Adrianna went to work, not only because she was in desperate need of something to occupy her mind, but because the bookstore was, after all, her only means of support.

Thursdays were usually quiet, and today was no exception. Her regulars came in for coffee about ten-thirty, then browsed through the racks for half an hour or so.

During a lull, Adrianna went up into the attic and opened one of the boxes that held the books left behind by the previous owner. She grabbed a couple and carried them downstairs, not looking at the titles until she was seated at her desk.

The first book was an old reference book on medieval castles. The second was calledThe Handbook of the Undead .

Adrianna stared at the title, her heart pounding erratically. After a moment, she opened the book and began thumbing through the pages. There were sections on how to prevent a vampire, how to recognize a vampire, how to destroy a vampire.

She felt a sense of excitement as she turned to the index in the back of the book. And there, under C, she found Curing the Vampire, How to, on page 386.

Was it possible? she wondered. Could Navarre be cured? Her gaze skimmed the instructions. There was a recipe for a potion that must be mixed during the dark of the moon and consumed by the vampire the moment he woke from his rest. A note at the bottom suggested that, for best results, the potion be mixed by a Transylvanian gypsy, preferably a virgin.

Adrianna grimaced, wondering where they'd find a gypsy of any kind in Moreno Bay.

She ran her finger over the ingredients for the potion: a smidgen of mugwort, a pinch of larkspur, a dash of foxglove, a touch of yarrow, a generous helping of cinquefoil, hyssop, rue, and a hint of garlic.

Adrianna frowned. The dark of the moon. Transylvanian gypsies. It sounded ridiculous, and yet, what if it would work?

Her romance book club ladies came in at four, laughing and talking about the latest novels they'd read. They met at her store every Thursday afternoon, to talk about the book they'd read the week before, and to pick a new one for the coming week. Adrianna was a big fan of romances, and she usually sat in with them. But not today. She was too immersed inThe Handbook of the Undead , and so she just waved and told them to help themselves to coffee and cookies.

The book was fascinating, though she found it hard to believe anyone could take it seriously. In the Philippines, a vampire called anaswang was believed to be a beautiful female vampire, who was able to marry and have children; however, at night, it flew to other houses to drink the blood of its victims.

In Bulgaria, they believed that a vampire could be destroyed if it could be forced into a bottle, then thrown into a fire.

According to the book, those who were likely candidates for vampirism were those who were born with a red caul, with teeth, or a red birth mark. The seventh son of a seventh son was also likely to become one of the undead, as were those who died without benefit of baptism. A vampire might be made from a corpse if a cat jumped over the body, or the deceased died by drowning.

She frowned when she read that vampires must rest in a coffin. Navarre slept in a bed, just like anyone else.

Much was made of the fact that vampires could be held off by a cross, or other holy relic. Adrianna didn't know if that was true. Anne Rice's vampires had been unaffected by the sight of a cross. Still, on the off-chance there might be some truth to that theory, she made a mental note to buy herself a crucifix before the day was out.

Holy water was also considered to be powerful against vampires. It was said to burn the skin of the undead like acid. It could also be used to detect the presence of vampires. If poured on ground that was under the evil influence of a vampire, it would boil and smoke. Pouring holy water into an empty coffin would seal it against future habitation.

Vampires were also believed to be unable to swim or cross running water, as water was a purifier which would wash away evil and sin. In Greece, those believed to be revenant were banished to a small island, thus isolating them and keeping them from preying on the living. Sometimes, if a body was thought to be possessed, it was put in water. If the body floated, it was believed to be a vampire.

She grunted softly as she read the ways to detect a vampire: red eyes, fangs, long nails, pale skin, aversion to bright lights, no appetite, never seen during the daylight hours, reluctance to enter a house without an invitation...

The description fit Navarre perfectly, except for the part about the daylight hours and the long fingernails. She frowned, remembering the night he had delivered the bed. She'd held the door open for him, but he hadn't entered the house until she had asked him inside.

He really was a vampire. She'd known it before. Believed it. But somehow, reading the paranormal characteristics he possessed in print made them even more real. More frightening.

According to the book, vampires were able to create other vampires, to fly, to dissolve into mist, change size or dimension, and transform themselves into animals. They were also said to be able to control the elements and animals, to scale walls with ease, to hypnotize mortals with a glance.

She felt her gorge rise as she turned to the section on destroying the vampire. Staking, beheading, piercing with a sword, extracting the heart... She shuddered at the gruesome images such methods invoked.

It was after six when she closed the book and put it aside.

She glanced outside, surprised to see that the sun was going down. Dusk. The time when the undead began to stir, when evil made itself known...

She switched on the lights, then hurried through the store, making sure the back door was locked, checking the windows. She collected the clay's receipts and locked them in the safe in the back room.

As she stepped outside and locked the door, she had the sudden, uneasy feeling that she was being watched. Panic rose within her even as she tried to convince herself she was being foolish, that she was just overreacting, that her imagination was working overtime because she'd spent the afternoon reading about the undead.

But she couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom as she unlocked her car and slid behind the wheel.

She was afraid, and yet her first instinct was to drive out to Cliff House, to see Navarre, to curl up in the sure protection of his arms, to tell him she might have discovered a cure.

She didn't like the thought that niggled at the back of her mind, the insidious notion that he liked being a vampire, that he had been playing with her all this time, lulling her into a false sense of security before he buried his fangs in her throat and drank her dry.

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