I couldn't help but note that he sounded much more lucid than in our last conversation. "You give me information; I give you a measure of temporary freedom."

"I suppose you mean to tether me like a cur for a nice walk."

"Something like that, if you cooperate."

"What makes you think I know anything that might be of interest to you? It's not as if I have anyone with whom I can share news and gossip."

"Don't you? I thought you might have had visitors lately."

He laughed. "Is that so?"

"You can begin by telling me everything you know about those two." This baiting was a shot in the dark, but I reasoned I had nothing to lose.

Initially I had a.s.sumed that Werm had unwittingly given Damien information about us over drinks at the Portal and that Damien had told Reedrek of our activities. But now I suspected that he had connected with Eleanor through Reedrek. Since Reedrek was her grandsire, Eleanor could easily have sought him out and given both him and Damien any information they wanted about us. If I'd had any doubts about Werm, they were officially dismissed.

"And you can begin by kissing my a.s.s. I will be out of here soon enough, and when I'm free I shall kill you."

It wasn't often that I received death threats, and two within a few hours seemed excessive. Not that I was overly worried. A vampire trapped in a granite slab and a deceased fledgling were not of much concern.

"I'll leave you for the worms then," I said. "And the rats. Think about my offer, but don't think too long. My good mood can't last forever."

"And neither can you, boy," Reedrek said, and cackled wildly.

Disgusted, I turned on my heel and left, the sound of his braying laughter ringing in my mind.

My restlessness had not left me by the time I reached the mansion, so I decided to visit Jack at his garage. The front bays were closed against the winter wind, and I headed for the back door. The first sight that greeted me as I rounded the building was that of Huey the zombie standing in a large hole in the earth, earnestly digging deeper with a spade.

Caw! I looked up to see a large crow on a pine branch above Huey's head. It hopped furiously back and forth across the branch, as if its feathers were infested with mites."Have you a new pet, Huey?"

"I reckon," he said. "She's been here a couple of days now."

I wondered what had convinced him it was a female, but didn't ask. I wasn't in the mood to immerse myself in a discussion on avian s.e.xing techniques with a zombie. Huey had been a few neurons short of a synapse even before he pa.s.sed. Now, according to Jack, he had even fewer functioning brain cells.

"What is it you're digging for, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm trying to dig out my Chevy Corsica," he said.

"Of course you are," I said. "I wish you G.o.dspeed with that endeavor."

"Thankee, sir."

When I walked into the establishment, the motley group of men Jack called the irregulars looked up from their poker hands and murmured greetings. I could smell their fear of me, even though of late, as my world spun more and more out of control, I hadn't felt like a particularly fearsome creature.

Jack was working under the hood of an SUV, making him look as if he were being eaten alive by some prehistoric forerunner of the crocodile.

"Throwing yourself into your work," I observed.

"Yeah. I might as well," he said, his top half still buried within the maw of the machine. "You don't come here much. What's happening?"

I brought him up to date on what had happened last night with the Freddy Blackstone impostor and Ginger-Eleanor. This last piece of news made him bang his skull on the underside of the SUV's hood as he shimmied out to look at me.

"Ow! Dammit!" He rubbed his head. "You're bull-s.h.i.tting me, right? Eleanor is back, only in Ginger's body?"

"I bulls.h.i.t you not," I a.s.sured him.

"So do you know for sure if Eleanor has managed to vampirize Ginger's body or do you think that she could sap your strength just through her spirit without going whole hog?"

"I don't know. Ordinarily I would propose seeing if one of our human friends could lure her out into the sun or trick her in some way to find out if she truly is a vampire. But now that she knows we're onto her, she's not going to show herself unless and until she thinks she has an advantage."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know what to do other than wait for Eleanor and/or Damien to surface, but I'm entertaining any and all suggestions," I stated.

"I'm fresh out of ideas." He shrugged and sighed.

"When it rains, it pours."

I knew he was referring to his own situation with Connie. "How did it go last night?"

"I told her she's the Slayer," he said, wiping grease off his hands with a shop rag. "I broke up with her, and now she hates me.

Then I went back home and told Seth it was time to do his thing. He should be at her apartment right now." "Jack, I'm-"

"Sorry. I know."

I sighed, wishing there was something I could say to ease his pain. "Let me know if you get any ideas about how to deal with Eleanor and Damien. And keep me apprised of what's happening with Connie. Hopefully, in a few days we'll be out of danger from her, at least temporarily."

Jack nodded. "Is it going to be this way forever?"

"What do you mean?"

"One crisis right after another. We had so many years of peace and quiet, except for the occasional rogue vamp or human criminal we had to get rid of. Now it seems like the whole world is caving in."

"I honestly don't know. I think for now the best thing to do is to take things one night at a time."

"Isn't that the slogan they use in Alcoholics Anonymous?" Jack asked.

