Midnight Hunter
Bonnie Bernard
Copyright 2011 by Kymberly J. Lewis
Smashwords Edition


ISBN: 0983827249
ISBN-13: 9-780-983-82724-5




I dedicate this book to Gilligan
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to thank my ever-patient husband, Doug and my best friend, Kristy.  From financial backing to emotional life-support, those two make me feel like the luckiest person on earth.  They also picked me up and dusted me off when I felt hopeless.  Thank you to my nephew Jerry, for the “sick” cover design and for the perfect website.  And thank you to my friends who supported me, who read passages and offered feedback.
Grandmother Wisdom


When she was seven years old, Donna McCormick’s grandmother sat her down and explained why she was different from other seven year old girls.
“It’s because of your toes,” Grandma had said.  “Toes like yours are proof that a beautiful goddess watches over you and keeps you safe so you can fulfill your special destiny.”  Grandma pointed to the second toe on each of Donna’s feet.  They were a whole half inch longer than her first toes, a fact that made it hard for Donna’s mom to find shoes that would fit her daughter right.  It was a fact that also made Donna feel weird.  But back then, grandmother wisdom could explain the weird out of everything.  So Donna smiled because she had a goddess watching over her, and a special destiny.
Then, five years later, shortly before That Day wrecked Donna’s family,  Grandma explained something else.    
“Someday you’ll meet two men,” she said.  “One will sweep you off your feet and the other will knock you down.  Beware – they are from a dark place where mortals dare not tread.”
“What do you mean, Grandma?” Donna asked.
“Your life is destined to have many surprises, my girl.”  Then Grandma got silent, so Donna’s mother leaned over her daughter’s shoulder and whispered.
“Your grandmother is losing her mind to dementia.  Pay no attention to her.  And you’d best hope for your dad’s sake and your own that it’s not genetic.” 
The next day, Grandma had a brain hemorrhage and died.
So much for grandmother wisdom and special destinies, Donna thought.  She wiped away a tear, looked down at her weird toes, and swore she’d never fall for nonsense again.  Just give me a normal life without any surprises, and I’ll be happy.

CHAPTER ONE

At the intersection where the China Palace and Taco Grando fight for peoples' attention, Donna McCormick was first in line to stop her silver Sentra at a red light, and a distracted driver in a blue Toyota Camry squealed his brakes to avoid slamming against the back of her.  He would’ve hit her anyway, if just in the nick of time, Donna hadn’t seen the impact coming and hit the gas pedal ever so slightly - after checking for pedestrians, of course.
“That was too close,” Donna gripped the steering wheel and looked in the rear view mirror.   Ever since That Day nine years ago, she had always felt intimidated by cars that got too close.  Not that she was afraid of cars, she was just afraid of people being killed by one.  It was a lesson Donna had taken home on That Day – always watch out for terrible surprises.  It was a philosophy Donna had lived by from That Day forward and now here she was, a week from her twenty-first birthday, and watching out for terrible surprises had just saved her yet again.
The blue Toyota’s driver was a guy in a suit and tie who refused to make eye contact with Donna, and she couldn’t blame him.  If the tables were turned, she'd feel mortified, too.  Donna's best friend, Mo unclasped her seat belt, whirled around in the passenger seat, leaned out the window and gave the guy a middle finger. 
“If we wanted you up our ass, we'd have sent a written invitation!” she hollered.  An old lady waiting for the bus looked up from her book and stared. The light turned green and Donna headed south.  The Toyota guy followed. In fact, he followed the Sentra with its two college-girl occupants clear across town and west to Sunflower Street.  So Donna avoided turning right on it, even though her car was full of moving boxes and that's where she wanted to dump them off. 
“Hey,” Mo pointed. “You passed your parents’ street.” 
“I know where my parents live,” Donna turned to Mo and glowered. “But it appears you pissed off that guy enough that now he's following us. He's been on our tail ever since you flipped him off."
Mo's cropped, blue hair shuddered when she shook her head in exasperation. “You’re the most over-reactive person on earth.”
Donna threw her a look.  “There is nothing wrong with being cautious.”
“But there is something wrong with being paranoid of your own shadow,” Mo grumbled and turned to see the blue Toyota, still following them.  “Hmmmm,” she said in a less flippant tone, “If you're worried about it, then why don’t you just drive to the police station and get him off your tail?"
Donna's eyebrow lifted. “That a good idea.”  Even though she hated police stations, and even more than that, she hated police officers.   
“Of course it’s a good idea,” Mo grinned. “All my ideas are good.  Like the idea I had this morning about dyeing your hair green.”  
“My hair is okay the way it is,” Donna said defensively.
Mo shrugged.  “Yeah, blonde is boring, but I guess it’s also ‘okay’.”   Under her breath she added, “For a plain-Jane.”  Donna didn’t respond to that, for the simple reason that she knew Mo expected her too.  Granted, Donna didn’t do much to stand out.  She had never highlighted her hair neon orange or pierced her own nipple just to show it off in gym class – things Mo had done before they’d even graduated high school – but Donna recognized that the town in which they’d grown up was a nice, quiet, conservative place.  In order to fit in, to feel normal, one did well to look just like Donna did – blonde, blue-eyed, and wearing crisp, clean blouses paired with basic jeans.  It was part of her philosophy – terrible suprises rarely happen to normal people. 
Mo wasn’t of that mindset.  In fact just last week, she’d attended a wedding dressed in black and slathered in foreboding make up - like something out of a zombie nightmare.  In Mo’s world-view, terrible surprises picked on normal people first.   


The police station was only a few miles west, and when Donna pulled in the parking lot, sure enough the blue Toyota pushed right on past. Donna swallowed hard and let her sweaty grip around the steering wheel loosen.
“Now I feel better.” She turned to Mo. “Next time keep your gestures to yourself."
“It wasn’t a gesture so much as it was a one-fingered wave,” Mo shrugged.  
“Whatever it was, please just keep your fingers inside the car at all times.”
“Spoken like somebody with weird toes,” Mo scoffed.

That evening, Donna spent her first night in three years back at her parents’ house.  She’d been forced to make the move when the store she’d worked at closed and she couldn’t find a replacement job by the time school started. 
My last year of college and I’m starting it off by taking a giant step backwards… 
And during that first night back home, Donna had a dream. 
She was in a dark, thick forest - one that sheltered her against the torrents of rain pouring from the night sky. With each step deeper into the woods, she smelled pine needles and wet soil. And then...she caught the aroma of something else.
“Hello? Is anybody here?” Tree tops protested against the wind and an owl called out a lonely hoot, but nobody else answered. Donna held out her arms, because it was pitch black in that forest. She felt for obstacles, took a step forward. Then she took another. Twigs snapped and one pierced her left foot. “Damn it.” Her fingertips made contact with an obstruction. A tree? A rock? 
It inhaled. 
Donna stared frantically at the darkness. “Who's there?” Her voice was swept away in a wind gust. A branch snapped and a chill swept through the forest. The thing that breathed grabbed her wrists and pulled her close. Donna couldn't see, but she could smell; rotting flesh and...hate. Until that moment, it had never occurred to her that hate carried a scent. Lightning splintered the sky, streaming light through the forest.  Donna saw what had hold of her. A tall man with skin the shade of decomposing flesh and eyes like death. She screamed, but thunder drowned it out. Or maybe it was his voice.
“It has been a long time, Donna.”
“How do you know my name?”
His chilling laughter made the trees tremble. “Why do you always play coy with me?” Another lightning bolt. His blood-colored eyes stared directly in Donna's blue ones, now wide with fear. “You are as beautiful as ever – blonde, blue-eyed and tall.  A classic American beauty.” He looked her up and down before darkness sheltered her again. “A little skinny in this latest manifestation, but otherwise stunning.” His gaze, chilling but burning, made Donna feel vulnerable, and he seared her soul with his next comment.  “That close call today brought back such a tragic memory, did it not, Donna?”
“What are you talking about?” she quivered.
 “It was a blue car that killed your little brother, was it not?  Your little brother Sam, who under your care, bolted in front of traffic and lost his precious life at the tender age of six.  He would be fifteen now, would he not?  A sophomore in high school.  Instead, he is nothing but bones in a grave and a lost-soul stamped forever upon the heart of his mother and father.  And you are responsible for his demise, are you not, my pet?”
Donna’s eyes stung with tears.  “It wasn’t my fault,” she cried.  “I was young -”
“Nonsense!” he snapped.  “You were twelve - certainly old enough to keep an eye on a trusting, helpless baby brother.  But instead of keeping an eye on him, you were busy watching boys, were you not, Donna?”
“No,” she shook her head frantically.  “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Even the policeman said it was your fault.  Remember?  He wrote it on his report.  ‘The girl was supposed to be watching her brother.’  But you were not doing your job of ‘brother’s keeper,’ were you, Donna?”
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
“I want to make your dreams come true,” he snickered.  “Well, some of them.  I can never give you the dream of your old life.  Little Sammy is gone, by your own careless hand, and with him went your nice, normal life – a mommy and daddy and a little brother and you.  Neat and tidy and orderly.”  With that, he laughed coldly.
“Who are you?” 
“I am your dream man, Donna.”
“I don't understand.”
“You will.” His laughter iced the air. 
“Now wake up, angel. Your father is calling.”


“Donna,” Dad's hand was on her shoulder, goading her to consciousness. “Wake up, honey.”
The reek of rot was ripped away and she was in her parents’ house on Sunflower Street, the one she'd grown up in. Back in her childhood bedroom with the plain, colonial furniture, lavender walls, and book shelves stuffed with those romance novels high school girls love but college girls love to hate. Well, Donna hated them, anyway. And on that particular morning, she woke up doing something she'd thought she'd outgrown about a year after Sammy died - biting her fingernails. 
Donna's dad loomed over her in his worn, navy blue robe, the one he'd had for as long as Donna could remember. His cheeks still wore yesterday's stubble.
“Your alarm's been going off for ten minutes. How you managed to sleep through it is beyond me, but it's time to get up if you want to make it to the first day of class on time.” 
“Class…” Donna mumbled.
Dad winked. “I know this is not what you wanted honey, but I'm happy to have you back under our roof. Like everything's back to normal.”
“Yeah...normal.” 
Dad smiled warmly then left.  The bedroom door creaked shut behind him. It seemed like everything in that old New England house complained when asked to do its job. Donna stretched, pushed down the lavender and purple striped sheets, the ones she'd loved so much when Mom had picked them out for her seventeenth birthday. The more mature-looking, blue and gray plaid ones Donna had picked out for her bed at the college apartment, were folded neatly in a box in the garage. Also in the garage was a mint condition, cherry red, '65 convertible Mustang that was delivered yesterday. Donna's mom had promptly started it up, put down the top, and drove the car around the block.  Then she pulled it in the garage, put the top back up and beamed. That's what happens when you're good at your game. You get nice stuff. Donna's mom was a lawyer, and so was her dad. Mr. and Mrs. Mike and Caroline McCormick, Esq.  Donna, being their only child left, had been expected to follow in their footsteps. McCormick, McCormick, and McCormick – Attorneys at Law. It would've looked great on a shingle outside the family practice. But it wasn't going to happen.  Maybe it was the freaky toes keeping Donna out of step, or maybe it was that she liked to sketch pictures of her law instructor’s balding head and severe overbite in the margins of her notebook instead of listening to his definition of “probate law.” Either way, in Donna's future, there were no classic, cherry Mustangs or fancy letters after her name. There was only the nagging question – What if Sammy had gone to law school?  Would there have been a family shingle with his name on it?
Donna hopped out of bed.  
“Ow,” she cringed when her left foot made contact with the floor. She propped it up and squinted at a tiny puncture.
“What in the hell...?” Something tugged at her memory - a forest?  The smell of rotting flesh?  She shook her head and tried to dislodge the image but just came up with darkness. So she showered, dressed, and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. Mom wore crisp work attire and too much perfume. Dad's morning paper crinkled when he flipped the pages. Donna smiled. Leave it to Dad to still get the news in paper form. She saw herself in the mirror Mom had stuck to the fridge to keep herself from eating.   Why did it look so distorted? 
“I feel like I need a face transplant,” she announced. 
Dad looked up from his paper, newsprint reflecting against the lenses of his glasses. He was clean-shaven, showered, and ready for work. “You’re beautiful.  You have a clear complexion, perfect teeth, damned good genetics and big, baby-blue eyes.”  He winked. “Come to think of it, perhaps what you need is an eye transplant.”
“Parents see their kids as extensions of themselves,” Donna grabbed her travel mug and felt the stab of Mom's glare when she added too much sugar to the coffee. “So they sometimes see them as perfect.”
“We don't all think our offspring are faultless.” Mom held her mug of steaming coffee and dipped biscotti in it. “I can see some room for improvement in mine.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.” Donna pointedly added a little more sugar.
“Relax,” she grinned. “You're gorgeous enough to look at. The improvement you need is up here.” Mom tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail against her forehead. “Focus on your education.” Donna sighed. Was it really worth saving 2000.00 a month?
“I gotta go,” Donna said.  The Sentra was almost out of gas and she had to pick up Mo, whose stupid car was broke down again.  
“Here,” Dad tossed Donna an orange after tossing Mom a look Donna couldn't see. “Don't starve yourself.”
“And here,” Mom tossed her a key on a leather strap with an embossed, silver horse on it. 
Donna chuckled. “You're letting me take your new car today?”
“Donna honey,” she smiled broadly. “You can take it every day.”
“I don't understand,” Donna shook her head.
“September 22 is still a week away,” Dad grinned. “So, consider this an early birthday present from your mother.”
“And from your father,” Mom ruffled his hair.  He shot her a look and patted it back down. That was the thing about Mike and Caroline McCormick. Just when Donna thought her parents couldn't get any more annoying, they did something amazing. 
“I...I don't know what to say.”
“Say thank you and be on your way before you're late,” Mom shooed Donna toward the door. Donna leaped in her mom's arms, then her dad's, and jumped up and down like a kid.
“You guys are the best parents ever! Thank you so much.” 
Mom nudged her away. “You are very much welcome, dear. And I hope you remember to be extra thankful when you graduate with honors.” She blew Donna a kiss, and then turned back to her coffee. Donna left her mug on the counter, forgotten, and dashed to the garage...and her new car. She sat in the driver's seat, wrapped her hands around the chilly steering wheel and observed herself in the rear view mirror. The smell of old car made her smile and the sound of the engine made her tingle. The beige, leather seat snuggled her like an old friend. And the top went down. Donna smiled, backed out of the garage and toward the driveway, paying all kinds of attention to how she looked in the car and not enough to where she was going in it. So when a petite, strawberry-blonde teenage girl dashed out from behind the rear end of the Mustang, Donna gasped and pushed the brakes hard.
“Oh my God!” Donna shoved the car in park and whirled around to face the girl. “I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention.” 
The girl giggled and it reminded Donna of bubbles popping. “It's okay, I wasn't paying attention either.” She skipped up the driveway and stopped by the driver's side door. “I'm Samee Franklin.” She extended her hand. 
Samee…
Donna took it with her own, which still shook from almost running the bubbly girl over.
“Samee?” The color drained from Donna’s face.
“Uh-huh,” Samee bubbled.  
"H – hi Samee. Again, I'm sorry. It's no excuse, but I was thinking about too much stuff. My new car, my first day, my friend whose car broke down so she needs a ride to school, and then she'll need a ride to work, and then she will certainly need a ride when we go to The Dark Side tonight,” Donna rambled nervously.
Samee tilted her head. “The Dark Side?”
“It's a teen Goth club.”
“Ooooo,” her eyes lit up. “That sounds like fun!”
Donna noted Samee's age. Perfect for The Dark Side. “I guess it's fun enough,” she shrugged, “but I'm going to be twenty-one next week.”
“So why are you going to a teen club?”
“That's a good question,” Donna admitted. “I guess it's because I have a crazy best friend who thinks it'll be fun to reminisce one last time before I turn legal.” Samee giggled, Donna checked the time. 
“I don't mean to be rude Samee, but I'm running late and -”
“I understand. And I love your new car, Donna.” Samee skipped back down the driveway. 
“Thanks.” Donna watched until the path was clear and then backed on to the street. It wasn't until she was halfway to Mo's house that it occurred to her. She didn't remember telling Samee her name.

Donna's last college roommate, Rochelle Davis, had said that if boring had a middle name, then West Windington was it. So even though all Donna really wanted to do was drive slow and show off in her new car that morning, the pathetic truth was that nobody in her hometown would notice. A tornado could rip right through and people might look out their window and go, “Huh.” Or they might not bother to get even that excited. 
There was a rundown place at the end of town on a dead end road called Autumn Lane. The house really should have been condemned, but instead it was for sale. Mo insisted the ghosts in that house chase away potential buyers, because new people and old ghosts don't live well together. That pretty much explained the whole town of West Windington.
Donna parked her Mustang in the driveway of the house Mo shared with her mom.  She slid out from behind the steering wheel, beaming. Mo stood on the porch, holding a root beer can, glaring at the Mustang like it was a disease. Mo planned to get a degree in Journalism. She worked part time at “The West Windington Watering Hole,” the local town newspaper, the one Donna's dad read in print form. Donna thought Mo's job was just this side of glamorous because she got to make coffee for important people like the mayor and sometimes drive around town in a bright yellow Prius that had “WWWH” written on it, but Mo insisted there was nothing glamorous about being a glorified grunt for a corporate puppet-master. In fact, if somebody handed Mo a million dollars on a silver platter, she'd eyeball the stack for hidden agendas. That's why Mo would someday make a great reporter. She didn't have it in her to be content with the simple, the ordinary. 
Nobody knew whatever happened to Mo's dad, not even Mo's mom. But Mo hadn't moved back home because she couldn't make it on her own, like Donna had.  She'd stayed home because her mom couldn't make it on her own. When Jill's real estate business tanked, Mo hung around to help out so Jill wouldn't lose the house. 
“What is that thing doing in my yard?” she grumbled.
“My parents gave me this for my birthday.” Donna leaned against the hood. Mo's hair color that day was crimson, so when she shook her head, the spiky tips of her cropped hair shuddered like a basket full of bloody rattlesnake tails. Her fingernail color matched the hair, and so did the shirt with “Even the Devil Thinks I am too Hot to Handle” across it. That was one thing about Mo; she always matched, even if the shades made no sense to anybody but her. Mo swallowed about half the can of root beer. 
“You do know that car's a bribe, don't you?” 
Leave it to Mo not to sugar-coat it. “It's still a nice car,” Donna replied.
Mo rolled her eyes. “It would be a whole lot nicer if there wasn't a law degree guilt-grenade launched at it.” Mo belched, loud. It smelled like root beer. A couple of elementary kids at the bus stop turned and stared. So did a guy in a blue car parked across the street. Mo tilted her head back and laughed. That's when Donna noticed the new shiny red stud poking through her left nostril.
“When did you get your nose pierced?”
“Last night, on a whim.” She turned so Donna could get a better view. “We're spontaneous here in West Windington. See all the fun you miss by living in the big city?”
“I moved twelve miles away.”
She shrugged. “It might as well of been twelve million.”
Donna examined the nose stud. “It's not like you needed any more holes in your head.”
Mo rolled her coal-colored eyes. “It's not like you needed a new car when your old one is already better than mine.”
“When my Mustang needs an oil change I won't come crying to you. And when your nostril develops an infection and your nose falls off, you don't come crying to me.”
“And when your mom hassles you about law school -”
Donna shook her head and grinned. The friendly bickering between her and Mo was standard since childhood, and had even come to partially define their friendship. “Come on. I don't want to be late.” Donna pointed to the root beer can. “And leave that here, please.”
“Kill joy,” Mo wrinkled her nose, sucked down the remaining contents. She belched again, this time so loud it echoed off the front of her house. The kids at the bus stop turned to look again. The blue car zoomed away.
Chapter two

Donna and Mo's plans were to meet for lunch, and then Donna would drive Mo to work.  During Business Accounting 301, Donna doodled in the margin of her notebook and thought about her new car.  How fast would it go?  Did she look good in it?  After class, she found Mo leaning against the Mustang like James Dean with boobs, winking at passing guys. 
A blond one asked, “Is that your car?” 
Mo casually shrugged. 
“It's nice,” he said.
“Thanks,” she replied. Donna shook her head, unlocked the door. 
“Let's go, Mustang Sally.” She lowered the top despite Mo's protests that it would wreck her hair then drove to their favorite lunch spot, Barker's Burgers. A blue Toyota followed them into the parking lot. 
“Hey Mo, did you notice a blue car parked down the street when we were still at your house?” 
“I dunno,” Mo had the visor lowered and was applying generous amounts of lipstick that perfectly matched the Mustang's paint color. 
“The reason I ask is because there's a car behind us that I swear is the same car I saw by your house. And I don't know for sure, but it could even be the same one that followed us yesterday after you flipped off the driver.” With lipstick still in hand, Mo whirled around to look behind her.  The waxy mass of lip color barely missed smearing the Mustang's upholstery. 
“Where's the blue car?” 
Donna plucked the lipstick tube from her hand. “Right there,” she pointed. The Toyota was parked along a curb, its male occupant on the phone, not moving to exit. “I'm almost positive it's the same car that was by your house. But you know, it's a pretty common car and -”
Mo's mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed. “It can't be.”
“What can't be?” Donna found the lipstick's lid and replaced it.  She handed the tube to Mo, who absently shoved it in her oversized black bag with the silver peace sign on it. 
“Come on,” Mo whispered. “Let's get inside.” She bolted from the car and before Donna could ask what the rush was about, Mo was at the restaurant's entrance, rolling her eyes and motioning Donna to hurry up.
“Just let me put the top up,” Donna hollered. Mo impatiently scrunched her hair and tapped her toes while Donna locked up the car. 
Barker's Burgers smelled like grease and buzzed with lunch crowd chatter, everybody hurrying to get their food so they could hurry back to school or work. Mo found the line with the cutest cashier.  She hurried to stand in it and then coyly scanned the room.
“Damn it, Mo. What's going on?” 
“Shhhh!” Mo snapped. “I'll tell you when we sit down.”
Donna crossed her arms. “Why can't you tell me now?”
“I don't want to make a scene.” 
Donna looked her up and down. So did the high school girl wearing a plaid mini skirt in the line next to them. 
“If blending in is your objective,” Donna whispered, “then that hair color isn't going to cut it.”
Mo shrugged. “If it's good enough for your sexy car, then it's good enough for my sexy head.” Her gaze wandered toward the entrance door. Donna frowned and remained in annoyed silence until Mo paid for both meals and batted her eyelashes at the counter guy, who raised a pierced eyebrow back and smiled. 
“I'd like my burger very well done,” Donna said. The pierced eyebrow guy shrugged, walked away and came back a few minutes later with a bag and two drinks. 
“Thanks, darling.” Mo winked at him. 
Darling winked back. “You’re welcome.”
Mo grabbed the bag and dashed to the most secluded corner of Barker's Burgers.  Donna followed. 
“He didn't come in yet, did he?” Mo asked.
“Who?”
“The guy from the blue car, dummy.” Mo's voice dropped, which was unusual for Mo. 
Donna clenched her teeth. “Are you going to tell me what's going on?”
Mo rolled her eyes. “Geez you're impatient.” She stuffed her face full of fries and chomped them like a cow. “I was helping with this story at work. It's about...” she trailed off.
“What's the story about?”
“I'm not supposed to say,” she said.
Donna rubbed her temples. “If it has anything to do with somebody in a blue Toyota following around college girls in red Mustangs, you had better say.” 
Mo slurped from her soda straw and searched the room for eavesdroppers. High school students huddled in clumps, a frazzled-looking mom with four crying kids sighed in desperation. Nobody appeared to care a thing about Donna and Mo. “People have gone missing.”
“People?”
Mo poured ketchup on her fries. “Girls.”
“Little girls?”
“No, our age.” She put down the ketchup bottle, changed her mind, picked it back up and poured more on her fries.
Donna unconsciously put a finger to her mouth and started biting on the thumb nail.  “Missing from where? And since when? How come nothing's been on the news about it?”
“That's exactly it,” Mo belched just when a couple of cute guys from the college's football team passed by. Mo winked at them. They turned away and laughed. Mo rolled her eyes. “Nobody's heard about the missing girls, because nobody's admitting anything is even happening. It's really weird, Donna. Three girls have gone missing in the past week, from this very town, and not one word of the story has been mentioned in the paper or on the news.”
“Maybe because there is no story,” Donna said slowly. “Maybe they're part of a group that just took off.”
Mo's head shook vigorously. “It's not like that.”
“You have a way of seeing things that aren't there, Mo. Maybe -” Mo gasped and her eyes widened as she stared past Donna towards the door. “Oh no, there he is.” Mo sat facing the door, but Donna's back was to it, so she whirled around.  A tall, dark-haired man wearing a business suit and nervous expression walked through Barker Burger's entrance and stood in line behind a group of chattering high school cheerleaders. 
“He does look a little out of place,” Donna admitted. His hollow gaze met hers, then Mo's. His jaw clenched.  He turned and stormed back out the way he'd just come. Mo and Donna exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“Let's go,” Mo stood and pulled Donna up too, spilling almost half her fries on the floor. 
“Where are we going?” Donna scooped up what remained of her lunch, shuffled it in the bag, mouthed “Sorry” to the girl in the brown and orange Barker's Burger hat whose job appeared to be emptying trash cans and giving cold stares to sloppy customers. 
“We're going to follow him,” Mo’s said in an urgent tone.
“Are you crazy?  We are most certainly not going to follow him. We're going to call the cops.”
“Cops?”  Mo snorted.  “You of all people should know the cops are useless. Come on.” Mo tugged Donna's arm.  She pulled back. 
“Me of all people?”
“I’m sorry,” Mo said in a remorseful tone.  “What I mean is the stupid cops never even caught the driver of the car that hit your little brother.  Our city cops are useless.”
“That’s true enough,” Donna replied quietly.  “But I refuse to follow a suspicious man, and since I'm driving, I have the final say.” Mo opened her mouth to protest. “But,” Donna added, “We can get his license plate number for the police, such as they are.”
“Fine, whatever then. Let's go.” Mo dragged Donna through Barker's Burgers.  By the time they got outside, the blue Toyota was gone. “Damn!” Mo stomped her foot. “We could've gotten him.”
“Or, he could've gotten us.”
Mo sneered, making her nose stud twinkle in the sun. “Unlock this hunk of metal and let's go.” Donna unlocked her side and Mo tried to open the passenger door. It didn't budge. “Didn't you unlock it?”
“It's an old car. You have to unlock it by hand.”
“Well, what a dumb idea.” Mo put her hands on her hips and huffed.
Donna reached over and unlocked the passenger door.  Mo started chattering before her butt even hit the seat. “One of the missing girls worked in my mom's old real estate office. Madison Miller. I think you saw her that time we went in to drop off Mom's lunch. She was the receptionist. Is...the receptionist.”
“The tall blonde?”
“Uh-huh.  She's been missing since last Friday. Two others are missing, too. All three of them are about 5'7” and blonde.” Mo surveyed Donna. “It appears to be the kidnapper’s type.” She reached for her burger.
“Not in my car,” Donna pointed to the bag. 
“Kill joy.” 
“Stop calling me that. Anyway, if what you're saying is true about missing girls,” Donna held up a hand in response to Mo's disapproving glare, “and I'm sure it is, then why aren't the police doing anything about it?”
Mo's face darkened - a cloud over the sun. “The cops aren't taking the disappearances seriously. And my boss isn't letting anybody write about it. In fact, his exact words were, 'Let's not panic the public, it's not ethical journalism.'” Mo clenched her teeth. “He said that right after the mayor left his office on the day the first girl went missing. Our new mayor is a piece of work and I'd not be one bit surprised to find out he has something to do with this.”
“Mayor St. James?” Donna scoffed. 
“Don't be fooled by people with political inclinations,” Mo warned. “There's something not right about that guy, and by not right, I don't just mean his politics. Did you know he didn't even come to town until right before the mayoral race, and then he showed up out of nowhere and got elected?” Mo's eyes narrowed. “With very little campaigning and zero fund-raising, I might add. This is America, damn it, and that kind of thing just can't happen here.” Mo goaded Donna to hurry through a yellow light and then continued. “The mysterious Michael St. James has been our mayor for exactly a month, and now there are missing girls and a police force that refuses to do anything about it. Our staff at the newspaper was ready to break with the story one minute, and then the next, Mayor St. James succeeded in shutting it down.” Mo's fiery head shook. “I don't trust that guy.”
“I fit the profile of those missing girls.” 
Mo nodded emphatically. “That's why I'm telling you, even though my boss threatened termination if any of us said anything to anybody.”
“Termination?” A chill went down Donna's spine.
“See, that's what I mean. This whole thing is just weird.” Mo waved at an older woman with a yellow sweater and black hair, who pushed a shopping cart full of cans. She waved back. “One of my regulars,” Mo explained. Mo volunteered one day a week at the local soup kitchen. 
“Do you have hard evidence that they were actually kidnapped?”
Mo looked at Donna as if she had just asked for hard evidence of gravity. “Three missing girls in a week. What more evidence do you need?”
“Okay,” Donna felt cold even though it was warm outside. “Why do you think they've been taken? Where were they taken from? What were they wearing? What were they doing when they went missing?” If there was a pattern, maybe she could do something to not be part of it.
“I have no idea. The cops aren't releasing information. The only way we know about it is because every time there's a 911 call our lead reporter, Liz, gets sent out.”
“She's not tall and blonde, is she?”
Mo shook her head. “Well, she's blonde, but it's not natural. The kidnapper seems to prefer natural blondes.”
“That's...nice to know.” Donna parked the Mustang outside The Waterhole's front entrance. “I wonder how I'd look as a brunette.” 
Mo's nose scrunched. “Like somebody took a shit on your head.” Then she chuckled and got out. “Thanks for the ride.” She pointed to Donna's hands. “By the way, what happened to you?” Donna looked down. A solid bruise had formed around each of her wrists.
“I don't know,” she frowned, vaguely recalling a dream from last night...
Can a person actually pull injuries out of a nightmare and onto their flesh?    
She was about to ask Mo, but Mo slammed the Mustang’s door and bounded to The Waterhole's door, chomping the rest of her lunch.
“Remember,” she hollered back. “Tonight, The Dark Side. Pick me up at eight.”
Donna nodded ruefully. She would just as soon stay home and eat popcorn in front of the TV, like a normal person. The Dark Side was full of strange people and all the strangeness they dragged to the club with them. Donna hated it.  But Mo craved that kind of excitement like a mouse craves cheese on a trap.
Chapter three


Donna was a half hour late picking up Mo, and Mo insisted Donna was purposely dragging her ass because she didn't really want to go to The Dark Side at all. Donna decided Mo was probably right about that, but she didn't admit it out loud to Mo. 
The Dark Side was so busy that Donna had to park her Mustang several blocks away.
“Oh no,” she moaned. 
Mo clapped her hands. “Ooooooooh yes!” 
“This is terrible. What if somebody messes with my car?”
“Stop being such a boring old lady,” Mo scrunched her hair and made a pouty face.
Donna bit on her pinkie nail. “Look at all these cars. There must be a million people in that stupid club. Do we really want to deal with all of them?”
“Of course we do, and only you would even question it.” Mo flipped down the visor mirror and made smooching faces at herself. “Donna, you're too uptight for your own damned good. I've been telling you for years that you need to live closer to the edge. Now here you are on the verge of twenty-one, with a new car and an entire club full of guys, some of which might even be your age. I say, it's now or never.”
The thought of checking a guy's ID before asking his name made Donna feel queasy, but Mo was right. She needed to at least meet some guys. All through high school she'd had only one boyfriend, if you could call Justin that. They went to the movies a few times and he once took off her bra in his Dodge truck. Then last year Rochelle had introduced Donna to Matt, and he'd liked her just fine until she'd made him stop after their clothes were off.  After that, he’d called her “Virgin Donna” and left in a huff. It was embarrassing to think she'd get in a bar before she'd ever get in bed with a guy, but that's certainly how it was turning out. Mo claimed no college girl had any right to be a virgin on her graduation day, and Donna knew she was right, but still…
I was watching boys instead of taking care of my brother.  
Mo said one had nothing to do with the other, and that certainly by now, almost a decade later, the universe wouldn’t still be punishing Donna for paying too much attention to the opposite sex.  But Mo had been an only child her whole life.  How could she ever understand?
A familiar blue Toyota slowly passed behind the Mustang. 
“Mo!” Donna hollered.
“Geez, don't yell,” Mo yelled. “You damn near made me poke myself in the eye with my mascara brush.”
“Sorry, but it's that blue car again. It just drove by.  Slow.” Mo hopped out of the Mustang and scanned the street. 
“All I see is a goldish truck and a yellow PT Cruiser. Oooo, and a guy on a motorcycle that just went that way.”  She pointed toward the sound of a motorcycle engine. “No blue car. You must be seeing things.”
“Why is it that when you see things I'm supposed to believe you but when I see things, you scoff it off?”
“I'm not scoffing it off,” Mo shrugged. “I just didn't see a blue car.”
“So that automatically means I didn't, either.”
“You don't have to get huffy about it,” Mo snapped. “It's just getting too dark to see.” She sat back down, squinted at the mirror. “Does my face look all right?” 
Donna smiled. “You look great.”
Mo grinned. “You look great, too. Well,” she reached deep inside the peace sign bag and shuffled around until she found a brush.  She fluffed and sprayed Donna’s hair and said "Now you look great, too.”  Donna coughed at the hair spray smell. Mo grinned then bolted from the Mustang, slamming the door shut behind her. They were only steps away from the car when Rochelle skipped up, calling Donna's name and squealing with delight.
“Oh great,” Mo rolled her eyes. “Your old roommate. Isn't she too old for this place?”
Donna crossed her arms and glowered at Mo. “Aren't we?”
Rochelle looked gorgeous, even for Rochelle. Her hair, blonder than Donna's by about 12 shades, was coiled in a French twist.  She wore a gold sequined dress that would light up the darkest room and a smile that was framed in by sparkling, ruby lips. Icing on the cake. 
“I never expected to see you here tonight,” she exclaimed. “How are you doing? How's life back at home? Did you find a job yet?” She gave Donna a wide hug that smelled like the same perfume her mother had been wearing that morning.
Mo glowered at Rochelle. “Damn, where are my sunglasses? That outfit is bright.”
Rochelle smirked. “As opposed to the one you're wearing?”
“I'm a bold statement.”
“You're a walking billboard for tacky.” Rochelle looked at Mo with contempt.  Then she noticed the Mustang.
“New car, huh? When are you going to take me for a ride?”
Mo snickered. “I was under the impression that you gave rides, not took them.”
“And word around campus is you couldn't give a ride if the words 'free taxi' were sprawled across your butt cheeks,” Rochelle snapped back.
Donna cleared her throat. “How are we going to even get in that stupid club? I saw the line when we drove past. It's halfway around the block.”
“Leave that to me,” Rochelle winked. “I know the bouncer.”
“I'm sure you do,” Mo mumbled. Donna nudged her.
“Just follow me.” Rochelle sauntered around parked cars then through the crowd, her dress shimmering like a golden Christmas tree. Mo and Donna followed, Donna trying not to attract attention.
We’re just a couple of ugly ducklings behind a fabulous swan. 
At the front door, Rochelle whispered something in the bouncer's ear. He gave Rochelle a gap-toothed smile and let the three of them through.
“That was easy,” Donna said.
“Easy as Rochelle,” Mo sneered. Donna jabbed her in the ribs. 
“Well,” Rochelle smiled at Donna and curled her lip at Mo. “You guys have fun.” She turned away and faded in with the mass of people on the dance floor. 
“At least her reputation was good for getting us in here,” Mo yelled.
Donna rubbed her ear. “You don't have to yell. Your voice carries for miles.” Mo must have not heard that because her next comment was just as loud. 
“I see somebody from work I need to talk with.”
Donna waved her off. “You know me, I'll find a seat in the back.” 
Mo rolled her eyes. “Fine. I'll find you no matter where you hide. And Donna?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
“Why do you say that?” 
But Mo had already filtered in with the crowd, and because so many of the people in it had weird hair too, she filtered in well. Donna wandered to the bleak, back area where she liked to sit. It was generally known as the “make-out corner”, though it wasn't that way for her.  It was nice and quiet, which explained why Mo preferred to avoid it. Donna found a table in the darkest corner and within seconds, a chill wrapped around her.  
Somebody’s watching me.  
Donna scanned the shadows. Nobody was paying the least attention to her, except for a young couple who'd come in right after her.  She'd apparently taken their make-out spot.
“Sorry,” Donna shrugged.
The girl made a snarly face and then the couple left, but the feeling of somebody watching didn't go with them. 
It feels like eyes are boring into the back of my head.
She shuddered and turned around. 
Nobody’s there. 
A minute passed, and then a skinny waitress, wearing black and red striped leggings and looking just like a Gothic fairy, trotted up to Donna and smiled.
“What ya havin'?” she asked between bubble-gum chomps.
“Just an iced tea.”
“Okay.” She rolled her eyes and tried to skip away but Donna stopped her.
“I know this sounds weird,” Donna said, “but can you tell me if somebody's watching me from behind?” The waitress popped a bubble. Her eyes widened and her gaze darted above Donna's head. She frowned. 
“Nope, nobody but a brick wall is back there is watchin' ya. But the guy over there,” she tilted her head to the left, “seems to not be able to keep his eyes off ya. He's been lookin' at ya since ya sat down.” She chomped cheerfully. “Do ya wanna buy him a drink?” Donna surveyed the dark corners and only saw a blonde girl in pink pants making out with a tall, blue-haired guy. 
“I don't see a guy looking at me.”
The gum-chomping waitress turned, her black hair shimmering purple against the black lights. “He's right - well, sonofabitch, he's gone.” She placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes again. “Too bad, he was barely contained - like lightnin' in a jar.”
“What did he look like?”
“Like a Greek god who ditched his chariot, grabbed a crotch rocket and crash-landed his sexy ass in a 21st century Goth club.” She snapped her red bra strap and chomped her gum some more. “Seriously, he was somethin’. Tall, dark, and handsome. If ya like that type, which I obviously do. How 'bout ya?” She stared pointedly at Donna with big, dark eyes. “Maybe tall, dark, and handsome Greek gods aren't yer type. Okay, then, are ya into blonds?” Her eyes opened wide. “Or maybe yer not into guys at all. Then ya might like my cousin, Amie.”
Donna smiled politely. “I'll just take the iced tea, thanks.”
The waitress shrugged. “Whatever blows yer skirt up.” Then she trotted off.
The blue-haired guy and his date filtered back toward the dance floor.  Once they left, a heavy cloud descended on Donna from behind. Her heart thundered.  She jumped from the chair and took a step forward. Before she could take another, a tall, dark shadow approached from the front and blocked her path. The skinny waitress had been right. His jaw line was chiseled just like the statue of every Greek god Donna had ever seen. In addition to that, his pale skin was offset by ebony hair and eyes to match. There was a scent surrounding him, too. Spice? Everything about him was lonesome and brooding, just like everybody else in The Dark Side. But even so, he seemed out of place. Probably because he looked old enough to buy a real drink, but here he was anyway. 
“Go home.”  He broke the silence like lightning.
What succulent lips…
 Donna bit her fingernails to keep from clamping her face to his, which, for some reason, she had the inexplicable desire to do. 
“Did you hear me?” His eyes were black diamonds and familiar. “Are you listening to me?” His nostrils flared. 
What perfect nostrils...
“I'm quickly losing what little patience I was born with.”
“You were born with more patience than manners,” Donna finally said.
He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I don't care much for your sarcasm.”
“I don't care much for your arrogance.” She chewed harder on her fingernails.
“My arrogance could be the only reason you're not dead right now.”
“Well, that's an arrogant thing to say.”
“It's a true one, too. Go home.” He stepped away and melted into the shadows.  His piercing black eyes were the last thing about him to disappear. 
Donna yelled at the darkness. “I'll go home if you'll stop having that guy follow us.” 
He whispered in her ear, from behind. “Who's following you?”
Donna whirled around. “How in the hell did you get behind me?”
His breath touched her shoulder.  It made her tingle. “Tell me who's following you.”
“Your creepy friend in the blue car.”
He exhaled sharply.  “I don't have any friends like that.”
“With your attitude, I'm surprised you have any friends at all.”
He snarled, and looked utterly gorgeous doing it. “I said go home. Do it now.” He evaporated into the darkness again.  Perspiration trickled down the back of Donna’s neck.  She hurried toward the dance floor, scanning the room for Mo.  She found her tucked in a humid corner at a tiny table, talking with an attractive, brown-haired guy. Donna stepped up and stood there, but neither of them noticed her until she drummed her fingers on the table. 
“Oh, hi Donna,” Mo smiled casually.
“Yes, it's me,” Donna shouted through the music noise. “Your friend, who you said you'd find no matter where I hid, but instead, I see you've decided not to bother even looking.”
“Sorry,” Mo shrugged, but she looked a little guilty doing it. “I got sidetracked.” She indicated toward the guy. “This is James.”
“Hi Donna,” James yelled.
“Hello,” Donna yelled back.
Mo smiled at James. “I'll call you tomorrow.”
James got up. “Okay then.” He looked at Donna again, this time with caution. “And it was nice to meet you.” He strolled away, looking behind him twice to wave at Mo, who grinned and waved back.
Once he was out of view, Donna cleared her throat. 
“I'm officially pissed,” she said.
“What the hell for?” Mo frowned and it made her forehead pucker.
“First, we come to this stupid club that you know I hate, and you immediately ditch me. Second, I've been bored and alone in the corner while you've been over here chatting away with a cute guy. Third, I was just verbally assaulted by some stalker guy. And fourth -”
Mo's eyes went wide. “Oh no, Donna! Are you okay?”
“Of course I'm okay. He was just an asshole.” With succulent lips and the body of a god...
Mo bit her bottom lip. “You should sit down.”
Donna clenched her jaw. “Why does everybody here keep telling me what to do?” 
“I think you'll want to sit down for this. Really, Donna.” Mo indicated toward the chair. “Please.”
“Fine,” she landed hard in the seat, which was still warm from James. Mo waved to the gum-chomping waitress, who trotted to their table.
“Oh, there ya are!” The waitress smiled at Donna. “I took yer drink back to the bar when I couldn't find ya.” She motioned toward Mo. “Found one, huh? Good for ya!” She winked then took Mo's order and left.
Mo pointed at the waitress and threw Donna puzzled look. “What was that about?”
Donna shrugged. “She thinks you and I are a couple.”
“Ew,” Mo squished up her nose.
“Thanks. I find you repulsive, too. Now, tell me what I sat down for or I'll get back up and go away.”
“I'm warning you, Donna. You aren't going to like this.”
“I already don't like it.” She crossed her arms.
“Remember the missing girls?”
Donna slumped in her seat. “So we're back to that again?”
“Just listen. It turns out they've all gone missing from this club. James just told me another girl has gone missing. That's why I wanted to come here tonight. I thought we could nose around, talk to a few people, see if anybody knows anything.”
“Are you telling me that you knew tall blondes were being taken from here?” Donna's throat felt tight. 
Mo nodded. “I need you to tell me everything that guy said to you. He might be the one.”
“The one?”
Mo rolled her eyes. “The kidnapper, Donna. Get up to speed here.”
“You knowingly left me alone to be kidnapped?” Donna's face burned. “Of all the stupid things-”
Mo groaned. “I figured you'd react like this.”
“How else would you expect me to react?” 
The spunky little waitress pranced back to their table. “Uh-oh,” she said in a lilting tone. “It looks like I walked in on a lover's quarrel.” She rolled her eyes and then tossed napkins and drinks on the table like they were pixie dust and magic potions. Then she stood there beaming, with her hand extended. Mo frowned, paid, and rolled her eyes as the waitress flounced away.
“That's one annoying waitress,” she said.
“That's an ironic thing for you to say,” Donna grinned despite her mood.
“What is?” Mo sipped her soda and complained that it would be better with rum. 
“Never mind.  What exactly are the police doing about these kidnappings?”
“The police have been doing exactly nothing. I told you that. Weren't you listening?”
“So, I've just been engaged in an unfriendly chat with the most probable suspect,” Donna's tone hinted at her irritation. “And he likes my type. But he apparently does not like me because instead of kidnapping me, he warned me. For once, being utterly undesirable has a plus side.”
“Well, there you go.” Mo burped. “Not that you're undesirable, but you do walk around with a don't-approach-me attitude.”
Donna didn't really hear her, because another thought had come to her. “If he likes tall blondes, he's going to love Rochelle.”
“He takes them when they're alone, such as in dark corners with nobody fawning over them. Have you ever seen little Miss Center-Of-Attention in that condition?”
“No,” Donna admitted. “Still, we should tell her about this.”
“No we shouldn't.” Mo slurped the rest of her soda, scooping the straw against the bottom. She picked up the empty glass, examined the ice cubes and snorted. “I cannot believe that little twit charged me $4.95 plus tax for four ounces of soda and twelve ounces of frozen water.” She turned to Donna. “I shouldn't have even told you about the missing blondes, but I'm confident you can keep a secret.”
“Why would anybody want this story to be a secret? If blonde girls are going missing, then the public needs to know.”
“The last person who tried to make it public was Lance Barrington.” Mo burped.
“Who's Lance Barrington?”
Mo’s eyes rolled. “The deputy sheriff. You really should pay more attention to your local government, Donna. Anyhow, Lance was going to make an announcement in our newspaper, but now he's disappeared. His wife said he never came home from work the other night.”
“So it's not just blonde females going missing.” 
Mo shrugged. “Well, it mostly is.”
Blood drained from Donna's face when she considered it. “What is the kidnapper doing with his victims?”
“Who knows,” Mo shook her empty glass at the Gothic-fairy waitress who trotted right past without looking in their direction. “That twit's not getting a tip. Anyway, there are no ransom notes, no clues, nothing. Just disappearing blondes that the cops do nothing about.” On the dance floor, people twirled, laughed, and kissed. Some of them were blonde girls. 
Donna looked hard at Mo. “Why didn't you tell me about the kidnapper being here?”
“If I would've told you, would you have come tonight?”
“Of course not.”
“And there you go.” Mo tossed her hands in the air. “I'm not a tall blonde. How could I flush out the kidnapper without you?”
Donna's temples throbbed.  She wanted to be home enjoying a relaxing evening, in which the   most intriguing aspect would be a burned-out light bulb. Instead, here she was discussing mysterious kidnappers who hid in dark corners. 
“I figured if I brought you here,” Mo coughed when an ice chunk went down the wrong pipe, “you being the way you are, maybe, we could flush him out.”
“Flush him out?”
“Well, you know. You are his type, and you do like to sit all alone.”
“You were using me as bait?” Donna pushed back the chair and got up. “That's the reason you wanted to come here tonight? I can't believe you would do something so idiotic, Melissa Marie Bently.”
Mo cringed at the use of her full name.  She grabbed Donna's wrist, making Donna wince.  Mo didn't notice. “Please, just let me explain. I figured you'd go find a quiet place to hide from everybody.  That's how you are, you know that. You avoid people like the plague-”
“This explanation is supposed to make me feel better?”
“I thought that maybe the kidnapper would approach you and we'd catch him, and then you'd be a hero.” Mo grinned wide.
“Or a missing blonde. Tell me something, Mo. Exactly how were you planning to keep the kidnapper here while you waited for the police?” The look on Mo's face told Donna Mo hadn't thought about that part of it.
“I promise,” she stammered. “You were never going to get hurt.”
“A little late for promises, don't you think?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mo said defensively.
“It means that when I found you, it looked like you couldn't have cared less about anything except whatever that guy was saying. I could've been kidnapped and you wouldn't even have noticed until you needed a ride home and I was nowhere to be found.”
Mo had only cried once in all the time Donna had known her.  That was when she was eight years old and had jumped her bike off the roof of her house, with the intention of landing in the neighbor's swimming pool.  Instead, she'd landed in the shrubs by the neighbor's dog kennel. Twelve stitches and a fractured ankle later, Mo finally cried when Jill took her bike away. But this was even bigger than plunging a bicycle off the roof, and Mo knew it. Her eyes watered over, and then the tearful cascade began.
“I'm sorry.” She said it so quietly that Donna wondered if she'd misheard her. “All I wanted was to get the big story.  Then maybe I would've made a name for myself - maybe gotten a job offer somewhere away from this stupid town. I never meant for you to get hurt.” She muttered something about her behavior being irresponsible and Donna couldn't argue with that, but she also couldn't stand to see her best friend cry. She placed a hand on Mo's forearm.
“You may have done some stupid things in your life, but you've always been a friend to me and I know you weren't trying to get me hurt.  You just weren't thinking.” Donna paused then added, “I forgive you.”
Mo sniffed, brushed away tears. “I really am so sorry.”
“I know you are.”
“Thanks for understanding, Donna.”
“What I understand is that you often fail to consider long-range consequences.”
“I know. I'm working on it.” Mo sniffed.  
“I know you are,” Donna encouraged.
Mo’s tone lifted. “Now do you want to know what Jamie and I were discussing?”
“Jamie?”
Mo's eyes rolled. “The guy I was talking to.” 
“You mean James?” 
Mo nodded impatiently. Yes, James. Now listen. He agreed to meet me here tomorrow night.” Mo looked fiercely at Donna. “I don't suppose you'd like to help us?”
“Help you how?” But the minute she said it, she knew. Donna shook her head feverishly. “Oh no you don't.”
“Donna, just hear me out.”
“No, you hear me out.” Donna's voice trembled. “What happened to not wanting to see me get hurt?”
“I promise this time we'll be better prepared. I won't take my eyes off you for even a second. I promise nothing will happen to you.” Mo stopped speaking.  Donna's head filled with the sounds of thudding bass from the dance floor, and she knew what was coming next. “Donna Anne McCormick. Don't you want to see this guy get caught?”
“No fair bringing my middle name in to this.”
“You did it first.” 
“Only because you're wrong.”
“I'm wrong? Oh, really?” Mo's eyes grew extra wide like they always did when she thought she was right. “May I ask what's so wrong about trying to catch a guy who's stealing innocent blondes?”
“If you want to pretend you're a crime-stopping, TV drama, investigative-journalist, that's fine by me, but I'm not going to become the victim of some deranged kidnapper who even the cops refuse to come out and play with.” Donna turned to leave.  Mo grabbed her wrist again.
“Please, just think about it,” she implored. 
Donna shook her off, painfully. “Let the police handle it. It's their job.”
“They're a pack of idiots.” Mo caught her breath, looked pleadingly at Donna. “I need you. Our town needs you.”
Donna turned away. She didn't want any part of this. She just wanted everything to go back to normal.  Exactly how it was before girls got kidnapped and best friends decided to hunt down the perpetrator. Her gaze panned the back room. The Greek god was nowhere in sight. Had he already left? Or was he watching her from another part of the club? Donna carefully eyed every available space for a tall, dark, handsome, mysterious man. 
I know he’s still in here…I can feel it.
She whirled back around and stared at Mo whose hopeful eyes were wide and focused. 
“I'll do it,” Donna said.
“You will?” Mo leaped up and clapped her hands.
“I will.” Donna felt as surprised as Mo looked, but the fact was, Donna wanted to prove to herself that the mysterious guy with the good looks and bad attitude wasn't attracted to her. It seemed a stupid thing to do, but Mo had said it best just a little while ago. “It's now or never.” 
Well, there you go.
Mo grinned. “I'll come up with a brilliant plan, you just wait and see.” 
“Great.” Donna tapped her fingers on the table to keep from sticking them in her mouth. “But just for the record, I don't think he's the kidnapper.”
“Who?”
“The...” Donna searched for the right word to describe him. “The rude guy.”
Mo belched. “Maybe the rude guy just isn't in a kidnapping mood tonight.”
“Or maybe he just isn't in a mood to kidnap me.”
“Cheer up, best friend,” Mo flashed her perfect teeth. “He might be in a better mood tomorrow night.”
Donna put on a sarcastic smile. “Wonderful. I want to go home now.”
Mo's features practically melted. “We barely got here.”
“I've hated it here ever since high school.”
“You never told me that.”
Donna scoffed. “I tell you that every time we come here.”
“If you say so.” Mo shrugged. Then she gestured excitedly. “Just think of the headlines, Donna.  'College Cuties Outwit Cops and Criminals.'”
“Or how about this one?  'Dumb Blonde's Body Found after Agreeing to Best Friend's Preposterous Plan.'”
Mo planted her hands on her hips and glared impatiently at her friend. “This is why I'm going to be a high-paid journalist and you aren't. Your headlines suck.” 
chapter four


Donna dropped Mo off at home.  Then she did something she hadn’t done since the day little Sammy died.  She drove to the West Windington police station and went inside to talk with an officer.  The last time she’d been in that building talking with an officer, Donna had been asked to explain what happened, how it happened, and then, thanks to that awful policeman, Officer Murray, Donna also had to explain why it happened.  
I just turned away for a minute.  There was this kid from school and I thought he liked me…
But now it was nine years later and Donna crossed the threshold of the West Windington Police Department with the intention of finding out about missing blonde girls. What she found instead was a highly uncooperative reception officer behind the desk.
“We don't have the resources to chase after every baseless rumor that lands on our desk,” the receptionist sneered when Donna asked about the missing girls. “And shame on you for wasting our time with another one.” Her eyes looked eerie, almost colorless, and her tone sounded flat. Donna felt the impulse to turn and run, but she swallowed hard and faced the reception officer with another question.
“Aren't the police supposed to treat every concern as if it's real?”
The receptionist tilted her head, but didn't answer the question.  If Donna didn't know better, she'd think the receptionist might not even care if blonde girls were missing. Donna was starting to see why Mo had it in her head that the cops were being useless about this entire mess. She apologized for the trouble, backed away from the desk and stepped outside.  The air was chilly, so she hurried toward her car.
“Nice night, isn't it?” A voice from the parking lot startled Donna. She peered through the sea of vehicles until her gaze landed on a man standing a few rows away. The shadows hid his face, but Donna could tell he was tall with dark hair, and that he wore a jacket and tie. She stopped in her tracks, poised her key, and readied it for use as a weapon. The fact that she was in a police station parking lot did nothing to soothe her, especially after the incident with that terrible reception officer.
The man scoffed. “Don't be afraid of me, Donna. I won't hurt you.”
Donna clenched the key tighter. 
How does he know my name? 
“Do be afraid of your nightmares, though. You never know when one might leave your head and come to life. Then there goes your nice, stable little world.” He chuckled as he lowered himself in a vehicle.  Seconds later, an engine churned. Then the familiar blue Toyota Camry backed out and zipped toward the parking lot exit. Donna gasped.  She hurried to her car, quickly got in and locked the doors. After catching her breath, she turned the key to start the Mustang's engine. A sound caught her attention, like something smashing, but Donna ignored it and headed quickly toward the parking lot exit.  
“Oh my God!”  She screamed and slammed on the brakes.
The wreck had happened directly under a parking lot light, so everything was illuminated by its halo.  The blue Toyota was crushed like an accordion between the parking lot’s stop sign and an old, beat up, black Bronco. The man who had been driving the Toyota stood outside his car, pressed against the door frame.  A strikingly large, fearsome-looking man loomed above him. He held the biggest gun Donna had ever seen and it was thrust against the chest of the Toyota man.  A cigarette hung loosely from the gunman’s lips and when he looked over at Donna, his eyes glowed red in the tip of its light.
“Nice car, human,” he growled. Then without looking away from her, he pulled the trigger and gunfire split open the air. Donna screamed again, covered her ears, and ducked.  A heavy engine grumbled to life, vibrating the windows of the Mustang. The engine revved, backfired and then accelerated. Wheels squealed.  The vehicle accelerated again then pulled away. Donna kept her head lowered, sobbing, waiting to be the next victim. After several moments passed and she was still mercifully alive, Donna slowly brought up her head and looked out the windshield.  She rubbed her teary eyes. Against the Toyota's headlight glow, radiator steam hissed and ascended like a ghost on its way to the heavens. The beat up Bronco was gone and so was the shooter. The Toyota man lay next to his car, motionless and in a pool of blood. 
“Oh my God…Oh my God…”  That stupid reception woman would have to believe her now.  Donna unclasped the seat belt and bolted from the Mustang, which was still running, and burst through the police department entryway. 
“Help! A man's just been shot!” She hurried to the reception desk, breathless and sobbing. “Please, there's been a shooting.”
The reception officer rolled her cow eyes toward Donna. “Listen, little lady -”
“No,” Donna shrieked. “You listen to me. A man's been shot!” 
“And where is this so-called man who's been shot?” The receptionist laid aside her Sudoku puzzle and clasped her hands.
“Right outside.” Donna gulped. “He's dead.  At least he looks dead.”
The reception officer sighed and then pushed the intercom button. 
“Can I get an officer up front, please?” she said in a flat tone.  “A young woman claims to have witnessed a shooting.”  Then she sat back in her chair, crossed her arms and glowered. Donna tried to steady her hands enough to bite her fingernails. She hated how the officer's chair squeaked when she rocked in it, and how she watched Donna with those eerie, beady eyes. When the side door buzzed and a different officer finally plodded in the room, Donna frantically ran to him and recounted the story. He stood there, silent, looming like a blond bear in a cop costume. His name tag read, “Officer Behr” and he listened closely to Donna.  When she was done, he exchanged glances with the reception officer.
“Please,” Donna pleaded. “It happened right outside.”
Officer Behr squinted at Donna. Something about his eyes made her nervous.  Maybe because they were just like the reception officer’s. 
“Take me to the scene,” he said.
Donna hurried out front and Officer Behr lumbered behind. 
“There,” she pointed. “He's right -” Donna's mouth gaped. The body had vanished, along with its blood pool. The blue Toyota was gone, too. Donna turned and faced the officer who was just sauntering up behind her. “You have to believe me. He was there. I swear it!” 
“Pranks are against the law, young lady.” Officer Behr glowered then turned away and headed back toward the building.
“Please, officer. If you don't believe me, watch your surveillance footage. A man was just murdered, right here in your own police station parking lot.”
“Do you want me to cite you for filing a false report?”
“I haven’t filed anything, yet.” Donna pleaded.  “Nobody here will let me.  Officer, how will it look if you do nothing about this now and then tomorrow the news gets the story?”
Officer Behr stopped, turned and tromped back to Donna.  Indeed, his eyes reflected the same vapid look as the reception officer's. 
“The story won't look like anything if there's nobody to tell it,” he snapped.
Donna shook her head slowly. “I don't understand...”
He pulled his gun and pointed it at her chest. “Now do you understand?” The barrel's metal glinted against the parking lot lights.  Donna's throat tightened.
“Please, officer. I won't say anything to anybody.”
He snickered. “That and a million dollars still won't buy you out of this mess, little lady.”
“But this will.” A dark voice came from behind the officer, followed by a click. The flat stare in Officer Behr's eyes snapped to cold fear. “It's not her turn to die,” the voice growled. “But my contract doesn't say anything about how many asshole minions I can kill tonight.”
The officer sharply inhaled, re-holstered his firearm, and scurried to the police station without looking back. That left Donna alone, facing the menacing man who had just shot the guy in the blue Toyota. His steel-colored eyes locked on to hers like a couple of gun barrels honing in on their target.
“Please don't kill me,” Donna's eyes stung as tears filled them.
He lit a cigarette, inhaled. The cherry glowed against his eyes, just like before.
“What did I just say, stupid human? It's not your turn to die.” He peered at Donna through narrowed eyes. “When it is, maybe I'll get the lucky contract and come back for you.” He winked and disappeared into the night. Donna's legs buckled.  She fell to the ground, sobbing. A police vehicle rolled in the lot, the driver stopping when the car's headlights revealed a crying blonde in a heap by the curb. Two officers exited the vehicle and approached her.
“Maybe you need to come in the station with us,” the female said. Her name tag read, “Officer Johnstone” and her tone was flat.
Donna brushed away tears. “No. I need to get home.”
“Perhaps that’s not a good idea.  Come inside.”  
Her male partner, whose name tag read “Officer Taylor”, took Donna by the elbow and pulled Donna to her feet.  Donna pulled back, but his grip tightened. 
“Please, no.  I want to go home.”
“Don't argue, girl.” Officer Taylor grit his teeth, pulled harder. 
“No,” Donna whined. 
“Yes,” the officer hissed, and pulled her towards the station.
A now-familiar voice penetrated the darkness. 
“She said no,” the gunman growled.
Officer Taylor released Donna's elbow and Officer Johnstone smiled at her.
“On second thought,” she offered her hand, “you should go home.” Donna didn't take the hand. She stood on shaky legs, hurried to her car and shut the door.
“Remember your seat belt!” he directed.  
“And drive safely, Donna,” she instructed. They watched and waved while Donna drove from the parking lot. She wondered why the cops in West Windington had suddenly turned bad. She also wondered why a shooter had mowed down that Toyota man one moment, and saved her from bad cops in the next. She wondered why the more she craved ordinariness, the more elusive it got. But one thing Donna didn't wonder: how the female officer knew her name. Somehow, it seemed inconsequential. 

