Frank Di Giorgio was waiting for Cara when she entered the kitchen the following morning.

"I'll be driving you wherever you want to go again today," he said.

Cara nodded. She didn't have to ask why. The creature was still out there somewhere. She hoped it had left town, then felt guilty for doing so. Who knew what havoc it might cause in another city? Then again, maybe they were all worrying for nothing. For all they knew, it might be harmless now that Serafina was dead.

Cara fixed breakfast for herself and Frank, put the dishes in the dishwasher, left a quick note for her mother, and grabbed her handbag.

Di Giorgio followed her outside and held the door to the Lexus open for her. "Where to?" he asked.

"Vince's."

Cara stared out the window as Di Giorgio pulled out of the driveway. She had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning as she replayed Vince's leave-taking in her mind, unable to shake the feeling that he hadn't been saying good night but good-bye. She told herself she was wrong, that he wouldn't walk out of her life like that again, but she didn't believe it. She was certain he was hiding something from her, but

what?

She was out of the car before it came to a full stop, a surge of relief sweeping through her when she saw that the security door was open. He was still here! Chiding herself for her foolish fears, she hurried inside, only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw that his car was gone. Then she noticed that his big red toolbox was also missing, and that Cat wasn't curled up on a corner of the desk.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Cara stared at the man walking toward her. He wore a pair of overalls and carried a paintbrush in one hand. "Who are you?"

"Max Felton; I own this building."

"I'm looking for Vince Cordova," she said, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Vince, yeah. He called me late last night and said he was moving out and he wouldn't be back." The man shook his head. "I got here around seven this morning and he was already gone. He must have taken off in the middle of the night."

"Do you know where he went?"

"Sorry, I sure don't."

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. "Did he leave any messages for anyone?"

"Not that I know of."

"Thank you." Feeling as though her heart was breaking, she walked back to the car.

Di Giorgio was there to open the door for her. "Where to now? "

"Just take me home. My home," she clarified.

With a nod, Di Giorgio closed the door.

Cara stared out the window, scarcely aware of anything around her. He was really gone this time, with no goodbye and no hope of her ever seeing him again. This time it was final; she felt it in the deepest part of her being.

A short time later, Di Giorgio pulled up in front of her place. Opening the door, he handed her out of the car and followed her up the walkway and into the house. He went from room to room, making sure everything was as it should be.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," he said.

Cara nodded. She felt suddenly old and dried up, as if all the life had been sucked out of her body.

Frank patted her shoulder, his eyes filled with compassion. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She nodded again, too numb to speak. All she could think of was that Vince had left her. Again. Only this time it was for good. She moved woodenly through the house, watering her wilted plants, dusting the furniture, vacuuming the carpets, and all the while, the words, "he's gone, he's gone," repeated themselves in her mind over and over again.

After putting the vacuum away, she went into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. She stared at the floor, more unhappy than she had ever been in her life, hardly aware of the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

Vince was gone and nothing else mattered.

Frank Di Giorgio stretched his arms over his head, then checked his watch. It was a quarter past three.

Cara had been inside for almost four hours. He wondered what she was doing in there now. The last time he had looked in on her, she had been vacuuming; that had been almost an hour ago. She was a sweet thing. Too bad life had handed her such a raw deal. Of course, there were those who would think she had it pretty easy. She lived in a big house, she had lots of money, and enough clothes for a passel of females. Still, it couldn't be easy, having vampires for parents.

Rising, he stretched the kinks from his back and shoulders, then decided to take a turn around the yard to stretch his legs.

He paused when he reached her bedroom window. Moving closer, he listened but heard nothing. Maybe she was asleep.

He had just reached the corner of the house when the short hairs prickled along the back of his neck.

Drawing his gun, he spun around, his finger on the trigger.

For a split second, Frank and the creature stared at each other, and then Frank pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the creature in the heart, but it had no visible effect. Frank fired again and yet again.

He was about to pull the trigger a fourth time when Anton stepped out from behind the creature and, with a flick of his wand, sent the gun flying out of Di Giorgio's hand.

With a guttural cry, Frank lunged toward Anton.

And then everything went black.

She was dreaming. Vince had come for her and he was carrying her away. Smiling, she tried to wrap her arms around his neck, only her arms wouldn't move. Frowning, she tried again, but to no avail.

Opening her eyes, she saw the creature staring down at her.

Cara screamed and screamed again, trying to wake herself up.

