chapter 1

i hear your voice

The voice at the other end of the diner's long counter broke into Victor's private reveries.

"I'm looking for work. I'm good at a lot of things," she told the cook who was wiping his hands on a towel.

"I'll bet you are," the overweight guy told her-he was former Navy if the tattoo meant anything.

And they usually did.

"I've done short-order and waitressing before. I served, too," she gestured. "Medical corps."

"Yeah? How's your service record?"

"Impeccable."

He sneered. Victor understood the feeling. If she was white as the new-fallen snow, how come she was looking for work in this place? Especially with the kind of training the military gave its medical personnel. Add to that the pricey jacket, the good boots, and the well-bred mannerisms and things didn't add up. She should be looking for Joe-College and raising a passel of kids.

The cook/owner of the joint looked her up and down. "You never get in any trouble at all?"

"If I did I was smart enough not to get caught."

He laughed, throwing back his head. "All right, kid. I'll get you the forms. You can start tomorrow. Tonight if you're hungry."

"Tomorrow's fine. I can spend the day looking for somewhere permanent to stay."

"Just let me get copies of your i.d. and all for the books. You know the IRS..."

Victor watched out of the corner of his eye as the woman reached out for the man's arm. Her eyes were imploring.

"I'd rather do this under the table," she told him softly.

"No dice, baby. Everything's above-board here."
"You can't pay me in cash?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You in trouble? This place is all I got. I don't want any trouble here."

"I'm not trouble," she whispered forlornly. "I just need to fly under the radar."

"You hiding from the government?"

She shook her head. "I told you I wasn't in trouble."

The big guy sighed. Victor could see when the woman decided it was a lost cause. "I'd like to help you..."

"It's okay," she told him, even reaching out to pat his arm. "I understand."

"If you leave me your number I'll ask around, see if anybody around here's got anything."

"I don't have one yet. But thanks," she told him. She rose, reaching into her back pocket for bills to cover her meal.

"No-that one's on me," the guy told her. Victor gave him big points for decency.

"It's all right," the young woman smiled. "I'm nowhere near there yet. Give it to the next sad story you get in here."

Victor tracked the young woman to her motel room.

He caught the door just as she pushed it open. To his surprise she ducked under his arm and rounded on him, not seeming perplexed at all that he was there.

"Come on, jackass," she taunted as she took a half-crouched stance. "Let's work out some frustration."

Victor's eye gleamed. Something in this woman called to him. It wasn't the usual heat he felt low in his belly. But he planned to get there. It had been a while since he'd indulged in any extracurricular activity.

His lips parted to bare teeth in what could only be called a smile by the most generous of observers. To his adversary it looked like what it was-an eager snarl. She hissed at him and he nearly laughed.

"What the hell is that?"

Now it was her turn to grin. "Trust me, mister. You're going to end up wishing you had just walked right on by here."

"I doubt that. I think I'm probably going to enjoy this very much."

Victor lunged at her, catching her around the waist, and flung her in the direction of the bed. She turned her body halfway there, her feet digging in as she launched herself his way. Her jab caught him in the face, her kick in the gut. And her flinch gave him just a moment of pause when he caught her foot and twisted violently.

Ella let the motion bring her around, moving with it rather than resisting and ending up with a broken ankle.

"You're going to regret this," she told him as he loomed over her. "You're not going to be able to kill me. You may be bigger and you may be stronger, but I'm not dying. And I can take as long as I want to get my revenge."

Victor managed to secure her wrists when she brought her hands up at his face. "Then we may be here a while," he taunted. "I am the thing that goes bump in the night. All the monsters your mother warned you were out there. The thing that makes your father reach for his gun." He lowered his face to her ear and hissed. "No gun can kill me."

She surprised him again when she cocked her head, her expression considering. She looked at his neck where she knew she'd caught him good with her nails. He was wondering about the implications when her teeth came down-hard-on his forearm.

Which may or may not have had the desired effect. He dropped her, but he also smacked her so hard that her head hit the wall on the far side of the room.

"What the hell are you?" he spat, squatting to force her mouth open. His hand was healing, but the puncture marks of her teeth were still plain. There they were, the impression of eyeteeth typically given to creatures of the wilds.

She growled, which was considerably less forceful since her vision had yet to clear. "Your worst nightmare," she told him weakly.

Victor sat back on his heels and looked at her. "When you said-before-did you say you weren't dying or that you couldn't die?"

"I'm not dead yet," she panted. "And I'll be damned if you're going to kill me."

"Huh." He reached out to offer his hand. "I'm going to say this once and trust me when I say that it's not something that often comes out of my mouth…

"I apologize."