Author's Note: Thanks to those who read and reviewed Part Two. Means a lot. Glad you liked it, and here's Part Three. Part Four will be the last; nice, round, even number.

They practically skidded around all the corners, dove through the crowds and dodged carriages all the way to the medical examiner's office, too eager to get there to worry about irritating people on the way. Regardless of the dozens of angry glares they received on the way, the two almost tumbled onto the scene, shocked at what awaited them.

"Oh god, we're too late…" Tom shook his head, looking around at all the officers already present in and outside the building. There was a body outside the door… Lancaster. And his throat had been torn out.

Huck cursed quietly under his breath, and some of the officers turned their eyes in the direction of the two agents, almost accusingly.

"We can't tell them… they'll never believe us." Tom spoke quietly, trying not to show his movements too much, even as they approached warily. "What happened?" he asked openly, brow furrowed in dismay, his expression speaking of the horror of the situation.

"Someone heard him screaming in the early hours of the morning," one of the officers revealed. "When we arrived, we found him here, in the same condition as the victims from the previous attacks."

"Um…" Huck began warily, worried about the response his query would gain as he continued, "the other victims… are they… are they all there?"

"I beg your pardon?" The policeman seemed far from amused, but Huck and Tom didn't waver.

"Just answer the question," Tom pressured, almost pleadingly.

"Well, if you must know such a bizarre fact… one of them is gone."

Huck cringed. "Which one?"

"What? What does it matter which one was stolen?"

"Please, it's important…" Tom couldn't stop the slight despair that began to lace his voice as he met gazes with the senior officer, one he recognised to be called Lloyd.

Lloyd cocked his head. "It was one of the women…"

"Miss Fletcher, the fifth victim?"

Lloyd nodded in confirmation. "Just up and vanished. We think the murderer… came back to claim the body for some devilish reason. Poor Lancaster probably tried to fight him off, and paid for it with his life."

Tom and Huck nodded grimly. It was as they thought… which meant that their fears were coming into being. Young Miss Amy Fletcher hadn't been stolen… the dark-hailed beauty had been turned by their original culprit, more than likely, and had made her own way out of the offices of Mr. Lancaster, killing him on the way, probably to add to her own strength until she could find shelter.

Looking down with a frown on the poor man's body, Huck looked back up to Lloyd and said confidently, "We'll catch him."

"Of course we will," Lloyd growled. "We can't have some sick bastard like this on the streets. There'll be hell to pay with the masses if it gets out we have no clue who he is."

Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair, before he said, "Is there any way we could find a record of newcomers to the city?"

Lloyd shrugged miserably. "People come and go every day, Agent Sawyer. It's a busy city, New York… always somethin' goin' on. Trying to track down arrivals is like… needles in a haystack. A constantly changing stack, at that."

Huck scratched the back of his head pensively. "What about foreigners? Foreigners at dock? Would there be any way to track those kinda folk?"

"Maybe… but you'd have to check around that area for the dock master; speak with captains of ships who've arrived recently to see what kinda passengers they've had. They're always bringing in strange types of people from all over." Lloyd's gaze became clouded with irritation. "Should be a law against it all."

Tom and Huck nodded subconsciously, and uttered their thanks before shuffling off to head towards the docks, calling a carriage as they hit the street, and climbing in. As they went, they talked over their strategy discreetly, so as not to be overheard by the rather stoic driver.

"We've gotta be extra careful now there's two of 'em," Tom was saying as he shifted in his seat. "The book said somethin' about hypnotism. When we find out who and where they are, we've gotta make sure not to make eye contact, or we'll be at risk."

"It frightens me that you remember all this stuff, Tom," Huck teased as he gazed to his friend from his own perch. "You recall the strangest things." He laughed. "But it sure comes in handy sometimes!"

When they reached the dock, after paying their driver, the two of them headed off along the promenade to try and find captains to converse with as to who their vampire could be…

"Not much of a name though, is it?" Huck muttered, looking down at the page where Tom had jotted notes. "Russoff… what kind of name is that?"

"It's European, most likely," Tom offered confidently as they opened the door to their hotel room. There had been a message for them at the desk, from headquarters in Washington, asking of their progress. They had cabled back prizing them of their progress, but… had 'neglected' to include the finer, supernatural-influenced details. "And we got a vague description, so we know what we're lookin' for now, at least."

"It's better than what we had… which was next to nothin'." Huck nodded and slipped off his jacket, still holding the small book in his hand. Tom's handwriting was always better than his own, which was why the younger – and more learned – spy always took the notes. He looked over the description in question. "Dark hair and eyes; tall; rough demeanour." Shrugging, he added sceptically, "A little vague though, ain't it?"

"Like you said, Huck, it's better than nothin'," Tom said, and gazed around. "I'm gonna go down and get us somethin' to eat. I'll be back in a while." With that, he left the room, and Huck propped himself on the edge of his bed, looking down at the notes curiously. He chewed on his bottom lip gently as he thought it all over, and leaned back against the headboard for a while, his boots now rested on the mattress. Cleanliness was nowhere in his priorities right now, and he barely noticed the two light stains he was leaving on the blankets.