Donna arrived home to an empty house. She locked up everything tight, double checked the windows, and set the alarm system. Then she went to bed.  
Too bad all that locking up couldn't keep out nightmares.

“Donna,” he beckoned.
She turned to face him, but only saw darkness. 
“What do you want with me?” she hollered.
“I want to play with you. Come out, come out, wherever you are.” A chilly laugh was followed by an icy hand on her shoulder. His grip was tight, like that cop's.
“Let go of me.” 
“You and your friend have devised a sinister plan to ensnare me.”  His breath reeked of rotting flesh and his cold hand stroked her cheek.
“How do you know about that?”
“I know everything about you.” His chilly laugh shook the air. “A bit of advice. If you want your normal life back, do not trust the red haired one.” 
“Mo? Why wouldn't I trust Mo?” 
But he was gone.

chapter five


Donna woke up in a cold sweat and with a strong need to shield her eyes from the morning sun. But things seemed to make more sense in the light of day. The shooting, the awful police officers, that gorgeous, surly guy.  They’d all been part of a nightmare – a very vivid nightmare. 
Donna nestled herself in that explanation then relaxed into her favorite hobby, drawing.  She drew a man with a gun and glowing eyes, blood on the pavement, a brooding, sultry man with broad shoulders and a wicked smile. She balled up the paper and tossed it in the trash. 
So much for relaxing.
The kitchen was empty.  Donna's parents obviously got home after Donna had gone to bed and left for work before she got up. Maybe that was the way it would be now. They would all just be roommates. 
So much for things going back to normal. 
Not that it mattered.  She wasn’t a kid anymore and didn’t need to be treated like one.  
Donna showered, ate breakfast then drove to campus where Rochelle found her in the parking lot. She examined Donna's Mustang and snorted contemptuously.  
“You could hardly wait to take a ride in it last night,” Donna said.  “And today you hate it.  What’s that all about, Rochelle?”  
“I don’t hate it.  I just wonder how you can afford a car like that when you don't even have a job.”
“Well-”
“Oh wait,” Rochelle snickered. “You're living at home now. Your parents will take care of the bills.” 
“Wow,” Donna frowned. “What brought that on?”
 Rochelle ignored the question and tilted her pretty head at Donna. “Why didn't you stay at The Dark Side last night?” 
So...it hadn't all been a nightmare. 
“You missed so much fun,” Rochelle continued.  “I met this new girl - a sophomore.  Her name's Samee Franklin.” Why did that name sound familiar? Donna loaded her arms with books and slung her bag over her shoulder, which hurt. Rochelle watched her for a moment and tilted her head again. “Are you okay? You look stressed.”
“It's nothing. Tell me about the new girl.”
Rochelle smiled. Her teeth were beautiful, just like the rest of her. “Samee said she met you yesterday. You tried to run her over.”
“Oh, yeah.”  It came back to her, like a bad dream.
“She said she really likes you.”
“She barely knows me.” Donna paused. “You said she's a sophomore? She looks young to be that far along in college.”
Rochelle chuckled. “She's not in college.”
Donna's eyes widened. “She's a sophomore in high school? Isn't she a bit young for you to be hanging out with?”
Rochelle batted her eyes. “And this, coming from a grown woman who lives with Mommy and Daddy.”
“That's different,” Donna snapped. 
“Of course it is,” Rochelle's tone hinted at disdain. Somebody slammed a car door, which made Donna jump. “Why are you so jittery today?”
Donna shook her head. “I'm not, I mean...Mo's at work all day and I - would you like to go to lunch with me?”
“I'd love to.” Rochelle's expression didn't match her words. “But I can’t.  Samee already asked me to lunch.”
“You're going to lunch with the high school kid?” Donna felt the urge to laugh, but swallowed it.
Rochelle shrugged. “Maybe you'd like to join us.  I'm sure Samee wouldn't mind. We're going to the Thai Palace.” 
“You know I can't even stand the smell of peanut sauce.”
“Oh yeah,” Rochelle sighed. “I forgot about that.”
“How could you forget about my peanut allergy? It sent me to the hospital our first month living together.”
Rochelle flipped her hair. “I have a lot on my mind since...well, never mind. Sorry about the Thai food.” She produced a flat, eerie smile. “Maybe next time I'll choose crispy burgers and greasy fries. You and your toilet-brush headed friend seem to enjoy those quite a bit.” Donna opened her mouth to defend Mo's hair, but before she had a chance, Rochelle chattered on. “I'm going back to The Dark Side tonight, with Samee.” 
Donna tried to avoid feeling the sting in the way Rochelle said that.  “So are Mo and I.”
“Two nights in a row? That's a lot of nightlife for a homebody like you. Well, have fun.” Rochelle said goodbye and sauntered away in her high heeled shoes.
The words of Donna’s nightmare man echoed in her mind. “Do not trust the red-haired one.” That's what he'd said. Mo's hair wasn't always red. Just last week it had been purple. But the new kid, Samee, had naturally reddish hair...and an unnatural effect on Rochelle.

Donna arrived home to a peaceful, but still empty house. Each of the bedrooms had its own bathroom, since the previous owners had converted the house to a bed and breakfast. Growing up, Donna had adjusted to loving it that way, because she had all the privacy she could ever want...a big house with frequently absent parents. Right now though, all that bigness made her feel lonely and vulnerable. She locked herself in the purple bedroom and pretended to care about Physics homework. When that didn't work, she called Mo.
“This is Mo,” her voice mail said. “I'd like to take your call, but I'm busy raising hell and pissing off the masses. Leave a message and I'll get back to you after I'm done saving the world.”
Donna sighed in the phone. “I'm sorry Mo, but I don't think I can do this tonight. Call me back. We need to talk.” She hung up and sat in the silent room, picking her fingernails and sketching the same murder scene over and over until it made her feel crazy.  She looked at the clock.  It was almost time to leave for The Dark Side, so Donna called Mo's phone again.
“This is Mo. I'd like to take your call-”
“Damn it!” 
Donna texted Mo. That didn't do any good either, which stood to reason, because knowing Mo, she'd probably left her phone precisely where she wasn't. Donna begrudgingly drove to The Dark Side where the line to get inside was long and she was the only person in it without a partner.
“Are you Donna?” A voice came from behind, which made Donna jump. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” A striking tall, thin girl with bleached hair that offset beautifully against her chocolate skin stood next to Donna. She wore a crisp black business suit and an attitude to match, even sauntering right into the line as if she owned the place. She looked too professional for a Goth club, though her thick-rimmed cat glasses and bloody hatchet earrings fit right in. She extended her hand. “I'm Liz. I work with Mo at the newspaper.” Donna took her hand, shook it. “She asked me to meet you here and get you in.” 
Donna frowned. “Oh?”
“Didn't Mo tell you any of this?”
“Mo's sometimes forgetful that way.”
Liz chuckled. “Mo’s sometimes like that.”
Donna nodded and pointed toward the entrance. “Good luck getting in. The line tonight is even longer than it was last night.”
“I know,” Liz said eagerly. “Isn’t it great?”
“It's absolutely fantastic,” Donna muttered. Why did everybody get excited about being crammed in like sardines?
“More people mean more business.” Liz smiled wide, revealing big, perfect teeth. She caught Donna admiring them and shut her mouth quickly.
“I suppose that's one way of looking at it,” Donna shrugged. “If you want, I can call my friend Rochelle. She knows the bouncer.”
Liz grabbed Donna's wrist. Why did everybody keep doing that? “Your friend knows Hank,” she said. “I know somebody even better. Come on, trust me.” She winked and a devilish expression danced across her features.  Donna wondered if Liz was hiding a superhero cape underneath her sensible suit. She led Donna to the front of the line where a different bouncer, an even bigger one than Hank, stood astride the doorway. He looked like a boulder with eyes.
“Hi Bruce,” Liz smiled and he parted for Donna and Liz to pass. Somebody booed.  Liz offered them free drinks if they could get in the same way, then she laughed. Donna followed Liz into the club and was immediately engulfed by loud music.
“Bruce seems nice,” Donna hollered.
“That must be why I'm marrying him next summer.” 
A boulder and a superhero. Why not? 
“We met here.” Liz turned so Donna could hear her better. “I work here and at the paper, you know.”
“No, I don't know. Well, I guess I do now.” Donna was about to ask if Liz knew where Mo was, but she dragged Donna alongside the bar then let go.
“I need to get back to work,” she shouted. “I went out to get you on my break, but damn girl, you were late.  Now, so am I. Have fun tonight.” She surveyed Donna carefully. “And be careful.” Liz turned to the nearest customer and said, “What can I get for you tonight?”  Then she left Donna alone, without an anchor in the sea of people.  One of those people elbowed her hard and didn’t even notice. 
chapter six


Mo was nowhere in sight, so Donna texted her again. 
“Where r u?” 
She clicked her phone shut and stood in the corner watching for her friend's scruffy, blood-red hairstyle in a maze of other scruffy, colorful hairstyles.  That's when Donna caught a glimpse of the new kid, Samee, who turned toward Donna and beamed just as Donna tried to look away. She waved excitedly and bounded over - bringing elation and glee to the very spot where Donna had been trying to hide from it.
“Donna!  Wow, it’s so great to see you here!”
“Hi, Samee.” Donna's tone was dark.
“Guess what? I'm here with your friend Rochelle.” As if on cue, Rochelle emerged from a throng of people and stood right next to Samee. Samee squeezed Rochelle like they were twin sisters separated at birth. Was it Donna’s imagination, or did Rochelle seem less bright and perhaps even less beautiful? Maybe it was the bubbling bottle of shook-up soda standing right next to her. 
Rochelle looked to either side of Donna. “Aren't you supposed to be here with Mo? Because I don't see the little porcupine-headed rodent anywhere.”
“I bet our drinks are up,” Samee said. “I'll go check. You guys can stay here and talk.” She skipped toward the bar.
Donna frowned at Rochelle. “Who is that girl, exactly?”
“I thought you said you knew Samee.”
“I barely met her,” Donna picked at a thumbnail. “But what I mean is why are you hanging out with a kid five years younger than you? Where is she from? Where does she live?”
Rochelle perked up at that final question. “Speaking of that, do you know where Samee's house is?”
Donna folded her arms. “No. That's why I just asked you.” What in the hell was wrong with Rochelle all of a sudden?
Rochelle pushed blonde locks away from her face. She looked tired, hollow.  “She lives in that old house on Autumn Lane over by your parents’ house.”
Donna scoffed. “The bouncy little redhead lives in a creepy, old, haunted house on a dead-end road in the middle of nowhere...That's like something out of a stupid horror movie.”
Rochelle laughed dryly. “Don't be mean just because you're jealous.”
“I'm not jealous.” 
Just surprised at your interest in Samee. Okay, and maybe the tiniest bit jealous. 
Samee trotted back carrying a drink in each hand, smiling warmly. 
“Would you like to join us, Donna?”
Rochelle stared blankly at Donna, who shook her head.
“No, thanks. I'm meeting another friend.”
“The one with the pokey-uppy hair?” Samee beamed, and Donna wondered how the cheery little twit knew so much about her. “Okay then. You two have fun.” She took Rochelle by the hand and they melted in with the crowd. Samee's enthusiasm toward her ex-roommate tugged at Donna.  It seemed almost contrived. Nobody could be that happy and not be hiding secrets. She shook her head and sighed. 
Maybe Mo's suspicious nature is rubbing off on me.  After last night's events, “suspicious” seemed a perfectly valid way to describe things.
Donna made her way toward the back room because she assumed that's where Mo would assume she'd go. Gloom clung to the corners like cobwebs back there and Donna shivered, backed in a corner and crossed her arms. At least this way she could see danger coming from as many angles as possible. She could also see Mo coming at her, which Donna hoped would happen soon. Perhaps the would-be kidnapper with the perfectly chiseled jaw wouldn't even show up. That simultaneously relieved and saddened her. Immediately after that thought crossed her mind, Donna's neck hair stood. Why did she feel like she was being watched again?  Where was that nosy waitress? Donna searched the back area until her gaze caught a shadow that slowly peeled itself from the wall and headed right toward her.
“Why are you here when I expressly forbid it?”
Donna scoffed. “What gives you the right to expressly forbid me to do anything?”
He stared at her.  She stared back. His three-day shadow didn't look a minute older than it had the night before, and tonight it accentuated sultry lips. He snickered, almost like he knew what she was thinking. Her cheeks warmed. Then he looked sharply to the right and growled, just like a wild animal sending out a warning signal to a predator.
Donna turned to the right and saw nothing. “What are you looking at?” He ignored her, kept growling. “I said-”
“I heard you,” he stopped growling.
“Well then answer me.”
“How's this for an answer? When you're not around your funny looking friend, you're an easy target.”
“How do you know who I'm-?” Donna shut her mouth. The less she told this mysterious guy, the better. He smirked. “Why do I feel like you're reading my mind?” His broad shoulders shrugged. “Why do you keep saying I need to go home but then you won’t tell me anything else?” He remained silent. “Why don't you tell me who you are? Are you a cop? A private investigator? How about a fed? Are you from the FBI?”
“My job is to take care of things.”
“Did you take care of the man in the blue Toyota?” Donna's voice quivered, tears stung her eyes. “He's dead. Shot right in front of me. I don't know if I'll ever get the image out of my mind.”
“I'm sorry,” he said in an unusually sympathetic tone. He placed a hand on her forehead. She tried to wiggle away, but he took hold of her bruised wrists. Why did everybody keep grabbing her there? “Close your eyes and breathe.” Donna didn't want to, but she did exactly as he asked. Her heartbeat slowed.  The throbbing noise and pulsating lights from the dance floor faded. His breathing and hers slowly came together and became one. Donna could've sworn she even felt his heartbeat, but that was impossible. When he instructed Donna to open her eyes, she felt disoriented. But something else happened, too. Suddenly, bad memories of the shooter, the victim, and the evil police officers clouded over, became less real. 
Almost like those things never happened.
Her wrists felt warm. She looked down at them; the bruising had faded.
“How did you-?”
“Go home,” he snarled.
“What's your name?”  She stared in his eyes, searching for something familiar.
“Hunter.”
“You're a Hunter?”
He chuckled. “My name. You asked what it is. It's Hunter.”
She blushed. “Oh. Hunter who?”
“Just Hunter.”
“Hunter with no last name?” He just shrugged. “Well Hunter-with-no-last-name, what did you just do to me?”
“It's magic,” he shrugged again.  But a playful twinkle danced across his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a lop-sided grin which made Donna's tummy tingle. “And if you want to thank me for it, you can do so by going home.”
“How old are you?” She peered closely at his features. “Twenty-five?”
“Good guess.”
“So why are you in a club for high school kids?”
“Why are you?” he asked back. 
Donna looked at the floor. “My friend dragged my here.”
“Maybe mine did too,” he grinned.
Donna chuckled. “No offense, but you seem like the kind of guy who hasn't got many friends.”
“And you seem like the kind of girl who should go home now.” 
“Not unless you tell me why.” Hunter scoped the room. Donna scoped it too. “What are we looking for?”
“Here's why you should go home,” Hunter hissed. “It's because people are not always what they say they are.”
“Like guys named Hunter with no last name?” A storm rolled across his face but he didn't say a word, so Donna continued. “What kind of name is Hunter, anyhow? And what exactly is it you're hunting?”
“Go home. Now.” He backed into the shadows....and took his mesmerizing eyes with him.
“You have nice eyes, too.” his voice came from behind. But when she whirled around to ask how he'd done it again, no one was there. Donna's mouth gaped in astonishment, but before she had time to absorb what had just happened, Mo shoved through a group of kids on the dance floor and ran to her, breathless.
“Was that him?” she panted. “It was, wasn’t it? I can tell, because the color is drained from your face. You look awful.”  Mo scrunched her nose.
“Thanks.”
“He's really tall,” Mo exclaimed. “Did he try to take you?”
“You don't know?” Donna's tone revealed her irritation. “I thought my best friend was watching out for me.”
“Oh please.” Mo rolled her eyes. “I got over here as fast as I possibly could.”
Donna raised an eyebrow. “Well, he's not the one.”
Mo shook her head frantically. “How do you know?”
“Because he still didn't try to take me. He's had his chance twice now,” she glowered at Mo, “while nobody was looking.”
Mo slumped in a chair and sighed. “Maybe he just isn't in the kidnapping mood again,” she speculated.
Donna narrowed her eyes. “If I didn't know better, I'd almost get the feeling you want him to take me.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”  A concentrated look crossed her face.  “He could be lying. It's not like he would admit to kidnapping tall blondes while he's talking to one.”
“I already thought of that,” Donna chewed on her ring fingernail and hated that she'd regressed back to the old habit. “Call it intuition or whatever you want, but he's not the guy.” 
“Donna, what aren't you telling me?”
“What do you mean?”
Mo peered suspiciously. “I've known you for...” she counted on her fingers, and then ran out. “A long time. You can't lie without me knowing it.”
“Look who's talking about lies. If I had a dollar for every lie you've ever told, I'd be rich.”
“You are rich, dummy.”
“My parents are rich. I'm too poor for my own apartment.” Donna folded her arms defiantly. “And he's not the one, so the subject of Hunter is closed.”
“The subject of who?”
“The kidnapper.” Donna shook her head. “I mean, the not kidnapper.” 
Mo grimaced. “Why didn't you just say so?”
“I am saying so.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Hey, did you know Rochelle's here? She's chumming around with some little high school girl.”
“That's Samee.” 
Mo scrunched her nose. “Well then, she’s chumming around with some little high school girl named Sadie.”
“Samee, not Sadie.”
“Whatever.  Rochelle is practically old enough to be little Sally's mother.”
“Samee.”
“It's pretty sad that your ex-roommate's hanging around with a high school kid, like nobody her own age wants her.” Mo picked between her teeth with a pinkie nail. “Do I have food stuck anywhere?” She pulled back her lips.
“You look like a horse face when you do that.”
“Better a horse's face than its ass.” Mo pounded a fist on the table. “Well, this night is just bad all the way around. I really thought we'd get the kidnapper.”
“But we didn't. And it's probably a good thing because what would we have done if we had?” Mo stared off in space, so Donna repeated the question. When Mo still didn't answer, Donna snapped her fingers across Mo's field of vision. Mo looked, but her mind was miles away. “Oh no,” Donna said. “Your brain is working double time.” Whenever Mo did that, it never led to any good. It led to things like a five-year-old Mo convincing Donna to hold her cat while she waxed his legs. It led to throwing rotten eggs at the school principal when the girls were ten. It led to chasing scary kidnappers that even the cops wouldn't touch. “Mo?” Donna repeated.
“Give me a minute,” Mo shook her head. “I'm just thinking.” 
Donna clenched her teeth and groaned. “I'm sick of this kidnapper crap.  I just want everything to go back to normal. I'm going to the bathroom now and while I'm gone, I want you to sit here and think things through. We could be in danger if we keep this up, Mo. And I know that doesn't bother you as much as it bothers me, but it does bother me a lot. So, I'm not making one more move until we know we can get the guy without anybody getting hurt. And honestly, I don't know if we can do that because I don't know how much trust I have in the cops.”
She looked up. “So you agree they're useless.”
“I agree they might not be not doing their public servant job all that well.” Donna didn’t elaborate because she knew it would only raise Mo’s suspicions.  She hurried to the bathroom, but the line was clear to the dance floor. “Shit,” she muttered, then remembered the small, single bathroom that was hidden toward the back, used mainly by staff. In fact, it was unmarked and hardly any paying customers even knew it was there, but since Donna spent so much time in the back, she knew. She dashed to the back room, half expecting Hunter to emerge from the darkness and chastise her for going pee instead of going home. But instead of him, she saw a waitress who got to the bathroom first. Donna waited outside the door and shifted from foot to foot, doing what Mo called the “pee-pee dance.”  She glanced around the room until her gaze caught the emergency exit door next to the bathroom. She'd noticed it before, but never paid much attention.  The waitress emerged, smiling politely at Donna. 
“All yours,” she said. 
Donna used the restroom then stood in front of the emergency door, staring at it. The strongest urge to see what was on the other side compelled her.  She leaned against the press bar. The door didn't open. She leaned harder.  It still didn't open. She pushed hard against it, but it still didn't budge. So she shoved against the door with all her weight. This time the door flew wide open and Donna fell outside, tripping over the threshold, twisting her ankle and falling on her butt. 
Shit!
The door slammed shut and Donna was in an alley on the wrong side of that stupid door...which had no outside handle. The alley was dark, chilly and a thick smell - stale chicken? - hung in the air. There was another smell, too. Like something had died back there. Donna covered her nose with one hand, pulled out the phone with the other and called Mo.
“This is Mo. I'd like to take your call, but I'm busy raising hell and pissing -”
“Damn you, Mo!” Donna slammed the phone shut. “I suppose there's no sense in texting,” she said to a passing cockroach. Everything echoed in that alley so that when Donna croaked out a timid “Hello?” each brick answered. She and the cockroach weren't alone back there, either. A rat scurried past her foot. She shrieked, and then blushed. 
It's just a rat.  Why get hysterical? 
Another rat snacked on something next to a trash can outside the back door of a Chinese restaurant.  A wind gust whipped an empty soda can against the wall, and a porn magazine lay open by where Donna had fallen. The centerfold girl was tall and blonde. 
“Donna...” His voice boomed from above and it clattered against the bricks.
“Who's there?” But she already knew.
“Donna!” This time the voice sounded different, and it came from the street. A tall, dark figure ran down the alley, directly at her.  It came fast. She tried to stand and run, but before she even had time to get to her knees, he loomed above her.
“Are you trying to get killed?” he scolded. “Or worse?”
“Worse? What's worse than getting killed?” Donna waited for an answer, but he just kept scowling. “How do you know my name, Hunter?”
He knelt down and scooped an arm under Donna's legs, another against her back. Her nose was inches from his chest, from his wildly thumping heart. And there was that smell again - so familiar - like cloves. 
“What are you doing?” She tried to push him away.  He didn’t let her.
“You're hurt. I'm getting you out of here.”
“Put me down.”
“I'm not leaving you here.” Hunter carried Donna clear down the alley and she protested the whole way. He crossed the street and filtered through the sidewalks until they reached her car, which they did in almost no time. 
“How did you get here so fast?” Donna demanded. “And how did you know this is my car? Are you stalking me?” Hunter lowered her to the passenger seat, then entered on the driver's side and started the engine. Donna reached for the key attached to the strap with the horse emblem on it. “How did you get the key from my back pocket?” He still didn't answer. “I have to go back and get Mo.” Hunter reached across her and fumbled for the lap belt which made Donna feel tingly, and trapped. Hunter clipped the belt then turned his attention to driving. He turned his head to back out of the parking spot and it made his jaw line look even more pronounced.  
“That friend of yours doesn't need a ride from you.”  He finally said.  “She'll get one from her boyfriend.”
“What boyfriend?”
“The guy she keeps talking to.”
“James?” Donna laughed despite the feeling that there was a rock in her stomach. “He's not her boyfriend.”
“Either way, she's too busy with him to worry about you.” He turned the Mustang left at Broad Street.
“You're wrong. Mo would not forget about me. Especially not after I almost decapitated her for leaving me stranded with...” Donna trailed off.
“With me?” The Mustang’s interior lit up red against the neon Bar-B-Q Barn sign on the corner of Broad Street and Main.
“Stop doing that,” Donna snapped.
“Stop doing what?”
“Reading my mind, or whatever you're doing that feels like mind reading.” Donna looked out the window and chewed on her thumb nail. They passed The West Windington Mall. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home.”
“You don't even know where I live.” Hunter sped through a stop sign and cut off an 18-wheel truck. “My car!” She covered her eyes.
Hunter scoffed. “There's a madman kidnapping women who look like you and you're worried about your car?”	
“How do I know that madman isn't you?” 
“You don't, which is exactly why you should stay at home where these questions won't have to come up.”
“So...are you the kidnapper?”
“No.” 
“If you're not the kidnapper, then are you a rapist?”
He shook his head no. 
“A serial killer?” 
Hunter chuckled. “You've got me pegged for all the bad guy positions. How flattering.”
“What else do you expect me to think?” 
“I don't care what you think.  I just want you to do what I say.”
Donna giggled nervously. “So you're the boss of me, now? Is that it?” 
Hunter didn't respond. 
Donna's dad had given her a travel-sized bottle of pepper spray for Christmas last year and insisted she take it everywhere she went. Donna had tossed it in her bag, and then forgotten all about it - until now. Her bag was safely tucked behind the driver's seat because all she ever took inside the club was her identification, keys, and phone. The challenge now would be to come up with a reasonable excuse why she needed her bag.
Donna cleared her throat. “Want a breath mint?”
Hunter chuckled. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Suit yourself,” she tried to shrug casually. “But I want one.”
“Well then, go right ahead.”
She reached for the bag but it was stuck behind the driver's seat because Hunter had pushed the seat back and squashed the bag behind it. 
Damn your long legs, mysterious, Greek god guy!
Hunter snickered under his breath, or maybe it was a sniffle.  Donna didn’t want to freak herself out any more so she decided on the latter.  She pushed her hand inside the bag and groped until she found her hairbrush, wallet, and the damned breath mints. She pushed all that aside, fumbled some more. A bracelet she thought she'd lost months ago, some dental floss, ah-ha! Way at the bottom, the tiny cylinder. Donna grasped it tight, brought her arm from the bag, and pushed the cylinder at Hunter's face.
“Pull over!” 
Hunter observed the cylinder, raised an eyebrow. “And if I don't?”
“Then you'll get a face full of this.” He swerved, and then laughed. Donna screamed. The cylinder flew from her hand and went right between Hunter's legs. She groped wildly for it.
He chuckled. “We barely know each other, but thanks for the offer.”
Donna blushed and snapped back her hand. Hunter smiled crookedly, reached between his legs and picked up the cylinder.  He deposited it in her lap. That's when Donna saw it wasn't the pepper spray at all. Her face reddened. She pushed the tampon to the floor and covered her face in her hands.
“Please, just kill me now.” 
“If you only knew the lengths I'm going to in order for that not to happen this time around.”
“This time around?” Donna frowned. The car slowed, Hunter turned left at Sunflower Street, and that's when Donna's nervous chuckle gave way to concern. “You even know where I live. How do you know where I live?” Hunter fumbled for the garage door button. The garage was empty, so showing up with a strange guy in the driver's seat of her new birthday present would not raise any eyebrows at Donna's parents' house. In fact, she was starting to wonder if it even was her parents’ house anymore when she was the only one ever in it. Hunter pulled in and shut down the engine. Donna opened the passenger door to get out but before she could place her good foot on the floor, Hunter was already by her side, kneeling in front of her, reaching for her foot.
“What are you doing?” Donna tried to tug away, but he wrapped his hand around her ankle, gently.  
Oh crap!  Did I even bother to shave at all this week?
“Your legs are perfect,” he whispered.
“How come you know what I'm thinking?”
“Shhhh.” Hunter held Donna's ankle and carefully rubbed it.  Within a second, warmth radiated from his hands and made her ankle tingle, and then her calf did, too. The feeling spiraled upward, around Donna's knee, across her thigh, then higher. She felt aroused. 
“How does that feel?” Hunter asked in a quiet, calm tone.
You can't even begin to know how it feels…  Donna hoped. Her breathing quickened, her pulse did too. She closed her eyes and moaned. She wanted more. Needed more. 
Hunter, please don't stop.
He stopped. 
“I'm sorry,” he whispered.
Donna opened her eyes. “What did I do wrong?”
Hunter didn't answer. He just backed against the wall, wearing a hooded expression, like a predator. Like his name. He pulled his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath and came back to her. “Take my hands.”
“Why?” But Donna did what he asked. He pulled her up from the Mustang's seat.
“How does that ankle feel?”
She shifted from one foot to the other and then smiled. “No pain at all. How did you do that?”
“It's a secret.”
“What isn't a secret with you, Hunter-with-no-last-name?” 
Before he could answer, Hunter got a text message.  He read it then grinned lopsidedly at Donna.  
“I have to go,” he said.  Her heart sank. Probably one of his girlfriends had just summoned him. “But I want to see you again. How does tomorrow night sound?”
Her heart skipped a beat.  Why not tomorrow morning?
“I'm not a morning person,” he answered. Donna shook her head. Had she said that out loud?  The past two days had been so crazy, she couldn’t even be sure.   “How does 8:00 pm sound, at the park a couple blocks from here?  What’s it called?  The Commons?” 
“Yeah, The Commons.”  Donna nodded too vigorously and she smiled too wide.  “I'll be there.” Hunter stepped outside. “How will you get home without a car?”
“I'll walk.”
“You live nearby?” Donna asked hopefully.
He turned away. “Don't let anybody in tonight. And close the garage door.”
“Do you want a ride?” 
“Close the door,” he said again.
“You never told me how you know my name or how you know where-” 
“Close the door, now.”
Donna felt annoyed by his demands, but attracted by his concern. She didn't know which force tugged at her more.  
Well, yes I do.
She smiled, punched the door button, and the door shut. She didn't want to stop looking at Hunter’s broad shoulders, or his adorable butt cheeks and the way they flexed and rounded with each step. So she stared through the garage door window until Hunter-with-no-last-name disappeared into the night. Then she continued to stare in the direction he'd gone until her phone rang. She flipped it open.
“Hi Mo,” she answered.
“Where are you?” What was Donna supposed to say? That she was home safe and sound while she'd left her best friend at The Dark Side all alone? 
“Um-”
“Do you think you can get home safely by yourself?” Mo sounded breathless. 
“Well-”
“Good. Because Jamie and I want to check out a few other clubs, see if any girls have gone missing from there, too.” It was just like Hunter had said, Mo was busy with James. Jamie. Whatever.
“I...okay. You guys be careful. It's getting weird out there.”
“Tell me about it,” Mo exclaimed and then hung up. Donna set the alarm, trudged upstairs then went to bed in an empty house.

Darkness permeated the woods, and so did the chill that went clear to her bones. Donna wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Clouds parted, letting filtered moonlight pierce the forest.  His face stayed sheltered by shadows so she couldn’t see him.  Nonetheless, he stood right in front of her, smelling like rotten flesh and growling like a rabid animal. It shook needles from the trees.
“What business do you have with the Warrior?” he demanded.
“Warrior?” Donna shivered.
“Stop pissing me off with stupid answers.”
“Stop pissing me off with stupid questions.” Something that felt like a 2x4 smashed against Donna's cheek, knocking her to the ground. He loomed above, spat in her face. It smelled like death and made her choke. “When will you ever stop this nonsense, Donna?”
She wiped spit from her cheek.  “What do you want from me?” 
“I want you to stop wrecking everything again.” And with that, he lifted a boot and kicked her left temple with the steel toe. Everything went black.

chapter seven


Donna woke up with a splitting headache and some concerns about the increasingly violent nature of her nightmares. 
I just need to relax.  I’ve gotten way too stressed and it’s causing me to have incredibly vivid nightmares.  
It was a quiet Saturday, and it begged for some kind of ordinariness.  So Donna picked up a pencil and sketched.  The next thing she knew, it was an hour later and her pencil was reduced to a nub.  She flipped back through her work; page after page of the same dark forest scene…and bloody eyes staring out from the darkness. The blood came from her own fingertip, where she'd chewed until it bled. She tore out the pages, balled them up and threw them in the trash.  She sat back in her chair and hid her face in her hands.  That's when the yelling started in the kitchen. At least her parents were finally home. 
Too bad they’re screeching at each other, though.
 The way Donna figured it, by the time she showered, dressed, and went downstairs, whatever they'd argued about would be smoothed over.  Then they could all sit down to breakfast as a nice, normal family. Donna took her time in the shower, letting the steam roll off her back, and by the time she ran out of hot water and shut off the spigot, the kitchen was quiet.  Donna smiled, knowing her parent’s argument routine by rote.   Indeed, everything was back to normal.  
She put on black Capris, a white blouse, and black slip-on shoes. Just as she prepared to pull a brush through her hair, the front door slammed shut and Dad's Jeep left the driveway. So much for a nice, normal breakfast with her parents. Donna's phone rang. It was a number she didn't recognize.
“Hello?”
“Donna?” A timid voice asked.
“Who is this?”
“It's Samee.” How had the little twit gotten Donna's phone number? “I got your number from Rochelle. I hope you don't mind.”
And if she did? “What can I do for you, Samee?”
“Um, I was just wondering how you're doing today.”
“Fine,” Donna said slowly, not even trying to hide the irritation in her tone.
“Oh, that's good.”
“Is there anything else, Samee?”
Samee stammered. “Well, um, your friend's boyfriend is kind of cute, isn't he?”
“Mo doesn't have a boyfriend.” Why was everybody jumping to that conclusion?
“Well then who was that cute guy she was with at the club?”
Donna rubbed her temples, inhaling sharply when the left one protested against her touch.  “That's James,” Donna explained.  “Or Jamie. James or Jamie. Something like that. Is there anything else I can do for you, Samee?”
“That's her boyfriend,” Samee insisted.  “They were making out in the back room.”
Donna's heart raced. “You must be mistaken.”
“Nope. That's her boyfriend and they were making out. Anyway, they're kind of cute together, don't you think?” Samee giggled. 
“I gotta go.”
“But I need to talk to you about -” Donna clicked the phone shut, then popped it back open and punched in Mo's number. It rang five times before she answered.
“Hello?” Mo yawned.
“It's me. Donna. Supposedly your best friend.”
“I don’t know anyone like that.” Mo's tone was sarcastic, but with the way things had been going, Donna jolted anyway. “I know who you are, Donna. What I don't know is what crawled up your butt and made you so bitchy.”
“I want you to explain something about last night.”
Mo groaned.  It sounded sleepy. “Are you mad? Because I asked if you were okay about going home alone and you said yes.”
“Is there something you should tell me, Mo?”
“Tell you?” Another yawn.
“I heard a rumor.” Donna was silent for a moment, giving Mo a chance to speak up, but for once, she didn't. “I heard you were making out with James at The Dark Side.” Donna held her breath, hoping Samee's eyesight had misled her. 
Silence. 
“Is it true?” Donna prodded.
“Well, I was thinking I could, maybe...” Mo sighed.
“Maybe what? Maybe remember to invite me to the wedding?”
“Okay, yes. Jamie and I have been seeing each other.”
“Obviously,” Donna snapped. “What's not obvious is why you didn't bother to tell me.”
Mo made an exasperated sound; Donna could practically see her eyes rolling. 
“It's...well, it's you,” she began.  “Let's face it Donna, at the rate you're going, you'll be a 40-year-old-virgin...and...I just don't like bringing up my...encounters, because then I feel guilty. I wasn't sure how you'd take it.”
“And how did you think I'd take it by finding out through the grapevine? We're supposed to be best friends. Best friends don't keep secrets from each other.”
Mo dallied for a moment before continuing.  “Okay then, in that case there's more.” Mo sounded apprehensive, which made Donna feel that way too. “I’m pregnant.”
Donna gasped. “How -?”
“We used a condom, but it still happened.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I just barely found out about it myself a couple weeks ago. I was trying to work things out, figure out what to do. I was going to tell you, Donna.”
“When? During labor?”
“I'm sorry,” her tone was apologetic. “And right now I gotta get ready for work.  Then after work, I'm helping out at the soup kitchen. Hey, maybe you can stop by then and we can talk some more.  You know, after the rush?”
“Yeah, I guess we should.” 
They ended the call and Donna sat on her bed, feeling numb. She'd have expected Mo to get arrested before she'd expect her to get pregnant. Kidnappers, killers, and a pregnant best friend. What next? Donna looked in the mirror as if the answer could be found there. A shiner had formed right where the boot had hit. Great. Now she'd get to explain to Hunter about the nightmare man who crawled out of her dreams and left bruises on her body. That ought to impress him.  
She made her way downstairs and to the kitchen doorway, then stopped and gasped. Almost every drawer and cupboard was pulled open, the contents spilled across the floor. A knife was even stuck in the wall right above her head. A jar of salsa and a bottle of olive oil lay cracked and oozing across the counter and inside open drawers. Dishes were strewn everywhere. Donna carefully stepped in the room. Broken glass crunched under her feet and shards of fine china and heirloom pottery littered the floor. How had she not heard this fight happening?
Donna carefully picked up the biggest glass pieces and tossed them in the garbage.  She swept the remaining slivers, scooped up every grain of sugar, pasta noodle, and crumb of her mother's favorite fat-free rice cakes. She restored canned peas and carrots to their rightful spots and washed a splatter of something pink and gooey from the window above the sink. Then she slopped up spills with paper towels. She used a whole roll to clean up the mess. Finally, she drew the garbage bag shut, stuffed it inside a second bag, and carried the bundled mess to the alleyway garbage can. By the time Donna finally sat at the counter to a bowl of cereal, it was early afternoon, and she felt hungry enough to swallow the bowlful in one gulp. But the milk tasted sour and the flakes were smashed from the fight, so she dumped the contents down the garbage disposal and sifted through the cupboards until she found a half bag of chips that had somehow been spared in the battle. After finishing the last chip and looking around the kitchen, it hit Donna with undeniable force: everything in her life was going crazy.  She called Rochelle. Mo could say what she might about Rochelle, but in all the time she and Donna had shared that apartment, Rochelle had been a strong, sturdy anchor to keep Donna grounded.  Right now, that's exactly what she needed. 
“Hello, Donna,” Rochelle's voice was flat when she answered.
“Hi Rochelle, how are you doing today?” 
“Fine,” Rochelle said curtly.   
“I was just wondering if you and I could get together soon.” 
Silence. 
“You and Samee seem to be great friends.” 
More silence.  Donna wondered if she should hang up and try again. Maybe she had accidentally connected to that weird alternate reality that had been pestering her lately. 
“Yeah,” Rochelle finally said.  “Samee and I get along great. She's a lot of fun.” The word “she” was emphasized. “Did Samee tell you about Mo's boyfriend?”
“Yes,” Donna's discomfort mounted.
“I introduced Samee to a couple guys that are about her age. She's so cute and fun.  Soon she'll have a boyfriend. Then you'll be the only one without a boyfriend, and the only one without a life, too.” Donna's throat tightened. “It figures you can't get a boyfriend, Donna. Especially when you don't give a guy what he wants, like you didn't give Matt what he wanted.”
“He wanted sex.”
“Yeah, exactly. Most normal people do want sex, Donna. Including me. So I helped out your poor boyfriend.” Rochelle laughed, and it rang hollow.
Donna slammed the phone shut and threw it down on the counter. Then she stared at it. Somehow this all had to be that little redhead's fault. Just as the nightmare man had promised. Donna climbed back upstairs and sat at her desk drawing...mostly redheaded she-devils and heartless roommates. After an hour, she balled up those sketches, laid her head on the desk and dozed off.
Donna stood in the woods, shivering because she was wearing only a light dress. The air felt thick with hatred.  She couldn’t tell if it was hers, or…
“It's no fun when somebody wrecks your life, is it Donna?” He stood behind her and leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear. His breath stank. She turned to face him, to spit at him like he had done to her, but he pushed her face away. Then Donna's injury caught his attention. He took her chin in his hand. “I did that.”
Yeah,” she sneered. “It's a real gold star moment for you.”
“Don't be sarcastic.” His cold, slippery tongue licked Donna's cheek, causing bile to gurgle in her throat. “And don't make me destroy everything again.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘again’?” 

On the other side of Donna's conscious, a racket just outside the window jostled her back to reality. The racket turned out to be heavy engine roar, like a bulldozer preparing to level a mountain. But there were no mountains in her parents’ front yard.  Donna parted the purple curtains just in time to see the back end of an old, black Bronco turn the corner and rumble away. 
No…please, not him again.
The idea of that insane shooter knowing where she lived was enough to make Donna want to jump out of her skin.  So she convinced herself it was somebody else's ugly, old Bronco - even though ugly, old Broncos were a rare sight on Sunflower Street.
Business Ethics homework wasn't capturing Donna's focus but feeling sorry for herself wasn't lifting her mood and the idea of falling asleep again was almost too much to bear. Plus, since seeing the Bronco, Donna had doubts about even staying home at all...with a target on her forehead. She grabbed the Mustang keys and took off to search for a job, which turned out to be a discouraging scavenger hunt. The best offer she got was weekends at a day care center that was packed from 6:00 am to midnight with screaming toddlers. Donna wasn't in the mood for that kind of work, though she hoped maybe Mo was. 
Her last stop was on the outskirts of town at New Leaf Garden Center, which smelled like roses, potting soil, and cedar. The gray-haired manager in the floral print apron and worn gloves politely smiled and promised to keep Donna's file on hand, even though they weren't hiring at this time. Disheartened, Donna left the garden center, but instead of heading left and back to town, she turned right, toward the haunted house at the end of Autumn Lane. The place was generally known around town to be the saddest, most decrepit eyesore in all of New England and rumor was the house might be slated for demolition. So when Donna pulled the Mustang in the cul-de-sac and cast her gaze upon the place, she thought she was on the wrong dead end street. 
Gone was the dark, dingy, wrought iron fence that had defined the house's circular driveway and in its place was a neat and tidy white picket. The faded gray paint that had peeled for decades on the old Victorian house was gone and now the clapboard gleamed white like freshly-polished teeth. Late summer flowers burst out at all angles from hanging baskets and containers. A birdbath buzzed with activity. It was magical.
It figures a cute little thing like Samee would live in a quaint dollhouse like this. 
Donna did notice something odd, though. The house’s shutters were clamped closed. She wondered at the wisdom of people who would spend all that effort exposing the natural beauty of a home and then slam shut the world from it. She turned the Mustang back toward town, more convinced than ever that Samee was up to no good.  Donna drove to the soup kitchen with the intention of talking it out immediately with Mo. But when Donna got there, the kitchen smelled like a school cafeteria and the volunteers buzzed around preparing food for the dozens who had already lined up out front. Talking would have to wait. 
Mo dashed by.  “We're having beef stew and baked potatoes,” she said to Donna instead of saying hi. She dashed by again with pitchers of pink lemonade. Mo wore a banana yellow shirt, matching socks, and that red nose stud and the crimson hair she'd had for a few days. Even Rochelle couldn't have looked good like that. But the ensemble fit Mo like a glove. She zoomed by again, stopped, backed up, and squinted at Donna's temple. 
“Where did that bruise come from?”
“I smacked my face against the bathroom cabinet,” Donna lied.
“Nice one, Gracie.” Mo rolled her eyes and Donna hoped the lie would work as well on Hunter.
Donna helped Mo and the other three volunteers poke fork holes in potatoes and fill little paper cups with sour cream.  After everybody was seated, she put on disposable plastic gloves and helped hand out plates. Mo hurried around the dining room, re-filling milk glasses and chatting with the regulars. An old woman and Mo cackled and snorted and cackled some more about something that clearly was the funniest thing ever.  One of the kids kissed Mo's cheek when she took him to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream. He sat on a crate of instant mashed potato mix and swallowed the chocolate ice cream in huge bites. 
We're not supposed to let anybody but the staff back here,” Mo whispered to Donna.  “But this kid's my favorite. Probably because he likes monsters as much as I do.”
Toward the end of the dinner hour, a guy about Donna's age stumbled in. He wanted his coffee mug filled, but he didn't want any food, just the coffee. Mo took the mug and poured it full. His eyes were lowered and he twitched frequently. Maybe that's why Mo didn't give him back the mug until after she'd pressed the lid on tight. She smiled wide. “See you next week, Kyle.” He grunted, grinned, turned and left. And after everybody was done eating and the doors were locked behind the last soup kitchen guest, Mo trotted around picking up silverware and napkins while the other volunteers cleaned up in the kitchen. Mo bent to her hands and knees to wipe spilled sour cream from the floor.
“How's this going to play out when you're eight months along?” Donna asked.
Mo chuckled. “Guess I'll need help getting back up.”
Donna picked at her pinkie nail. “Is your car fixed?”
Mo shook her spiky head. “And the piece of shit's going to cost $500.00. Needs some stupid sensor thingy.”
“How did you get here?”
Mo indicated toward the kitchen. “Patti. She lives kind of close to me.”
Donna looked to the kitchen where a plump woman with a gray ponytail and puffy, red cheeks scrubbed out a stew pot. Donna finally looped the Mustang key on the key ring, removed the Sentra key from it and put the key on the table next to Mo. “Here. It might need gas soon.”
She stopped picking up utensils.  Her eyes got big and her mouth gaped in surprise.
“You're giving me your car?”
Donna chuckled. “I'm loaning it to you until you can save up the money to get yours fixed.”
“Well,” Mo slowly picked up the key, grinned at Donna. “I suppose I can overlook the hideous color.” Mo winked and her eyes twinkled. 
“What's wrong with silver?”
“It's boring.” But then she hugged Donna. “Thanks. You're the best friend ever. And I promise to treat it like my own car.” Donna opened her mouth to protest but Mo chuckled.  Donna grabbed the broom and swept the floor, feeling better about everything just because of the smile on her best friend's face. 
Time went quickly in the soup kitchen’s dining room, and when the daisy-shaped, plastic wall clock read 7:45, Donna turned to Mo. “I need to go. I'm meeting somebody.”
Mo wiped her hands on her apron and cocked her head. “Who are you meeting?” Donna felt bad lying, but the truth would be worse; I'm meeting the maybe-kidnapper, who has a soft touch and nice ass. 
“Um, it's an interview for a job...over at New Leaf.” 
Mo scrunched her nose. “Fertilizer smell, gross.”
“Yeah, let’s hope I don’t get the job.”

Donna picked up a raspberry smoothie at the drive-through coffee place and arrived at The Commons promptly at 8:00. He wasn't there yet. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe he'd decided a twenty-one year old virgin with no job and stubbly legs wasn't his type. Maybe she was making a fool of herself for even being here. Maybe...Donna's gaze crossed to the swing set, which nobody was using.  She strolled over, set her smoothie to the side, plopped in a swing seat and closed her eyes. She inhaled the crisp scent of coming fall and listened to the rusty chain creak under her weight. The pendulum motion carried her back to childhood, to a time when parents didn't act like tantrum-throwing toddlers and college roommates didn't have sex with your boyfriend behind your back. Forward, back, forward, back...to a time when scary guys in ugly cars didn't shoot blue Toyota stalkers right in front of you, when best friends didn't keep a secret life. Higher, higher...up and away...to a place where everything went along nice and normal, exactly as expected.
Something grabbed Donna's ankles. She screamed.
“That's an interesting hello,” Hunter smiled, and it was lopsided.
“Oh, hi.” Donna said it as casually as she could, considering she'd just about died from the shock of his approach. She hopped from the swing, grabbing her drink.  Then she walked to a nearby bench and sat with as much carelessness as she could, even though tonight he looked exceptionally gorgeous in a ball cap and black leather jacket. He sat next to Donna, and smelled like cloves.
“You were on time,” he said.
“You weren't.” She blushed, but he didn't see it.
“I just keep forgetting the days are getting shorter.”
“Oh.” What did that have to do with anything?
“So,” he sighed. Probably out of boredom. “What do you want to talk about?”
Donna sipped her smoothie. “Everything.”
“If I tell you everything, you won't believe me.”
“Try me.”
A young couple walked past, the guy pushing a stroller. The woman laughed at something he said.  He smiled back at her. Hunter glanced at them. When he did, Donna took a better look at him. The brim of his cap shaded his pale skin against the last moments of daylight. She'd never known anybody to be so pallid and yet so alluring. He didn’t notice Donna staring at him because he was engrossed in watching the couple.
“I've been tracking a guy for months,” he said when the couple passed.
Donna set aside her smoothie and sat on her hands so she wouldn't bite her nails. “Tracking?”
“The guy who's taking these blonde girls.  I've followed him for a while now. He was in Spain before he came here.”
“So I was right. You are a cop.” 
“The Dark Side is a perfect transitional place while he waits.” Hunter stared out at the grass, his brow furrowed. Donna freed her hands to sip more smoothie, which was getting close to the bottom.  She'd have to pay attention and not slurp like Mo. 
“If you know where he's hanging out,” she said, “why can't you arrest him?”
“It doesn't work like that with him.”
“How does it work with him, then?” Hunter picked up a stick, tossed it across the grass. A fat, black Labrador retriever trotted up, took the stick in its mouth, wagged its tail and trotted back to its owner.
“Sorry,” the owner smiled sheepishly. “This dog thinks the whole world's his chew toy.”
“It’s okay, he can have it.”  Hunter chuckled, and Donna’s tummy tingled at the sound.  He turned back to Donna. “The guy I'm after has staked his claim on a particular victim. He tracks her everywhere she goes but he can't touch her, except at night.”
“Too much visibility?”
“You could say that.” Hunter gently took Donna's chin in his hand, examined the most recent injuries. “That looks painful.”
“It is. I mean, just a little.” He didn't ask how it had gotten there, for which she felt grateful. 
Hunter turned away. “He has minions.”
“Minions?”
“People who work for him.” Times were certainly rough in the job market, as she well knew, but what kind of person would apply for the occupation of kidnapper's assistant? “He's getting closer to making his move now that he and I are both here.”
“Why does he wait for both of you to be here?”
Hunter's voice deepened, almost to a growl. “He likes to torment me.”
Her lip curled. “That sounds pretty sick and twisted.”

