It would have been just another day in Seattle. It was raining, though not heavily. The streets had that oily film that comes with the first light shower of the day. The sidewalks were equally slick, and in this part of town, equally grimy. And this meant it would have been just another day, even with the corpse lying across the sidewalk near the alleyway entrance. However, there was something unusual about this particular corpse. But it was similar to ones from before.

This was the third one. The third female victim found in the early morning on a street known for its over-abundance of females. In this part of town, murders were not unusual at all. Drug deals gone bad, or drug deals gone well, either way, someone sometimes died as a result. It was the way of the streets. For this part of town, it was accepted. But, not this one. Not the third, or the second, or even the first.

There was a crowd gathered, as there always was at a crime scene of this type. They were curious onlookers hoping to get a glimpse of death. Yellow crime scene tape had been tied to a few light posts and secured to a fire-hydrant, making a triangular shaped area guarded by uniformed patrol officers. A police dog, secure and dry inside a patrol car, barked while his handler stood silently near.

The crime scene technicians were knelt down beside the body. Two plainclothes investigators and another uniformed officer stood near them, all within the boundaries of the tape.

One of the investigators, Melissa Cove, stared hard at the third victim. She had been the lead investigator on the previous two. Both of those had turned up absolutely nothing, beyond a very puzzling crime lab report. And this one looked the same. Female, young, very early-twenties. Definitely a street-walker. Hooker. Whore. Whatever. Drug user. Crack head. Whatever. This one had the same tearing to her neck, over her jugular vein, just like the ones before. Melissa even thought she could see what might have been the blood vessel itself inside the ragged hole through the dead girl's flesh. She fought back the rising bile and looked around the body.

There was no blood. None. She and the other officers had already searched the alleyway. There was no blood there, either. None.

Just like the first two.

Which led Melissa to the logical conclusion: the girl, whore, hooker, whatever, had been killed somewhere else. Or, and this was the one that Melissa didn't want to think about, the killer had drank the victim's blood. Like a vampire.

That was just plain crazy. Even though the lab report from the first two said there was some type of saliva in the wounds. The lab report couldn't define the type of saliva, but stated it was human-like, or had human characteristics, or some such shit.

She watched the guys from the medical examiner's office stuff the corpse into a black body bag. She and the crime scene techs exchanged a few words, and then she went to her car.

The rain coat Melissa wore did little to save her dark brown hair from getting wet. She had pulled it back into a tail, as was customary when she was working. It didn't matter now, she thought, because she was soaked to the skin thanks to the early morning drizzle.

This was number three. They were obviously all killed by the same person. Some sick, twisted sociopath was out there preying on the girls who worked these streets. Some of the police officers didn't think that was such a bad thing. She could understand that kind of attitude, but whatever the case; there was a serial killer on the loose. A killer the newspapers and TV had already labeled "The Vampire Killer".

If they only knew how correct their identification had been.

- - -

It took almost six rings for Michael Stone to answer his cellular phone. He had to change the fishing rod he held to his left hand and dig in his shorts' pocket with his right. He put it to his ear and heard a familiar voice.

"Michael Ivanovich," the voice stated. Stone smiled. The voice belonged to Yuri Pavelovich, a contact for The Organization. The Organization was a secret directive of vampire hunters, funded by many world governments. Their mission was not only to destroy vampires, but to also study and maintain intelligence on them. In other words, they hunted down and killed the ones who threatened humankind, and watched carefully the ones who didn't.

"Yuri," Michael said into the phone. "I'm not catching a damn thing."

"Have you seen the news?" Yuri stated, not bothering to acknowledge Michael's comment about his fishing trip in Florida.

"News?" Michael asked. "Yuri, I'm on vacation. I don't watch the news."

Yuri made a sigh. "Too bad, vanya. Your vacation is going to be cut short. I've emailed you a brief. Read it and comply."

Michael's voice took a serious tone when he replied. "Will do," he said.

Michael ended the call and began to reel his line in. This was going to be a good week, he thought. He had even met a rather nice looking young lady that was staying two doors down from him at his hotel in St. Augustine. And at this point, he knew he would never get to ask her name.

