I opened my eyes.

I didn't know where I was.

I was in a room. I could see that I was lying on a couch in a room and in front of me was a bed.

"You fell asleep," came a voice.

I looked up.

Over me was a boy with a odd look on his face. He gently shook my shoulder again.

"Asleep," I murmured. "Oh..ouch," I said There was a pain in my head.

As rapidly as it came, it went away though, and the universe slowly coalesced in front of me.

"Emory!" I said.

I pushed myself up. I still felt a bit woozy, but most of all, as reality dawned, I was shocked.

"Yes. That's me."

"Emory. I...We..."

I'm sure my expression was chagrined.

"I mean," I said. "I guess ...I kissed you! I don't know what came over me! That's just...well...that's just not like me."

He was thoughtful. "It's late. We can talk about it later, okay? Now, I just better get you home, okay?"

"Home. Home... yes, that's a good idea." I struggled to get myself up, and the pain came again, shooting down from my head to my neck.

"Oooh. Oww," I said.

"Oh my! Are you all right," said Emory, resting a concerned hand on my shoulder.

Once more, just as quickly as the pain had come, it went away.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. That root beer must have been kind of strong for me."

He laughed softly. "That is strong root beer, I confess."

He bit his lip, looking down at me.

Suddenly, he was on his knees, holding my hand.

"Rebecca. Do forgive me. I fear I took advantage of you. I assure you, when we went to this room, it was not my intention."

"Silly. You'd better stop being so adorable or I'm going to grab you again."

He blushed.

"Look," I said. "We're young. Things are confusing, right? We can talk about it tomorrow, like you say."

"You ....forgive me then?"

"Only if you forgive me!" I pasted a pained smile on my face.

The smile returned to his face. He rose gracefully, and stepped back. He extended a courteous hand to help me get up.

"Okay. But maybe, as Shakespeare might say, in order to not strain the quality of mercy, we'd best keep our distance for the rest of the evening."

IT'S FUNNY HOW people can talk around things.

As I took his hand and pulled myself up from the couch, there was a definite awkward silence. The scent of our passionate kiss hung around us, for a bit, like a tear after a sad Beatles song.

But by the time we'd gotten into the car and were on our way back to my house, we were jabbering away with excitement about the upcoming debut of Crossland Drama's version of Dracula.

We'd already seen the sets the scenery department had created and everyone agreed they were just fabulous. Somewhere the director had found an enthusiastic Dracula fan who not only had donated money, but genuine Victorian furniture and the effect on us all was like putting us in a time travel device and sending us back a century. Costumes had just come in, and we'd done a full dress rehearsal that had not only pleased the director, but had been a lot of fun.

"I heard Mr. Crawley is thinking about asking us all to clear out extra time on your schedules," I said, as the Rolls slid through the chilly Maryland night.

"For extra performances to satisfy the demands of play lovers everywhere?" Emory said with a trace of Southern-fried sarcasm in his voice.

"Championship competitions!" I said excitedly.

"Are we Off-Broadway bound?"

"Aren't we already Off-Broadway," I shot back.

"Way off Broadway, I'm afraid."

I laughed.

I was relieved. Just immensely relieved.

We'd gotten through that awkward after-kiss spell, and now things were friendly and ebullient again. More than that, I detected a real improvement in our relationship A true ease. We had something we shared now, and not just Lucy and Count Dracula .

We had that incredible kiss!

We continued to chatter on amiably and before I knew it, we were in front of my house.

"Well, Lucy," said Emory. "I believe this is our stop."

"Thanks Count."

"Shall I walk you to the door?"

"What a gentleman! Sure!"

' We got out.

Abruptly, outside I felt awkward and nervous again. I rather wished I had demurred on the walk in. We spent it in silence.

My breath misted into the night air. I could hear my heart hammering in my chest again.

We got up to the door and I turned around.

Emory was standing a full two steps behind me.

"Rebecca," he said. "Thank you so much for coming and meeting my Daddy tonight. It was an honor to have you in my home."

He was extending his hand to shake mine.

I looked down with surprise at his hand. The gesture totally broke the tension that was lifting up in me.

"Oh you silly," I said. I stepped forward, reached up and gave him a big hug and a kiss on his cheek. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," he said, looking sheepish and a little befuddled.

He stepped back, waved and took off, his footsteps clattering on the sidewalk as he hustled off to his waiting car and chauffeur.

I let myself in with my key and was happy to see that my parents were not in bed.

I put my coat away in the coat closet and hurried back to my bedroom. I turned the radio on to the classical station, and just lay in bed a while, my head swimming.

The station was playing Chopin.

I WAS RUNNING in the woods.

I was running in the dark woods. Wind whipped tree branches around me. A moon shown full as clouds parted above.

There was something behind me, chasing me.

My breaths were hot my lungs. I turned around but could see nothing in the darkness. I heard growling and howling, growling and howling of anger and hunger.

Suddenly, it seemed my feet froze. I felt as though they were moving through quicksand. I looked down and saw that the ground fog was swirling all the way up to my thighs.

I ran smack into something and stopped.

I looked up and saw that it was Emory Clarke in his Dracula cape.

"Good evening, Rebecca," he said. "You kissed me, my dear. Now I get to kiss you a"

He leaned toward me and I glimpsed a flash of ivory fangs in the moonlight ...AND I WOKE.

I was in darkness. I felt disoriented. A piece of classical music I didn' know was droning from the radio.

Almost immediately, I was aware of the pain.

I grabbed at my neck. The pain was severe, cutting into me, penetrating up.

"Oww," I said. "Owww."

I had that headache again too. It was fierce and pounding.

Hand still to my neck, I struggled up to sit at the edge of the beside, trying to catch my breath, as though I'd really been running, as though that dream had been real.

"What's going on?" I mumbled.

I got up and I staggered down the hall.

What was wrong with me, I thought groggily.

What is wrong with my neck?

I needed some aspirin. I desperately needed something for the pain that I was feeling.

I turned on the light switch.

I was surprised how much it hurt my eyes.

"Oh gee," I said. "Fell asleep. Fell asleep in my clothes."

I was in fact still wearing my turtleneck. The girl who looked back at me from the mirror was rumpled and frousled, her eyes squinty. I'd worn just a touch of mascara and other make up last night, and it was smeared.

My neck hurt.

My neck throbbed.

I pulled down my turtleneck sweater to see what was going on there.

I gasped.

On the side my neck, like two small lanced pimples, symmetrically placed were blood-red puncture holes.

Bite marks!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

"HAROLD."

"Yes?"