His eyes-the dude's eyes were seriously messed up. Glowing a funky shade of red and his pupils constricted down to mere pinpoints like he was drugged. He blinked, once, twice. Like he couldn't quite understand the fact that somebody was charging towards him with bloody murder on his mind.

He blinked a third time, kept his eyes closed a few seconds, precious seconds that allowed Kel to close the distance.

"Let her go," Kel snarled.

The man's eyes opened, and although they still had that weird reddish glow, the dazed, drugged look was gone. He glanced down at Angel's slack body. She hung in his arms like a rag doll, eyes closed, her lips parted. "Hmmmm. But I don't want to, boy.

She's quite precious. Go on now."

The words vibrated-rippled, flowed through Kel and over him and as they faded, Kel had to fight to urge to do just as he'd been told. But it didn't take much of a fight-just a glance at Angel's face, just the memory of the fear he'd felt coming from her- and his complete inability to feel anything from her now.

Louder, Kel repeated, "Let her go."

The man cocked his head, narrowed his eyes as he studied Kel-kind of like he was examining a bug under a microscope.

"How odd. Two of you. In one night." He glanced down at Angel and then smiled, stroked her hair. "I'm not done with you, precious. But the rest of this will keep...for a bit."

Like she was so much garbage, he threw her on the ground and stepped over her, smiling at Kel. Blood stained his lips. "It's too bad I'm only in the mood for one kind of sweet, boy. You'd be even more fun than she is-you'd fight harder." He edged near Kel, but didn't come at him head-on, circling around and away, that weird smile still tugging at one corner of his mouth. "All I had to do was mention the sweet little kiddies and she caved. A female's soft spot, every time. You'll fight, though, as long, as hard as you can, just hoping you can save her from me."

"Shut the fuck up. Get the hell out. Now," Kel snarled. He laughed. With Angel's blood staining his lips and her laying on the floor in an unconscious slump, the bastard had the nerve to laugh. Kel's control snapped-he rushed him, fist closed tight around the letter opener. Lifting it high, he brought his arm down hard. The man jerked back but the tip of the letter opener caught his cheek, slicing him open.

He hissed, pressed a hand to his cheek. Wide-eyed, he looked at Kel and then at the letter opener.

For one brief second, Kel thought he saw fear in those strange eyes. The reddish cast grew stronger and the air in the house went cold. Kel could have sworn it dropped a good twenty degrees in five seconds flat.

The cut was bleeding, but it wasn't the rich, vibrant red Kel would have expected to see. It was darker, a strange reddish black. And-shit-the sliced flesh seemed to be smoking. Little tendrils of smoke curled away the man's face in wisps.

"That was a foolish thing to do, boy," the man rasped. His gaze zeroed in on the letter open. "Drop it."

This time, the words didn't wash over him, didn't slide through him in a teasing, coaxing suggestion. They crashed into him, weighty with a command that didn't want to be ignored. Kel almost staggered under it, but he didn't drop the letter opener.

Weird-it wasn't some big, lethal-looking blade and it sure as hell wasn't some kickass gun that could turn the guy's brain into Swiss cheese. But the man continued to stare at it with his face bleeding and skin smoking. Kel tightened his fingers around it. He didn't waste his breath talking. He just lunged for the man again.

But the man was prepared. He slid away like oiled leather, moving silent as a whisper, quick as a snake, circling around. He moved quicker than Kel could even track and Kel spun around, trying to keep his eyes on the man. He felt like he was being toyed with, like some giant cat playing with a mouse.

A hand came up between his shoulder blades, shoved him. He went flying face first to the floor. He just barely missed taking a header down the stairs as he landed on his hands and knees-the letter opener still clutched in his fist. Angel lay two feet away, her head turned from him. Her neck was exposed-he could see the ragged, ugly holes and the blood that hadn't yet clotted up trickling down.

"I don't really want to bother with you now, boy." Hard, steely fingers curled around the back of Kel's neck and he lifted him, hauled him straight off the floor. "I've got something a bit more pressing to deal with now. So if you want to live...just drop that paltry silver thing and run on."

Instead, Kel swung out, caught the man's neck-a shallow slice when what he'd tried to do was bury the silver inside the bastard's jugular. But the cut, shallow as it was, made the man scream and throw Kel across the landing. Plaster and dust drifted down when Kel hit the wall and then slid to the floor. Spinning away, the man screamed.

