grotesque images filled his mind.
Rage flowed through him, burning white-hot, searing him from the inside out. Anger fed the hunger within him, driving him to his feet, out of Marisa's apartment, and into the night.
Marisa woke with a start, her body drenched in perspiration, the sound of her own scream echoing in her ears. With a trembling hand, she switched on the bedside lamp, her gaze darting around the room as she drew in several deep breaths. Only a dream, only a dream... but it had seemed so real, and been so horrible.
Disjointed images flooded her mind... a woman walking along the beach under a full moon... a dark shadow swooping down on her like some monstrous bird of prey... the woman's cry of terror... bloodred eyes... sharp fangs piercing the fragile skin of the woman's throat....
Marisa shook her head to clear it. Knowing she'd never get back to sleep, she went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea. She was pouring herself a cup when she remembered Grigori.
Taking the cup with her, she went into the living room and turned on the light. The room was empty, the door was locked, the safety chain in place. The windows were closed.
She checked the spare bedroom, but he wasn't there, either.
Frowning, she returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa. The clock on the VCR showed it was almost three a.m.
"Some bodyguard," she muttered. Where had he gone, and why?
The answer burned itself into her mind, as vivid as the images of her nightmare.
He was a predator, and he had gone out to hunt the night.
Chapter Eight
He blended with the changing shadows of the night. His footsteps made no sound on the damp pavement. The ocean's salty tang filled his nostrils; he could taste it on the back of his tongue.
He smelled the woman before he saw her, and then he was there, walking beside her, smiling at her, mesmerizing her with his eyes.
With a low moan, she tilted her head back and offered him her throat. And he took it, his teeth sinking into her soft flesh, the sound of her scream blending with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
And he drank and drank and drank, until she was cold and empty, and he was warm, filled with the essence of her life force.
Chapter Nine
Marisa rose early after a sleepless night, glad that she didn't have to go to work. Last night, she had gone back to bed, only to toss and turn until dawn. Every time she closed her eyes, she had pictured Grigori bending over the woman who had haunted her nightmares, his fangs buried in the woman's neck as he drained her body of blood, of life.
Slipping on her robe, she went out to get the paper. Carrying it into the kitchen, she poured herself a cup of coffee, then spread the newspaper out on the table. The headlines screamed at her:
VAMPIRE KILLER STRIKES AGAIN
ELEVEN DEATHS NOW ATTRIBUTED TO SERIAL KILLER
Even before she read the story, she knew what it was going to say, knew that what she had dreamed hadn't been a nightmare at all. The woman's body had been found in a dumpster near Huntington Beach. There were two puncture wounds in her neck; she had been drained of blood. Time of death had been put at sometime between two and three a.m. No witness had come forward.
Marisa swallowed the nausea rising in her throat as she stared at the grainy black-and-white photo.
Needing something to occupy her mind, she dressed in a pair of sweats, and then turned her attention to cleaning the apartment. She put the soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on the CD player and set to work. She mopped the floors in the kitchen and the bathroom, dusted the furniture, vacuumed the rugs, changed the sheets on the bed, cleaned out the refrigerator.
And always, in the back of her mind, she could see the image of the woman she had dreamed about, the woman on the beach. What had the victim's last thoughts been before that monster sank his fangs into her neck? Had it hurt? Had she been terrified, or had the vampire clouded her mind with his power?
That monster... She rinsed her hands in the sink, and began replacing the refrigerator's contents. It was hard to picture Grigori as a monster. He was by far the most handsome man she had ever met. Tall and dark and mysterious. And