"Something like that." I had a feeling Jack was beginning to wish there was such a thing as Vampires Anonymous.

Jack must have read my thought as he picked up a wrench and dove back under the hood. As I turned to go, I heard him mutter, "h.e.l.lo. My name is Jack, and I'm a vampire."

Jack I scrubbed at the grease on my hands with the abrasive cleanser Rennie kept by the sink until the burned one started to bleed. I had to work out some of this nervous frustration I was carrying around. Throwing myself into my work wasn't helping. Maybe I should take another fast drive up and down the back roads, get some wind in my fangs. But for some reason that didn't appeal to me tonight.

William said I should keep him apprised of the Connie situation. How could I do that unless I was watching it closely for myself? I reasoned. With that, I climbed down to the entrance to the tunnels from the oil pit and took off at a jog for Connie's apartment.

I surfaced through a grate near the corner where I'd seen Freddy Blackstone-or should I say Damien-skulking around the other night. Parked against the sidewalk was Seth's vintage Chevy pickup. He hadn't wasted any time, like I'd known he wouldn't.

I used glamour to cloak myself so that Connie couldn't sense my presence. It was the same trick I used to keep other vampires from sensing I was around, but I'd never used it much, and I didn't know if it would work on the Slayer in the same way.

I looked up at her apartment window. There was a light on in the living room, but other than that I didn't see anything. Rubbing my arms from the chill, I realized how silly I felt and how much sillier I would feel if Connie came to the window and saw me. I'd made sure Seth was on the job, but anything further was just punishing myself. Was I really prepared to see two shapes behind the curtains come together in an embrace or a kiss? How would I feel if the living room light went out and the bedside lamp went on?

Pretty d.a.m.ned bad, I decided.

As I turned to go, I felt the approach of another blood drinker, but not anyone in my bloodline. Had that Damien guy decided to show his face again? I crouched in front of Seth's truck; the vampire was coming from the other direction and wouldn't be able to see me. As he grew nearer, I noticed how little sound his footsteps made. Travis.

He rang the bell of one of the apartments and a voice, not Connie's, answered. He whispered something, and I could hear the glamour in it. Whomever he'd selected at random fell for the trick and buzzed him inside. I sneaked out from behind the truck and ran to the door, catching it with my fingers just before it locked itself behind Travis. I peered in and saw that he had entered the stairway to the second floor.I followed him, keeping out of sight, still covering myself in glamour. It was a blessing I was good at it because Travis was old, powerful, and not easily fooled. He looked neither right nor left, obviously set on a single goal-to kill the Slayer. He'd been bluffing when he told William he was leaving town. He'd had no such intention.

When he'd reached the hallway to Connie's apartment, I made my move, running at him as hard as I could. He wheeled to face me and delivered a roundhouse kick to my midsection. The force of the blow flung me against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.

Connie opened her door and peered out. "What's going on out here?"

"No!" I yelled. "Go back!"

But it was too late. With the same preternatural speed with which he'd knocked me into the wall, Travis was on her. I scrambled to my feet, but I knew I was too late. I saw Seth entering the doorway and realized that though he was closer he wouldn't be fast enough, either.

As I hurtled down the hallway, I saw Connie's horrified face as she made eye contact with the vampire who would take her life.

Fifteen.

William I was at the mansion going over accounts when the phone rang. I could see by the readout that the call was from the home of my old friend Tilly Granger. It was Tilly's faithful butler, Dawson.

"Mr. Thorne, could you come quickly, please?" Though his voice was calm and professional, I could hear the strain of anguish in it.

This was the call I had dreaded for the past twenty years. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

I ran to my vehicle and jumped behind the wheel. As I headed for Tilly's house on Orleans Square, I cursed myself for not checking on her as soon as I returned from Europe. I'd met her more than seventy years ago when she was a debutante, and had in fact spirited her away from her own coming-out party. I'd taken her to the Cloister on Sea Island, and then I'd taken her virginity in a thrilling night of the most joyous lovemaking I'd known since my wife, Diana, and I were alive.

She was the first woman I'd offered to make a blood drinker. In truth, I'd begged her. She would have made the perfect companion for me, and I doubt if I would ever have looked at another woman for all eternity had she taken me up on my offer of immortality.

She'd turned me down and our affair had ended, but not before we'd become the talk of Savannah society. Our friendship never wavered, however, and I was always there for her. Decades ago I had tried to talk her out of what I knew would be a disastrous marriage, but she went through with it anyway.

One sweltering summer's evening I sipped mint juleps with her and her husband on their veranda and wondered why Tilly wore a shawl even though the heat was oppressive. She'd reached for the pitcher and the fabric had slipped, revealing purplish bruises. I discreetly bade them good night, and with a meaningful nod to Tilly, I made as if to take my leave. Instead, I waited in the shadows of the square until the lights of the mansion went out and Tilly met me on the veranda in the dark.

