Even knowing that he wasn't in there, something about the cemetery comforted her.

Then, abruptly, that comfort had vanished and Angel was jerked in a cold, hard awareness. Unsure why, she'd been filled with a sense of fear that had jump-started her instincts. Single woman, at night, alone in a cemetery-shit, it sounded like some kind of B horror movie.

The more she tried to think past the fear, the easier it got and by the time she was five miles away, she wondered what in the hell she was doing. She'd been half-asleep-had somebody driven by? Had there been somebody else at the cemetery?

She didn't know.

But she wasn't going back there tonight, that was certain. She glanced in her rearview mirror and although it was nothing more than her mind pulling tricks on her, it seemed as though darkness chased her.

Darkness... That was all it took. That one thought passing through her mind, and the fear was back. Seriously back and trying to think past the fear wasn't helping this time because the more she thought about it, the more afraid she got.

"Then don't think about it. Your imagination is going to be the death of you," she muttered. Five minutes later, she turned onto the rutted, winding road that led to her house. When she pulled in front of her house, the motion-activated floodlight came on and she breathed out a sigh of relief as it managed to dispel some of the gloom.

For some reason, the sight of the light, of her little house badly in need of repair, made her feel better. Beyond the front door there was safety.

She grabbed her purse and keys, striding up to the door. The skin along her shoulder blades went tight. She almost paused long enough to look back-somebody was watching her. She felt it.

Her body was screaming a warning at her. That vague sense of fear was back, magnified, and now it had a focus. She didn't just feel fear.

She sensed malice, something evil. Something ugly.

Human nature-it could make a person hide under the covers to avoid seeing the monsters or it could make them turn around when to do so was death. Never made sense.

But Angel would be damned if she played into that B-movie mindset by slowing down to look instead of getting someplace safe. No-not someplace. In her house, across the threshold with the door shut behind her. Angel got the door unlocked in record time and slid inside, shutting it with a bang. She turned the locks, the one in the doorknob, the deadbolt and the chain.

Something brushed her leg and Angel yelped, tearing away, only to realize it was Rufus. The big ugly mutt stared at her, his head cocked. He went to nuzzle her leg but then he froze, his hackles rising and his lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl.

That illusive fear was pushing in on her again, choking her.

She checked each of the locks.

Wasn't enough. A scared, high-pitched voice kept whispering through her mind. Not enough, not enough, not enough.

Rufus came to brace his warm body by her leg and she reached down, buried a hand in his fur.

The calmer, rational part of her mind told her to chill out. She was inside the house. Inside the house was safe. Inside the house was a big, mean dog that would rip any burglar to shreds and he'd also sound a warning if somebody was trying to break into the house...right?

This ain't no home intrusion, she said silently.

And Rufus wasn't exactly throwing out the welcome mat, either. Not with the way he began to pace stiff -legged back and forth in front of the door.

Angel had no idea which voice to listen to. Bad things happened to people in their own houses all the time-she knew that from experience. Closing her eyes, she pressed her brow to the door, pressed her shaking hands flat to it and just breathed. In.

Out. In. Out. Concentrating on the feel of the air moving in and out of her lungs, the way her chest expanded.

After five seconds, the shaking in her hands subsided. After ten, the cloud of terror wrapping around her mind cleared. Rufus paused in his guard-dog duty long enough to nose her leg and whine softly. Angel reached down, scratched him behind the ears.

"It's okay, boy."

Once more able to think on her own, she straightened away from the door and edged over to the window. She looked through the gap in the curtains, staring down the drive.

Darkness.

Just darkness.

"You're not afraid of the dark, Angel," she told herself. As little sense as it made after the attack, she was more at home in the dark than in the light. Whatever was going on, whether her mind was playing tricks on her or whether it was trying to warn her of some impending threat, she wasn't going to cower in the dark.

Deep breath in...deep breath out...deep breath...

Shit!

