I climbed into myfavorite baggy jeans and aUniversityofColorado T-shirt and headed down to the kitchen, fanta-sizing about that first cup of nirvana.

After I started the Mr. Coffee, I checked my office voice mail to see if Emerald had left a message. She hadn't.

I was pouring my first cup of coffee when Agent Stevens knocked on my door. I didn't usually get up that early, but every time I did, I was reminded of how much I love watch-ing the sun come up. There's that wonderful feeling of a new beginning, of endless possibilities. And this morning, in particular, I appreciated the beauty, light, and warmth of the dawn.

I let him in, stood for a moment in the open doorway, watching the light reclaim the sky and enjoying the early fall breeze, and I jumped when he spoke.

"Hey, Earth to Dr. Knight? Where do you keep your coffee mugs?"

I glared at my visitor, who was making himself quite at home. He wandered around the kitchen, opened every cup-board and drawer and then parked himself in front of my open refrigerator."Holy cow. There's nothing in here but take-out food. Don't you know how to cook? There isn't even any milk for mycoffee."

Is this guy for real?

Waking me up before the crack of dawn was bad enough, but invitinghimself over and having an opinion about the state of my refrigerator was over the top. My head was pounding and I simply had no patience for dealing with this arrogant cop. If it hadn't been for my concern about Emer-ald, I'd have kicked his tight little butt right out the door.

But the longer I studied him, the more the wind leaked out of my anger sails. He looked exhausted-as if he hadn't been to bed yet. He waseither wearing the same clothes I'd seen him in at the hospital, or he had a collection of jeans and rumpled white T-shirts. His eyelids drooped slightly, the purple-blue of his eyes seemed less vibrant and his hair was a monument to what happens when you use your fingers as a comb.

Come on, Kismet Don't go getting all warm and gooey now be-cause the guy's worn out This is a professional consultation. No caretaking allowed.

"Sit down, Special Agent Stevens." He eased his long frame into one of my kitchen chairs. I poured us each a mug of coffee, carried them over to the table, and joined him.

"You can call me Alan, doc."

I pulled another clump of my hair over my shoulder, making sure it still covered the ghastly souvenir on my neck. "Well, Alan, how can I help you?"

"'Why are youcounseling vampires?Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

And to think that for the past thirty years I doubt if I heard the word "vampire" more than ten times, and now everyone I talk to seems obsessed with it.

I shook my head. "Dangerous? What's dangerous about helping people free themselves from a destructive delusion?"

He paused. "That's the second time you've said something that leads me to believe you don't know what kind of tiger you've got by the tail. Are you seriously telling me you think vampires are delusions? You really don't see the big picture?"

Oh, please.Im not awake enough for this. I can't believe an FBI guy is talking about vampires.

"Can I see your identification again, Agent Stevens?"

He pulled his picture ID out of his pocket and handed it to me, smiling. "You think there's something fishy about an FBI agent talking about vampires?"

I inspected the ID. It appeared authentic, but I really had no way of knowing.

"You read my mind, Agent Stevens."

"No, I read your face, Dr. Knight."

I handed his ID back to him. "Don't FBI agents usually work in pairs? Where's your partner, Agent Stevens?"

He grinned. "I'm temporarily between partners. I seem to be an acquired taste. My partners keep asking for trans-fers. If you're nervous about whether I'm who I say I am,you can call the local police. They know all about me and what I'm doing here. So, will you answer my question now? Why are you working with vampires?"

My neck was throbbing and my patience was gone. The good feeling I'd gotten from the hot shower was retreating at the speed of light."Special Agent Stevens, I didn't get up this early to dis-cuss fairy tales or cartoon characters, and unless there is some aspect of psychology that I can help you with, I think we're finished."

"Wow. You really don't know. I figured when I saw your ad in the paper that you knew what you were dealing with, but you're flying blind. You're messing with things you don't understand and somebody needs to enlighten you. It might as well be me."

