amen, sister," Dana said with a chuckle from behind them as she and
Mark emerged from the cabin.

   "Well, if you kids are going to be okay, Dana and I had better get back
to the city before anyone gets suspicious," Mark said.  As he hobbled off
towards the car, he stopped and turned to face Tom, "Before I go, though,
let's hear it."

   "Hear what?" Tom asked, confused.

   Switching to his best Bela Lugosi impersonation, Mark replied, "I vant
to suck your blood."

   Laughing uproariously at his own humor, and ignoring the rolled eyes and
grunts of disgust from everyone else, Mark resumed his trek.

   Dana lingered behind, "Um, I kinda wanted to ask you two something."

   "Ask away," Mia replied.

   "Well, I was thinking.  In all the movies, vampires have minions to take
care of them during the day.  Dracula had Renfield.  Dandridge had Billy
Cole.  I was thinking..."

   "You want to live with us?" Mia asked, nonplused.

   "Well, yeah.  If that's okay with you two," Dana answered shyly.

   With the bond, there was no need for Tom and Mia to confer.  Standing,
they walked over to the embarrassed young woman and wrapped their arms
around her.

   "Welcome to our really weird family," Tom said with a grin.

   "And if you're good, we won't even make you eat bugs," Mia dead panned.

   Laughing somewhat uncertainly, Dana promised to return as soon as she
could, and then walked off to join Mark in the car.

   After Mark and Dana had left, Tom and Mia sat entwined on the porch
until the sky began to brighten with the coming dawn.  For the first time,
they dared to talk about the, hopefully, long and happy future that awaited
them.

   Neither of them noticed the monstrous bird that watched them from the
middle branches of a huge oak tree just inside the forest.

   Lei watched the pair until the horizon began to brighten with the coming
day.  With a caw that sounded suspiciously like laughter, she flapped her
monstrous wings and took flight toward the cabin she had appropriated for
Alicia and herself.  She was almost giddy as she considered this new
experiment that could potentially occupy centuries.

   Although the Gift granted the potential of immortality, the reality was
far more limited.  Lei had yet to find a single other being whose desire
for life was as indomitable as her own.  When she had first joined with the
Outsider, she had given the Gift to all of the great philosophers of the
day, whether they wanted it or not.  The thought of what their exceptional
minds could accomplish with an eternity to work with had made the future
seem so bright.  She had been sorely disappointed when few had lasted so
much as a decade and none longer than a century.

   Most had ended their own existence almost immediately, unable to contend
with the crushing guilt that came from taking the lives of others to
sustain their own.  Others, unwilling to give their loved ones what they
perceived to be a curse, gave into despair when friends, spouses, children
and grandchildren grew old, withered and died while they, themselves,
remained unchanged.  A final few had been unable to bear an eternity of
endless night.  Unwilling to exist forever without the sun's touch, they
had instead decided to greet it.

   Since that time, Lei had chosen the recipients of the Gift based on
strength of will, innate intelligence and absolute callousness towards
others.  These criteria didn't work as well as she might have hoped.  Even
the most cold hearted eventually succumbed to madness when the very nations
in which they had been born grew decadent, collapsed and were consigned to
the dung heap of history.  Time marches ever onward, and only a very rare
few could keep pace.

   In nearly seven thousand years, she had given the Gift no more than
thirty times.  Now that Arthur was gone, only four remained.  Of those, the
eldest was barely a thousand and the rest significantly younger.  As for
the rest of the double handful of her kind, fledglings of fledglings, Mia
was among the eldest.  Nothing, it seemed, lasted forever other than Lei
herself.

   Perhaps the answer had been in front of her all along, ignored and
disdained.  Certainly, Lei had never had much use for the emotion other
than as a tool to get what she wanted.  Could love allow Mia and Tom to
endure where less gentle traits had failed?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  Only
time would tell.  Time, however, was one thing Lei had in abundance.


   End note: Love it?  Hate it?  Let me know at dptom@live.com 



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