“He enjoys it best when I can find fresh evidence of his crime.”
Goosebumps gathered on Donna's arms. “Definitely sick and twisted.”
“But when he makes his move this time, I'll be here to stop him.” Hunter stood and brought Donna up with him. His hand went to the injured side of her face, and warmth instantly gathered there. His breathing got shallow, and his heart beat louder. Hers did the same.  She was struck with the strangest sensation - like their breathing and heartbeats were in perfect synchronicity. It was almost as if they were sharing the same body and mind. Hunter wrapped his arms around Donna, pulling her close. The world melted away when he leaned down and kissed her. His lips tickled hers, their tongues met. His fingers made a slow, methodical trail across Donna's cheek then down her arm. She wrapped her fingers through Hunter's jet black hair, and then teased them down his back. Her hands crept underneath his shirt. He shuddered, his muscles tensing and releasing. He slid his tongue from just underneath her chin to her collarbone. Then it was her turn to shudder. His touch shot electrical surges through Donna's body. If he would have let go right then she'd have collapsed to the ground. She nibbled his neck. He leaned back, groaned.
“Donna, I've waited so long for this.”
She giggled. “Two days?” Hunter's hands abruptly stopped their traverse. He pushed away, ripping Donna from his warmth, scent, heartbeat - like a rubber band stretched until it snapped. What had she done wrong? If Rochelle were here, she'd know how to fix it. Of course, she might also push Donna aside and take care of Hunter herself.
“I'm sorry, Donna. I shouldn't have been so forward -”
Donna stood tall, reached her right arm behind Hunter's neck, brought his face down to meet hers and kissed him. He tensed, then sighed deeply and kissed her back. They melted together.  With their lips still locked, Hunter laid Donna gently on the ground. She loved how his body felt above her and how his hands glided across her midriff, sending power surges everywhere they touched. Her breathing was ragged, her back arched. Her heartbeat and his thundered together. She glanced at his throat. A pulse throbbed there, the same pulse that throbbed in her. She wanted to whisper, “Do anything you want to me,” but just before she did, a sharp protrusion from under Hunter's upper lip caught her attention.
“A fang?” she giggled. Hunter jumped up like Donna was made of broken glass and then disappeared into the woods so fast she couldn't even tell which way he went. “Hunter?” No answer. “Hunter? I didn't mean anything bad, it just looked...Please come back, let me explain.” But he didn't come back, so she couldn't explain. After ten minutes of waiting, Donna finally sulked to the park bench, retrieved what was left of her raspberry smoothie and tossed it in the trash can.  She trudged back to her Mustang and drove home. 
A fang? 
What an idiot she'd been for even saying something so stupid.  Of course it wasn’t a fang.  Donna pulled in the driveway and glowered at the front of her parents’ house.  She noted with nostalgia how normal everything used to be when she came home. Now nothing made sense. Donna pushed the garage remote and felt annoyed when she saw that neither of her parents' cars was in the garage. Apparently, she really did live here alone. Donna pulled the car in and pushed the button to close the door. It went about half way down, then shuttered to a stop and re-opened. She got out of the car to see what the problem was. 
She gasped.
“I’m sorry.  I overreacted.”  Hunter stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, head bowed, shoulders stooped. He didn't say a word.  He just stood there with his foot blocking the door sensor. 
“Get out of here before I call the police.”
He smirked. “You know as well as I do, the cops aren't on your side.” Yes, she did know that. But how did he? 
“Get out.”
“Donna, you don't understand.”
Her face reddened, tears welled in her eyes. “I understand that I've asked you twice to get out of this garage, yet you're still in it.”
“Fine.” Hunter stepped back.
Donna pushed the button and the door shut with Hunter standing on the opposite side of it. She set the security alarm and slammed the side door when she stepped from the garage into the house. She considered calling Mo and going to her house for the night. Not that Mo didn't have enough problems of her own, but being home all alone right now was almost more than Donna could bear. But having to tell Mo about Hunter would be even worse, so she grabbed a soda, checked the voice mail and then trudged upstairs, feeling humiliated. She pushed open her bedroom door and then screamed.
“That's the second time you've said hi like that,” Hunter grinned timidly. 
Donna's voice quivered. “How in the hell did you get in here?”
His Adam's apple shifted when he swallowed. “We really need to talk.”
“No. You really need to leave. And anyhow, how in the hell did you get in my bedroom?” Even as the words tumbled from her mouth, Donna remembered that Rochelle knew the alarm code because Donna had given it to her last spring when her family went to New York with Mo and Jill. Rochelle had promised to bring in the mail and check on the houseplants. Apparently, she’d helped herself to more than just Matt.  
Donna glowered at Hunter. “Rochelle is behind this, isn't she?”
Hunter shook his head. “What are you talking about?” 
“Don't play innocent with me, mister. Rochelle's turned against me since she met that weird little girl, Samee.”
“Samee?” Hunter's eyebrows lifted in recognition of the name.
Donna's eyes widened. “So, you do know Samee.”
“I didn't say I know anybody named Samee.”
“You didn't have to.  It's written all over your face. So tell me, Hunter-with-no-last name, did Samee and Rochelle put you up to this?”
“Put me up to what?” Hunter folded his arms across his perfect chest, which made his shoulders look even broader. 
Why does he have to look like that when I’m trying to get rid of him?
“Put you up to pretending you like me.” Donna bit her index finger nail.
“Why would I pretend to like you?”
“For fun,” Donna snapped. “Granted, it's immature fun, but then everything that little bitch touches seems to turn childish. Look what happened to Rochelle.”
“I'm not sure what to tell you, Donna-”
“Why don't you tell me if you're having fun yet?” Donna's breathing got shallow and her legs shook. Why wouldn't he just go away? “Or does the fun start when Rochelle pays you in sexual favors?”
Hunter shook his head and chuckled. “If you only knew.”
“Why don't you enlighten me?”
“Are you sure you want that? Because once I tell you, there's no taking it back.”
“Fine,” Donna's tone was short. “Just tell me.”
Hunter shrugged. “I'm here to protect you.”
“By breaking and entering?”
“By keeping your nightmares from coming to life.” 
Donna gasped. Hunter leaned against the wall, gazed at her with heavy eyes. 
“How do you know about my nightmares?” she asked.
“If I tell you, you won't believe me.”
“So you've said.”
He sighed. “I didn't want to get you this involved again. It never works out well for either one of us.”
“What is all this talk about ‘again’?”
“If you'd let me explain...” Hunter pushed black hair from his pale face then ducked his hands in his pockets like a frightened little boy.
“Only if you can explain without lying.”
“I haven't lied to you.”
Donna scoffed. “Oh, really? Then what would you call the fairy tale about the kidnapper being in Spain? And what about those ridiculous fangs? I've seen more realistic vampires at my doorstep on Halloween.”
That made him chuckle. “Well, thank you.” 
“You're welcome.” Donna folded her arms. “Now, tell me the truth or go away.” 
“You won't believe me if I tell you,” he repeated. “You never do. So I'll show you, and I apologize in advance for it.” Hunter hissed and the whole room shook. A wind gust came from nowhere, whipping through the room and sending objects into a fierce frenzy.  Donna's porcelain jewelry box crashed to the floor, splitting the lid in half. Books blew from shelves, their spines twisted. Pages fell out, twisting in the air. Strands of Donna's hair smacked against her cheek.  One stung her eye. She yelled at Hunter to make it stop, but the wind's voice was much louder than her own. Hunter's eyes closed and seconds later when he re-opened them, they were no longer the beautiful black orbs she was so attracted to.  Instead, they were red-hot coals that seared her soul, scorching with the heat of a million suns. Hunter's pale skin pulsed with blue veins.  A razor-sharp pair of fangs extended from his upper gums, clear to his chin. When he spoke, the wind instantly silenced and DVDs, earrings and a shoe that had been caught up in the tornado, all dropped to the floor in a great, synchronized crash.
Hunter's voice was like death. “Donna. Understand this, please. I'm a vampire. A real one. Not a cheap Halloween imitation.”
Donna screamed and ran to the bedroom door but before she could open it, Hunter's arm swung around her waist and he threw her on the bed, straddling her. She screamed. He covered her mouth and whispered “Shhhh” repeatedly. His fangs receded and his skin color faded back to normal. The red glow in his eyes died out. He sighed and sat back. Donna looked up at him desperately. He looked down at her tenderly.
“I won't hurt you.” 
“Let me go,” she whispered.  He didn't. Instead, he leaned forward, took her chin and held it tight. She tried to wiggle away, but he slowly lowered his lips until they almost touched her jaw. 
This is it.  He’s going to suck my blood. 
She wasn't ready to be killed, or worse, so she sobbed and begged him again to let her go. He didn't, but he didn't bite her neck, either. He laid his lips on hers and gently kissed her. After the kiss, he whispered.
“Donna, I can never let you go. We're Eternal Partners.” He stared in her eyes. “You're the other half of me.  I'm the other half of you. Can’t you feel it yet?” He backed away and let her sit up. She darted to the top of the bed and curled up in a tight ball, glowering at him. 
Her voice shook. “There's no such thing as Eternal Partners.”
“Like there's no such thing as vampires?” Hunter smiled crookedly.
“I don't know how you just did that thing with the wind and the stuff flying around,” she waved frantically, “but it can't be real. Rochelle must somehow be involved in this.”
Hunter shook his head and sighed in exasperation. “Would you please leave that girl out of it? This is about you and me, Donna. We've known each other for thousands of years.” 
“Oh, sure we have.  That makes a lot of sense.”  Donna scoffed. 
“It's easy for you to laugh it off because you've never watched me die.”
“Trust me, I'm not laughing.” Donna crossed her arms and pressed against the wall as hard as she could to be as far away from him as she could get.
“I've seen you die more times than I care to count.” Hunter paused and Donna continued to glower at him. “Then I wait for your return so I can find you again.”
“I see,” she said in an unconvincing tone. 
Hunter looked as exasperated as he sounded. “No, you don't see. You think I'm a lunatic who aims to kill you.”
Donna swallowed hard. Well, what would you think if you were me?
“I'd think that, too.” He sighed, reached for Donna's face. She tried to pull away but his gaze captured hers and before she could even shut her eyes, his memory slipped inside hers.
First, the words “Eternal Partners” pulsed through her mind like a heartbeat. Then, reflected in Hunter's eyes, a scene from the past that was as vivid to Donna as if she'd been there herself. Hunter was there, with shoulder-length hair and a thick beard, wearing bell-bottomed pants and a paisley shirt. He looked like a hippie, which made Donna giggle. A pretty, dark-haired girl was with him. She wore a floral wreath crown and a long, patchwork dress. Her laugh got caught up by the breeze and landed on poppy flowers nearby. They were barefoot in a wildflower field, enjoying their time together on a moonlit summer night while fireflies danced and a soft wind tickled stray hairs across her face. They chatted, she twirled, he laughed...and revealed a pair of fangs. They fell in the scented field and made love - she knew he adored everything about her. The scene was so peaceful, so pleasant, so ordinary...Her smile, the way her hand fit perfectly with his, how her second toe was just a little bit longer than her big one... The scene vanished.
“I don't want to leave,” Donna whispered.
“Shhhhhhh,” Hunter still held her face, but it was with a lighter touch now. 
In the next scene, Hunter was with the same girl, only her skin was chocolate and her hair jet black, thick, and wavy. Her eyes held the same happy glow as the girl in the earlier vision. It was nighttime and they were alone in a wooded area by a lake near an old car. Crackly Buddy Holly music blared from the radio. Hunter wore his hair slicked back and when he grinned, it was crooked. When he smiled, the tip of his fangs glistened against moonlight. He was so handsome in a white t-shirt and leather jacket. The girl's poodle skirt twirled while they danced. “Someday,” he whispered, “the world will see that love knows no color boundaries and we won't have to hide ours.”
Donna gasped. “That was before the civil rights movement.”
The vision faded and the next one arrived. It was midnight and the full moon hung low over the ocean. Hunter sat on a rock. He looked handsome in suspenders and a bowler hat. The pretty girl's hair was cropped and the color of fire, but her eyes were the same as ever. She spoke in a language Donna didn't understand. He beckoned her into the water for a late night swim. She disrobed clear down to her feet with the second toes that were longer than the first. The vision clouded just as she plunged in the ocean to meet him.
Hunter blinked, and Donna was back in her plain, ordinary bedroom with the purple comforter and colonial furniture.
“Wait,” she begged. “I want to go back. They were so happy.”
Hunter whispered. “They're us, Donna. And you're right. We were happy.”
“My toes...”
Hunter smiled wide. “Are always gorgeous.”
So all those women were her. She wished she could go back in time, talk to one of those earlier versions of herself and find out just how one goes about adjusting to being Eternal Partners with a vampire. Donna looked at Hunter.
“How did you become a vampire?”
His expression clouded. “Somebody I was close to Turned me.” 
Donna considered it.  A former lover?  
He chuckled.  “No.”  
Had there been other women? Donna wasn't sure how she felt about that. Hunter took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “The person who Turned me was my brother.”
She gasped. “Your brother? But why?”
Hunter pressed his finger to her lips. “Shhh, it doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me,” she said quietly.
“I’ll tell you all about it later.” Hunter's finger ran down Donna's arm. “Right now, I just want you to remember me. Remember us.” 
Remember us… 
She wanted to, but Donna's mind filled with everything she knew about vampires: holy water, garlic, the sun turning them to ash the very instant they were exposed to it. Plus, there was that famous vampire ability to seduce their prey...
Hunter chuckled again.
“What's so funny?” Donna frowned at him.
“You're not my prey, Donna. You're my Eternal Partner.”
“Quit doing that!”
“Doing what?” His eyebrows raised in mock innocence.
“You know what. Reading my mind.” Donna recalled the steamy things she'd thought about him. On second thought, sucking her blood might be the most humane thing he could do.
Hunter shrugged, somewhat apologetically. “It's one of those pesky vampire traits.”
“Well, if you don't mind and, even if you do, I don't like pesky vampire traits sifting through my thoughts.”
“Most vampires choose not to read thoughts,” Hunter explained. “We prefer staying out of the heads of mortals. It's a very noisy world for us otherwise.”
“Then why do you keep reading my mind?”
He apologized. “My close connection to you makes it hard for me not to know your mind. It's like trying to tune out your own thinking.” He winked. “If it makes any difference, you've never liked it.”
“Of course I haven't,” she snapped. “It's like my privacy's being invaded.”
He nodded. “That's what you always say. But it makes finding you so much easier. You can be anywhere on earth when you're reborn. So, I listen my way to you and once I find you, I work hard to shut it off. But,” he looked sternly at her, “it's not like a light switch.”
“Find me?”
“We've experienced many lifetimes together, a few of which you've just seen.” Hunter gently took Donna's hand and held it against his chest. “But when your heartbeat quits, mine does too. I take that awful silence for as long as I can before giving up and going to sleep.  I don't re-awaken until your heartbeat begins again. Its thumping in my chest wakes me up.”
Where does he sleep during all this time? Donna wondered. In a coffin?
Hunter chuckled. “In a bed.”
Donna groaned. “You did it again.”
“Sorry. It might take some time to get my head out of yours.  Anyway, once my heart begins to beat, it awakens me. Then I start seeking you again.”
“How long am I gone?”
“About two years, and I usually sleep through at least one of them.”
Sleeping for a full year…  “How do you find me?”
He kissed her hand.  “It always takes time, but the louder my heartbeat gets, the closer I know I'm getting to you. When I get really close, I can read your thoughts.”
“How close?”
He thought about it. “Ten miles, give or take.” He gazed in Donna's eyes and leaned toward her. Their lips met. He slowly pulled off her white blouse and lowered her on the bed. “I've waited so long for this,” his voice was low in her ear and his clove scent lingered around her. Donna's heart raced and so did Hunter's. He pulled off his shirt and there it was, right in front of her. His rippling chest.
“I've never done this before,” she whispered.
“It's always that way. Whether I find you at 19 or 29, you've waited.” He stroked her hair and with his other hand went under her bra.
“Hunter,” Donna sighed. But she didn't try to stop him when he unclasped the bra or when he lowered her black Capris. She didn't even try to stop him when he gently, slowly removed her panties. For the first time ever, she lay naked in front of a man and didn’t feel the urge to say no. Hunter's hands roamed across her breasts. He cupped each one, pulled the nipple in his mouth, and tickled it with his five-o-clock shadow. His fingers circled her belly button and his tongue tickled it. Hunter parted her legs and explored first with his fingers, then with his tongue. Donna's breathing was shallow and she moaned in pleasure. Everything tingled; her scalp, her tummy, even her goddess toes. An orgasm took Donna - she shuddered and lost control. Her fingers tangled in Hunter's hair. 
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I've never felt that good.”
Hunter grinned while removing his pants. “Yes, you have felt that good before. We have.” He gently lay on top of her and she loved the feel of his weight, the scent of his sweat, the taste of his kisses. But...
“Hunter -”
“It's okay,” his voice was melancholy. “I'm unable to reproduce.” Hunter's muscles flexed, making her want him even more than she'd thought possible. “Relax, we've been here before.” And as Hunter shuddered, so did she.
chapter eight


Morning sun screamed through the parted shades in Donna's bedroom window. She shielded her eyes, turned to the side and smiled. She expected Hunter to be lying next to her, his warm breath on her neck, his strong arms over her, like how it went in the movies after the first night a couple spent together. But instead of a gorgeous man in her bed, Donna faced an empty pillow.  And his clothes were gone. Hunter had gone away without sharing his last name or even his phone number. Great. Isn't that what always happened to a woman after giving her heart and soul to the man of her dreams? Donna stretched, got up, and took a long, slow shower. She got dressed, checked for a note, or a sign, or anything at all other than her soreness down there to let her know Hunter had actually spent the night. She found nothing. 
Lovely.
Then a memory came back to Donna.

“Someday you’ll meet two men.  One will sweep you off your feet and the other will knock you down.  Beware – they are from a dark place where mortals dare not tread.”

Hunter swept me off my feet and Stephen knocked me down…but Grandma said to beware of them both…  
Donna called Mo. 
“Hello, Donna,” Mo sounded sleepy.
“Hi, Mo. Are you busy today? Working?”
“The newspaper's closed on Sundays, you know that.” She yawned loud into the phone. “You're in some strange moods lately, Donna.”
Donna rubbed her temple to persuade an oncoming headache to just keep going. “Is it okay if I come over?”
“Of course it's okay, weirdo. Why wouldn't it be? Just give me an hour to get human.” 
Nobody was in the kitchen, so Donna made toast and listened to herself crunch it. Before she'd moved away, Donna had enjoyed Sunday mornings with her parents. The ritual had gone like this: Every other weekend Dad shuffled through the Sunday Times, sharing the department store circulars and comics with Donna.  Then he'd holler to Mom, “Hey Carol, listen to this...” and read something from the op-ed section that made Mom laugh or swear or sometimes both. Mom would set a plate of luscious-smelling, buttery, syrupy waffles in front of them and they'd all sit down together. The following weekend, Mom and Donna would play solitaire on the computer while Dad whipped up fried eggs and bacon. Once Donna got old enough, both parents sat at the table, each doing their own thing while Donna fixed her favorite family breakfast of blueberry pancakes slathered in butter and sour cream. 
Donna glanced toward the sink where she used to pour juice and coffee on those Sunday mornings. That's when the note caught her eye - a hastily scribbled thing on an envelope, displayed against the liquid soap bottle.
Donna,
Your father and I would like to talk with you at noon today. Please be here.
XO,
Mom.

Donna wadded up the note and threw it away. She grabbed her keys, put down the Mustang's top and screeched the tires out of the garage and into the warm, sunny morning light. The sky was crisp; tree leaves trembled in a light breeze and Mr. Thomas from down the street puttered around his yard on a riding lawnmower, making the whole street smell like fresh cut grass. Across from his house, three kids threw a ball to their Golden Retriever who barked excitedly and ran after it. Everybody was just going about with their business, perfectly content to enjoy their normal, stable lives, utterly clueless that a vampire had spent the night in their normal, stable neighborhood on Sunflower Street, and that vampire had taken Donna’s long-overdue virginity…then disappeared.
Jill's car wasn't in the driveway when Donna arrived at Mo's house, probably because Jill was at her second part time job. Donna wondered if that was how it would be for Mo when she became a single parent. She pushed that thought from her mind, knocked on the door, and when nobody answered, let herself in. 
Mo pulled a green t-shirt over her red head and thundered down the stairs, looking and sounding like a blazing Christmas tree tumbling down a mountainside.
“Geez, Donna. I said give me time to look human.”
Donna apologized and said Mo looked perfectly human as is. “But should you be running like that, I mean, in your condition?”
“Well you see,” Mo chuckled, “I'm pregnant, not terminal.” Donna reddened and looked at the ground. “It's not a disease and you don't have to be so weird about it. It's not like you can catch it from me.” She pretended to sneeze. “Oops! Now you're knocked up, too.” She chuckled some more.
“Fine,” Donna's voice held an edge. “Excuse me for being concerned about my best friend's health.”
Mo's nose crinkled. “What crawled up your ass today?” She trotted to the kitchen, pulled a can of soda from the fridge, popped it and guzzled. Donna hoped a prenatal doctor appointment would soon address the issue of eating for two. “So how'd the interview go?” Mo belched and then continued talking before waiting for Donna’s answer, which was fine by her since she didn't have one. “I really appreciate the use of your old car and you know your mom's going to have a fit, which makes me appreciate the gesture even more. Thanks.” Sometimes, when Mo's mouth smiled, her eyes did, too - like now. “You do seem like you're in a weird mood, though. Is something wrong?” 
Donna wasn't sure how to approach the subject of losing her virginity to a vampire, so she told Mo what Rochelle had said and how she suspected Samee had influenced her to say it.
“I'm not even sure if she's lying about Matt.” Donna shook her head. “What if it's true?”
“What a bitch!” Mo slammed her empty soda can on the counter, burped again.
“Mo, don't get so upset.” Donna didn't remember where, but she knew she'd read something about the first trimester being important for keeping stress in check. Mo pulled another soda, popped it, and offered Donna one. She shook her head.  Mo shrugged, slammed the fridge door shut, stormed to the living room and plopped down hard on the couch.
“Why would Rochelle say such bitchy things? You guys were friends, against my better judgment of course, but friends nonetheless.”
Donna shrugged. “I don't know, but I think Samee might have something to do with it.”
“I have always thought very little of Rochelle, as you know,” Mo tipped her soda can at Donna. “But this is low, even for her.” Donna agreed. She also wondered if Mo’s blood pressure was going to rise as a result of this little chat. She couldn't stand the idea of Mo's baby being born all screwed up because of Donna's bad day. “Speaking of Little Miss Sally Sunshine,” Mo set down her empty soda can and propped her feet on the coffee table. “When Jamie and I left the club the other night, she had herself latched like a barnacle to that guy we thought was the kidnapper. Kind of gross, if you ask me. He's practically old enough to be her dad.”
Donna's face paled. “Are you sure it was Hunter?”
“Who?”
“Hunter. The kidnapper – I mean the not kidnapper.”
Mo frowned. “Are you kidding? There's no mistaking that guy’s weird skin tone. Or freakish height. Trust me, it was him, and Sassie was wrapped around him like cling-wrap.”
“Samee,” Donna whispered then stumbled backward.
“Donna, what's wrong?” Mo pulled her to the couch and sat her down. Donna's mouth opened and her guts spilled out. She told Mo all about Hunter. That he took her home on Friday night and that they'd met at the park the night before.  That they’d made love. She told Mo everything. Well, almost. She didn't mention the fangs. Then she burst into tears. Mo pulled Donna close, rocked her, soothed her, and stroked her hair. Like Mom used to do. Maybe Mo had maternal instincts after all. “Are you going to be okay?” she finally asked.
“I'll never be okay,” Donna sniffed. “I should've known better than to trust him.” Mo nodded. But what did she know about any of that now? Mo had a nice guy who didn't double as a stripper pole for cute little high school girls.
Mo got up and paced the room. “I'm going to personally strangle that bitch.”
Donna rubbed away a tear. “Which one?”
“Both of them.” Mo's gaze locked on Donna. “Did you guys use a condom?” Donna shook her head and braced for one of Mo's “you should have known better even though I didn't” rants, but instead, Mo spoke gently. “If your period is late by even one hour, get a pregnancy test.”
“He said we couldn't get pregnant.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “Oh, bullshit. Listen and learn, Donna. Sex 101. Men will say anything to get a woman in bed.”
“Well,” Donna felt defensive, or stupid for believing Hunter. “Even if we had used a condom, it might not have mattered. Look what happened to you and James...Jamie. Whatever.”
“And I'm scared.” Mo tilted her head and laughed nervously. “What happens if I'm a bad mother? What if I put the diaper on my kid's head?” They laughed, which chased away the ghosts of two-timing ex-roommates, nightmare monsters and virginities lost to a so-called vampire. In fact, the more Donna thought about Hunter's story, the more ridiculous it seemed. How could she have ever believed it? Hunter probably slipped a hallucinogenic in her smoothie when they were at the park. Well, he certainly wouldn't get the chance to do it again. She'd learned her lesson, hopefully before it was too late. Donna glanced at Mo's belly, still flat as ever.
“You’ll be a good mom,” she assured her.
Jill showed up a few minutes later, loaded down with grocery sacks. Donna and Mo helped her whip up a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. It wasn't exactly like breakfast at home with her parents, but the sheer ordinariness of sizzling bacon and cracked eggs made Donna feel better. She loved how quickly the kitchen smelled like a greasy diner. Jill piled mountains of food on old, chipped plates - the kind Caroline McCormick would never allow in her kitchen.  Then all three women sat at the rickety table to eat and gossip and giggle and act like everything under the sun was good and fine and absolutely perfect exactly how it was. They talked about Jill's latest date, which made them laugh, and Mo's latest raise, which made them celebrate. 11:30 rolled around way too quickly.
“I have to go,” Donna said.  A note of sadness crept into her tone. Jill thanked her for helping with breakfast and hugged her for letting Mo borrow the Sentra.
“Call me later,” Mo winked. “And don't let that cheating freak anywhere near you again.”
“I doubt he'll even try,” Donna replied. And something about saying it out loud made the sting even more painful.

She sensed something was wrong the moment she pulled the Mustang in the driveway. Maybe it was because Dad's red Jeep was on the street, instead of in the driveway, where it was normally parked. Donna went inside and the feeling intensified the moment she crossed into the family’s formal living room.  The room had been showcased last year in “Massachusetts Masterpiece” magazine, just after Mom had hired a celebrated designer to “spiffy up the room for the holidays.” The spiffing up cost almost $30,000 and caused Donna's parents to not talk to each other from December 4 through New Year's Day. Now, both parents were perched like mannequins in that exquisite living room.  Dad looked uncomfortable in the brown leather club chair and Mom sat stiff-backed on the linen sofa. They looked up when Donna stepped in. Did they know about Hunter? Did they know he'd spent the night? Did they intend to give her the “not while you're living under our roof, young lady” lecture? She lowered herself in the overstuffed, Wedgwood blue chair, chewed on her fingernails and felt a tinge of resentment for her parents still having a say over what she did or who she did it with.
“I thought you got over that unbecoming habit,” Mom indicated toward Donna's nail biting. “Your father and I have decided to separate.” She looked toward Dad, perhaps for moral support, which was not forthcoming. His gaze was locked on the floor. “We think under the circumstances it would be for the best.”
“What circumstances?  The circumstances surrounding the mess I cleaned up in the kitchen?”
Dad cleared his throat. “We're not going into details at this time.” 
“Is this about Sam?” 
Mom and Dad looked surprised.  
“Of course it’s not about Sam, honey.” Dad finally said.  “It’s about a pair of people who are having – troubles.”  
Donna had never seen Dad look so old and tired. Mom, on the other hand, looked as crisp as ever. She never seemed to lose that about herself.
“Your father will be moving to the city, closer to his office.” 
A large suitcase set near Dad's feet. Donna frowned at it.
“Is it true, Dad?” He tried to give a reassuring smile. “So where does that leave me?” Donna looked from one parent to the other.
Mom spoke up. “You can stay here, with me.”
“That's not what I meant.”
Mom sighed. “Let's not make this any more difficult than it already is. You're hardly a child that needs to be coddled through her parents' separation. This is our decision and there's nothing more to say.”
Dad caught Donna's gaze and looked at her apologetically before getting up, miserably. “I'll be going.”
“So will I.” Donna tromped upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to shake the bookshelf. She sat on the bed with her arms crossed, waiting for her parents to acknowledge how their selfish choice would impact their only surviving offspring and to change their minds because of it. But instead of that, Dad's Jeep churned to life and pulled away from the sidewalk, followed a few minutes later by Mom's black Lexus, which emerged from the garage. After ten minutes of dreadful silence, Donna went downstairs and found another note on the kitchen counter.

Donna, 
I understand that this hurts you, but you're an adult and should strive to act like one. This is not about you.  It's about your father and me. 
Staying with a friend tonight,
Mom.

The last time Donna had checked, Mom had associates, co-workers, employees, a financial manager and family members. She did not have “friends.” But she was right about one thing. Donna was behaving childishly. If her parents didn't want to be part of this family anymore, what business was it of hers? She clenched her jaw, got back in her car and drove to Autumn Lane - to the dead-end road and the house that had kept secrets in and strangers out for as long as Donna could remember. 
But that was about to change.
chapter nine


Donna's heart pounded when she knocked on the thick, walnut front door, which took several moments to creak open.  She heard shuffling on the other side of it during her long wait.
“Hi, Donna.” Samee's head poked out and her gaze shifted, as if somebody on the inside, just out of Donna's view was talking to her. “I'm...I'm so surprised to see you here. I didn't know you knew where I live.”
“Your new friend Rochelle mentioned it. I need to talk with you, Samee.”
“How about tomorrow?” Samee's voice was high.
“I'd like to talk now. Can I come in?” Normally Donna would never be so challenging, but normal no longer described her life.
“Um,” Samee stammered. “It's a bit of a mess in here. Maybe...maybe we can go...get something to eat?” Samee grinned hopefully. Donna tried to look past her, but it was dark inside, almost pitch dark. What kind of family lived in the dark like that?
Donna's jaw clenched. “Fine, we can have lunch.” 
Even though I’m still full from breakfast at Mo's.
“Great,” Samee exhaled in relief.  
“Would you like me to come in while you get ready?”
“I'm ready now.” Samee dashed outside, slamming the door and then right in to Donna.
Donna examined Samee's feet. “What about shoes?”
“Don't need them.” She ran toward Donna's car, hopped off the lawn and landed squarely on the pebble driveway. “Ouch!” she exclaimed.
“That's what happens when you run around barefoot,” Donna said, as if she would know. Barefoot was for people with toes that made symmetrical sense. “Are you sure you don't want to grab some shoes, Samee? I'll wait.”
Samee's gaze darted toward the tightly shuttered windows. “No. I mean, I'm fine like this.”
“No restaurant is going to let you inside without shoes,” Donna persisted.
“Then we'll take the drive-thru.” Samee motioned for Donna to hurry. “Come on, let's go.”
Donna followed Samee to the car, but not before taking another look at the clamped windows. What was going on in that house? Was it a prison? A sex slave operation? With horror, Donna wondered if Samee's family could be responsible for the kidnappings.
This place is so private, tucked away back here behind a half acre of trees. 
She whirled around and hurried to the Mustang’s driver’s side door.
The drive to Barker's Burgers took fewer than five minutes, during which time Samee chattered about how much she loved school and how cute the boys were at The Dark Side. But she didn't mention a thing about what was behind the front door of her house at the dead-end of Autumn Lane, and she didn’t say a word about how she'd turned a perfectly normal ex-roommate into a mean-spirited, psycho-bitch.
They placed their order at the drive-thru. A brown-haired girl with multiple piercings and pale, flat eyes took Donna's money and handed her two drink cups and a couple of straws.
“Can you make sure my burger's well done?” Donna asked. The girl shrugged. “If you can, I'd appreciate it. I really can't stand rare meat.” Donna handed her $20.00. She went away, and then came back a few minutes later with the change and a bag. Donna said thanks then pulled forward and turned to Samee. “Why don't we go to The Commons and eat this?  New car and all.  I’d hate for the upholstery to get a mustard stain.”
“Sure. That sounds like fun.”   
Donna drove to the park and Samee scampered to a picnic table only a few feet away from the very bench where Donna and Hunter had sat together the night before. That made pain shoot through her heart, along with the desire to squish Samee's cute little face against a burger patty.
They sat and Donna plopped the bag on the table.
“You seem a bit tense,” Samee observed. “Are you okay?”
“Not exactly.” Donna opened the bag and passed out the contents.
“What's wrong?” Samee grabbed a handful of fries and shoveled them in her mouth.
“Quite a few things, actually.” Donna pierced the straw through her iced tea lid.
“I'm sorry to hear that.” Samee looked at Donna with innocent green eyes and unfolded the wrapper around her burger. “Yum. I love Barker's Burgers.”
“And it all started the very same day I met you.”
“Huh,” Samee took a huge bite of her hamburger.
Donna sipped her drink. “Why did things start getting strange the very same day I met you, Samee?” 
Samee shrugged, pointed apologetically to her full mouth. Donna folded her arms and watched patiently while Samee chewed the burger bite, swallowed it and pulled on her soda straw to wash it down. Then she cocked her head and grinned.  Donna suddenly knew what the saying cute-as-a-bug's-ear meant.
“I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't.” Samee grabbed another handful of fries. “Mmmm.”
“Yes, you can tell me. It's called opening your mouth and letting the words spill out.” Samee shook her head and took another gulp of soda. Donna rubbed her temples. “I'm tired of being in the middle of everything, but informed about nothing. I'm like a secret agent without a clue.” 
Samee took another bite of burger. After she swallowed, she stared at Donna and then sighed. 
“Okay, I'll tell you. But Hunter is going to be really pissed.”
“So Mo was right,” Donna accused. “You do know Hunter.”
Samee grabbed another handful of fries. “He's like my big brother.”
“That's really sick, considering what Mo saw at The Dark Side.” 
Samee stopped chewing long enough to shoot Donna a puzzled look. She swallowed and then belched. But not like Mo. Samee cupped her hand over her mouth and expelled quietly. 
“What did Mo see?” she asked.
“You mauling all over Hunter.”
Samee squished up her nose. “Ew.”
“Ew, indeed.”
Samee giggled. “Does your friend always see the worst possible meaning in every situation?”
“Mo wouldn't lie to me.” Except about having a boyfriend…and being pregnant...
“Whatever she saw, it certainly was not me mauling Hunter.” Samee shuddered, filled her mouth with food again.
“How do you know him, Samee?”
Samee took another large swallow of soda and stuffed her mouth with the last of the fries. She chewed for a long time - almost as if she were mulling over an answer. She finally swallowed.
“Thanks for lunch, Donna.”
Donna nodded. “You were quite hungry.”
“Not really.”
Donna took a bite of her burger. It was rare, of course. “Are you going to tell me how you know Hunter?”
“He's going to kill me anyway, so I'll just tell you everything.” Samee belched again, equally polite as before. “I was five years old at the time.” Apparently, she really did intend to tell Donna everything. “My sister, Ashley, who was 17, said she had a secret to tell me. She said I was going to be an aunty. I was only five, so I didn't understand what that meant. She pointed to her tummy and told me there was a baby in there and that I could be like the baby's big sister. I remember going to bed and curling around my stuffed teddy bear and feeling like the luckiest girl in the world because I had a big sister and I was going to be a big sister. You know how kids are.  I thought the next time I woke up it would be just like that. But later that night, a terrible noise woke me up. It was a crash, then a scream. It was dark and I couldn't see anything.” Samee's eyes were heavy with tears.  
“Here you go,” Donna gave her a napkin.
“Thanks.” Samee smiled sadly. “I heard footsteps. Thick, heavy footsteps. They weren't familiar footsteps and they sounded bad so I hid under my bed. The light in the hall was on and I was so scared when the shadow of those footsteps crossed in front of my door. I heard another scream - it sounded like Ashley. I knew something was wrong and I knew it had to do with those boots. They thumped back down the hall and stopped right in front of my bedroom door. The door creaked open and I screamed for my dad. Then the next thing I knew, cold hands clenched around my arm and yanked me out from under the bed. I tried to scream but I was so scared that no sound came out. At the age of five, I was faced with pure evil - and it had the most hateful eyes I've ever seen. It's been ten years and I still see those eyes in my nightmares. And his teeth -” Samee shuddered, “he smelled like death.”
Like the man in my nightmares.
“He laughed at me and said, 'Now that your parents and sister are dead, it's your turn.' I remember thinking that he didn't mention the baby in Ashley's tummy.  So I hoped the baby was all right. I scratched at his face, but he slapped mine. Everything went black and the next thing I remember was falling. He dropped me. Then there were people fighting. I covered my eyes and refused to watch the fight, but I could smell it. To this day I can smell a fight from a mile away.  It smells kind of like acid.” Samee took a deep breath, closed her eyes. “That's when the other voice said, 'I'll find a way to kill you if it's the last thing I do' and I thought that meant me. But instead of being killed, I was pulled up by a pair of warm, strong arms. They weren't familiar arms.  The person who owned them didn't smell like my dad. Dad smelled like shampoo and this man smelled like spices.”
Like Hunter.
“I opened my eyes to a pair of black ones staring back at me.” Samee stopped again, blew her nose. The tears started to clear.
“Was the man who saved you -?”
Samee nodded. “Hunter.” She balled up the napkin and tucked it next to her pile of lunch wrappers. Donna looked down, poked a bit at her food, but didn't eat anything. When she looked up, Samee's chin was resting in her palms and she was watching a baseball game on the nearby diamond. Every so often, people in the bleachers cheered and a smile crossed Samee's face.
“Do you like baseball?” Donna asked.
Samee shook her head. “I'm not much for sports.  I just like watching people - especially when they're happy.”
“For all you've been through, you still focus on the good stuff.”
“I focus on what I want,” Samee grinned. “And what I want is for everybody to be happy.”
“So,” Donna asked carefully, “What happened to your family?”
Samee sighed. “They were all killed…just like the monster promised, even the baby in Ashley's tummy. If it hadn't been for Hunter, I would've been killed too.”
“Who was the monster?”
“I don't know.”
Donna swallowed hard and hoped this next question didn't make Samee think Donna was entirely crazy. “Was he a...vampire?”
Samee shrugged as if the question was a completely normal one. “Maybe. Hunter knows, but he refuses to discuss it.” Samee balled up the burger wrapper. “I'm not one, in case you were wondering.”
“Not one of what?”
“A vampire,” her tone was almost regretful.  So there it was.  Proof that vampires were real.   
“But, isn't that a good thing?” Donna finished the last of her fries and took a sip of iced tea.
“It is a good thing for me, but it's a bad thing for Hunter.” Samee shook her head. Sunlight caught the colors in her hair and made them dazzle strawberry and almond. “I'm a mortal, and mortals are weak.  I'm weakness to him.” Samee stuffed the burger wrapper inside the empty drink cup.
“You're not a weakness,” Donna said assuredly. “You're a reminder of his own mortality.”
Samee shrugged. “Maybe. But I'm still a mortal who can be killed in so many ways. Hunter worries about me. He also blames himself for what happened to my family. He thinks that if he had gotten there sooner, maybe he could've stopped the attacks from happening.”
“He can't blame himself for that.”
Samee gave Donna a ‘you-know-Hunter’ grin. “So he's taken care of me ever since, and you should see some of the places he's taken me. We've moved around a lot.” 
“Why?” Donna gobbled her food now that she knew Hunter wasn't dating the high school girl sitting across the picnic table.
“Because we were looking for you, silly.” Samee said it as if it should have been obvious. “He went by his heartbeat. The louder it got, the closer he knew he was to finding you. All the while, Hunter talked about his Eternal Partner - how kind and beautiful and smart she is. I was so excited to finally meet you.”
Donna thought about it. “Did you meet me on purpose that day when I almost ran over you?”
“It was Hunter's idea that I bump into you, but he didn't intend for it to be literally.” Samee giggled. “He wanted me to find out about you.  But I'd have wanted to know you anyhow. I like you, Donna. You're great.”
“Thanks,” Donna smiled. “Why did Hunter want you spying on me?”
“It wasn't so much spying as keeping tabs on your habits. Hunter was just trying to keep his distance.”
“Well, that certainly explains his bitchy attitude toward me at The Dark Side.”
Samee laughed so hard that it made her snort like a donkey, which caught the attention of a young mom with two kids who were playing on the swing set where Donna had sat that fateful night. “Actually, that hardly explains his bitchy attitude at all.”
Donna pulled her knees to her chest then chewed the finger nails on her right hand. “Is Hunter often bitchy?”
“As far as I'm concerned, he always is. And it can't all be blamed on the fact that he's a vampire, because I know other vampires and they don't all act that way.”
Donna looked at the ground. “He tried to avoid me.”
Samee shook her head. “Hunter thought he was doing right by you. Every time he gets involved in any of your lives, they get crazy. So he wanted to step back and let you finally have a normal one.”
Donna nodded. “I do want a normal life.”
“You might want it, and Hunter might want it for you. But the fact is you're Eternal Partners with a vampire. A normal life's not in the cards.”
Donna raised an eyebrow. “Spoken like someone who was raised by a guy who doesn't do daylight.”
Samee shrugged. “And yet, I'm none the worse for it.” How she knew that was beyond Donna. After all, the girl lunged at moving cars and dashed around town barefoot. 
A nearby tree branch shook. Donna looked up to see a squirrel busying itself with winter preparations. The squirrel knew what was coming and how to face it. That was how her life should have been. Neat, tidy, and prepared. Instead, it was confusing, maddening and full of questions like, “What blood type goes best with a romantic, steak dinner?” 
“I'm going to choke Hunter for trying to make me live my life without him,” she said.
Samee giggled again. “Ever since we moved in that stupid old house, I've been telling him you'd say that.”
“Hunter lives in that big house...” The darkness, the closed shutters, it all made sense now. 
“If you can call it a house,” Samee wrinkled her nose.
“Are you kidding me? All those improvements you've done are amazing.”
“The outside looks fine, but the inside is a different story.” Samee smiled, and now Donna understood what grinning ear-to-ear meant. “But I don't care about that anymore now that you're finally here. It's going to be nice to have another mortal around - especially one who understands Hunter.”
“I haven't even begun to understand that guy yet.” 
Samee giggled, then so did Donna. In fact, they giggled until an old guy with a yapping, white poodle walked by and stared hatefully at them, which made them giggle more. 
Once the giggling stopped, Donna bit her lip and asked the next question. “What's going on between you and Rochelle?”
Samee quietly belched again, like a perfect little lady.  It was so entirely unlike Mo's foghorn approach. “I hate to be the one to tell you this...”
“Is Rochelle a vampire?” 
Samee shook her head no which made Donna sigh in relief.   “She’s a minion,” Samee explained, “which is worse.”
“What could be worse than being -?” Donna clamped a hand over her mouth.
Samee smiled sadly. “He knows you would rather he be mortal.”
“It would simplify things,” Donna admitted, but then Samee gave her a look that suggested it probably wouldn't. Donna chewed on her thumb nail. “Okay, then. What's a minion?”
“Minions are mortal servants in the Underworld,” Samee carefully brushed away a ladybug that had landed on her forearm. “In this situation, Rochelle has become the servant to an Underworld creature.”
Donna shook her head. “What would make Rochelle do such a thing?”
“What would make Rochelle do anything at all? She did it for eternal beauty.” 
“You’re kidding.”  Donna stared in horror. 
Samee shook her head.  “Nope.  Let me explain.  A mortal human becomes a minion by selling their soul for a certain price. It can be money, fame, a chance to bring back a loved one - anything at all that means a lot to the mortal.”
That didn't explain anything. “What does a vampire want with Rochelle's soul?”
“It doesn't have to be a vampire. It could be a zombie, or a demon, or any Underworld creature.  They all have the power to buy souls. In fact, soul stealing and swapping has a huge black market.  You see,” Samee explained, “Underworld creatures have no souls but they crave them. So they purchase or steal them from humans like Rochelle who see more value in what they don't have than in what they do. It's basic economics.  Rochelle may have no soul, but she will look beautiful, right up until the day she dies.”
Donna shook her head, contemplating demons and zombie and whatever else might be Out There. “So Rochelle can never get her soul back? The vampire – or whatever - who bought it gets to keep it forever?”
“Well, not forever,” Samee said.
“There's a chance Rochelle could get her soul back?”
“Not at all. The undead world is hard on souls. Eventually, Rochelle's will become exhausted and empty. Then it will wither and die.”
“Die?” Donna shouted the word loud enough that the mom with the kids on the swing sent her a harsh look.
Samee nodded sympathetically. “The Underworld has impossible conditions when it comes to soul health. Eventually, Rochelle's soul will get the life sucked out of it by its host. Then the creature will need to search for another one.”
Donna cringed. “How long does it take for an Underworld creature to suck the life out of a soul?”
“That depends on how quickly it devours the soul. Some Underworld inhabitants crave souls daily. Others might take years between fixes.”
“So it's like an addiction?”
Samee thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. But I tend to think of it as a binge. Sometimes you just have to have that candy bar and then other times, you don't. See?”
Donna saw. Rochelle's soul was nothing more than candy in the hands of monsters. “Who did Rochelle sell her soul to?”
Samee shrugged. “The kidnapper, maybe.  Who knows?”
“Is the kidnapper a vampire?”
Samee nodded. “I thought you knew that, Donna. He's the one Hunter's been chasing all these years.”
“I thought Hunter was trying to find me.”
Samee nodded emphatically. “It just so happens that the kidnapper and you always end up in the same place.”
“Well that's an interesting coincidence,” Donna frowned.
Samee nodded as if it were as interesting as watching eggs boil. “Anyhow, I'm not entirely certain who Rochelle sold her soul to. And even if I was, it wouldn't make any difference. Souls are traded in the Underworld like stocks are on Wall Street. There's no way of telling where Rochelle's soul has gone now that she's sold it.”
“How do you know she sold it? Did she tell you?”
“Of course not, silly.” Samee giggled, then sucked in a breath when she saw Donna's disturbed stare. “Sorry. A person usually doesn't even have a conscious awareness that they've sold their soul.” A couple of teenagers playing Frisbee tossed the disc and it landed on Donna and Samee's table.  Donna didn't even notice until Samee threw it back and hollered, “Be careful, please. You almost hit my friend in the head.”
Donna rubbed her temples. “Rochelle doesn't know what she's done? The other minions? They don't know, either?”
“There's no guarantee they don't know, but it's quite possible. People sell their soul all the time without realizing it.”
Would I realize it? 
“Does Hunter want my soul?”
“Why would he want just your soul when he can have all of you?” Before Donna got a chance to think that one through, Samee looked at her phone. “It's getting late.” She looked hopefully at Donna. “Would you mind taking me to the grocery store? Just once, it would be nice to go shopping in broad daylight.”
“You can't shop in the daylight?”
“My ride to the store can't.”

chapter ten


Samee chattered all the way to the store about how great it would be when she could finally get her driver's license, how cute the boys in West Windington are, and her stupid biology class. But one thing she wouldn't discuss – vampires.
“I just want a normal conversation for a change,” she insisted. “Is that so wrong?” Donna shook her head and smiled. Normal seemed like a good goal to her, too. Samee turned her attention to The Dark Side and how she hoped she could go back there soon because the people were so fun.  Donna smiled politely, parked at the store, and Samee bolted from the car like a kid at a carnival. The driver of a passing Subaru even squealed his brakes to avoid hitting her. “Sorry!” she waved, but without stopping to see what else might be coming around the next turn. 
Donna found Samee in the produce aisle a few minutes later.  She had one hand on a shopping cart and the other clutching an orange, which she sniffed.
“Mmm, thanks Donna.  You don't know what this means to me.” 
“You’re right,” Donna chuckled.  “I don’t.”
“Vampires aren't big eaters,” Samee explained. “Hunter doesn't notice any difference between a tomato and a potato. Sometimes, I'll be craving chocolate and he'll bring home a bran muffin. When I complain, he says, 'Geez, Samee, they're the same color, why do you have to be so picky?'” She eyeballed the mangoes and licked her lips. “The fact is, sending a vampire out for a mortal's meal is like taking a gorilla to the prom.” She giggled at that, and then meandered around the store with such childlike wonder that Donna didn't have the heart to investigate some of her pressing concerns, like how many pints of blood Hunter usually drank for breakfast, and what effect it would have if she pelted him with garlic cloves.
After two and a half hours of watching Samee shake cereal boxes and fondle marshmallow bags, Donna asked, “Why aren't you putting anything in the cart?”
“I don't have money on me.” Samee snuggled with a package of T-bone steaks while Donna glanced toward the front and watched customers.  Through the plate glass windows, Donna watched a police car slowly cruise by.
“Samee, what do you know about a man in a blue Toyota?” Samee set down the meat and looked over Donna's shoulder.
“Oh my God!” she gasped.
“What?” Donna whirled around.
“The make-up aisle!” Samee scrambled to it and Donna followed. “Hunter is so impatient when I try to pick out colors in a store, but you'll let me browse, right?” 
“Well, I suppose it can’t do any harm.”
Samee grinned ear-to-ear again.  “Thanks, Donna.  You really are wonderful.”  She pulled a mascara tube from its display hanger. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to guess the best lip tone on a computer screen?” Donna admitted she didn't. Samee replaced the mascara tube back on its hanger. “What did you ask me about something blue?”
“Do you know anything about a dead man in a blue Camry?”
Samee curled her lip. “A blue what?”
“Car.”
Samee plucked a four-pack of eye shadow from a different hanger. “No, why?”
Donna thought about it for a moment while Samee squinted at the eye shadow shades. “How about a big, scary-looking guy with a gun who drives an old Bronco and shoots people?”
“Bronco?”
“An SUV thing, with a roll bar. It's black. And the guy murders people, Samee. Do you know him?”
Samee held the eye shadow to her face. “Do you think this color would look good on me?”
“Yes,” Donna nodded. “Earth tones suit you.”
She beamed. “Thanks! I'm going to make Hunter buy this for me the next time we come shopping. I don't know the gun guy personally, but I know who he is.”
“Who is he?”
“One of Hunter's friends.” 
Donna gasped. “Hunter is friends with a murderer?”
Samee shrugged. “Well, not really friends in the normal sense, they actually hate each other. The guy's a contract killer.”
“That's awful,” Donna mused. 
Samee nodded. “Hunter hires him from time to time.” She squealed. “Look, eyeliner's on sale.”
Donna swallowed hard. “Hunter hires contract killers?” 
“Not killers, just killer. He only uses that guy.” Samee grinned. “I think purple eyeliner would look good on you.”
Just that guy...
“What about the cops, Samee?”
“They're a bunch of stupid minions,” she scoffed. “Look at this lip color.” She held it to Donna's face. “This would look so good on you.”
“Great,” Donna said absently. “Are you saying the cops are all working for the kidnapper?”
Samee shook her head and put the lipstick tube back on its display hanger. “Not all the cops.”
“So there's hope I can find one in town that’s not corrupt.”
“I wouldn't bet on it. The cops who aren't minions for the kidnapper are probably minions for the mayor.”
“Mayor St. James?”
Samee nodded, scrutinized make-up brand names. “That one makes my eyes leak. The mayor's a vampire too, you know.”
“No,” Donna replied reflectively. “I didn't know. Mo's going to have a field day with that information.”
Samee frantically shook her head. “Don't breathe one word of this to your friend, or to anyone. It's bad enough I'm telling you and it's really important to mortals that the mayor's not implicated.”
“Too late. Mo already suspects the mayor's involved.” Not only that, but once Mo was on a roll, there was no stopping the avalanche.
“That friend of yours could be too nosy for her own good.” Samee glanced behind Donna and groaned. “Oh, brother. Here comes one now. Act normal.”
“One what?” And what was normal anymore? Donna whirled around when a male voice came from behind. 
“Can I help you ladies find something?” He was large and half-bald, wearing a plaid shirt that fit too tight, a name tag that read “Chet Smith: Assistant Manager,” and a scowl. He approached and focused his vapid eyes on Donna. “It's been brought to my attention that you two have been wandering the store for several hours and have yet to make a single selection.” He glowered at Donna, which made her cringe. Then he focused on Samee, whose eyes were level with his chest. “Shoes are required in this store, young lady.”
Samee poked a finger deliberately at his barrel chest, glared up at him. “We're allowed to browse for as long as we want. And if you don't leave us alone, I'll stick my shoeless foot up your butt. How does that sound, mister ass-man?”
“I'm...I'm sorry, miss.” His voice shook and his color drained. He backed down the aisle, his gaze focused and unblinking, on Samee. At the end of the row, he turned and scurried away. Donna turned to Samee, her mouth gaping in surprise.
“You have to talk that way to the minions,” Samee explained. “If you don't, they can get pretty intimidating.” Donna considered her own recent experience at the police station. Intimidating didn't even begin to describe what it felt like when a bear-sized cop held a gun on you. “We should probably get going anyhow,” Samee rolled her eyes like Mo, “or Hunter will start annoying me with 'Where are you and what are you doing?' phone calls.” 
Considering all the minions, soul stealers and contract killers out there, Donna could hardly blame him. 
“Does Hunter ever worry about you wandering around all alone during the day?” she asked.
“You have no idea.” Samee giggled. “But you will soon enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, in the dictionary under the word 'overprotective' there's a picture of Hunter. Now, come on.  Let’s get home before dark.” Samee pulled Donna toward the exit. On their way, they passed Chet Smith: Assistant Manager, who slunk against the cat litter display when Samee trotted by. 
One thing about minions, they look like half the people in West Windington.  
“Hey Samee, what criteria do Underworld creatures use to pick minions?”
“It depends on their needs and what the minion has to offer. The mayor likes having cops on his side,” she explained. “It's good for corruption.”
“What about Hunter?” Donna asked with trepidation. “Does he take minions?”
Samee shrugged. “I've never known him to, but then again, that's not the kind of thing a vampire would discuss with his mortal kid sister.”  Samee thanked Donna for being mortal. “It's great to shop with somebody who knows the difference between rice cakes and cupcakes.”

