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alone. Of course, it was nearly four o'clock in the morning. Who would
be out at this hour besides an exotic dancer and a group of thugs engaged in
what sounded like one hell of a beat-down?
    A voice in her head told her to just get in her car and
leave – to forget what she heard and go. But the ex-military veteran who had
been beaten by her husband for eight years cold-cocked that voice into silence
and then gave her a shove as if to ask what in the hell she was waiting for.
Before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed her Beretta out of her bag,
along with the extra clip, and rushed across the street.
    Flat-backing herself against the wall with her gun held
close, she peeked around the wall to see what was going on. Damn! Five men –
well, she thought they were men, but they looked a bit… off – beating a
sixth man. The sixth wasn't resisting, even though something about him made Sam
think he could easily take all of them, despite his inferior size. Not that he
was small. He just looked…well, he was too thin, like he was sick or hadn't
eaten in a while. The five beating him had long, black hair and their skin had
an odd bluish color. Something seemed strange about them, but maybe it was just
the lighting.
    "Hey!" She jumped into the open and pointed her
gun at them. "Get away from him."
    Five sets of eyes turned on her as the sixth man fell to his
knees under one of the garage's overhead lights.
    Not backing down an inch, Sam stepped closer, poised to open
her own can of whoop-ass if they didn't walk away.
    As one of the men started to approach her with a nightstick
gripped in his fist, his eyes flashed red. What the fuck? Fear rattled her spine
and she shot off a round.
    "NO!" The sixth man held up one hand, trying to
stop her as he crumpled in on himself.
    Stop her? What the hell was going on here? Was this
some kind of gang initiation?
    "Like hell I will!" She stepped forward and fired
again, hitting the one coming toward her in the shoulder.
    He flew backward from the impact and threw his head back as
an ear-splitting shriek broke the air. Was that him? Sam clamped her free hand
over her ear and winced, shying away briefly before glancing back at the sixth
man who now lay motionless on the pavement. She had to help him. Resisting the
ear-splitting screech, Sam forced herself to stand her ground, her gun trained
on the asshole doing a banshee impersonation.
    Suddenly, the devil-man's scream stopped and his mouth
snapped shut. He fixed Sam with an icy glare that looked abnormally blue, just
like the rest of him, then the five attackers turned as one and fled,
disappearing so fast Sam actually entertained the thought that she had only
imagined them. Until she looked back and found the dark-haired man still lying
face-up, deathly still. Shoving the Beretta into the waist of her jeans, she
rushed toward him.
    * * *
    Micah lay on the ground, looking up at the light shining
down like a mockery of the light he had hoped to see as he entered the
afterlife and took his final walk into Heaven, or whatever awaited a vampire
when he died.
    Noooo…nooooo! He was still alive. Someone had saved
him. Why? Why had someone interfered? All he wanted was to die. Just die and be
done with his horrible, wretched life.
    The scent of lilacs, subtle and feminine, wafted over him
like angelic perfume as the woman who had saved him against his will knelt
beside him.
    "Hey…hey, can you hear me? Can you move? What's your
name? Can you tell me your name?"
    Her intoxicating voice soothed him instantly, but Micah
couldn't see her as he blinked against the bright light.
    "Who are you?" He groaned, his entire body
protesting his attempt to talk.
    "I'm going to save you."
    As she bent over him, the overhead light formed a halo
around her head as it shone through her spiky blond hair and shadowed her face.
The smell of lilacs grew even stronger, pleasing Micah's senses.
    Whoever she was, she looked, smelled, and sounded like