In the bedroom, Pearl sat at Jackson's bedside, and Nia and Jahlil sat on chairs that surrounded the bed. David knelt beside Nia.

"What do you think, Pearl?" David said.

"He is in shock," she said, "due to having lost a tremendous amount of blood. I cleaned and redressed his wound. However, to have the best opportunity to recover, he needs a transfusion."

"A blood transfusion?" David asked. "We'd have to take him to the hospital for that, and you know-"

"-the hospital has been overrun with vampires, and the blood supply doubtless raided," Pearl said. "I understand that the circ.u.mstances are not in our favor, David. I will do the best I can"

"What if we take him to another hospital?" Nia said. "There's one in Hernando. It's only a fifteen minute drive."

"We can't leave town " Jahlil shook his head. "I tried. The bridge is torn up, and I bet the other roads out of here are blocked, too. They've thought of everything, man." He sniffled, wiped his nose angrily with his blood-stained shirt. "My dad ... he's not gonna make it, is he?"

"I have witnessed many miracles in my life, child," Pearl said. She held Jahlil's hands. "Please, keep hope"

Pearl resumed her healing treatment, which she called Reiki. Her eyes closed, her face serene yet concentrated, she slowly moved her hands across Jackson's body, keeping her palms balanced above his skin. Reiki, she said, was simply a method of channeling and directing life force energy. In the absence of high-tech medical equipment and a staff of doctors, it was the most powerful technique at her disposal. As David watched, he thought about the irony of Jackson's condition. He needed a blood transfusion in the midst of a vampire attack, for G.o.d's sake. If they merely took Jackson into the fray of battle, he was sure the vampires would be willing to share a little blood.

Not funny, he thought.

Rain rapped against the windows; the storm clouds had finally begun to shed their burdens. Occasionally a strong wind buffeted the house, like a punch thrown by a furious spirit.

How long would it be before the vampires located them? Surely, they were searching. The fiends would not rest until they had found them.

He looked away from the window.

Nia rose out of her chair.

"Pearl, can I use your bathroom?" Nia said. "I need to clean myself up ""

Pearl turned, her hands hovering over Jackson's chest. "Of course. You will find towels in the cabinet underneath the sink." Her dark eyes went to David. "Make yourselves at home, there is some tea I've already brewed in the kitchen, and food if you are hungry. I will be treating Chief Jackson for quite some time."

"Thank you," David said. "Jahlil, can I get you anything?"

"No," he said quickly. "I'm staying in here"

That kid is tough, but he's held together with thin wire right now, David thought. He wished he could do something, but there was nothing he could do. All he could do was pre pare himself to step in and be a friend for Jahlil, like he had promised Jackson that he would.

Jackson's features were slack and peaceful. Gone was the melancholy expression that habitually dragged down the police chief's face, making him look twenty years older. But David found the man's placid visage disturbing.

He looked like a dead man on display in a coffin.

Chapter 22.

t Emma Mae's, the party was in high gear.

.After Emma's announcement at the town meeting, people had begun showing up at her place around eight o'clock. By eleven-thirty, cars and pickup trucks crowded the street, parked b.u.mper-to-b.u.mper for the entire block. Her house was full of loud, carefree people who knew how to have fun. Playing Bid Whist and poker. Eating ribs, chicken, and corn on the cob. Drinking beer and Hennessy. Telling stories and talking s.h.i.t.

The thunderstorm had knocked out the electrical power, but Emma was prepared for that; candles and kerosene lamps burned in every room downstairs. She had batteries for the boom box, so she could play hits nonstop by Bobbie Blue Bland, Wilson Pickett, and B.B. King. She'd flung up the garage door and set up the big barbecue grill on the edge of the garage floor, fragrant smoke blowing into the air as she served up a seemingly endless supply of ribs and chicken.

No one was going to stop her from partying. Least of all some vampires. Who believed in those d.a.m.n things, anyway? She'd believe it when she saw one with her own eyes.

Lillie, of course, believed that nonsense. As Emma stood at the kitchen counter, brushing her special barbecue sauce on another steaming slab of ribs, she looked out the window and saw the glow of Lillie's cigarette as her sister hid behind the curtain at her home next door. Spying on Emma, as usual. Emma sneered. If the old heifer was so curious about what was going on, she should've brought her skinny a.s.s over here.

You better take Blood to the hospital, you old fool, Lillie had said after the town meeting. I know you lying about him having a hangover; I heard that man got bit by one of them demon dogs ...