They were just pulling out of the store’s parking lot when the white Honda just ahead of them backed up and crashed right into the front grille of Donna's Mustang.
“Hey! Asshole!” Donna yelled. The driver got out of the car and glowered. His eyes held that now-familiar, vapid look.
“It's another minion,” Samee warned.
“Why are they everywhere all of a sudden?”
“It just seems like they're everywhere because they're everywhere that you are.” She opened the passenger door to get out.
“I'll handle this,” Donna said.
“Are you sure? That's a pretty big minion.”
“I'm a pretty pissed off Mustang owner.” Donna jumped out, slammed the door shut and faced the minion, who loomed before her. His nostrils flared and a vein in his forehead throbbed.
“You ran in to me,” he sneered.
Donna swallowed hard and took a step back. Then she changed her mind. If little Samee could do this, then so could she. 
“No,” she snapped. “You backed into me.” She pushed an index finger against his collar bone. “I'll shove my foot up your butt, asshole!”
His mouth hung open in surprise.  He muttered an apology then hurried back to his car and screeched the tires when he fled the parking lot. 
Donna grinned and turned to Samee. “That was kind of fun.” Samee nodded vigorously then giggled. But the fun wore off quickly when Donna observed the Mustang's cracked front grille and injured fender.
“It wasn't your fault,” Samee assured her.
“It won't make any difference to the lawyer.” 
“Who?”
“My mother,” Donna grumbled.  They got back in the car. “Samee, why are minions everywhere that I am?”
Samee pulled out a stick of gum, offered one to Donna.  She shook her head no. 
“Because they've been instructed to watch you,” Samee said.
“Why?”
Samee chomped on the gum. “I dunno. But my guess is these minions are learning your habits.”
Donna glanced at her. “Kind of like what you were doing with me.”
“Kind of,” she popped a gum bubble. “But I'm not a minion.”
“If you don't mind my saying so,” Donna frowned at Samee. “You seem awfully casual about this minion stuff.”
“You get used to it.” Another pop.
“So, the minions follow you, too?”
“Oh yes, they've followed me.” Samee chomped some more and then she giggled. “I'm the little sister of one of the greatest vampires ever.”
“Then maybe the minions we just ran into are focusing on you, instead of me.”
“Nope,” Samee said confidently.  She sucked sugar from the gum. “I said minions have followed me. They haven't done it for a long time now.”
Donna stopped at a red light then looked at Samee's profile. It was cute-as-a-bug's-ear, too.  “What made the minions stop following you?”
“Hunter.”
“Hunter?”
“Uh huh. Hunter has connections. He can make the minions stop.”
So there was hope. “How can he make them stop?”
Samee popped another bubble. “He hires the contract killer.”
“That’s awful,” Donna exclaimed.  “Isn't there any other way besides killing people?”
“Not people, minions.”
“Well for hell’s sake Samee, what is a minion if not a person?” The light turned green, but Donna didn't notice until the driver in the car behind them honked. 
“Be careful of being emotional about minions,” Samee cautioned. “Now that you're in Hunter's world, you can't keep thinking like a normal mortal. It's no longer about good people and bad people. Now it's about Underworld people, too.” Samee glanced sternly at Donna. “Some of which will chew you up and spit you out if you don't grow a thick skin.” They rounded the corner of Autumn Lane just as the sun dropped below the horizon and a text arrived on Samee's phone. “It's from Hunter,” she said. “He’s wondering where we are.  I told you so. Hunter's got a seriously overactive protective side.” 
“So it appears.”  Donna pulled the Mustang in at the circular drive.  
“I have an idea,” Samee bubbled. “Wait here.” She hopped out of the car, dashed toward the front door, exclaiming “Ow, ow, ow, ow” every time her feet made contact with the rocks. Donna stepped out and peered angrily at the Mustang's grille. Her perfect car, marred because of a stupid minion. Where was that hit man when she needed him? She startled herself at that thought, shook it from her head, and sauntered to the porch and up the steps. Just as she prepared to knock, the front door creaked open and Hunter emerged.
“What did Samee tell you about me?” He sounded surly, like on that first night.
Donna folded her arms. “She told me vampires trade souls on the Underground market.”
“I don't want your soul, Donna.”
“That's good, because I don't intend to give it to you.”  She stood with her feet firmly planted.
“Don't you get it yet?” Hunter's eyes focused closely on Donna. “My soul didn't die when I Turned. It merged with yours.” 
“Why do you get to share a soul, but other vampires don't?”
“Because I got lucky.” Hunter leaned against the porch rail and crossed his arms.  It made his muscles flex, and Donna tried not to notice. “I found my Eternal Partner before being Turned. Most don't. My craving for a soul is every bit as consuming as other vampires. The difference is, I swallow my hunger and wait for your rebirth.”
“Fine,” she said, even though she wasn't sure it really was. “Why do you hire somebody to shoot innocent people?”
Hunter scoffed. “Those people aren't innocent. They gave up their soul in exchange for service to the Underworld.”
“You put the hit on that Toyota guy, didn't you? He's dead because you called in his number.”
“A minion's dead, and yes, I made the call.” 
“A minion's dead and it's my fault,” Donna's tone filled with anguish. “I told you to stop him and that's how you did it.” 
“How else did you expect me to stop him, Donna?” Hunter glowered. “Send him a pretty-please invitation?”
Donna's tone was icy. “I see how this works.”
“Don't be so sure about that.  There are lots of things you've been relieved from seeing up until now.” Hunter's gaze weighed deeply upon hers. “Now that you and I are reconnected, you really will start to see, I'm sorry to say.”
“How will I ever see why you hire people to kill other people?”
“Would you rather I didn't, so that you could be the victim instead?”
“Well, no. But...” Donna trailed off.
“But maybe now you can see why I tried to spare you from it in this lifetime,” Hunter's tone tried to be soothing, though to Donna it just sounded patronizing. His look softened and his arms opened to embrace her. A slow smile crossed her face and she stepped into the hug. He held her close and she felt warm and safe, cradled in his embrace. He smelled so good, too. Donna didn't know why, but the moment Hunter held on to her, she felt different...like if he wanted her soul he could take it, and if he wanted to hire guys to gun down minions on her behalf, well then that was fine by her, too. Everything that was wrong fell away and all that remained felt right. 
“I'll make you a deal,” Hunter whispered. “Tonight, it's just you and me. No minions, monsters, or other intrusions. Tomorrow, I'll explain everything.”
“But-”
“Please,” he implored. “I just want it to be you and me tonight.” When he looked at her with those big, dark eyes and flashed that crooked smile, Donna couldn't resist.
chapter eleven


Donna woke up feeling disoriented. It seemed like morning, but her bedroom was dark as midnight. She quickly figured out why. The curtain was drawn tight and the extra blanket from her closet had been draped over the window. Donna yawned, stretched, rolled over and smacked right against Hunter. She smiled.
“You stayed.”
Hunter grinned. “Of course I stayed.”
Donna hugged him and he kissed the end of her nose. She rolled on top of him and electricity shot between them.  Donna knew what the day's plans should be. Hunter, her, and endless hours of lounging around in bed with nothing on but the sheets, and nothing to do but...
“Oh crap,” she moaned.
“What?” Hunter frowned.
“It's Monday. And I really shouldn’t miss class.”
“I don't care what day it is.  You're not going anywhere.” Hunter rolled his arms around Donna and held on tight.
“With logic like that, it's hard to disagree.” And with a body like that... 
He snickered.  
Stop reading my mind, she thought.  Then she chuckled and kissed him.
They made love, and after that Donna dozed peacefully in Hunter's arms. No nightmare men, no minions, no separated parents. But she was startled back to consciousness when the front door slammed shut and the ticking of Mom's high heels crossed the foyer's tile floor. Her voice wound up the stairs. And there was a man's lower voice, too, probably Dad's. But when they passed Donna's closed bedroom door, the man's voice didn't sound familiar. Plus, Mom called him Brad, not Mike. Donna's parents’ bedroom door opened, Mom giggled and Brad said, “Just you wait until I get you in bed.”  Then the door clicked shut.
The “circumstance” my parents didn’t want to discuss has a name.  
“How could she?” Donna glared at Hunter, like he would know. “How could she cheat on Dad?” Hunter's expression was concern, and it occurred to Donna that he might be worrying what would happen if one half of a shared soul lost its mind.
“Shhhh,” he warned. “It's probably best not to complicate things by letting her know you know.”
“I suppose you're right.”  Even though all I want to do is burst in on them and call Mom on her bullshit.  Donna glanced at Hunter.  “You suck blood from mortals, don't you?” 
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “We call it feeding and I don't have to do it often.”
“When was the last time you fed?”
“I had a bowl of cereal yesterday with Samee. Or maybe it was spaghetti. I don't remember. Either way,” Hunter ran his hands through his hair, “I don't need to feed right now, and even if I did, I wouldn't go drain your mother's new boyfriend out of spite on your behalf.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”
“But aren't Eternal Partners supposed to do things for each other?”
Hunter's chest rose when he inhaled. “I won't hurt other people for my Eternal Partner.”
“Except guys in blue Camrys.”
His brow lowered. “That's different. And this topic is over.”
“Fine, then.”  Donna raised an eyebrow. “Here's a different one. Do you feed from females?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, stop it.”
Hunter chuckled. “It doesn't work that way.”
“Then how does it work?”
He scoffed. “Not like how they show in the movies.”
“You mean the gorgeous vampire making his sexually depraved moves on the innocent female?” Donna smirked.
Hunter stuck out his tongue then lay back with his arms folded behind his head, which made his bicep muscles even more distinct. 
“Common mortal thinking is that crosses repel vampires,” he explained.  “What they don't tell you is that crosses will only repel those vampires who were repelled by the sight of a cross before the Turn. In fact, I know a vampire who is also a Catholic priest.”
“That's funny,” Donna giggled quietly. “Does he live around here?”
Hunter grinned lopsidedly. “Vampires are everywhere, and often where you would least expect us.”
“Yeah, like in my bedroom.” Donna's grin turned devilish. “So, if Hollywood exaggerates,” she said hopefully, “does that mean sunlight doesn't really kill vampires?”
“No, it kills us pretty quick.”
“Oh,” she tried to hide her disappointment.
“It's just like how it is with mortals. Some vampires are more sun-sensitive than others. If they burned easily before the Turn, they will fizzle to dust quickly as a vampire.”
Hunter's skin was quite pale. Donna swallowed hard. “How long is it for you?”
“I’ve never tested it to its extreme, of course.  I did once get trapped in direct sunlight for a full five seconds, though.” He grinned hopefully. “You know, there is a way around the sunlight sensitivity factor.” Donna's eyes lit up. “But it's not foolproof and it's not easy to acquire. Only one man has access to the best recipe for it. So he sells it at a high price, as you might imagine.”
“I imagine anybody like that must be a real asshole.”
Hunter laughed. “That he is, my dear. But he's also just making a living.”
Mo would certainly have something to say about a person making a living by denying people something that could improve their life - like hoarding the cure for cancer. Donna crossed her legs and held Hunter's hand. “Tell me about this sunscreen.” 
“It comes in pill form,” Hunter explained. “But even when a vampire takes one, going out in the sunlight provides certain dangers that staying in the shadows doesn't.” 
“Such as?”
“Probably the most important example is that a vampire's intuitive powers diminish quickly. We can even lose track of time, which is especially dangerous in sunlight. We also weaken quickly. Sunlight saps our energy.” He grinned lopsidedly, and if Donna could read his expressions like he could read her mind, she’d say his grin was also apologetic.
“Do you have any of those sunscreen pills on you now?”
“I do.” Hunter reached for his pants and pulled a small plastic pill bottle from the pocket and handed it to her. She popped open the bottle’s lid and saw three, tiny green capsules inside. “I use them only for emergencies. As I just said, these pills are hard to come by and they’re expensive.”
“How long does a pill work for?” she asked hopefully.
“About five minutes.” Hunter detected Donna's disappointment and looked at the floor. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's just part of who I am.”
“I know...”
Emotions drifted across Hunter's face like icebergs in a tumultuous ocean. “It's okay. We've been through this before.” They may have been through it before, but that didn't make Donna feel any less ashamed of herself now. Still, she needed to know more.
“Do people just let you latch onto their necks?”
Hunter laughed despite his dour mood. “I hate to disappoint you sweetheart, but most of us don't extract blood from helpless people, though some vampires will resort to hypnosis if they're in extreme hunger. Most times, we can slip up to a person while they're sleeping.”
“At night? You visit women then?”
“When I need the energy of a specific female with a specific blood type, then yes, I visit her at night.” Hunter winked. “It's not a romantic overture, Donna. It's dinner. And in case you're wondering, I hurt none of them.  I hypnotize them to stay asleep and then the next day, they just wake up feeling exhausted.”
“After a night with you? I can certainly understand that.” She pinched his nipple and he squirmed away. “But,” Donna added, “I thought being bit by a vampire causes a mortal to be Turned.”
“It does, sometimes.” Hunter rubbed his nipple. “In most cases though, the vampire and mortal agree on it, which is where the hypnosis comes in handy. Sometimes a person needs...incentive to agree.”
“I thought vampires Turned people against their will.”
“Some vampires do.” Hunter's face darkened. “But it's just like in everything else. It's the most disturbed aspect of a group that gets the most notoriety. For every dozen vampires, only one goes bad. And for every dozen who go bad, only one was born bad.”
Donna shook her head. “What does that mean?”
“It means that most vampires who Turn mortals without consent are not inherently bad. They've simply suffered too much after the Turn and lost their way.”
“Can you tell the difference between the bad ones and the not-bad ones?”
“Most mortals can't. But you're not most mortals, so soon, you'll be able to.” The way Hunter said that made a chill cross Donna's spine. “Their eyes hide no pain. The good news is they're not common.”
“And the bad news?” 
“The bad news is, when they strike, these vampires never seek permission. Fortunately, most never venture out of the shadows, and they repel from mortal contact until their hunger becomes so strong they can no longer avoid it.” Hunter kissed her cheek. “And now that you've been awakened to the world of the shadows, more creatures will appear to you. Like when eyes become accustomed to the dark.  Your senses will sharpen. As you become more aware of them, they will become more aware of you.” A shaft of stubborn sunlight pierced through a small opening in the window cover. Donna hurried to close it. “Thanks,” Hunter whispered.
Donna smiled. “You said some vampires suffer. What causes their suffering?”
“Solitude. Starvation. Confusion. Being lost.” Hunter's eyes clouded over. “It's lonely over Here. Sometimes, I think the only thing keeping me from Turning bad during the years you and I can’t be together is my activity in the Organization.”
“What Organization?”
Hunter relaxed against the headboard and explained. “The Organization's a group of Underworld creatures whose goal is to create balance between the dead, the undead, and the living. A million vampires belong to it. It's a peace-keeping group, organized around the world.”
“There are a million vampires?”
“At least. And one thing the Organization does is seek out new Turns.”
“To keep them from getting lonely?”
“Yes,” Hunter nodded. “To help protect the Turn from going bad, which protects the living from being Turned which, in turn, helps maintain balance.”
Donna grimaced. “It doesn’t sound like vampires like themselves all that much.”
Hunter shrugged. “What's to like?”
“What I mean is you guys go to a lot of trouble to make sure new vampires are rare.”
“That's part of the Organization's job.  Too much Underworld makes for Chaos in the Mundane World.” He brushed his hands through his hair, which made his arm muscles flex. “The Organization tries to ensure Order. Order keeps Chaos at bay.”
“I studied Chaos in high school,” Donna said. “It's the confusing force from which all darkness emits, right?”
Hunter looked deeply in her eyes. “My world is a hostile place.”
The bedroom door down the hall creaked open and voices drifted toward Donna's room. 
“That certainly was quick,” she sneered. 
Hunter put his hand to her lips. Caroline McCormick and Brad shuffled down the stairs and out the front door in less than a minute. Hunter rubbed Donna's back until the car pulled from the driveway then she looked at him and sighed. 
“Instead of making me go through lifetime after lifetime with God knows how many stupid, parental pairings, why don’t you just Turn me?” 
His expression grew heavy with foreboding. “I'd never do that to you.”
“Why not?”
“There are things you just don't understand.” Hunter's tone was as heavy as his look. 
“You keep saying that. So explain them to me.”
His jaw tightened. “Sometimes, the other person won't survive the Turn. And even if they do, they aren't usually pleased to learn what they've become.” 
Donna thought about it for a moment. “How did I die in my last life?”
Hunter looked at her regretfully and answered slowly.  “The same way you died in all of them.”
“The kidnapper killed me, didn't he? He's a vampire, isn't he?” 
“He's not just any vampire, Donna. He's a vampire who wants to torment us both by killing you over and over.” 
“Over and over?” Donna picked at her fingernails. “Who is this guy?”
He looked at the floor. “My brother.”
“The one who Turned you?”  Donna looked for a different answer in Hunter's eyes, but all she saw was desperation. 
“My brother is shifty,” he said.  “Like sand that gets in your eyes. By the time you blink, he's back to hiding in the shadows.”
“What's his name?” 
Hunter spoke the name as if it was acid. “Stephen. That's enough about my brother. I've told you too much already.”
“You barely told me anything.” 
“I told you his name,” Hunter's brow lowered. “And I shouldn't have, because now that you know it, you're one step closer to knowing him.” A storm raged across Hunter's face. “If there's anybody you don't want to know, Donna, it's the man who was put on earth to kill you.”
“But -”
“But, nothing. This discussion is over.” Hunter turned away, lay on the bed and refused to say another word.
chapter twelve


It was late afternoon and Donna had tiptoed downstairs to curl up on the couch.  
Mo texted her.  “Need 2 vent.  Jamie sux.”
 Donna called her and then spent the next ten minutes hearing about what a sexist pig and selfish ass Jamie was. When her break was over and Mo assured Donna she felt better now, Donna stuffed the phone back in the pocket of her pink and purple robe and sat in silence, thinking. She stayed that way until her stomach grumbled.  She headed toward the kitchen, but first she opened the door to the garage and wandered in there, folding her arms and frowning at the Mustang's busted grille and dented fender. It certainly wasn't the worst of her problems, but it was the only damage she could stare directly in the face.
“Sorry about your car.” 
Donna jumped. “Can you warn me when you sneak up behind me, please?”
“Then it wouldn't be sneaking.” Hunter nuzzled her neck, which made her stiffen. “I’m not going to bite you.” Those last words held a tinge of irritation. 
“I'm hungry,” Donna murmured. “As a mere mortal, I need to eat mortal food.” She skirted past Hunter without looking him in the eye. If he thought he could reveal that her life was in danger and then shut down when she wanted details, he had another thing coming. He followed her to the kitchen and leaned against the doorway. Donna stood over the sink, looking out the window to the backyard, shoveling in saltine crackers until her throat was so dry she could barely swallow. Crackers weren't her first choice of snack, but there was nothing else edible left in the house that wasn't broken or otherwise spoiled from her parents' childish outburst. She bit into her fifth handful of crackers when she felt that eerie and somewhat familiar feeling of somebody watching her. She looked behind her.  Hunter was staring at his feet. She panned the backyard and there he was.  The culprit was an unfamiliar boy, probably not much older than Samee, and he was leaning against Dad's garden shed. The boy's expression was that vacant, minion look Donna now knew all too well. She dropped the saltine box in the sink and stormed out through the back doorway. Hunter shouted after her. 
“Where are you going?”
She didn't answer. She stomped across the patio and called to the boy. “What are you doing back here? This is private property.” He shrugged, so she went closer, hoping to scare him off, which she wasn't sure she could do in a short, flimsy, robe with nothing on underneath. Sure enough, he grinned at her and made a comment about how right now would be a good time for a wind gust to blow that robe up. Donna started to blush and that's when he lunged at her, swinging a pair of nun chucks. Donna screamed and backed away. He stepped closer, swung again. Then again. A breeze brushed by when the nun chucks passed her cheek. 
“Donna!” Hunter called from the back door. “Duck!”
Without questioning it, she fell to the ground, smashing her face in the grass, and put her arms over her head. Something zinged past from above and crashed against the shed. A loud buckling of concrete followed. Donna looked up. The teenaged boy with the nun chucks had hurried to his car and was screeching in it down the alley.  The shed looked like a bomb had exploded on it. She turned to look at Hunter, who was tucked in the shadows of the back doorway. He beckoned. 
“Get back over here, now.” 
She ignored him. “What in the hell did you throw?”
“A frying pan.”
Donna glanced back at the shed. “Are you sure it wasn't a live grenade?”
“Donna, get back in the house, please.”
“Dad's going to kill me.” 
“Unless that kid comes back and gets you first. Get in the house, now.” His tone, though bossy, was also loaded with panic.  So Donna hurried back and wrapped herself in his arms. Then she cried.
“What's happening to my life?”
Hunter led Donna inside, then upstairs to her bedroom. 
“Stay here,” he instructed. 
“I don't want to stay here,” Donna cried. “I want you to tell me why that boy just tried to kill me.”
“Shhhh.” Hunter placed a finger over his lips.
“Why are you treating me like a child?” she whined.
“I'm trying to protect you,” Hunter kissed her forehead. “Can't you understand that?”
“I want to know what's happening to my life since you came into it, Hunter-with-no-last-name. Can't you understand THAT?”
His brow lowered and he shook his head in frustration. “Please stop calling me that.  It’s Deangelo.  Just stay here. Please. I need to make a phone call.” He rushed down the stairs so quickly that it made her dizzy, and then he stood in the foyer to make the phone call. 
Deangelo…Donna Deangelo.  She shook away the thought.  Stop thinking like that, it’s ridiculous….And anyway, I’m too mad at him to marry him even if he asked.
Donna crept to the doorway and listened in on Hunter’s phone call, at least the half she could hear. 
“Yeah, I need your help again,” his voice was barely audible, so Donna tiptoed to the landing and listened closer. Hunter wandered to the showcase living room and continued the conversation. Lucky for her, the acoustics were good in there. “Yes,” he continued, “it's about her again, but days only this time.  I've got the nights...yes I know daylight costs extra...I realize how inconvenient this is for you...I don't care how under-appreciated you feel, I'm paying you to act, not feel...it's very important, yes...Whatever it's going to cost, just get it done.” He hung up and muttered what sounded like “greedy asshole.” A half-second later, Donna's phone rang. She reached in her robe pocket and pulled it out.
“Hi, Mo,” Donna said.  She descended the stairs, following Hunter to the living room. He paced the floor and rubbed his chin, barely noticing she was there.
Mo's voice was concerned. “Donna? Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” Considering somebody had just tried to kill her. 
“Why weren't you on campus today?”
“I had a migraine,” she lied. Why wouldn't Mo shut up and go away so Donna could talk to Hunter?
“I hope it's gone by tomorrow because there's something you need to see.”
“See?”
“It's about the mayor,” Mo whispered. “And his unholy alliance with the Underworld. Oh shit, I gotta go.”
“Mo, wait. What do you mean it's about the mayor?” But she had already hung up.  Hunter leaned against the front door, folding his arms across his wide chest.  He was ready to talk. 
“That kid wasn't going to kill you,” he rubbed his scruffy jaw. “His job was to kidnap you and take you to Stephen while I sat there and watched, unable to rescue you. According to my source, he was simply going to knock you out and drag you to his car, and then take you, unconscious, to Stephen.”
“Your source?” Donna was curious. “Which vampire source can lurk around in broad daylight?”
“The Underworld is not only for prisoners of the night.”
Just like Samee had said.  “Then your hit man isn't a vampire. Is he a minion?” She scowled. “Your minion?”
Hunter shrugged. “The less you know the better.” 
“I certainly couldn't know much less than I do right now.” Donna plopped on the fancy-assed chair that was her mother's pride and joy, sunk deep in it, and groaned. “So, high school kids with nun chucks and vampires with police officers. Is everything in the Underworld after me?”
“Not everything.”
“But I'm not even safe in my own backyard.”
“I'm sorry, Donna.” She had to admit, he really did look sorry. “Now you see why I tried to avoid getting you involved.”
“Well, I'm involved. So now what?”
“Nothing,” Hunter said firmly. You'll just go about your business and everything will be fine.”
Donna swallowed hard and stared at her Eternal Partner, hoping for more. When it didn't come, she decided to take Hunter at his word. What other choice did she have? Maybe everything really would be fine. Or maybe she just wanted to believe that it would. 
Because she did believe it.

chapter thirteen


It was morning. Donna was in bed with her eyes closed. A tongue licked her neck. 
“Who let a dog in my room?” she mumbled groggily.
“I have an idea,” Hunter grinned crookedly. “Why don't you shut up and kiss me?”
She laughed. “Not a chance with that attitude.” 
Hunter grinned and stretched. “I could get used to this.”
Donna watched his muscles flex and wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him and have her way with every inch of him. “Get used to what?” 
“Waking up next to the most beautiful girl on earth and spending the whole day in bed with her.” Donna reached over and kissed him. Then she remembered.
“Shit! I'm going to be late for class. I can't miss two days in a row.” She shot out of bed and raced to the bathroom with a pile of clothes she didn't bother to look at, just grabbed from her closet. After brushing her teeth, splashing her face with water and pulling on jeans and the pink top Mo hated so much because it was pink, Donna stepped from the bathroom to discover Hunter still sprawled naked in bed, like a Roman god waiting to be hand-fed peeled grapes by his adoring servant. 
She searched all over for her shoes and found one of them under the bed and the other on top of her dresser. How had it gotten there?   “Is Stephen going to get me while I'm at school?”
Hunter smiled, but it was sad. “No, sweetheart. In sunlight, he'd vaporize to dust.”
“Doesn’t Stephen have the sunscreen pills?” Donna looked in the mirror. Her hair was awful.
Hunter chuckled. “There's no way my supplier would sell those pills to Stephen.”
“How can you be sure?” 
“My supplier hates Stephen. And just to make sure he hates him enough, I offered the supplier a little financial incentive.  The best Stephen could do is dress from head-to-toe in Underworld-grade, sun-protective clothing.  But even that’s risky for more than a few moments, and again, the vampire in such a situation is at an extreme disadvantage.  He could never chase and catch you, for instance.”  
Well, that was at least good news.  “But what about the minions?”
“It's all taken care of.”
“If you don't mind my saying so,” Donna pulled a brush through her hair, “you seem rather cavalier about all this. After yesterday, I'm not so confident.” Donna found some lipstick and applied it.
“Trust me. I would never let you out of my sight if I didn't have confidence in your safety.” 
How I would love to be so confident. 
Hunter stretched, yawned, and his muscles flexed again. Donna swallowed hard and wondered if the anatomy professor would accept “Exploration of My Vampire Boyfriend's Body” as a valid assignment.
“Are you planning on staying here all day?”  She picked up her laptop and the books that she'd never even looked at all weekend.  “Or would you like me to drop you off somewhere?” 
“I'll stay here,” he rolled onto his back and she watched his chest gently rise with each breath.  Donna put on her pink sweater, which Mo also hated. 
“What if my mom and Brad decide to grace this house with another appearance?”
“I'll just say, 'Hi, Donna's mother. I'm holding down your daughter's bed while she's at school.  That way when she comes home, it will be here for her to hop in with me.’” 
“Are you seriously going to stay?” Donna frowned.
“It’s much safer if I do.  It's daylight out there.” Hunter rolled on his side and propped up on an elbow. It accentuated his bicep. How could anybody have such an utterly perfect body? “Come here,” he coaxed. 
“You're reading my mind,” she groaned. “And if I come over there, you'll find a way to keep me in bed all day. Besides,” Donna spoke in a tone that she hoped would convince herself as well as Hunter. “My parents are paying for my college education, not my bedroom one. The least I can do is try to get their money's worth.”
Hunter grinned crooked and cute. “I understand.  Have a good day.”
Donna was a bit disappointed at his lack of resistance. “You too.”
“I love you,” he winked.
“I love you, too.” She gasped. “Oh, I mean - I'm sorry.” She looked at her feet and felt her face redden. 
Hunter chuckled. “Why are you sorry?”
It's just that, that's the first time we've said it.”
“No, sweetheart, it isn't.”

A few moments later, Donna backed the Mustang from the garage and felt lighter than air, despite the wrecked front grille and pack of minions following her around like groupies on a concert circuit. Hunter stood at the bedroom window, shielding himself from sunlight. Donna waved, but the sun was too bright for her to tell whether he waved back. She hoped he didn't parade naked around the house for Mom to trip over if she decided to stop by. Donna wondered if other college girls ever have the problem of a naked boyfriend alone in their parents’ house while they went to biology class, or if it was just another of the weird perks reserved for mortal girls Eternally Partnered to Underworld guys. 
A hideously ugly, black Bronco sat alongside the curb. It grumbled to life at the sight of the Mustang. The driver, who she refused to look at, followed Donna clear to campus, and then parked his ugly beast a few spots down from where she parked. Donna ignored him and trotted off to class.
Mo texted her during Physics. 
“Meet me @ lunch in caf.” 
“OK,” Donna texted back.
After class, Donna deposited her books in the Mustang while kicking herself for not getting Hunter's phone number so she could check on him. She curled her lip at the Bronco, which was now occupant-free, and had a ticket under its wiper blade for parking in the student lot without a sticker. Donna grinned. 
Serves the big, ugly, murdering ass right. 
She felt somebody staring at her.  So, she glanced up, expecting it to be the big, ugly, murdering ass. Instead, a petite woman about her mother's age, wearing huge sunglasses and carrying an over-sized, black umbrella, stood behind the Mustang, glaring. 
“Hello,” her voice had a high pitch.
“Hi,” Donna muttered.
She lowered the glasses just long enough for Donna to detect a pair of bulging, deep-brown eyes. “I'm Ms. Schmill, the new guidance counselor.” 
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Schmill.” 
“Ms. Schmill, not Mrs.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Donna shut the Mustang's door and observed the woman closely. She had dark, shoulder-length, perfectly sculpted hair which framed the bulging eyes that lorded over her tiny frame. She wore a wide-brimmed red hat, elbow-length black gloves, and carried that umbrella like the fancy ladies in Victorian movies did when they stepped outside for their afternoon stroll.  
“You're Donna McCormick.” 
“Yes,” Donna said slowly.
“Please come with me.”  Ms. Schmill smiled like a hyena preparing to attack.
“Is something wrong?” 
“Just come with me, Donna. And hurry up about it.” Ms. Schmill whirled on her heels then clicked neatly and quickly back toward the building. 
What was so important that Ms. Schmill made a point to summon Donna while she was minding her own business in the parking lot? Was there a no-tolerance policy of skipping school to have sex with vampires? Ms. Schmill, dressed neat and crisp in a red pant suit that seemed at odds with the black gloves and big umbrella, clicked across campus in her bright red stilettos at a pace that Donna, even in her sneakers, couldn't keep up with. They passed several students who stopped what they were doing to watch Donna trudge past like a condemned prisoner approaching her last moments on earth. By the time they entered the administration building, Donna was out of breath and luckily, Ms. Schmill slowed the pace, somewhat. But she still traipsed along at a quick clip. Down a hall and through an administration office they went, office workers scuttling aside like rats on a sinking ship, avoiding Donna's gaze. Ms. Schmill turned left and Donna followed her down another hall. A few minutes later they arrived at a door with “Ms. Schmill” on it. During this whole time, Ms. Schmill didn't utter a word. 
At the door, she removed her big sunglasses, then a set of keys from her pocket. They clinked like prison keys. She opened the office door and motioned for Donna to enter while watching her with those bulging, bug eyes which didn't seem to blink. Donna stepped inside and swallowed a gasp. She'd been in this office several times before, but that had been when Mr. Anderson was the guidance counselor. Back then, the room featured plain, beige walls and a chunky file cabinet with the drawers always open and contents piling out. There had been a framed photo of Mr. Anderson’s family on the desk, which was stacked a foot tall with books, papers, and other notes. The windows and shades had been open to look out over the track field and there had been a poster just behind his desk that read, “SUCCESS COMES TO THOSE WHO APPLY FOR IT - APPLY TODAY!” The room used to smell like dust and cigarettes because Mr. Anderson smoked, usually in the office where he wasn't supposed to. But Mr. Anderson had disappeared just before classes started, and Ms. Schmill had arrived to take his place. Her use of the space had a decidedly different tone. For one thing, the dust and cigarette smell had been replaced by the odor of furniture polish and fresh leather. The blinds were drawn tight, defying anything to come in the room without permission. A light-starved Venus flytrap perched on a table, looking ready to bite the head off the first thing that got close. The freshly painted, stark white walls offset the black leather furniture and blood red carpet that matched Ms. Schmill’s shoes. Ms. Schmill's desk was well-preserved and tidy - a place where somebody might sit to deliver orders with razor-sharp precision. The whole room was immaculate, orderly.  As if under Ms. Schmill's command, nothing dared to be out of place. Donna even imagined desperate secrets hiding like famished beasts underneath the desk.  It was a compelling scene and a not altogether uncomfortable one, at least not to Donna, who wished her life made half this much sense.  
Ms. Schmill smiled in a tight-lipped, cold way. “Do you like it?” 
Without waiting for an answer, she pushed Donna deeper in the room and slammed the door shut behind them. Two pictures hung from the north wall. Donna recognized one immediately as “The Scream,” with its familiar terrified subject, mouth gaping wide in horror. The second picture showed two men standing at the opening of a fierce cave. “Are you familiar with these pieces?” 
Donna pointed at the second one. “Not with this one.”
“It's titled 'Dante and Virgil at the Gates of Hell.’” Ms. Schmill's mouth opened wide and emphasized the word hell. “Look closer.”  She placed a hand against Donna's back and nudged her nearer to the picture. “The devil is in the details. And aren't the details in this piece so vivid? Can you feel how the cave is prepared to swallow up anything that comes too close or gets too curious for its own good?”
Shivers went up Donna's spine. She backed away from the picture. 
“Ye – yes, I see.”
“I knew you would, Donna. You're a clever young woman.” Ms. Schmill instructed Donna to sit in a chair near the ravenous plant. Donna sat cautiously, but felt like the seat cushions were swallowing her up. Why was everything in the office so hungry? Ms. Schmill folded her skinny limbs in the mahogany seat behind her pristine desk and stared at Donna, who shifted uneasily in the chair. 
“Do you feel well or unwell today, Donna?” 
“I feel well, thank you.” Her voice was small. Did Ms. Schmill ever blink? 
“It has been brought to my attention that you have a boyfriend.” 
How does she know about Hunter? Mo barely even knows.  Besides, what business is it of hers anyhow? 
“You know, Donna, you're at the age when young women can be very vulnerable. Especially young women like you.”
“Like me?” Sweat drained down Donna's back and soaked the leather chair.
“Yes, like you.” Ms. Schmill's elbows rested on the desk and her hands were pressed together with the fingers wide apart - like a praying mantis preparing to dine. “Young women who, despite their maturity in other areas, have never had intimate relationships. No serious ones, anyway. We cannot call your ex-boyfriend Matt very serious now, can we? Certainly, a young man who would cheat on you isn't that serious, right?” Shock waves shot through Donna with each syllable Ms. Schmill spewed. And, indeed, she still had not blinked. “Young men will tell you anything to get what they want. You simply must not believe anything they say. If one says you're the most wonderful, beautiful girl in the world, he's lying.” Donna choked. ”Do you understand what I am suggesting?” Ms. Schmill peered with unblinking eyes. “I'm suggesting you will be wise to focus on your studies and foolish to study the new young man who claims to love you.” 
Donna cleared her throat, too astounded to speak. 
“Well. Good then.” Ms. Schmill got to her feet and Donna followed. But when she attempted to open the door, Ms. Schmill's scarlet shoe blocked her. “Just remember, I have your best interests at heart.”
Donna doubted that, but she smiled politely and uttered “Thank you.” Ms. Schmill moved her foot and Donna hurried from the office, almost bumping right into Rochelle, who stood just outside the door.  She carried a bag of food and a couple drinks. She looked a little less gorgeous than usual, though Donna couldn't place her finger on why. 
So much for selling one's soul for eternal beauty.
“Did the counselor fix what's broken in you, Donna?” Rochelle laughed icily and then looked to Ms. Schmill. “Hi, Ms. Schmill. Are you ready for lunch?” 
“Yes, come on in. I'm starved.” She emphasized “starved” like she had emphasized hell.  
Rochelle pushed past Donna to enter Ms. Schmill's office then slammed the door shut. Almost immediately, a burst of cold laughter came from behind it. 
Donna hurried to the cafeteria for a well-done burger and fries. Mo was nowhere around, so Donna texted her. 
“Where r u?” 
“Library.” 
Donna gobbled her food and then rushed to the library.  There was Mo, hair glowing like a neon lighthouse in an ocean of books. 
“Hey Donna!” Mo waved and hollered. The owl-faced librarian hissed.
“Sorry,” Donna whispered to the librarian, who scowled in response. Donna hurried quietly to Mo who stood, tip-toed, on a foot stool.  She pulled out a book from a high shelf.  Its title was “The Truth About Vampires.” 
“Come on.” Mo didn't notice that the color drained from Donna's face, or if she did, she didn't mention it. Instead, she motioned for Donna to follow her to the checkout desk where the librarian stared like she expected Mo's spiky hair to burst into flames at any second. When they emerged to the hallway, Mo snorted and rolled her eyes.
“That librarian is about as fun as melted tar.” 
Donna's voice quivered. “What's up with the book?” 
Mo shook the book at Donna, “It's about these disappearances our fearless law-and-order troops are doing nothing about. I think they're under the influence of mind control.” Mo scanned the hallway for eavesdroppers. “The more I look over the clues, the more I'm convinced our neighborhood kidnapper is not entirely human.”
“That's ridiculous.” Donna tried to sound convincing. 
Mo's eyes widened. “No, it isn't. The kidnapper's a vampire who has the police force under his mind control spell. He's stealing those poor girls for their blood. The fact that he's choosing victims who match a certain type,” Mo glanced at Donna's hair, “suggests there's something about their looks that makes him target them - possibly intense hatred.” She raised an eyebrow at her friend and stuffed the book in her face. “It's in here. I don't want to be late to Ethics class again, so we'll talk later. And Donna, be careful.” Mo dashed away before Donna could tell her to do the same. 
How in the hell did Mo get so close to the truth with so few of the facts?
chapter fourteen


Caroline McCormick's car was in the garage when Donna got home, and two large suitcases set in the tile foyer by the front door. Mom bounced down the stairs like a 46-year-old street hooker, wearing black shorts that hardly covered her butt and a black top that covered even less than the shorts. 
“Hi Donna!” her eyes sparkled. Based on that, Donna figured she hadn't run in to the undead intruder yet.
“Where are you going?” Donna pointed to the bags. Mom stopped at the bottom step, placed her hands on her hips, surveyed Donna from head to toe, and frowned. Could a mother tell when a vampire had taken her only child's long-overdue virginity?
“You look pale.” Mom placed a chilly hand on Donna's forehead. “I wonder if you have a touch of what's going around.” Considering that “what's going around” was soul-stealing, Donna certainly hoped not. “And to answer your question, I've been working so hard, and then there's that little issue between your dad and me -”
“Little issue?” 
“Donna, stop it. Anyhow, the partners in my law firm agreed I need some time off so, they're sending me to Hawaii for a week.” She smiled and her bright, big teeth sparkled.
Donna folded her arms. “You won't be here for my twenty-first birthday.”
“But I will bring you back something amazing from Waikiki.”  Mom kissed Donna's forehead. She smelled like cheap perfume and giggled when her lipstick left a red smooch mark on Donna’s forehead. She wiped it off.
“But it's a milestone birthday,” Donna whined.
Mom pressed her lips together, which accentuated the fine lines around them. “What do you want me to do? Cancel the trip my colleagues paid for so I don't miss your milestone?” 
“No,” Donna mumbled.  
“Of course not,” Mom nodded once.  “I know you're short on funds these days, so I left money on the counter. If you need anything else, call your father.” There was an edge in her voice when she spoke of her husband and a quality of pity when she spoke of Donna's finances. 
“Mom, what if I need -?”
“Goodness, Donna. I've provided you with a roof over your head, a car, money...what else could you possibly need?”
“Nothing, I guess.” She looked down. The fact that her mother hadn't seen the vampire in her bedroom or the Mustang's damage should be enough.
“Good then. I have to be at the airport by 5:00.”
“Do you need a ride?”
“A friend is driving me. Be a dear, honey, and help me carry these bags to the curb.” She picked up the smallest suitcase and sashayed outside with it. 
My mother’s ass cheeks are bumping together like a couple of bowling balls in a gutter lane.  Donna rolled her eyes and hauled the other suitcase.
“Are there rocks in this bag?” she asked.
“Thank you for your help, you may go back inside now,” Mom said dismissively.
“But don't you want help loading the -?”
“My friend is just arriving to help.” A new model, gold-toned Jaguar rounded the corner. “Go on now,” Mom shooed Donna back like she was wayward waterfowl. “Love you and see you in a week.”
Donna watched through the living room window. A blond guy, probably Brad, exited the Jaguar. He looked a few years older than Hunter and fought to shuffle suitcases in the trunk.  Ultimately, he gave up and left the bags bursting out and the trunk wide open. Then he whisked Caroline McCormick off to a paradise in his shiny, five-speed armor. 
“The coast is clear,” Donna hollered. No answer. “Hunter?” Still no answer. “Are you here?” Nothing. Donna sauntered to the kitchen, half hoping Mom had forgotten to leave money because then she could stop feeling guilty about the hateful feelings she had toward her own mother. But a stack of cash and her ATM card were right where Mom had promised. In fact, the cash stack was substantial. Hush money.  She stuffed the cash and card in her pants pocket then called Hunter's name again. When he still didn't answer, she retreated upstairs.
He must have found a way to get home. 
Donna thought it a bit rude that Hunter hadn't even bothered to leave a note, but maybe rudeness was another one of those vampire traits she'd just have to get used to. So Donna stepped in the shower and washed away yesterday’s grime.  She had just finished rinsing down when the curtain snapped open. She shrieked. 
“Hi to you too,” Hunter winked. He wore a big smile and nothing else. 
Donna rubbed steam from her eyes. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry,” he grinned. “I was hiding in the basement, and then I got a phone call. Anyhow,” he grinned again, “here I am.” He observed Donna with a sultry stare. “And so are you.” 
Donna clenched her teeth. “Could you warn me before you sneak up next time?”
“We've been through this before, sweetheart. How can I sneak up if I warn you first? Besides, it's more fun to sneak. I never know what I might get - like now.” His voice deepened. “A sexy, soaking wet woman in the shower.” 
“Stop it, Hunter. I'm mad at you.” But he didn't stop it. In fact, he stepped in the shower and let water trickle down his torso, which made his pale skin glisten. He licked Donna's throat, backed her against the tile wall, kissed her hard and then kissed her softly. He explored every inch of her. Donna moaned. Steam drifted up, which made her feel lightheaded.  Or maybe that was Hunter's effect. Water beaded at the very tips of his black hair, holding on for as long as it could before finally giving in and letting go. Donna did the same – held on and then let go. 
“Come for me,” he whispered.  So she did.
Afterward, they lay in bed, resting in each other’s heat. Hunter ran his fingers down her arm. “I could be here exactly like this for the rest of my life. Which could be a while.”
“Well,” she kissed the tip of his nose. “My mom's gone for a week, so you can be here for at least that long. After that, you might have to pay rent if you plan to stay.”
“Oh, I definitely plan to stay.” His hands brushed against Donna's naked belly, and something tingled inside there, like butterflies.
Donna smiled. “But what about Samee? She can't be alone in that house for a whole week.”
Hunter chuckled. “Samee only wishes she could be alone in that house for a whole week.”
“Other people live there?”
He shrugged. “If you use the term 'live' lightly, then yeah. It's a houseful of vampires.”
“Speaking of that,” she pushed herself up, “Mo knows there are vampires in town and that the mayor is one of them. How she ever figured it out, I don't know.  But that's Mo for you. What are we going to do?”
“Nothing will happen to Mo if she doesn't make a scene.”
“You don't know Mo.”
“You don't know my source.”
Donna rubbed her temples. “Considering your source's technique, saying that does absolutely nothing to make me feel better.”
“Well then, maybe this will.” Hunter reached over the bed, stretched, groaned, and picked up his pants from the floor. He tugged at something in the front pocket, balled it in his fist and then threw the pants back to the floor.  He looked at Donna and grinned crookedly. The fist opened to reveal a delicate, white cloth. Donna looked at him, a slow smile crossing her face. 
“What…?”
“Go ahead, take it.” 
She did. It felt weightless. Hunter captured her lips with his then laid back and watched her carefully unwrap the cloth. 
Donna gasped.  “It's beautiful!” 
It was the most exquisite sapphire she'd ever seen and it sparkled with dazzling blue flames. Like an ancient, wise eye watching over her. Inside the band was an inscription. 
“Eternal Partners,” she whispered. 
“I thought you might like to have it back,” Hunter said quietly. Dazzling spears of azure lit up the bedroom like magic. “I had this handmade especially for you.  It matches your soul. I gave it to you the very first time I proposed and every time after.”
“Proposed? But -”
“But you're not ready for me to propose this time.” 
Donna searched his eyes. How could she explain that she wanted to be his Eternal Partner, just like the ring said, but that this was all so sudden?  
“It's okay, sweetheart. I'll wait until you're ready.” Hunter kissed her forehead. “Will you wear it for me on your right hand?” Donna considered the depth of commitment he was asking. His heart thumped expectantly while he waited for her answer. She knew that's what it was doing because hers was, too. She smiled broadly. 
“Yes Hunter, I will wear it. Thank you for asking me to.” 
He took her right hand and slipped the ring on her finger.
“It fits perfectly,” she said softly.
“It always does.” Hunter kissed her again and she melted right into it. 

Just before 1:00 am, the phone's ringing jolted Donna awake. Before she could become fully conscious, Hunter grabbed the receiver, clicked the talk button and mumbled “Hello.”  He grumbled something incoherent and handed it to her.  In Donna's groggy state, she dropped the phone in the sheets and it got lost there. She searched frantically in the dark until a voice screeched from it.
	
“Donna? What's going on?” Donna followed the noise to its source, found the phone and put it to her ear. “Donna? Answer me!”
“Ow, stop shouting Mo. We can all hear you, including the neighbors.”
“Who answered the phone?” Mo's tone was piercing. “Was that Hunter? Why's he over there? Oh no, are you and he doing it again? Why didn't you tell me? Why are you with him after he cheated on you? What's he doing there this late? Are you guys using protection this time?”
Donna flipped on the nightstand light. Hunter shoved his head under the pillow and groaned. 
“Yes, Hunter's here.”
Mo scoffed. “What's that cheater doing there?” 
Donna rubbed her eyes. “He's not a cheater and he's trying to sleep.”
She gasped. “So you are sleeping together.” Hunter flipped back over, smiled lopsidedly, and raised an eyebrow at the phone. His hair was tousled and his chest exposed. “Did he explain why Samee was all over him? What was his excuse? I barely got a look at him that time in The Dark Side. Is he cute? He sounds cute. He must be cute. Tell him I said he’s cute, but only if he's not a cheater. If he's a cheater, then he's an asshole. Tell him I will personally kill him if he cheats on you. Tell him that now. I'll wait.” 
“Speaking of waiting,” Donna yawned. “What's so important that couldn't wait until morning?”
“It is morning, silly.”
“I mean real morning, Mo. The kind with daylight.” 
“Okay,” Mo paused, rounding up her thoughts like a herd of cats. “I have some bad news. There was another kidnapping at The Dark Side and I'm here I'm looking for clues.” 
“You're at the crime scene right now?”
“Yes, and before you go off about how irresponsible I am, just remember.  I'm not the one ditching my education to get hot, unprotected sex from my new boyfriend. He left a note this time.”
“Who left a note?”
“The kidnapper, Donna. Wake up,” Mo spoke impatiently. “It reads, and I quote - 'I took another one tonight, but your turn is next, Donna.' I don't know if he means you, but...it’s a strange coincidence, with your hair being blonde and all.  Please, be careful. Oh shit, a cop just showed up. I gotta go.” The phone clicked and Mo was gone.
Hunter whispered, “We'll catch him.” 
Donna's head drooped. “How do you catch a nightmare?” Hunter's phone rang. He sifted through his clothes until he found it. 
“What is it?” His tone was surly. He went silent while the person on the other end spoke, then he clicked the phone shut and bolted from bed.  He pulled on his pants. 
“Where are you going?” She grabbed Hunter's wrist. “Don't leave me.”
“I have to.” He hugged her fiercely. “Give me your phone.” Donna handed it over.  Hunter flipped it open, punched in some numbers, flipped it shut and handed it back. “I programmed in my number. Call me if anything happens.” Hunter's gaze bored into hers. “Do not, under any circumstances, leave your bedroom or let anybody in. Anybody. Keep the door closed. Do you understand?” Donna nodded. “You're safe in here. I put a protection charm on this room the minute I came to town, and I've reinforced it every time since.” 
“Are you sure it works?”
“Of course it works,” he said impatiently. “Why else do you think Stephen can only bother you in your dreams?” 
“My dreams...” 
“Listen to me, Donna,” Hunter cupped her face between his hands. “The way Stephen has gotten to you in the past is because you didn't listen to me. So, listen. Are you listening?”
“Yes,” she said with a note of irritation. Why did he think she couldn't listen? 
“Every charm has its limitations. This one's limitation is at your bedroom door and window. You're safe in here and in the bathroom. But nowhere else. Don't open the bedroom door, don't open the window. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “Why can't you put a charm on the whole house?”
Hunter tied his shoes. “A protection charm grows pockets of weakness as it gets bigger - like Swiss cheese. The charm I have on your room is nice and strong right now, no holes. If an Underworld creature tries, they won't be able to access you in here.”
“Then how can you?”
“It's my charm, sweetheart. I'm immune to it.” Hunter stood up and pulled on his jacket. “Keep the door closed and the window shut.” 
“Why can't I go with you?”
“You'd be a weak link.”
 “Weak link?”  That stung.
Hunter sighed. “I don't mean it like that. It's just that...you're his target. I can't risk having you there.”
Donna didn't particularly like that answer.  She frowned. “Hunter?”
“What?” he said impatiently.
“What about minions?” Will the charm keep them out?”
“No. But your security system will.”
“But -”
“I have to go. I love you.” Hunter planted a frantic kiss on Donna, then was down the stairs and gone before she could finish asking her last question, which was this: If the security system couldn't keep out vampires and the charm couldn't keep out minions, then what if a vampire and a minion showed up at the same time and each gained access for the other?
Donna put on a camisole and navy blue sweats then sat on her bed and listened to the maddening silence. She bit the nails on her left hand and twirled the ring around on her right.  She peered through the window shade, but she kept the window closed as per Hunter's instructions. Within ten minutes Donna was pacing the floor and cursing the darkness. She sat at her desk to doodle and all that would come were pictures of a menacing dark force with hair the color of blood and eyes to match. Samee's words echoed against Donna's soul. 
“I'm a weakness to him.” 
Weakness. 
Donna hated how it sounded. She hated the idea of being weak. She also needed a weapon that could hurt a mortal minion if one made its way in, and she knew exactly where to find one. Dad's gun was in the nightstand on his side of the bed. 
Or is it Brad's side now? 
Donna scanned the hallway in both directions, ran down the corridor to her parents' room, pushed open the door and snapped on the light. It flipped off almost immediately. She pushed it on again, but nothing happened. And it wasn't just the bedroom light. The hall light was dead, too. In fact, every light in the house had flipped off. And what was that smell? It was like something had died... 
“Donna,” his voice was like icicles.  The room chilled.
She ran back to her bedroom, but the door slammed shut before she got there. She turned the knob.  It wouldn't open.  She stumbled for the stair rail and blindly fled down the steps, tumbling down the last few and landing on her hip against the cold entryway tile. 
“Be careful, Donna. I do not want you to hurt yourself. That's my job.” 
Hunter's words struck her like lightning. “...call me if anything happens.” Donna reached in her pocket for the phone. 
It was upstairs on her bed. 
Every light in the house flickered on. She squinted at the sudden brightness and then gasped at the towering fortress in front of her. He looked exactly like he did in the nightmares. He smelled just as wretched as in the nightmares, too. His hair, a long, tangled mass, looked like he'd ripped strands from those he had killed and weaved them with his own. His heavy boots stretched to the middle of his mountainous calves and his hands were like cannons preparing to explode. When he spoke, it felt like death rushing up to greet her. 
“Are you looking for this?” His mammoth fist opened to reveal Donna's phone, resting in his palm.  She reached for it, but he pulled back and flung the phone over his enormous shoulder. His grip was cold as iron and strong as steel.  He took Donna by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, pressing her against the front door. 
“It is time to play with your other Eternal Partner, Donna.” 
“You're nothing but a nightmare!” she cried.
“I am much more than that, Donna. I am the better brother. Hunter does not have what it takes. If you had been under my supervision, I would have broken your legs so you could not have defied my instructions to stay in the room.”  
“Get away from me!”
But he didn't. “Do you know what we are to each other, my pet?” He smiled, exposing hideous, black teeth. “We are Eternal Partners.” 
“No -”
“And do you want to know what else we are?” He grabbed Donna's chin. “Lovers. You have loved me, Donna, and you will love me again. Tonight. It will be just like the first time and every time since.” 
“I don't love you,” she snarled between clenched teeth. “I love Hunter.”
Stephen sighed. “You are wasting your time loving him. He does not love you back as you deserve to be loved, Donna. Why do you think Hunter tries so hard to save you? Do you really think it is gallantry on his part?” Stephen scoffed. “Hunter is from a time when a woman was the property of her man. Hunter simply does not want to share his ill-gotten possession.” 
“Hunter's not like that, he's a decent human being.” 
Stephen's hand clamped her throat.  His fingernails clawed her flesh. “Hunter is not even human. He and I are night monsters. This is why my brother is drawn to you. He needs to feed from your sunny soul. Listen to me, pet. When he tells you, 'I would never feed from you,' realize he is lying.” She shook her head frantically, choked. “It is interesting, Donna, that you keep falling for him over and over, as if the love you experience goes both ways. Vampires are symbiotic creatures, searching for homeostasis. You give, he takes.” Stephen peered down hungrily at her.  She gasped for air. “The living take for granted how much beauty they possess in their souls. Your beauty is all-consuming, Donna. This is why Hunter craves you so. He is starving. Do you now see, my pet? His love is false. But that is not true with me. My love for you is pure. Pure evil.” Stephen pulled Donna away from the door and threw her at the stairs. Her head slammed against the banister, sending stars before her vision. “Now, Donna. You get to decide how terrible this goes. The more you anger me, the worse it will be. Remember, I can read your thoughts. So I suggest you keep them loving ones.”
That's when it hit her. 
Hunter can read my mind. 
She'd begged him not to do it, but hopefully he hadn't listened. 
HUNTER!  HELP!
“How quaint - calling out to your other lover.  But he cannot help you.  He has failed again.”  Stephen inched close to Donna's face, his breath stinking and hot.  “What sort of keeper do you have, my lovely little lamb, who cannot keep his livestock safe in his own barn?” Stephen spat on the floor. A bit of drool lingered on his bottom lip. He slammed her against the banister again. “He's the reason this keeps happening. He won't leave you alone. I ask you Donna. What half of a loving soul would allow for the endless torture of its other?” Stephen roared with iced laughter.  The air swirled like a cyclone and the strangest feeling overcame Donna - like her eye had exploded. Pain seared across the side of her face and Stephen loomed above, his brow a bulging clump above his eyes. “That ordinary life you wanted, pet? It has eluded you once again.” 
HUNTER! PLEASE HELP ME! 
Stephen threw Donna to the cold, entryway tile.  He grabbed her throat, lifted her off her feet and smashed his fist against the side of her head again. Then came the sensation of flying through the air and after that, everything went black.

