"What's wrong?" Frey asks.

"I know who it is," I say through gritted teeth. Why didn't I notice the little creep before? First the Feds, now him. I've been leading a fucking parade. I'm seriously pissed at myself for being so careless.

There's a stop light at Friar's and Mission Village Drive. Traffic is backed up, as it usually is in late afternoon at that intersection. I decide to use it to my advantage.

I turn to Frey. "Do you know how to drive?"

He looks surprised at the question. "Of course I know how to drive. I just choose not to."

We've inched our way toward the intersection, but the light is turning yellow again. "Then take over." I open the door.

Frey's surprise turns to anxiety. "What? What are you talking about? Where are you going?"

But I've already jumped out and started for the VW, two cars behind. Pull in to the stadium parking lot. I'll meet you there.

To myself, I add, Please don't let him wreck my car.

But Frey's reply follows me, I'll try not to. And thanks for the vote of confidence.

I don't bother to respond or look back. Quicker than it takes to register in No-neck's head, I'm standing at the passenger side door of his car. The door is locked, but the window is open so I reach inside and pull the door open. He does a double take as I slide into the seat.

"Well," I growl with cold menace. "Fancy seeing you again."

I've startled him into speechlessness. In fact, I've startled him into a near heart attack. I can tell because his heart is pounding so hard, I can hear it. Along with the rush of his blood. That, coupled with the anger I'm feeling toward mankind in general, brings the vampire in me to the surface.

I don't know what it looks like when the animal takes over. I only know what I see in the eyes of humans when it happens. No-neck's face has gone pale, his breathing is shallow. A human who allows vampires to feed from them can still distinguish the difference between control and rage. His eyes are locked on mine, and though car horns blare at him to move as the light changes, he is frozen in place.

"Move, asshole," I snarl. "Or I'll rip your miserable throat out right here."

His Adam's apple bounces as he takes a couple of shaky breaths. "Where should I go?"

I gesture to my car just ahead of us. "Keep doing what you've been doing - follow my car."

He puts the VW in gear and we lurch forward. After we've cleared the intersection, he asks, "What are you going to do to me?"

"Depends on you," I snap. "And what kind of answers I get."

His hands are shaking as he pulls up behind the Jag. Frey starts to get out, but I wave him off. I want to do this by myself.

I notice No-neck's car registration in a plastic holder on the visor. I reach over and rip it off. "Let's see who we have here."

The registration lists the owner's name as Darryl Goodwin, his address, 3946 Quail Street in San Diego. "Are you Darryl?"

He nods.

He's wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts. I reach out a hand and lay it on his bare arm. "Okay, Darryl, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

His eyebrows shoot up.

"The easy way is I ask you some questions and you answer." I rub his arm encouragingly. "The hard way is I bite your worthless neck and suck until you're dead. But before you die, I'll get the truth out of you. All of it. So what's it to be?"

His Adam's apple is dancing again.

"Okay, let's give this a try. We'll start with an easy question. Why are you following me?"

Darryl seems to be having a hard time getting words out. My impatience is searing. I dig my nails into his arm and open a long, ragged cut, drawing blood. I know it's risky. In my state, the scent of his blood and fear are like an aphrodisiac too powerful to resist. But I don't have time to waste with him.

I scrape a fingernail deeper. He gasps and tries to pull away. My grip tightens. "Let's try harder, Darryl. Why are you following me?"

He recovers enough to whine, "I was curious, that's all. I saw you at Carolyn's this morning. With the cop." He looks at me sideways. "She's dead, isn't she?"

But this is my interrogation, not his. "What were you doing at Carolyn's?"

A little of the bravado comes back. "You know. I like getting laid, and she likes getting a break on the rent."

My fingers curl into fists. He sees the reaction and holds his hands up. "I didn't mean any disrespect, her being dead and all."

"How long were you there, Darryl?"

A little smile twists the corner of his mouth. "Long enough to see that old lady whack you. I can't believe you let her get away with that. Who was she anyway?"

"Another question and I'll tear your arm out. Are we clear, Darryl?"

He gulps and nods.

"Good. Now, have you followed me everywhere since then?"

Another nod. "From Carolyn's to that house in La Mesa - nice place, by the way. Is that where you live?"

I yank on his arm, hard, and he yelps. "Okay, okay. Anyway, then you went to the hospital and to an office on Pacific Highway and then to the police station. Back to that school, and now, you know, here we are."

Christ. He's been on my tail every minute and I never noticed. I don't know whether I'm angrier with him or myself.

The silence stretches on while I decide what to do with him. I thought I scared him enough the first time I ran into him at Carolyn's to make him want to stay away from me. Now, it seems I've just piqued his curiosity.

I tap my fingernail against the cut on his arm, draw more blood and bring his arm to my mouth. Glaring at him, I suck ever so gently, savoring the taste, the texture. Not as sweet as from a vein, but warm, refreshing. I feel him relax a little. Then I bite down. Hard.

He utters a sharp, high-pitched cry of pain and tries to pull away.

My teeth ravage the arm. I gulp down the blood, losing myself for a moment in the hunger.

His cries of panic bring me back. When I look up, I see Frey start walking toward us.

