“Thank you for the company. I don’t get to do much socializing around here. It’s the town’s only drawback.”
Overstreet nodded. “Well, thanks, again, Sara. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again before I leave town.”
“If you’re not doing anything for dinner, I’m making fried chicken.”
“If that’s an offer,” he said with a broad smile, “I accept.”
“Six o’clock.”
A nod and a wave and he left the house.
Sara cleared the table and washed their few dishes. Maybe this wasn’t such a quiet little town after all. Vampires. Journalists. Ex-hunters.
What next?
Carl Overstreet drove through one end of Susandale to the other, slower this time that the first, stopping now and then to take notes and photographs. He was aware of unseen eyes watching him from behind drawn curtains. There was a heaviness in the air, an almost palpable tension that hung over the town. He was surprised that Sara hadn’t noticed it. He had recognized it for what it was the minute he’d arrived.
He wondered what would happen if he knocked on one of the doors but immediately dismissed the idea. There was always a chance the town housed more than one vampire and he was in no itching hurry to meet another one up close and personal.
He drove down the quiet streets a second time, then parked his truck in the lot behind the hospital. He set his phone to wake him before sundown and settled back for a nap.
Sara had just finished mashing the potatoes when the doorbell rang. She covered the pot, smoothed her hand over her hair and went to admit her guest.
“Hi, Carl.” She noticed he had changed his shirt and swapped his baggy sweater for a plaid sports jacket.
“Thanks, again, for the invite.”
“You’re welcome. How was your day?”
“Uneventful,” he said.
“I’m sure. Come on in, dinner’s ready.” She set the food on the kitchen table, urged him to help himself, and sat down.
“So,” he said, selecting a plump drumstick, “how was your day?”
“I re-read your articles. It’s all just so hard to believe. I don’t know how you found the nerve to be in the same room with the vampire. Weren’t you afraid?”
“We weren’t in the same room. I was inside a house, and he was on the porch.”
“How on earth did you get him to talk to you?”
“I was working with this hunter I’d met, Jim Hewitt. We kidnapped the vampire’s girlfriend. Long story short, we offered to give her back if the vampire would give me an interview.”
“Shades of Anne Rice!” Sara exclaimed. “That’s crazy!”
“Yeah, I know that now, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Is the vampire still alive?”
“I imagine so. He was very old and very powerful. And scary as hell.”
“What happened to the girl?”
“I don’t know. I hightailed it out of town and never looked back. You know what’s even more amazing? He wrote romance novels.”
Sara burst out laughing. “A vampire writing romance novels? Seriously?”
“Yeah. He had a couple of pseudonyms. Eva Black, Claire Ebon, Stella Raven.”
Claire Ebon was a man? And a vampire? And then she frowned as she recalled that Travis had claimed to know her. Or him. How was that possible? Even as the thought crossed her mind, there was a knock at the door. Murmuring excuse me, she went to answer it, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Travis waiting on the porch. “Hi!”
“Hey, I hope it’s okay for me to drop by like this. It looks like you’ve got company.”
“I do. Come on in. You’ll never guess who it is.”
Travis swore under his breath as he caught Overstreet’s scent. “Listen, I don’t want to intrude. I’ll come back later.”
“Don’t be silly.” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him toward the kitchen.
Resigned to his fate, he followed her.
“Carl Overstreet,” Sara said, “I want you to meet …”
“Jim Hewitt!” Overstreet pushed away from the table and lurched to his feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Confused, Sara glanced from one man to the other. Jim Hewitt had been Overstreet’s accomplice in kidnapping the vampire’s girlfriend. She looked at Travis, one brow raised as she waited for an explanation.
“Good to see you again, Carl,” Travis said. “Although the timing couldn’t be worse.”
“What’s going on?” Sara tugged on Travis’ hand. “Why is he calling you Hewitt?”
“It’s a long story. Maybe you should sit down.” Travis glared at Overstreet. “Both of you.”
Sara sank onto her chair, her expression troubled, her hands tightly clenched in her lap.
Overstreet sat down more slowly, his eyes narrowed.
Travis took a deep breath. “I don’t know where to start.”
“It’s been my experience that the beginning is always the best place,” Overstreet remarked.
“Yeah. I should have taken your advice and left town,” Travis said. “But I didn’t. I followed Ronan and Shannah to New York, and I was right behind them when they left. And then I followed them back home.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “And that’s when my luck ran out. I confronted Ronan and managed to stake him in the back. I told Shannah to make a run for it, that he was a vampire, and then …” He shook his head at the memory. “She yelled that she was a vampire, too, and then mesmerized me so that I couldn’t move. I had to stand there, watching, while she pulled the stake out of Ronan’s back.”
Overstreet nodded. “I always knew he’d turn her, sooner or later.”
“Yeah. Well, after she pulled the stake out, she dragged me over to him. I figured I was a dead man for sure. Instead, he gave me a choice. Die or become what I’d hunted my whole life. I should have let him kill me.”
“Why would you say that?” Sara exclaimed, even as she tried to process the fact that Travis was a vampire and his real name was Jim.
“Why? I lost everything that was important to me. Friends. Family. My purpose in life. I used to be
