Still, the body didn’t want it. She choked, struggling to contain it.

“I could ask you why you did this to me, but I already know the answer,” Mila said, after she got herself under control. “Because you’re selfish. You always have been. Why would you care about my life if you were hungry?”

“I didn’t know,” Danika began, but then stopped, throwing up her hands. “I’m not going to argue with you. You didn’t come here for that.”

“No, I didn’t,” Mila agreed. “I came here to find out how you’re surviving so well. I’ve seen your shows. Anyone paying attention would know something was up. It seems like some of your guests have turned up missing lately. I’ve noticed that. And you’ve been interviewing vampire experts. I’ve noticed that too. Plus, every now and then, you get a little twitchy on camera … I guess most people aren’t going to put two and two together, but I can see what’s going on.”

Danika laughed. “You have no idea.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then?”

Danika smirked. “And ruin all your fun? You should have to figure things out for yourself, just like I did. The whole wurdulac thing was a bit of a surprise to me, and frankly, it has some built-in barriers that just don’t bode well for the continuation of the race!” Danika rolled her eyes at what was apparently a private joke.

“Wurdulac? “ Mila asked.

“A vampire that can only feed on its loved ones,” Danika said. “You didn’t think I wanted to eat you, did you? I had no choice.”

Danika stared her sister in the eye, measuring Mila’s response, before she continued. “Speaking of which, how are you keeping yourself fed, by the way? You look hungry to me. I can see it in your eyes. Bloodshot and a little yellow.”

Danika held out her arm. “Do you need a hit, baby sister?”

“You are a bitch, you know that?” Mila hissed. She struggled to hold herself at bay, because Danika had her pegged. Her fingers longed to reach out and grab that arm. She could almost feel the heat pulsing in that blue vein that ran across the inside of Danika’s wrist.

“I can help you, if you want,” Danika whispered. “You don’t have to be hungry all the time. All you have to do is make a few new friends … and then keep them safe and tucked away.”

“How many have you done this too?” Mila asked, shocked.

Danika smiled. “It was hard at first, because I didn’t understand.”

“How many?”

Danika shrugged. “Fifteen or twenty? The first few got away before I knew what was happening. Since then I’ve kept them a little closer at hand.”

“Murderer.”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Danika said. “They all walked again after I kissed them. That’s one thing you have to learn — if you drink too much, they die. And stay dead. If you only drink a little, they get a little groggy … but after a couple days, they’re back to normal. If you drink a little too much though … some of them sleep for a day or so and then grow fangs of their own.”

“How many have you done?” Danika asked, genuinely curious.

Mila said it under her breath. “One.”

Danika frowned. “Did you say one?”

Mila nodded.

“How is that possible … it’s been weeks.”

“He’s been enough,” Mila said. “But I feel horrible for what I’ve done to him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danika said. “I feel like a shit too. But, you do what you need to if you want to survive.”

“You have to stop,” Mila said. “You can’t do this to people.”

“You do what you have to do,” Danika said. She rose from the table. “I have to get back to work,” she said. “But my offer stands. If you need a drink …” She smiled, and then held out her arms. Mila couldn’t help but to focus on the swell of the veins in her wrists. Danika reached for her sister, teasing, “Can I get a hug?”

Mila’s heart flared and she longed to get close to Danika. But she refused. “You’d like it if I bit you right here in public, wouldn’t you?” Mila said. “Great publicity for you, and you’d walk away the wounded hero.”

Danika winked. “We all need good PR,” she said.

“Some of us just need someone to love,” Mila said.

Danika snorted. “Love less. Eat more.”

— 26 —

The reports had been there, but Mila hadn’t noticed. And then it all came home when the 10 o’clock news anchor showed a special report on Vampires: Stake or be Steak?

The camera swept through an empty house, pausing periodically to focus in on a patch of reddened floor or wall. Places where someone had died.

“The strange thing is … nobody is here.” The reporter was Baird Lang, an attractive thirty-something guy with a luster in his black hair that most women would kill for. He played up the confused look perfectly, as the camera flipped from him, to the blood-stained walls, to the obviously empty hallway from kitchen to bedrooms, and then back to Baird’s face.