And then, to her horror, she realized she wasn't asleep.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, but the creature was still there, staring down at her, its eyes empty of feeling, of life. There were three neat holes in its white shirt. It took her a moment to realize they were bullet holes. A living man would have been bleeding or dead, but the creature wasn't alive, nor was it Undead, like her parents. It was... she didn't know what it was.

Anton stood beside the thing that had been his father, his face impassive as he watched her.

She tried to move, only then realizing that she was in what looked like a basement and that she was lying on the floor, her hands and feet bound behind her.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," Anton said.

"Wh... what do you mean?" She hated the quiver in her voice, the way her body shook with fear.

"I promised my mother I would avenge my father's death, and now I must avenge her, as well, thanks to you."

"Where are we?"

"My father's house."

"Where are the people who lived here?" she asked, certain she wasn't going to like the answer.

He glanced toward the far corner.

Cara followed his gaze, her stomach churning when she realized that what looked like a pile of smelly clothing covered by a sheet was in reality the house's former occupants. "You killed them?"

"No, I'm afraid the creature did that." He smiled. "It seems fitting, don't you think? My father died here, at your father's hands, and now you'll die here, at my father's hands." He laughed softly, maniacally. "It's perfect, don't you think?"

She was cold, so cold, and it had nothing to do with the cement floor beneath her. She was going to die, here, in this place, and there was no one to save her this time, no one who even knew where she was.

"Please..."

"I'll be back when it's over."

"Anton! Please! Wait! Please, don't do this!"

But it was too late. He was gone and she was alone with a monster.

Vince prowled the confines of the room he had rented, his agitation growing with every passing minute as he waited for darkness to shroud the land. Cat sat on the windowsill, regarding him through unblinking yellow eyes.

For the last hour, Vince had tried to summon Cara's image and come up empty. The fact that he couldn't find her, couldn't sense her, filled him with quiet terror. Did it mean she was too far away? Unconscious?

Or... he refused to consider the possibility that something had happened to her. And yet what other reason could there be?

It was not yet sunset when Vince left the house. The last rays of the sun singed his skin, but he paid no heed to the pain as he traveled with preternatural speed toward the DeLongpre's house.

Brenna answered the door, her welcoming smile fading when she saw the stark expression on his face.

"Vince, is something wrong?"

"Where's Cara?"

"I don't know. I thought she was with you."

"Me? No. What gave you that idea?"

"She left me a note saying she was going to see you."

"How long ago was that?"

"I don't know. I just found it a few minutes ago."

Vince muttered an oath. Why was it that every time he left the girl, she got into trouble?

"She must be all right," Brenna said. "I mean, Frank's with her. If something was wrong, he would have called unless..."

"Unless he couldn't," Vince said flatly.

"We've got to find her," Brenna said.

"Let's go," Vince said. "We'll start at the garage."

It took them only moments to travel across town and ascertain that Cara wasn't there. The garage was closed; there was no sign of Di Giorgio or Cara, no sign that there had been foul play.

"Maybe she's gone to her house," Brenna suggested.

A thought took them there. "She's here!" Brenna said. "Look, there's Frank's car."

Brenna ran up the stairs and into the house, with Vince on her heels.

"Cara?" Brenna called. "Cara, where are you?"

A quick search of the house turned up nothing, but she had been there. Vince was certain of it. Where could she be? Cursing softly, he went out the back door.

He found Di Giorgio's body wedged in a corner behind the shed and the back fence. The man's neck was broken.

Coming up behind Vince, Brenna murmured, "Oh, no." A single blood-red tear slid down her cheek.

"Poor Frank." She clenched her hands at her sides. "I wish Roshan was here."

"Where is he?"

"Gone to ground," she said.

Vince nodded. It was what he had expected. "What do you want me to do with the body?"

Brenna shook her head. "I don't know. We should probably report this to the police."

"Later," Vince said tersely. Di Giorgio was dead. Nothing could be done for him now. "Let's take him inside," he said, picking up the body. "You can worry about notifying the police after we find Cara."

Brenna followed him into the house. While she went looking for something to cover Frank, Vince carried the body into the laundry room and laid it on the floor.

"Where do we look now?" Brenna asked, covering Di Giorgio with a sheet.

"Damned if I know." Vince closed his eyes, his preternatural senses expanding, searching. Cara? Cara, dammit, darlin', where are you?

He was about to admit defeat when his blood stirred and he felt the latent connection between himself and Cara shimmer to life.

Brenna laid her hand on his arm. "Vince, what is it?"

