Screams of pain and sounds of mayhem came from her house. The cacophony of furniture being overturned. Gla.s.s shattering. Guns boomed, too; many of the folks at the party carried pieces.

Emma wondered whether a gun would do any good against these demon fiends. In the movies, guns never killed vampires.

Hadn't they said something at the church about fire being lethal to those monsters?

She looked at the barbecue grill. Small flames danced in the charcoal pit, licking at the burned ribs.

She found a length of wood lying in the corner, left over from one of Blood's woodworking projects. She doused the end of the plank with lighter fluid, and dipped it into the wriggling flames in the grill. The tip of the wood lit up with a whoosh, the heat baking the sweat on her face.

"You know better than to play with fire, brown sugar." It was Blood. He entered the garage through the kitchen doorway.

His fangs were fully exposed, rivulets of saliva running down his chin. Hunger gleamed in his eyes.

"You stay away from me, Blood," Emma said. She waved the torch in front of her. "I don't wanna hurt you"

Blood's gaze warily followed the flames. He was clearly afraid of fire. He circled her, slowly, and she turned to keep the torch between them.

Anguish twisted his face. "I got to have you, brown sugar. Can't help it. I got to. I can't control it."

"You ain't gotta do nothing but stay away from me ""

He growled, feinted at her. Emma thrust the torch toward his chest. He screeched as the flames seared his flesh-a horrible sound she had never heard him make, not even when he had once dropped his cane and tumbled down a flight of stairs. She felt guilty, just for an instant, and pulled back, and it was in her moment of weakness that Blood swung his arm, backhanding her across the face.

She had never been hit so hard in her life. She flew several feet across the garage and smashed into a wheelbarrow.

Roaring, Blood shambled after her. He fell on top of her.

Emma was a strong woman, stronger than many men, probably stronger than Blood when he was an ordinary man, but she was weak compared to this creature. She tried to wrestle from under him, but couldn't move him. She bucked her knee into his groin, and it made no difference. She tore her teeth into his forearm, and he didn't release his hold on her.

He dipped his head down to her neck so eagerly that his skull b.u.mped against her chin, making her bite her tongue at the same instant that his teeth pierced her neck. Warm blood spurted in her mouth.

He drank from her like a child suckling at a mother's breast, moaning.

Hmm ... this isn't so bad, she thought, and sighed. It feels good to let him suck from me. I don't think I've ever felt anything so good in my life.

That old heifer, Lillie, doesn't know what she's missing ...

Lillie Mae stood at the window, watching the happenings at her sister's place, until the monsters arrived.

When those blood-drinking demons lurked toward Emma's house, Lillie s.n.a.t.c.hed the curtains closed and stepped away from the gla.s.s.

"I told that old fool not to throw that party," Lillie muttered. She drew on her cigarette. "Mule-headed girl never wants to listen to me ""

Although her words were harsh, she was frightened. The devil was loose in town. She felt sorry for her sister and wished she could help her, but there was nothing she could do, not really. She was just an old woman with bad lungs and a toy dog whose bark was bigger than his bite.

She shuffled across the living room. A single candle glowed in a dish on the nightstand. She usually liked candlelight; it reminded her of when she was a child, at a time when the world was a kinder, more considerate place. But this candlelight only stirred her fear. The shifting patches of shadows in the room seemed to conceal threatening things.

Perched on the arm of the sofa, Rex whined softly. The dog picked up on her anxiety, as if they shared a telepathic bond. He watched her with his big, black eyes, his short tail thumping nervously. He suffered from what she called the "Little-Big Dog" syndrome and tended to bark at everything that wandered into the yard, from squirrels to cats to fallen leaves, but tonight, he stayed on the couch, and he kept quiet.

The dog was no fool. It understood danger was near.

"We gonna be all right, little man," Lillie said. She placed her thin hand on the dog's back, while her other hand picked up the phone off the nightstand. She was going to call the police. She could do something to help Emma and her boozing friends.

There was no dial tone. She put the handset back on the cradle.

She was not surprised. The devil was crafty, he sure was. Clipping the phone lines throughout the town would have been one of his first moves. Cut off the people from civilization and hope.

Sounds of terror reached her from next door. Banging, shouting, breaking, shooting, screaming.

She touched the crucifix that dangled on her necklace. She prayed that G.o.d would keep Emma and the other folks safe, but even as she prayed, doubts crept into her spirit. Emma never listened to anyone. This would be one time that her stubborn nature would get her into trouble. Lillie hated to think such thoughts, but she couldn't help it.

"Dear Lord, have mercy," she said, and her words seemed loud in the silent house, so loud that she wondered if someone might hear her. Or something.

Rex stopped wagging his tail.

Lillie quietly extinguished her smoke in a tin ashtray.

Noise at the front window. Tap-tap-tap-tap. A brittle sound like a skeletal finger clicking against the gla.s.s.

She lived in an old house, and sometimes it creaked and made settling sounds, but this noise was nothing like that: it had purpose.

Someone was at the window. Someone with evil in his heart. A tangible malevolence seeped through the gla.s.s and into the house, like foul smoke.

Fortunately, heavy curtains covered the window. But she wondered whether the creature outside had the power to see through the fabric, and if it was watching her at that moment standing stock-still beside the couch with one hand on her dog and her other hand closed over her crucifix.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

She closed her eyes.

Please, Lord, send them away. Put a fence around me. Keep me safe.

Under her hand, Rex trembled. But the little dog kept quiet, though his heart throbbed in a frenzy.

She held her breath, praying fervently.

The wind soughed around the house, and it seemed to carry away the threat. The feeling that she was being watched pa.s.sed.

She exhaled. She didn't realize that she had been holding her breath.

The commotion continued next door. But she had been spared. Thank the Lord.

