I face the girls. "You're safe here. Rose will take care of you. I'll be back when I have news."

Rebecca's eyes burn with questions I can't answer. Yet. I hurry out before she can give voice to them. There are four new human hosts standing just outside the bedroom and Rose calls them in. At least I can leave knowing the girls are in good hands.

Williams is still at Brooke's when I call. I tell him I may have a lead. He agrees to meet me at the cottage in two hours. I head straight there.

A shower. Cold this time, to clear away the cobwebs and try to make sense of a senseless notion. I saw what happened to Rebecca in a dream? Crazy. There's another explanation. There has to be.

I can't think of any. I'm as confused when I step out of the shower as when I stepped in. The only thing that's changed is that my skin is puckered and blue-tinged from the cold. I wrap myself in a robe.

Coffee. I head downstairs. I'm filling the pot when I realize what I really want is a good stiff drink.

Fortified with a tumbler of good scotch and my laptop, I begin the search for Loren aka Jason Shelton. I google his name. The only thing that comes up is a reference to a company. Nelson Security Services.

That name was on the logo on the car in the warehouse parking lot. I click my way to their website.

Company policies, guidelines, testimonials from satisfied customers.

Pictures. A group shot in front of the company office. One of the guards in particular catches my eye.

A flash of recognition.

Clear now. But disturbing in its implication.

The guard with the dog at the warehouse was the man in my dream.

And that man was Jason.

But a vampire? I got no such vibe from him. I got nothing except an impression of hostility and ugliness-that he was a mean son of a b.i.t.c.h. But a human one.

When Williams arrives, my head is swimming with confusion and fuzzy from the scotch. I keep both to myself, preferring to adopt a matter-of-fact att.i.tude as I fill him in on the condition of the vampires at the safe house and what they told me. That Burke's bodyguard was the one who tortured them. That I have no doubt that the security guard, Jason, was the one who set the explosives that blew the place up.

Since he's an employee of a company listed in the Yellow Pages, I figure that would be the logical place to start looking for him.

I don't mention that he's a vampire or that he was the one who found the girls and turned them.

Or the dream.

I don't know why I don't tell him. Maybe the thought of another lecture on my ignorance is more than I can stand tonight.

I take another gulp of scotch. It burns in a good way, and a comforting burst of warmth radiates from the pit of my stomach. I cradle the gla.s.s against my cheek. Scotch was a much better choice than coffee. I'm not feeling nearly as anxious.

Williams reaches over and takes the gla.s.s out of my hand.

"Hey. I need that."

"Tomorrow," he says in reply.

"Tomorrow?"

"You'll start looking for Jason tomorrow." He takes the gla.s.s to the sink and empties it. "You look beat. Making love to a bottle of scotch isn't going to help. Sleep is going to help. Go to bed. I'll work on finding Jason. And in the morning, we should have the a.n.a.lysis of that face cream."

He lets his voice drop off, but I pick up a feeling that he's guarding something from me much the same way I'm guarding my uncertainty from him. What comes through is Ortiz, his sorrow at his loss. The sensation is gone in a heartbeat but it sobers me.

"What do you think Burke was doing with the blood she was collecting from the ampires? " I ask after a minute.

"If I was to guess? The blood is an ingredient in her cream."

I close my eyes for a minute, processing the idea, repulsed by it. "How? For what purpose?"

"It's an antiaging cream." His tone is abrupt, accusa tory. "Women will go to any lengths to recapture youth. Burke found a way to capitalize on that compulsion."

His indictment of all females should spark an argument. Tonight it only sparks a weary sigh.

"How would it work? Have you ever heard of vampire blood being used to enhance a human product?"

"No. I've never heard of a topical application of vampire blood having any power. That 's not to say it doesn't." He stands up. "We'll know tomorrow. Now get some sleep. I've arranged for one of our security patrols to-"

"Security patrol? What for?"

