“If you’re hungry, there’s food in your dish,” I told him when he shifted restlessly, a cue that he wanted a treat. I wasn’t surprised when he left my hand and flew out the window headed for the roof. More than once I’d suspected he understood me when I talked to him. I read that crows very intelligent and Harper had gotten a good dose of my power when I’d healed him. Who knew what other affects it had on animals?

I left the window open for him and sat down at my laptop to check out the online activity. Today was the second time I’d used troll bile to purchase medicine for Remy and I was paranoid as hell that someone would trace it back to me and especially to Remy. It was the main reason I dealt only with Malloy. For all his crafty ways, Malloy was very discreet about his business. In his line of work he had to be if he didn’t want to end up gutted in an alley.

The message boards were busy. There was no mention of troll bile but another thread caught my eye – one about vampire activity in Portland. Vampires were the most common topic discussed on the boards and there were always tons of posts about vampire sightings though it was pretty easy to distinguish the real deal from the hype. I’d never seen a vampire but I knew plenty about them, mostly learned from Remy, and my education had taught me that Hollywood and fiction writers have absolutely no clue.

Vampires usually keep to large cities where their hunting can be camouflaged by the higher crime rate. They live in covens and like to hunt in small packs and, while they are mostly active at night, mature vamps can handle exposure to daylight as long as it is not direct sunlight and not for long periods. Younger vamps, those less than a hundred years old, not strong enough to withstand even a minute of daylight. Most vamps, young and old, wouldn’t risk the chance of meeting the sun so they stay hidden during the day.

And there are no solitary vamps wandering the earth with tortured souls waiting to be saved by true love. Vampires are pure evil and their only redeeming quality is that they can be killed with the right weapons. Unfortunately, if a human gets close enough to see a vampire in the flesh, chances are they will not survive to talk about it.

The posting about Portland caught my attention because Portland was a little over an hour from New Hastings, and I used to live there with my dad. There usually wasn’t that much talk about the Portland area because its population was not big enough to hide unusual activity. So when I read that four teenage girls, aged seventeen and eighteen, had disappeared in the last two weeks, a chill went through me. All the girls were reported as suspected runaways, though they had taken nothing with them and none of their friends believed they would run away. None of the girls knew each other and the police had no leads. The poster said it looked like a vampire was at work in the area.

Bile rose in my throat. Vampires take great pleasure in torturing their victims before they drain them. And what they leave behind… A shudder passed through me as an image came unbidden to my mind. I closed my eyes but the scene had been seared into my brain.

I gritted my teeth and waited for the old fear and pain to pass. At times like this I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and hide under my covers. But I didn’t. If there were vampires in Maine, I had to know.

The rest of the thread did not offer any more information other than the girls had all disappeared at night. The user who had started the thread was a regular on the site, and we talked often. He really knew his stuff so I pinged him and asked for a private chat. Within minutes he popped up in a separate window.

Wulfman: Sup PG. Been a while.

PixieGirl: Yeah been busy. Reading your post. Vamps in Portland?

Wulfman: According to my sources. Weird though. Not their usual scene.

PixieGirl: Wonder what brings them back to Portland.

Wulfman: Back? What do you know?

Pause.

PixieGirl: Knew someone killed by vamps ten years ago.

Wulfman: Wow. I never knew. Sorry.

PixieGirl: You remember any activity back then?

Wulfman: I wasn’t on the scene then. I can check my sources and get back to you.

PixieGirl: Thanks.

Wulfman: It would help if I had the name of your friend who died.

Long pause.

Wulfman: Still there?

PixieGirl: Yeah… his name was Daniel Grey.

Chapter 3

The sparrow twitched restlessly in my hands so I opened them and watched him take flight, his newly healed wing moving like it had never been broken. I giggled as he circled my head happily a few times then flew up to perch on a branch above me.

“I hope you’re more careful next you see that old tom cat,” I told him as I stood and brushed dirt off my jeans. I pulled on my mittens and set off across the small park at the end of our street. The sky was heavy with gray clouds and I could smell snow in the air. If we got enough snow this time, Daddy promised to take me sledding. My pace picked up and I hurried home.

I could hear our neighbor’s basset hound, Charlie, baying from halfway down the street and I wondered what had upset him. Charlie was old and he didn’t even bark at squirrels or cats anymore. When I reached our neighbor’s house I walked around to their backyard to see what Charlie was making so much noise about. It surprised me to find him straining at his wire run, barking and howling at my backyard. Something about the way his hackles were raised made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I ran back out to the street and up the walkway to our front door. “Daddy, I think there’s something wrong with Charlie,” I called, opening the door. I tossed my mittens and cap on the bench in the hallway. “Daddy?” I called again.