heart. She would live again to prowl the night.
No. She had to disappear.
A floorboard creaked as he stepped to the side of the bed. She moaned, squirmed a little beneath the sheet, but didn’t turn over.
The stake still held in his teeth, he reached out with his left hand. He pinched the sheet where its edge curled over her shoulder. As he eased it down she continued to take long, slow breaths. But his own breathing quickened.
The sliding sheet revealed her naked back, the smooth curves of her buttocks, her sleek legs.
She was a vampire, a vile, murdering demon. But her body was that of a slender young woman, and he felt a stir of heat in his groin as he studied her. He trembled with the familiar mingling of lust and terror — a sensation close to ecstasy, which always came upon him at such moments. He used to feel ashamed of his desire. Finally, however, he’d come to consider it a reward for his sacrifices. A payment, of sorts, bestowed upon him to balance out the risks.
Without it he would have lost the will, long ago, to continue his crusade. He knew this to be true. Confronting vampires of the male gender, he felt no such arousal. Only revulsion. As a result he had ceased to seek them out. He considered this to be his greatest failing, but often told himself that he was doing his share. He was one man against a horde. He couldn’t dispatch them all. He had to be selective. So he selected the women. Horrid as they were, they excited him.
Her left arm lay against her side, bent at the elbow, the rest out of sight. Its skin was pebbled with tiny bumps from the cool, morning air. Leaning forward, he peered over her upper arm at the swell of her breast. It had goose-flesh, like her arm. Her nipple stood erect. From this position he couldn’t see her other breast.
As he stared, saliva began to spill over his lip. He tried to shut his mouth, but the stake was in the way. He jerked his left hand up to catch the drool, but not in time.
A string of spit dribbled onto the vampire’s arm.
Mumbling, she slid a hand out from under her pillow, brushed the wetness, rolled onto her back and frowned as if perplexed. Still, her eyes were shut. She took the hand away. It fell onto the mattress beside her hip. It rubbed the sheet, then rose and came to rest on her thigh, the end of her thumb sinking into the thick nest of hair at her groin.
As he watched, full of dread that she might awaken, yet trembling with a fever of desire, he took the stake from his teeth. He knew he should wait no longer.
But he hesitated. His eyes roamed her sleeping form.
Though she might be centuries old, her face and body were those of a teenage girl. She looked no older than seventeen or eighteen. She looked lovely, innocent, delicious.
If only she were human, and not a foul, loathsome creature of the night.
He ached to kiss those lips which had sucked so much innocent blood. He ached to caress those breasts, to savor their velvety smoothness, to feel the soft rub of those nipples against his palms. He ached to spread those legs and slide deep into her heat.
If only she weren’t a vampire.
Such a shame. Such a waste.
Get it over with, he told himself.
He leaned farther forward, knees pressing against the side of the mattress, and raised his hammer high. His other hand twitched and fluttered as he lowered the tapered shaft toward her chest. The shaking point passed over her left breast, moved slightly higher, hovered half an inch above her skin.
There.
One strong blow and...
Her eyes leaped open. She gasped. She clutched his wrist, twisted it with all the might of her demonic powers. Crying out, he watched in horror as the stake dropped from his numb fingers and fell, blunt end first, toward her other breast.
A feeling of utter desolation swept through him like an icy flood.
Without the stake...
As it bounced off her breast he strained against her grip, praying to retrieve it. But her fierce hold was too powerful. The stake slid out of sight beyond her rib cage.
He knew, then, that all was lost.
Still, he swung the hammer down at her face. Crying out, she yanked his trapped wrist. She flung up her other arm, blocking the blow as he fell toward her.
He sprawled across her chest. An arm clamped tight against his back and she bucked beneath him, squirming and turning, tumbling him over her body. He no sooner hit the mattress than she scurried onto him and smashed a knee into his groin.
His breath blasted out. Stunned with agony, he saw the wooden shaft in her hand. Watched her raise it above his face. He tried to ward off the blow, but his stricken muscles failed to obey.
He had just enough breath to choke out a scream as the stake’s point punched through his eye.
Explorers
One
“How about a little detour on the way home?” Pete asked. He started his van moving. Its tires crunched over the gravel of the parking lot.
A detour. Sounded good to Larry. But he said nothing. He knew that Pete’s suggestion had been directed to those in the seats behind them. If the wives didn’t go for it, the matter was closed.
“You aren’t gonna get us lost again, are you?” Barbara asked.
“Who, me?”
“He gets us on those back roads, no telling where we’ll end up.”
“I always get us home, don’t I?”
“Eventually.”
Pete glanced at Larry. A corner of his mouth turned up, lifting that side of his mustache. “Why do I put up with this, I ask you?”
Before Larry could come up with an answer, Barbara leaned forward and hooked a tawny forearm across her husband’s throat. “Because you love me, right?” she asked. She nipped the ridge of his ear.
“Hey, hey, calm down. You want to run me off the road?”
She wore a sleeveless blouse. A sprinkling of freckles showed on her deeply tanned shoulder. Though the air conditioner was blowing cool air into the van, the skin above her lip gleamed with moisture under a fine, curly down. Larry didn’t want to be caught staring, so he looked away. Just ahead, an old-timer dressed like a prospector was leading a burro along the road’s dusty shoulder.
Larry wondered if the guy was for real. Silver Junction, the town they were leaving behind, was full of characters in old west getups. Some seemed like the real article, but he had no doubt that most were simply playing the role for the benefit of the tourists.
“So how about it?” Pete asked as Barbara released him. “Want to do some exploring?”
“I think it’d be fun,” Jean said. “You in a hurry to get home, Larry?”
“Me? No.”
“He always hates to lose a day,” she explained. “I have an awful time trying to drag him out of the house.”
“The day’s already shot,” he said.
“Same to you, fella,” Barbara said.
“Whoops. Didn’t mean it that way. It’s been great.” It