"Wait!" He gathered his power around him and felt the connection grow stronger as every fiber of his being reached out to Cara.

"Vince, we're wasting time."

"Come on," he said, and headed for the door.

"Where are we going?" Brenna asked, hurrying after him.

"I don't know, but Cara's there."

So saying, he set off down the street, not stopping until he came to a house set on a hill.

"There," he said. "Cara's in there."

Brenna felt a chill skitter down her spine as she stared up at the house that had once belonged to Anthony Loken, the inside of which she had hoped never to see again. A quick melange of images flashed through her mind: Anthony Loken standing over her, a demonic smile on his face as he cut a gash in her arm, his eyes glittering with madness as he and Myra watched the wound heal; the look of surprise on Myra's face when Loken killed her; the sight of Myra's body sprawled on the floor like a pile of dirty laundry. So much misery and death, Brenna thought, and all because Anthony Loken had thought he'd created an elixir that would allow him to live forever and he didn't want to share it.

"I'm going in," Vince said.

"And I'm coming with you."

With a nod, Vince moved toward the fence. He took hold of two of the iron bars, widening the space between them. He ducked inside, with Brenna on his heels. Moments later, they reached the front door.

Brenna glanced around. There were a couple of old newspapers scattered on the front porch.

The door was locked, of course. Vince swore impatiently. The lock was no problem, but the threshold was. He glanced over his shoulder at Brenna. "Now what?"

"I've been here before," she said. "Maybe I don't need an invitation."

Then again, maybe she did, since the house had changed owners. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try. A bit of vampire magic unlocked the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. "There's something dead in there,"

Vince muttered.

Brenna nodded. "And it's been dead for a day or so. Come on."

She crossed the threshold without any trouble. Whatever power it had once held had been negated; by what, she didn't know.

Vince followed her inside, surprised that he felt no shimmer of power as he entered the house. Inside, the stench of death was stronger.

Vince moved through the dark house, as unerring as a cat, the scent of Cara's blood like a road map to his vampire senses.

The trail led to a door which led to a set of steps. Wary now, Vince moved silently down the stairway into the basement. Something unnatural stirred in the air, a leftover vestige of magical power.

He moved deeper into the basement, a low growl rising in his throat as he rounded a collection of old furniture and boxes and came face to face with the creature, but it was Cara who held his attention. She was huddled on the cement floor at the creature's feet, her eyes wide with fear as she stared up at it.

Oblivious to anything else, it reached for Cara's neck, its hand closing around her throat.

With a wild cry, Vince launched himself at the husk that had been Anthony Loken and the two of them crashed to the floor.

Brenna hurried to Cara's side. "Are you all right?"

Cara nodded, thinking she had never been so glad to see anyone in her whole life. Her mother untied her wrists and she groaned softly as blood rushed into her hands. Brenna made short work of the rope that bound Cara's ankles, then effortlessly lifted Cara to her feet.

"Vince," Cara murmured, horrified to see him locked in a deadly embrace with the creature. "We've got to do something!" She took a step forward, her own safety forgotten in fear for Vince's life. No mortal man could overpower that thing!

Brenna grabbed her daughter's arm. "No."

"Let me go!" Cara struggled to free herself. She couldn't stand by and watch him die. She just couldn't!

"You will not interfere," Brenna said, exerting her preternatural powers on her daughter for the first time.

"You will do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?"

Cara nodded, confused by her sudden lack of willpower. She wanted to go to Vince, to help him fight the creature, but she couldn't move; she could only stand there, watching helplessly as he drove his fist into the creature's face and body, seemingly with no effect at all.

She screamed when the creature picked up a crowbar and brought it crashing down on Vince's back.

She sobbed when Vince fell to the floor, certain that his back had been broken, only to watch in disbelief as he rolled nimbly to his feet and launched himself at the creature again.

Deciding that the battle had gone on long enough, Brenna pulled her lipstick from her skirt pocket and quickly drew a summoning circle on the floor. She didn't know what kind of spell Anton had cast on the creature; all she could do was hope that her magic was stronger than his. Using an incantation she had learned as a child, she summoned the creature to the circle.

As she spoke the words, "So say I, so mote it be," the creature slowly turned away from Vince. Moving woodenly, it stepped into the circle, then stood motionless, its empty eyes focused on Brenna.

"What the hell," Vince murmured.

"I haven't practiced my witchcraft in years," Brenna said, smiling. "I'm glad it still works."

