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the figure pushed her against the vaulted ceiling, laying her across it as if she were on the floor.  Blood dripped down on us like rain. Having finally taken on full physical form, he pinned Rozaline’s body and straddled her. He threw his head back and let out a feral roar.
    Nicholas was frantic. He jumped on top of the desk and attempted to climb the walls, scratching gashes into the plaster. “Release my mate,” he screamed. When that didn’t work he flung himself off the furniture, leaping as high as he could. It was no use—he was too short and the ceiling too high to reach. “I’ll kill you!”
    Above us, Rozaline’s eyes rolled back into her head. Her eyelids closed. Soft whimpering moans replaced her frantic screams. She’d lost too much blood. Vampires may be immortal and strong, but no matter how old and powerful we may be, we can’t function without blood. Paralysis eventually takes hold, leaving us in a comatose-like state until rejuvenated by liquid life.
    “She has my blood,” the ghostly man said. His voice was the deepest bass I’d ever heard. He licked his lips as if savoring a sumptuous meal. “I want it back.” With a sharp, talon-like nail, he swiped across Rozaline’s neck, severing her head from her body.
    I let out a disbelieving gasp. It all happened so quickly.
    Her head fell to the ground at my feet. The beautiful silver chains she wore came down next, pooling into her matted and bloody hair.
    My heart ground to a screeching halt. It was as if all time stopped at that very moment. I stared dumbfounded at her head, lying a few feet away from me. Her long and beautiful brown hair covered most of her face like a bloody cobweb, but it didn’t cloak her eyes. They’d faded from their vampire blue-gray to a cold, milky white.
    Rozaline was dead.
    Just like that, her immortal life had been snuffed out. It had only taken a single stroke of this thing’s hand.
    Nicholas let out a cry—the sound of pain itself.
    I stood frozen in place, unable to process the overwhelming emotions hitting me all at once: rage, fear, sadness, anger, remorse, hatred, guilt.
    The man, Aniketos, the poltergeist, whatever the hell it was, bent his head and lapped at the remaining blood trickling out like a tiny waterfall from the empty stump of Rozaline’s neck.
    Nicholas upended the futon, sending it straight up into the air. It struck the man but he didn’t flinch—too focused on his meal, probably. The futon landed with a loud crash.  Nicholas roared in fury.
    I too felt his pain, but we were helpless to do anything, no matter how desperately we wanted to. I wished for a gun or weapon of some kind to use against this thing, but I wondered if it would do any good. Being mostly spirit, how could we hurt it?
    I looked over to Fallon, still plastered against the wall. She appeared just as frightened and confused as I felt. I made a small waving motion, telling her to get out of here while that thing was distracted. If we couldn’t protect our own, there was no way we’d be able to protect her.
    She nodded at my sign and slowly edged along the wall to the door.
    Aniketos pulled back from his meal with a satisfied rumbling moan. He turned to us one by one and inhaled as if taking inventory and noting our scents. “You all have my blood.” His ugly blood-red eyes flitted to each of our faces. “I want it back.”
    Without another word, the creature vanished, and Rozaline’s lifeless body came crashing down to the floor at our feet.

CHAPTER 5
     
     
    Nicholas collapsed. His knees made a sickening sploosh in the blood-soaked rug. He crumpled next to the body of his mate, making an odd sort of hiccupping sound as if fighting back his tears.
    I couldn’t fight mine. They flowed unchecked down my face as I watched Nicholas scoop Rozaline’s severed head into his lap.
    I couldn’t believe she was gone.
    Nicholas cradled her head in his arms and gently wiped the hair from her face. He looked completely