Emma had told Lillie that she didn't know what the h.e.l.l she was talking about and she needed to mind her own business. But inwardly, she worried. Blood was still asleep. That man had never slept through a party in his life, but she couldn't wake him for anything. He would only groan and shift on the bed. He was running a bit of a fever. She had put a cold towel on his forehead, to try to break the fever, and it didn't seem to help. She was really beginning to worry, but she wasn't going to take him to the hospital so they could pump him full of drugs and do government experiments on him like he was some kinda lab rat. She didn't trust the hospital in town, not after what had been said at the meeting.

If Blood wasn't better by morning, she would take him to a hospital in Southaven. In the meantime, she would continue to check on him every hour. It was, in fact, about time she looked in on him again.

She finished slathering sauce on the ribs, then placed the meat in a foil-lined pan. She took the pan to the serving table in the corner of the kitchen. Elmer Jackson, the police chief's cousin, and Buster Hodges, the daddy of Junior, the kid who cut her gra.s.s, hunched over the table, piling food on their plates.

"Where's your boy, Buster?" Emma said. "I ain't seen him here tonight."

"Don't know where that kid at," Buster said. "Probably out working. You know that boy ain't happy 'less he working somewhere ""

"Ain't that the truth," Elmer said. "Boy been saving up to buy a truck from me. He came by the lot and told me to save him that black ninety-eight Ford pickup I done had for a few months. Said he was gonna buy it."

"He ain't gonna buy s.h.i.t," Buster said. "That boy got pipe dreams, like his mama did."

"Aww, let the boy have his dreams," Emma said. She set down the ribs on the table. "He's a sweet kid."

Buster grumbled and stabbed a chicken thigh with his fork. Emma almost told him that his son wasn't the only one who'd had a dream once, but she let it go. Buster hated to be reminded of his pro boxing days. A couple of years ago, at another of her card parties, Elmer-never one to bite his tongue-had told Buster that he'd lost a hundred dollars betting on his sorry a.s.s in a fight, and Buster had launched across the table and knocked Elmer on his tail with his fearsome right hook. Since then, Elmer had avoided coming within ten feet of Buster.

But look at them now, Emma thought. The men were fellowshipping like true brothers, eating together. It proved that when things got too heavy to bear, there was nothing like an old-fashioned house party to set things right. A party was good for the soul.

She went through the house, smiling to herself. All around her, folks were having a good time. On the boom box, Wilson Pickett crooned his signature song, "In the Midnight Hour."

Earl Jones, a card-party regular, jumped up from his seat at the poker game as Emma walked past. Drunk as a skunk, he took her hand and twirled her around in a little dance.

Emma giggled, feeling like a teenager again. That heifer, Lillie, didn't know what she was missing, staying cooped up in her house like the crazy old woman in the fairy tale who lived in a giant shoe. The only difference was that Lillie had that p.i.s.sy weiner dog, Rex, instead of a bunch of cats.

All the cats are gone outta this town, Lillie had said, earlier. Did you notice that, you old fool? All the cats are gonescared off by those demon dogs!

Lillie and her superst.i.tions. Emma didn't care about some d.a.m.n alley cats.

Earl stumbled in the middle of his jig, and Emma helped him sit down.

"You better sit your tail down and get back to them cards," she said. "You can't hang with me, baby."

"Don't mean I don't wanna try," Earl said. He flashed a l.u.s.ty grin that was highlighted by a shiny gold tooth.

"You better not let Blood hear you say that" She smiled. "I'm 'bout to bring him down here"

"About time, wake that gimp-legged n.i.g.g.a up," Earl said. He expertly riffled his cards in his big hands. "I wanna get him at this table and clean out his pockets"

"You hush," Emma said.

Upstairs, the hallway was dark; Emma had not bothered to place a candle around the staircase since no one but her had any business going up there, and she had lived in the house for so long she could walk around blindfolded. But the blackness seemed especially thick and warm, shot through with glints of purple. Just her eyes playing tricks on her, she figured. But Lillie's superst.i.tions rang through her mind.

Those vampires are demons, Lillie had said. You believe in demons, don't you? If you believe in G.o.d, you gotta believe in the Devil, too, sister. Demons are the Devil's minions...

"Ain't no such thing," Emma mumbled under her breath. She opened the door to the master bedroom.

Inside the room, a candle on the nightstand cast flickering light.

Blood sat on the edge of the bed, head lowered. He was bare-chested, and wore only his blue pajama bottoms. Curly gray hairs shone on his thin chest.

"How long you been up, baby?" Emma said. She began to walk toward him, ready to check his temperature. "Let me take a look at you"

When Blood raised his head and looked at her, she halted.

An icy finger slid down her spine.

Something was wrong with Blood. The wrongness was in his dark, red-rimmed eyes. Looking into those eyes of his was like looking at a rattlesnake.

Instinctively, she broke eye contact.