"I don't think that's necessary." I sighed and stood.

He grabbed my wrist. "Wait. Please. Hear me out. I think you'll be intrigued by what I have to say."

Please? I stared into his watery, bloodshot eyes and saw what appeared to be sincerity. Or maybe it was simply ex-haustion. Something about the determined set of his jaw and his easy smile convinced me to sit back down at the table. "I'm listening"

He let go of me. "First, let me give you a little back-ground, to show you that I didn't start out as a believer, either. You and I actually have a lot in common, because I have a Ph.D. in Psychology, too."

My eyebrows winged up, and my mouth formed into an "O." He saw the surprise on my face."Yeah, Doctor Stevens at your service. But I never intended to be a therapist. My in-terests lie with the criminal mind. So when I was recruited by the FBI's Behavioural Psych unit-thinkSilence of the Lambs -I jumped at the chance to become a profiler. I specialize in cases that have paranormal elements. Yep, I can see by the gleam in your eyes that you're drawing comparisons between my work and a certain television program. It's true. Some clevercoworker or another is always puttingX-Filesposters on my door, and my official nickname isMulder ."

So, Special Agent Stevens isn't your normal FBI agent Interesting.

I had to laugh. I'd enjoyed that program and AgentMulder's dry, sarcastic sense ofhumor . Of course, I fancied myself to be more like Scully.

I sipped my coffee. "I'm impressed. So, what's a profiler likeyourself doing in my kitchen wanting to enlighten me about vampires?" I had to admit that thinking of him as a colleague rather than only a cop was making him even more attractive to me. I was a sucker for a clever mind wrapped in a handsome package.

He relaxed back in the chair and stretched like a cat. The white T-shirt materialmolded to his chest muscles and accented the outlines of his nipples.Very distracting.

He saw me notice and smiled.

"About a year ago, I started tracking a pattern. Dead bodies showing up with holes in theirnecks, drained of blood. At first I did just what you're doing: I wrote it off to some cre-ative form of mental illness. I assumed I was searching for one predatorwho moved around a lot, or maybe a copy-cat murderer who was picking up on the vampire theme. And, as I suspect you've done, I did research on everything involv-ing blood drinking."

He downed the last of his coffee, carried his mug over to the pot, poured himself a refill and returned to the table.

Why, yes, thank you.Id love some more coffee.

He drummed his fingers on the side of his mug. "I showed up at the murder scenes, checking for similarities, and the cases just kept getting weirder. Some of the bod-ies had multiple bites that the lab results showed came from different sets of sharp teeth. No human or animal DNA in the wounds. But there were never any signs of struggle-no needle marks for drugs. It was as if the victims simply lay there and let themselves be drained. Almost like some form of hypnosis or brainwashing."

He stopped talking, scanned the kitchen and pointed to a bag of cookies on the counter.

"You mind? I haven't had any breakfast yet."

Without waiting for my response, he got up, fetched the bag of cookies, and returned to his seat."Help yourself." I wondered if he was always this comfortable with strangers or if he was simply oblivious.- No,Im sure. Oblivious.

"Then something happened to turn me into a believer," he continued. "I was inLos Angeles , following through on some leads about the latest murders, and I was attacked by a vampire."

He saw me tighten my lips and raise my eyebrows, and he said, "Let me finish. I know this pushes all your 'this guy needs therapy' buttons, but hang in there with me." He opened the cookie bag, selected one and took a bite.

He scooted to the edge of his chair and excitedly pointed his finger up in the air and brought it down in a quick dive toward the floor. "I saw this thing fly down-I kid you not- from the roof of a 12-story building. He landed in front of me as if he'd just stepped off someone's front porch. Not a hair ruffled.

He came at me, with his teeth bared and these long, sharpcanines, picked me up by my neck, like I weighed nothing, and threw me down on the ground. He was on me so fast I didn't have time to be afraid. I started shouting ques-tions at him-asking him to tell me about himself. For some astounding reason, he stepped back and started answering. At the risk of being boringly unoriginal, it really was an in-terview with a vampire."

