Barely touching the popcorn, she searched cults, vampires, and cross-referenced them to All Saints College. She found that there was a surprising number of groups into the vampire/werewolf/paranormal thing. Some of the Web sites and chat rooms were obviously just for those with a passing interest, but others were more intense, as if whoever created the spaces actually believed demons walked among the living.

“Creepy,” she said to the cat as he tiptoed to his food. He scurried away at her voice. “Definitely creepy.” And Lucretia knew more about it than she was saying. “I guess we’d better stock up on garlic and crosses and silver bullets,” she said…“or wait, are the bullets for werewolves?” Houdini froze, tail switching. Then he ran across the floor, up to the counter, and out the window. “Something I said?” Kristi muttered as she walked to the counter and stretched.

She gazed out at the night, over the wall surrounding the campus to the buildings beyond. A few stars were visible through shifting clouds and the layer of light from the city. Again she had the disturbing sensation that she was being watched attentively, that unseen eyes were observing. Calculating. She lowered the blinds, leaving only enough space for the cat to return if he so deigned.

Returning to the computer, she wondered if Tara Atwater had experienced the same odd sensation that someone was surveying her from the cover of darkness.

It was time.

He had to dispose of the bodies.

As Kristi Bentz snapped the blinds shut, Vlad checked his watch. It was after one in the morning. Perfect timing. He’d been watching her for over two hours and wishing that she was next. He’d caught glimpses of her breasts as she’d pulled off her sweatshirt and unhooked her bra. The mirror over the fireplace was positioned so that if the bathroom door were ajar, he had a view of the shower stall, sink, and even a bit of the toilet. He’d observed Tara from this very spot as she’d spent so much time painstakingly applying makeup or cocking her head as she inserted her earrings, struggling with the backs. He’d held his breath as he’d watched her lift her arms. She’d been unaware that she was also moving her breasts, giving him a better view of those gorgeous, sexy globes and the vial of her blood hanging from a chain surrounding her neck, nestled in her cleavage. Where the hell had she hidden it?

You’ll never find it, he imagined her taunting him from the other side of the pale. Her tinkling laughter slid through his brain and his fists clenched so hard the skin over his fingers stretched taut.

“I’ll find it,” he muttered, then realized he was talking to no one, a ghost, the figment of his imagination.

Just like his mother.