Donna wanted to open her eyes, but they felt glued shut. She didn't know where she was, or even what she was. 
Maybe I’m dead. 
She tried to move but sharp pain bolted from her goddess toes to the top of her head. Unless being dead came with the added insult of being in pain, Donna figured she probably wasn't dead. She groaned.
“She's waking up!” An excited-sounding female voice.
“Don't move, sweetheart.” A male voice. Hunter? A hand was on Donna's shoulder, keeping her down. She was lying down. 
“We should take her to the hospital.” Mo's voice splinted the darkness. Donna would recognize that pitch anywhere. The word hospital echoed like a bad dream. Her eyes pushed open and there was Hunter, holding something to her temple. It was cold. A wet, cold, purple washcloth from her bathroom.
Why does he have that? 
Samee and Mo hovered over her. Samee bit her bottom lip and wore a similar expression to Hunter's, which was worry. Mo's mascara was smeared, like she'd been crying. Donna wondered if it was because of the pregnancy hormones.
“Stay still,” Hunter instructed.
“Can you remember anything?” Samee asked. 
“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Mo demanded. 
Donna moved her lips to respond, but her mouth felt full of rocks. Hunter ushered Samee and Mo from the room, closed the door quietly and then the three of them talked in hushed voices on the other side of it. Even Mo's voice was too low to hear, other than when she exclaimed, “That's a load of bullshit!” Then Donna heard the other two shush her. 
The room spun. She needed the bathroom.  She wanted to throw up. Come to think of it, was she even at home? Donna blinked a few times and focused. There it was; the mirror above her dresser. Well, she was home then. She tried to rise but pain seared through every inch of her. The door opened. Samee stepped in first and cautiously walked up to Donna.
“I'm so sorry,” she said in a teary-sounding tone. She bit her lip again. 
“Okay Samee,” Hunter said sternly. “That's enough.” 
Next, Mo was at Donna's side.  She looked miserable. She glowered at Hunter in that way only Mo can do. It usually scared paint off walls but it just made Hunter hiss. She called him a Freakenstein asshole and he called her a nosy nit-wit. Then Donna's room filled with something that felt like unclapped thunder.  Hunter and Mo eyed each other like a couple of feral cats negotiating turf. 
What’s that all about?
Mo kissed her fingertips and then placed them gently on Donna's forehead. 
“I love you,” she said in a quivering voice. Those hormones were something else. Donna would have to remember about that when she got pregnant. Oh, wait. Hunter couldn't have kids. Never mind.
Mo stepped away from Donna, grabbing Hunter's elbow.  She dragged him to the door and whispered loudly, the way she always whispers. 
“You damn well better take good care of her or I'll skewer you faster than you can suck blood from a mosquito.” Then Mo was gone.
What had brought that on? Donna tried to move again, but Hunter was quickly at her side.
“Sweetheart, don't try to get up.” Why not? She just wanted to go to the bathroom and puke up her guts. Maybe Hunter read her mind because he scooped Donna up and rushed her to the bathroom then held back her hair while she vomited up something that looked and tasted like blood. Every heave hurt and every fiber of her being felt like it had been hit by a truck. 
What in the hell is the matter with me? 
She probably should have been embarrassed but wasn't sure what for. Hunter didn't seem daunted. He just flushed the toilet and carried her back to bed. 
“Hunter -” Donna's voice sounded thick. 
“Don't talk,” he brushed hair from her face. “Just sleep.”  She didn't want to sleep. She wanted to know why she hurt so much and why everybody was acting so strange. Her eyelids grew heavy.  One of them felt tight. She tried to force them both open but Hunter stroked her right cheek and whispered in her ear, which made her drift into unconsciousness.
Donna woke up with her throat on fire. She panicked, though she wasn't sure why. She got up and dizzily walked to the bathroom for a glass of water. Every step was torment. She arrived at the sink, glanced in the mirror, and her knees buckled. The entire left side of her face looked like it had done ten rounds in a boxing ring and her eye was a startling shade of purple - like that washcloth Hunter had dabbed at her earlier. The bruising went from her ear to her jaw. Slowly, it dawned on her, like shattered glass being glued back together. Stephen. In the house. Her crying for Hunter. Stephen, grabbing her throat. Stephen, furious. She couldn't remember why.  
He had hold of me.
She looked down at herself.  Her clothes had been changed. She now wore a white t-shirt instead of the camisole and a fresh pair of pajama bottoms. 
What happened to me?
Donna’s ears rang and her vision darkened. She fell back on the toilet and tried to catch her breath. 
“I told you to stay in bed.” Hunter's sudden appearance in the bathroom doorway made Donna jump. He frowned. “Take my hand.” She did, and he helped her back to bed.
The room smelled like food. Hunter picked up a tray from the dresser and deposited it across Donna's lap. A bowl of chicken noodle soup, grilled cheese sandwich, a small plate of fresh fruit and a thick, chocolate milkshake. There was also a big glass of juice which she grabbed and guzzled in only a few swallows. She turned up her nose at everything else.
“What's wrong?” Hunter's brow furrowed. “Samee told me these things go together fine.”
“It actually looks wonderful and you're sweet for fixing it for me. It's just...”
“It's just what?” 
“It's just that I don't have an appetite.”
“You need to restore your reserves.” Hunter glared. “And I'm not such a vampire that I don't know food is how mortals do it.”
He looked so worried that Donna grinned, sipped the soup, and then nibbled some fruit. The sandwich was just too much to bear.  She picked up the milkshake and took a large swallow. Its sweet chill soothed her throat.  So she swallowed more, leaned against the pillow, closed her eyes and gulped the rest of the milkshake. It froze her insides, which felt good. Then she dozed off, but it must not have been for long, because the empty milkshake glass was still in her hand when she jolted awake. 
Donna frowned at Hunter. “What day is it?”
Hunter shrugged. “Why don't you tell me?”
She thought about it. The last thing she remembered clearly was a phone call from Mo at about midnight on Tuesday...
“Is today Wednesday?” 
Hunter nodded. 
“What time?”
“Just after 3:00.”
“AM or PM?”
“PM.”
Donna groaned. “I missed another day of classes.” She shifted the tray. “Where did all the food come from?” 
“I sent Samee in a cab to go shopping for you.”
Donna giggled. “I bet she had fun.”
Hunter shook his head. “She's really obsessed with food and I don't understand why.” 
Maybe because she’s a normal human being.
“Yeah,” Hunter said.  “Maybe.”  Donna threw him a look.  “Sorry,” he added.
“Samee didn’t get anything with peanuts, did she?”
“No, sweetheart.  I know you’re allergic.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’ve always been.”  He gently kissed the tip of Donna's nose, removed the leftovers, and then carried the tray downstairs.  Dishes clanked for several minutes. The noise set her on edge. Why was she so jumpy? 
When Hunter returned, Donna looked at him with glazed eyes. “I have no idea what happened.” 
“Your mind is protecting you.”
“It's frustrating. I want to know.  Do you know what I mean?”
“I know things I wish I didn't.” Hunter's face was a kaleidoscope of emotions.
“Stephen...” she said quietly, and that made Hunter's jaw clench. Donna frowned. “I might not know my own mind at the moment but, I can tell yours. This wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself.”
He pulled away and stood up.  “Who do you suppose I should blame?” 
Donna's stomach knotted up. “Hunter, please...”
“Now do you understand what we're up against? Why I've been trying so hard to protect you?” He slammed his fist on the bed. She flinched. Hunter didn't notice. “If I would've been here with you instead of out chasing shadows...” Hunter turned away. Donna arose from the bed, painfully followed him and touched his elbow. He whirled around, his eyes fierce - like Stephen's. Donna jumped back. Hunter looked startled and then realized she was reacting to him. He apologized and backed against the wall then slid to the floor. 
“I know you want to always be here for me,” Donna explained. “But you can't. I'm a mortal with countless ways to die. Most of them have nothing to do with Stephen. Have you never considered that?” Hunter’s blank stare assured her he hadn't. “I could walk across the street and get hit by a bus.  I could be caught in the crossfire during a bank robbery. My number could be up at any time and there's nothing either one of us can do about it.” 
Hunter shook his head. “Death can't have you. I won't let it.”
Donna chuckled, which felt good. “Don’t be ridiculous.  You don't have a choice.” She offered her hand.  Hunter took it and they returned to the bed to sit down. “Tell me what happened last night,” she said gently.
Hunter shook his head. “I don't think that's a good idea.” 
“Please. I need to know.”
He sighed. “Okay, but stop me when it gets to be too much. Promise?”
“Promise.” Donna swallowed hard, which burned her swollen throat. 
“We set a trap at The Dark Side for Stephen.”
“Who's we?”
“Me, Samee, Trent and Dante.”  
“Dante?”  Like the subject in Ms. Schmill's painting. 
“He’s my friend,” Hunter explained.  “He and Trent each stood by an exit and Samee kept close to the bathroom in case Stephen had aims to kidnap his next victim from there. Just before closing, a waitress handed Samee a note.”
“The note Mo read to me over the phone?”
Hunter nodded. “That friend of yours barged right up and grabbed the note from Samee shortly before Trent called me. She accused Samee of being part of a vampire plot to take over the world.” Hunter's jaw clenched. “You do know your friend's a pain in the ass, right?” Donna couldn't argue and she didn't want to agree, so she shrugged. “It turns out the note was a distraction. No other girl had been kidnapped from The Dark Side that night.  Stephen tricked us instead of it being the other way around. He'd already come and gone before Samee and the guys even got to The Dark Side last night. Early on in the night, he found a waitress, handed her the note and $100.00. He said to keep her mouth shut until just before closing, then to find the petite reddish-blonde girl named Samee and give her the note.” Hunter snickered. “But, the waitress didn't keep her mouth shut once Dante dangled a 500.00 bill in front of her nose. That's how we eventually put everything together. And when Samee got the note, they thought for sure Stephen had just written it.  So they assumed they had him trapped somewhere in The Dark Side because that's where he's been hanging out. Trent called me for help, and that’s when I left you here alone, confident we had Stephen trapped where he couldn't hurt you.”
Donna tilted her head. “How did Stephen know you guys were planning a trap?”
“My guess is he read Samee's mind at some point the night before. I love that girl,” Hunter sighed. “Unfortunately, her mortal side poses a weakness for me.”
“Then so will mine,” Donna said quietly.  
And that explains why he doesn’t want to tell me anything important.  Keeping me uninformed makes me less of a weakness. 
“Anyway, your nosy friend followed us around like a lost poodle nipping at our heels. I was just about to plan my next meal around her blood type when I overheard her telling Samee I'm shockingly gorgeous...”
“See, she likes you.”
“...for an asshole.”
Donna stifled a laugh. “At least she approves of your looks.”
Hunter curled his lip. “We were just beginning to understand Stephen had played us when a cold chill ran down my back and I knew something was wrong. That was smart of you, sending me the message.”
“He said it would be too late for you to help me.”
“Stephen says a lot of things that aren't true,” Hunter sneered. “I ran like hell, beat everybody else here. You didn't answer the bell so I broke the front door off its hinges.” 
“Oh, shit.  My mom's going to have a fit when she sees that.”
“It's already fixed.  Anyhow, you were unconscious in the living room. Stephen had thrown you through the glass coffee table, but he fled when he felt me getting close. After Trent and Dante arrived, they searched the neighborhood,” Hunter's eyes lowered, “while I tended to you.  You were bleeding…quite a bit.”  He sounded uncomfortable when he said that.
“When did Mo and Samee show up?”
“While I was carrying you to the couch.” 
Donna gasped. “Don't tell me the couch was involved.”
“It was.  We cleaned it up, though.” Donna wondered how “we” cleaned blood out of white linen furniture. “Mo saw me carrying you and naturally she assumed I was doing something terrible to you. So she punched me in the jaw.” 
Donna shrugged apologetically. “She was trying to protect me.” 
“Samee pulled her off me. That kid may be small, but she knows how to fight.” Hunter smiled proudly. “I taught her. She held Mo in a headlock while I took care of you.”
“Why did Samee have Mo in a headlock?”
“Because Mo thought I was killing you and she wanted me to stop it.”  Hunter shifted uncomfortably. “When Stephen does what he does to you, you bleed out. There's no way to stop the bleeding once it starts. Except…” he looked at Donna and cleared his throat. “As much as it pains me to be brothers with Stephen, that fact is the one thing that allowed me to save you.”
“I don't understand.” 
“Life is about balance, Donna.  Chaos and Order.” 
She shook her head. “I'm still confused.”
“Stephen is a cold blooded killer. It’s my job to stop the blood.”
“I'm still not following.” 
Maybe those knocks to the head had done more damage than I realize.
“I counteract my brother.” Hunter looked pointedly at her. “There's black and there's white. There's off and there's on. There's darkness and there's light. There's -”
“- blood draining and blood filling.” She finished his sentence slowly as Hunter's explanation sunk in. “You fed me your blood. Stephen drained, you filled. That's why I vomited blood. It was your blood.  Or is it more correct to say it was the blood of somebody whose neck you sucked?” A new wave of nausea washed over her.  She stumbled to the corner.  
Terrible surprises…
“You gave me some poor, innocent person’s blood, didn’t you?”
“I knew you'd be put off by it.”
“Of course I'm put off by it.”
“I had to save your life. You mean more to me than anything.” 
Donna’s breathing quickened. “So this is about you?” 
“I'm not reading your mind here, Donna.” Hunter's brow furrowed and he shook his head. “You need to help me out. I knew you’d be turned off by the idea, but I don't understand -”
“You don't understand why I'd be mad that you Turned me by using somebody else’s blood?” 
Hunter's face changed from complete confusion to mild amusement. “Is that what you think? Donna, you're not a vampire.” 
“But I thought -” 
Hunter shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart, but that's not how blood giving works with Eternal Partners. When I absorbed that blood it became mine.  And my blood is so closely linked with yours that your body thinks it's just getting a transfusion. There's no way for me to Turn you by blood exchange.” 
“So,” Donna shook her head. “You're saying I'm not a vampire?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? I am a vampire?”
Hunter shook his head. “No. I mean, yes.  You aren't a vampire. It's just that Stephen knows how to bleed out a person slowly and painfully. There's no stopping it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then how did you stop it?”
“My blood heals you.” Hunter gingerly touched Donna's face. “In fact, you're healing already.”
She rushed to the mirror and gasped. The purple had faded to apple red and the puffiness around her eye had gone down by half. 
If I can heal this quickly in only a couple of hours, what did I look like right after the attack? 
The milkshake churned in Donna's stomach. “How bad was I when you found me?” 
Hunter shook his head. 
“Did Mo see me like that?” 
“I'm afraid so.”
Donna gasped. “She's going to kill me for not telling her about you.” 
Hunter chuckled. “She wouldn't have believed you anyway. Most mortals don't think the Underworld is real.”
“Are you kidding me?  The more far-fetched a story is the more likely Mo is to believe it.” 
“She had trouble believing this one,” Hunter admitted. “In fact, I had to restrain her to keep her out of the way.”
Donna rubbed her temples and flinched when her finger made contact with the swollen side. “I don't even want to know what you mean by 'restrain.’”
“Oh, good.” Hunter looked relieved, at least until Donna threw him a hard look.  Then he sighed.  “Okay...well unfortunately, Samee used the only restraining device she could find in a pinch, which happened to be a plastic garbage bag from your kitchen. Even though I wrapped up Mo good and tight to the railing in your stairway, she worked her way through it pretty quickly and then came at me with a spindle she forced out of the railing.” 
Donna cringed. “Oh God.  Poor Mo.  Would it have killed you to take ten seconds to explain things to her?” 
“No, but it would have killed you.” 
“My life was that close to over?”
Hunter looked at her severely.  “Yes, sweetheart.  Time was not on our side.  My back was turned and your dimwitted friend tried to stake me with the spindle. It wasn't even sharp enough to do any real damage.”
“Well, at least she tried.”
Hunter's eyebrow lifted. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry,” Donna blushed. “What I mean is she tried to help - in her own way.”
“In her own way, Mo almost killed you. Her staking wouldn't have damaged me, but it would've slowed me down enough that you wouldn't have survived.” 
“Oh…”
“Samee saw Mo coming at me from behind and yelled, 'Watch out!'  I threw my arm back.” Hunter looked apologetically at Donna. “I didn't even think about it.  It was sheer instinct.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I elbowed her in the chest.” 
“No!”  Donna's hand went to her mouth, she gasped. 
“But before you get mad -”
“Too late,” Donna said with a catch in her voice.
“She landed against the edge of that cushy chair in your living room.” 
Donna groaned. “The baby...” 
“The baby's fine,” Hunter tried to take Donna's hand, but she snapped it back. “Your friend has an overactive imagination.” 
“She has a protective nature,” Donna snapped. 
“Mo and I dislike each other,” he admitted. 
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No, but here's something that might help.” Hunter kissed the tip of Donna's nose. “Someone we both love is alive and that might be all we need to keep from killing each other.”
chapter fifteen


Hunter and Donna lay down together and cuddled in the only position that didn't make her hurt. They remained like that until nightfall, when somebody knocked frantically on the front door.
“Your hideous friend is here.” Hunter thudded down the stairs while Donna stepped up to the mirror to examine the progress of her injury. The bruise was impressively faded. At this rate, she might be back to normal by tomorrow. 
A cacophony of cussing and complaining wound its way up the stairs. 
“Shut up, blood-sucker,” said Mo.
“I'd like to say the same to you, but there's no shutting up that hair.” 
“Kiss my ass.”
The door burst open and a frowning Mo clomped in the room, followed closely by a scowling Hunter. “Now do you believe me?” Hunter snapped at Mo. “As you can see, she's fine.” Hunter gestured toward Donna.
“I'll be the judge of that. Back off.” Mo swiped at him and stuck her nose close to Donna's cheek. Her gaze darted from Donna's eye to her cheek and then back again. Mo squinted, muttered, and then pressed a finger lightly to Donna's temple.  Donna flinched. Mo whirled to face Hunter. 
“You call that fine? Look at her! She's in pain. Since this is your fault, blood-sucker, what are you going to do to fix it?” Mo glared hard at him. Hunter glared back. And Donna stood there, wondering why the universe had decided to deliver two of its most unreasonable inhabitants to the middle of her life. 
Hunter's nostrils flared and his lip twitched. “I know you're Donna's best friend-”
“Damn right I am. I've known her since kindergarten. How long have you known her, blood-sucker?”
Hunter opened his mouth to speak but ended up shaking his head.  When he finally did say something, it was to Donna.  “I'm going for a walk. Don't leave the house.” He turned and was down the stairs before she could even blink.
Mo cupped her hands and shouted, “I hope you aren't that fast with everything you do!” She turned back to Donna and winked. Donna smacked her arm. The front door slammed shut, almost hard enough to knock it back off its hinges. Mo faced Donna, her expression instantly softening.
“How are you really, Donna? Is he being an asshole to you?”
“I'm fine.”  Donna folded her arms. “Hunter isn't being an asshole to me. But you're certainly being one to him and I'd like to know why.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “Because he's a vampire.”
“So?”
Mo's eyes widened. “So? He's undead. Can't stand garlic. Melts in the sun. Slurps blood.” 
Donna shrugged. “Nobody's perfect.”
“He acts like he owns you. He dines on bodily fluids while the rest of us use the drive thru.” Mo's hands went to her hips. “If it weren't for him-”
“-If it weren't for him, I'd be dead.” 
“If it weren't for his psycho brother, you would've been fine all along.” Mo's bottom eyelids pooled with tears and her voice quivered. 
Donna opened her arms. “Come here, please.” Mo stepped into the embrace then the cascading of tears came, complete with heaving and breath-catching. The tough girl who never cried had now cried twice in one day.
“It was horrible.” Mo sobbed while Donna led her to the bed and they sat. “You were so - there was so much blood. And your breathing was – it was awful! You convulsed and – it was horrible! I never, ever want to see you like that again.” Mo looked at Donna. “Promise me you'll never look like that again.”
Donna smiled sadly. “I can't promise you that. But I can promise you I'll try to stay safe from now on. And I want you to promise me you'll be nicer to Hunter. He did save my life, after all.” 
Mo sniffed. “He looks like a freak and acts like a freak. You know what they say - if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…”
Donna grabbed tissues and handed them to Mo. “They also say - don't judge a person until you've walked in their shoes. Hunter's feet have walked a very difficult life, Mo.” 
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I bet sleeping in a coffin all day is pretty hard work. And anyway, his temper is like a raging storm.”
“Storms pass.”
“So do kidney stones, but only after causing much pain and suffering to the victim.”
Donna rubbed the back of her neck. It felt a little stiff. “I understand why you're angry with Hunter. He has a tendency to come at people like a ferocious dog. But if you back down and give him a chance, you'll see how nice he really is.”
“If that dog pees on my leg, I'll castrate him.” 
Donna chuckled. “He's a vampire, not a house pet.”
“You called him a dog first. Anyway, I'm hungry. What's in your fridge?” 
Donna didn't have a clue. “All I know is there’s no peanut butter.  Hunter sent Samee grocery shopping.”
“Well, let's go see if that kid's got better taste in food than she does in big brothers.”
They headed downstairs. Mo rounded the corner in the entryway and made a beeline for the kitchen while Donna turned toward the living room doorway to examine the damage done to the showroom furniture. To her relief, everything looked perfectly normal. 
“Yum!” Mo exclaimed from the kitchen. “Fortune has smiled on us today.” She stood at the fridge, her hair glowing neon against the fluorescent fridge light and her nose shoved between shelves. “I'm eating for two,” she explained, “so I have to eat often.” Donna watched and waited while Mo made her choices. A soda and an ice cream bar from the fridge. From the cupboard, a bag of chips and a new jar of salsa. Donna wondered what “eating for two” would look like in another few months. Mo pulled open the chip bag and stuck one in her mouth. “Mmmm,” she grinned wide. “Samee's a good shopper. There might be hope for that girl yet.” She clutched her selections and indicated for Donna to follow.  When they arrived at the living room entry, Mo dropped a chip on the floor and gasped. 
“What’s wrong?” Donna reached down for the chip then quickly took the soda, which was precariously balanced between two of Mo's fingers. Mo whirled around, looked at the staircase and gasped again.
“Here, hold this.” She pushed her food at Donna who fumbled it around in her arms until everything felt stable.  Mo squinted at the stair spindles then reached out and then touched several before grabbing one and pulling it with all her might. 
“Mo, what are you doing? You're going to break it.”
“That's exactly the point,” she stared wild-eyed. “It was broken. Now it's not.” Mo frowned at the spindle. “It was this one right here, or maybe the one next to it. Either way, I broke out one of these spindles and I took the longest half to impale Hunter. Now it's fixed, as if nothing happened. It’s just weird.  And then in here,” Mo gestured toward the living room, “the coffee table was smashed and the sofa was drenched in blood.” 
“Yeah, I heard.” Donna recoiled.    
“Sorry,” Mo offered an apologetic look. “But it was bad in here. Whoever cleaned up and fixed everything is a damned miracle worker.” Mo plodded around the living room and examined the area with wonder. After convincing herself that everything was put back exactly as it should be, she set her soda and the ice cream on the antique side table, got comfortable, dipped a chip in salsa and crunched it. “Mmmmm,” she moaned. “That guy's so cute.”
Donna looked around the room. “What guy?”
“Oh, sorry,” Mo chuckled and then swallowed her chip. “I was thinking about him but I guess I forgot to say it out loud. Trent – he’s one of Hunter's friends. Anyhow, he's cute, I think. I was kind of busy worrying about you.”
“Thanks for staying with me.”
Mo burped. “If you really want to thank me, reconsider snuggling up with that freak.”
“Hunter's my Eternal Partner.”
“Hunter's a blood-sucker.” Mo held another salsa-slathered chip that was perfectly poised to drop a glob right on the white sofa. She slurped the juicy mess just in the nick of time and then chomped the chip. “Couldn’t you have hooked up with a zombie instead?”
“I don’t want a zombie.  I want Hunter.”
“The blood-sucker.”  Mo emphasized blood-sucker.  “What if you wind up knocked up from this blood-sucker? Huh? Then what?”
“Vampires can't reproduce,” Donna explained.
“Is that what he told you?”  
“He said we've lived many lifetimes together and in each one, we never could have kids.”
Mo tilted her head. “What does he mean by 'many lifetimes?’”
“He doesn't die, but I do. He waits for me to come back.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “You've been reincarnated and ended up with that same blood-sucker every time? Can't he pick on somebody else?”
“I don't want him to pick on somebody else.”
Mo burped and then closed the chip bag.  She grinned wide. “I bet I've been your best friend in every one of those lives.” 
Donna chuckled. “I can't imagine my lives without you.”
“Can you ask him about that?  See if we’ve been reincarnated best friends forever?”  Mo didn't wait for an answer. “I know we have been, no matter what he says.  You do know there's a link between the mayor, the kidnapped girls and the minion behavior of our local police force, don't you?” 
Donna didn’t know how anybody could change subjects so damned fast.  She nodded.  “Yeah.”  
Mo re-opened the chip bag and the salsa jar and scooped up some salsa with a chip. “That link is vampire activity.”
“And?”
“And your boyfriend's a vampire.” Mo chomped the chip.
“So is his brother, who's the evil one.”
“So your blood-sucker says.” Mo scooped up her leftovers, then shuffled back to the kitchen and put everything away. 
That’s one of the great things about Mo. She cleans up after herself - just like a vampire.  Donna looked with relief around her mother’s showcase living room then followed Mo to the kitchen.  She wanted to tell Mo to stop investigating the kidnappings, but being told to not do something would only embolden Mo to do more of it. 
Mo examined the progress of Donna's face. “You're healing fast. I'll give that much to your blood-sucker.  Well, the monster won't come back until I'm gone. So, I'm gone.”  She trotted to the foyer.
“Thanks for checking in on me,” Donna said. “And be careful.”
Mo opened the door. “You should take your own advice. How careful is it to snuggle up to something that should be dead and buried but refuses to stay that way?” Then she left.
Within seconds of Mo’s departure, Hunter reappeared. 
“We have a problem,” Donna crossed her arms and faced him. “Mo knows too much. I'm afraid she's going to get hurt.”
“Everything will be okay. I promise.”
Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
“You either,” he said.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“It means,” Hunter glowered, “the next time you promise to stay where I ask you to – please do it.”  
chapter sixteen


Donna woke up to daylight.  She was alone.  A note was on the bed stand.
“Don't worry, you're being guarded. Love, Hunter.”
She rolled over and stretched. What was it with him? One minute he was afraid to let her go to the bathroom unsupervised, and the next he left her in utter solitude. Well, as long as the “guard” kept his evil distance, she supposed she could take some comfort in knowing somebody was keeping Stephen and his minions at bay. 
Donna got up and went to her computer.  She clicked “vampires and children” in the search field. Lots of stuff came up: 
Vampires and the blood of newborn children 
Vampires and children's blood
Children - Halloween costumes – ghost and vampire 
Not what I want to know…
Donna keyed in - Can vampires reproduce? 
The very first result: “CAN VAMPIRES REPRODUCE?” She clicked the first link and was taken to an exhaustively long information page. 
Exactly how many vampires are having sex with mortals out there? 
Donna spent half the day finding out. She discovered that half-Underworld / half-human children were rare, but not unheard of.  She learned that the baby of such a union with a vampire would have mortal and vampire traits, which seemed logical. She also learned the offspring would be born with a highly evolved immune system, meaning it would rarely get normal mortal illnesses and it would never require vaccinations. In fact, vaccinations could damage the fragile balance between mortal and Underworld DNA. That made Donna wonder how she would get their kid enrolled in school without proof of vaccinations. 
But...Hunter promised we'd never get pregnant. 
Donna scoffed at herself for even thinking about it.  She read more. 
“Pregnancy hormones in a mortal female impregnated by a male vampire can be detected in as few as 24 hours. This is due to the speedy metabolic nature of vampire DNA.” 
Another site stated, “The gestation period of a coupling between a vampire male and mortal female is not typical of a mortal one.” 
Not typical? What does that mean? 
Donna wound up with more questions than she'd started out with, typical of most internet searches she'd ever done. And there was nothing anywhere to suggest a vampire couldn't reproduce. Maybe only her vampire couldn’t.
But what if Hunter isn't the infertile one? 
Donna recalled the whimsical way he'd gazed at that family at the Commons and her insides turned cold. Maybe it was she who couldn't have kids and he was just trying to spare her the truth. That would be so like Hunter.  Donna grabbed her phone and texted Mo.  
Call me @ lunch.
She did.  “Do you need rescued from the Impaler?”
“I need you to drop by the store and get me something.”
“Why can't you go?  Is he holding you hostage again?” 
Donna examined her injuries in the mirror.  Not a lot of improvement.  “He left me a note telling me to stay home today.” 
“And you're going to do it because he says so?”
“I'm going to do it because the last time he told me to stay somewhere and I didn't, Stephen almost killed me.”
Mo sighed. “Fine. What do you need me to pick up?”
Donna swallowed hard. “A pregnancy test.”
“Damn it!” Mo exclaimed.  Then her tone became sympathetic. “Okay. I'll drop by before I go to work.”
“Thanks.”
“You know how you can thank me,” Mo said.  “Dump the blood-sucker.”  She hung up.
Donna dragged herself to the shower.  But first, she observed her injuries in the mirror again.  Indeed, not an ounce of improvement since last night.  She'd have to ask Hunter about that. Still, compared to how she'd first seen herself, she really shouldn’t complain now. 
She went downstairs and sifted through what Samee had bought. Onions, eggs, soda, Popsicles, chocolate-covered pretzels, hot dogs, whole wheat bread, orange juice, marshmallows, cheddar and pepper jack cheese, lettuce, rib eye steak, microwave popcorn, bananas, and nothing containing peanuts. Donna chuckled at the thought of Samee let loose in the supermarket with Hunter's debit card and a cab ride home. She pulled a container of strawberry yogurt from the fridge and poured a glass of chocolate milk.  She moaned in pleasure because the cold felt like sweet relief against her throat. She scrolled through her phone until she found Hunter's name and then she almost pressed the number.  
No.  He’s the one who left me without a kiss.  Let him do the calling. 
Donna walked to the closest window and looked out. She hated knowing she was being guarded by that horrid hit man so she flipped shut every curtain on the first floor and went upstairs to study French.  She wound up doodling in her notebook margins; a tall, dark, dreadful man with scraggly hair and eyes the color of blood. She sketched his likeness over and over again until she felt tired – in fact, overwhelmed by exhaustion. Donna set down the pencil, laid her head on the desk, and within minutes she was blissfully, dreamlessly asleep. 
She was startled awake by somebody beating on the front door, but before she had a chance to react, her phone rang. 
“Hello Mo,” she said groggily. “Can you hold on? Somebody's at the -”
“Are you going to let me in?  Or are you going to let me stand outside your front door like an idiot?” 
“Um...”
“Just let me in.” 
Donna lumbered downstairs, still half asleep, and opened the door. 
“Here.” Mo shoved a pregnancy test box in Donna's face. She grabbed it and hurried upstairs to her bathroom, Mo following close behind.  Donna stood over the sink and tried to pry open the box with trembling hands, but when she knocked over the purple toothbrush holder, Mo snapped up the pregnancy test box. “Give me that.”  She handed Donna the test stick. “Here.  Take this. Pee on it. If it turns blue, you're pregnant. If it stays white, you're not.” She primped in the mirror while Donna sat on the toilet trying to pee.
“I can’t pee on command.”  
Mo turned around, surveyed Donna on the toilet, tilted her head and squinted. 
“Wait here and I'll be right back.” Mo flung open the bathroom door and ran downstairs.
“Where are you going?” Donna asked. Mo didn't respond.  A few moments later, kitchen cupboards slammed and something crashed to the floor.
“Oops!” Mo hollered. “Tell your mother I'm sorry.” More slamming and clattering then she thudded back upstairs carrying something. “Here. This will help you pee.” She presented it to Donna. 
Donna raised her eyebrow. “A cereal bowl?” 
“No, silly. A cereal bowl filled with warm water.” Mo ran the bowl full of water that turned out to be more hot than warm, but when Donna placed her hand in, sure enough, she peed. Mo chuckled. “This would make a great picture for the college paper. We could title it, 'Test Taking: Get Better Results with a Steaming Hot Bowl of H2o'.”
Donna pulled the strip out and looked. 
“It's white,” she said in relief.  “I'm not pregnant!” A wave of remorse hit her next, which surprised her. 
“Slow down, hyper-drive. You have to wait five minutes for the results.”
“But, you said -”
“Five minutes,” Mo pressed her hands together and rubbed them. 
“Damn it, Mo. Stop being like that.”
Mo tilted her head again. “Being like what?” 
“Calm. It doesn't fit you.” Donna bit her nails and watched the stick.
“Give me that.” Mo set the stick on the counter, emptied the cereal bowl and placed it over the stick. “It will just drive you crazy to look at it,” she rolled her eyes. “Trust me.”
Donna paced the room, sat on the edge of the toilet and plucked purple fibers from the lid cover, turned the sink faucet on and off a few times, cleaned the toilet and then furled and unfurled toilet paper from the holder. 
“How long has it been?” she asked. Mo held up three fingers. Donna groaned, counted floor tiles and rubbed a smudge off the mirror. “How long has it been now?”
“Thirty seconds since the last time you asked.” Mo stroked Donna's hair and spoke tenderly. “I know how you feel. Well, sort of. I've gone through the pee test part.”
“But you haven't gone through the 'I wonder if my baby will be allergic to sunlight' part.” Donna stopped chewing her fingernails long enough to rub her temples, even the sore one. 
Mo examined her for a moment then asked, “If you're pregnant, what will you do?”
“If my baby inherits Hunter's traits, then I can't very well put it up for adoption.” She could just see it now; her sweet, innocent offspring at the dining room table...sprouting fangs and demanding blood while the rest of the family passed the ketchup. 
“I meant abortion,” Mo chewed her bottom lip. 
Donna shook her head. “I don't know. I haven't thought about it.”
“Having a baby with a vampire surely isn't going to be easy,” Mo pointed out. 
“Even normal pregnancies aren't easy.”
“This one's going to result in a baby who's very different.”
“We don't know that,” Donna’s tone escalated. “My baby could be completely normal.”
“And if it isn't?” 
“My baby will be normal.” Donna wanted to scream at Mo for making her think about this stuff. Mo took Donna's hand and looked in her eyes. 
“I won't tell you what to do but, I'll be here no matter what you choose to do.” 
“Thanks.” Donna smiled weakly. 
“And I'll love the little freak even though it's half blood-sucker.  In fact, it might be kind of fun to be Aunty-Mo to a half-human kid.”  She checked her phone. “It's time. Let's see if you're going to be a mommy.” 
Why does she have to say it like that? 
Mo placed a hand on the bowl and Donna sat on the bathtub edge, biting her nails. “Do you want to look first, or do you want me to?”
“You do it. I can't.” Donna's skin felt tight - like it wanted to grab the rest of her and crawl down the bathtub drain. Mo swallowed hard, lifted the bowl, peered underneath.
“Ah…”
Donna scowled. “What in the hell does that mean?”
“It's blue,” Mo said. 
Donna stared at her. 
“You're pregnant.” 
For some reason, Donna's ears started ringing.  She wasn't sure she'd heard right. 
“You're knocked up, got a bun in the oven. The rabbit died.” 
Mo’s voice sounded far away and not quite real. And why did the air feel like sludge? Mo said something else but Donna had no idea what she was talking about until Mo took Donna's face in her hands and spoke slowly. 
“You're hyperventilating, Donna. Keep your head low, breathe.” Mo placed a hand on each of Donna's shoulders and gently, but firmly pushed her head to her knees. She rubbed Donna's back, brushed her hair and cooed “breathe deeply” until Donna did. After a few tormenting minutes, the ringing in her ears stopped and she raised her head to look at Mo. 
“The test could be wrong, right?” 
Mo stroked Donna's forehead. “Technically, yes.  But they rarely ever are.” 
“What am I going to do?” Donna looked up desperately at her friend. Mo pressed her lips together and whipped out her phone.  She called in to work, said she’d be late due to a family emergency.  Then she sat on the bathtub edge with her friend and took her hand.  
They discussed Donna's options until night fell. When the front door slammed shut and Hunter announced himself, Mo pulled Donna to her feet. 
“Take a deep breath,” Mo urged.  Donna did, but her hands shook. “Relax,” Mo said. “You don't have to tell him now. Tell him when you're ready.” 
“What if he finds out anyway? He can read my mind if he wants to.”
Mo held Donna's hands until they stopped trembling. “He might be a mind-reading blood-sucker, but he’s also a guy. Once they've gotten what they want from a girl, they don't care what's on her mind anymore.” Mo winked, opened the door and Donna planted a fake smile on her face while trying to keep her mind blank. “Call me later,” Mo said. Then the bedroom door opened and Hunter stormed in, glaring at Mo. 
“Are you driving that Sentra?” 
“What do you care?” Mo snarled.
“The front tire's low.”
“Did you pierce it with a fang?” Mo thudded down the stairs.
Hunter yelled after her.  “I’m simply pointing out that you might want to air it up because a front tire blow out can be dangerous.  You're welcome.” 
The front door slammed shut in response. Hunter grinned lopsidedly at Donna, but when he noticed her dour mood, he frowned. 
“Are you okay?”
“I have a headache.” 
Hunter snorted. “After a conversation with that obnoxious one, I'm not surprised.”
Donna bit her pinkie nail until she realized she was doing it.  Then she balled up her fists at her sides. “I need to...take a nap.” She felt guilty lying to him, but she needed time to figure things out.
“Okay, sweetheart. I'll be downstairs. Hope you feel better soon.” Hunter pecked her on the cheek and offered her a concerned look before going downstairs. 
Donna flopped on her bed. 
What if he decides to hate me when he finds out? And where on earth will I find a doctor to deliver a vampire child? 
Vivid images of an old, chintzy horror movie came to her. A mother gave birth to a baby that immediately went after the delivery nurse, then the doctor, killing them both because it craved blood.  The mother wouldn't let anybody hurt the baby, even after it killed in cold blood. Donna wondered if she'd be like that movie mother...and if her baby would be like that movie baby. 
What am I going to do?
Donna opened the bedroom door and called downstairs. “Hunter?” 
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Could you bring me a soda?” In less than three seconds, Hunter stood next to her, holding a can. She popped it and took a sip, smiling weakly. He grinned back. 
“Hit the spot?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks.  How often do you have to feed?” 
The grin evaporated. “We've already discussed this.”
“I know,” Donna looked at the floor. “I just...how much do you think it takes to feed a ba -?”
“Dante’s here.”  Hunter's expression darkened.  
“Your friend?”
“And roommate.”  
Donna looked out the window. “I don't see anybody.”
“He will be.”  Hunter’s jaw tightened.  “But he wouldn't be here unless something's wrong.” 
Donna heard and saw a motorcycle pull in the driveway.  Before she could ask about it, Hunter thundered down the stairs.  Donna set down her soda can and scrambled to the top of the staircase to look down. A couple of guys stood in the entryway, talking to Hunter in low voices. One had close cut, black hair.  The other was tall and thin, with light brown long hair.  He looked up the stairs.  Donna backed away, but he’d already seen her.  
“My phone battery died,” Donna heard Hunter explain. “That's what happens when people call all day and night.” 
Donna strained to hear more, but the conversation ended abruptly.  Hunter dashed up the stairs, demanding Donna follow him. His eyes blazed with anger...or was it something else? 
“It's Samee,” he said.  “She's missing.”
“She's probably out having fun like a normal high school girl. Hunter, you should let the poor kid have some space -”
“Dante was just at the house. He showed up right after I came back over here. There are signs of a struggle.  And there's blood, though it’s not hers. The kitchen looks like a war zone…” Hunter trailed off.
“Stephen?” She felt numb at the thought of what that monster would do to poor little Samee. 
“Or one of his minions.” Hunter’s lip twitched, exposing a fang.
“What are we going to do?” Donna bit her fingernails.
Hunter put on his jacket. “Dante's staying here with you.  Trent's going with me because he runs almost as fast as I do. We'll find her.”
“I'll be all alone with a guy I don't even know?” Donna wasn't sure she felt comfortable staying with a strange guy...and with a name she associated with that awful Ms. Schmill. “Why can't I go with you?”
Hunter's eyes clouded over, a thunderstorm rolling in. “Damn it, Donna. I can't babysit you and find Samee at the same time.” 
“Babysit?” 
Hunter shook his head. “I didn't mean it like that.” He turned and disappeared down the stairs, without even giving her a kiss. Donna shut the bedroom door and leaned against it, expecting tears to come, but they didn't. She also expected Hunter to burst back in like a tornado - declaring he had changed his mind and wanted her to join him. But that didn't happen, either. Instead, the front door crashed closed in Hunter's wake.  Donna was alone in the storm and Samee was lost in it. A couple of mere mortals, unprepared for the shadow side of the Underworld, and Hunter trying to protect them both. She sat on her bed and felt numb until a soft knock landed on the bedroom door a few seconds later. It was unlike Hunter’s usual style, but maybe he felt humbled by his lack of consideration.  Donna dashed to the door and flung it open. 
“Thanks for -” Standing in front of Donna was the long haired guy from downstairs. Up close, his eyes matched his hair, both the color of sand. His features were strong; Roman nose, chiseled jaw line, tall forehead. His pale skin was flawless but for a small scar under his right eye. He was tall and broad-shouldered like Hunter.  He looked a little older than Hunter, too - maybe thirty. A faint aroma of sea breeze clung to him. 
“Hello, love.  You must be Donna.” 
“Um,” she stammered. He offered a long, slim hand and she stared at it for a moment before realizing she was supposed to shake it. 
“It's a shame we're meeting under less than ideal circumstances, but I'm nonetheless pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her skin tingled at his touch. “My name is Dante.” 
“Oh, okay.  Hi.  I’m Donna.”
Donna stood there feeling awkward while Dante leaned against the door for a moment before motioning toward the injured side of Donna's face. “Stephen did that?” 
She nodded. “Hunter fixed most of it, but then it got to this point and seems to be stuck here.” 
“I can fix it for you,” Dante said gently. “May I come in, love?”
“You're actually asking? Hunter doesn't usually bother.” She indicated for Dante to enter.
“Hunter's ways are unique.” Dante chuckled. It reminded Donna of wind chimes. “May I sit, love?”
“Um...”  Why am I stumbling over my words like they’re rocks on the sidewalk? “Yes, please.” 
He sat on the bed and motioned for Donna to follow.  She stood back, at least until Dante smiled, revealing a dazzling pair of fangs. Something in that smile lured her in...she sat. 
“Close your eyes, love.” 
Donna complied. 
“Now lie down and relax.” 
She did. 
“May I touch you?” 
Donna wanted to say no, but instead she slowly nodded her head. Dante gently rested his hands against her temples, which warmed with his touch just as Hunter's hands had done. 
“Relax,” he whispered. She did as he said.  Before long, light blue smoke whirled across her field of vision, followed by pink and lavender. Donna’s bedroom fell away and she stood on a peaceful, moonlit beach. 
“I'm dreaming,” she whispered. “But I don't want to dream because Stephen -” She turned to run, but Dante whispered in her ear.
“All is well, love. Listen to the tide.” 
“No -” But the ocean whispered, a gentle breeze brushed against her skin and sand tickled between her goddess toes. Soon Donna felt lulled and languid and almost without form, as if she was part of the air and sand around her. Dante was there with his hand extended. 
“Come to me,” he said. She did. He took her injured face in his hands and spoke. “You mustn't feel afraid. You must feel safe so you may heal.” His voice was like a bird, effortlessly tilting to embrace the wind. 
“But,” she whispered, “I can't.” 
“Yes you can. The bruise on your face is the outward expression of the bruise that's in here,” Dante pointed to her head, “and here,” he pointed to her heart. “For your face to heal, so must your head and your heart.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I don't know if I can ever forget what Stephen did.”
“You don't have to forget, love,” Dante's smile was as wide as the horizon. “You simply have to own it, rather than it owning you.”
“I don't understand,” She shook her head. A seagull stood on the sand next to them, its feathers ruffled. It watched Donna. 
“As long as you hold to the fear, Stephen has control of your head and of your heart. Now do you understand?” 
“I…think so.”
“I would like to take your fear and toss it to the wind. May I?” She nodded. Dante's hand brushed against the side of her face and it filled her cheek with warmth. Similar sensations danced through her head and chest. The warmth increased until it felt almost hot. 
“It's starting to burn,” Donna whispered.
“Fear is a burning emotion that doesn't release its hold without a fight.” 
The burn increased.  “It hurts. Please make it stop.”
“I can't make it stop,” Dante spoke softly. “I can only make it leave. And when it does, you may stop it from returning.”
“It's too painful. I can't do this. I can't -”
“I'm here with you, Donna. Your power lies beneath the pain.” Donna's heart felt like it would rupture and her head seared from somewhere deep inside. Her entire body felt ablaze with pain. She screamed, cried, and begged for the pain to stop. And eventually, it did. The scalding slowly cooled, mercifully burning itself out. But it seemed to take forever, and all the while Dante stayed with her. When the heat subsided, in its place came tranquility and something that almost felt like determination. Donna felt utterly exhausted. Dante removed his hands from her face and slowly lifted them skyward. Swirls of gray and coal emerged then were carried away with the wind. The seagull took to the sky, cawing until the breeze carried it out of earshot.
“Your fear is tossed to the wind, Donna.” Dante touched her forehead. “And in its place, I give you empowerment.” A burst of white light cracked through her vision field, momentarily blinding her. She blinked several times until her sight returned. And what she saw was beautiful. Nothing had changed; the sky was still blue and the sand still golden.  But it was as if she were seeing it clearly for the first time. Donna smiled and then she laughed. 
“I feel different.”
Dante nodded. “You are different, love. You are no longer owned by fear. Now you lead by self-confidence - like a warrior.” 
I’m not sure he’s right about that.  Mo’s more the fighter type. 
But Donna smiled, breathing in sweet, seaside air. 
“You should purify in the ocean, love. When you emerge, you'll feel renewed.” He indicated toward the water's edge and Donna made her way to it, letting the tide lap her ankles and the soft waves call her. She stepped in deeper, until the water was to her waist. She raised her arms and dove under the waves, swimming toward the western horizon, against the tide, pushing out further and deeper. She swam against the tide until her lungs felt on fire and she knew she could go no further.  Then Donna turned around, caught a wave and let it carry her back to shore. By the time she stood with her feet firmly planted in the sand, her eyes burned from the salt and her whole being felt lighter than air. Her summer dress was soaked. Dante stood on the shore reaching out to her. 
“Now, Donna. You are master of your own direction. You may recall the past without fear, the future with purpose.” 
Something in her belly moved. She gasped. 
“That's your baby stirring to life inside of you,” Dante smiled. 
He knows about the baby. I wonder if he knows how many of Hunter's traits it will have.
 “Donna,” Dante said softly, but sternly. “Open your eyes and take the power of your healing into the world.” 
“Do I have to?”  She didn't want to come back to the world.  She liked the peace that came with this place.  Dante assured her she could take that feeling with her anywhere she went if she chose to. So she opened her eyes and was back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. 
“You may see yourself anew now.” Dante indicated toward the mirror. Donna went to it, observing her reflection and touched her face. She spun around and smiled at Dante. 
“The bruise is completely gone! How did you do that?” 
Dante chuckled. “I just opened the energy pathways, love. You did the work.”
“But -”
“But how did I start the process so you could heal?” His smile went from ear to ear. “Vampires used to be mortals, love. We have strengths, weakness and predispositions, just like mortals do. When we Turn, we keep those virtues and vices and they become magnified,” he winked, “especially to the uninitiated mortal.” 
“What were your strengths before the Turn?” Donna touched her face. There wasn't as much as a tender spot anywhere on it.
“Come now. You can guess, can't you?”
She shrugged. “A doctor?”
Dante grinned. His was not crooked, like Hunter's, but perfectly symmetrical. “I was a healer.”
That made sense. “Was Hunter a healer too?” 
“No,” Dante shook his head. “Hunter can heal you because of your Eternal Partner connection.”
“Then what was he?”
Dante frowned. “It's certainly odd that Hunter did not divulge this information to you already.” 
Donna chuckled. “Hunter isn't big on divulging.” 
“That's true,” Dante nodded sympathetically.   “Do your best not to hold it against him love, because you see, Hunter's talent is precisely dependent upon concealment and careful strategy. It's in his DNA, as they say these days.  Before the Turn, he was a warrior.”
A warrior…Donna smiled.
“His brother -”
“Stephen?”
Dante nodded. “Stephen had been in the army for three years. Hunter looked up to his older brother, even though the two had little in common other than blood. For Hunter, being a warrior was about honor.” 
“I know Hunter's a man of honor,” Donna folded her hands on her lap. “He took in Samee.” 
Dante paused for several moments and his eyes glazed over like he was somewhere else. 
“Hunter was my dearest friend,” he finally said. “When he was terribly wounded and sent home from the battlefield, it was painful to me.” Dante looked at Donna. “Hunter was one of the army's best men.” 
“One of the best men,” she repeated quietly. 
“Hunter arrived home from the war injured, and to a desperate situation. His father had died from a lingering illness and Stephen had disappeared during a battle and was assumed dead. Hunter's mother and two young sisters were alone. Needless to say, they were grateful to see him, even as a wounded soldier. They finally had a man in the house again.”
“Back then, women didn't survive well on their own, did they?” 
“Most did not,” Dante admitted.
“I'm glad I live now.”
“You lived then too, love.  Hunter was home for many months, during which time he healed from his injuries, which surprised everybody because back then, medical techniques and preparations were Spartan, to say the least.  He had intended to rejoin the battle, but when the king learned of Hunter’s great battlefield talent and his seemingly-magical recovery, he was called to assist that king in protecting the kingdom.  It was a great honor. And somehow during his paltry time off from duties, Hunter fell in love with the girl of his dreams.” Dante winked at Donna.
“Me?” Her stomach filled with butterflies.
“Yes love, you. And it's been you ever since.” Dante sighed. “I knew nothing of this and I didn't even know whether Hunter was still alive. I kept fighting because that's what we were expected to do. When warriors became injured, I lay down my sword and tended to their wounds as best I could, which was more natural to me anyway than fighting.”
“I understand that,” Donna said. “I don't care to fight, either.”
Dante lifted an eyebrow. “In all likelihood, it will someday be pressed upon you to change your mind about that.” She wanted to ask Dante what he meant, but he quickly turned back to the story. “One fateful day, about a year after Hunter had been sent home, I sustained a severe injury, the kind which was destined to end my life right there on the battlefield.  I was taken to camp, but not attended to much as my wounds were considered so severe that the best that could be done was to comfort me with a warm blanket and quiet corner in which to die. I summoned what small strength I had left and tried to heal myself, but there was too much damage. My legs were shattered, my chest crushed and my breathing was labored. A healer knows, love, when the person he is trying to heal can't be helped. So I prepared to die.”
Donna nodded sympathetically. “I'm so sorry.”
“Night fell, yet merciful death still had not taken me.  Only ruthless pain had. I slipped in and out of consciousness and became increasingly disoriented. When I finally saw Hunter, I thought he'd come from the Other Side to retrieve me. They'd spoken of a special place on the Other Side reserved for fallen warriors.  I simply never saw myself as much of a warrior, though I had certainly fallen in battle.” Dante stopped speaking, gazed at the floor without saying a word for a full minute. Then he shook his head and dragged himself back from wherever he had gone. “Hunter stood above me, looking pale and with eyes so heavy with burden that I just knew he was there as my death-bringer. I wanted to tell him not to worry, that my life had been good and that I was ready to die as a young soldier, not as an old healer. To this day, so many centuries later, I remember vowing to meet my death that night. But then, Hunter knelt beside me and asked, 'Dante, are you ready to die?' The truth was, I wasn't. So I whispered 'No,” though if I had known then what I would soon be privy to, my answer may have been different.” Dante gazed at Donna, pain clouding his otherwise sharp eyes. “To this day, I'm haunted by the ghost of that choice. Hunter told me to sleep and he promised I'd not face death that night. The last thing I remember was something piercing my neck.”
She gasped. “Hunter Turned you.”  Why had Hunter been willing to Turn Dante, but not me? 
“When I first came to my senses, I didn't realize anything had changed. It was a chilly night and I remember Hunter helping me to stand. My legs felt solid, as if I'd never been hurt. In fact, I didn't immediately recall that I had been hurt. Strength poured in to every part of me.” Dante chuckled lightly as he recalled the memory. “Hunter stood off to the side watching, brooding.” 
“I know that look of Hunter's.”
Dante nodded sympathetically. “He observed me, a dire expression playing across his face.”
“Like an oncoming storm?”
“That's right, love.”
She nodded. “I know that look, too.”
“Before I uttered a single word to my dearest friend, Hunter told me what he was and what I now was, too. I laughed, expecting him to join in, but he didn't. Instead, he stared at me much like you're staring at me right now, love.  He assured me of what he and I were. Vampires.” Dante cringed when he said it. “It sunk in slowly and burned deeply. I'm a healer. Healers offer life, they don't drain it from others. But here I was, forced to become the very thing I hated - a killer - and it was my best friend's fault. He had done this terrible thing to me.
“The outrage was upon me like a battle. I ran at Hunter and hit my friend. I hit him many times.  I beat him until he was broken and I felt satisfied that he hurt half as much as I did. It was very counter-intuitive behavior for a healer.” Dante looked sadly toward Donna. “But it was quite typical for a vampire. Even now, my temper sometimes disgusts me.” Dante scoffed. “Mark my words, there's nothing worse than the vampire temper, love. Except, perhaps, the demon temper.”
“Demon?”
Dante's expression was apologetic. “In this world that you're now part of, you'll soon learn that many of the monsters your mortal mind has imagined as fanciful beings are in fact quite real.” 
He eyed Donna closely and continued with his story. “I was quite angry. I beat Hunter brutally and he didn't fight back, didn't even try. He didn't move a muscle during the entire attack, except for a tiny twitch in his arm.” Dante shook his head and focused on the floor. “I told him horrible things, things I now regret saying. I told him I'd never forgive him for what he had done to me and I told him I was nothing like him. I told him that killers might make good vampires but healers are better than that. I told him I would rather have died than do the things he said I'd do on instinct in order to survive as a member of the undead.” Dante glowered. “My healer instincts were freezing up inside me and I inflicted cruelty after cruelty upon Hunter. When I was done, I made him leave me.” 
“But you're friends with Hunter now. What happened?”
Dante looked squarely at Donna, his eyes full of fire.  “Stephen happened, love. He's our war now.” Dante placed his hands over his eyes and breathed deeply. Moments later, he brought down his hands and his expression was once again peaceful. “I made myself live in fear and anger for centuries. I took souls to feed the emptiness inside. But once I freed myself from hate's slavery, I became alive again, at least in a way that makes sense to me. I no longer hunger for souls, love. I feel strong without them.”
“I'm sure you are strong,” Donna said gently. “Look how quickly you healed me.”
Dante smiled at that. “Thank you. It's more than healing that I live for now. Hunter cannot stop Stephen without help. I am part of that help. And there are others.”
“Like Trent?” 
“Indeed,” Dante nodded.  “Like Trent.” 
“Why is Hunter reluctant to Turn me?”
Dante glanced gravely at her. “He doesn't want you to feel like I did, love. I resented Hunter for many long years.”
She searched Dante's soulful eyes. “Why did Stephen Turn Hunter?” 
Dante leaned against a bedpost, which creaked under the pressure. “Hunter was home from the war, healing. Stephen, who all thought was dead, had been kept as a slave and Turned by a mighty and dark magician. Stephen showed up on the eve of Hunter and your wedding day, arriving shortly after sunset. He'd gotten word of the revelry and became jealous, especially in light of the fact that you were promised to him before he was sent to war.”
Donna gasped.  “I was supposed to marry that monster?” 
Dante nodded. “He even admitted that the only thing which kept him sane through the torment of imprisonment was the knowledge that you waited for him.”
Donna's hand went to her breast. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes, love. You broke Stephen's heart. And Hunter broke a brother's honor.  This is why Stephen has laid claim to your life so many times.”
She didn't want to ask the next question, but did it anyhow. “And Stephen's treatment of women who look like me?”
“A direct reaction to the rage he feels inside.” Dante shook his head. “A rage I cannot heal. Stephen won't allow it.”
“I'm sorry,” Donna whispered to nobody in particular. An ache filled her heart.
“It's not your fault.” Dante placed a hand on her forehead, and let it linger there for several minutes.  Indigo, rose, and pale yellow circled through her field of vision, calming her. “Would you like me to go on, or have you heard enough?”
Donna shook her head. “I need to know.” 
Dante observed her carefully and took her hand. “Wedding festivities were planned for the evening.  While the celebration was in full swing, Stephen crept to the village and hid in Hunter's room. When Hunter arrived there, Stephen attacked, because by that point, Stephen had vampire strength, a thing mortal warriors are powerless against. Stephen dragged Hunter out of the village and Turned him. During the disorientation time, between becoming Turned and knowing he was Turned, Stephen left Hunter and went to find you.”
Donna swallowed hard. “Then what happened?”
“The beginning, love.” Dante raised an eyebrow at her. 
“Beginning?”
“The beginning of Stephen hunting you and Hunter hunting Stephen.”
Her skin chilled. “It's our fault.  Mine and Hunter's.”
Dante draped an arm around her shoulders.  He smelled just like a salty sea breeze. “No, it's not. The whole valley assumed Stephen was dead. His mother and sisters had mourned him.  When Hunter returned home injured, he mourned Stephen. There was no way anybody could have known.”
“Did I mourn Stephen?”
Dante's brow furrowed. “Only you knew the answer to that.” He paused for a moment. “Love, Stephen chose his path centuries ago. No matter your feelings, then or now, he could have chosen forgiveness. Instead, he keeps himself yoked to hatred.”
He was right, of course. Still... “What about all those girls Stephen's hurting now? How can we help them?” 
“We're doing all we can,” Dante assured. “It's not easy to catch a shadow. Trent did come close a few years ago, though.”
“Was Trent in the war with you and Hunter?”
Dante shook his head. “Trent was Turned a bit over 50 years ago.” 
“That's still a long time ago.”
“Not to ones who exist forever,” Dante replied. “I found Trent roaming the streets of New York City. The female who had Turned him disappeared shortly after the Turn.  He was left alone in a strange, dark, world.”
“That's terrible,” Donna mumbled. 
“I found Trent just in time, when painful hunger was only hours away from making him take his first soul. It's a hunger unlike anything mortal, or even human. You can see it in the devoured eyes of those who have been Turned and then lost their way. I didn't want to see that happen to Trent.  So I took him under my wing, as they say.” Dante frowned at Donna. “They do still say that, don't they?”
She chuckled. “They do.”
He smiled. “I try to keep up with current lingo, but you wouldn't believe how often it changes. When you're alive for a generation, you barely notice slang. But when you're centuries old, trying to keep up is like tying knots in a waterfall.”  Dante chuckled.  “Anyway, I taught Trent how to self-heal so he'd no longer crave mortal souls.  Then I showed him the best ways to feed from mortals without harming them. There's a trick to it.” 
“So I've heard.” 
“Trent is convinced the woman who Turned him meant to remain by his side. They were lovers. He's spent much time trying to locate her.” 
“What was her name?”
“Mara.” It rolled across Dante's tongue like fine wine. 
“What a beautiful name.” 
“She was apparently a beautiful lady.” Dante shrugged.  “However, I believe she's dead because she Turned Trent at his request, much like Hunter Turned me at mine. When a Turn happens upon request, it's highly unusual for the vampire not to remain with his Turn.”
“Why do they stay?”
“Because they care.”
“So…Hunter cared about you.”
Dante's eyes deepened in color, from beach sand to soil. He became silent.  Donna closed her eyes and imagined Hunter in full warrior regalia. She smiled at how handsome he would look. A thought startled her back to here and now. 
“Dante,” she asked. “Will you talk to me about Stephen?” 
“I will.” Dante's mood shifted like sand in a windstorm and he knitted his brow before speaking. “Stephen finds fascination in torturing. Though both Hunter and Stephen were in the army, there was a significant difference between their types of service. On the battlefield, we'd all heard stories. Some of us had seen with our own eyes how Stephen was never happy to simply kill his enemy. He derived pleasure in the process of death.  He preferred to draw it out for as long as possible.” 
“He's such a monster.”
“There's a saying in the vampire kingdom,” Dante explained.  “It goes like this: 'You are what you were, only better at it.' It means that whatever you were before being Turned, the qualities of it are magnified. A decent man who is Turned becomes an exceptionally decent vampire. An evil man who is Turned becomes -”
“Stephen...” Donna mulled it around in her head. “But Dante?  Since Hunter's such a good warrior, why hasn't he killed Stephen yet?” 
Dante shook his head. “He can't. In the Underworld, blood cannot kill blood. That's one reason why the Organization is so important to him. To get Stephen, Hunter needs an army.”
Donna swallowed hard. “Is Stephen my Eternal Partner?”
Dante's brow furrowed. “Why would you think that, love?”
Donna's throat tightened. “He said I was Partnered to him before I was to Hunter.” 
Dante's gaze penetrated deeply into hers, almost as deeply as Hunter's had that first night alone in her room. Only, rather than Dante pulling up a vision for her to see, he searched for one behind her eyes. The room went utterly silent, the air perfectly still. Dante's mind intermingled with Donna's.  It tickled. She even giggled.  Then Dante grinned and they both blinked.
“Trust me, love. There's nothing of Stephen's evil that is mated to you.” He frowned. “But when I searched your soul, I did find something disquieting.”
“Disquieting?”
“You're at great risk. Stephen's repeated attacks upon your soul have taken their toll. You may not survive another attack.” 
“I know,” Donna grimaced. “Stephen's killed me in many lifetimes.”
“That's not what I mean.” Dante's tone was unnerving.  He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, if Stephen kills you in this lifetime love, you may not come back for another.”
Donna inhaled sharply. “This is my last chance?” 
“I believe it is.” Dante's expression was bleak. 
Donna's phone rang.  The number was unfamiliar. “Hello?” she said. Silence. “Hello?” More silence. Donna prepared to hang up.
“You don't want to hang up on me, lamb.” Every hair on Donna's neck stood. “Listen to me, pretty pet. Your Eternal Partner is in terrible danger.” Dante peeled the phone away and put it to his ear. Donna stumbled back.  The room spun. She didn't hear what else Stephen said and she didn't care. All she cared was that Hunter was in trouble. Donna rushed to the bedroom door.  Dante got there first and stood directly in her path with her phone clamped closed and wrapped tightly in his grip.
“Do you even know where Hunter is?” he asked gently. “My orders are to keep you here and safe, no matter what.” Dante was apologetic, but nonetheless unmovable.
“Orders? You take orders from Hunter?”
“I owe Hunter my life,” Dante said. “You're in grave danger, love. Placing you in Stephen's path is a poor idea.” He looked in Donna's eyes, which were pleading with him. “Before we get too riled up, let me try calling Hunter.  Okay, love?”  He opened the phone.
“Didn't he say his phone was dead?” Donna hated how the word dead sounded coming from her mouth right then.
Dante snapped the phone shut. His voice was razor sharp. “We'll go together. You'll be safe with me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs so fast she didn't even know how they got to the front door. Dante led her to a heavy, hulking, black motorcycle, thick with chrome and leather. 
Donna stared at it suspiciously.  It seems impossible that a professional healer who uses terms like “love” should be in control of such a beast.  
Dante nudged her toward the machine.  “There we go, now. Hop on.”
“Hop on?” Donna had heard stories about mangled corpses wrapped around telephone poles, DNA being the only ways to identify the bodies...
“You haven't been on one of these, have you?” So it was obvious. Dante reached in the saddlebag and removed two helmets, each matching the bike. He held one out to her. 
“What if we crash?”
“Don't worry love, we won't.” 
And if we do, he can probably fix me. 
“Okay.”  Donna took a deep breath and attempted to tie the chinstrap in a bow.
Dante smiled, but tried hard to hide it. “Let me help you with that.” He fastened the chinstrap on his own helmet, explaining how it was done, then helped Donna with hers. He straddled the metal monster, reached back and patted the seat behind him. Donna swallowed hard and copied what Dante had done.  Only instead of mounting the motorcycle gracefully, she lost her balance and fell to the driveway on her butt.
Donna reddened.  I’m such an idiot.
“Take my hand, love,” Dante kindly offered.  
She did.
“Grab tight around my waist.” He didn't have to tell her twice. She held so tight she thought Dante would suffocate. 
The hulking mass of metal roared to life and moved at Dante's command while Donna held on for dear life. Before squeezing her eyes shut, she saw old Mr. and Mrs. Franklin from down the road, dressed up in formal attire, step into their Cadillac. They glared. On Sunflower Street, a long-haired, sexy vampire on an over-sized motorcycle wasn’t exactly a common sight. 
Dante turned the bike left at the end of Sunflower Street and Donna held her breath.  She just knew the machine would tip over.  When it didn't, she allowed herself to breathe again, though her eyes stayed shut and her cheek stayed firmly planted against Dante's shoulder blade. Even at the horrendous speeds they reached, the soft scent of ocean breeze accompanied him, which made Donna feel a bit more at ease. After several minutes of treacherous turns and her stomach trying to escape through her mouth, the motorcycle's engine quieted and the bike slowed. Donna cautiously pried open her eyes. Dante stopped the bike across the street from Autumn Lane and his helmet was off in no time. Then he helped Donna remove hers.
“Why are we parking clear down the street?” 
“We don't want to warn anybody of our arrival.”  
Well then, we should have parked in the next county, because that damned bike sounds like a rocket launcher. 
“I don't know if Stephen's here love, but it seems like a good place to start.” Dante frowned. “I got very little from him. This is one of the downfalls of technology. I read people’s thoughts through the window of their soul. Tell me, how does one do that through the telephone?” 
Donna didn't know how one did it through the window of the soul, so she shrugged. 
“Are you ready?” he asked. 
Donna said yes, but looked down so Dante couldn't see the window of her soul screaming no. He took her hand in his and hurried down the street, around to the backyard. Donna stood behind while Dante slipped through the back doorway. He reached back out and pulled her inside the pitch-dark house. Almost immediately, she knocked against what must have been the kitchen table. Something on the tabletop crashed to the floor and her hip blazed with pain. With the next step, the goddess toe on her right foot impacted a chair leg.  The chair screeched against the floor and she bit her tongue to keep from hollering in pain. A hand closed around her wrist. 
“Follow me, love.” Dante led Donna to a different, though still dark, room. “Please, have a seat and rest.” 
“Thank you.” She knew it was just Dante's polite way of keeping her from causing more of a ruckus, but Donna didn't care. Stumbling around in the dark was not for a sun-worshiping mortal like her. Dante searched the remaining rooms in utter darkness and after what seemed like hours, his hand reached for hers.
“Come now love.”
“Where are we going?”
“The Dark Side seems reasonable.” Dante pulled her out the back doorway.