It sounds as if poor Special Agent Stevensis missing a few of his marbles.

I bit the inside of my mouth to keep myself from smiling. "What did this vampire tell you?"

Alan raised an eyebrow, tilted his head, and mentally dis-sected the expression on my face to determine whether I was being serious or sarcastic. He must have decided my question was on the level.

"That's a very long conversation for another day, but what's important is that my education was vastly expanded. He gave me a graduate course in the strange and impossible. I think I must have connected with him at exactly the right time, because he was willing to spill all the vampire secrets. Actually, I think he was suicidal. Maybe I should refer him to you for therapy?"He ate another cookie.

I shot him a frosty look. "Okay. Let me get this straight. You're honestly trying to get me to believe that there are such things as vampires-preternatural, blood drinking ghouls- living among us. That they aren't only myths or psychotic humans?"

He leaned over and stared into my eyes. "That's exactly what I'm telling you.

And I'm prepared to put my money where my mouth is. I can show you. I think the vampires have Emerald Addison. There's a coven in one of the clubs downtown-a former church-called The Crypt.

The vampire I talked to-Ian, who's probably back in London now-told me that the group and their leader have been here for a long time and they keep a low profile. But recently some new bloodsuckers-the ones I'm pursuing-have come to town and they're killers. Ian said that the one he's most afraid of is called Bryce."

I visibly started in my chair, sucked in all the air in the room, and made a loud gasping sound.

Alan jumped in his chair. "What is it?"

"You just said the name of the psychopath who barged into my office last night and attacked me."

He pulled out a small notebook and pen from his pocket and began scribbling down everything I'd just said. "You were attacked last night? Tell me what happened."

I told the entire story of the evening before, right up to the point where Devereux entered the scene.

Lying, I said that while I was passed out something must have scared Bryce and Raleigh off because when I woke up, they were gone. I didn't know why I wasn't willing to talk about Devereux, but I just wasn't. After all, he had rescued me.

Alan put the notebook and pen down on the table, stroked an invisible beard and frowned at me.

"You're hold-ing out. There's more that you aren't telling me. What is it?" He reached over, lifted my hairout of the way and turned my head, eyeballing thetechnicolor puncture marks on my neck. "I told you that counselling vampires was dangerous, No wonder you look like death this morning."

Prince Charming has nothing on this guy. "Gee, you sweet talker, you."

"Sorry. Tact isn't my strong suit. In fact, being so blunt and thoughtless is why I never seriously thought about being a psychotherapist. I'd be alienating clients left and right. Ac-tually, you couldn't really look bad if you tried."

He grinned, reached over and picked up a renegade lock of my hair and tucked it behind my ear.

"'Thanks, I think." I'd not only been surprised by his touch, but also by the pleasant sensation that lingered where his finger had brushed my skin.

I've definitely got to get out more. MaybeDenver 's started putting hormones in the water.

Suddenly feeling awkward, I reached into the cookie bag and pulled out a chunk of chocolate chip heaven and chewed loudly.Too loudly.

The smirk on Alan's face told me he'd picked up on my discomfort and was enjoying it. He slouched down in the chair and lifted an ankle to rest on his knee.

I pushed farther away from the table, crossed my legs and put way too much effort into removing the cookie crumbs embedded in my teeth.

Once again, my confidence with men is underwhelming "So, you said you can show me? Prove to me that vam-pires exist?"

He grinned again, obviously enjoying my unease."Yeah. I can. But right now I need to head back to police headquar-ters and see if there's anything new on the whereabouts of Emerald Addison. Are you free tonight?"

Smug bastard.

"That depends on why you're asking."