I take one more mouthful and reluctantly release his arm. I wave Frey off, licking the blood from my fingers. "Darryl, Darryl, what am I going to do with you?"

The change in my tone and the ragged bite mark on his arm drain the remaining color from Darryl's cheeks. He cradles his arm and looks like he might finally be scared enough to cooperate.

"So let's try again. Why are you following me? Did you think if you found out where I lived you could drop by for a quickie once in awhile? That we might become friends? What were you thinking, Darryl?"

His mouth twists and his tone wavers just this side of panic. "I don't know. I didn't plan to see you this morning. When I did, I acted on instinct. I just wanted to find out who you are."

His answer rings true, but it's neither comforting nor reassuring. There's only one way I can think of to keep this kid away from me and from those I love.

"You like going to Beso de la Muerte, don't you?"

The change of subject catches him off guard. He gives a jerky nod.

I lean in toward him and take his arm once again. I raise it to my mouth. At first he tries to jerk away, but when I suck at the wound this time and lick it closed, I feel him relax. I reach a hand up and pull his head close, breathe into his ear and let my hand play with the waistband of his shorts.

He actually moans.

"Let's make a deal," I whisper. "You stay away from me here in San Diego, forget everything you saw today, and I'll meet you down there on Friday. That's two days from now. Two days and I'll give you what you say you want."

He takes my hand and pushes it down his stomach, shifting on the seat until I feel a stirring between his legs. His skin is slimy and slick with sweat. I close my eyes and think of Trish to keep from gagging.

His tone is rough with desire. "How do I know I can trust you?"

I want to answer by grabbing his miserable cock and yanking until he screams. Instead, I stroke it and coo, "Hey, you know everywhere I went today. I think you could find me pretty easily if I didn't show. What do you have to lose?"

"How about a little preview?" he says, squirming on the seat.

"Uh-uh." I pull my hand away and sit back. "You'll just have to wait until Friday. Do we have a deal?"

He's got his own hand between his legs now, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused. "Fuckin-A," he says. "We have a deal."

"Okay, then, Darryl. You can play with yourself when you get home. I want you to leave now."

He sits up straight on the seat, one hand occupied while the other reaches across and starts the engine.

I can't watch this anymore. I climb out and stand there while Darryl pulls out of the parking lot. He actually waves a jaunty hand at me, making me wonder how he's steering. I'm scrubbing my own hand against my jeans with such friction I feel the palm burn.

Frey steps out of the driver's side of the car and looks at me with a mixture of revulsion and disbelief.

You agreed to fuck that cretin?

I don't know what surprises me more, that Frey heard the conversation in the car or that he uses the word "fuck."

He snorts. I'm a jungle cat, remember? I have good hearing.

I push past him and get into the car. I have no intention of fucking Darryl. Ever. I just wanted to buy us some time.

Frey drops into the passenger seat and I hand him Darryl's registration. Hold on to that. Darryl may think he knows where to find me, but I know where to find him now, too.

He shoves it into the glove box and snaps it closed. How do you know that guy?

Besode le Muerte. I glance over at him. Do you know the place?

He shakes his head. You go there to feed? What's the matter with you? Don't you know that place has a bad reputation?

His condescending tone and disapproving expression are too much. And what would you have me do? I can't pick up cans of Alpo at the pet store like some of us. I need blood, remember?

I don't eat dog food, he replies archly. And I thought you had a human boyfriend. At least, I know you have a human you have sex with because I can smell it on you. Why don't you feed from him like a normal vamp.

Like a normal vamp? This conversation would be ludicrous under any circumstances. But to have it now with a man I suspect may be a worse monster than any I've yet encountered sets my blood on fire. I've already wasted too much time. I want to find Trish and I want to find her now.

I reach over and grab Frey by the scruff of the neck. Snarling, I pull him from his seat and hold his head close to my mouth.

I wonder how feeding from a shapeshifter will be?

I feel his body stiffen, and his hands rise to ward me off. But before they can, I'm tearing at the collar of his shirt, exposing his neck, ripping through skin and cartilage with a ferocity that stuns him into immobility. Darryl awakened the thirst. It blazes within me. I find the artery, sink my teeth into it and drink. I will learn the truth about Daniel Frey.

Blood has interesting tastes and qualities that vary from species to species. Human blood tastes like a mineral supplement and warm saltwater, rudimentary. You get no feeling for the individual from human blood, not a good thing as I'm learning from my pal Darryl. Vampire blood, on the other hand, is more complex, like a fine wine. It's full of the essence of the vampire's life, all his history reduced to stark simplicity and there for the taking. When you drink from a vampire, you ingest what he is, or at least what he lets you think he is. I know now from Avery that it is possible to hide your true nature under the guise of love.

Daniel Frey is a different creature all together. His blood is acidic, sour, burning my throat as I drink. At first, I feel nothing except the rush of energy that flows from his life force into mine. I need more. I worry at his throat, sucking harder, ignoring his groans and hands that make a feeble attempt to push me away.

I open my mind to him. Tell me. What have you done to Trish?

His thoughts are muddled, lethargic. I don't understand. I showed you that she is safe.

A trick. I know about your past. I know about Boston.

I let him hear the conversation at the police station. There is a shift in his consciousness, an understanding of what I know to be true. And in the rush of his blood he allows me to see into his soul.

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