- - -

It had taken a little while for the chartered fishing boat to make its way back to the marina. Michael snatched up his gear, but he had no fish to take with him. Back in his hotel room, Michael plugged in his laptop. When the computer booted, he accessed his email and waited for the encryption algorithms to run. Once the email program had downloaded his message, he read it.

The brief was detailed with newspaper articles and some television video feeds about Seattle's "Vampire Killer". The newspaper headlines caught his attention, as it had no doubt done the same when read by one of The Organization's analysts. The word "vampire", along with several others, was a key word that ran through The Organization's servers. The servers collected information from various news agencies, and if any of the key words came up, these articles and stories were flagged for review. It was one of the many ways the secret society of vampire hunters kept track of their quarry.

Michael read further. He learned he would be using his FBI cover, with an assignment to the Seattle field office. The Seattle Police Department's criminal investigation division had requested a profile to be done on the Vampire Killer. Stone would provide them with just that. He learned his point of contact was an investigator named Melissa Cove. Further details told him his identification and other necessary items would be waiting for him in a hotel room in Seattle.

The Organization was tied into just about every major government in the world. In most cases, these governments had contacts with The Organization at the executive level. This included national law enforcement agencies such as the FBI in the United States and MI5 in the United Kingdom. As a result of this Michael Stone had official status in several different agencies. His training, however, surpassed anything modern law enforcement could provide.

Michael sighed. He wasn't quite ready to leave sunny Florida for rainy Washington. He had no choice, however. His quarter-million dollar yearly salary meant he had to go to work.

He drove his rented car back to the airport in Jacksonville, Florida. He found his plane ticket waiting for him at the Delta counter, and soon he was in the air once again, heading west.

- - -

Michael Stone settled into his hotel room. He unpacked his luggage, and retrieved a briefcase from the closet. Inside was his official FBI identification, as well as the issue FBI sidearm, a Springfield .45 that was designed and built for the FBI Hostage Rescue Team. Not too many agents were issued them as side arms. Stone hoped no one asked too many questions about his choice of carry weapon. The .45 round was necessary, though. It was the preferred ammunition choice for hunters, as The Organization had designed special hyper-fragmentation rounds that were almost explosive in nature. They were the perfect bullets to kill vampires.

Stone power napped for half an hour, then dressed in a navy blue business suit and left the hotel. He took his rented car to the medical examiner's office. His ID let him through to the morgue, where he asked to see the body of the latest victim.

It was as he had read in his brief, but seeing it was much worse. Michael noted with his trained eyes the distinctive tearing of flesh over the jugular vein. The bruising around the site told Michael the vampire had sucked hard, draining the young girl of blood. Michael donned a pair of latex gloves and opened the corpse's eyes. The eyes were glazed over, the pupils fixed and cloudy, the way they should be. This told him the young girl was truly dead, and had not been fed blood from the monster that killed her. She was dead, and would stay that way.

"Toxicology report?" Michael asked the Medical Examiner.

"Evidence of metabolized cocaine," the ME replied. "Typical for where she was found."

"What about the wound? Anything at all?"

The ME got a perplexed look on his face. He shook his head. "Something," he answered, "that I'm not sure about. There was saliva present in the wound. But the DNA doesn't match anything. And I mean it doesn't match anything human. It's almost the same, but there are proteins I've never seen before. Amino acid strands that just do not come from people. It's like they are alien or something." He looked at Michael as if he expected Stone not to believe him.

Michael nodded his head. "Thank you, Doctor," he said. Stone pretended to look the body over once more, as if he was studying for post-mortem details about how she was killed. Actually he had learned all the needed. She was killed by a vampire, and she would not become a vampire herself. He turned to leave, and as he walked out the door into the hallway, he literally bumped into Investigator Melissa Cove.

"Pardon me," Stone said. Melissa stepped back and gave him an accusing look.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Michael retrieved his ID from his inside coat pocket. He opened the leather folder and showed her. "Michael Stone," he said. "I believe you asked for me?"