She was not going to take any more chances. She gathered Rex in her arms, picked up her Bible off the coffee table, blew out the candle, and went to the bas.e.m.e.nt.

It was a comfortable hideaway; her son had lived down there for a year after he graduated college. There were no windows, the walls were brick, and the door was thick and strong. An old refrigerator held bottled water, apple juice, cheese, bread, and Spam. She had stocked up earlier that afternoon, in preparation for a time like this.

She would remain down there until she received a sign that danger had pa.s.sed.

She lit another candle, and settled onto the old, sunken couch. Rex hopped onto the cushion beside her and snuggled up against her leg. She cracked open her Bible to the book of Revelations-in her opinion, the most frightening thing ever written, but an appropriate choice for tonightand began to read, picking up from where she had left off earlier in the evening.

" And I saw a beast coming out of the sea. He had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on his horns, and on each head was a blasphemous name ...' "

At Pearl's house, David sat on a rocking chair in the screened-in porch, drinking chamomile tea. He'd needed a reprieve from the anxiety that permeated the air inside the house. Perhaps Pearl had worked miracles before, but all of them worried about Jackson's fate.

Cool air swirled through the screen, touched him with its fingers. Silvery rain pummeled the earth, and lightning occasionally made a jagged crack in the dark clouds. In the porch, a candle on a small table provided the only steady light.

What a night, he thought. If we can survive until morning, maybe we have a chance.

The door opened, startling him. But it was only Nia. A white towel hung over her shoulder, and her face looked clean and fresh.

"It's a little chilly out here," she said.

"The tea's keeping me warm. I brought some for you. Come have a seat." He patted the chair beside him, picked up the silver teakettle, and poured tea into an extra mug.

"You're a sweetheart" She settled next to him and took the cup.

For a minute, it seemed to him that they were somewhere else; perhaps at a quaint bed-and-breakfast in a scenic coastal town somewhere, winding down after a pleasantly tiring day of sight-seeing, shopping, and eating in charming restaurants. They would enjoy the serenity of the night and then retire to their bed, make love, and sink into the warm folds of sleep.

He shook his head, as though waking from a daydream.

"What's wrong?" she said.

"I was dreaming that we were somewhere else," he said. "Where we could enjoy each other in peace"

"What a nice thought" She smiled, took a sip of tea. "I feel like I've been living a nightmare tonight. It's kind of relaxing to imagine being somewhere else."

A companionable silence enveloped them. The only sounds were the faint sputter of the candle, the drumming rain, and the whispering wind.

"When this is over," he said, suddenly, "I want us to be together."

She shifted to face him.

"I want to be with you, too, David. More than I've ever wanted to be with anyone"

He touched her face, ran his fingers through her hair. He softly kissed her lips.

Although he'd said he wanted them to be together, he didn't have a full understanding of what he meant. Did he want to marry her, live with her, or what? He couldn't nail down his feelings and define specifically what being together involved. He knew only that his desire to be with her was as powerful as his need to breathe.

Or do I know more than that about my feelings? he wondered. I need to be honest. Completely.

"We haven't known each other very long, but I feel as if I've lived a lifetime with you," he said.

"What are you trying to say, David?" Curiosity danced in her eyes.

He smiled, self-consciously. "Am I beating around the bush, or what?"

She only looked at him, smiling.

He sucked in a breath.

"I love you," he said.

Her grin was like sunshine breaking through an overcast day. "I love you, too, David."

He grasped her hand, kissed it. "I really believe ... we were meant to be together. Even if none of this other c.r.a.p was happening, somehow, somewhere, we were destined to meet. Does that sound crazy?"

"I knew you were special from the moment we met," she said. "And it wasn't just because you were so cute"

He laughed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him forward, so that their noses were nearly touching.

"I want you to promise us something," she said.

"Promise us?"

"Yes. Us. Promise us that you'll get us through this."

"Nia, I haven't been doing this alone. You've been there every step of the way "

"And I will be. But in the end, sweetheart, it's going to come down to you, and you know it. Make the promise, for both of us, for our future together."

"I promise I'll get us through this."

"Thank you" She kissed him deeply. "Thank you"

He leaned back in the chair, holding her hand. He never wanted the moment to end. But it was inevitable. They had work to do.

"We have to talk about our next move," he said. "I think we should leave soon"

She nodded. "I thought about that. We can't help Jackson ourselves, and we're putting Pearl in danger by staying here."

"Exactly. I want to take Jahlil with us. But I know he won't want to leave behind his dad."

"Let's pray that Pearl can heal the chief," she said. "But if it doesn't happen soon. . .- There was no need for her to finish the sentence. Their path was clear. With or without Jackson, they would have to leave. Soon, the vampires would be coming.

Van Jackson floated into consciousness, awakening into a gray, blurry, unfamiliar world that was like somewhere in a drug-induced dream.

He couldn't feel his body-his body was numb-but he thought he was lying down. Some alert part of him, deep in his mind, told him that he lay on someone's bed. But he couldn't see the walls of the room; they were fuzzy and black. It was so quiet in there that he might have been lying inside a sealed coffin.

Was he in a hospital? He'd been hurt bad, he remembered. He recalled the pain tearing through his chest, and the blood. So much blood.

Was he dead?

Faintly, he heard a voice.

Dad, are you awake? You blinked; I saw you blink.

His son, somewhere nearby. His boy's voice was threaded with worry and cautious hope.

More than anything in the world, Jackson wanted to sit up and put his arms around his kid. He had never been an affectionate man, but he wanted to squeeze Jahlil in his arms so tightly that he would feel his boy's heart throbbing against his chest. It was his son, dammit, a precious human being born of his own flesh and blood. He didn't want to leave this world without holding his child, and experiencing the enduring reality of him, one more time.