chapter seventeen


Dante parked the motorcycle in the alley by The Dark Side, right under the “No Parking” sign.  Donna followed him to the back entrance doorway, the one she’d fallen out through a few days earlier.
“Just so you know,” she told him, “that stupid door doesn't have a handle.” 
“It doesn't need one.” He made a phone call and said, “I'm at the door.”  A few seconds later, a buzzer sounded and the door popped open. 
Of course.  
Donna rolled her eyes and followed Dante in. They walked through the club, Donna sticking like glue to Dante, who strode confidentially past people on the dance floor, like a badass ballerina. Dante stopped suddenly near the bar. 
“Stay here,” he instructed, then sought out the person he'd apparently come to see; the bouncer who'd been working the night of Mo's grand plan. Bruce? Donna only remembered his girlfriend's name was Liz. She scanned the bar for her, seeking a friendly face, but instead of Liz, a pink-haired bartender wearing a red and black lace bra under a see-through shirt glowered at Donna. Her hair had just come out of a helmet.  She was wearing no make-up and an old pair of sweats. At least the glowering bartender couldn't see the bare feet and goddess toes, though the rest of the look still earned Donna a scowl of derision.  She looked toward Dante, who stood under the strobe light talking to Bruce, who nodded, gestured, shrugged his boulder-sized shoulders, and then turned back to his job. Dante hurried back to Donna.
“There's good news,” Dante shouted over the music. “Hunter was here about half an hour ago. Bruce said he mentioned something about Samee and The Commons.” Dante grabbed Donna's hand. 
Donna climbed on the bike behind Dante all by herself and barely had time to strap on the helmet before he started the motorcycle and pulled out of the alley. They weaved through busy streets and this time, Donna's eyes stayed open.  The wind whipped Dante's ponytail against Donna's cheek. He ran red lights, drove above the speed limit and arrived at The Commons in no time. He stopped the bike, hopped off, and took off running at a pace Donna couldn't match. She scrambled to follow in the dark, stumbled over a rose bush and sliced open her left cheek. Dante backtracked to pull her out. She wiped the blood from her face and could've sworn Dante's gaze lingered on it. He shook his head, took her hand and pulled her deep into a dark tree grove. 
“Dante,” she said breathlessly. “Please, slow down.” Dante stopped in his tracks so fast that Donna bumped against him. He stared at the darkness and she tried to push in front to get a glimpse of what he was sensing, but he held her back. 
“Stay behind me,” he warned. “I'm not sure which one's out there. They're brothers, after all.” Then a twig snapped ahead of them and Dante hissed, which seemed out-of-character for the generally refined way Dante presented himself earlier. 
“What are you doing here?” A voice came from the thick darkness. 
“You're okay!” Donna wanted to rush to Hunter’s arms but Dante stopped her again. 
Why is he keeping me from Hunter?
But then she saw the steely glare in Hunter's eyes reflecting in the moonlight. 
“Why did you bring her here?” he growled. “Are you trying to get her killed? Is this your way of exacting revenge upon me even after all these years?” Donna peered around Dante to see both vampires glaring at each other - two mighty kingdoms preparing for war.
“I no longer harbor resentment for your choosing as you did,” Dante sounded reasonable. “You know that.” 
“What I know is that I asked you to keep her safe in her home but instead, she's here.” Hunter's tone wasn't quite so reasonable. 
“She's here, but she's with me, so she's safe.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Hunter's eyes were black holes in the universe. “Do you think I'm incapable of protecting her?”
“First of all,” Donna began in a choking voice, “‘she’ has a name. And second, I appreciate you trying to protect me Hunter, but -”
“This is between Dante and me,” Hunter snapped. “So just...shut up please.” 
Donna gasped. “Excuse me?”
Dante spoke, the wind chime in the tempest. “Stephen called. He assured Donna you were in danger. I suspected trickery on his part, but when it comes to him, one can never be sure.” 
Donna's throat tightened. “Shut up” singed itself to her like a brand. Hunter's next remark burned the rest of her. 
“Sometimes I just wish Stephen would've just killed me instead of Turning me.” 
“Oh, I see,” Donna voice was eerily calm. “You would've preferred to trade your life, such as it is, in order to not endure the disappointment of me all these years.”
“I didn't mean it like that,” Hunter's nostrils flared and his neck muscles flexed. “I just meant...I don't know what I meant, Donna. I'm not good with words.”
“You're not good with me, either.” Donna turned away, half blinded by a sudden storm of tears. A commotion went on behind her.  She ignored it and ran. In fact, she ran all five blocks back to the house and by the time she got there, her lungs threatened to explode from a combination of exhaustion and anger, and her bare feet stung from slapping against the hard ground. 
She'd not quite unpacked everything from the move back to her parents’ house, so some belongings were still shoved in the suitcases on her closet floor. Stuff like her favorite frying pan, salad tongs and the star-spangled pot holders that didn't match Mom's kitchen décor. Donna tossed in three pairs of shoes, her favorite fleece sweater, two pairs of jeans and the pink Capris Mo hated. Donna grabbed the phone charger, laptop and her favorite DVDs from the collection on the TV stand. She tore apart the bathroom and tossed in her toothbrush, hair products and a toilet paper roll. All in all, Donna filled two suitcases and then she forced the zipper shut on each one.  She stared at both bags.  
She felt terrible leaving without knowing what had happened to Samee.  She also felt terrible leaving without telling Mo her plans, but she wasn't even sure what they were. Maybe she'd go to the Bahamas and enjoy a few final moments of sunshine until her savings ran out or Stephen got her, whichever came first.
A motorcycle pulled in the driveway and shut down. 
Damn it, what’s Dante doing here?  Probably coming to talk “sense” into me.   Well, he can just forget it.  For the first time since laying eyes on Hunter, I’m thinking clearly. 
No more vampires, Eternal Partners, psychotic big brothers, cold-hearted hit men, or nightmares.  Donna tossed the first suitcase out the bedroom doorway without looking.  It smacked him right in the crotch as he tried to enter the room. 
“Ow.  My nads didn't appreciate that.”
“I don't care what your nads think. Where's Dante?”
“Trent and my supplier are taking him to look for Samee.”
“Why do you have his bike?”
“I asked him if I could take it.” Hunter looked at the floor and spoke in a low voice. “I want you to come home with me on the back of it.”
“I have a car.  If I wanted to go with you, which I don't, I'd just take that.”
“I'm trying to make a romantic gesture, Donna.  I thought we could ride off into the sunset together.”  Hunter's face darkened just enough for her to detect a blush. She hadn't ever considered it until now; she’d just assumed vampires weren't capable of that. 
“Don't be ridiculous,” she said.  “You'd turn to dust.” She picked up the second suitcase. “Get out of my way.” He didn't move. “What part of 'Get out of my way' is lost on you? Please hurry up and find it because I want you out of my way.” Hunter sighed and cleared the doorway. Regret punched Donna in the gut, but she shut down the pain and lunged past Hunter without even looking him in the eyes. She grabbed the suitcase that had hit him in the crotch and headed toward the stairs, but she was teary-eyed and missed the first step. Her suitcases tumbled down the stairs and she followed. Hunter rushed ahead and caught her before she broke any limbs or crashed against the ceramic foyer. 
“Thanks,” Donna muttered and then wiggled away from him.  She tromped down the remaining steps to retrieve her suitcases. 
“Donna,” Hunter sounded tired. “I'm sorry. I don't know what to do to fix things.”
“Good,” she scowled. “Now you know how I feel.” 
“You're wrong, sweetheart. I don't know how you feel. I'm staying out of your head, like you asked me to.” 
Donna grunted and picked up both suitcases. “I keep thinking if I pinch myself hard enough, I'll wake up from this nightmare. Stephen's just the icing on the cake, you know. There’s a shit-splatter of other stuff that’s wrecking my life - moving back home, my parents splitting up, Samee missing, and now I’m preg -” she sucked in her breath at that last one.
“Donna,” Hunter took one cautious step closer. “Dante told me you won't reincarnate if Stephen kills you again.” He thundered down the remaining stairs and took Donna in his arms before she even knew it had happened. 
“Look at me, please.”  
She stood stiffly in his arms and refused.
“He also told me about the baby,” Hunter said softly.  “This is no longer just about you and me, sweetheart. You may not want to face me now and honestly, I don't blame you. Do you think I don't know how intolerably bitchy I can be?” Hunter's eyes bored in to her. “I want to hear it from you. Is it true?”
“Yes. You're intolerably bitchy.” 
Hunter snickered.  “I mean, is it true that we're going to be parents?” He raised Donna's chin, making her look at him. His eyes were a mirror of hers – a million emotions frantically swimming, each trying not to drown. She wanted to tell him that Dante was wrong, that she was no more pregnant than he was. 
“Yes,” she said quietly. “We're going to be parents.”
Hunter looked away, which made Donna's tummy tie in knots because she couldn't see his expression. 
Is he angry? Disgusted?  Does he blame me? 
He turned back and placed his hand on her abdomen, his fingers traveling across it. He murmured something Donna couldn't hear, but whatever it was, made something inside her belly twitch. 
She gasped. “What was that?”
Hunter smiled. “It was the baby and I saying hello to each other.” 
Donna wanted to retain the powerful feelings that were ready to propel her out the front door and away from Hunter forever, but with each touch, with each sensation, their baby pulled her back. She and Hunter locked gazes, and just like that, the anger was gone. In its place, a couple of long, lost souls who had found each other in the larger meaning. 
“Do you realize how happy this makes me?” His words brightened the room like a rainbow after a fierce storm. Hunter looped his fingers around Donna's. “I want you to accept my apology. Please, for all three of us. I say thoughtless things sometimes.”
Yes, he did say thoughtless things, but he also did amazing things, like healing her after Stephen's attack, making sure she was always safe, and giving her the ring that dazzled with color and richness. 
I can’t imagine my life without Hunter and I don’t want to. 
She hugged him. He embraced her and the scent of spice enveloped her like a warm blanket. It felt good to be in his arms - like puzzle pieces finding each other in a box. 
All we need now are the rest of the pieces to gather together. 
“What about Samee?” Donna whispered.
Hunter shook his head miserably. “It's like she's disappeared into thin air. The good news is Dante senses she's scared but otherwise unhurt. Stephen's biding his time, waiting for the moment when he'll strike - like a rattlesnake under a rock. He'll wait patiently now because he's holding something dear to me. He'll wait until he gets what he wants.” 
Donna's skin grew cold, even under Hunter's touch. “I'm what he wants.”
Hunter didn't say a word. He just took Donna's suitcase and headed upstairs. “Come on.  Let's put away your stuff.” 
“Don't you want to help look for Samee?”
“I don't want to leave you.” As selfish as it seemed, Donna was glad he said that.  She didn't want him to leave her, either. She followed Hunter upstairs, smiling a little, despite everything that was still wrong. Hunter set down the suitcases and Donna reached down to open the biggest one. 
“It’s all come back to me now,” she said.  “What happened the other night.  Stephen said some things that have been bugging me.”
“What kind of things?” Hunter's jaw tightened.
“He...said he and I were lovers. Were we? I mean, before you and I got together?” She searched his eyes but they quickly glazed over. His nostrils flared, his breathing labored. Oxygen ripped from the corners of Donna's room, gathering like a tornado, spinning and swirling around Hunter. It circled faster with each revolution, collecting energy with every turn. Those romance novels Donna hadn't touched since 10th grade flew from the shelves and her ceiling light bulb splintered. 
“Hunter!” she screamed. “Stop it.” But his eyes grew redder, his skin paled and his fangs lengthened. He became the vampire he truly was, the one she'd met that first night they were together. Only this time, he was angry.  “Why are you changing?” 
His arms and legs twitched and then they trembled. He swung wide and Donna covered her head.  There was a terrible racket.  Wood snapped, plastic cracked and glass shattered.  She looked up. Hunter had punched the wall and blasted a hole right through it with such force that it had shattered the nearby window. The DVD and bookshelf collapsed. Every horror film Mo had ever given Donna scattered across the floor. The porcelain treasure box from Grandma on Donna's fifth birthday crashed and shattered. The TV went next. Hunter threw it just as Donna backed toward the furthest corner, which was exactly the direction he'd thrown the TV. She screamed, ducked, and waited for the explosion against her head. But it didn't happen. Instead, Hunter zoomed in front of her and grabbed the TV. He intercepted it just in time. Then, just as quickly as the transformation had happened, it reversed itself. Hunter's fangs retreated.  The hatred in his eyes faded. It was a lot like the first time, but this time Donna didn't try to run. She stood there and took it all in.
Hunter's shoulders sunk.  He took a long, deep breath. 
“I'm so sorry,” he looked at Donna from under his lowered brow. “I never wanted you to see me lose control like that. It won't happen again.”
Donna crossed her arms. “Yes, it probably will happen again.  I just don't know if I want to be around when it does.” She gestured toward the hole in the wall. “How will I explain that to my parents?” Hunter looked down, backed away, set the TV on the floor and sat on the bed. He mumbled something she couldn't hear. “What did you say?”
He mumbled it a little louder. “I'm ashamed.” 
“What do you mean?” Donna's fingernails were in her mouth and she chewed them fiercely.
“Isn't it obvious?” He made a sweeping gesture around her room. “I'm ashamed of what I am.”
“It might be more productive if you'd be ashamed of what you did.” 
Hunter looked her in the eyes with his own defeated ones. “I try to be human enough for you Donna, but I never am. You always end up thinking I'm a monster.” 
“I don't think you're a monster. You just sometimes behave like one.” She moved from the corner, negotiating through broken glass and sat next to him on the bed. He turned away.
“Mortals hate vampires,” he said. “Even vampires hate vampires. We're parasites.” 
“What about Dante? He's not a parasite.”
Hunter snorted. “Dante may be a healer by nature, but he's a vampire by design.”  Then he added, “By my design.” 
“Either way,” Donna spoke clearly despite feeling like her heart was going to explode, “I'm not subjecting myself or my child to your tearing things up every time you get angry at Stephen. Stephen is something that needs to be faced and stopped, not railed against on innocent furniture. Whatever Stephen is, he doesn't deserve this kind of outburst from you.”
Hunter bolted up. “You don't realize what you're saying.” 
“One look around this room explains it pretty well,” she gestured.
Hunter's eyes narrowed. “Do you really want to know what Stephen is capable of? Even when he was mortal, Stephen was cruel. As a child, he mutilated our livestock until Father stopped him. He used to stab dogs and smile at their pain. He would capture birds, break their wings. He-”
“What did he do to me, Hunter?” She couldn't stand hearing any more about Stephen's cruelty toward innocent animals. 
“The same thing he always does. He kills you.” Hunter avoided Donna's glare.
“There's more you're not telling me, Hunter. And unless you do, I'm going to insist you leave and never come back until you've learned something about anger management.” 
Hunter glowered. “Stephen kills you with maddeningly slow precision and intense amounts of torture. He drains your blood and it takes hours for you to pass away. During those hours, he...” Hunter's hands shook, “does things to you.”
“Like what?” 
“He beats you. He tortures you, repeatedly. He breaks you down mentally, physically and emotionally. By the time I get to you, you're too gone to bring back. You're bruised, broken, your body defiled and I hold you while you breathe your last.” Hunter's hands shook, sweat beaded on his forehead. “That's Stephen's calling card to me. He destroys you and I get to know how much you suffered. He tells you that if only I wouldn't keep coming to find you, you wouldn't need to suffer.”
“Yeah,” Donna's voice quivered. “He did tell me that.”
Hunter shook his head and looked at the floor. “I've tried to avoid getting close to you. I've tried protecting you from a distance, but Stephen goads me. He threatens to hurt you anyhow.”
“Is that why you tried to avoid me when we met at The Dark Side?”
Hunter nodded slowly. “Samee had warned me that you were planning to go there.” His voice was sad when he spoke her name. “She knew The Dark Side was where Stephen had been biding his time and alarm bells went off when she heard you mention it. So we staged an intervention. I wanted to do it without me getting too close. I had hoped to get Dante and Trent to step in instead of me, but you were drawn toward the back which is where I was hiding. And as it turned out, so was Stephen.”
“You tried to avoid me.”
“For your own good, sweetheart.  This is a centuries-old battle between Stephen and me and you're caught in the middle. Whoever gets to you first should win, but even though I always get there first, he always wins.” 
“He won't win this time,” Donna said. 
I need to believe it for the baby's sake. 
She kissed Hunter. “My stomach's queasy. I'm going to grab a soda. Do you want anything?” Hunter shook his head.  She hurried downstairs and grabbed a coke.  Silently, she thanked Samee for the full fridge and begged for her to be okay. 
Now, how to deal with the mess in my room…
Donna walked back upstairs and her jaw dropped in surprise when she entered the bedroom. The broken glass was scooped up, the shelves restacked, the clutter off the floor and the curtain was drawn shut to hide the shattered window. 
“Trent will stop by later to fix the other damages,” Hunter explained a bit wistfully. “He's the builder, not me. I'm sorry.” He paused.  “Somebody’s here.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
Hunter parted the curtains and poked his nose through the broken pane. Then Donna heard what had captured his attention. A car door slammed shut.  Then, giggling. 
“Who owns a Jaguar?” Hunter asked.
“Shit.  My mother's home, and about three days early.” Donna turned off the light and peeked through the window. Mom's young boyfriend lifted suitcases from the trunk while Mom clicked in high heels back and forth from the trunk to the front door, carrying one bag at a time. Then Mom and Brad stood directly in the car's headlight glow, tangling together in a long kiss. 
“That's disgusting,” Donna sneered.  “She and Dad aren't even divorced.” Yet. 
A few minutes later, the front door opened and bags were shuffled in amongst the sounds of hushed voices, light giggles and one rather unforgettable moan. The front door shut.  Brad slithered to his fancy car and backed out from the driveway and Mom hustled up the stairs. Donna expected her to trot right past, but she knocked on Donna's door. Donna eyed the hole in the wall and looked nervously at Hunter, who swallowed hard. She slipped from the room and let the door shut behind her. Mom stood in the hallway, smelling like coconut lotion and expensive cigars. Her intense smile pierced the dimly lit hall.
“My goodness, Donna.  You certainly answered the door quickly. Were you sleeping with your cheek pressed against it?” 
“Why are you home so early?”
“Well,” she chuckled and it sounded like a hen cackling. “That's a fine hello.” She squinted, which accentuated her crow's feet, then held open her arms for a hug.  A bracelet that sparkled with rubies clanked on Mom’s tanned arms.  “I came home early to surprise you for your birthday.” She grinned. “Surprise!”
“Thanks,” Donna picked at her thumbnail.
She snorted. “You don't seem happy to see me.” 
“I don't feel well.” 
Mom examined Donna closely – like a medical examiner observing a carcass before disemboweling it.  “You do look a bit exhausted,” she admitted.
Exhausted doesn’t even begin to describe it. 
Donna tried to smile.   “On the other hand, you look great.” In fact at that moment, Caroline McCormick was exactly like a perfect red rose in its fullest moments, just before the petals start to drop. 
She grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you for the compliment, dearest child. Now tell me, why is there a motorcycle in the driveway?” 
“Um,” Donna had forgotten all about that. “It...belongs to Mo.”
Mom stared, without blinking, like Ms. Schmill. “That huge hunk of metal belongs to tiny little Mo?” 
“Uh-huh.”  Donna nodded feverishly. 
“Why is it here? Is Mo spending the night while you're not feeling well?”
Donna thought quickly. “She let me borrow it. I'm learning to ride.” 
Mom surveyed her from head to feet, a butcher considering a slab of meat to be filleted. “Yes, well. Thank you for explaining. It all makes sense now. Good night.” Mom turned and sauntered down the hall. Her suitcases were still by the front door. 
“Mom, do you want your bags?” 
She slammed her bedroom door shut in response. Donna crept back to her room and shut the door behind her. “She knows I'm lying.” 
Hunter pulled her away from the door. “We just have to remain calm until Trent fixes the wall.”
“I hope he can do it quietly.” Donna rubbed her temples and wandered around the bedroom, chewing on her nails.  A minute later, the door crashed open and Mom stood there with her arms folded, glaring at Hunter. 
“You must be the real owner of that death trap in my driveway.” 
“Actually, ma'am, I'm not.”
She glared at him.
Donna stood between her mother and her Eternal Partner. “Mom, you really should knock first.” 
Mom snorted. “This is my house and you're not paying rent in it.”
Donna crossed her arms. “You said I could live here.”
“I didn't say you could use my home as a brothel.” She coldly eyed Hunter.
“Mom, this is Hunter -”
“I don't care if he's Zeus.  He has no permission to be here.”
“- And he's the father of your grandchild-to-be.”
Mom opened her mouth, probably to accuse Donna of reproductive irresponsibility, but that's when she noticed the hole in the wall. “What in the hell is that?”
“He'll fix it,” Donna said.  That didn't convince Caroline McCormick, whose faced reddened and eyes glazed.
“I'll have you arrested for destruction of property,” she glared at Hunter.  “In the meantime, get out of my house.” 
Hunter started to leave.  
“Don’t go without me,” Donna implored him.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”  He took Donna's hand and pulled her toward the doorway. 
“My stuff,” Donna said. “I need my suitcases.”
“We'll buy you new stuff,” Hunter said.
“My phone...” 
Hunter reached back to her bed and picked it up. Mom shouted after them. “So help me, Donna Anne, if you leave this house now, you'll never be invited back in.” Donna turned to face her mother, who glowered.  Caroline's glower was nothing compared with Stephen's, though. So Donna shrugged and glared back at her mother. 
“I don't want to come back.” 
Mom’s jaw clenched.  “You’ll regret saying that, Donna.”
“No, Mom.  What I regret is letting you hold Sam’s death over my head for the past nine years.  You were in charge of him that day, but you got an important phone call and told me to watch him while you turned away to chat with your important client.  It’s not my fault he died.”
Tears welled in Mom’s eyes.  “I never said it was -”
“It’s not your fault either, Mom.  Sometimes bad stuff happens to good people.  That’s all.  I love you and I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be your scapegoat anymore.”  Donna hurried downstairs and was out the front door and on the back of Dante's motorcycle even before Hunter could get on and start the engine. He grinned.
“I love you so much,” he said.
“I love you, too.” 
Hunter handed Donna a helmet which, thanks to Dante, she could put on all by herself.  Hunter straddled the bike, a Greek god on his crotch rocket. The engine roared to life.
“Hold on tight,” he said.
“I intend to.”

chapter eighteen


The motorcycle's tires crunched across the gravel driveway at Hunter's house. He grabbed a remote from his pocket, pushed the button and the garage door opened to reveal three cars. One caught Donna's attention immediately. A classic white, convertible Volkswagen Bug with little red ladybugs, big yellow flowers and a license plate frame which read, “Not All Bugs Bite - Some Throttle.”
“That’s adorable,” Donna giggled.  “But I can't see you driving it.” 
“I can't either.” He pointed to the black mass of metal next to it, a brand new Ferrari. “I drive that, when I drive at all.”
Donna took off her helmet. “Wow. That must be a pretty good sized monthly payment.”
“I don't pay by the month. I used cash.”
Donna sucked in her breath. “You paid cash for that?” 
“I pay cash for everything.” Hunter folded his long, lean leg over the bike and held out a hand to help Donna.  She took it. “I've been around a while, sweetheart. In that time, I've made a little money.” 
“No kidding,” she murmured. 
“Come on, let's go inside.” 
She eyeballed the Bug again. “Is that...?” 
“Samee's car,” he said with a tone of sadness. “She can hardly wait to get her license.” He pointed to the last car in the garage, a black Suburban. “That's for whoever wants it, usually Trent.  He does a lot of nighttime shopping, mostly for remodeling stuff.” 
“Did Trent fix the exterior of this house?”
“Yeah.”
“He did good,” Donna said.
Hunter shrugged.  “I’ll give the kid credit for knowing how to take a 2 x 4 and make a masterpiece.”
I hope “the kid” can make a masterpiece on Sunflower Street where now there is a hole in the wall.
Hunter indicated toward a door that led to the kitchen.  He flipped on the light, which made the room look much different from the last time Donna had been in there. She immediately noted the table and chairs, which sat right in the center for any klutz with big toes to trip over. The sink, cupboards and hardwood floor were original and recently refinished. The room's windows were the old-fashioned kind with small, individual panes and would have made the kitchen warm and inviting on sunny days, if everything wasn't shuttered tight from outside. As it was, the only daylight that could ever filter in was through a tiny window on the back door.  Somebody had pinned a dish towel over it.
“This is the fridge,” Hunter pointed, “and here's the stove.”
“Yes,” Donna giggled. “Appliances are somewhat obvious that way.”
“Well, yeah. I guess you're right.” Hunter looked at the floor and absently kicked his foot at a chair leg.  He moved to the dining room, in which stood a chunky, walnut dining set.  On top of it were mountainous stacks of paperwork, pencils, rubber bands, manila envelopes, an over-stuffed electric pencil sharpener, and a half dozen computers.  It reminded Donna of what things might look like if a tornado ripped through an office supply store.
No wonder Samee was embarrassed to show it off.
 “This is my temporary office,” Hunter explained. “I run the northern hemisphere command center for the Organization.” 
“A CIA for vampires,” Donna noted. She glanced at the windows in there, also shuttered. “Do you ever open these windows?”
“Closed windows save energy,” he said. 
“I've never before known a guy who can buy a fancy car with cash but who's afraid to let heat escape through windows.”
Hunter chuckled. “Closed windows save my energy, sweetheart. The more I remain in darkness, the less often I have to feed.” 
“Oh.” Donna decided she might develop an appreciation for closed shutters if it meant her Eternal Partner didn't have to go out at night biting necks. 
Hunter drummed his fingers on a nearby computer. “I hate these things. They never do what they're supposed to - like this one. It’s supposed to give us a database to find any undead creature within a certain field.  For instance, 'find all female minions within 50 miles,' but it doesn't.”
Donna smiled. She might never become a successful lawyer, but she did know a thing or two about computers.  “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Please.”  Hunter motioned for her to go right ahead. She examined the system for a moment, reset a few configurations and then turned to him. 
“Try it now.”
Hunter sat at the desk, input his information and examined the results. Then he looked up at her and grinned lopsidedly. “Would you like a job as our computer tech?”
“When do I start?” she winked.
“You just did.”
Hunter led Donna to the living room. Samee had certainly not exaggerated when she said the place resembled a mission command center. The only other time Donna had been in that room it was pitch-dark, which might explain how she'd missed all the weapons and weapon-containing devices. Swords gleamed from hangers on the wall, daggers were decoratively displayed like flowers in vases, and a steel crossbow adorned a table. Some pieces looked ancient, others appeared almost futuristic. A few even resembled something out of a military nightmare. Along the north wall was a full gun rack and a row of medieval weaponry.  In the corner, a single, silver cross.
“Hmmmm,” Donna pointed to the cross and turned to Hunter. “Where did you get all this stuff?”
“I have a source.” She was about to ask what kind of source could provide such a vast array of killing devices, but Hunter's phone rang.  He flipped it open.  “What is it?” His brow lowered as he listened. “I'll be there. Give me five minutes.” Hunter shut the phone then looked apologetically at Donna. “I have to go.”
Donna perked up. “Is it Samee?” 
“It's my source.” 
“The one with the weapons?”
Hunter shook his head apologetically. “The less you know about some things, the better.” 
“I don't like being overprotected,” Donna grumbled. 
“You never do, but it's safer for everybody.” Hunter kissed her forehead. “I gotta go.” 
“You're leaving me alone here? I don't even know where the bathroom is.”
“It's upstairs. And I'm not leaving you alone.  Trent will be here in a few seconds.” Exactly three seconds later, the kitchen door crashed open and there stood the dark haired guy who'd accompanied Dante earlier that night. “I'll be back before daylight,” Hunter promised. He folded his arms around Donna, kissed her hard then dashed right past Trent without introducing them or even acknowledging him. So there she was, face-to-face and all alone with another vampire she'd never met. This one was tall, dark-skinned with striking blue eyes.  He didn’t look like a kid to Donna, but he did appear younger than Hunter. 
“I'm Donna,” she extended a hand.
“I know,” he said. She glanced at her hand, still extended for him to shake. “Oh, sorry.” He laughed and then took her hand. “I'm Trent. And sometimes rude.”
Donna giggled. “Hi, Trent.” He lurked in the doorway, observing her closely. 
“So you're the one whose front door I fixed.”
She nodded. “Well, it's my parents' front door, and thanks for fixing it. Unfortunately, there's more to fix now.”
Trent rolled his eyes.  Like Mo.  “There always is when it comes to Hunter.”
Exactly how often does Hunter have outbursts?  
“My best friend Mo said you're a damned miracle worker.”
“Smart girl.” Trent tilted his head. “You really don't remember any of us? From before, I mean.” 
Donna shook her head. “Before?”
“The life just before this one.”
“Oh, that. No. Do you remember me?” 
Trent nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“Do I look the same?”
“Last time, your hair was the color of chocolate and your skin was dark, like mine. You were Spanish. From Spain.”
“I lived in Spain?” Donna considered it. “Did I speak Spanish?” 
“Of course,” Trent smiled. 
“How did you guys understand me?”
Trent laughed. “Vampires absorb new languages quickly.  Hunter speaks almost every language on earth. You didn't know that?” 
Donna looked down. “There's a lot I don't know about Hunter.”
“That's not true. You know just about everything when it comes to Hunter. You just don't remember you know it. It's a little like amnesia, probably.” Trent focused his attention on the floor, then  pulled a hammer from a drawer and twisted it through his fingers a half dozen times before dropping to his knees and bashing the hammer's head against an unruly nail poking out from the kitchen floor. “Sorry,” he said when the noise made Donna jump. “I just refinished this floor and really can't stand to have it be less than perfect.” 
“You sound like me,” Donna laughed.  Trent laughed too and the sound of them laughing together was like water tumbling over rocks. 
“Did you know me in other lives besides that one in Spain?”
“No,” Trent returned the hammer to its drawer which squealed when he closed it. “I've only been Turned for half a century. In vampire terms, I'm still a baby. The irony is, I was Turned at twenty years old, so I'm a baby, a middle aged man, and still not old enough to buy alcohol, all in one. It's a bit of a nuisance,” he chuckled. 
“Actually, that's bugging me.”
Trent cocked an eyebrow. “That I'm not old enough to buy alcohol?”
“No,” Donna giggled. “I'm worried about what happens when Hunter stays twenty-five and I go way beyond that.”
Trent looked at the ground. “According to Dante, that hasn't happened yet.”
“Because of Stephen?”
Trent nodded then they were silent for several awkward moments. 
“Well, anyway,” he finally grinned wide, showing off a pair of pearly fangs. “Did Hunter show you around?”
“He showed me the kitchen and dining room, but we got sidetracked at the living room.”
“Yeah, that's Hunter - always sidetracked. Let me give you the rest of the tour.” He directed her to the right and to a short hall which led to a couple bedrooms. “This one's Dante's room.” He opened the door.
“It smells like a library in here,” she breathed in deep. The walls, painted rich blue and lined with shelves of a thousand books, explained why.
“Every single one is a book on some type of healing,” Trent rolled his eyes. “Each and every one. And these aren't even all of them. He has something like five hundred eBooks, too.” 
“Dante's amazing.” Donna sat on a wicker chair in the corner.  It creaked under her weight. 
“When Samee was six, she broke her leg. Dante repaired it in thirty seconds.”
“He fixed what was broken in me, too.”
Trent nodded. “He's especially adept at healing mortals.  Sometimes he sneaks inside hospitals in the middle of the night and heals very sick kids.  Their families call it a miracle. ”
“Dante certainly does seem miraculous.”  Donna took a deep breath.  “I like it in here.  It's peaceful.” The shutters were closed, naturally. But instead of it making the room feel shut out from the world, it gave the place a safe, secret feel - like a kid hiding under the bed covers and pretending the whole rest of the world didn't even exist.
“That feeling you call peaceful,” Trent said, “is the energy of a healer vampire. Odd as it seems to the mortal world, some vampires are actually good for humanity.” Donna had personally experienced Dante doing good for her humanity, so she nodded. Trent continued. “I was raised to fear vampires. When I became one, I was filled with self-loathing.”
“But you're not full of self-loathing anymore, right?”
Trent shrugged. “Nobody likes being a vampire, Donna. If we're lucky, we just...adjust to it.” 
Like adjusting to being Eternal Partners with one.
“Want to see my room?” he asked. Donna nodded, and then followed Trent to his room, which was larger than Dante's and had two entrances. One was through the kitchen, the other led to the backyard. The room had six huge windows and of course, they were shuttered.
“Oooo,” Donna pushed open the porch door and leaned out to embrace the night air. “I like this room!” 
“I do too, especially, in the evenings.” 
She closed the door. “I hope I remember to keep the doors shut during the day.”
He shrugged.  “Maybe you will, but Samee still hasn't.” 
Samee…
“Come on. I'll show you my big project.” Trent led Donna to the basement. The stairs felt unstable. The air was clammy and echoed with dripping water. Trent pulled a string at the stairway base and a single bulb lit up the space, though not very well. Donna's eyes adjusted slowly and Trent waited patiently while they did. Then she looked around at the dirt floor and stone foundation. The water drip came from the south wall. A mouse scurried right in front of them, Donna screamed and jumped back. She glanced at Trent and blushed. 
“Sorry. I'm just not much for scary things jumping out at me.”
Trent chuckled. “Then you'll definitely want to avoid Underworld demons.” He waved his arms in a wide flourish. “This is my big project. It's going to be the main headquarters for the Organization. Hunter's office will be right here.” He pointed to a dismal corner, perfect for the brooding vampire type.
“He'll love it,” Donna giggled.
Trent chuckled.  “And you say you don't know much about him.” 
“You guys go to a lot of trouble for the Organization,” Donna said. “Can you tell me more about it?”
Trent laughed. “I don't always know that I understand it myself, but I'll explain it the best I can. The Organization exists to maintain law and order in the undead realms. It's a bit like a police department.”
“Except ours.”
Trent agreed. “Your mayor is at the helm of the minion takeover in the local department. He's amassed much power and influence there.”
“How has he done that?”
“It's a vampire thing,” Trent explained. “The longer a vampire manages to survive, the more strength he or she gathers.” 
“Mo was right. She distrusted the mayor from the start.”
Trent nodded. “Michael controls many lives, including Stephen's.”
“Michael…it sounds so weird.  I’m used to calling him Mayor St. James.”  Donna sat on a rickety basement stair that protested under her weight. 
“It sounds weird for me to hear him called Mayor St. James.”
“Well, either way it's hard to believe anybody has control of Stephen.”
“Michael does,” Trent assured her. “Many years ago, he owned a slave his army had captured in battle. And he knew that slave possessed an all-consuming obsession for a girl back home.”
“Obsession?” Donna shuddered.
“Or twisted affection.  Call it what you want. Stephen calls it love. Dark feelings are the only ones he knows.” Trent sat on the stair next to Donna. It protested under his weight, too. “Michael hated Hunter even back then because Michael has long-standing aims to become a world leader. The only thing that stops him is Hunter.” Trent picked up a pebble and threw it at another mouse, which then scampered to the darkness. “Hunter represents the peoples' fight, the uprising of the masses. Michael represents ultimate control of the people. It's a bit like political warfare.”
“No wonder Mo is so good at getting the clues,” Donna wrapped her arms around herself to hold back the chill. “It's about politics.”
“Everything's about politics,” Trent replied. “And in politics, there are those who get their hands dirty, and there are those who direct those hands.”
“And Michael is a director, right?” 
Trent nodded. “Michael, being a dictatorial leader, couldn't be seen getting his hands dirty.  But he wanted Hunter dead. When his army failed to do the job on the battlefield, Michael Turned Stephen and released him to kill Hunter. But Michael didn't yet recognize the cardinal Underworld rule-”
“Blood can't kill blood,” Donna whispered, then picked on her index nail.
“Yep. So Stephen did the only thing he could.  He Turned Hunter out of spite.  Then he killed you out of malice.”
Donna watched another mouse poke its head from behind a stone. “Why didn't Stephen just Turn me, too?”
“To make Hunter watch you die lifetime after lifetime provides much more torment to him than Turning you would have. If you'd have been Turned, Hunter and you could have married and loved each other in the undead realms eternally.”
Donna tasted blood and looked down to see she'd chewed the flesh around the tip of her index finger. She balled up her fists. “But if somebody else were to Turn me...” she looked hopefully toward Trent.
“No way,” his eyes widened and he wildly shook his head no. “Hunter would stake me.”
Why is everybody allowed to be Turned but me?
“You don’t want to be Turned, Donna.”  
She shook her head.  Did he just read my mind?
Trent continued without responding to that last question.  “So anyway, things got sticky for Michael.  Instead of a dead warrior, he got saddled with an undead arch-enemy with ten times its original power. It's pretty ironic.  Michael's lack of foresight has actually kept him from achieving his sick dream.”
“So that's how it began? And it's been replaying itself for all this time?”
“Yep, for all this time.” Trent looked in Donna's eyes. “There was one who tried to warn you at the beginning.”
“Mo?” 
Trent grinned. “Apparently, that girl has been by your side in every incarnation.” 
“That's what she said,” Donna chuckled. The mouse came back, and this time Donna threw the pebble at it. “How long ago did Hunter start the Organization?”
“Hunter didn't start it,” Trent pointed to the pebble. “Good shot.  A couple of shepherds located on opposite ends of the earth started the Organization.  Their names are Raoul and Froederick.  Though to be honest, they didn't so much start the Organization as they fell into the job when they were Turned by the gods.”
“Turned by the gods?” Donna scrunched her nose. “How is that possible?” 
“With the gods, all things are possible.” Trent shifted on the stair and it groaned. “The shepherds went to bed one night as normal mortals and awoke the next morning as vampires.”
“That must’ve been a shocker.”
Trent nodded in agreement.  “It was.  In their new undead state, Raoul and Froederick were faced with more than just being all alone and Turned. They were also each faced with a weighty book given to each of them by the gods.  Each book came with instructions to learn the contents and share its knowledge and to never, ever, let it out of their sight. Never.” Trent repeated emphatically. “As you might imagine, that was a daunting expectation.  So Raoul and Froederick took their books and clutched them tightly to their chest.  Each only let loose long enough to read a few pages every morning before lying down to sleep. That fact, on its own, would have made it take the two eons to read.  But as it turns out, the gods had mistakenly given Raoul the book written in a script only Froederick could read, while Froederick had received the book scribed in Raoul's language.”
Donna giggled. “The gods made a mistake?”
“They make mistakes all the time. Why do you think there's so much Chaos in the world?” 
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” she admitted.
Trent nodded.  “Raoul and Froederick traveled for many years, each growing increasingly weary and irascible under the burden of his book. Raoul traveled north from the South Pole.  Froederick traveled south from the North Pole. They crossed paths at the equator, each vampire quite suspicious of the other and each clutching tightly to his book. They quickly picked up on each other’s native tongue and started to communicate.  But it didn’t dawn on them share the books with each other, since neither let go long enough to show the other.  So one night, a small but significant thing happened.” Trent raised an eyebrow and Donna's knuckles gripped the stair she sat on. “The gods of the Underworld shifted the earth under their feet.”
“Shifted? Like an earthquake?”
“Exactly like that.”  Trent stomped his foot to scare away a different mouse, or maybe it was the same one that kept coming back. “The earthquake caused both vampires to lose their footing, and the next thing they knew, each had dropped their book to clutch to something more stable. When the quaking stopped, the vampires reached for their books, unknowingly taking the other one’s copy.  Suddenly, Raoul and Froederick could discern the words within the books and they realized each book complimented the other.  In a state of joy, they embraced and became brothers of blood oath by sacrificing a pair of oxen and sharing the animals' blood in celebration. They drank blood by the bucketful all night long, which sealed their fate as Eternally Connected.”
“Like Hunter and me?”
“Sort of,” Trent winked, “minus the romance.” Donna blushed. “As daylight broke, our heroes curled up together in a cave and slept in gluttonous bliss until the next nightfall. While they slept, the remaining blood of those two oxen leaked from the beasts' carcasses onto the books, making both books merge and become a single volume as per the blood oath ritual's Eternal Connection Law. And once the two books merged, it was no longer just a book. It became, and still is to this day, a living, breathing, Enlightened Prophecy.”
“Like a religion for vampires?”
Trent nodded. “At the very moment the two books became a single Prophecy, Raoul and Froederick awoke from their slumber and immediately began to argue over who was best suited to carry the book.  In fact, the arguing kept them so busy that they failed at their job - as keepers of the Prophetic Records they were expected to understand the Prophecy, then go to the Underworld and spread the message of Prophetic fulfillment.  Now they were so consumed with who should carry the book that they couldn't stop bickering long enough to get on with it. So while Raoul and Froederick slept in their cave one day, the gods sneaked away the book, made an exact replica and placed both books back in the cave.”
Donna leaned forward.  “I bet that fixed the problem.”
“No, it made things even worse.  Raoul and Froederick fought over which copy was the original.”
“But the books were exactly the same.”
Trent shrugged. “There was no convincing Raoul and Froederick.  Each of them thought he was more worthy than the other to carry the original edition.  They also argued over which book was the True Original. And after that, the gods realized neither vampire was up for the job of Prophetic Revelation. So one night while Raoul and Froederick were busy squabbling, two of the gods were sent to take both copies and teach the shepherds a lesson.”
Donna giggled. “That showed them.”
Trent shook his head. “Not exactly, because the gods who were sent to take back the books were Archer and Alicia -”
“Who?”
“The Underworld god and goddess of male and female beauty.” He said it as if it should have been obvious. “Archer tiptoed in and picked up one copy, Alicia took the other. Archer got away undetected.  Alicia was caught with a book in her hand when she stopped to primp at her reflection in a pond. Raoul and Froederick found her there and pleaded with her to give them another chance.”
“And they got it?”
“Indeed, because although those vampires were oblivious to the charms of each other, they easily got one over on the goddess, whose beauty is matched only by her weakness for flattery by men - even those men.”
Donna grinned. “They flirted the book right out of her hands.”
“It was clever, but not clever enough because now the Underworld gods decided to teach the boys a harsh lesson about pulling a fast one on deities. They plucked out the last word of every sentence in the book and now, Raoul and Froederick have spent the past couple thousand years quarreling over every last word.” Trent rolled his eyes. “So all this time's gone by and the Prophecy hasn't been fulfilled, much to the chagrin of vampires, who would love nothing more than for Order to rein in the Underworld.”  Trent shrugged.  “Demons like it this way, though.  And as punishment, Alicia is banished to earth with lowly humans, but she's forbidden from meddling in mortal affairs of any kind.”
“That sounds harsh,” Donna felt sorry for the goddess of beauty.	
Trent admitted it was. “Her brother Archer is locked in a dungeon until the lost copy is restored.”
“Lost copy?”
“Archer set his copy aside one day while hunting and somebody - or something - took it. Legend says a purple-eyed, red-feathered phoenix is to blame.  We’ll never know for sure, of course.  Just to be on the safe side, undead wisdom is to never trust a purple-eyed, red-feathered phoenix when you encounter one. I suggest you don't, either.”
“I've never even seen a purple-eyed, red-haired phoenix,” Donna said.
“Red-feathered,” he corrected. “And, now that you're living with one foot in the shadows, you just very well might.  So thanks to the purple-eyed, red-feathered phoenix, the Prophecy remains unfulfilled.  It will continue to be unfulfilled until either the lost copy is found or Raoul and Froederick finally agree on the final word of every sentence in the remaining copy.” Trent snickered, “I doubt either scenario will ever happen, but Hunter insists it's been decreed by the gods that the Prophecy be fulfilled.”
“So…Hunter believes in the Prophecy.” It hadn't entered Donna's mind that her Eternal Partner might have a religion. She pondered that for a moment then folded in deeper against the chill Trent seemed oblivious to. 
“Hunter believes in the Prophecy now, but that wasn't always the case. At first, Raoul found him in Rome and approached him to ask if Hunter would have any interest in helping the vampires fulfill the Prophecy.” 
“And Hunter agreed?”
Trent laughed hard enough to scare away the mouse. “Of course not, he's Hunter. He called the Prophecy 'delusions of idiocy,' and demanded Raoul and Froederick leave him alone. It wasn't until centuries later that Hunter came around.  Even then, it took Dante's help.” 
“How did Dante talk Hunter into joining the Organization?”
“After partnering with Raoul and Froederick, Dante sought out Hunter, who he hadn't spoken to in several mortal lifetimes.  First he made amends with Hunter, and then he convinced him they were all after the same goal.” 
“Stephen,” Donna whispered.
“Actually, Stephen and Michael.   They know that without the Book of Prophecy, there's no fulfillment of it. So they seek to destroy both copies.”
“Does the Prophecy tell of Michael's failure?”
“Hunter's continued interference does a good job of that,” Trent said with a chuckle. “What the Prophecy does is guarantee Michael's Ultimate Destruction.” A bigger, uglier mouse scurried across the floor, sat up on its back legs and peered right at Donna and Trent with its beady, pink eyes.  Then it twitched its nose. Trent hissed and the mouse ran back to the darkness. “I've told you too much,” he said with a tone of regret.
“But I want to know more. Hunter doesn't tell me much.”
“Then neither should I.”  He reached for her hand. “Let's finish the tour, new roommate.” 
And that was the end of that.