"Yeah, me, too." Vince looked at Cara, who stood there as motionless as the zombie. "What did you do to her?"

Brenna shrugged. "It was the only way to keep her from joining the fight." With a snap of her fingers, she released Cara from her spell.

"Vince!" Cara ran to him, her hands lightly exploring his back. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"But he hit you with a crowbar!"

Vince shrugged. "It was just a glancing blow. I'm fine." He studied the creature through narrowed eyes.

"What are we going to do about that?"

"I'm going to send it back where it came from," Brenna said, "and then we'll get out of here."

"You're not going anywhere."

Cara shuddered as Anton stepped into view, a gun in his hand.

"Well, now," Anton drawled. "Isn't this cozy?"

Vince took a step forward, his anger rising as he came face to face with the man responsible for putting Cara's life in danger.

Anton leveled the gun at Cara's head, his finger curled around the trigger. "I wouldn't," he warned. "Not unless you want her dead."

Vince froze. "So," he asked, his voice like ice, "where do we go from here?"

"First, you back off," Anton said, gesturing with the gun. "And you..." He glanced at Brenna. "You release my father."

"He's not your father," Brenna said. "Send him back to wherever your mother summoned him from."

"Not yet."

"You can't kill me," Brenna said in a reasonable tone. "So send the creature back where it belongs and let us go."

Anton shook his head. "What do you take me for, a fool?"

Vince took another step forward. "Dammit..."

"Back off," Anton said, cocking the pistol. "I'll kill her, I swear I will."

Vince glared at Anton. He was certain he could disarm Bouchard before the bastard could fire the gun and yet, what if he was wrong? He looked at Brenna, who shook her head, silently urging him to wait.

"You can't win, Anton" Brenna said quietly. "No matter what you do, you'll have to face me."

"And me." Roshan DeLongpre materialized in a shimmer of silver motes beside Brenna, his face taut with barely suppressed rage. "Put the gun down, Bouchard."

Anton's face paled as he stared at DeLongpre. The vampire's face, only half-healed from the effects of the silver, was terrible to behold, but far worse was the look of retribution in the vampire's eyes.

Anton looked into those eyes and knew he was a dead man. He looked at the thing that had been his father and knew he would find no help there.

"Let her go," Roshan said.

Anton took a step backward, and then, shouting, "I'll have my revenge," he pointed the gun at Cara's back, his finger tightening around the trigger.

Vince threw himself between Anton and Cara a heartbeat before Anton fired the gun, once, twice, three times.

Vince felt the bullets rip through flesh, piercing his heart and lungs. The impact drove him back against the wall. Momentarily stunned, he slid to the floor.

In the sudden silence that followed, Anton turned and bolted up the stairs.

Roshan glanced at Brenna, then went up the stairs after Bouchard.

"Vince! No, no! Vince!" Running toward him, Cara dropped down on her knees at his side, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at the dark red blood oozing from his chest. She eased his shirt over his head, her stomach roiling as she stared at the ragged holes in his flesh. Cradling his head to her breast, she rocked back and forth. He was dying and it was all her fault! But maybe he didn't have to die.

Cara looked up at her mother, grateful for the first time in her life that her mother wasn't like other mothers. "Mom, please," she begged. "Do something!"

"I am," Brenna said, lifting her wand. "I'm sending this creature back where it belongs."

Cara stared at her mother in disbelief. How could her mother think about that creature when Vince was dying, perhaps dead already?

She looked down at him, her eyes widening with shock when she saw him looking back at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, sitting up.

"I'm... you were..." She glanced at his chest. The ugly holes were growing smaller, the flesh knitting together, until only smooth skin remained. "How...?" She looked up at her mother, then back at Vince.

"My father was right. You're one of them, aren't you?"

Vince nodded. "I wanted to tell you, but..."

Pushing herself away from him, she stood, one hand braced against the wall.

There was a whoosh of supernatural power as Brenna sent the creature back where it belonged.

Cara glanced at the place where the creature had stood, looked at her mother, and then stared at Vince.

Zombies and witches and vampires, oh my. She wondered where her father had gone, but at the moment, it didn't seem to matter. She had to get out of here, she thought desperately, she had to go someplace where she could be alone to sort out her thoughts.

Vince reached out to her, but she brushed his hand away. She wasn't ready to deal with him yet, wasn't sure she ever wanted to see him again.

She took a step and then, feeling suddenly lightheaded, she dropped to her knees, felt herself spiraling down, down, into oblivion.