The Watcher

I can't wait to see if they'll do as I ask since Dan is out of sight. Once I make sure no one can see me, I race to catch up with him, vampire speed kicking in. I have no idea where we're going, but I do know I want to get there first. In seconds I've caught up with him. I drag him to a stop with a hand on his arm.

He whirls around, his face a mask of rage. "What do you think you're doing?"

But it's not the expression on his face or the anger in his voice that gives me pause. It's the gun. He's holding a gun. A Glock that's now pointed right at my chest.

I have to fight my first impulse, to wrench it out of his hand and hit him over the head with it. I understand now why he disappeared for a minute back at the house. He went to get this—a wicked-looking Glock.

I hold out my left hand, palm up, and increase the pressure on his arm with my right. I use my best calm voice to reason with him. “That gun isn't a good idea. You'd better give it to me."

He ignores my outstretched hand as completely as he ignores my reasonable voice. He tries to pull away, but I'm too strong. If he was thinking clearly, he'd probably wonder about that. Instead, he tries to fight me.

It's no contest. When I've got the gun and his face is contorted with the pain of my grasp, his expression crumbles. "What are you doing? We have to save Sylvie."

"We will. But we'll do it my way."

He stops fighting and I let go of his arm. To his credit, he doesn't grab his forearm and rub even though I know it must hurt like a son of a bitch.

I slip his gun into the waistband of my jeans, unclip my own. "How much farther?"

His eyes start to clear. "About half a mile. There's a wading pool at the end of this trail. At this time of year, there won't be anyone around. The water is too cold."

I nod. "Are you going to be all right?"

"When we get my daughter back." His voice is thick with worry.

"Then let's go."

We walk quickly and quietly along a dirt path that cushions our footfalls. The path winds through thick vegetation, screening our approach as effectively as it hides the location of our quarry. When I hear the spill of water into the rock basin, I know we're close.

I put a finger to my lips and whisper, "Where?"

Dan points ahead and to the right.

But before I can react, a taunting voice from that direction calls out. "Dan? Is that you? Come out, come out wherever you are. Sylvie needs you."

There's a whimper and a short cry, as if he's yanked Sylvie's hair or pinched her so that she'd do just that.

He called for Dan. No mention of anyone else. I pull Dan's head down so that I can whisper in his ear. "Go out. I'll be right behind you. Keep him talking."

Dan nods. His face has lost the sharpness of his anger. The only emotion stamped there now is concern.

"We'll get Sylvie out safely."

I'm not sure he hears me. He walks away, calling out, "Sylvie, honey, it's Dad. Where are you, baby?"

A small voice answers from about one hundred feet ahead. "Here. By the pool."

Her words are cut short and in their place, the male voice snaps out in contempt, "Yeah, Daddy. By the pool. Come join us. We wouldn't think of starting this party without you."

Dan gets several steps ahead before I veer off the path and let his voice guide me. My plan is to go around the pool, get behind Sylvie and her abductor and spring myself on him before he realizes I'm there. I allow the animal to take control of the human. I make no noise at all as I move toward them.

Dan's voice is plaintive. "Why are you doing this, Alan? You love Sylvie, I know you do. Why would you want to hurt her?"

"I do love her. But you've spoiled it. You've made her think I'm not good enough. Well, it worked. I'm not good enough. But no one would be. I'm going to spare her the pain of finding that out."

"Please. Think about what you're doing." Dan's voice is abruptly silent. Then, "Sylvie. I'm so sorry. What has he done to you?"

He must be with them now. And I gauge that I'm only a few yards from the target. I push closer.

Sylvie is crying. "Dad. I'm sorry. I begged Alan not to bring you here. I agreed to go with him—anywhere—if he'd promise not to hurt you or Uncle Burt." Her voice breaks. "I think he killed him."

"No. Don't worry about Uncle Burt. He's going to be just fine. We got to him in time."

I realize Dan's mistake the same instant Sylvie's captor does. "We?" His voice ratchets from contempt to suspicion with that one word. "Who is 'we,' Dan? Did you bring someone with you?"

I can see them now, the three of them. Sylvie and her ex-husband have their backs to me, Dan is in my line of sight. I know Dan doesn't do it on purpose, but his eyes shift to me and away, and in that instant, Alan reacts. He whirls around, his grip on Sylvie's throat forcing her to move with him. He can't see me, I've already ducked out of sight, but he yells in my direction.

"Who's there? Tell me. I've got a knife and I'll cut her throat if you don't show yourself."

I gather myself to spring. Dan moves first. I hear the scuffle as I launch myself up. Alan pushes Sylvie at Dan. He raises the knife to plunge it into her back but I stay his hand with a growl. He spins to face me, but confusion slows his reflexes. He expects to see a human face, not a two-legged animal.

The shock lasts only an instant. He twists his hand and lashes out with the knife. The blade cuts through my jeans, opening a gash high on my left thigh. Blood follows the path of the knife in a crimson arc.

The smell of my own blood triggers an uncontrollable urge to spill his. The change is complete. The vampire takes over. I hear the gasps as Dan and Sylvie see what most mortals never will. I let my gun drop to the ground and prepare to attack the way an animal would, with open jaws and snapping teeth.

Alan starts to scream. I don't care. He's cowering behind upturned fists, trying to back away. I close in on him. He raises the knife and I let him. I'll give him that last flicker of hope before I rip out his throat.

The gunshot is so loud, it makes me jump, clapping my hands to my ears. A spray of blood and tissue settles like a crimson veil on my face and clothes. For a moment, I'm not even sure who's been hit. The painful sound continues to resonate like the toll of a bell long after understanding reaches the brain. Alan crumples slowly to the ground, his face gone.

I drop on all fours. I don't know who shot Alan, but I don't want to take the chance that whoever it is isn't through firing yet. Bullets hurt.

It gets quiet in the clearing. Too quiet. Sylvie moves first, coming close to stare down at Alan's body. Dan grabs her and pulls her back. She reacts as though slapped, jumping away from her father with a small cry. Then she collapses against him and starts to sob.

Neither looks in my direction. I'm back to the human A

But there's a bigger puzzle.

Neither Dan nor Sylvie is holding a gun.

I look down at Alan's body. The shot took out the back of his head, exiting through a gaping hole just below the bridge of his nose. The shot could only have come from behind. From the bushes. And from a high-powered rifle.

My eyes probe the dense brush. Nothing.

Until all hell breaks loose.

The echo of the gunshot has barely faded before uniforms surround us. State police, local police, detectives, even a couple of rangers appear out of the shadows like a swarm of gnats. Evidently they were close on our tail and the sound of the shot was like the discharge from a starter's pistol. It brought them at a run, guns drawn. Between Burt and that group of hikers, no stone was left unturned.