Once they were downstairs again Mrs. Katcher checked her watch and attempted to usher everyone out. But Kristi hung back and asked about the basement.

“It was used by the staff, originally, of course, and I think it had some connecting tunnel or other way to access the carriage house, which is right next door and now houses the drama department. There was also egress to the stables and barns, but all of those passageways were deemed unsafe years ago, condemned by the parish, so they’ve been sealed. Today the basement is used for storage.” She held open the front door. “To be honest, I’ve never set foot downstairs. I don’t think anyone ever goes down there.”

Father Mathias does, Kristi thought. The priest and Georgia Clovis already knew Kristi had seen him appear through the basement door, and the fact that there were tunnels, condemned or not, beneath the building intrigued her. What if they still existed? What if Marnie Gage had gone downstairs and used them? But why?

Marilyn Katcher was nothing if not on a schedule. She managed to herd everyone outside and lock the gate behind them at five-thirty on the dot.

The wind had kicked up as they headed into the dark that had descended while they were inside. A shimmer of rain flashed by Kristi, and vapor lights glowed an eerie blue as she made her way to the student union. In the cafeteria-style restaurant she looked for some of the familiar faces in her English block of classes, but she didn’t see Trudie, Grace, Zena, or Ariel. She remembered then that Zena had said something about being cast in Father Mathias’s morality play.

Maybe she’d see the girl on stage.

She drank a decaf cappuccino and tried to call Lucretia again. After all, her ex-roommate was the one who’d originally mentioned the “cult” before her abrupt turnabout. But, as with everyone these days, it seemed her call was sent directly to voice mail.

Kristi didn’t leave a message. Lucretia was avoiding her.

Powering down her phone, Kristi headed toward the auditorium. If she got there a little early, maybe she could poke around a bit. All of the missing girls had attended Father Mathias’s morality plays, so there had to be a connection between them and the vampire cult, right?

It was as good a place to find answers as anywhere else.

Deep in her underground spa, standing naked in front of a tall mirror, Elizabeth surveyed herself carefully.

She was irritated.

Antsy.

Obviously in need of more.

More what? her mind taunted, for she disdained saying that she needed blood, the blood of others.

It made her feel weak, or like an addict, and that wasn’t the case at all. She was strong. Powerful. Vital. But, truth to tell, she did crave more….