When he turned back, the narrow gash on his neck was smoking. More of that dark blood flowed. "Stupid human!"

Head reeling, Kel pushed himself upright. "Damn straight." He took one stumbling step towards the man standing at the head of the stairs, just a few feet away from Angel 's body. Kel tightened his hand around the letter open. Adrenaline began to pump through his body, numbing the pain, clearing the fog in his brain-and giving him the energy he needed to rush across the hall, tackling the maniacal bastard.

The two of them went crashing down the stairs, Kel stabbing and slicing with his makeshift weapon while the man roared. The stink of burnt flesh filled the air as Kel managed to pierce skin again and again. Brutal, inhumanly strong fingers closed around Kel's wrist and the man squeezed. Over his scream, Kel heard bone crunch.

And the wail of sirens...

"Shite!"

The man shoved upright, wobbled as he shot a look upstairs and then at the front door. It was still open. Already red and blue lights were splashing and Kel heard footsteps as the cops came rushing towards the house, heard them with startling clarity.

"Little fucker..."

He grabbed Kel just as the cops appeared in the doorway.

Kel thought the man had moved fast before but nothing could have prepared him for the speed he moved with now as he threw Kel over his shoulder and flew towards the back of the house. The man might not have wings, but he certainly seemed to fly, navigating the halls, the furniture and hurtling through the glass doors that opened out on the patio. Literally hurtling through them, the glass shattering as he lunged straight into it.

Glass stung Kel's eyes as he struggled. Weak struggles, though. His shattered wrist screamed with pain and his vision was red and blurry. Wind danced along his skin and he tried to see but the world spun by at breakneck speed.

The sirens faded away into the distance and soon, the only sound he heard was his own harsh breathing.

Then laughter, ugly, mean laughter.

His head struck something hard as he was flung to the ground and automatically, Kel tried to roll upright, using his elbow and his good hand. Vicious pain exploded through him as he was kicked, once, twice, three times in the gut.

"Little bugger. You had to interfere, didn't you?" Steely fingers, ice-cold and brutal, dug into his neck and once more, Kel found himself dangling in the air.

Pain blistered through him, a black veil threatened to drop over him as unconsciousness beckoned. Desperate, struggling for a breath, he clawed at the fingers wrapped around his throat.

"Congratulate yourself, boy. You saved your little bitch. At least for now. No fucking way can I go after her any time soon-I don't wish to draw that kind of attention to myself. But I wanted her-you got in my way. For that, I'm going to kill you, boy," the man whispered, slowly lowering Kel until his feet touched the ground. "It's going to be slow...and oh, so painful. Nobody interferes with what is mine. " With each word, he squeezed tighter and tighter. Kel 's oxygen-starved lungs felt like they'd explode- And then he went crashing back to the ground. He sucked in a breath through his abused throat, gagged, tried to take another breath. Dark, red-tinged rainbows danced before his eyes. Each breath was painful, but he welcomed it. He tried to get to his feet only to get knocked back on his ass. Another brutal kick to his ribs-this time, he heard bone break. By now, even adrenaline and fear couldn't numb the pain, but he couldn't manage to scream either. His throat felt swollen, his tongue thick.

In that moment, Kel knew he was going to die. Too weak, hardly able to breathe, he couldn't even find the strength to pull away when the man crouched down behind him, laid those icy cold fingers on Kel 's shoulders. Through the thin cotton of his T- shirt, he could feel those cold, strong fingers and that chill spread through him until he ached from head to toe with the intensity of it.

"The Change is so very unpleasant. Your frail mortal body may not even survive it, but if you do..." The man's words made no sense to Kel. Struggling to breathe, to see, to think past the pain, he wobbled on his knees and would have crashed forward onto his face if cruel hands hadn't caught him and held him.

"If you make it through, the sun will rise on your new body, you will burn. Suffer every bit of the pain...and think on how you could have just walked away."

Walk away...from what? Kel thought.

With that inhuman strength, the man grabbed Kel and jerked him backward. Pain flared in Kel 's neck, ripping, burning, tearing-distantly, Kel realized the man had bit him and through the pain, Kel could still feel the man 's wicked sharp teeth, his icy mouth-and blood. Kel's blood, hot as fire, flowing over his chilled flesh.

The man rode him to the ground under his greater weight, crushing him. Face pressed into the dirt, unable to breathe, Kel was helpless.