Melissa sighed. "You're the profiler?"

Stone nodded. She was shorter than he was, but tall enough that he wouldn't have to bend too far to kiss her. He watched her mouth when she talked. She was very pretty, beautiful even, but Stone sensed a hard edge to her. Well, she was a cop, after all.

"What were you doing in the ME's office?"

"Formulating a profile," he said. "Looking at evidence. Cop stuff."

She was clearly exasperated. "And do you have a theory yet, or are you just as lost as the rest of us?"

Michael gave her a slight smile. "I'm working on one," he told her, "but I'd really like to see where she was found, as well as the scenes for the others."

Melissa's face softened a bit, but she still had the edge of someone in a hurry when she spoke. "I'm off duty in about twenty minutes," she told him, "and I was just checking here to see if anything new had turned up." She shook her head, clearly tired. "Tell you what, pick me up at the main station in an hour and I will take you on the tour."

Michael was watching her talk, which he berated himself for later. He couldn't help but wonder how her lips would feel

"Is that okay with you, Agent Stone?"

He mentally slapped himself for loss of concentration. "Yeah," he answered, "that sounds like a plan. See you in an hour," he concluded.

- - -

An hour later, Michael drove the rented Ford Taurus into the neighborhood Melissa had directed him to. The term neighborhood was a loose descriptor. The streets were grimy, and the buildings along them were old, decrepit, and only a few occupied. Stone could see it clearly: a feeding ground for a predator. Michael noticed people gathering on the street corners, obviously prepared to sell whatever to whomever was buying. They seemed oblivious to the fact that any one of them was potential meals for a most hungry stalker.

Melissa showed him the alleyway where the latest victim had been found. Stone parked the car, and they walked a few yards into the alley. When they stopped, Melissa pointed to the dirty concrete below their feet.

Stone noticed they were far enough into the alleyway that, when the street lights came on, very little light at all would make it to where they stood. Stone looked up, seeing a building top about two stories above them, and the opposing one was about another two stories taller. He then knelt to examine the grime beneath him. Melissa knelt, too. "No blood," she said.

Michael nodded.

"Which means what?" she pondered. "She was killed somewhere else and then dropped here?" Melissa looked around. "We even had canines try for a track, but nothing was found".

Michael shook his head slightly. "No," he answered, pointing behind him and then in front, "even with it being night time, I imagine these streets have enough people on them that someone would notice the killer bringing her in here. And a police dog is only as good as the weather will allow. There wouldn't have been a scent trail for them to follow anyway." He sat up and brushed his hands off from where he had touched the filthy pavement. "She was killed here."

"So where's the damn blood?" she asked. "The human body has like 8 pints of blood. So where did it go?"

Stone stood and looked her in the eye when she stood as well. "The killer drank it," he answered. "And the human body has about 11 pints or so."

Melissa sighed and looked at the ground. "So that's your theory? The killer thinks he's a vampire so he drinks his victim's blood?"

Stone looked at her with a serious expression. Melissa felt his stare bore into her, his cold gray eyes piercing and somewhat intimidating. "You've seen the ME's reports, Investigator Cove. How did the victims die?"

"Extreme blood loss," she answered.

"Extreme and very quick," Stone added. "The killer tore open their necks and drank every last drop of blood that they had."

Melissa sighed again, clearly exasperated. "This is fucking crazy," she stated, "to think we really have a serial killer running around that thinks he, or she I guess, is a vampire. I'll put a BOLO out on Count Dracula."

"I don't think telling your patrol officers to be on the look out for Dracula will do much good," Stone told her. He glanced up again, checking the distance to the lowest roof top. Two stories would be an easy jump for a vampire. "We're looking for something that stalks their prey, entices them, attacks very quickly, and then flees with great stealth."

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?"

Stone thought for a moment before he answered her. "Is there a coffee shop nearby?"

She shrugged. "I don't know," she responded.