The deep breath lodged in her throat like a lump of ice. She reached up, rubbed her eyes and squinted, focused on the drive.

Something had moved.

Something big. The faint, indistinct shadow made her think dog, but it was too damn big to be a dog. Way too big. Unless the dog was the size of a pony.

And once more, Rufus started to growl. Softly, almost like he was trying to ask her what in the hell was going on?

"Shit..."

In the shadows, something stirred. When the yellowish gleam first appeared, Angel didn 't notice. But then it-no-they moved. Disappeared for a second, reappeared-blinking. And closer.

Eyes. Shit. Blinking yellow eyes in the front yard, something that looked like a big-ass dog. The very air around her felt heavy and cold, weighing down on her. Swallowing the huge knot in her throat, she slowly eased her mental shields down. Like rolling down a car window, she let them lower bit by bit.

Tensed.

Waiting.

There. She felt it-no. Him. Those thoughts had a decidedly male tone. Her first instinct was to jerk away, close her mental shields up tight and grab the phone. But human nature intervened again and instead of pulling back, Angel lowered her shields a little more, enough to not just sense the thoughts but make sense of them.

There was nothing of evil to them.

And she had the most fucked-up feeling whoever-or whatever-was aware of her psychic probe. It came in images and emotions, not words, but there was no denying what she was picking up.

Just like there was no denying the blackness that suddenly emerged from the night, rushing at her.

Racing toward her.

Rufus' growls were no longer soft. He backed away from her, just a bit, and stood with his head low to the ground, hackles up and body stiff. The deep, angry growl sounding from him had gone from protective and worried to downright pissed.

Mouth gone dry with fear, Angel retreated, one step at a time, until she stood by the phone. From the corner of her eye, she saw the illuminated keypad of her phone and she started to reach for it.

But then, before she could touch it, she curled her fingers into a fist and let it drop to her side. Without understanding how, she knew that the cops couldn't do a damn thing.

Fear could be so many things. It could be insidious and creeping-like what she'd sensed that night years before when somebody had broken into her mom's house and attacked her, killed Kel.

It could be a fast, unending slide into madness-the slide she'd taken after Kel's death had been riddled with fear, self-doubt and guilt.

It could be a foggy, indistinct cloud like what she'd sensed as she raced towards home only moments ago.

And it could be a storm. The storm coming at her now was hurricane force and there was nothing to shelter her from it. The silence in the air was deafening and that only made everything that much more terrifying. It was quiet, save for the sounds of her ragged panting and Rufus' snarling growls. He inched forward even as she tried to close her fingers around the thick ruff of his fur.

He kept moving, ignoring her silent commands and placed his body between her and the door.

A low...nasty...cruel chuckle.

Far, far off. Moving closer. Closer. Closer until she knew now that if she looked out the window, she'd see him. There was no shadow outside the window, but she didn't care. He was out there now.

Out there with whatever or whoever else she'd sensed.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up and blood roared in her ears. That laugh.

She'd heard it before. In her dreams, a lingering taunt of the night that had cost her the one person in the world that she loved.

"God, not again," she whispered, her voice ragged and harsh. "I can't do this again."

Something sounded just outside the door. A footstep-deliberately loud, he wanted her to hear him. To know he was near.

With her shields still down, she could feel him and the cloying, cold chill of his thoughts was as terrifying now as it had been that night. Memories once so dim, hidden by her subconscious, rose like a tidal wave, capsizing any and all attempts to think rationally. In a vain attempt to stem that flow of memories, she jerked her shields back up.

"Where are you..."

His voice was loud-too loud. Like he'd spoken through a microphone, echoing through her house, across her land. But he wasn't speaking to her.

He was aware of her-as aware of her as she was of him, she knew it. But his question wasn't directed at her.

The other-that presence. Was he looking...?

"You have no lack of protectors, sweet baby," his voice crooned and this time she knew he was talking to her. She heard his words clear as a bell even though he was still outside.

Protectors-?

