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looked. He cultivated that appearance for just such situations.
    He ran into the woods and desperately looked for a place to hide. He was an expert at hiding places; he’d spent his whole life seeking them out. He practically dove at the base of a tree, knowing instinctively that there was a tree well beneath the thatch of leaves. In seconds, he had concealed himself.
    One of the men had followed him, but he’d been behind a screen of trees when Billy made his move and was now turning around and around in the clearing, searching intently. His eyes looked as if they were glowing, and Billy surmised that the creature could see in the dark. Cam had been right. Monsters. Billy realized that he wasn’t really surprised, that he’d somehow always known things like this existed.
    Now the monster was sniffing, as if he could smell Billy. He turned toward the tree and Billy froze, but then he moved on, and finally, he angrily shook himself like a dog that had just lost a fight. “Shit!” the monster said, and ran back toward the pickup.
    Stay where you are, Billy thought. Don’t fucking move. But he heard Cam screaming, and before he knew it, he was digging himself out of his hole and crawling back toward the road.
    He lay flat on the ground and watched helplessly.
    They’d pushed Cam and Patrick against the truck and were standing in front of the two quivering men as if soaking in the fear their victims were radiating.
    The driver of the pickup stood a little off to one side, as if he enjoyed watching his friends, almost as if he was supervising them. He was slender, with floppy brown hair and black-rimmed glasses. “They’re all yours,” the driver said. “You won’t believe the rush.”
    The smaller of the other two guys turned toward him. “What do we do, Stuart?” he asked.
    “You eat them, dumbshit.”
    The biggest of the attackers moved first, closing in on Patrick, who screamed as loudly as he could, as if he was actually expecting someone to hear him and save him. His scream was cut off as the monster bit into Patrick’s neck and tore out his windpipe.
    Meanwhile, Cam had sunk to the ground, and even from this distance, Billy could tell he had voided himself. The other two monsters––vampires, for that’s what they were, Billy finally admitted to himself––fell on him from either side, and Billy saw chunks of flesh flying into the air. Cam didn’t make a sound.
    Billy couldn’t watch any longer. He crawled back to the tree well and hid for the rest of the night, alternating between shaking, crying, and cursing.
    But through it all, he vowed revenge.
     
     

 
    Chapter 8
     
    Terrill had barely closed the front door behind him when he shouted, “I’ve found her!”
    Sylvie appeared from the kitchen, her face lighting up. “For sure?”
    “She’s in Crescent City,” Terrill continued. “She even used her own name.”
    He’d been serving up stew at the soup kitchen in St. Francis when Perry appeared at his side and said, “You need to come with me.”
    Terrill handed the ladle to one of the cooks and followed Perry into the dining room. An old guy was sitting by himself in the corner. Terrill slowed down, sensing that the man had recently experienced some kind of trauma. I hope it wasn’t Jamie, he thought. No, what am I saying? I hope it was Jamie!
    The story came out of the man reluctantly. His name was Billy, and it was clear that he didn’t trust anyone in authority, even someone at a soup kitchen. But Perry kept murmuring reassurances, and eventually Billy came out with it. Jamie, as it turned out, was only incidentally involved.
    The story was as bad as anything Terrill had ever heard. These vampires were wild, completely untrained. It was probable that Jamie had created them, by not taking the proper precautions, by breaking Rule Two: Never leave the remains of a kill. It was all the more reason to find her and bring her home.
    “You’re saying she’s one of them?” Billy said,