"Come on, this is Seattle. Surely there's a coffee shop somewhere near here." - - -

They had had to drive for a few minutes, but they found a Starbucks. Michael and Melissa sat across from one another. She had a steaming mocha latte in her hands, while Stone had just finished spooning sugar into his cup of Earl Grey.

"So you think our killer believes he is a vampire?" she asked. "I have to admit, the ME's reports and everything else adds up to that. Some sick sociopath that is so mentally deranged he actually believes he's a walking corpse."

Michael looked at her over the rim of his cup. "The killer doesn't think he's a vampire, he is a vampire."

Melissa almost dropped her latte. "You're kidding, right?" Stone took a sip of his tea and then set his cup on the table. He looked at her impassively. "Oh my God, you're serious!" she exclaimed quietly, aware of the other customers in the shop. "What part of the FBI do you work for, anyway? The X-Files?"

Michael ignored her comments. "How long has it been since the last murder?"

"Four days," she answered.

"It will kill again tonight," Stone stated.

"What makes you say that?"

"Most vampires feed every four days. Although this one seems to over-indulge itself. They really only need a few pints of blood to sustain themselves."

"Okay," Melissa said, setting her latte cup on the table, "let's just say for a minute that this really is a vampire. Why is he, she, it, whatever, stalking around that part of town?"

"Food supply," Michael answered calmly. "The same reason great white sharks stay around small islands when seal mating season occurs. As long as there is a good supply of food, a predator will remain in an area until that supply is exhausted. Or, until it gets scared away. But the lure of an easy kill will commonly keep the predator close to a food source even if there are other threats to it in the area."

"Damn," Melissa said with a low whistle, "you go from Fox Mulder to Nigel what's-his-face from the Discovery Channel in one swipe."

"This isn't the first time something like this has happened in a location similar to what we have here."

"Really? When and where was the last?"

"London," Michael answered. "The Whitechapel area, 1888."

"Jack the Ripper?" Melissa asked, and saw Michael nod. "You're telling me Jack the Ripper was a vampire?"

Stone nodded again.

"This is insane," she stated.

Michael would spend no time trying to convince her. He looked out the window. It was getting dark. He had work to do.

Stone stood up and grabbed his rain coat. Melissa took it as a signal that it was time to leave. They drove in silence. She showed him where she lived, and he told her he would see her in the morning at her office as she got out of the car. He watched her walk up the steps to her apartment. He shook his head to bring himself out of a lustful reverie, then put the car in drive and headed back to his hotel.

Michael made a phone call on his cell while en route to his hotel. The call connected quickly, and the person on the other end listened quietly while Stone placed his order. There was some hesitation at first, and then the person told Michael he would receive his ordered items within an hour. Michael ended the call as he parked his car.

In the hotel room, Stone changed into his black, Kevlar reinforced combat suit. As he was buckling the straps on his boots, there came a knock at the door. Stone grabbed his rain coat and opened the door. There was a very non-descript looking, very large man turned and started walking down the hall. Stone followed him to the elevator. They rode in silence to the parking level. Stone followed him out to a plain, white van. The man opened the rear doors and retrieved a large, rectangular shaped box which he sat down in front of him. The man then turned and walked away without a word.

Stone hefted the box inside the trunk of his Taurus. He then got into the car and drove away.

Michael drove from memory, from when he and Melissa had gone to the crime scenes earlier. When he entered the area, he parked his car in the parking lot of a closed corner store. It was dark, yet not entirely secluded, so he was careful when he removed the box from the trunk. He also grabbed his katana and a small backpack. He ducked into an alleyway, and once he was out of sight, he cut the box open with a pocket knife, and he found a large rifle case inside. He opened the case and checked its contents. The rifle case contained a Robar SR-60 sniper rifle. It was matte black, with a very large ITT Nightvision scope. This rifle was chambered in .300 Winchester magnum, as Stone had requested. There was a box of twenty specially-made .300 rounds with it. Stone pulled one of the rounds of ammunition from its box and looked at it. It was a version of the hyper-fragmentation rounds developed for the .45 auto by The Organization's armorer. This one, however, was designed for a rifle, and was extremely accurate at the high velocities achieved by the .300 magnum cartridge.