“Authorities have confirmed that more than three dozen homes have been discovered in this state over the past month … and the numbers are now snowballing at an alarming rate. There have been reports of screams and commotion at some of the locations, but each time, by the time police have been called and dispatched to the scene, the victims … and their assailants … are already gone. We talked with South Precinct Captain Josh Brant, who offered this theory.”

“Look, it’s no secret that there have been outbreaks of vampires and even werewolves around the globe for the past several months now. Given the evidence we have been able to find on the scene, and this situation, we believe these are vampire-related abductions. Or killings. Perhaps both.”

“But Captain, don’t vampires usually drain their prey and leave?”

The policeman nodded, blue eyes flashing perfectly for the cameras. “Absolutely … from what we’ve seen up to now, they always have before. But how much experience do we really have with this? Our legends of vampires go back a thousand years, but our actual experience — that only goes back a few months. Let’s face it, we are dealing with a creature that is intelligent … if there is a group of vampires who have decided to take the evidence with them for some reason, well, it does limit our choices in terms of pursuing and prosecuting, doesn’t it? There is no body, so we’re not even sure who has been injured. One thing we have noticed, however, is that there appears to be a connection between many of these empty houses. The home we’re standing in front of right now belongs to Lucas Branson. He and his wife disappeared three days ago. They were considered a very happy couple. Last night, Lucas’ parents disappeared from their house just a few miles away from here leaving behind bloodstains on the sheets of their bed. And at the same time, the brother and sister-in-law of Lucas’ wife Naomie, also appear to have disappeared. Their apartment is currently empty, and has been for more than twelve hours, though a bloodstain is clearly evident on the floor near their rec room couch.”

— 27 —

Mila thumbed off the television remote in disgust. It was no mystery to her what was going on. She’d looked up the clue that Danika had thrown her during her lunch. She’d learned more about what the word wurdulac really meant, and she understood now. It was all crystal clear. Her sister’s genetic transition had not simply been to change into a creature that fed on humans. Her physical alteration had turned her into a transmitter. When she bit friends and lovers, so long as she didn’t drink them dry, she basically paralyzed them for a time, and somehow transferred a retrovirus that impacted and inserted itself into their genes, initiating the deadly mutation in others. While by nature, the wurdulac was self-limiting, given its boundary of relationships, Danika had, as usual, found a way to play outside of the rules, and in doing so, had set loose a horde of wurdulacs, thanks to her insatiable appetite. Mila had no doubt that you could follow a thread of relationships from every Chicago wurdulac back to Danica. The question now was … what should she do about it?

— 28 —

Lon brought her the FedEx package. There was something in his face that made Danika open it immediately. The Network office in New York didn’t often send FedExes to Chicago talk show hosts.

“It looks important,” he noted. Danika set down her list of potential guests for next week, and took the package. It was thin, and she ripped open the top with a quick pull.

There was only one thing inside. A one-page letter.

The letter was from the president of the network and the content said essentially this: “We’d like you to come and jack your show off next week in New York instead of Chicago. We think we can make you a star.”

“National syndication!” Lon gasped.

“Leaving Chicago,” Danika answered, with a trace of panic in her voice.

“And the problem with that is …” he asked.

Danika didn’t answer. Mentioning that she had a blood farm going that would be hard to instantly replace in another city was not really something that sat on the tip of her tongue.

“Do you think you can take me with you?” Lon asked. “I’d like to keep helping with the show.”

“I’m sure they’ll ask me about that, and I’d like to keep you involved. So I’d say … pack your bags, we’re going to the Rotten Apple, baby!”

“The Big Apple,” he corrected.

“Yeah, whatever,” she said. “It will be rotten when I’m done with it!”

— 29 —

Mila grinned in the dark. Her teeth shone white as the moon, but nobody saw. She slipped around the corner of the small bungalow, and walked up to the front door. She twisted the knob, and it opened easily. She’d figured it would. Lucas Branson was in a hurry, and he wouldn’t be worried about locking the door behind him.