She glanced down at Rufus and then toward the window where she'd stood when she saw those eyes out in the darkness.

"Hmmmm... What do we have here?"

Angel jumped when she heard another speak.

Another voice. Deep. Gruff. Completely unfamiliar. "You know you shouldn't have done this. We're talking a mistake of epic proportions."

The thing laughed. He was no man-she could sense nothing of humanity within him. Nothing but a pure, malicious intent.

Angel had long believed that sometimes monsters walked in human form-what else could describe serial rapists, child molesters and cold-blooded killers?

Now she knew without a doubt that she was right. The monster on her porch-if he'd ever been human, it was a long, long time ago.

"You don't really think you can stop me, do you? Nobody has yet."

"That's because you were smart enough to stay below the radar. But you're in it now," the other one said, his voice a deep, bass rumble.

The thing laughed again-that laugh seemed to be a favored taunt, managing to pack derision, amusement, malice and challenge all into one single sound, no words needed. "Tell me, Hunter, where's the boy? Why isn't he here to save his lady love?"

"What makes you think he isn't?"

Another voice. It came from off to the side, faint but growing louder. Another sound, and then a shadow passed in front of the window closest to Angel. The shadowy shape paused just in front of the window and Angel stopped breathing as his head turned.

She had the weirdest feeling he knew she was there-knew exactly where, and neither the curtains nor the darkness within the house was any kind of barrier.

That voice-she licked her lips. Familiar. Tears burned her eyes. Too familiar. Slowly, she took a step forward. Then another.

Another. But before she could get to the window and jerk open the curtain, he moved away.

"Ahhh... There's the white knight. I see you brought reinforcements this time. What is it, boy? Aren 't you man enough to protect your woman on your own? Aren't you up to a fair fight?"

Your woman- That voice- A whimper escaped her lips and she reached up, pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle the sound.

"Yeah, I saw just how you like to fight fair, bastard. Silver handcuffs, a weaker creature-big on equality, aren't you?"

The words didn't make sense to her. But they didn't have to. She focused on the voice and when he stopped speaking, she wanted to scream. She went to the door, pressed her hands against and rested her cheek against the smooth, painted surface. Say something!

But there were no more words. Just a huge crash. Angel jumped, fell back from the door and ended up on her butt.

Scrambling backward, she stared wide-eyed and terrified.

Under the fear, though, there was something inside she hadn't felt in years. Twelve long empty years. It wasn't hope-hope was all too often fragile and illusive.

This wasn't hope. It was belief, strong and certain, and it wouldn't let her stay where she was any more. Shoving to her feet, she rushed for the door but she never made it.

Hands came up from behind, grabbing her. She screamed-or tried to-but one of those hands came up, covered her mouth.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Rufus, but the dog lay on the floor and as she watched, he rolled onto his back in an outright display of submission.

"Calm down, cupcake." The voice, that deep, grumbling growl, was soft and gentle but she was too damn terrified to be reassured.

She brought up a foot to smash down on his, but he moved too quick, evading her with ease. She tried striking back with her head, trying to smash his nose but he moved, evaded with that same seamless grace.

"Calm down," he repeated. "Listen, I'll take my hand away but do me a favor...don't scream. I fucking hate screams."

He lowered his hand. Without batting a lash, Angel opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could.

"Damn it!" He swore, clamped a hand back over her open mouth-and got bit. Angel closed her mouth as hard as she could, biting until she tasted blood and she still didn't let go. He hissed and let her go.

Angel stumbled away, crashing into the couch and instinctively, she jumped over it, putting it between them before she turned to face him.

She flinched as he reached out and turned on a lamp, squinting against the brightness. Rufus continued to lay on his back by the front door, his eyes rapt on the face of the man before her. A man she hadn't ever seen in her life. He probably wasn't even an inch taller than her and he had hair that would have done a Hollywood starlet proud, long, razor -straight and the palest blond, almost white. His eyes were equally pale, ice-blue, surrounded by a rim of deep navy.