"Come on over here, brown sugar," he said. His voice was raspy, but commanding. "I wanna hold your fine body in my arms"

Blood called her "brown sugar" whenever he wanted to romance her, but there was nothing flirtatious about his manner, not this time. His jaw was tight. His fingers clenched and unclenched. He looked like a man who was ready to rumble, not make love.

What was wrong with him? Had the fever cooked his brain into stew?

Or was Lillie right?

Emma took a step backward, the floorboard creaking beneath her.

"Where you going, woman?" Blood rose. He moved with a silkiness that she had never seen from him, as though his bad leg were a thing of the past. "I want you to come to me"

"What's ... what's wrong with you?" she said. She had to force out the words, her heart was pounding so hard.

"Ain't a d.a.m.n thing wrong with me, baby. I ain't never felt so good in my life." He laughed. "I wanna make you feel good like I do"

Emma couldn't be sure because of the quivering light and shadows, but when he had opened his mouth to laugh, she thought she had seen long, sharp teeth. The kind of teeth a dog would have.

Or a vampire.

Lillie's know-it-all voice played in her mind: I told you the truth, you old fool. Why don't you ever listen to me?

Blood spread his arms. "Come on over to me, brown sugar. Lemme make you feel good"

Spinning around to run was so hard for Emma, it was like trying to move when submerged in water. The air itself seemed to push against her to keep her from getting out of there. But she broke out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

The darkness in the hallway swallowed her. She was careless for not lighting a candle up here.

On the other side of the door, the floorboards groaned. Blood was coming. There was no way to keep him from getting out. She couldn't lock the door from this side.

But she had a houseful of people who could help her. Big, strong men like Buster. They could help her handle Blood, whatever was wrong with him.

She ran across the hall, b.u.mping into things. She flew down the steps so quickly she nearly tripped over her own feet.

"Girl, what you running for?" Earl said. Cards in one hand, he tipped up his gla.s.s full of Hennessy, taking a long gulp. He burped, then chuckled. "You come back looking for a real man to handle you?"

Emma opened her mouth to speak-and then she saw movement outside the living room windows.

The curtains were peeled back, giving a view of the front yard. There was a gang of people out there. Folks with pale, grimy faces. Dressed in hospital gowns with dark stains across the front. They moved like wolves on the prowl, hunched over, muscles tensed and ready to pounce, intent on a single, deadly objective.

Emma could not believe it. But it was right there in front of her face.

Her buzz drained out of her like water slipping away in a tub.

"Lock the doors!" Emma cried. "Everybody, we being attacked!"

People gaped at her, their eyes glazed. Like she had stood up and shouted something in j.a.panese.

"What the h.e.l.l you talking 'bout, Emma?" a man said in a slurred voice. "You just drunk, old gal."

To h.e.l.l with waiting on these drunk fools, she thought. She hustled across the living room to lock the front door.

The door exploded open. Emma stumbled backward. Cold wind and rain swooped inside, and two of those vam- pirelike things leapt onto the threshold, hissing, their fangs bared.

Emma screamed and ran.

All around the house, windows shattered as if from the force of a tremendous gale, but deep in her heart she knew it was no wind that was responsible. Those monsters had probably surrounded her house, and were breaking inside.

With all the folks lounging around her place, coming here would be like a feast for those creatures.

She itched to get her shotgun. But the one she wanted was in her bedroom closet. She couldn't go up there. Blood would be waiting.

She raced into the kitchen. Windows were busted in there, too, and one of those creatures must have hurled itself through the hole-she saw one that looked as if it used to be a young woman. h.e.l.l, it looked kinda like Shenice Stevens, who'd won the town beauty pageant last year. But if it were really her, s.h.i.t, she looked like a mess.

The female monster had cornered Buster Hodges. Buster held up his ma.s.sive fists in a boxer's stance, his face resolute. The creature darted toward him. Buster threw his famous right hook-and hit nothing but air. The vampire moved way too fast. It seized Buster's arm and bit into his meaty bicep. Buster cried out, and his legs sagged.

Within seconds, the creature had climbed on top of him like she was s.e.xing him up, but its mouth was attached to Buster's neck, and the greedy, sucking sounds made Emma's stomach turn.

Emma was too frightened to try to help him. She whammed through the door at the back of the kitchen, stumbled into the garage.

The barbecue grill spat and sizzled, pungent smoke pouring through the half-open garage door and into the night air.

Throwing this party was the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life, she thought, more lucidly than she had thought anything all evening. This town has slid into a corner of h.e.l.l, and here I am throwing a f.u.c.king party. How could I be so dumb? I should've split the minute I walked out of that church.

But it was too late to get away. Vehicles blocked the driveway, keeping her from backing her Ford out of the garage. She would've even taken someone else's car to get away, but she'd have to go back inside the house to find keys, and she was afraid to go back in there.