When finally the man pulled away, the gray cloud of oblivion beckoned but there would be no escaping into it. He was turned over. His uninjured hand grabbed at the dirt beneath him, fingers digging into it. As his fingers closed around something thin, rough, the man crouched by his side, lifting a wrist.

"Your little bitch fought when I tried to bring her over-I wonder how much fight you've got left." He sank his teeth into his wrist, tore the flesh and then fisted a hand in Kel's hair, jerking him up and forcing Kel's mouth to his wrist. "I'll think of you when I get my hands on her-and she'll suffer for it. Die knowing that."

Like hell. As the bitter, thick blood trickled down Kel's swollen throat, he swung out.

It was a scream that no mortal creature, man or animal, should be able to make. It echoed through the night, rebounding through the trees and as Kel slipped into oblivion, his last sight was that of a stick, not much bigger than a butter knife, protruding from one of the man's eyes.

"We're too late." It was a grim, angry voice, made all the more nerve-wracking by the fact that it came from a big man who carried a long, curved sword in his left hand.

Rafe watched as his wife, Sheila, knelt down by the boy and touched him.

"He's cold," Sheila murmured.

In the air, Rafe could smell the taint of a feral vampire, the rage and the violence. And the blood. "He fed him-just enough to start the Change, I'd bet, so the poor kid would die out here in the open as the sun came up."

Sheila's soft blue eyes went wintry with fury but her hand was gentle as she wiped some of the still-tacky blood away from the boy's face. "Rafe, he's just a kid."

Stroking a hand down Sheila's hair, Rafe said, "We'll take care of him, Belle. Come on...we need to get-"

His voice broke off abruptly, a breath hissing out between his teeth. His head went back, his eyes closing. "Damn it- bastard's still close. He's looking... Oh, shit. Ain't that a son of a bitch." He looked back at Sheila and his dark brown eyes had a weird reddish glow.

Recognizing the look, Sheila sighed. Smiled. "Go on, slick. I can get this one to the car okay." She narrowed her eyes. "You are going to have to leave me the car. I can't carry him indefinitely."

Rafe turned over the keys to his '57 Bel Aire without batting an eyelash. That, all by itself, told Sheila how strong the urge was riding her husband. Rafe didn't turn over those keys very easily at all-and never without a number of promises that she take care of his precious car.

Okay-maybe Rafe didn't call the car precious, but it amounted to the same thing.

All Hunters felt these urges, an impulse that could drag them out of bed, drag them miles through the night to find whoever was pulling at them.

In this case, it had dragged them quite a few miles. Hundreds, in fact. Rafe and Sheila lived in Memphis, Tennessee, and usually, they stayed in western Tennessee. Rafe hadn't ever felt anything pull at him in such a way, at least not until now.

Sheila hadn't ever seen him under such a strong grip. Not once. It had scared her, bothered her enough that she had demanded he take her with him. He hadn't wanted to, so she'd just settled her ass in the Bel Aire and refused to get out.

Rafe knew her well enough to know better than to argue, so instead of arguing, they'd left the enclave in the hands of Rafe's lieutenant, Dominic, and hit the road. The first few hundred miles sped by in silence, Sheila sensing nothing but the urgency rolling off Rafe.

But then Sheila had started sensing it. Sensing them, this man who seemed too damn young, and a vampire. The vampire wasn't one that Sheila could identify. Vamps had a feel to them, almost as individual as smell or a set of fingerprints. But it was a psychic thing and Sheila's psychic skills were nothing to brag about.

Rafe, though? Rafe was a Master vamp, powerful enough to feel this call from so far away. Strong enough to feel the feral, too, from wherever in the hell the bastard was. And despite what Rafe said, it wasn't that close. Sheila wasn't a strong Hunter, but if there was a feral anywhere close, she'd feel it, too.

Close. It was all relative, she guessed. Rafe glanced at her, at the kid sprawled on the forest floor, pale as death, his heartbeat weak and slow. "Can you get him to the car okay?"

Sheila smiled. "Yeah, slick. I think I can handle one kid."

Rafe didn't wait another second. He disappeared into the woods on swift, silent feet and Sheila sighed, whispered, "Be careful."