As he sat there, a light rain started to fall from the darkening sky, and clouds rumbled with approaching thunder. The lightning was slow in following, but it wanly lit the heavens as it threatened. Huck subconsciously ignited a lamp without taking his eyes from the notes, even as running feet could be heard coming closer to the room. He knew that stride…

Tom flung himself into the room, eyes wide with either intrigue or fear – or perhaps an odd mix of both – and he declared, "I saw her!"

Huck quirked a brow up near his hairline, and asked, "Saw who?"

Tom fumbled into the room, nearly falling over one of the bags they had brought with them in his haste to get to the foot of Huck's bed, leaning on the frame as he repeated, "I saw her!" Shaking his head, he revealed, "Amy Fletcher!"

"What?" Huck shot up from the bed. "Where? When? What?" Shaking his head, he put the notebook down before he hit himself with it, and grabbed a hold of Tom, repeating clearly "Where?"

"She was standing outside the door, staring at me like some kinda wraith!" Tom said, pulling himself free of Huck's steadying grip and moving briskly to the window. He looked out of it as he said, "She was so pale… but she had blood on her lips, and her eyes… god her eyes were red like fire."

With a yell, he cast himself back from the window, even as bats flocked outside it, and wide-eyed, the two agents stared into the moving cloud amidst the falling rain.

A face… there was a face amongst the small fangs and fluttering wings… and it was smiling at them.

It was Amy Fletcher.

"Jesus Christ," Huck cursed, and stumbled backwards, fumbling to grab one of his pistols from its holster, when Tom failed to. He just kept staring, in shock or horror… or awe.

"Tom, get away from the window!" Huck bellowed at him, and when his friend failed to move, he fired the shot anyway, the bullet flying an inch over his partner's shoulder and smashing into the window, outward into the flock, which wailed and swarmed away. The rain fell into the room now as a few shouts were heard from down the hall, and Huck quickly put his gun back, even as the landlord cast himself into the room, fury in his eyes, proclaiming about property damage and reimbursement.

"You'll get paid for the repairs!" Huck yelled at him, and shoved him out of the room as politely as possible with further assurances as to his concerns. Walking back to the window, he grabbed Tom roughly, and hauled him around, shaking him. "Wake up, dammit! What's the matter with you?"

Tom blinked rapidly and then shook his head fiercely, pulling a face as though he had just awoken from a doze. "Sorry… sorry," he rambled quietly. "What… is she gone?"

"Yeah, she's gone. I had to shoot at her through the window, hence the breakage and commotion, but I told you to move, Tom. Why didn't you move?"

Tom looked from the shattered and ruined window to his friend, with troubled eyes. "You… I-I didn't hear you."

Huck's hands gripped onto Tom harder, and he commanded eye contact with the tone in his voice, "Tom… remember her eyes. Don't look in her eyes, remember? You told me that. She'll… she'll do somethin' to you. You're the expert on this. Just… don't do it, okay?"

Tom nodded with another apology, looking more ashamed than anything else, even as Huck was pulling on his jacket again, and pushing his hat onto his head. He tossed Tom's to him, and then claimed his rifle. Tom picked his up from under the bed, and after checking for bullets and supplying themselves with extras, they started to head out the door, pushing past the people who had gathered. Huck practically growled at them for their 'interest', and they shifted from around them like a parting wave.

"The church…" Tom began in a rushed voice. "We have to get to the church."

Tom stared at the cross for a long time, even as the Father assured him he take it. They had told him only of a dark evil, and said they had needed protection. The man had seemed only too willing to help in the name of the Lord, and had given them whatever they had asked for. Holy water, crosses… they had some of each in their pockets, tucked away and hidden from view.

Even as he thanked the man and turned to leave, the Father grabbed his hand and slipped something into it. Tom faltered as the holy man walked away, wondering if he had known all along what was happening… before looking down into his uncurling hand.

A crucifix on a chain.

Huck pushed out into the downpour again, saying over the din to his partner, "You think he'll be out tonight? In this?" He indicated skyward with the barrel of his Winchester, and his partner nodded vacantly.

"Yeah… he'll need to feed, and so will she." Gazing around, the younger man looked grim and cautious. "Besides… she seemed quite interested in us, don't you think? She might be followin' us."

"Oh you always know exactly how to comfort me, Tom," Huck grumbled in light humour, and the two moved away from the church and into the dark streets of empty New York. Only drunks and street-women were out tonight, but even these were few, as if the atmosphere were too intense and heavy for them… combined with the weather, it was quite a deterrent.

"If you want my opinion, which I know you do, even if you don't ask for it," Huck began with a chuckle, rain running off the peak of his hat, "I think Amy seemed more interested in one of us than the other, personally."

Tom looked down at him with a frown, seeming to understand exactly what was intended by that statement. Lightning flashed overhead, and just on the tip of a roof's edge at the end of the street, they saw a flutter of bats. "There!" Huck indicated with a jab of his hand in its direction. "C'mon!" He took off at a brisk run, with Tom right on his heels.

As they ran, neither of them noticed the pale and beautiful figure up near the roof of the church, red eyes piercing through the foul weather at the two young men.

To Be Continued…