chapter nineteen


They went back upstairs to the kitchen, which felt pleasant to Donna after that chilly basement. She followed Trent to a different set of stairs near the living room, and this stairwell was dark and smelled like moth balls.  At the top landing, which smelled even more like moth balls, Trent pointed left. Donna knew whose room it was without Trent even having to say, because of the bright daisy painted on the door next to the words “Samee’s room”. 
“Go ahead,” Trent stood back and motioned for Donna to enter the room. “If you can stand it.”
“Stand it?”
“It's hideous in there,” Trent replied. 
Donna opened the door carefully and flipped on the light.  Bright, yellow walls and window shutters opened wide that would drench the room with sunlight if it were daylight.  The room also featured filmy, gauze curtains and bright white high-gloss paint covering the bed frame, the dresser drawers and the ceiling. Donna imagined that during the middle of the day, Samee's room would be bright enough to light a whole city. In addition, the room had a hardwood floor that was also painted high-gloss white and bordered in daisy print applique. Samee's bedspread was yellow flowers against a green field.  A lavender mosquito net draped across the bedposts. The room smelled like flowers and felt like summer. Donna poked her head out from the doorway. 
“This room is cute!” 
“It's grotesque,” Trent shaded his eyes. 
“Was it painful for you to paint?”
He shuddered. “I didn't paint that disturbing scene. Her palette, her problem.” 
Donna exited the room and quietly shut the door. She looked past the stairway to the opposite end of the hall where two doors faced each other and a third set off by itself against the north wall. 
“Where do those go?” she asked.
“This door goes to the bathroom.” Trent pointed to the one farthest from the stairs. “I'll warn you right now, it's the only bathroom in the house, and just a few days ago, Samee locked herself in it for two hours to style her hair.” 
“Great,” Donna groaned. 
“The one across from it’s a linen closet.  And this,” Trent held the final door handle and pressed, “is your bedroom.  Well, you and Hunter.”
Me and Hunter.
It sounded foreign, and when she stepped in the room, it even felt that way. Chunky cherry wood furniture stood like guards at a castle's entrance.  Wall tapestries peppered the place with color, and in the room's center, like a throne, sat an antique mahogany bed. White linen offset the dark furniture to make a powerful statement of opposites. 
Like Hunter and me.
A stately, built-in fireplace with dragon's head ornamentation hunkered against one wall. Scarlet and black pillows adorned every furnished surface.  Thick, gray draperies covered the windows, keeping the room cloistered in darkness. An ancient rocking chair was set in front of a window. There was something about that rocker...
Donna turned to Trent. “Why is the rocking chair here?” 
“According to Dante, this chair is always next to a window overlooking a grassy lawn. It's where you take your naps and do your sketches.”
“Sketches...” Donna mused. “Do I sketch in all my lives?”
“Apparently so,” Trent answered. 
“Huh,” Donna contemplated it. “But how can I look out over a grassy lawn when all the windows are shuttered?”
Trent indicated toward the window nearest the rocking chair. “Open the drapes on this one.” She parted the curtains and looked out. Sure enough, through the thickness of night, stars twinkled. “Hunter makes sure you always have a sunny view.” Donna's fingers followed the rocking chair's curves.  When she sat in it, it didn't protest against her weight, even though it had to be at least two hundred years old. She shifted in the seat until she felt comfortable then she smiled at Trent. 
“This feels right,” she said.
“It's been a pleasure meeting you again, Donna. Have a good night. I'm going to run over and fix that little problem at your parents’ house now.”
“Thanks, Trent.”  Donna's voice was soft. “It was nice meeting you, too.” The bedroom door creaked when Trent closed it. The latch clicked.   Donna relaxed and almost dozed off...until her phone rang and jolted her back. She looked at the screen.  
Dad. 
“Hi Dad,” she said cautiously. 
“Your mother is very upset,” he answered. 
“Mom has a talent for exaggeration. You know that, Dad.”
“She claims your boyfriend dragged you forcibly from the house. I do know your mother is prone to overstepping the facts, but that is a serious accusation. Do I need to inform the police?”  Donna wanted to laugh at the notion that the police would do anything about another blonde girl in trouble. 
“Relax, Dad. Hunter didn't drag me from the house.”
He took a deep breath, maybe of relief. “Your mother also mentioned you’re pregnant.  A baby, Donna? You're in college.”
“They have daycare on campus.”
“And then what?” he asked. “Will this Hunter guy still be around by the time this baby is born?”
“Dad -”
“I just want you to do something challenging with your life.”  If he only knew. Dad took another deep breath then spoke in a lighter tone. “Taking my daughter to the bar for her first legal drink is out of the question because she's pregnant.  So why don't we meet for a birthday lunch? Maybe Saturday afternoon.”
“At Carlitto's?”
“You bet,” he said, and Donna could hear him smiling. Carlitto's was their place. They'd discovered it when she was five and the two of them had been enjoying a daddy-daughter day – Mom had been “morning sick” all day from being pregnant with Sammy, so it was just Donna and Dad and when Donna had smelled the restaurant from the sidewalk, she’d dashed to the front door and planted her face against the glass. Mr. Giovanni, owner of Carlitto's, had waved at her from inside - he'd looked so jolly with his shiny, pink cheeks and big, funny mustache.  So Donna had tugged at Dad's shirt and insisted she was starving to death, even though they'd shared a strawberry milkshake only minutes before. The bell clinked against the door when Dad opened it.  The smell of tomato, garlic and sausage was all-consuming. To this day, Donna couldn't smell pizza without thinking about jolly Mr. Giovanni.
“Welcome to Carlitto's,” Mr. Giovanni had said in a thick accent that reminded Donna of magic. “Are you two hungry?”  He'd winked right at Donna and then suddenly, she was famished. “Today's special is spaghetti and meatballs...plus a delicious Italian soda, on the house!” 
“Please, Daddy,” Donna had asked, “can we get spaghetti and meatballs?” Then she'd whispered, “But can we get it at a table instead of on the house?” 
That had been then, and now here they were, sixteen years later, still frequenting Carlitto's like it was the home of an old friend, one where good food and laughter fixed everything.
Donna hesitated then sighed.  “I couldn’t stay under you guys’ roof forever, Dad.  You know that, right?  I’ll be okay on my own in the world.  I won’t die.”  Not so long as Hunter can save me from Stephen, anyway.
Dad chuckled sadly.  “In my head I know that, honey.  But in my heart, I worry.  A parent never gets over the loss of a child.  We simply adjust to life without that child, and perhaps it makes us a little more anxious about the welfare of our surviving child.  And some parents adjust better than others.”
“Mom adjusted by never seeing me as good enough.”
Dad’s tone was melancholy.  “Your mother loves you very much, Donna.” 
“She has a strange way of showing it, Dad.”
“Maybe it is strange.  But it’s heartfelt, nonetheless.”
They said their goodbyes then Donna leaned back in the rocking chair and immediately fell asleep.
chapter twenty


Donna woke up when the kitchen door slammed shut and Hunter's thunderous voice shot through the air. She uncurled herself and hopped from the rocking chair, still in yesterday's clothes, and ran downstairs to the living room as fast as her foggy head and leaden feet would go. But it wasn't Hunter she saw first.
“Samee!” 
Samee was shivering and had a blanket wrapped around her.   A bruise was on her cheek. Hunter, Dante and Trent circled her. Donna rushed up to hug her - she was ice cold.
“Are you okay?” Donna asked.
“Mostly. I mean, I guess...yeah.” Samee nodded frantically. 
Donna was confused. “How did you get home?” 
“Stephen dropped me off - just now.” Samee seemed confused, too. Hunter stood behind her, a molten glare in his eyes, his breathing shallow and rapid. Dante put a hand on Hunter's shoulder which Hunter tried to shrug off, but Dante held it there until Hunter's breathing relaxed. “I'm not sure what happened,” Samee took a deep breath. “But I'll tell you guys everything I do remember.” She glanced at everybody in the room.  Dark circles surrounded her eyes and her face looked almost as pale as Hunter's. “I was in the kitchen getting ready to fix a cheese and butter sandwich, then the kitchen door bashed open and a cop was there.”
“Was he a minion?” Donna asked.
Samee nodded. “He tried to grab me but I was holding a sharp knife, so I sliced his arm open, then I kicked him in the sack, exactly how you showed me.” She looked at Hunter. “That buckled him over.” 
“I'm quite sure it did,” Trent mumbled.
“I ran toward the door but then he took out his gun and smacked me with the barrel of it, hard.” Samee pointed to her bruised cheek. “I tried to scream, but he held a rag over my nose and mouth. It had something on it that smelled like burning tires and it made me pass out. I woke up with a wicked headache and inside a dark building that smelled like car grease and mold. The walls were made out of concrete blocks and there were no windows and only one door. But it was blocked from outside.”
“Stephen's hideout,” Hunter snarled.
“I tried to find a way out, but it was hard to see.  So I felt my way around.” Samee held up a hand to expose her fingers. The nails were scraped to nubs even smaller than the nubs on Donna's fingers.  And all of Samee's fingertips were raw. “Finally, after what seemed like forever, there was a noise.  Fumbling with keys, like that. Then the door smashed open and there he was. Even in the darkness, I recognized him instantly. I'll never forget the eyes of the monster that killed my family.” She brushed away a tear. “He told me to come with him but I told him, 'Go to hell, asshole.’” She looked at Hunter. “Sorry about the a-word.” 
Hunter said he couldn't care less what words Samee used to describe Stephen.
“He dragged me out of the building and covered my eyes so I couldn't see anything. We stopped and he pushed open a door and ice cold air came out. He took his hand off my eyes and told me to enjoy the view then he pushed me inside and slammed the door shut. A light came on and it took me a minute to adjust my eyes before I realized where I was.” Another tear trickled down Samee's cheek. “Stephen had shoved me in the freezer where he stored the bodies of those missing girls. There was a dead guy in there, too. He was wearing a police uniform.”
“The deputy sheriff,” Donna mumbled, but she couldn't remember his name. 
“I think he drained all their blood,” Samee shuddered. “I mean, they looked so pale…I thought Stephen had left me to freeze to death. But then he came back and pulled me out and pushed me in the back of a van that was next to the freezer. He came in after me. It had no windows, so I couldn’t see where we were going. A cop drove. He was different from the one who came to our house.  This one had dark hair and the cop that took me from the kitchen was blond. I don't know how far we went, but I do know that it took more than an hour to get from there to here.” She looked from Hunter to Dante, to Trent, and then to Donna. “Does that help at all?” 
Dante nodded. “It does love, thank you.”
Samee nodded sadly. “Stephen said, 'You are going to deliver a message to my bastard brother and his cute little whore. Tell them that unless they abort the baby I will do it myself and let Donna bleed out.' The van stopped.  Stephen shoved me out, right at the end of our driveway. Then the van took off. It was a plain, white van but I didn’t see the license plate, so that probably doesn't help much, either. But it's dark outside and I couldn't see well.” Samee still shook, and it was hard to tell how much was from being cold. Hunter glanced at Dante and nodded once. 
“May I heal you now, love?” 
Samee nodded, her eyes heavy with the weight of her unwanted, recent experience. He put an arm around her and led her to his room.  
After the door closed behind them, Donna collapsed in a sobbing heap on the couch. So this was it. Somehow, Stephen knew about her and Hunter’s baby – the miracle that shouldn't have happened, but did. And now, he intended to destroy it. The room spun.  Donna's ears rang and her vision turned black. She fell away into nothingness.
Donna stirred then slowly awakened.  It was sometime in the early hours of morning. Warm, silky, bed sheets enfolded her in spicy scent. 
Hunter. 
She opened her eyes.  Dante stood over her, right next to Hunter. 
“Is the baby okay?” she asked. 
“That's why I'm here, love. May I check now?” 
Donna nodded. 
Dante placed his hands on her abdomen. Warmth quickly spread from his hands to Donna's tummy. Dante closed his eyes and whispered words she didn't understand. Something moved inside Donna's belly then the heat from Dante's touch faded. 
“The baby's fine, love.” He looked over his shoulder at Hunter. “The baby didn't cause Donna's fainting.” Dante looked back to her. “But love, when did you and your baby last eat?” 
“I...don't remember.”
“You must take care of yourself very well to carry this child, love. This is not a typical pregnancy.”
“I kind of figured that,” she mused. 
“I'll fix you something to eat,” Dante turned to leave. It was then that Donna knew - if Sam had lived to grow up, he would have turned out just like Dante.
“Dante?” she stopped him. “Why am I so tired?” 
He returned to her side and placed his hand against her cheek. “A pregnancy of this nature often takes its toll on the mortal host.”
Donna gasped. “I'm going to be like this for the entire nine months?” 
“No,” he assured. “The worst will be over in a day or two.”
“Thank goodness,” Donna smiled at Hunter. 
“And love - you're due in five months.”
Donna did the math. “February?”
“Now you understand the exhaustion,” he smiled compassionately. “Your body's preparing to metabolize at a rate that's humanly impossible.”
“If it's impossible, how can I do it?”
“The cravings will help.”
Donna scrunched up her nose. “Cravings?”
“Yes, love. They should start any moment now.” Dante quietly left the room.
Donna looked at Hunter. “Is Samee okay?” 
Hunter nodded then stroked Donna's hair.  Seconds later, Dante delivered the food: cheese toast with orange marmalade, apple slices with horseradish and honey drizzled over them, and oysters in strawberry pudding. 
“Um,” Donna cleared her throat. “Samee explained how vampires are with mortal food, and I know you mean well Dante, but -”
“Just try it, please,” he handed her the fork. “I believe this is exactly what the baby wants.” Donna looked pleadingly at Hunter, who smiled back. Of course he would. According to him, the display on that plate probably made perfect sense. 
The cheese toast with marmalade seemed the least disgusting combination, so Donna brought it to her mouth and slowly took a bite, then swallowed. 
“Mmmm, not bad.” She took another bite. Before long, Donna had soaked up the horseradish-honey with a forkful of oysters and pudding.  Dante brought her more. “Thanks, Dante.  You were right. This really hits the spot.”
“Finish everything then sleep,” he instructed. “By tomorrow, your energy should be restored.” His words lulled her.  Donna finished her snack then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
chapter twenty one


The next day was Saturday, and Donna woke up feeling refreshed, madly in love, and frisky. 
“Hi,” she winked seductively at Hunter, who sprawled against a stack of pillows, watching cartoons.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” 
“You're looking hot enough to melt the sun,” Donna whispered.  Before Hunter could respond, she crawled on top of him and planted her mouth on his. She pulled off her clothes, then his, and had her way. Then they rested.  Within a few minutes, Donna was ready to go again.  Hunter was happy to oblige. After that, she dozed in his arms for a short while and when she woke up, tackled him again. The fourth time was on the floor when Donna threw Hunter down after he attempted to rise and get dressed. Back in bed, after the fifth time, Hunter finally said, “Sweetheart, even for a vampire, there are limits.” 
“I admit you do look pretty tired.” Donna lay back on the pillow and frowned. “I wonder what's wrong with me.” 
Hunter brushed aside a strand of her hair and chuckled. “Pregnancy hormones.”
She sat up. “Hormones?”
“After you fell back asleep, Dante explained that although such a thing is extremely rare, you're following the exact pattern for a normal and healthy vampire - mortal pregnancy.”
“What's normal and healthy for this?”
“Apparently, insatiable cravings for exotic food combinations and lots of sex.” 
“Oh,” Donna nodded slowly. 
“And, in the last couple of weeks before the baby comes, hemorrhoids.” 
“Ew,” her lip curled. Then she pulled him close and kissed him again.  They tangled in the sheets another time. After that, Donna had to pee and Hunter looked almost ready to run outside to the broad daylight just to get a break. 
She got out of bed and fumbled for her clothes, which were tied in knots around the bedposts and strewn haphazardly across the room. She grabbed the bedspread, wrapped it around herself, and hurried from the room and into the moth ball hall. In her mad dash, Donna almost tripped over something set in front of the bedroom doorway. She pushed it aside, rushed to the bathroom door and pressed the latch. It was locked and the shower was running.
“Hey,” she hollered. “Who's in there?” 
“It's just me,” Samee cheerfully called back. 
“I have to pee.”
“Okay, I'll be out soon.”
“I don't have to pee soon,” Donna danced in the hallway. “I have to pee now.”
“I'll only be a few more minutes.”
“I'm the mortal half of a vampire – mortal pregnancy, Samee. I don't think my bladder's going to wait a few more minutes.” 
Samee sighed loud. “Fine, hold on.” The shower curtain snapped back and a few seconds later, the door latch popped up.  “Come on in.” 
“Thanks.”  Donna opened the door and steam belched out at her.  She tiptoed through Samee’s footprint puddles and over to the toilet. Samee was already back in the shower. 
“So it's true then,” she said from behind the curtain. “I'm going to be an auntie.”
“It's true,” Donna removed the bedspread then sat on the toilet. 
Samee squealed loud enough to make Donna jump. “I'm so happy!” She poked her head out from behind the curtain and giggled. “I've never seen anybody naked on the potty before.” Then she snapped the curtain shut again. “I wonder if it's going to be a little girl. Wouldn't that be great? Or maybe a little version of Hunter. Aw, how cute. Speaking of Hunter, he's giving me driving lessons tonight. I'm so excited. He's going to make me take the stupid DMV test like a regular mortal, even though his contract killer friend makes really incredible fake IDs.  I think he’s just being that way to make me live in a mortal world, you know, since I am one and all.  And anyhow, I can pass the test even though I'll be really nervous.” 
Dante's healing indeed works like magic because Samee’s even more impossibly chipper than before. 
Donna wondered how quickly Trent could get after a second bathroom if she begged him. She wrapped back up in her blanket, hollered thanks to Samee and headed to the bedroom. It turned out the object she'd almost tripped over on her mad dash to the bathroom was her suitcase. 
I won’t have to wear yesterday's clothes or try to squeeze into something of Samee's after all. 
She smiled at Trent's thoughtfulness.

It wasn't until after she'd waited for the hot water heater to re-fill, had her own shower and was sitting in the kitchen with her hands around a warm coffee mug that it occurred to Donna. 
“Hunter, I'm supposed to meet my dad for lunch in a couple hours and the Mustang's at my parents' house. Will you give me a ride?” 
Hunter scoffed. “Of course not. It's daylight out there.” But then he winked. “How about you just take my car?”
“The Ferrari?” Donna shook her head. “It's too nice. I mean, I can't. I shouldn't. Okay, I will.” She jumped from her seat, ran to Hunter and kissed him generously. 
“You're so cute when you're happy.” He took her face and kissed it back. “Have fun with your dad today. Just don't get a speeding ticket and make sure you're home before nightfall.” 
“I will, promise.” Donna refilled her coffee mug and rubbed Hunter's shoulders. Her phone rang. 
“Hi Mo,” she said. Hunter rolled his eyes.
“Donna, are you okay?” Mo didn't wait for an answer. “Because the last ten – or is it eleven - times I’ve called and texted, you didn’t answer.  Your blood-sucker did once, and he insisted you were just really tired. Why does he have to answer your phone?” Again, without waiting for an answer, Mo continued.  “For another thing, I just stopped by your house and your mom answered the door in absolute hysterics.” Mo burped. “I thought she wasn't coming home until Monday. She went crazy on me, Donna. She screamed, 'You're to blame for this nightmare, aren't you?' I had no idea what she was talking about. Then she yelled, 'He looks like the kind of freak you'd be responsible for bringing into my daughter's life.'” Mo snorted. “As if I'd ever set you up with a blood-sucker. Your mom's lost it. So where are you?” Mo finally waited long enough for Donna to reply.
“I'm at my new house with Hunter.”
Mo gasped. “You moved in with the creature feature?”
“I moved in with Hunter,” Donna emphasized his name. “We're living in the house at the end of Autumn Lane.”
“The haunted one?”
“Wait until you see it, Mo. It doesn't look haunted any more. Trent's fixing it up.”
“Trent? The cute one?” Mo's tone perked up. “I knew it. Damned miracle worker. Too bad he's...Well, anyway, your mom said there was a huge hole in your bedroom wall and that she intended to file charges against blood-sucker for it. She said she called the police last night, but surprise, they didn't show up.  So she was going to call them again today. She pointed to where your room is – well, I guess now it's where your room was...and said, 'Just look at what that asshole did.' Well, I have to admit, Donna, I agree that your blood-sucker’s an asshole, but I didn't see any hole in the wall and I told her so. So she looked up and said in a surprised voice, 'It's gone. But how?' Well, here's how. It never was there in the first place. She's losing it. So anyway, what about the bundle of joy?”
“Hunter knows about the baby,” Donna said.
“And?” Mo persisted.
“And he's happy about it,” Donna smiled when she said that. Hunter winked.
“He damned well better be,” Mo snapped. “That's my niece or nephew growing inside you.” She laughed. “So here we are, your milestone birthday's tomorrow and I can't take you out and get you drunk.”
Donna laughed. “You couldn't have anyway. You're not old enough until December.”
“All our lives, you've been rubbing it in that you're the oldest,” Mo pretended to complain, but it was halfhearted. Anyway,” she added, “I gotta go to work. I just wanted to know you're okay.”
“Thanks for checking on me, Mo.” 

Donna spent the next couple hours chatting with Samee, investigating online college options and downloading programs to improve the Organization's computer capabilities. She also sketched Trent and Dante. Samee bubbled over when she saw the likenesses. 
“They say vampires have no soul, but you captured theirs perfectly.” 
Trent grinned at his sketch. “Damn, I'd forgotten how good-looking I am.” 
Dante thanked Donna and hung his picture where the mirror above his dresser should have been. Hunter wouldn't let himself be sketched.  He said he'd spent a lot of time forgetting what he was and didn't particularly care to be reminded. Donna kissed his cheek.  
“You're half of me, Eternal Partner.” He searched Donna's eyes and then agreed to let her sketch him. When he saw the finished product, a grin twitched across his lips. 
“Yeah, I remember that guy,” he said softly. “He used to be a pretty decent man.”
“He still is,” Donna placed her hand over his and nuzzled his spice-scented neck. 
A little while later, Donna sat behind the wheel of Hunter’s fast car, turned the engine and smiled. 
“I feel like I'm ready to take on the whole, wide world,” she winked at Hunter. 
He winked back. “I'm glad sweetheart. But let's not tempt fate.” 

chapter twenty two


Donna met Dad at Carlitto's.  The tiny restaurant was sandwiched between a bright, bustling floral shop and a dark, dismal gun shop - like a neutral nation between two opposing forces. Mom didn't care for Carlitto's.  She called it “morbid and constricted.” She also didn't like its location, which was in the original township and meant the place had poor parking. Customers had to park in the lot below, then walk up the hill and through a small park that was just across the cobblestone street from Carlitto’s. Donna's parents called Carlitto’s “a hole in the wall” but only one parent said that affectionately. The place had seating enough for only a dozen people - three tables, which made Carlitto's a great place to go on nice days when customers could sit across the street at the park, which regulars like Mike and Donna McCormick did. 
When you walked through the doorway of Carlitto's, you were greeted like long lost family even if you'd been in the day before, or never before. So when Donna pushed open the front door and the bells tied to the door handle announced their arrival, they were met by the familiar scent of freshly baked bread sticks and the merry voice of Mr. Giovanni. 
“Ah! Greetings Mister McCormick and daughter McCormick.” Mr. Giovanni radiated with the glow that comes from being a middle aged, overweight, moderately-successful small business owner whose pride goes into everything from his pastries to his patrons. 
“Hello, McCormicks!”  From the kitchen came the sing-song greeting of Mrs. Giovanni, followed by the clattering of dishes.
“Greetings Josepe and Allegra,” Dad hollered back. 
“Sit, sit, sit, McCormicks.”  Mr. Giovanni indicated toward a table.  Dad shook his head.  
“It’s a nice day, Josepe.  Donna and I will sit outside in the sunlight.”
“Si,” Mr. Giovanni chortled.  “Sunlight!”  He grinned broadly and extended his fleshy arms in a gesture of welcoming.  
“Tomorrow,” Dad said with a mix of pride and remorse, “Donna becomes twenty-one years old, and another day away from being my little girl.” 
“Dad,” Donna giggled. “You know even when I'm sixty I'll still be your little girl.”
Dad wrapped an arm around her, leaned in and kissed her forehead. “So, Josepe, we are here for a delicious meal -”
“- On the house!” Mr. Giovanni winked at Donna. 
Dad was surprised. “Well, thank you Josepe, but it's not
 necessary-“
“Bah,” Mr. Giovanni pushed the very idea away and chuckled, which made his chin flesh jiggle. “This is a special day for a special girl. Anything at all you want, McCormicks. You are my favorite customers.” 
Dad and Donna smiled warmly, because everybody knew all the Giovannis' customers were their favorite. Right now, that meant them.
“It smells delightful in here, Josepe.” Dad breathed in deeply. “What do you and your lovely wife have simmering in the kitchen?” 
“Well, Mister McCormick,” Mr. Giovanni put his hands on his hips.  It made Donna think of a samurai warrior instead of an apron-clad chef. “Today our special is Involtini di Pollo al Proscuitto.” 
Donna looked to Dad for help. 
“Chicken with Ham and Veggies,” he said triumphantly while Mr. Giovanni nodded in satisfaction.
“Very good, Mister McCormick. The language of love does not deceive you.” 
Dad sighed. “The language might not, but the act does.”
“Ah, love is a road with many bumps along the way. But a good meal fixes everything.” He patted his round belly and laughed. “Love has been good to the Missus and me!” He winked. “So what shall it be for Mister and his lovely daughter today?”
Dad ordered first. “I'll take the special, Josepe. And a glass of red wine to suit.”
“Very well. And what may we prepare for Miss Donna?” Mr. Giovanni lifted his bushy eyebrows at her.
“Do you have anything with beef?” Donna asked.
“But of course, this is Carlitto’s!” Mr. Giovanni's chin jiggled again. “Would you like beef raviolis, or -?”
“I'd just like beef.”
Mr. Giovanni frowned. “Miss comes to Carlitto's, known worldwide to be the most exquisitely delightful sin a person may tantalize their taste buds with, and she wants a plate of plain beef?”
Donna shrugged. “Well, on second thought, maybe not plain.”
“Oh good,” the relief in Mr. Giovanni's voice was clear. “How would Miss like the beef prepared?” 
“With a side of spumoni, please.”
Mr. Giovanni looked desperately toward Donna, and then toward Dad. “Wouldn't Miss rather enjoy her spumoni as a delightful dessert?”
“No, thank you,” Donna smiled. “I'd really like the beef and spumoni served together, if it's not too much trouble.”
“I suppose,” Mr. Giovanni lifted his eyebrows again, “if it is in our kitchen then it can be on your plate, Miss. Like family, we are.” He stretched out his beefy arms and jabbed at Dad, who stared at her like she'd just sprouted an extra head.
“Thank you.  Oh, and one more thing?”
“Si, Miss?”
“I'd like the beef raw.” Both men looked at Donna as if she'd just asked for a platter full of live rattlesnakes. “And with lemon,” she added. 
Mr. Giovanni spoke in an apologetic tone. “No raw, but perhaps it can be rare, Miss.”
Donna smiled politely. “As rare as possible, please.  Rare enough that maybe a good vet could bring it back to life.”
“Certainly.” Mr. Giovanni tried to chuckle but wound up looking sharply at Dad.
“And with honey drizzled on top?” she added.
Mr. Giovanni cleared his throat. “What would Miss care to drink?” 
What she really wanted was the juice from about sixteen jars of anchovies, but was afraid to ask, given the concerned looks over something as simple as raw beef. 
“Italian soda, I guess.”
Mr. Giovanni gestured jovially. “Fine then.  Thank you, McCormicks. I will soon return with your beverages.” Mr. Giovanni smiled politely before shuffling to the kitchen. He looked back twice at Donna, his brow lowered then spoke quietly to his wife.  Soon, muttering, mumbling, and “shushing” wafted from the kitchen, in between the clunking of pans and sizzling of oil. The aroma of garlic and marinara sauce drifted from the kitchen and Donna wiped her lower lip, which was wet with drool. 
Dad whispered. “Raw beef and spumoni, Donna? Really?” 
She shrugged. “I'm pregnant, Dad.”
“You're a pregnant human, not a rabid dog.” Dad frowned and motioned for her to wipe her lip. 
“Oh,” she giggled. “Sorry.”  
Mr. Giovanni stood in the kitchen doorway and cleared his throat again.  
“The plates will be prepared shortly,” he announced. 
“We can hardly wait for the food, Josepe,” Dad hid his horror well behind the mask of his professional, high-paid lawyer disguise. 
Since it was in the off-hours between lunch and dinner, and no other customers crossed the threshold of Carlitto's, Dad and the Giovannis freely engaged in small talk while the meals were prepared.   Mrs. Giovanni shouted from the kitchen – something about Mr. Giovanni's bunions.  Mr. Giovanni complained about the rising price of risotto.  Dad exclaimed about the shame of such things. Donna stood in utter silence, watching Mr. Giovanni make his way around the restaurant with a bleach-soaked cleaning rag in one chubby hand and a stack of place mats in the other. There was something about his sauce-splattered apron...the crimson smears off-set against a creamy white background…that made Donna salivate more. She repeatedly sucked in so as not to upset Dad any further. 
Eventually, two plates of scrumptious looking food were presented. Dad's plate looked scrumptious, anyhow. Donna's resembled something a dog might be fed from the scrap heap.  She could tell Mr. Giovanni was embarrassed to have such a display cross his counter, but Donna salivated at the sight of it anyway, which didn't go unnoticed by Mr. Giovanni. 
“I'm really hungry,” she shrugged.
With plates and glasses balanced on a tray, Dad strolled across the cobblestone street to the park.  Donna was right beside him, picking her nails and barely containing the urge to grab the plate of beef and swallow it whole. They sat at a warm, sun-drenched table and participated in small talk for a few minutes. Dad's face contorted just a little when Donna dipped the rare meat in spumoni.  Then she sucked loudly and swallowed large pieces without even chewing.
“Mr. Giovanni and his wife don't look a day older than they did all those years ago when we first came here,” Dad tried to keep his voice from giving away his disgust at his daughter’s slurping and grunting. “Maybe their food has some kind of anti-aging quality. I hope you're enjoying...yours.” 
“Mmmmmm,” Donna agreed. Dad examined her empty plate and sighed when she licked it. 
“Donna, we need to talk.”
“I know, Dad.” She swallowed a sip of Italian soda and shuddered. “Yuck!”
He scoffed. “You usually love that stuff.”
“Well, I don't love it today. It's horrible.”
“And now, rare meat is delicious to my daughter who, the last time I checked, was only satisfied if her burger was well-done enough to double as a rock.” Dad rubbed his chin. Donna looked at her cleaned plate and then at Dad's, which was still quite full. She plucked a piece of ham from it and popped it in her mouth. She did the same with a thick chicken chunk. Dad pushed the plate to her. “Go ahead, honey. I'm not very hungry, for some reason.”
Donna's eyes lit up. “Are you sure?” He nodded. “Thanks, Dad. Do you think Mr. Giovanni could make me a take-out order of spumoni and cheese raviolis? It would make for a wonderful snack later on.”
“Donna, you're scaring me. What is the matter with you?”
She gulped a large sip of Italian soda, which didn't taste quite so bad now that it was washing down vegetables. “Nothing’s the matter, Dad.  I'm just pregnant.” 
“Well,” Dad snorted. “I'll be the first to admit I've never been pregnant, but I have been around women who were.  None of them exhibited...such cravings as this.” He pointed toward the wiped-clean beef and spumoni plate. 
“I'm sorry, Dad. But please understand -”
“Honey,” Dad sighed in exasperation. “I understand you're dating a man whose effect on you is disturbing. I also understand that he apparently has friends who are willing to go out at night and cover up his violent doings, who don't quite get the paint color matched right when they repair a fist-sized hole through an exterior wall. Now, I understand that you're an adult, so I can't forbid you to date a man who seems to have a strange hold on those who have anything to do with him. But what I do not understand is how your mother and I raised you to give up your future and possibly your safety to be with such a man.”
Donna shook her head. “That's so unfair. You haven't even met Hunter yet.” 
“Honey, a fist through the wall should make it clear why your mother and I feel worried over your choice.”
“Dad, please.” Donna brushed her finger along the second empty plate and licked it. “You're just going to have to trust me on this until you meet Hunter. He's not violent, not toward me, anyhow.” Dad eyeballed her harshly. “He loves me deeply and we're going to have a baby.” 
Dad offered a look that felt judgmental. He had yet to meet Hunter, but already had his mind made up. Well, who was he to take the word of his cheating wife over his own daughter? Donna was about to ask him, but just then, the stout form of Mrs. Giovanni in her apron and hair net tromped outside the front door and stood under the red and white checkered awning at the entrance of Carlitto's. 
“Miss Donna,” she called. “Would you come up here, please? The Mister and I have a special dessert for your birthday.” Donna shrugged at Dad, secretly glad for the interruption. Maybe he was glad, too, because he grinned sadly and waved her on. 
“I'll stay here. I need time to think,” he mumbled.  
Donna picked up the empty lunch plates and made her way up the hill to the restaurant where she was sung a boisterous, off-key round of “Happy Birthday” and given burly hugs from both Giovannis. 
“This is for you,” Mrs. Giovanni held a cake that smelled like Christmas and looked divine. “It's Italian Rum Cake.” Donna wasn't sure she'd ever had Italian Rum Cake, but it sounded absolutely perfect. “Go ahead now. Make a wish.” Mrs. Giovanni's fleshy arms goaded her on. Donna smiled, closed her eyes and made her wish.
I wish that Hunter, our baby and everybody else in the house, plus Mo, stays safe from Stephen. 
She blew out the candles. 
“It was a good wish, yes?” Mrs. Giovanni winked. 
“It's exactly what I need right now.” 
Mrs. Giovanni nodded in satisfaction. “Now let us cut the cake. How big of a piece do you want?”
Donna chuckled. “I could eat the whole thing.” 
Especially if it was dipped in goose liver pate frosting...
Mrs. Giovanni giggled and winked at Donna. If she hadn't known better, Donna would've thought Mrs. Giovanni was participating in Hunter's favorite trick of mind reading. Mrs. Giovanni gave the knife to Mr. Giovanni. He hummed Happy Birthday and sliced the cake. 
“Miss Donna,” Mrs. Giovanni placed a plump hand on Donna's wrist and spoke in a serious tone. “Please, we have a gift for you.” She opened Donna's hand and placed something in it, then clamped it closed. “Do not look yet. This is for safety, so put it in your pocket.  When you need it, it will be ready for you.”
“I don't understand,” Donna glanced at her closed fist. “Safety?”
“Si, for you and for your baby.”
She gasped. “How do you know about my baby?”
“Raw beef and spumoni are common cravings. Only a desire for anchovy juice is missing. But never mind, dear,” Mrs. Giovanni patted Donna's arm. “That will come later. It is all typical of a mortal – vampire pregnancy.”
“How do you know -?”
Mrs. Giovanni pulled back her lip to reveal a fang. “And my husband, too.” She motioned toward Mr. Giovanni, who hummed and sliced and doled out cake pieces on plates. “Josepe! Stop making noise and show her your fangs.”
“Huh?...oh. Si.” He looked up, tilted back his head, curled his upper lip and displayed a fang with a chunk of basil stuck to it. Then he went back to slicing, doling and humming. 
“You two,” Donna stumbled, “are vampires? All this time? I mean, since I was a kid?”
“Si,” Mr. Giovanni chuckled. “Much longer than that, Miss.”
“And we know Steffano,” she spat on the floor.
“Steffano?” Donna shook her head.  “Do you mean Stephen?”
“Si.  That creature killed our only child.” 
Donna's hand flew over her mouth to cover a gasp. Was there no end to Stephen's torment? 
Mr. Giovanni spoke. “When Steffano was Turned many, many, years ago, Miss Donna, he took a special dislike to those who he thought had betrayed him.” Mr. Giovanni placed the knife tip against his forehead and tapped. “Steffano was never right in the head. He hated the Missus and me because we were parents to the one who broke his stone-cold heart. He killed her and Turned us so we could watch her die.”
“Lifetime after lifetime,” Mrs. Giovanni added. Both Giovannis looked straight at Donna.
“Oh, that's terrible!”  Then it slowly sunk in, and Donna legs buckled.  Mrs. Giovanni had to steady her.
“Please, sit.” Mrs. Giovanni motioned for Mr. Giovanni to pull over a chair, which she pushed Donna in and then leaned over her like a mother hen. “You did not think it was by accident that you chose to come here today, do you, Miss? Breathe deeply, please.”
“You,” Donna gulped, “are my parents?” Mrs. Giovanni brushed a tear from Donna's cheek with a handkerchief she pulled from the pocket of her apron. The handkerchief smelled like sausage and bread. 
“We were your parents, Miss Donna,” Mr. Giovanni jiggled his jowls. “Now, Mister and Missus McCormick are your parents. They have done a fine job in raising you. We are so proud.”
“But...” 
It can't be. 
“Si, it is.”  Mr. Giovanni cleared his throat.  “Sorry, Miss Donna.  Sometimes my mind reading skills get the better of me.”  
Mrs. Giovanni gave him a curt look.  “Well, you had best get the better of your mind reading skills quickly, husband.  You don’t belong in mortal heads and you know it.”
“Wh-what was my name?” Donna broke in.
Mrs. Giovanni smiled. “My dear, it was Vittoria.”
Mr. Giovanni interjected. “In English, this means 'Victory'.”
“And,” Mrs. Giovanni added, “'she who conquers'.” 
“Vittoria,” Donna said it out loud, quietly. “What a beautiful name.”
“For a beautiful girl,” he winked.
“Were my toes ugly back then?”
“Sweetie, no.”  She patted Donna's knee. “They are not ugly toes. They are goddess toes.”
“That's what my grandma said.”
“Your grandma was right,” Mrs. Giovanni gestured upward. “A goddess watches over you.”
“Protects you,” Mr. Giovanni finished then motioned impatiently. “Now, Miss Donna. Please place the gift in your pocket.” Donna stuffed the item in the back pocket of her jeans without looking at it. 
“Be safe, child,” Mrs. Giovanni said. “The baby within you holds special purpose - to destroy the Monster.”
“The child must survive,” he emphasized.
“Si.” Mrs. Giovanni vigorously nodded. “The Prophecy tells that the child conceived of the vampire Warrior and mortal Warrior will destroy the Arch-evil Monster.” 
“The Prophecy? I thought it wasn't unraveled yet.”
Mr. Giovanni explained. “Miss Donna, it is not completely unraveled, but some parts are clear. The Prophecy tells of the male Warrior and female Warrior who give birth to the child Warrior. You are the mother of that child.”
Donna giggled despite the shock of all her new knowledge. “I'm afraid you have the wrong female. I'm a computer geek, and apparently, a bit of an artist. But I'm not a Warrior.”
Mrs. Giovanni spoke emphatically. “You are. The time has come.” She stared in Donna's eyes. “A mother knows.” 
“The Warrior child of both bloods will destroy the Monster,” Mr. Giovanni said.
“Blood cannot kill blood,” Donna implored. “And Stephen is Hunter’s brother, so the Prophecy can't be fulfilled by Hunter's child.”
“No, Miss Donna,” Mr. Giovanni shook his head. “The Monster spoken of is not Steffano. It is Michaelo.”
“Michaelo?”
“The one you know as Mayor Michael St. James. The child portends Michael's Ultimate Destruction.  So the child will be much-sought – the Monster will want him dead. You must be careful.”  Mr. Giovanni pointed toward Donna's pocket.
“Word travels quickly at night in the shadows, my dear.” Mrs. Giovanni said. 
Mr. Giovanni nodded. “Your enemies will learn of the child you carry.” 
“Stephen already knows.” Donna looked to them, desperately.
“You must trust nobody,” he instructed.
“Except us,” she patted Donna’s shoulder, which made her jump. “You can trust us. The mister and I are on the same side as Hunter.”
“We were so happy when he moved to town and we found him shopping,” he said.
“Shopping?” Samee said Hunter hated to shop.
“At the vampire store,” Mrs. Giovanni replied.
Donna frowned. “Vampire store? What does it sell? Blood transfusions...high octane sunscreen?”
“Si, yes.” Mr. Giovanni said.
His wife lightly punched his arm. “Do not lie to her, Josepe. Mister Howie does not sell transfusions.”
“But he does sell sunscreen. And we are lucky,” Mr. Giovanni pointed. “His store is right next door.”
Donna raised an eyebrow. The flower store?” They shook their heads. Donna's eyes widened. “The gun store?” They nodded in unison. Donna shook her head. “I would've expected a vampire supply store to be...different. Maybe neon strobe lights and Goth kids trying on fangs.” Instead, the store the Giovanni's referred to was dingy, with barred windows and cobwebs.   It reminded Donna of a morgue. Plus, she’d never seen it open.  It was just dark, atrocious and foreboding.  
I’m not sure I like the idea of my Eternal Partner doing his grocery shopping there.
Mr. Giovanni's arms flailed excitedly. “It's a wonderful store, Miss Donna.”
“And not just for vampires,” Mrs. Giovanni added.  “Demons and minions shop there, too.”
“Oh…”
“All sorts of Underworld people!”  Mr. Giovanni grinned ear-to-eat.  “Mister Howie builds, repairs and sells weapons designed specifically for combat against Underworld forces.”
“Weapons,” Donna muttered. “How...nice.”
“And sunscreen pills,” Mrs. Giovanni added with a broad grin. 
“They are specially formulated for vampires,” he said. “But they are very, very expensive.”
“And rare.” 
“So,” Donna spoke slowly as the puzzle pieces clicked together. “This Mister Howie guy is the one who hoards those sunscreen pills Hunter carries around?”
“Si,” they nodded in union again.
“Well then,” Donna replied. “Mister Howie is an asshole.”
“Hush!” Mrs. Giovanni frowned. “Mister Howie is a hero.” 
“He is her hero,” Mr. Giovanni mocked his wife. “Superhero, like with a cape. She swoons.”
“I swoon because he lacks this.” She shook her husband's jellyfish belly. 
“Bah!” He shooed her away and turned to Donna. “Mister Howie eats like swine, and for this, my wife finds him handsome.” Mr. Giovanni tossed his arms up in mock despair. “What's a fat, handsome, Italian vampire to do? But, listen, Miss Donna. Mister Howie is the only merchant on this side of the earth from whom vampires may purchase SPF 12000. Right here, next door to us. How lucky are we?” Both Giovannis grinned and watched Donna pointedly, apparently waiting for an answer. 
“Pretty lucky?” she said with trepidation.
“Si,” he nodded vigorously. “Very lucky. There are others in the world who have sun protection products, but they are lesser quality.”
Mrs. Giovanni's tone became somber. “I've heard of a vampire who took one of those cheap pills and became dust after only one second.” she tsked. “Such a shame.”
“Let that be a lesson to you, Miss Donna,” Mr. Giovanni examined her solemnly. “It does not pay to skimp on sun protection or ammunition. This is why Mister Howie is such an asset. He has both.”
“And weapons!” his wife cheerfully added.
“Okay,” Donna nodded. “But...” She wasn't sure how to continue. But there stood the Giovannis, like a pair of plump pigeons perched on a wire waiting for bread crumbs. “You two own a restaurant and prepare food, which is something vampires aren't generally known for doing well.”
“Food was our passion while we were mortal,” he patted his belly.
Her head tilted. “Why should a Turn change that?”
“I suppose it shouldn’t.  But what I’m getting at is this - you have a nice life here. Why get involved with weapons?”
“Ah,” Mr. Giovanni said. “You do not understand why some Underworld inhabitants use weapons against other Underworld inhabitants.  Someday soon, you will. Then you will appreciate why there are special ways to kill the undead.”  He searched Donna's eyes and she swore there was regret in his own.
“Mister Howie has the latest technology in those ways,” Mrs. Giovanni beamed. “But, Miss Donna, it is not just for the Underworld that he provides his services. Mister Howie was a weapons contractor to the mortals during each World War. He supplied guns and ammunition to famous war leaders.” 
“What side was he on?” Donna asked. 
“Side?” Mr. Giovanni shook his head and sprouts of fine, gray hair flapped about like feathers.
“Was he on Hitler's side, or ours?” 
Both Giovannis stared blankly, so Donna tried again. 
“Did he supply weapons to the Nazis?” 
More blank stares. 
“Which mortal side did this Howie guy supply weapons to?” 
That made the Giovannis look at each other then burst into laughter so hard that it sent waves of vampire belly-fat flopping. It took almost a full minute for the laughter to die down, but when it did, both Giovannis wiped away jovial tears while Donna folded her arms and bit on her fingernails. 
“What's so damned funny?” she asked.
“Miss Donna,” Mrs. Giovanni explained. “Mister Howie supplies to the side with money.” She took a deep breath and wiped away more laugh tears with the edge of her apron. “Mister Howie is crazy but, he's not daft.”  She looked at her husband.  “Can you imagine Mister Howie taking up sides with mortals?” The Giovannis chortled and snorted until more tears ran from their eyes.
“He's crazy?” 
“Oh, si, Miss,” Mrs. Giovanni assured Donna. “Mister Howie is not like us.” Both Giovannis smiled wide. A disturbing image entered Donna's mind...the sweet, corpulent couple keeping sentry over a rack of sausages, poking the meat with AK 47 barrels and shooting at anything that tried to sneak a bite. 
“Is that where my gift came from? The crazy guy who supplied weapons to Nazis?” 
Mrs. Giovanni tried to reassure.  “Not just Nazis, Miss.  And the gift he made is magical.  It is a stake with which to find the very heart of a particular vampire.” She spoke low. “It was designed especially for you by Mister Howie's intuition.”
“The crazy guy's intuition designed my stake?”
“Mister Howie's weapons intuition is very strong.” Mrs. Giovanni promised. “With that tool, created by him just for you, you can pierce the heart of a vampire with extreme precision simply by willing the instrument to do so.”
“It can kill mortals too,” Mr. Giovanni said.  “Please be careful.”  
“But,” Donna argued, “it's so small.”
“Not when you need it to be big.” Mrs. Giovanni winked and giggled. Mr. Giovanni scoffed, but it was half-hearted. 
Dad strolled in. “What's taking so long up here?” He peered at Donna through his lawyer-glasses. “You look pale. Are you okay, honey?” 
“Um…”  Donna looked hopefully to Mrs. Giovanni. 
“Your daughter is merely learning the tricks of the trade to being pregnant,” she winked at Dad. “Girl talk. All about cravings and sex. You see?”
He saw.  And it worked like a charm. Dad blushed and didn't ask one more question about it. Donna smiled gratefully toward Mrs. Giovanni, who nodded back knowingly and blew a kiss. 
They shared the rum cake, which Mrs. Giovanni assured was safe for Donna to eat in her condition because the alcohol had cooked out. When regulars crossed the threshold of Carlitto's, Mr. Giovanni greeted them with a jocular, “Celebrate this Miss's special day with us, on the house!” Before long, the cake had disappeared, Donna had been sung “Happy Birthday” five more times and it was almost 6:00 pm. 
“Oh no,” she exclaimed. “I have to go.” 
“Why all of a sudden?” Dad asked. 
Donna glanced toward Mrs. Giovanni for more help. 
“Si, Mister McCormick,” she implored. “Your daughter looks tired. She needs rest. Pregnancy hormones, you see?” 
He swallowed hard and then tried to pay for the meal, but Mr. Giovanni waved him off. They thanked the Giovannis, both of whom winked knowingly at Donna.  The McCormicks left just as the sun's base touched the horizon. Before heading down the cobblestone street, Donna peered through the window of the gun shop.  It was called Howie's Gun Shop. 
Not surprising, but that’s where what makes sense ends.
She thought she caught a glimpse of a tall, ominous shadow looming by the doorway. She blinked, looked again and the shadow was gone. 
Dad walked with Donna to Hunter's car. 
“What is this?” he asked in a surprised tone when she stopped at the driver's side door.
“A Ferrari.”
“I see that,” he sounded exasperated. “What I mean is where did you get it?” 
“It's Hunter's.”
Dad studied the car then he studied his daughter. “What does this boyfriend of yours do for a living?”
“He's independently wealthy.” 
“Of course.” Dad's brow furrowed. “Honey -” Donna's phone rang.
“Hold on a second, Dad.”  She held up an index finger. “It's Hunter...Hi sweetie,” she said in the phone.
“Where are you?” Hunter was abrupt. 
“I'll be home soon.  We're just over here at Carlitto's.”
“Next to the gun shop?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you clear out there?”
Donna chuckled.  “It's not that far away.”
“I don't care,” his tone darkened. “Get home before the sun sets.”
“I will. I love you, Hunter.”
“I love you, too.” 
Donna clicked the phone shut then turned back to Dad, whose glare was chilly. That’s when Donna remembered.  Hunter's voice and Mo's had one quality in common: Projection. 
Dad’s fists clenched and so did his jaw.  “Your boyfriend knows where the local gun shop is and he demands you to be home at a certain time. I don't like this one bit.”
Donna sighed. “Dad, you just don't understand. And right now, I don't have time to explain it.” The sun dropped quickly and an evening chill crept in. Stephen would soon be gathering strength and the last thing she wanted to encounter was another evening with that twisted bastard in it. She looked sympathetically at Dad. “I understand your concerns and I'm sorry that now is not the time to discuss them.  But you should come over and meet Hunter. You'll love him.” 
“Donna -”
“Dad, I really have to go.” She shrugged apologetically, entered the car and buckled up. “Thank you for your concern. I love you.”
Dad leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I love you, too.  Happy birthday, hon. Things just seem extraordinary for you right now.  And I guess I can't stop you from making your own mistakes.”
Donna giggled nervously. “I guess not. Bye.” She started the Ferrari and sped out of the parking lot, glancing in the rear mirror to see Dad still standing there, watching. Guilt pierced her like a knife. 
The last person I ever wanted to let down is Dad. 
She turned her gaze away from him, faced the sunset, and tried to race it home.  She could have made it, if not for the cop that caught up with her a half mile from Autumn Lane. The stupid police car pulled out from behind a clump of trees, its lights flickering against the woods. 
“Shit,” Donna pulled to the side and waited. The cruiser lights continued to pulse in Donna's rear view mirror.  No cop emerged for several minutes.  Donna got increasingly agitated and felt the flashing lights bringing on a migraine. 
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she muttered.  Dusk dropped in like an unwanted house guest and finally the officer exited her car - a pink-faced, pudgy woman who sauntered toward Donna at a maddeningly slow pace.  Donna almost jumped out of the Ferrari and dragged her over. 
“May I see your driver's license, registration and proof of insurance please?” the officer said in a flat tone. 
“Here,” Donna handed over the information. 
The officer scanned the items for several moments.  It required the use of her flashlight to read them. Donna wondered what would happen if she explained that an evil vampire was hot on her trail, and could we please finish this up at the house. 
“Do you know why I stopped you, Ms. McCormick?” 
Donna's parents had trained her to never admit guilt without the benefit of legal counsel, so she looked up innocently and answered.  “No, Officer, I don't know why you stopped me.”
The officer raised an eyebrow and a smile flickered across her face despite the dull appearance in her eyes. “I clocked you at 77 in a 35 zone, miss.”
Donna shrugged, stayed cool and didn’t say anything. 
“Hold on one moment, please.” The officer handed back the license, insurance and registration, strolled to the patrol vehicle at an even more maddeningly slow pace than before.  She got in the car and called somebody.  Donna's phone rang.
“Where are you?” Hunter sounded stern. 
“About twenty seconds from home.” Donna chewed on a thumb nail. “I got pulled over by a cop. I was speeding in your car.  I'm sorry.”
“You need to come home. Now.”
“I know,” Donna rubbed her temples. “It’s just that this officer is frustratingly slow. She's kind of an airhead too.  She didn't take my license back to check for outstanding warrants. She just seems to be sitting there -”
“Get out of there.” 
Donna remembered her father’s lawyerly advice: Never leave the scene of a pullover. 
“I can’t get out of here,” she replied.  “It’s against the law.” 
“Damn it, Donna.”  She heard a storm brewing in his tone. “That cop is a minion who’s probably just told Stephen to come get you.”
“Oh no,” she swallowed hard. “What if you're right?”
“Of course I'm right,” he snapped. “Stay on the phone with me, sweetheart. I'll be there in a minute.”
A minute would give Stephen all the time he needed to get there, too. 
How can Hunter expect me to just sit still when I have wheels under me? 
Donna turned the engine, revved it and peeled out. The phone fell to the floor.  She looked back nervously, anticipating the police vehicle’s siren blare and a chase to commence. The officer’s car didn't budge. Donna felt clammy.  I almost landed in Stephen’s clutches again.  
She got the Ferrari up to 80, took a gut-wrenching turn at Autumn Lane then defied death by plowing at the driveway at a screeching 65. She slammed the brakes and popped open the garage door with her hands burning and shaking.  Her heart thundered back into her chest just as darkness settled in.  
“Good Lord!” she exclaimed.  I didn’t know I had it in me to drive like that.  Donna wiped sweat from her brow with one shaky hand and with the other, pushed the remote to close the garage door. 
It shut half way then stopped and re-opened.  
“Hunter?” 
He didn't answer.  Donna pushed the button again. The same thing happened. 
What is it all of a sudden with me and garage doors? 
She found her phone on the Ferrari’s floor, pushed Hunter's number then walked to the garage door. 
“A-ha,” she nodded and then kicked a tree branch out of the way. “You're the culprit.” She whirled around and pushed the button a third time.  A thick hand with icy fingers wrapped around Donna's wrist and pulled her out to the darkness. She tried to scream but Stephen's other hand quickly gripped tightly around her throat. She dropped the phone at the very moment Hunter answered. 
“How dare you taunt me twice in one lifetime,” Stephen hissed in Donna's ear.
Mrs. Giovanni's words came to her; “you can pluck to the very heart of a vampire with extreme precision simply by willing the instrument to do so.” Donna reached back with her free hand and pulled the stake from her back pocket. She envisioned the stake surging clear through to Stephen's shrunken heart and plunged it at his chest. But before she could actually do it, he slapped her hand away.  The stake flew from her grip and rolled to the ground. 
“I can read your mind, pet.”
So much for the crazy gun guy's instincts.
Stephen's hold around Donna's throat tightened.  Her vision darkened and sounds became muffled. Her heartbeat thumped against her eardrums, slower, slower as she drifted in and out of consciousness. 
“Hey, Stephen!” somebody yelled. “It's dinner time and we've got a stake on the grill just for you.” The voice was familiar, but it was also fuzzy.  Donna couldn't hear well with her heartbeat thumping against her head. Stephen's grip loosened.  He looked behind Donna.  She fell to the ground, gasping for oxygen. Seconds later, a roar erupted from Stephen and he fell forward with an enormous thud, landing on top of Donna's legs.  She was too weak to pull him off but as Stephen's lungs collapsed, hers filled. 
“Donna!” Mo yelled. “Are you okay? Please, be okay. Please!” 
Donna tried to reassure Mo that she was, but no sound came out. Another female spoke.  It seemed familiar, too.
“Mo, she's fine. She's coming back. Stop screwing around. Let's get her inside.” 
Somebody grabbed Donna under the armpits, while somebody else lifted Stephen's hulking carcass off her legs. Then Donna was pulled back to the garage. The voice she didn't recognize kept repeating, “Breathe, girl breathe,” and “that's right, you'll be fine.” She was the one who held Donna by the armpits. Mo had pulled Stephen off her. She trotted to the garage, punched the door button and the garage door started to close. 
“Wait!” said the voice attached to whoever had dragged Donna in. “Don't close it yet.” 
“Why not?” Mo snapped.
“I have to check something.” 
Mo shrugged. “Make up your damned mind. First it was, ‘stop screwing around’, and now it's, ‘stop being so efficient’.  Sheesh, whatever.” She pushed the button again to stop the door, and at that moment flames burst from right outside it. All three women screamed, even Donna, albeit hoarsely. 
The kitchen door flung open. Dante, Trent and Samee ran out to the garage.
“What just happened?” Samee yelled. 
“Holy crap,” Trent exclaimed.
Donna slowly sat up and looked behind her. The person who had dragged her inside was Mo's bartender friend from The Dark Side, the superhero in sensible business attire.
Liz?  
“Stephen just incinerated,” Liz said to Trent and Dante. 
“Did you see his eyes?” Dante asked.
She shook her head. “I didn't get a chance.” 
“Damn.” Trent leaned against the wall.
“That is certainly unfortunate,” Dante sighed. 
“What?” Mo asked. “What's unfortunate?” Nobody said a word. Mo turned to Liz. “Why did Dante say it's unfortunate that Stephen burst into flames?”
“Because we didn't get to check his eyes,” Liz answered.
“So what?” Mo persisted.
“So we don't know that Stephen is really dead.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mo's voice pierced the room like an arrow. “I got that asshole directly in the heart with the super-high-tech-stake-thingy you gave me. It went all the way through, just like you said it would if I focused. Well, I focused on killing the rotten, blood-sucking bastard.  No offense to the rest of you blood-suckers,” she glanced at Trent. “Don’t tell me we don’t know if the rotten bastard's dead. I know damned well that piece of shit is dead.” 
Liz's gaze darted from Trent to Dante, and back to Trent. 
“He did seem quite finished off,” she assured them.  Then she pointed to Donna. “I dragged her inside. Maybe I should've checked his eyes first, but she was pinned under him.  I had to get her safe.  It's just that...” Liz trailed off. 
“It's just that, what?” Mo barked. 
“I had that stake made for you.  It was handcrafted to kill a specific vampire.”
“Great,” Mo grinned. “Then it worked. See? No problem.”
Liz shook her head. “The vampire it was made for wasn't Stephen.” 
“All these damned vampire rules,” Mo groaned. “Okay, what does it mean that the stake wasn't made for Stephen?”
Dante burst in. “Love, any stake can kill any vampire, but stakes crafted by Howie are marked to protect certain people.” 
Mo's fists balled up. “But I killed him.  So it's like you said. Any stake can kill any vampire.” She glared at each vampire in the garage. “I don't see why this should be so damned complicated.”
That's when Trent spoke up. “It just means that your aim is absolutely perfect, even without Howie's technology. It's rare for a mortal.” He winked at Mo. “Maybe you should become a vampire killer.” 
Liz shot him a “shut up” look, which Trent didn't notice.
“Thanks,” Mo beamed. “If this whole journalist career path doesn't pan out, I might take your advice.”
Donna cleared her scratchy, sore throat. “Mo, what are you doing here?”
“Happy early birthday,” she continued to smile. 
“Mo just saved your life.”  Liz's smile exposed a perfect pair of fangs. 
Hunter, breathless, arrived from the darkness.  He rushed to Donna’s side.  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 
Mo snickered. “Yeah, freak monster. She's fine. We somehow managed without your assistance.” Hunter glared at Mo then helped Donna up and escorted her inside. Everybody else followed and gathered around the kitchen table. Donna’s shaky legs buckled as she fell in a chair.  Hunter brought her a glass of water. 
“For those of you who don't know,” Trent looked at Mo, then Donna, then back at Mo where his gaze lingered, “Vampire incineration happens when one dies from being impaled. It signals the Ultimate Death.”
“What's the Ultimate Death?” Mo asked.
“Exactly what it sounds like: Final. No chance at return.  That's the plight of the vampire. When we lose our battle with undead life, it's forever.” 
“So,” Mo said, “Stephen is dead then. Ultimately.”
Trent shook his head. “Things aren't always that simple in the dark realms.”
“Of course not.” Mo rolled her eyes.
“Incineration,” Dante said, “is the result of a vampire dying. It's also the result of a vampire being called back by his or her master.”
“Master?” Both Mo and Donna asked in unison.
“Some vampires, just like some mortals, sell their soul for a higher cause,” Trent said.
“Or at least what they consider to be one,” Dante added.
“The whole soul black-market thing,” Donna added. “But how could Stephen sell his soul when he doesn't even have one?” 
Trent looked at Mo as if she'd been the one to ask the question. “Stephen probably promised those girls he'd let them live if they sold him their souls.”
“He didn't though,” Samee mumbled sadly.
“But,” Hunter said, “If he tricked them into believing their lives would be spared, then he'd have a lot of soul capital to negotiate with.”
“So?” Mo sounded irritated. 
“So if he took those souls and offered them to Michael for something only Michael could give him -”
“Like what?” Mo folded her arms and pushed her chair away from the table so she could rock on the back legs. 
“World domination is a much sought-after prize,” Dante stated firmly. “It's been used to buy souls for eons, love.”
“Is that what happened?” Donna asked, horrified. “Stephen took the souls from those poor girls and traded them for world domination?”
“It's a distinct possibility,” Dante said. “We just don't know for sure.”
Liz spoke up. “That's why it's unfortunate that I wasn't able to look in Stephen's eyes before the combustion.” 
“We don't get it,” Mo shook her head. “What would Stephen's eyes have to do with anything?”
Trent explained. “The eyes of the vampire with an Underworld master become empty, black pits right before that vampire combusts. But there are precious few moments to see it since, as you've just witnessed, combustion happens quickly.”
“Why don't we look at this logically?” Liz paced the room. “What are the odds of Stephen's master calling him back at the exact moment Mo impaled him? Even if he was called back, it would've probably been too late. Stephen's heart was pierced. I heard it burst.”
“And I felt it,” Mo said. 
“Are you sure?” Hunter asked. He sat between Samee and Donna, an arm over each of them. 
Mo stared sharply at Hunter, her eyes narrowing. “Are you calling me an incompetent vampire killer? Because I can try again with another vampire just to make sure I got it right.” 
Trent grinned. “You're spunky.” Mo blushed. Donna didn't think she'd ever seen Mo blush. Then Mo giggled like a little girl.  Donna was certain she'd never heard Mo do that, even when she'd actually been a little girl. Trent winked at Mo then added boldly, “Let's see if Mo's really as bad an aim as you think she is, Hunter. Let her stake you.” 
Hunter hissed at Trent and Trent hissed back.
“Stop it!” Samee snapped. “I'm getting tired of you two having hissy fits. You're on the same side.” She crossed her arms and pouted.
Hunter grumbled. “If he wouldn't be so ungrateful -”
Trent growled. “If he wouldn't be so overbearing -”
Samee pushed back her chair. It made a loud scrape across the kitchen floor. She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I swear, sometimes I'd like to rip the shutters off every window in this house.” She whirled around and thudded up the stairs, muttering something about how could her roommates be older than dirt and simultaneously act like such babies. Her bedroom door slammed shut.  Several moments of awkward silence in the kitchen were finally interrupted by another giggle from Mo as she and Trent exchange coy glances. 
Dante cleared his throat. “Samee experienced a horrific thing yesterday. Is it too much to ask that we remain peaceful for a few days, out of respect for her?” He scooted back his chair too, gave Hunter and Trent harsh glares and then left to check on Samee. Several more moments of silence followed Dante's departure. Trent sat with his arms folded, shuffling in his chair. Hunter glowered at the floor, Liz stared off in space. Donna chewed on her nails and frowned at Mo. 
Hunter finally spoke. “I'm going to bed. Care to join me, Donna?” 
Donna shook her head. “Not just yet. I want to talk with Mo for a minute.” 
“Suit yourself.” He kissed her cheek, hissed one more time at Trent, scooted back his chair and left. 
“Is it always such a party around here?” Mo rolled her eyes then twinkled them in Trent's direction.
Donna sighed. “Liz, Trent. May I have a moment alone with Mo, please?” The two shifted looks.  Liz shrugged. 
“Sure, I'll make some phone calls and check on the club's activity.” 
“I'll work on the basement, since I don't go to bed in broad nighttime, unlike some vampires.” The last sentence was directed upstairs.
“Because you have nobody to go to bed with,” came a snarl from the landing. Trent made a mocking face then tromped downstairs. Mo's gaze followed him.
“I'd go to bed with that one,” she whispered and indicated toward the basement stairs. 
“Melissa Bently, stop talking like that.” Mo made a disgusted face because Donna had used her full name. Then she protested in that high-pitched voice Donna knew as her defensive one. 
“I was just kidding around.”
Donna stared starkly. “Aren't you already in a relationship with somebody? A mortal somebody? Somebody with whom you're going to have a baby?” 
Mo shrugged.  “I guess.” 
“Why all the puppy-dog eyes at the blood-sucker?” 
Mo rolled her eyes.  “I’m not making puppy-dog eyes.”
“I know you saved my life out there and I'm forever grateful. Maybe that's why I'm trying to understand what's going on here.” 
“It must be the pregnancy hormones.” Mo patted her belly, which did indeed look a bit bigger than it had the last time Donna had seen her. 
“Pregnancy hormones are making you hot for vampires?” 
I know how that is.  But she wasn’t about to admit it to Mo right now.
“I know, but...” Mo shook her head wildly, sending sprouts of hair into a wild frenzy.  She looked helplessly at Donna. “Trent is so alluring.”
“Shhhh. They have extra-sensitive hearing.” 
Mo's eyes widened and she whispered. “Do you think I'm under his vampire spell? You know, one of those mind control things? Because honestly Donna, vampires aren't usually my type.” 
Donna chuckled. “Your mind is just like the rest of you, uncontrollable.”
Mo kicked at the table leg and whined. “What should I do?”
“Take your mind back and set it to the task of becoming a family with Jamie and the baby.” 
Mo grimaced. “Do you have to put it that way?”
“What way?”
“Calling it a task.” Mo shuddered. “That just sounds so...task-like.”
“It's how things go, Mo. You grow up, get married and have a normal life with a normal family.” 
Mo scoffed.  “As if that’s what you’re planning to do with the damned blood-sucker - have a normal life.  I’ve got news for you, Donna.  It’s never going to happen.” 
It was like a punch in the gut.  Mo’s right.  Things will never be normal.  Donna shoved away that thought.  
“Just stop peeling Trent with your eyes,” she implored.  “He's not a banana.”  In the living room, Liz chatted on her phone. It caught Donna’s attention.  “How's Liz involved in this?  Does she work for the Organization?”
Mo scrunched up her nose. “Organization? Like the mob? Hardly. Liz works with me at the newspaper. She's also half owner of The Dark Side.” 
“I thought she was a bartender there.”
“She is, but she's an owner too. Her fiancé, Bruce, owns the other half.” 
The boulder and the superhero own a teen nightclub together.  Why am I not surprised?
Liz strolled back to the kitchen. “I heard my name. Is it okay for me to come back in?”
“Yeah,” Mo sounded relieved. 
“Bruce says the club's making bank tonight.” That made Liz smile. 
Mo pulled a lipstick tube from her back pocket and applied some.  Then she fluffed the spikes in her hair and peered toward the basement. 
“I was about to tell Donna how you and I teamed up,” she said.
Liz dragged a chair back with her foot then plopped down hard in it, crossing her arms and splaying her long, thin legs. Donna wondered if these were habits she'd picked up working at a bar. 
“It all started,” Liz began, “when Mo brought this book on vampire history in to work and started obsessing on things undead.”
“I didn't obsess,” Mo protested. 
Liz's gaze met Donna's and they laughed. 
“I just take a keen reporter's interest,” Mo explained.
“A keen reporter's interest with a side of obsession,” Liz said to Mo then she turned back to Donna.  “So there was Mo, searching out vampire information on the internet and in books. I must admit, she started to connect the dots with amazing accuracy.  It didn't take her long to have just enough knowledge to be a danger to herself.” 
Donna nodded. “Mo's like that sometimes.”
Liz snickered. “She doesn't know when to stop.”
“It's almost uncanny how she can find a doorway to trouble where others would just see a brick wall,” Donna said.
“Or,” Liz added, “how she'll fall in the rabbit hole where others would simply tiptoe around it.”  Donna and Liz chuckled. 
“Hey,” Mo protested. “I'm in the room, you know.”
Donna reached over and hugged Mo. “It's okay. We love you just the way you are.”
“And besides,” Liz shrugged. “We're not laughing at you, we're laughing with you.”
“Except I'm not laughing.” But then Mo chuckled. 
“Anyway,” Liz went on, “Mo used amazing skills of deduction to come to a conclusion that most people would dismiss as crazy.” Liz smiled at her. “Mo didn't give up when things got creepy, like most mortals do. Most mortals say, 'nobody will ever believe me,' or 'the whole world will think I'm crazy.' Mo didn't care who thought what. She plowed right through and got her facts straight. Well, most of them. She even pulled me aside a few days ago and confided that she thought the city was being run by a vampire. She also said she intended to prove it.” 
“I knew I was right,” Mo piped in, then added with a snort, “so much for obsession.”
“But here's the problem,” Liz said.  “If Mo kept on her course, two things were guaranteed to happen. First, Mo would wreck her journalistic reputation. Nobody reputable in journalism gives vampire hunters any clout. Second, Mayor St. James could've put a hit out on her.” Liz studied Mo's face for a moment. “In fact, he still might put out that hit, especially now that you've done in Stephen.  The mayor has substantial political clout.”
Mo jumped in without considering the depth of Liz's words. “So that's when Liz showed me her fangs, which also explained her weird work hours.” Mo chuckled. “Isn't that great, Donna? We finally get to have a girl vampire on our side.”
Donna sat back and crossed her arms. “How did any of this lead to you guys being here tonight?”
“Mo was convinced that part of what your mom said was true,” Liz explained. “She was worried about Hunter's temper, having experienced its effects first hand.”
“I don't like your blood-sucker,” Mo charged in. “And I don't mind saying so.”
Liz sighed. “You might as well face it, Donna. Hunter doesn't make a particularly good first impression.”
Mo scoffed. “Nor does he make a particularly good second, third, or fourth impression.”
“Mo insisted she come here tonight and spy -”
“- through the windows, which in hindsight was a bad idea,” Mo indicated toward the shuttered windows, “Because Freakenstein has everything in lock down.”
“It's a vampire thing,” Liz said gently. “Not so much a Freakenstein one. That's even true for me and I'm dark skinned.”
“More pigment means longer sun exposure times?” Mo asked.
Liz winked. “I can withstand the sun's rays far longer than any of the guys in this house.” 
“I knew it.” Mo enthusiastically pounded her fist on the table. “You're better than them.”
“How long?” Donna asked.
“How long, what?” Mo tilted her head at Donna.
Liz answered. “I've experienced the sun for almost three minutes without protection. Of course, my eyes were shaded and I didn't dare remain any longer. My skin had started to tingle, which is the first symptom of dust piling.”
“Dust piling,” Mo chuckled. When she realized Liz was serious, Mo sucked in her breath and shut her mouth. 
“I can actually be outside and drive short distances in broad daylight, so long as the windows are up and when I get to my destination, I run inside quickly.”
“Like at work,” Mo said.
Liz nodded. “With sun protection pills, I've been out in the midday sun for over ten minutes. But it's not lollipops and sugarplums. Those pills are expensive and even with them a vampire is weak in the daylight. Weaker than a mortal.  Just remaining upright can become a chore.”
Mo looked in Donna's direction. “Wow, Donna. You're a sun worshiper. How's that going to work out between you and blood-sucker?” Donna gave her a hard look. She had no idea how it would work out.
Or on which side of the family fence Hunter and my baby's sun sensitivity will fall.
Liz cleared her throat. “Mo intended to spy on Hunter. Luckily, she told me her plans and I tagged along. I had a feeling that Mo alone in vampire territory as an unarmed mortal wouldn't bode well for her. I gave her the stake -”
“- And she told me not to lose it unless it was straight in a vampire's heart.” 
“As it turns out, my feeling was spot on. I was just wrong about who the intended victim was.” Liz raised an eyebrow toward Donna.
“Thank you,” Donna told her. “And thank you, Mo.  You both saved my life.”
Mo shrugged. “Your blood-sucker's not the only one who can keep you alive.” 
Dante quietly came downstairs and leaned against the doorway. Donna looked up. 
“How's Samee doing?” she asked. 
“She's well.” Then Dante sighed. “Upon occasion, Hunter and Trent do not enjoy the same ideas on things. When that happens, it can get ugly for all of us.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mo chuckled. “It's entertaining for some of us.”
Dante observed Mo, his expression amused. “You're going to be excellent at whatever you do with your life, love.”
“Thanks,” Mo grinned proudly. 
Dante turned toward the back door. “Good night, loves. I'm going for my walk. It's that time of year when the dead and the living co-mingle amidst much celebration.” He winked and then was gone.
Liz spoke first. “Don't you guys just want to pant and drool when he says 'love'?” 
Donna grinned. “Yeah.”
“You both need your eyes checked. The one downstairs is hotter.” 
“And you'll stay out of that particular hot kitchen,” Donna pointed a warning finger.
Mo rolled her eyes then turned to Liz. “Hey Liz, Bruce isn't a vampire, is he?” 
Liz shook her head, which made her dangling feather earrings smack against her lovely, long throat.
“How are you two going to handle that kind of relationship?” Donna asked. “He'll age and you won't. What will you do?”
“I don't know,” she looked down. “Bruce wants me to Turn him. But...”
“But what?” Donna anxiously asked. 
“Forever is a long time to avoid the sun,” Liz looked hard at Donna.
Trent thudded up the basement stairs then stood in the doorway, grinning and scanning the room. “I was wondering which one of you lovely ladies might be willing to help me with a chore downstairs.” He turned to Mo, who looked desperately at Donna, who returned the look with one that could kill quicker than a stake through the heart.
“Um,” Mo muttered, “I'd love to.  The problem is...” 
“The problem is,” Donna jumped in, “she has to go home.  It's past her bedtime. Unlike a vampire, she does need to sleep at night.” 
Trent's expression dropped. “I understand.” The two gaped at each other like puppy pals being taken to the pound in separate cages. Everybody said goodbye and Trent lingered in the front doorway, watching Liz and Mo walk to the Sentra, but he especially watched Mo. 
Donna tapped Trent's elbow. “I'll help you with whatever needs done in the basement.”
“It's okay,” he shrugged. “The job involves lifting, and you're pregnant.”
“So is Mo,” Donna replied.
His eyes widened. “She is?” 
“In fact, she's further along than I am.” He shook his head and muttered that he couldn't believe it. Donna smiled. “Now that you know she's pregnant, Mo's not quite as alluring, is she?” 
“No,” Trent's tone was dazed. “She's even more so. To me, nothing is more beautiful.” He watched the Sentra's tail lights until they disappeared from view. “I met Mo once before, in Spain. Her name was Consuela and I loved her instantly. She reminds me of Mara, but different. Mara was bold but she didn't speak her mind with quite the conviction Mo does.”
“I see,” Donna said gently. “But you do know Mo has James, Jamie. Whatever that guy's name is.”
Trent stuck out his tongue. “I saw that dumb blob at The Dark Side. He doesn't deserve such a charming creature as Mo.” 
“Mo's about as charming as a bull in ballerina slippers.”
Trent's eyes twinkled. “Indeed. She's a feisty goddess amongst mere mortal women. No offense to your mortalhood, of course.”
“Of course.”  It’s hopeless.  Donna shook her head, rubbed her temples and headed toward the stairs. “I'm going to bed now. Good night.”
“Before you go, I'd like to say something.  It's good to see Hunter with you again. He's a bear to be around when you're not. You make him much more manageable for the rest of us. He's lucky to have you.” Trent grinned and his eyes shined. “We all are.” 
“Thank you, Trent.”  
It pains me to admit, but I can see why Mo is so taken with Trent. 