He casts a glance toward the bottle. "To make sure you have a tomorrow. Burke may be having you watched. If she is, she'll know how you spent your afternoon. She's bound to be p.i.s.sed you got those girls out of that warehouse. I would have suggested you sleep somewhere else tonight, but you're never inclined to take my suggestions. I did the next best thing."

For once, I don't argue, object or balk at what he's saying. Truth is, I never gave a thought that Burke might come after me directly. She seemed to be having too much fun watching me dance. But saving those girls may have ratch eted the stakes up a notch.

"Culebra."

It's all I say. Williams shakes his head. "I'll check in with Sandra. If there's any change, I'll let you know."

I walk him to the door, close it, lock it and trudge upstairs.

Now drinking all that scotch doesn't seem like the good idea it was earlier. My brain is fuzzy, my limbs heavy. I eye the bed, still unmade. The scotch and lack of sleep make that detail as unimportant as the fear I should be feeling that any minute Burke might strike.

For once I hope Williams was telling the truth about a.s.signing a security patrol. Idly, I wonder if will be composed of vampires or some other supernatural member of the Watchers. The one thing I am sure of is it will be no ordinary security patrol.

I shed my clothes, grab up a blanket and pillow and fall across the bare mattress. My last thought before I drift off is how my conversation with Williams tonight is the only one in a long time that hasn't ended with our threatening to kill each other.

CHAPTER 33.

IT'S RAINING WHEN I WAKE UP WEDNESDAY MORNING. I'm in bed listening to it beat against the windows and the deck and wishing I could pull the covers up over my head and go back to sleep.

Then I think about Culebra and those girls and I roll out of my blanket coc.o.o.n and propel myself up.

The newspaper is on the front porch next to its plastic sleeve. The exposed half of the paper is soggy and drips all over the floor when I carry it in.

s.h.i.t.

I get it over to the kitchen counter and spread it out. Page one headlines blare "Police Officer Killed. Fire at Cosmetics Company Warehouse Claims Life." Piecing together the story from rain-soaked newsprint, there isn't much to learn that I don't already know. The article says the warehouse was destroyed along with all the product being prepared for next week 's gala launch of Eternal Youth, the heralded new antiaging cream. An unidentified spokesperson for the company issued a statement saying how devastated they are about the fate of policeman Mario Ortiz, who died a hero when he entered the building to make sure no one was inside. Their condolences go to his family. Second Chance management plans to have the factory back up and running in the next few months.

Not happening.

Simone Tremaine, president and CEO of Second Chance, was not available for comment.

I'll bet. Burke has gone to ground.

I tap a fingernail against the paper. The article claims all the product was destroyed in the fire. I saw something being loaded into trucks when I arrived at the warehouse on Monday. And there was nothing at all on the conveyor belts just before the fire broke out. Burke stockpiled her precious cream before she had the place torched.

Not that she's going to have a chance to sell it. I'll make sure of that.

Williams calls just as I'm about to step into the shower. "I got the product a.n.a.lysis back," he says.

"And?"

"A lot of stuff with chemical names I can't p.r.o.nounce along with one I can. Animal glycoprotein."

"Animal glycoprotein? What the h.e.l.l is that?"

"Vampire blood."

"Animal glycoprotein? How can that be vampire blood?"

Williams pauses a long moment before he says, "You seem unable or unwilling to accept the fact that we are no longer human, Anna."

His words send a tremor through me. "I am not an animal."

He waits even longer this time to respond. "And you are not human, either," he says at last. "But this is not the time for debate. The point is, she was using vampire blood in her cream."

"Where would she get an idea like that? Didn't you say you'd never heard of vampire blood having any topical application?"

"I also remember saying just because I hadn't heard of it didn't mean it might not be possible. We now know it is. The extraordinary results she was getting must have been due to the infusion of vampire blood. It has to be. The remaining ingredients in the cream are found in every commercial product on the market."

