Driftwood - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,13

what he did to me, but he didn't have to kill Maggie, too." She sobbed dryly into her hands, amazed that after all this time, she could still cry for Maggie. For herself. She felt Burke's hand on her shoulder, firm, as he pulled her across the seat and into his side.

"You're right, Serena. The beast doesn't have to kill to feed. You're not an animal like I am."

That thought shocked her—she had never thought of Burke as an animal. Not once. She was the bad one. He was—he was Burke.

She rested her head on his shoulder and watched as his reliable blue Ford ate up the miles.

Chapter Twelve

"Party town," she commented, staring at the throngs of people, the dozens of cars crammed taillight to headlight all along the streets.

"Yes," Burke said, illegally parking the truck. "It'll be like this until Labor Day."

"Provincetown. P-town?"

"There you go. You sound like a local."

"I'm not moving out here after—after. I can't stand the accent."

"Yah, sure, you betcha," he teased. "Because you don't have an annoying twangy Minnesota accent. You sound like an extra from Fargo."

"Shut up. I hate that movie. And can we focus, please?" She opened the door and hopped out of the truck, but he was already out and coming around the front. He took her hand in a firm grip and led her to the front door of Eat Me Raw.

"Wait! Shouldn't we… uh… be subtle?"

"We're here to kill the beast," he said. "It's best to get it done."

"So we'll just go in there and ask for him?"

"That was the plan, right?"

"What if he's not here?"

"If he's like most restaurant owners, he's here seven days a week, two-thirds of every day. Night, I mean. Good place to troll for victims. And here?" He gestured to the teeming crowds, the bars, the bright lights, the chaos. On a Tuesday night, no less.

"Who would notice a vampire here? Or a missing girl right away?"

"Nobody missed me," she admitted. "I didn't have any family, and nobody believed Maggie. The cops assumed I'd hit the road.

Maggie wouldn't let it go and they finally listed me as a Missing Person."

He scowled. "That sucks. I would have knocked over houses to find you. Strung men up by their balls."

Touched, she said, "That's so sweet, Burke."

He shoved open the door of the restaurant and walked in. She felt as though they were actually pressing against the noise from the bar. It was a typical New England raw bar—bright lights and dark wood and yakking tourists. Burke shouldered his way past them and walked up to the hostess stand.

"I'm sorry," the hostess practically screamed, "but there's a ninety-minute wait!"

"We'd like to see the owner!" Burke bellowed back. His voice climbed effortlessly over the din and several women (and not a few men) turned to look. "Tell him an old friend from Minnesota is here!"

"Scream a little louder, why don't you?" she muttered, knowing his werewolf hearing would pick it up. "I'm sure the cops will never be able to find a witness or ten."

As the hostess yelled into one of those cell phone/walkie-talkie things, he turned to her and replied, "We're here to kill a dead man. Tough case for the cops to solve. His birth certificate, assuming they can I.D. him when we finish, is probably just a bit out of date. Legally, he probably doesn't exist."

"He shouldn't exist," she muttered.

"I'm sorry!" the hostess yelled. "He's not in the bar right now!"

"She's lying," he said. "I can smell it."

"Well, let's—"

"It's all right, Annie," a stranger said, materializing beside the hostess. "No need to cover for me this time. I'll be glad to talk to these people."

Serena felt Burke jump, and knew why: no scent. She looked at Pete and was a little surprised. The boogeyman, the monster, the thing that haunted her dreams and stole her rest was a balding man in his early forties. Well. Who looked like he was in his early forties. What little hair he had left was going gray. His eyes were a light mud brown, and his nose was too small for his face. He was neatly dressed in a dark suit the color of his hair. He looked like a nurse shark: harmless, with teeth.

He smiled at her. She was startled to see he knew her at once. "Sorry about your friend."

She tried to speak. Couldn't. And she knew— knew—why he was smiling. He thought he was safe. His turf, his town. All these people. He thought they wouldn't touch