"You stalked me, Fang."

"It was the only way, Moon Dance. The only way. You would not have come out into the light. Literally."

"I would have. Someday."

"But not soon enough, obviously. I waited too long, and look what happened. Aroooooo."

"You're drunk, Fang."

"But that makes my pain no less real, Samantha Moon. I loved you like no other, and you tossed me aside for your doggie toy. The least you could do was turn me, to make me like you, to help ease the pain."

"You're trying to manipulate me, to make me feel guilty, Fang, and that's a s.h.i.tty thing to do."

"It's nothing but the truth, Moon Dance."

"Get some sleep, Fang."

Indeed, his eyes were dropping fast. He turned on his side and wrapped an arm around himself and I saw something disturbing at his wrists. Fresh wounds. Bite marks. Had he been biting himself again? I didn't know.

I stared down at Fang, a man I legitimately cared for and loved on some level. A man for whom I had no answers. That he was miserable, there was no doubt. That he loved me in his own way, I had no doubt either.

What I should do about it all, I still didn't know.

Soon after he was snoring loudly into one of the couch cushions, I decided to follow up on a hunch.

I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door.

Chapter Forty.

I was looking down from a roof top, watching the Fullerton Playhouse below.

It was windy up here, and my light jacket flapped wildly. Too wildly. I think I was losing weight. A steady diet of blood will do that to you.

I was kneeling on the roof's corner, four stories up. Directly below me was a bank. Why a bank needed four floors, I hadn't a clue. Sure as h.e.l.l wasn't to store my money. So far there was no movement below, although I had spotted something very interesting in the alley behind the theater.

A blue cargo van.

I waited and watched. Other than the van, the theater looked empty. There was no movement. No lights. It was well past time for any rehearsals and any cleaning crews.

I decided not to make a move, unless something prompted me to. I was here for one reason only: to keep an eye on the theater, should the s.h.i.t hit the fan. Or should someone get tipped off about the police raid.

So far, all was quiet.

My cell phone chimed. A text message. I glanced at the screen. A text message from Danny.

Thanks, Sam! They didn't come back to collect from me. Whatever you did, I owe you one.

"You owe me two, loser," I whispered, and erased his message.

I was dressed in jeans and the aforementioned light jacket. There had been an old fire escape that I had managed to grab onto. Now, I waited and watched. Just another mom with two kids, waiting on the roof of a bank building for a serial killer to emerge from his creepy theater.

Perhaps an hour later my cell vibrated.

I picked up on the first vibration which, I think, was the equivalent to a single ring. It was, of course, Detective Sherbet.

"Mason wasn't there," he said.

"Go figure," I said. "Anything turn up?"

"Nothing yet, but my guys are working on it. If there's a blood stain anywhere, they'll find it."

"Except if he's as good at killing as I suspect, then there's not going to be any evidence at his home."

"What are you saying, Sam?"

"He kills at the theater, Detective. You know that, I know that. He kills and drains and bottles his victims' blood all at the theater."

"A blood factory."

"Or a slaughtering house. A human slaughtering house."

"Jesus, Sam." Sherbet paused. "Then why not destroy the bodies there?"

"Maybe he does. Or maybe he usually does. Maybe he ran out of room. Or maybe he's decided to make it a bit of a game."

"Jesus, Sam. I'm too old for this s.h.i.t."

"We have to stop him, Detective."

Sherbet paused again, said, "We've got another missing person reported tonight. A female. Twenty-three. Last seen leaving cla.s.s at Fullerton College two nights ago."

"She's there," I said, with a surety that wasn't psychic. It was my gut. My investigator's instincts. "The son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h has her. And my bet is she's somewhere behind that door."

"We can't just go in there, Sam."

"Perhaps you can't, but I can."

"Sam, wait."

"What?"

He exhaled loudly and if I truly wanted to I could have followed his entire train of thought. Instead, I gave him his privacy, let him work this out on his own. Finally, after exhaling again, he said, "I'm coming with you."

"Welcome aboard, Detective."

