LITMIR.BIZ

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in the area and some deep, preternatural instinct told him that it was either Falco or another like him.

      There were two types of vampires in the world: those who had shed all of their humanity and those who clung to an illusion of their old life. The first type no longer considered themselves to be a part of the human race. Seeing themselves as superior beings, they preyed on humans the way any predator preyed on the weak and the helpless, killing without mercy. The second type held on to the illusion of their old life, their old ways. They took blood because there was no life without it, because the pain of abstaining was beyond bearing.

      Dimitri Falco was the first type. Strong, powerful, arrogant. He had been made by Khira, who had been made by Alexi Kristov, an ancient vampire who had been one of the most powerful of their kind. Battista could hardly credit the fact that Khira had been destroyed. She had been defeated, not by another vampire, not by a hunter, but by a mortal woman. It was something worth remembering and only proved that no matter how old or how strong a vampire might be, they were all vulnerable. To the amusement of the Undead around the world, Edward Ramsey had been turned the night Khira was destroyed. The hunter had become the hunted.

      Battista was about to find a place to settle down for the night when he heard Victoria scream.

      He was in the house and at her bedside almost before the thought crossed his mind.

      Vicki woke with the sound of her own cries ringing in her ears, screamed again as a dark shape materialized out of the shadows in a corner of her room.

      “Do not be afraid,” admonished a deep voice. “It is only me.”

      Hoping she was still dreaming, Vicki bolted upright, the blankets clutched to her chest. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”

      “I heard you scream.”

      She peered into the darkness. “You heard me? How?”

      “I was outside.”

      Her panic ratcheted up a notch. “What were you doing outside my house at this time of night?” With a hand that trembled, she turned on the lamp on her bedside table.

      “Perhaps I was just passing by.”

      “I don’t believe you.”

      He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter whether she believed him or not.

      “I think you’d better leave.”

      “You screamed. What was it that frightened you? Did you see someone?”

      She drew the covers up to her chin. “I had a bad dream, that’s all.” And you were in it, she thought, but didn’t say so out loud.

      He cocked his head to one side, his dark gaze intent upon her face, almost as if he was trying to read her mind. Fortunately, that was impossible.

      “It must have been rather a frightening nightmare,” he remarked. “To have you screaming so.”

      He looked like the stuff of nightmares, she thought, with his stark good looks and dark penetrating gaze. Add to that the fact that he wore a black shirt and pants beneath a long black duster and he was dressed for the part as well.

      Her heart skipped a beat as he took a step toward the bed. She glanced wildly at the door, but Battista blocked that escape. Her gaze darted to the window, but that way out held dangers of its own, since her bedroom was on the second floor.

      “Victoria, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

      She wanted to believe him, but something in his tone, the heated look in his eyes, warned her that she would be wise to be afraid, though she had no idea what good that would do her. She had no defense against him. He was bigger than she was and certainly stronger.

      She shook her head as he drew closer, her hand reaching for the crucifix she wore on a silver chain. Battista came to an abrupt halt as a ray of moonlight filtered through the window, its light seeming to illuminate the cross at her throat until it burned with a silver fire all its own.

      “I did not mean to frighten you,” he said, his gaze locked on the crucifix.

      “You didn’t.” It was a lie, and a bold one.

      He inclined his head. “May your faith keep you safe this night,” he murmured.

      And then, to her surprise, he turned and vanished out the window.

      Chapter 6

      In the morning, Vicki was certain she had imagined it all, or that it had been just another dream. Surely she had only imagined that Antonio Battista had been lurking in the shadowy corner of her bedroom last night. And only in a dream could he simply vanish out the window like Count Dracula!

      Thinking of Dracula reminded her of her nightmare and she lifted a hand to her throat, then laughed self-consciously. Did she really expect to find two little puncture wounds in the side of her neck?

      A wave of sweet relief left her feeling weak when her exploring fingers found nothing out of the ordinary. She must be losing her mind, she thought, dreaming of vampires, imagining Antonio in her room in the middle of the night, expecting to find bites in her neck.

      The nightmare troubled her all that day, though she wasn’t sure why. She had never believed in visions, didn’t believe that dreams could foretell the future, didn’t believe in paranormal creatures lurking in the night, so why did this particular dream continue to haunt her?

      She left for work a little before six. In spite of the fact that it was a lovely, warm evening, she decided not to walk.

      She was getting into the car when she felt a sudden coldness sweep over her. Pausing, she glanced around. There was no wind, no hint of a breeze, but the coldness persisted. It took her a moment to realize that the cold wasn’t caused by anything physical; it was more like a sense of evil surrounding her, a sense of impending doom.

      Like the feeling she’d had the first time she had seen Antonio Battista.

      With a shiver, she got into the car and quickly closed and locked the door.

      She felt better when she reached the diner. She nodded at Bobbie Sue, then went into the back room. She stashed her handbag in her locker, pulled on a clean apron, and grabbed a fresh pad and a pencil.

      She stopped in the kitchen to say hello to Gus, then went out to start her shift.

      The diner was busier than usual for a Thursday night, though the atmosphere was still somewhat subdued. Ned and Arnie sat at one of the tables by the front door where they could keep an eye on everyone who came into the diner. Ned was reading the sports pages, Arnie was working the crossword puzzle. Maddy Malone was sharing a table with Rex and judging from the looks on their faces, there was more going on than just dinner. Vicki grinned inwardly. It was about time. The two had been dancing around each other for over a year. In addition to the regulars, there were several people she hadn’t seen at Ozzie’s before.

      “Hey, Vicki.”

      Hearing Ned’s voice, she went to see what he wanted.

      “Has that guy been in here again?” he asked.

      She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, he came in after you left on Tuesday night. He knew you’d been here.”

      Ned grunted softly. “Did he say anything that struck you as suspicious?”

      “No.”

      “I don’t suppose he told you where he’s staying?” Arnie asked. “We’ve checked the hotel and he’s not staying there, or anywhere else in town as far as we can tell.”

      “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

      “You be careful, Vicki,” Ned said, his voice and expression sober. “There was another killing last night.”

      A coldness swept through Vicki. She had been with Antonio last night. Did that mean he was innocent? Or that he had walked her home and then committed another

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