Michael removed his raincoat and then opened the backpack. He strapped a small, lightweight rappelling harness on, and then slung the rifle across his back. He did the same to the katana. He then moved quietly down the alleyway, stopping to find an old fire escape. He carefully climbed up it then made his way across the low rooftop to another rooftop. It took him a while to successfully navigate the rooftops, sometimes having the climb down partially in order to reach a fire escape ladder on the next building. Finally, he made it to the roof top he wanted. He now had a good view of the main street that was full of side alleyways, two of which had been the scenes of murders.

Stone took a few moments to get set up, all the while remaining quiet and undetected. He tied a coiled length of black nylon line to a roof fixture, and then threaded it through the carabiner on his harness. This would provide a rapid way to the ground should he need to egress in a hurry. He then unfolded the legs of the rifle's bipod, and set it so the rifle's muzzle would just clear the roof ledge. When he was satisfied that he was well concealed behind the roof's short facing, Stone turned on the night vision scope and looked through it.

Michael discovered there was enough light from the street lamps that he didn't need the scope on at all. He only needed the light amplification feature when he panned the rifle to peer into an alleyway. Otherwise, he could see fine, a little dark in some places, but clear enough to make a shot when the time came.

Stone saw that the people on the street below really didn't care about the fact they were being hunted. He saw drug dealers, prostitutes, and all sorts of what he considered street vermin. It didn't matter, though, about their social status. The fact was there was a vampire stalking this place. And if the vampire killed these people, it could just as easily kill anyone else. Michael Stone was going to make sure that never happened.

He checked his watch as he lay prone behind the rifle. It was nearing midnight. The sky was cloudy, and looked like it was going to rain. Well, he thought, this was Seattle. Starbucks and rain. Oh yeah, and Pearl Jam.

It was an hour later, an hour of constant scanning with his eyes and the rifle scope, when he saw his target. The Organization had trained him to spot vampires. There were subtle traits they had, the way they walked, the way they moved. To everyone else, this one looked just like another Goth wanna-be. But to Michael Stone, the vampire stood out like the full moon.

Michael peered through the ITT rifle scope, watching the vampire as it crossed the street. It was male, about six feet tall. Michael couldn't see the face, but he really didn't care. As the creature stepped upon the curb of the street, Stone centered the crosshairs on the base of its skull. He eased the rifle's safety to the off position. He took a breath, and then exhaled slowly, letting about half of the air out, holding the rest. His mind entered mushin, and he knew nothing but the crosshairs that rested tightly on the vampire's head. As his right index finger touched the trigger and prepared to press it rearward, the vampire turned around, obviously distracted by something in the street. Stone twisted the scope's zoom, bringing the image into wide focus.

A Seattle PD patrol car had stopped in the street. There were two officers in the car. The one on the passenger's side had gotten out, and was gesturing to the vampire. Stone figured out the cop was asking the creature for some identification. Michael zoomed back in on the vampire's face. He settled the crosshairs between its eyes. He was going to take the shot. He didn't know when he would be able to again. It had to be now. He started to apply pressure to the trigger. It would only take two and a half pounds of force to move the trigger to the rear and engage the sear, which would cause the firing pin to fall on the ammunition round's primer. Only two and half pounds of pressure.

But the vampire moved. With a blur, the creature moved from Michael's line of sight through the rifle scope. He backed away from the rifle, scanning the street below with both eyes now. He saw one cop, the one that had spoken to the vampire, start to run across the street towards his location. The officer that was driving had gotten out of the patrol car. Both were now standing in the street, one pointing towards his side and the other gesturing wildly. And then he saw Melissa grab the driver and point towards some buildings not far from where Michael lay.

He didn't know where Melissa had come from, or why she was on the street. What he did know was the vampire had used its superhuman speed to ran quickly away from danger. He had seen Melissa point across the street, seemingly directing the cops to his side, but a few building away. Michael picked up the rifle, folded the bipod, and slung it across his back. He stood, then turned to pull the knot from where he had tied off his harness.