I get another shiver of disgust. Explains the smell I detected-raw meat.

Williams continues, "I also found out from an a.s.sociate that Burke seems to have disappeared. He said Simone Tremaine has disappeared and I didn't correct him. The PR rep for Second Chance has no idea where she is. The fire is being investigated as suspicious, possibly an insurance scam, though the same rep swears the cream is legit. They claim they lost everything in the fire, including formulas and the names of test subjects."

Not everything. I saw those trucks. To Williams, I reply, "Convenient, that. What about the security guard?"

"No record. He's an employee of Nelson, has been for several years." "Then I'll be paying them a visit."

Williams releases a breath. "I wish I could go with you, but my place is with Brooke."

Certainly out of character for Williams, placing concern for a human over his own desires, but I 'm not going to argue the point. I don't want to spark more animosity between us.

A bit of the conversation I had with Gloria flashes into my head. "Is it true cosmetics are not regulated by the DA? " I ask.

Williams launches into cop-speak. "The FDA's legal authority over cosmetics is different from other products regulated by the agency.

There's no premarket approval process. The exception is color additives."

"Great. You can use blood but not red dye."

"Not really. Burke took a huge chance. Maybe she realized it."

"And had the place burned to the ground."

"Odd, considering the success she seemed to be having with the cream."

Maybe not. Something obviously went wrong. Like the fact that the test subjects were attacking people. Or maybe it was my involvement. Still, she's got a fleet of semis full of the stuff somewhere. Perhaps Jason can shed some light on that.

There doesn't seem to be anything else to say. I ring off, promising to call Williams as soon as I've had my talk with Jason Shelton.

BY THE TIME I HIT THE ROAD, THE RAIN HAS LET UP, but clouds still hang heavy over the beach, blurring the line between sea and sky. As usual, the commute is a b.i.t.c.h. Southern California drivers don't make exceptions for road conditions. They forge ahead at well over the legal speed limit, figuring if they ignore the standing water on the freeway, it can't hurt them. Unfortunately, I'm forced to slow to a crawl twice on my way to the Nelson Security office because some jacka.s.s in an SUV hydroplaned himself into an accident.

It's always an SUV.

By the time I get to the address listed for Nelson Security, I 'm a coiled spring of aggravation. I've experienced enough shock, horror and frustration the last couple of days to be wound so tight, I can't wait to come face to face with Jason Shelton.

I'm ready to kick some vampire a.s.s.

CHAPTER 34.

NELSON SECURITY HAS ITS MAIN OFFICE LOCATED in a strip mall in Chula Vista. Not a particularly nice office in a not-so-nice neighborhood. Two Hispanic teens in baggy jeans and dizzyingly white T-shirts lounge in front of the 7-Eleven next door. They eye me first, but it's my car that holds their attention. And not in the car-enthusiast kind of way, but the wondering-what-they-can-get-for-it-from-the- neighborhood-chop-shop kind of way. I've seen the look before.

I make a point of sounding the beep on the Jag's remote. I have a state-of-the-art alarm system. Not that it did me any good when a pack of werewolves attacked it a few months ago. These guys don't look like werewolves. And I can keep an eye out through the window while I'm inside.

There's no one behind the reception counter when I walk in. There is a two-way mirror behind it.

s.h.i.t. Let's hope I can keep the attention of whoever comes out to greet me before he or she notices I'm casting no reflection.

And wouldn't it be nice if that someone was Jason Shelton.

No such luck.

A woman pushes through a door to the right of the desk. She's about thirty, a little thick through the middle but with the biggest b.r.e.a.s.t.s I've ever seen. They strain at the b.u.t.tons of a pink cotton blouse like two overripe melons. It's hard to keep my eyes off them, but I force myself to look up, noting that she has beautiful green eyes and a great smile. I doubt many men have ever noticed, either.

"Good morning," she says. "How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for an employee of yours. Jason Shelton."