She told me everything, and we made a pact. The next morning, her husband's body was found in an alley in the industrial district.

The poor drunken sod had been robbed, beaten, and garroted so violently that the ligature had nearly severed his head. The wound was so messy that any fang marks could not be distinguished. Funny how that happened.

The merry widow and I remained friends, and some twenty years ago she had extracted a promise from me that I hoped I would never have to fulfill. She wanted to be able to choose the time and place of her own death, and she wanted me to be its agent. I drove like a man possessed and reached her mansion sooner than I would have wished. When Dawson opened the door for me, I asked, "What has happened? I saw her only recently and she was well."

"She became ill shortly after your friend Mr. Cruz left us."

"She couldn't have caught what ailed him," I insisted. Tilly had cared for Iban when he suffered from the rotting plague. When Gerard had developed a vaccine, I made him inject Tilly and her staff with the serum as a precaution. When we told Tilly's servants that Iban had suffered from an aggressive flesh-eating bacterial infection, they were more than happy to submit to the vaccination.

"It's not that," Dawson said, and I could see the worry on his brow. "It's pneumonia. She's so frail. The doctors tried all the antibiotics, but they didn't catch it in time, and she insisted on coming home to die. She has even refused supplemental oxygen. She says it's her time."

I mounted the stairs to her bedroom as if I were going to my own doom. I had to pause at the doorway when I saw her, my undead heart at the breaking point. She rested against the embroidered pillows, so thin and frail I would hardly have recognized her. She was as pallid as a creature of the night, and still beautiful in her way, dressed in a silk nightgown of her favorite color, peach. Her breath came in shallow wheezing gasps that pained me to hear.

I knelt beside her and gently lifted her hand to my lips. "My darling," I said.

She opened her eyes. "My handsome swain," she whispered, the glimmer still in her eyes. "You know why I sent for you, don't you?"

"You want me to fetch you some pralines from the candy store on River Street," I said. Please tell me you want no more than that.

"Not this time, although it's tempting." She suffered a fit of coughing that left her even more breathless. Her cheeks took on a momentary blush of effort as she labored for oxygen.

It is not often a master vampire of my power feels helpless, but I did then. There was nothing I could do for her save what she had called me for.

"Do you remember your promise?" she managed to whisper when she'd regained a measure of breath.

"Yes."

"It's time," she said.

I pursed my lips as if forbidding my fangs from showing themselves. "Are you sure, my dear?"

"I am." She smiled a peaceful, beatific smile and managed to squeeze my hand. "Thank you for everything you've ever done for me, including this. Especially this."

I nodded, unable to speak. I looked her in the eyes for several long moments before I managed to say, "It doesn't have to be this way, you know. I could still-"

She held up a hand to silence me. "I could hardly enjoy everlasting life in this old body, now could I?"

"But there might be an answer." I had wracked my brain for a solution on the drive to Tilly's mansion and had come up with an idea, though it was a long shot. "I know of a case of demon possession. If I can banish the demonic spirit from a young woman's body, perhaps Melaphia could help you inhabit it. The spirit of the woman whose body it is can't be found, and-"

Tilly tried to laugh and almost succ.u.mbed to another coughing episode. "No," she said firmly. "If I wanted immortality by unnatural means, I would have let you make me into a blood drinker while I was young and strong. I am happy with the choice I've made, both then and now, to lead a mortal, human life. But thank you for the offer."

I sighed. "So this is it, then?"

"Yes, please," she said. "If you would be so kind, may I have one last dance before it's time to go?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I a.s.sured her.

I lifted her, feather-light, from the bed and held her tenderly against me. I pressed my lips to hers and projected the full power of my glamour onto both of us.

We were back on the beach the night we met, music wafting its way to us from the bandstand. She wore a gauzy, peach-colored dress that clung to her girlish figure like a second skin. Her hair was cut in a bob, the style of the time, and she held a half-full champagne bottle in one hand as she beckoned me into the surf with the other. "Dance with me in the sea," she said.

I caught up to her and grasped her around her slender waist, pressing her close and swaying to the music as the waves crashed against our thighs. I kissed her and she put both arms around my neck, letting go of the bottle as she did.

The bottle shimmered shamrock green in the ocean and floated away, perhaps to be found by some beachcomber on a distant sh.o.r.e after time had reduced it to a bright gem of polished gla.s.s.

Jack I reached Travis and grasped him by the shoulders, hauling him backward, amazed that I'd gotten to him in time. His fangs, terrible to see because of his ancient power, were at full length. But he had frozen. Had the power of the Slayer caused him to go into some kind of suspended animation?

By that time, Seth had reached Connie and put himself between her and Travis-but not before I could see a look in her eye that was as strange as his.