As the black curtain slid behind her eyes, she wondered faintly if there was a heaven. Hell? Would her soul rise and would she see her mother again? Jennifer Bentz, who had become little more than a memory as faded as the pictures in the old album she’d found in the attic. Would she actually see her again?

Her throat clogged with unshed tears as she thought of the mother she barely remembered while being held afloat by a psycho who wanted, of all things, her blood.

Dear God…maybe she should just let go.

Never had she felt so alone.

Jay, she thought weakly, and nearly cried with the thought of how much she loved him.

She was cold inside and the blackness that was teasing at her began pulling her under. All her life Kristi had been a fighter; maybe, finally, it was time to succumb.

Voices.

Jay heard the sound of voices.

He lifted his hand to Bentz, who nodded.

Nerves strung tight, crouched and ready for an attack within the darkness, they each took one side of the long tunnel that opened to a large, dark chamber. The room was empty except for half a dozen chairs placed in an arc around a raised platform, like a stage, upon which a worn velvet lounge rested. A hazy mist rose from the floor and a red light pulsed, almost throbbed, as it illuminated.

The voices emanated from an open doorway that led back to the tunnels.

Without a word they split, each taking one side of the next tunnel. There were offshoots, doorways that appeared locked. But at the end of the darkened hallway a room glowed in flickering light, as if lit by a hundred candles.

On silent feet, they headed toward the doorway, and the voices reached Jay’s ears.

“Her blood flows, Elizabeth…washing over you…it’s almost finished.”

Jay’s heart nearly stopped.

Jaw set, he exchanged glances with Bentz, nodded, and they burst into the room where Kristi lay, white as a sheet, in a tub that overflowed with thick red water and was occupied by another woman who was looking upward at a naked man who was about to step into the tub.

“Hands over your head!” Bentz roared.

Dr. Preston’s head snapped up.

The woman turned and Jay nearly faltered.

Althea Monroe? The woman he’d replaced? The professor who was supposed to be taking care of her frail, displaced mother? She was in a blood-filled tub with Kristi?

“On the floor!” Bentz ordered. “Now, cocksucker!”

“Vlad!” Althea screamed. “Kill them!”

As if she had complete control over him, Preston whirled, knife in hand. With incredible precision, he threw the knife at Jay and in the same motion, launched himself across the room, straight at Bentz. Hands outstretched, teeth bared, he leapt.

Jay ducked, the knife glancing off his shoulder, pain shooting down his arm.