That was when he heard it. Footsteps. Running. Very fast, and with a rush of wind. He was turning around when the vampire hit him in his left side. The force of the blow knocked him over the edge of the roof. Michael was falling.

The edges of his vision began to turn black as pain clouded his sight. His mind worked to focus itself despite the pain. The rappelling line was still attached to him. He reached to his chest, finding the line and closing his fist around it. He tried to roll himself face up, and at the same time he pulled hard against the line. His body straightened, upright, and then the hold he had on the line caught. The resulting jar nearly wrenched his arm out of its socket. Michael caught his breath and looked down. He let go of the line and literally stepped onto the ground.

Michael dropped to his knees. He looked up to the roof from which he had just fallen. There was no one there. The pain in his left side was harsh now. His right arm, around the shoulder, was on fire. He disconnected from the line and was about to stand when the beam of a flashlight caught him.

"Seattle Police!" Melissa yelled. "Show me your hands!"

Michael raised his left hand above his head. He cocked his head to the side and spoke, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't shoot me, Investigator Cove. I've had enough for one night."

Melissa clicked off her light, then stepped close. "What the fuck are you doing?!" she exclaimed.

"My job," he answered. Michael then stood stiffly. He flexed his right arm. It burned, but he recognized it as a sprain and nothing more. His ribs on his left side, though, he wasn't so sure about.

"What happened to you?" Melissa wondered.

Stone told her about being on the roof. She looked up while he was talking, then back at him, her eyes wide. He then told her about the vampire, how he had him dead bang. Stone had figured that when the creature fled from the police officers, it jumped to a rooftop not far from his own, then leapt across them until it came to where he was. Stone postulated the vampire didn't know Stone was there, and when it encountered him, it just figured it would knock him off the roof.

"So where is he now?" Melissa asked.

Stone shrugged, which caused him to wince in pain.

"Come on," she told him, "we need to get you to a hospital."

"Negative," he responded, "I just need to get somewhere I can rest and take care of my injuries."

She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. "Alright, come on then."

They left his car and he went with her to her apartment.

She helped him into a chair in her living room. She watched as he began to remove the black suit.

"What is that? Body armor?" she asked.

Stone nodded. "Yeah, of a type. Its Kevlar, spandex, nylon, reinforced with titanium in places."

"Damn," was all she could say. Stone figured she was awe inspired by the suit's construction. Melissa, however, was remarking on Stone's defined upper body. He wasn't big, like a bodybuilder, but smooth and leanly muscular, like a swimmer. Michael looked down at his left side. There was a nasty bruise there, which hurt like hell when he pressed against it. However, he determined the likelihood of fractures in his ribs was low. Michael retrieved a small bottle of ointment from his backpack. He opened it and asked Melissa for a washcloth.

She returned from the bathroom with one. Stone poured some of the dark colored goo on the washcloth and held it over his ribs.

Melissa wrinkled her nose. "What is that stuff? It smells horrible," she stated.

"Its an ancient Chinese liniment called Dit Da Jow," he explained. "It smells bad, but it heals very well."

She sat across from him on the sofa. "Okay, look," she began, "you've got something to tell me." She indicated the katana and rifle. "What the hell is going on? Who are you?"

Michael took the washcloth away from his side and placed it on the coffee table. "Mind if I use your shower?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually, I do," she replied. "I want to know who you are and who you work for. It sure as hell isn't the FBI!"

Michael sighed. He then told her about The Organization. He told her everything, how it came to exist, what they did, everything. She stared at him the whole time, not moving, not saying a word.

"You saw one tonight, Melissa," he said, pulling back to the conversation, prompting a reaction from her.

She shook her head. "I saw a man," she stated. "A man that can move very, very fast."

Michael leaned close to her. "What you saw was no man. No human can move as fast as that. No human can jump two or more stories onto a rooftop like that."

"Okay," she said, rubbing her temples. "Okay, so say it was a vampire. So why the sword? The rifle? Can't you just use a cross and holy water?" She looked at him, and for the first time noticed he had a small gold crucifix around his neck.