She set about getting the kid thrown over her shoulder. He wasn't as light as she would have expected-some seriously solid muscle on him, even as lanky as he was. He groaned, a soft, tortured sound. Sheila winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry, sugar." He had to be hurting. Already, he was going through the Change, but it was at a slow rate. She could feel it burning through him, moving at a crawl. The Change was usually a hell of a lot quicker. Sheila remembered her own change. When you were going through it, it was slow, sheer agony. But she'd watched others go through it and the Change actually moved pretty damn quick. It took three days, but during those three days, the mortal body changed. The digestive system altered. Fangs formed and cut through. Bone and muscle became tougher, stronger. Senses were heightened.

All within a mere seventy-two hours.

But this kid, if he lived through, was probably going to be stuck in the Change for close to a week. Some blood would help.

Once she got him someplace safe, she'd feed him a little, but a major feed would have to wait until Rafe showed up. A baby vamp needed stronger stuff than she had in her veins.

You are what you eat.

Snorting, Sheila muttered, "Yeah, with us, that's a fact." She continued to talk, not because she expected him to really hear her, but she knew the sound of a voice was a comfort. So she talked.

"You want to be strong, first feed has to come from the strong." Finally, she broke through the trees and emerged where Rafe had parked the car. In the moonlight, the baby-blue paint was colorless, the chrome reflecting the silvery moonlight back at her.

"Here we go, sugar. Just a few more minutes..."

She shot a glance towards the horizon, but it was still dark. The edgy anxiety riding her wasn 't coming from the sun's approach. It was this totally bizarre situation. Her husband out there Hunting a feral and Sheila had her arms full of a baby vamp who looked like he'd gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer-and lost.

"Wonder how old you are," she said, trying to keep up an endless flow of words. "Don't look much more than seventeen or eighteen. God, please, at least be that old..."

Manhandling him into the back, she settled him on the bench seat as gently as she could. Hard, though. He was a long, lanky bastard and she had to plop his big feet on the floor board to close the door. Shoving her hair back from her face, she muttered, "Rafe gets to have all the fun."

It was nearly dawn before Sheila sensed his return.

Her blood went hot, feeling the echo of the adrenaline that pulsed through him. Even though he hadn't even reached the hotel room yet, she could feel the wildness. Shoving off the bed closest to the door, she went to meet him, smiling a little.

Her smile faded, died away as she saw Rafe's face, though.

"You didn't find him."

His dark, sexy face was set in grim, harsh lines. "Yeah, I found him, right as he was getting ready to kill some stupid teenager.

He felt me coming, crushed the kid's larynx-I had a choice, either go after him, or help the kid." His mouth twisted in a snarl.

"You did what you had to do, Rafe." She stroked a hand down his face.

Blowing out a breath, he shoved a hand through his short, dark hair. "Yeah, I'm sure that's going to be a real comfort when he kills again." Glancing over her shoulder, he studied the new vamp and said softly, "And it won't be a comfort to him, either."

Rafe closed his eyes, lowered his head. Wide shoulders slumped. When he looked back at her, there was a screaming hell in his eyes. "There was another one hurt, a girl." Rafe jerked his chin in the direction of the bed. "I won't know what happened until I talk to him, but I could smell the feral and the boy there. Police all over the place, I couldn 't get too close. But I heard enough.

There was a girl attacked, probably right before this kid-I think he must have interrupted."

A fist closed around Sheila's heart. Unconsciously, she rubbed the heel of her hand over her chest. "What's going on with the girl?"

Rafe shrugged, but the motion lacked his normal grace. It was jerky, stiff. "She's alive. Low on blood. Unconscious."

"Think the feral will go after her again?"

Rafe sighed. "Hell, I don't know. Not if he's halfway sane. She's in a hospital, surrounded by people. No vamp wants the attention it would attract if he went after her there. But since I didn't find and kill that that fucker, I'll have to get somebody in to watch her."

He started to move past her, shucking the long leather coat he wore. Sheila stopped him by stepping in front of him and sliding her arms around his waist. "You're not Superman, slick. We aren't guardian angels and we aren't miracle workers."

A small smile tugged at his mouth. Cupping her face, he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. "I got an angel of my own, only seems fair everybody gets one."

Snickering, Sheila said, "I'm not an angel." Then she grinned, pushed up on her toes. "But if I am...sweetie, don't take this wrong, but I don't want you being an angel for anybody but me." She kissed him until she felt some of the tension drain out of him.

Pulling back, she skimmed her lips down his neck. "If he's around here, we'll find him. Dawn's coming... He'll be doing the same thing we're doing, finding some place to hole up. We got time for now."