Chapter Forty-one.

We met behind the theater.

Sherbet was wearing jeans and a leather jacket that barely covered his roundish mid-section. He was also sporting dark-leather shoes that looked like a cross between running shoes and hiking shoes. I knew he was packing heat, and the truth was, I felt better having him here. Sherbet exuded an aura of control and security. More so than any man I'd ever met, even Kingsley.

I might be a creature of the night who has faced my share of monsters, but sneaking into the dragon's lair alone just sounded like one h.e.l.l of a s.h.i.tty way to spend an evening.

The alley parking lot was empty, with only a single spotlight shining down on the back door. A sticker claimed that there was an alarm system in use, but we were about to see. I doubted there was. If this place was what I thought it was, then I doubted Mr. Robert Mason ever wanted the police anywhere near the premises. If anything, he would handle the intruders himself.

Not to mention, Mason had help. Two goons had shown up at my house and neither had been Mason, I was sure of it. Three against two. I liked our chances.

I doubted Hanner was directly involved in the production of the blood. She seemed more refined than that. She seemed...better than that. What her connection was, exactly, I didn't know.

But I was going to find out.

I was the first to try the door. Locked, of course. I turned the lever a little harder, and it broke free in my hand. "It's not really breaking in," I said, holding up the broken handle. "If the door is broken, right?"

Sherbet shook his head and eased his bulk around me. As he did so, I had a momentary whiff of Old Spice and sweat, which, for me, was one h.e.l.l of a heady mixture. "We're not breaking in," he growled, as he broke in. "This is an emergency search. There's a young woman missing, and he's our only suspect. I'm sticking to that story until the day I die."

"Sounds good to me."

He removed his Smith & Wesson from his shoulder holster. "C'mon."

The hallway was pitch black to anyone but me. To me, it was alive and alight. Sherbet reached into a pocket and removed a small flashlight that had a lot of umph to it, revealing a narrow hallway with a door to either side.

"Lights?" I asked.

Sherbet shook his head and continued sweeping the powerful beam over walls and floors and ceilings. "I don't want anyone running; at least, not yet. We'll catch the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds by surprise."

"Sounds like my last date."

Sherbet grinned. "Sure it does. So what are we looking for?"

"A storage room. Or a props rooms. We're close to it, I think."

"Then what?"

"We look for a mirror."

"A mirror?"

"Yes."

"And you know this how?"

"I'm a freaky chick."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Then what?"

"There should be an opening behind it."

"Thank G.o.d you didn't say through it. Dealing with vampires is bad enough. I don't think I can handle Harry Potter, too." Sherbet took another step, then paused. "Hey, do that crazy thing you do with your mind."

"My mind?"

"You know, one of those mental scouting jobs you do, or whatever you call it."

"'Mental scouting job' sounds good to me," I said. "Give me a moment."

"I'll give you two."

I closed my eyes, exhaled, and cast my thoughts out like a net. The net scattered throughout the theater, through rooms and offices, across the stage and theater seating, and even up into the lighting booth.

"We're alone up here," I said, reporting back, opening my eyes. "Except for the ghosts."

"What ghosts?"

"The ghosts that have been following us since we stepped foot in here."

"I didn't need to know that."

Lots of old places have spirits hanging around them, and this theater, which was decades old, if not a century, was no exception. Still, there seemed to be a lot of spirit energy here, more than to be expected, energy which flitted past quickly, energy which appeared and disappeared next to us, energy which watched us from the shadows. Some of the energy fully manifested into lightly glowing human forms. These watched us from doorways and rafters, from behind curtains and in windows. I decided not to tell Sherbet about the ent.i.ty standing next to him. For a tough guy, he sure got the w.i.l.l.i.e.s over ghosts.

"You said alone up here," said Sherbet. "You think this creep works below ground?"

"Would be my guess."

"And your radar whatchamacallit doesn't pick up Mason?"

"Not yet."

"Which means?"

"We're still probably too far from him."

"Or that the place is empty."

"We'll see," I said.

"Fine. C'mon."