"No," Michael told her, "unfortunately that stuff only works in the movies. Vampires aren't supernatural, although they possess skills that seem supernatural in nature. They aren't beings rejected by death, or God, or anything like that. They are simply a mutation of genetics; another race, a subspecies of homo sapiens. Some even consider them an evolution of mankind. The vampire uses almost all of its brain, we only use on the average of about ten percent. Their unique body chemistry allows them to live an extremely long time, and some may even be truly immortal.

"But, for all of their gifts, they have weaknesses. Sunlight will kill them. A vampire's body heals extremely fast, but it can not heal vast damage that's done quickly. Cutting off the head, burning, or extreme mass trauma will kill them," Stone finished, and he waited.

Melissa touched the crucifix around his neck. "So why do you wear this?"

"That," Stone said, "belonged to my mother."

Melissa smiled. "What happened to her?"

Stone's face lost all expression. His eyes took on that cold, distant look. "She was murdered by a vampire," he stated. He then told her the story of how he was a small child when one night, his father burst into his room. He recalled how his father snatched him out of bed and carried him off into the night. He told how he remembered being cradled in his father's arms as his dad ran. How he looked back at their house and saw it in flames. He explained to her he later learned that a vampire his father had been tracking followed him home and killed his mother.

"So your father is a hunter, too?"

"He was," Michael explained, "but he's retired now. Has a farm he tends to." He stood up. "Can I use your shower, now?"

Melissa pointed to the bathroom. Michael gave a small smile and picked up a small black duffle he had brought from his car. He always traveled with a change of clothes, including an extra combat suit. He took it into the bathroom with him and turned on the shower.

Melissa watched him go. She sat there for a minute, her mind reeling with what she had just been told. Vampires. She wanted so much to not believe it. Michael believed it. That was blatantly obvious. But, she knew what she had seen was real. The only explanation available was the one Michael Stone had given her. And as fantastic as it sounded, it was the only one that made sense. Melissa stood up and went into the bathroom.

Michael was standing in the shower, letting the hot water run over him when he sensed someone else in the room. His eyes opened, and through the shower curtain he saw Melissa's silhouette undressing. The curtain opened slightly behind him, and she stepped in. Neither said a word to each other. Their first embrace was tentative, and Michael held her as she began to sob. He didn't need to ask her why she cried. He knew. He could feel it in her tears, even as the water from the shower washed them away. She cried for him, for the pain he suffered and the path of vengeance he now walked upon. She cried for the victims of the vampire that now stalked her streets, for even though they were far from innocent, they did not deserve to be food for an unholy hunger.

She looked up, her mouth finding his. She relaxed in his arms as their tongues explored each other's mouths, touching, tasting. There was passion in the kiss, but not force. It was tender and sweet.

Michael's hands roamed down her back, across the roundness of her ass, and then to her hips. She felt him hard against her as he pressed her to him. She pulled against his shoulders. Michael moved her backwards, pressing her against the wall of the shower. She involuntarily lifted her right leg, placing her foot on the tub's rim. Keeping himself pressed against her, Michael slid down.

She felt him pressing at her entrance. She was on fire there, throbbing, and she moved her hips around, trying to capture him, hoping to pull him inside. Michael pushed forward, cupping under her lifted thigh to bring her hips in-line beneath his. And at once, he was inside her.

Melissa's mouth formed an "O" shape, her lips pursed as she gave vocalization to her body's reaction as Michael pushed inside her. She held onto him as he began a gentle movement in and out. Her mouth found his again, and she moaned into him as they kissed.

Every time Michael moved into her, she rocked her hips forward, causing the top of him to scrape across her most sensitive spot. She fought against throwing her legs around him, grinding her clit on him until she came. She let him control the pace. He moved inside her so sweetly.

Michael wasn't thinking about anything but how she felt right now. Her tightness and warmth enveloped him, and as he pushed farther inside her, he could feel her muscles deepen. He kept the pace even, not too slow, but not too fast. He knew the constant and consistent friction against her clitoris would have its effect soon enough. And, as he pushed into her, he rolled her hips to meet his, causing him to rub that most sacred and hidden of places deep inside her.

