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By:K.L. Kreig

Oooookay. Enough of this shit. “Okay. So where exactly is she being held?”

Kate looked into his eyes and shook her head, like she expected this doubt. “It doesn’t work that way, Detective. I only see what the dream lets me see. I’m sorry, but all I can describe to you is the cell where she’s being held. I can try to describe the men that I’ve seen with her as well.”

“Can you describe Sarah? Anything unique about her?” He needed to end this. Right now.

“Well, it’s very dark. And of course I’ve seen her picture on the news as well, but she has reddish blond hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail. She’s only in white panties and a white cami.”

A witness identified her as wearing a turquoise sweater and dark skinny jeans. Shit, she was really whacked. Just his luck. He was just scooting his chair back to escort Ms. Martin out, when the next thing out of her mouth stopped him cold. It felt like ice water was just shot into his veins.

“I can also see she’s wearing a silver horseshoe necklace and she has a cross tattoo on her right shoulder blade.”

Goosebumps broke out all over his body. Sarah had a silver horseshoe necklace. She loved horses. It was a high school graduation gift from her parents and they said she never took off. And she did have a tattoo of a cross, in memory of her younger brother who died of leukemia at the tender age of eight. But none of those details had been released to the public.

As their eyes locked, she whispered, “Sarah’s not the only one missing. I’ve seen others. Held at the same place.”

Chapter 4


Immediately upon closing the door to the interrogation room where the lovely, but possibly loony, Ms. Martin waited, Mike whipped out his cell phone and dialed Renaldo Hargrave, Lord-fucking-Devon’s half-wit side-kick.

He hated dealing with bloodsuckers. Loathed them. In the last ten years since he’d discovered their existence, he’d learned many things. About them. About himself. About the lengths he was willing to go for revenge.

Vampires were the devil incarnate. Devon and Renaldo tried convincing him that most vampires were not evil. Most wanted a peaceful existence alongside humans, albeit their existence unknown to most humans. To live, thrive, find their mates, have a family. They tried convincing him that they would be foolish to kill their life sustaining food source. But he’d witnessed differently. He knew differently. Vampires were indiscriminate killers who could turn on you on a dime. Take your life at will, with no remorse. He knew firsthand. He knew in his gut they were responsible for taking someone very precious to him almost eleven years ago.

He had failed her. He could barely live with himself most days. But he would avenge her. That was his life’s mission now. After he succeeded, he didn’t care what happened to him. Death was constantly on his doorstep, and after his revenge, he would let that bitch cross.

Mike didn’t stay alive these past eleven years by not trusting his gut, and based on what Ms. Martin had just told him, his gut was screaming this was the work of vamps. Would this be the one? Could he finally get his revenge? He hoped so, because he was so very weary. Then he would gladly let death take him and spend eternity burning in the pits of hell, where he deserved to be for failing her.

And it couldn’t be a coincidence that Renaldo had called him on this very case yesterday. A call that he had yet to return. So like it or not, which he most definitely did not, he needed them.

What Kate Martin told him sat like acid in the pit of his stomach. The police had intentionally kept the necklace and tattoo out of the media. The fact that she knew about them meant she knew more about this case than she was letting on. He wasn’t convinced about the dreams, but she definitely knew something more than what she was saying. That much he could tell.

When she mentioned that there were others…his blood ran cold. A low curse fell from him lips as a sickening feeling of deja vu swept over him.

Yes, his gut was wailing loudly now. Something wasn’t right here and he was damned well gonna get to the bottom of it. And hopefully—finally—get his bittersweet revenge.



Kate sat in the small, sterile room, alone, waiting for Detective Thatcher to return. The room had a one-way mirror on the wall directly across from her and she couldn’t help the feeling that she was being watched. Or that something monumental was about to happen.

After she’d told her story, he asked her to wait and hastily exited the room. In relaying her story to the detective, she’d conveniently left out the fangs, vampires and evil sensations, which she knew would get her a one-way ticket to the funny farm. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.