chapter twenty three


Hunter was wide awake when Donna arrived upstairs, and deeply engrossed in a Spanish channel daytime drama rerun. 
“Would you like me fetch you a gallon of ice cream to go with your soap opera?” Donna pointed to the TV.  
“The cable just got installed a few days ago and this is my first real chance to check out the new channels, and...”
“Don't bother explaining,” she giggled. “You like soaps, I like 70s cartoons. We all have our vices.”
He grinned crookedly. “I don't understand why, but I like these stupid shows, in every language imaginable. They're addictive.” He pointed to the TV. “For instance, that guy right there is in love with the woman in the background wearing the blue dress. And she's having an affair with the brother of the guy who's in love with her. And the brother is involved in an embezzling scheme that's threatening to get everybody on board the boat, but he doesn't know a damned thing about it. I can hardly wait to find out who does what to whom next.” 
“Hunter?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He clicked off the TV.  They curled around each other and made love. Then Donna snuggled in his arms - dozing in that space between conscious and asleep. She stayed that way and lost track of time until the TV clicked back on. 
“What are you doing?” she yawned. 
“I can't sleep,” Hunter's tone was restless and his jaw clenched. Donna didn't need to be a vampire to know why. 
“You should go find out what happened to Stephen,” she said softly. “I'll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” 
She nodded.  Hunter was up and dressed within seconds.
“I wish I could do that,” Donna exclaimed. 
“I wish you could too,” Hunter laughed. “If you find a way for a mortal to achieve it, please share it with Samee.” He leaned down and kissed Donna. “I love you so much I can hardly stand it. Did you know that?”
She grinned. “I had no idea.” 
“I'll see you soon, sweetheart.” Hunter turned to leave.
“Before you go,” Donna sat up and chewed on her thumb nail. “I want to ask you about something.”
“Okay,” he turned to her.
“Why didn't you tell me about the Prophecy?” She leaned against the headboard. 
“Who told you about it?”
She didn't want to point fingers at Trent and get another fight going between those two, so she shrugged. “A couple of old vampire restaurant owners.”
“The Giovannis are jabber-mouths.”
“Be that as it may, why didn't you tell me our baby could be some kind of supernatural Prophecy fulfiller?”
“Supernatural?” Hunter stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “There is nothing supernatural about the Prophecy. It simply is ordained by the gods. And anyway, I was just wondering how to tell you about the Prophecy’s words. But as it turns out, there's no need to worry. The child spoken of is clearly a boy.”
Donna's eyebrow went up. “Well, there's about a fifty-fifty chance our child will fit that position.”
Hunter shook his head. “Our child is female.”
“How do you know that?” 
“Dante told me,” he said simply.
Donna gasped. “Why didn't you tell me?” 
“There's been no time. We just discussed it a few hours ago. I didn't even know if you'd want to know -”
“Of course I want to know.” She also wanted to be furious at Hunter for trying to hide yet another truth, but she couldn't help herself. She smiled. “Our baby's a little girl.” 
He leaned down and kissed Donna's forehead. “A little girl who will grow up to be just as beautiful as her mother, and when I get home we can sit in bed and argue about her name.” 
“Why would we argue about it?”
Hunter winked. “You haven't heard my choices yet.”
“If you're going to choose something like Gertrude or Prudence, then I don't want to hear your choices.” She threw a pillow at him.
He threw it back. “I'll be home before you wake up. And I'm partial to Ernesta.” Hunter laughed, blew Donna a kiss then left. She lay in bed in her new home, filled with new experiences and new people.  Yet before long, she felt lonely. And hungry. 
She padded downstairs, making as little noise as possible on those creaky stairs in the moth ball stairwell. She flipped on the kitchen light and a voice behind her spoke her name.  She jumped. 
“It's only I, love.” Dante was seated at the table, sipping tea.
“You scared me.” Donna's hand went to her heart. “Why are you drinking tea when vampires don’t care about such things?  And how come you’re sitting in the dark?”
“I'm a vampire, love. Our species does tend to enjoy the dark.” Dante's eyes danced like poetry. “As for the tea, it’s more of a peaceful old habit than an exercise in refreshment.  I assume you came downstairs for either a beverage or a snack, or perhaps both. Would you like me to retrieve the items of your fancy?”
“I don't know what my fancy is,” she admitted. “I just know I'm hungry. Or the baby is, but neither of us knows what for.”
Dante surveyed Donna from her head to her goddess toes. “Might I suggest a cup of hot chocolate?”
“You might,” Donna nodded. “Because it sounds perfect.”
“How about some chocolate chip cookies to go with it?” He surveyed her closer. “And would you like the cookies served crushed, in a bowl with sliced banana, drenched in milk and drizzled with honey?”
Donna giggled. “For a healer, you sure have some interesting food suggestions.”  But the truth was, Dad used to fix her hot chocolate and cookies after a nightmare.  As for the rest of the combination, Donna never would have considered it.  Since Dante had made it sound so scrumptious though, how could she resist? He whipped up the snack and set it before her eyes in double time. 
Donna shook her head in disbelief. “Do you think I'll ever get used to the quirks of living around vampires?”
“You always have before, love.”
Donna took a sip of hot chocolate. “It used to be impossible that Hunter and I could get pregnant, right?”
“Indeed.”
“So if our baby isn't the one mentioned in the Prophecy, why did we get pregnant against the odds?”
Dante considered it. “I don't know.  There's clearly something special about your child.”
“What do you think it is?” she asked excitedly.
Dante shifted in his seat and rubbed his chin. “Love, that may very well be up to her.”
Donna liked that answer and she liked how Dante had a way of making things seem better, like Dad. Or at least like Dad used to. She took a sip of silky, hot chocolate. It felt divine against her tongue.
“I think it needs something…” she contemplated.
“Pepper,” Dante replied.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”

Dante got the pepper, sprinkled some in Donna’s mug.  Then they sipped in silence; Donna with her hot chocolate and Dante enjoying his Earl Grey. She quickly consumed the bowlful of cookies and bananas so Dante made her another. When he handed it to her, she spoke.
“Is Stephen really dead?”
Dante observed her thoughtfully. “I get no definitive feeling either way, love. It's quite unusual.”
“How badly do you suppose Stephen's death will hurt Hunter?” 
“I don't know.” Dante put an arm around her. “They've been enemies for thousands of years, but they've been brothers even longer.” Donna slurped the last of her hot chocolate and Dante moved aside to look at the clock. “It's midnight. Happy twenty-first birthday, love.” 
She grinned sadly. “I've looked forward to this moment all year.  Why does it feel like a letdown?”
“You've lived a mortal lifetime's worth in the past week, love. In some ways, you're much older today than you were yesterday.” 
How did he have such a way with words? 
The hot chocolate started to work its magic. Donna yawned. 
“Sleep now, love. You and your baby are safe.” 
“Thank you,” she mumbled.  Her eyelids became heavy so Dante scooped her up in his sea-breezy arms and carried her upstairs. Donna was sound asleep before her head hit the pillow.

chapter twenty four


Donna woke up groggy and to the sounds of furniture being dragged across the floor downstairs. The noise crept inside her conscious, nudging her to alertness against her will. She groaned and looked at the clock. Noon. 
Already? Will I ever get over this ridiculous exhaustion?
“Hunter?” He was not next to her, even though before he’d left the night before, he'd promised he would be. 
Probably downstairs already, which is too bad, because I sure feel like having a birthday romp. 
Donna grabbed her toothbrush, shampoo, a change of clothes, and then she plodded to the bathroom. Chatter echoed up the stairwell from below.  She paid little mind to it. All she wanted was a nice, cool shower and she got it because the hot water was all gone. 
After the frigid shower, Donna stood naked and shivering in front of the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, surveying her shape. 
Is my belly already bigger? 
She touched her belly button. It felt different. And…was there a stretch mark already? Donna squinted and looked closer. No, it couldn't be, but it certainly seemed like it was.
After a bout of morning sickness and a craving for cod liver oil with sponge cake so intense it almost made her faint from desire, Donna descended the stairs feeling like a tidal wave was pushing her. 
Why does everything feel off-balance? 
She turned the corner toward the kitchen.
“Surprise!”
A chorus of Happy Birthday came from the living room.  Donna turned and gawked toward it.  The swords, knives, and guns were gone and in their place - balloons, crepe paper and gift boxes. And people...the living room was full of them, living and undead. Mo crashed out from the crowd, ran up and wrapped her arms around Donna. 
“Happy twenty-first birthday, best friend!”  Then Mo whispered in her loud way.  “We hid the weapons so they wouldn't scare the uninitiated mortals.”
Donna scanned the room. Dante, Trent, Samee. Mr. and Mrs. Giovanni. Liz and Bruce. Jill, Dad, and Jamie, James...whatever. It turned out Mo had conspired the surprise and instructed all vampires to arrive before sun up to help set up everything.  Mo had spent since 5:00 am directing everybody on the correct ways to inflate helium balloons and hang crepe paper. She even told the Giovannis which flavor cake to bake. Mrs. Giovanni tried to prepare a bacon and rye cake, which Donna admitted would've been mouthwateringly delicious, but Mo had insisted on white crème with lemon frosting.  It tasted good too, and anyway, the mortals liked it better. 
Donna smiled, chatted and opened her gifts.  She pretended to be excited about the new clothes and the gift certificate to the local sports bar, but all she really wanted for her birthday was her Eternal Partner, who was conspicuously missing from it. 
The party started to wind down an hour before dusk. Mr. Giovanni clanked dishes in the kitchen sink while Trent balled up gift wrap and shoved it in a plastic trash sack. Donna found Dante in the hallway talking with Samee. 
“Where's Hunter?” Donna demanded.
“I wish I knew, love.” Dante's expression gave away his feelings. 
He’s worried, too. 
So was Samee, whose mouth was tight in concern. 
“He's not answering his phone or any of the texts I've sent,” Samee said. 
Dante explained that such behavior from a vampire with Hunter's job was not unusual, but they all knew it was not right for him to miss Donna's party.
Dad strolled up and kissed Donna's forehead. “This is a wonderful party, honey. Your elusive boyfriend has made great strides in remodeling this old place.”  Trent overheard Dad’s comment and beamed.
“This guy,” Donna motioned for Trent to come over, “did the work. His name is Trent.”
“Well Trent, your talent is superb. Old houses are a real hassle to restore and you're doing an excellent job with this one.” Dad glanced back to Donna as if to say he understood who had done the excellent job on the McCormick house, too.
“Thank you, sir.” Trent smiled. Then he noticed Jamie going upstairs to the bathroom and excused himself to move toward Mo.  
Dad indicated toward the kitchen. “I'm surprised to see the Giovannis here.” 
What was Donna supposed to say? That they were her original parents from many centuries ago and wouldn't have missed her twenty-first birthday for anything in the world, unlike Mom? 
“Mo did it. I mean, she invited them,” Donna quickly said. “I told her the Giovannis are our family friends, so she invited them.”
Dad nodded. “I'm impressed. Your friend Mo is quite considerate. Her mother must have raised her right.” He glanced toward the end of the hallway toward Jill, whose head tilted back when she laughed at something her daughter said. 
“Ah, Mister McCormick,” Mrs. Giovanni waddled toward Dad and Donna, her fleshy arms open wide.  
Dad turned to accept her embrace. “What a delight it's been to have you here today.”
“Oh, now you stop flirting with me, Mister McCormick.” She turned to Donna. “I am so very proud of you, Miss.” She touched Donna's cheek with her calloused fingers. They were rough, so unlike her mother's perfectly manicured ones. Yet Mrs. Giovanni's touch felt smoother than Mom's ever had. 
Mo trotted up beside them and jabbed Donna in the ribs. Trent was right next to her.
“Hey, where's your blood-sucker?” she asked.
“Blood-sucker?” Dad frowned.
“Mister McCormick,” Mrs. Giovanni diverted. “Can you smell that?” She inhaled sharply.  “It is tomato and basil salad prepared fresh, by my husband. Won't you come try a bite?” She placed an arm around Dad's shoulder and ushered him toward the kitchen then shot daggers back at Mo. 
“Hey, Mo,” Jamie tromped downstairs. “Come outside with me for a minute so I can get some air.” 
“That means he wants to get high,” Mo rolled her eyes at Donna, who stared in horror.
“You aren't smoking pot while pregnant?”
“Of course not, dodo. Do you think I'm an idiot? I didn't even know he smoked the stuff until a week ago.  I'm thinking this relationship is going to end up in child support payments and shared custody.” She snorted in derision and then followed Jamie outside. Trent indicated toward them and grinned at Donna.
“I'll be with that delightful creature someday soon,” he said. 
“Do you really think she'll leave a mortal for you?”
“I think she'll leave the mortal for herself. Then she'll come to me.” 


Shortly before dusk, Dad and Jill found Mo and Donna in the kitchen. They asked about Hunter again.  
“He’s at work,” Mo abruptly explained.
“Oh?” Dad sounded curious. “I thought Hunter was independently wealthy.”
“He is wealthy…because he works,” Mo improvised.  “You know - no free lunch, all work and no play, blah blah blah and all of that.”
“Yes, all of that,” Dad repeated.  “So where does Hunter work?”
“At the hospital,” Mo offered. “He's a brain surgeon.” 
“I see,” Dad replied, but it was obvious he didn't. So Dad and Jill exchanged glances, then phone numbers.  They left together, chatting all the way to their cars and occasionally turning back to glance at their offspring.
“That's interesting,” Mo folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at them. 
“What’s interesting?” Donna bit her finger nails. 
“Your dad and my mom.” Mo tilted her head. “They seem to be getting along pretty damned well. I caught them smiling at each other while you were opening your presents.”
“Oh, stop it,” Donna pushed Mo. “Can't adults hang out without you finding something sinister about it?”  
Jill giggled at something Dad said. He held open her car door while she got in.  Mo raised an eyebrow.  
“Sinister isn't the word I'd choose to describe it,” she said.
chapter twenty five


Liz left just before dark, rushing to her car to avoid the last rays of sunlight. 
“I really gotta get to work,” she explained. “Tonight's our karaoke finals. Everybody's going to be there.” She hugged Donna and assured her not to worry about Hunter, that vampires were somewhat habitual about taking off like this and not returning for days. 
“But now he's a father-to-be,” Donna replied. “He should at least call.” 
“Men,” Liz scoffed. “Not exactly the most thoughtful gender, regardless of species.” She wished Donna Happy Birthday, got in her car and left. A few moments later, the Giovannis emerged from the house, kissed Donna warmly and assured her of Hunter's safety just as Liz had.  Then they left, too. Donna stood on the front porch with her arms folded.  When the sun finally dipped below the trees, she couldn't stand the sting of her absentee Eternal Partner any longer. She tromped down the steps.  
“Where are you going?” Mo asked.
“For a walk. I can't stand being stuck in here, not knowing what's happened to Hunter.”
“It's getting dark. You shouldn't go out.”
“Stephen's dead. You killed him, remember?”
“Stephen's not the only evil force out there.” Mo narrowed her eyes. “If you insist on going anyway, which, by that determined look on your face I assume you do, then I'm going with you.” 
“Fine.  If you want to tag along and be bored out of your mind, be my guest. It's the least I can do for the person who saved my life.”
“Now you're sounding more reasonable,” Mo trotted up behind Donna, wearing the satisfied look of a pigheaded best friend who was used to getting her way. 
Something by the garage caught Donna's attention - the stake she'd dropped the night before. She picked it up. It felt warm, probably from the sun's heat beating down on it all day. 
She held it up for Mo to see. “Will you feel better if I take this?”
“Sure,” Mo shrugged. “But I'm still not leaving your side.”
The front door opened. “Hey, Mo,” Jamie yelled. “Can you come here for a second?” 
Mo snarled between clenched teeth. “Of course, when I want to do something without him, he has a need.” She eyed Donna fiercely. “Don't you dare go anywhere without me.” She turned back to the house. 
I hope Mo will have more patience with the kid than she does with its father. 
Donna leaned against the silver Sentra, which now had four, fully-inflated tires, and surveyed Jamie's car closely for the first time. It was a white heap with no back window, just plastic duct taped over the hole where a window should be. Also, empty cigarette packs were scattered on the floor and the ashtray was full.  
Trent stuck his head out through the front doorway and noted the relative darkness.  Satisfied that it was indeed dark enough, he strolled outside, stretching and inhaling a big breath of crisp, evening air. 
“Ahhhhhhh,” he exclaimed and then examined Jamie's car, raised an eyebrow and made a scoffing sound. “She's way too good for that.”
“She's pregnant with his baby.”
Trent shrugged. “That's no reason to stay with him.” 
“You're right,” Donna sighed, glanced down at the stake and rolled it between her fingers. The silver glinted in the early evening shade. She had to admit, the crazy guy with the gun shop sure did know how to make some amazing-looking weapons.
“One of Howie's,” Trent indicated toward the stake.  
“It was out here all day. I just found it.”
Trent snickered. “Howie would be pissed if he knew one of his precious tools got neglected in broad daylight like that.” 
“Who cares what that asshole thinks,” Donna made a disgusted face. “But it retains a lot of heat, it’s still warm from the sun.” She held out the stake for Trent to touch, but instead of touching it, he backed away, visibly distressed. 
“Stakes aren't really my thing, so I'll just take your word for it.  Can you tell me something, though?  How warm is it? I mean, exactly?”
Donna shrugged. “Pretty warm. In fact, I didn't know silver conducted that much heat.” 
“So, it’s warmer than it should be, even for lying in the sun all day.”  Trent swallowed hard enough for Donna to see his Adam's apple shift. 
“Yes.  I'm sorry, I'll put it away.”
Trent shook his head. “It's not that. The problem is, if that stake's warm, then its target is nearby.”
“I don't understand.”
“Howie's stakes are made for specific people. The stake reacts.”
“Reacts?
“It heats up as the intended target approaches.” 
“Oh…”  Donna stared at Trent, her eyes widening. 
“It's not me,” Trent took a step back. “If it was, the thing would be almost too hot to handle right now.”
“It's just pretty warm,” Donna explained. “Not hot.”
“Who gave you that stake?”
“The Giovannis,” she said. “They said it was made for Stephen, but Stephen's dead.” She looked around then she looked at Trent, who looked around too.  He looked back at her, concerned. Donna shuddered. “Stephen is dead, isn't he?”
“When the intended victim perishes, the stake goes cold.” Trent grimaced. “So maybe Stephen's not dead.” He glanced toward the woods and muttered, “Unless...”
“Unless what?” Donna's voice hinted at her mounting panic.
“I don't even dare say it,” Trent swallowed hard.
“Damn it, Trent. My Eternal Partner is missing. So say it.”
A chilly breeze whipped through the trees and caught Trent’s attention.  He scanned the woods behind the house. “What if Howie screwed up?” 
“Do you have his phone number?”
Trent shook his head vigorously.  “You shouldn’t call Howie.”
“I want to find out if he made a mistake.”
“Let me give you some advice,” Trent said sternly. “You don't want to accuse Howie of making a mistake.”
“If Stephen's still out there, I'll do whatever I need to.” Donna picked at her index finger nail. “Do you have the asshole's number, or not?”
Trent nodded. “But -”
“Give it to me.” 
“Okay, but I'm warning you. This is a bad idea.” 
Trent opened his phone and recited the number, which Donna punched in her phone. It rang four times before a guy with a gruff voice answered. 
“What?”
“Is this Howie?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m looking for Howie.”
“And I'm looking for peace and quiet. We're both shit out of luck.”
“I take it you're him.” 
“I take it you're too stupid to take a hint.” 
I was right.  He's an asshole. 
“I'm Donna. And I need to know about one of your stakes.”
“I need to know why a stupid human has the gall to call me.” He growled loud enough to shake the phone in Donna's hand.
“Stephen's dead.  So why is the stake you made for him still warm?”
Howie scoffed. “Stephen's stake is cold. I feel it.”
“I'm holding it. It's warm.”
“Well then, stupid human, you're not holding the stake I made for Stephen.”
Donna wanted to choke the life out of the asshole. “Listen, mister, I'm holding the stake made for Stephen, the one you made for the Giovanni's, the one they gave to me.”
Howie growled at her. “I made two stakes that day.  You’re probably holding the one I made for Liz.”
“Then you made the mistake. You swapped Liz's stake with mine.”
“I don't make mistakes,” the asshole snapped.
“Well, you did this time,” Donna snapped back. “Who was the intended target of the other stake?”
“I don't make mistakes and if you ever bother me again, stupid human, I'll give your Warrior back his money just so I can enjoy the thrill of killing you with my own bare hands.” The phone went dead. 
“What an asshole,” Donna scowled. “I hope I never lay eyes on him.”
Trent smirked, “If Hunter has anything to do with it you won't.”
She searched Trent's eyes. “Not that I want to deflate my best friend's sense of her inborn vampire-killing talents, but I do believe the stake Mo used on Stephen was the stake intended for Stephen. This one's made for a different vampire.” She shook the stake and looked nervously at the house. “Other than you, there's only one vampire nearby.” 
Trent eyed the house suspiciously. “No,” he said slowly.  “It can't be.” 
“It must be.”
“Dante's been on our side for so long.” 
“Maybe he's changed sides.” Donna peered at Trent. “Can vampires read the minds of other vampires?”
Trent shook his head. “No.  But then again, there are other ways to find out what's on somebody's mind. Want me to go take a stab at Dante?” He chuckled, but it was strained. 
“Please. I need to know what's happened to Hunter.  If Dante's a spy, he might be hiding that information.”
“Okay, I'll be right back.” Trent darted to the house just as Mo and Jamie strolled out. Jamie headed to his car. Mo turned to look at Trent, who had stopped and turned around to watch her. The two waved at each other. A few minutes later, Jamie left after pecking Mo on the cheek and without saying Happy Birthday or goodbye or even acknowledging Donna. 
“He looks mad,” Donna noted.
“He thinks something's going on between me and Trent.”  Mo rolled her eyes.
“Well, he's right.  I think you're about to become a single mom, Mo.”
“I know...” Mo looked at the ground.
“And a car that's not in the shop every other week will improve your odds of getting the kid to daycare on time.” 
“Trust me, I know.  I’m working on raising the money to fix my hunk of crap car.”
Donna examined Mo closely.  “Keep the Sentra.”
Mo’s eyes widened and she gasped.  “Are you serious?”
Donna nodded. “You saved my life. The least I can do is save you some car trouble.”
Mo hugged Donna, pulled her close, and planted a kiss in the middle of her forehead. “Thanks, Donna. You really are the greatest.”
“So are you, Mo.” 
“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”  Mo smiled smugly.  Then she frowned.  “Your mom's not going to hand over the Mustang keys quite so easily.  What will you drive?”
Donna considered the Ferrari and grinned. “I'll get by.”
“Sorry about the lipstick.” Mo indicated toward Donna's forehead and giggled. “You look like a Cyclops.” 
Donna flipped open her phone. “What's Liz's phone number? I have to ask her something about that stake she gave you.”
“Shhhhh.” Mo put a finger to her lips, whirled around and searched the yard with her widened eyes. “Did you hear that?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “It sounds like somebody's tromping through the trees right over there.” She pointed a few feet away to a birch grove.
“Mo, I think you're hearing things.”
“Come on, let's go.” She headed toward the grove. 
Donna glanced nervously toward the house. What’s taking Trent so long? 
“I really think we should hold off on this walk for a few more minutes,” she said.
“What are you talking about?  You're the one who wanted to go in the first place.”
The stake warmed in Donna's hand. Definitely not conducting heat from the sun. “Maybe...maybe we can wait for Trent. He can go with us.” 
Mo grinned at that idea and even agreed to it. “But really, Donna.  You’re acting strange.  What’s going on?” Before Donna had a chance to answer, a familiar figure jumped from behind a tree and held a knife at Mo’s chest. 
“I always hated you bitch,” Rochelle punched Mo in the face, knocking her off guard. She took up the knife and plunged it straight in Mo's heart. Mo's hand went to her chest.  She staggered back and slumped to the ground, her eyes wide with confusion. 
“Mo!” Donna screamed then was grabbed from behind and a knife held to her throat.
“You should've taken my advice about men, Donna McCormick.” Donna tried to wriggle free, but tiny Ms. Schmill was surprisingly strong. 
A tall, dark shadow with piercing red eyes plowed through the newly fallen night, hissing like a wild monster. Rochelle pulled the knife from Mo's chest and dashed into the woods. Hunter grasped Ms. Schmill's wrist and twisted until it snapped. She screamed then dropped the knife. Donna pulled away.  She looked at the stake in her hand. It had tripled in length and burned with such fierce heat that it almost singed her palm. 
“So this was built for you.” Donna lifted the stake.  It was just like Mrs. Giovanni promised.  The stake knew instinctively where to go. At the same moment it pierced Ms. Schmill's heart, Hunter's teeth pierced her neck. Ms. Schmill twitched and frothed, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She flailed and shrieked then slumped in Hunter's arms while he hungrily fed. Donna rushed to Mo and fell at her side. 
“Mo, please don't die. Please.” Tears blinded Donna and her throat tightened. Mo looked up and tried to smile.  Her voice was a whisper. 
“Best friends...” Her head dropped to the side and her eyes slowly closed. 
“No! Stay with me, Mo.  Mo, don't leave...the baby!” Donna placed her hands over the puncture in Mo's chest and tried to stop the bleeding. Her hands shook violently.
“Hunter!” Donna screamed. “She's dying. Please save her.” 
Hunter let go of Ms. Schmill and her body slumped to the ground. He wiped blood from his mouth, but it stuck to his fangs and chin. 
“It won't work, sweetheart.”
“Please! Try!”
“If it does work,” he warned, “she'll be Turned.”
“Do it!”
“Without giving her consent...”
“I'm giving mine!” Donna wailed. “Do it!”
Hunter shook his head.  Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and blood lingered on his chin. “Then her anger will be on your conscience, Donna. I'm warning you.”
“Do it, damn it!”
Hunter bit his forearm.  Blood oozed from the wound. He placed the bleeding arm over Mo's mouth. She twitched, squirmed, seized, and then moaned, gasped for air and twitched again. 
“You need to help me,” Hunter glanced at Donna. “I'm weakened already.  And the feeding -”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just keep her still.” 
“Okay, okay,” Donna said frantically.  She held Mo with everything she had and sobbed hysterically. Ms. Schmill's body burst into flames behind them, and within seconds was entirely consumed - just like Stephen had been. Donna didn't care. All she cared about was Mo. 
“She recently fed,” Hunter indicated toward the ash pile, “which has given me the blood I need to hopefully save Mo - if you can call being Turned saved.” 
He gave blood to Mo until he looked almost ready to pass out then he whispered something in her ear.  She lay in a limp heap on a bed of pine needles. It had grown quite dark so Donna could barely make out her expression, but she could tell Mo had stopped twitching and now wasn't moving at all.
“Hunter, it's not working.”
“Shhhh, give it another minute.”
A minute passed and nothing changed. That's when Donna broke out in loud, sorrowful crying. 
“Sweetheart,” Hunter said. “It's okay.”
“No,” she wailed. “It's not. Mo's gone and-”
“- and look at her.” 
Donna wiped her eyes. Mo stirred, moaned. Hunter pulled back, let her cough and then held a hand over her chest until she caught her breath. He carefully lifted Mo's lip and examined her teeth. 
“Well, I'll be damned,” he muttered.
“What?” Donna asked anxiously.
“It worked.” Hunter wiped blood from his mouth again.  He sat back, looking confused. 
“What worked?”
“The blood transfusion. It's bringing her back.”
“That's good, right?”
“Yeah,” he looked at Mo’s teeth again and shook his head. “But she's not Turning.”
“So?” Donna glanced from Hunter to Mo and back to Hunter. “What does that mean?”
“It means...” he ran his fingers through his hair. “It means there's a connection between Mo and me.” 
Donna shook her head.  “Connection?” 
“My connection to you is so strong that your body can't tell the difference between your blood and mine. But that girl and me? Our connection couldn't be further from each other.” 
Mo sputtered, heaved and then started to breathe more steadily. Donna took Mo's hand, kissed her forehead and told her everything was going to be okay. And by the look of things, it was. The hole in her chest sealed shut and the color came back to her face. 
“Could it be me?” Donna suggested.  “My connection to Mo is almost as strong as my connection to you. Haven't you said she and I have experienced every one of our lives together?”
“As best friends.” Then it landed on Hunter like lightning out of a clear blue sky. “Through my Eternal Partner, I must be connected to...that.” He pointed at Mo whose measured breathing sounded like music to Donna's ears. Hunter started to bite his finger nails.  Donna gently took his hands in hers. 
“It's okay,” she said softly. “If I can adjust to a life full of confusing creatures, then you can adjust to a life with this one.”
Hunter scoffed. “Confusing? Ha! I'd rather take on an army of demons.” He checked Mo's teeth one more time and muttered something about not believing it. 
“Mo's not that bad, you'll see.” Donna kissed his cheek.  “Where were you all day?” 
“I got caught in a trap on my way home this morning.”  He brushed sweat from his brow. “They used that minion, Rochelle, as bait.  But I didn't know at the time it was her. I just heard a woman screaming, so I ran toward it in the woods to see if I could help. A group of about fifteen minions grabbed me from behind just as the sunlight crossed above the trees, which instantly weakened me. They handcuffed me under a tree a few miles from here, smashed my phone, and then said they'd come back soon, dragging you behind them.” Hunter's jaw tightened. “It was Stephen's wish that if he should die, you die too…and that I should be witness to your murder.” 
“I'm sorry,” Donna whispered.
“I broke free, but sunlight was everywhere around me.  And of course, I didn’t have any sunscreen pills because I’d left in such a hurry last night.  I also figured I’d be home before daylight, on account of your party.  I was unprepared for the worst – something no Warrior should ever be.”  His expression darkened.  “I buried myself under leaves and waited for nightfall.  I couldn’t do anything to save either one of you.”
“Either one of us?”
“You and Mo.” 
“Mo came to our house early this morning, before daybreak. She planned a surprise party for me. She invited everybody – even Liz and the Giovannis.” 
Mo moaned.  She knows we’re talking about her.
“She unwittingly saved both your lives. By being early to our house, the minions missed her at hers. They couldn't grab either one of you in a house full of vampires, so they waited outside to make their move.” 
Donna watched Mo's breathing, which was now quite even. “Mo saved my life twice in less than twenty four hours.” 
“As obnoxious as she is, Mo's always been a good friend to you.” Hunter emphasized always. “And,” he continued in a tired voice, “I never did find anything out about Stephen, but I did learn that Michael's preparing to leave for the Middle East tonight. He does well in places of mortal conflict.  And without Stephen, he'll need all the mortal conflict he can get.” Hunter checked Mo's breathing one more time.  “We'll all be much safer when Michael leaves. Well, most of us. His minions won't be so lucky.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that when Michael leaves on his voyage, he'll require plenty of,” Hunter cleared his throat, “fuel.”
Donna gasped. “The mayor is going to Turn his minions?”
“Likely not,” Hunter said. 
“Oh, that's good.”
“He's going to kill them.”
Donna stopped stroking Mo's spiky hair and stared up at Hunter. “He's going to kill the entire police force?”
“Minions are high maintenance, sweetheart. Nobody in the Underworld world really wants more than they absolutely need for a given task.”
“Won't all the missing cops make people suspicious?”
“So what if it does? No mortal will ever suspect a centuries-old vampire.” Hunter winked. “This isn't the first time there's been a strange happening in the world that no mortal has ever figured out. And anyway, Michael would be wise to rid himself of minion stragglers. It's a path that leads right to him. The mortal equivalent is leaving a trail of online purchases everywhere you go.”
“So,” Donna said, “the minions are money, the mayor is leaving town and there's no sign of Stephen. Does that mean...?”
“It means Liz's assumption is correct.” Hunter's eyes lowered. “Stephen's dead.” 
She placed a hand on his arm. “I'm sorry.” 
Hunter scoffed. “You should be happy, sweetheart. You're finally safe after all these centuries.”
“Yeah, but,” she said gently, “he was still your brother...”
“He was a psychopathic monster and now he's gone.  I'm glad and you should be too.” With that, Hunter scooped up Mo, who, though still mostly unconscious, cussed up a storm at being shuffled around. Hunter turned toward the house.  Donna followed. 
“What's going to happen to Rochelle?”
“She was Ms. Schmill's minion.  Now that Ms. Schmill's gone, Rochelle will have to plead her case to the vampire who Turned Ms. Schmill.”
“Is that Mayor St. James?”
“It is.” Hunter groaned under Mo's weight.
“So…Rochelle might become energy for the mayor.”
“She might. Or, since the mayor has a thing for pretty females, he could spare her for...other things.” Hunter's expression was gloomy. “And now you've seen it. How I feed and how I take lives.” 
“I've also seen how you saved a life.” Donna indicated toward Mo, who made a grunting noise and swore under her breath. Donna hurried ahead to open the front door of the house. Mo stirred, opened her eyes and almost immediately realized whose arms she was in. 
“Put me down, blood-sucker!”
“Mo,” Donna said. “This blood-sucker just saved your life. Be nice to him.” Hunter carefully set down Mo. She immediately buckled in pain. 
“Why does my chest hurt? Am I having a heart attack?” She looked at Hunter like he was the one causing her pain then she looked down at her shirt and gasped. “There's blood all over me. Why is there blood all over me? What did you do to me, blood-sucker?” Hunter growled. Mo shrieked and ran inside the house yelling for Trent to save her from the blood-sucker. Hunter and Donna stood in the doorway, chuckling. In the light spilling out from the hallway, Hunter peered closely at Donna. He raised an eyebrow. “There's a lipstick kiss mark on your forehead. Do I even want to know how it got there?”
Donna indicated toward Mo's hysterical hollering. 
“Yeah, that figures.” He peered out over the front yard, pointed to a big grass patch. “See that?” 
Donna squinted frantically at the darkness. “No. What is it?”
“It's the perfect spot for a little girl’s swing set.” Hunter leaned down, put one hand on Donna's belly and the other against her right cheek. He kissed her feverishly then took her hand and led her to her new life in their white picket fenced house at the end of Autumn Road. 


Snow fell in clumps, but it wasn’t the cold that made Donna shiver…it was his breath on the back of her neck.
“Surprise, pet.”
She spun around to face him.  “Go away.”
“Everything’s so normal for you now, for the first time since little Sammy died.  It’s almost as if he never existed.”
Donna scowled.  “Leave my brother out of this.  And yes, everything is normal.”
“Too bad it won’t last.”  He laughed chillingly.  “There are more terrible surprises in store for you, pet.”
“You can’t hurt me anymore.”
“I don’t need to hurt you.  I have your little girl.”
“You can't have our baby.”
“We'll see about that,” he sneered.
“There’s nothing to see.  You're dead.”
“We'll see about that, too.”
The End

ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Bonnie Bernard is an alter ego of a feisty redhead who lives in the Rocky Mountains with her husband, a dog, and two cats – one of which owns everybody and everything in the house.  They share their old home with a ghost who likes to flip switches and throw power tools until he gets what he wants (bright, shiny objects to play with).  

Bonnie spends her time writing, hiking and having fun with her friends.  She enjoys planting obscure specimens in the backyard garden to see what pops up, and she’s fascinated by unseen forces and creepy-crawly things.  

Midnight Hunter is her first full-length fiction work.

Find out more at www.midnighthuntertrilogy.com

about the cover artist

Jerry Skinner specializes in custom art and design.  As a rebellious child, Jerry took pocket knives to his mother's favorite furniture and once tried to tattoo his little sister's forehead.  But instead of growing up to pursue his natural talent for evil, Jerry makes a living as a successful graphic designer.  Jerry’s work currently appears on t-shirts, newspapers, and flesh… no canvas is sacred – or safe.  
 Jerry lives in Idaho with his beautiful and long-suffering significant other, and two mean-as-hell wiener dogs. 
 To see more of his work, go here -
 http://www.eastidahoart.daportfolio.com/gallery/433228