Melissa had her head back against the shower stall now. The words "Oh God," repetitively coming from her. She could feel the heat inside her building. Her legs were starting to tense, but she knew she would not fall because Michael was holding her. She was nothing but one solid mass of sensuous feeling being joyously made love to against her shower wall.

And then she came. Her muscles clamped down on Michael, she stiffened, her hands digging into his shoulders, and she screamed.

Michael felt her come on him. He held her, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as she dug into his flesh. He held her as she shuddered, with each tremble causing her to bang her head ever-so-slightly against the shower wall. When she had come down from the peak, she opened her eyes and smiled sweetly at him.

Michael withdrew himself, then turned off the shower. He slid open the curtain and helped to step out. She reached for a towel, but he grabbed her by the back of her hips and pushed her against the bathroom counter.

"We're not done, yet," he told her. He then pushed against her back, causing her to fall forward against the counter. She caught herself, bracing her hands against the sink as she felt her ass being raised up. She watched in the mirror as Michael moved behind her, cupping her ass first, then spreading her open.

She was about to tell him to not hurt her when he suddenly pushed into her. It was forceful, but not too hard, and he didn't bury himself inside her. He waited a few seconds for her to adjust to him in the position. When she raised her head, he saw her smile in the mirror. He smiled back, then grabbed her by the hair and began thrusting into her.

Melissa started the repetitive moaning again, only this time the words "Yes!" and "Harder" spat from her mouth. She looked up again, into the mirror, and saw Michael behind her, one hand entwined in her hair, and his muscled physique rippling as he held onto her. She could feel his hand around her hips, holding her steady while he pumped in and out of her.

Michael was getting closer. He looked down and watched himself going in and out of her. He looked up and saw her in the mirror watching him.

"You feel so good," he said. She moaned something unintelligible and arched her back, opening herself more for him. He disentangled his hand from her hair, and grabbing her ass, spread her cheeks wide.

"Oh fuck!" she exclaimed, her orgasm starting build again. Michael didn't stop, but instead he pounded harder. He could feel the tingling start, the sensations of the impending explosion coming deliciously soon. He clenched his teeth, a low moan coming from him, almost animalistic sounding. And then, when he though he was going to pass out from sensory overload, he thrust one last time and held himself there as he shook and came.

Melissa felt him throbbing, shooting inside her. She gave into her own orgasm, gripping the sink faucet and accidentally turning it on as she screamed her pleasure. She didn't care, she didn't even know, because all she was aware of was that Michael Stone had just fucked her like she had never been fucked before. And she loved it. When Michael finally withdrew from her, she could barely move. She vaguely lifted her head and looked at the sink faucet. She gave a small laugh and turned it off. She looked into the mirror and saw Michael smiling and shaking his head. She gave a small shrug as he stepped back into the shower and turned it on.

They actually showered this time, washing away the sweat from their previous exertion. Afterwards, they both lay nude, and cuddled on Melissa's bed.

Michael checked his watch. It was about two hours until sunrise. He thought about the vampire, and seeing the creature on his roof. The vampire had ran from the police, but why towards him? The fiend was escaping, but to where?

"Hey," Michael said, "what's beyond the building where I was when you found me?"

Melissa thought for a minute. "Not much, just the docks. The sound. Boats and stuff."

"Warehouses?" Michael asked, "like old warehouses? Abandoned warehouses?"

"Yeah," she answered. "Why?'

"Because," Michael reasoned, "the vampire was fleeing when it came across me. And I believe it was escaping to its lair. And there's nothing better than an old, unused warehouse where it could come and go as it pleases."

"Oh," Melissa understood, "so we need to check out some old warehouses."

Michael nodded. "Get some sleep," he told her, "we leave at sunrise. In daylight, we have the advantage."

Melissa spooned against him and drifted off. Michael held her, and despite the pending battle he knew he would fight, found himself falling asleep.

-to be concluded.