He got up and filled his coffee cup again, then paced around the kitchen. "I think it's time for you to find out what you've stepped in. I want to take you to that club, The Crypt, and give you a dose of an alternate reality. How about I pick you up at 10 p.m.?" He reached into the bag on the table and ate yet another cookie.

There's no justice in the world. The man doesn't have an ounce of extra fat on his body. AndIve made a thorough inspection.

"Why would you want to go to a place you believe is a vampire coven? Aren't you afraid you'll be attacked again? Why would you want me to go there with you?"

He stood gazing down at me, shaking his head. "Whoa! For someone who doesn't believe in any of this, you ask a lot of questions. I'll give you a taste of what Ian told me. Becoming a vampire doesn't automatically change some-one into an evil monster. That's all fiction. The personality you had before you died is carried over into your new exis-tence. And, most important for our purposes, if you were a psychotic human being, you'll be a psychotic vampire. Now, that's a totally different level of psychopathology."

He picked up his notebook from the table and tucked it back into his pocket. "So, from what I've learned so far, the vampires in the coven at The Crypt are, for lack of a better word, more mellow than the ones I'm searching for. They've been able to stay below the radar for so long because the leader keeps them on a tight leash and he doesn't tolerate anybehavior that draws attention to their existence."

Sitting there while he loomed over me had started to make me nervous, so I stood, expecting him to step back out of my way, but he didn't. He remained there, staring at me with those lazy eyes, displaying the same overconfident smirk I'd seen at the hospital.I raised my chin. "Excuse me."

He laughed.

Arrogant jerk.

I waited for him to give me room to move, and when he did, I strolled over to the counter, refilled my coffee mug and returned to sit at the table. I decided to ignore his bad man-ners.

I inspected the contents of my cup. "Have you met the vampires at that club?"

"Yeah, I've been over there several times. The head honcho is called Devereux and he's been very cooperative. I'll introduce you."

At the mention of his name, my body immediately revis-ited the kiss I'd shared with Devereux, and I felt the heat rise on my cheeks. I think it was safe to say that introductions had already been taken care of.

"But what about all the stuff about vampires drinking human blood?There isn't anything mellow about that," I said quickly, hoping to divert Alan's attention from what I was sure must have been my obvious reaction to his mention of De-vereux. Either he didn't notice or he chose not to comment, because he nodded his head and answered the question.

He paced around the room again. "Ian told me that the blood thing is highly misunderstood. First, he said it isn't necessary to kill someone. Small amounts of blood from severaldonors works just fine. As I already said, some vampires-same as humans-have more evil tendencies than others. For those vampires, killing is the thrill.

For them, not killing would be like sex without the orgasm. And, speaking of orgasms, Ian said that drinking blood is better than sex.Which they can have, by the way."

I concentrated on keeping my face neutral. "It sounds as if Ian was very talkative."

Alan rested his hip against the counter."Yeah. We spent hours together and I took great notes. Then I got more information from the coven at the club. It's been a very edu-cational experience. And it's helped clarify who and what I'm searching for."

"Wait a minute. You said the vampire leader doesn't draw attention to his group. Why would he volunteer to talk to you? What's to stop you from turning them over to the local police?"

"Well, think about it. You've been visited by the crazi-est vampire inDenver , you have clients who sit in your office and tell you about vampires, and I've just spent the last hour trying to convince you that vampires exist, yet you still don't believe. What are the chances anyone would actually think the owner of The Crypt is the leader of a vampire coven? Devereux can tell me the truth because he knows that no one would buy it. And, when you see the club you'll understand how easy it is for them to just blend into the fantasy."

"And what about the FBI?Have you told them the truth? Do they know what you're up to?"

"Let's just say that they are under the impression I'm tracking humans who are pretending to be vampires. They might amuse themselves by laughing at myMulderisms , but the FBI is pretty conservative, and if they knew what I was really doing, I'd be out on my tail. Okay. I'm reallyoutta here now. I'll see you tonight at 10.And, oh yeah. Thanks for the Java."