was in the broom closet with Debbie from Registrar.”
Dylan felt Slade’s eyes bore down on her . . . the broom closet was one of their favorite places to have their own fun. Secluded, quiet. It seemed others had the same idea.
“Guess this vamp didn’t take his job as seriously as Erock thought. His pants were down around his ankles. Debbie was stripped down completely. And they were both lying on the floor. Stone dead.”
“Where was Debbie right before she left with the second scout?” Slade asked.
Hiram pointed to the desk of the registrar. The registrar’s office wasn’t really an office at all. Actually, it wasn’t even a room. At least not by any standards Dylan had ever known. It was an alcove pushed back five feet from the hallway wall—just enough space for a desk and a few filing cabinets. No door. Certainly no privacy. Tonight, records had been pulled out of their little cubbies and spilled all over the floor and into the hallway.
“Looks like a tornado came through here,” Dylan said, sifting through the cards.
“Exactly,” Hiram said. “We’re not sure what went on, but it looks like some sort of a struggle took place. Whether it was from the two of them having fun or this lurking shadow, we may never know.”
Slade kept his eyes on the hallway leading to the great room. Dylan wondered if he was hearing something or just being overly cautious.
Two girls, dressed head to toe in the latest vamp fashion—plaid school-girl skirts and laced-to-the-knee black boots—walked by them, toward the open theatre door ahead on the right.
“So this . . . shadow . . . roams around the haven, harassing scouts and Debbie from Registrar, and leaving others fine and dandy to report its odd behavior?” Not giving the newbies a second look, Slade kicked through a pile of papers and walked toward the map on the side wall. “Doesn’t sound like it’ll be much of a problem to figure out. Dylan and I will start researching ghosts and check in on the other species that go bump in the night around this part of the city.”
A high-pitched sound of air being sucked quickly out of a duct echoed through the hall. Dylan and Slade’s gaze snapped to the girls. They screamed and froze in their tracks, huddling against one another, staring wide-mouthed at the ominous fog coming right for them.
Slade bounded down the hall so fast Dylan couldn’t follow his movements—one of the benefits of Slade being the strongest and fastest of the species. Hiram stood protectively in front of Dylan. She palmed Mathilda, giving its diamond shaft a finger roll for good luck.
The blanket of charcoal-gray smoke slithered along the floor, holding the naïve girls in its sight. It hissed and writhed, spitting and bubbling as it slid along the ground. Evil churned inside its black depths. Hatred fueled its snakelike movement. It shrank and grew, floating right for them.
Dylan yelled, “Don’t just stand there! Run!”
As if they were mesmerized by something inside the ghost shadow, the girls remained where they stood. Black tar-like fingers clawed up their bodies in thick vines. The girl on the right gasped loudly, inhaling a giant plume of smoke as it ran up her chest and past her lips.
Slade must’ve realized that things were happening much too fast. That he couldn’t save both girls. The encroaching fog was going to cover the girl on the left in a hiccup. In a flash that looked more like a whirlwind than a man moving, Slade roped his arm around the girl on the right and pulled her from the clutches of her blonde friend. She spun out of his arms and hit the wall with a thud, safely out of the range of the slithering shadow. Slade turned toward the blonde, who was still as stone.
Like an expelled puff of cigar smoke, the dark fog enveloped her from toe to blonde curls. It fizzed and writhed as it collapsed around her, covering her in its blanket of black.
Slade charged the cloud, only to be pulled back by
Dylan felt Slade’s eyes bore down on her . . . the broom closet was one of their favorite places to have their own fun. Secluded, quiet. It seemed others had the same idea.
“Guess this vamp didn’t take his job as seriously as Erock thought. His pants were down around his ankles. Debbie was stripped down completely. And they were both lying on the floor. Stone dead.”
“Where was Debbie right before she left with the second scout?” Slade asked.
Hiram pointed to the desk of the registrar. The registrar’s office wasn’t really an office at all. Actually, it wasn’t even a room. At least not by any standards Dylan had ever known. It was an alcove pushed back five feet from the hallway wall—just enough space for a desk and a few filing cabinets. No door. Certainly no privacy. Tonight, records had been pulled out of their little cubbies and spilled all over the floor and into the hallway.
“Looks like a tornado came through here,” Dylan said, sifting through the cards.
“Exactly,” Hiram said. “We’re not sure what went on, but it looks like some sort of a struggle took place. Whether it was from the two of them having fun or this lurking shadow, we may never know.”
Slade kept his eyes on the hallway leading to the great room. Dylan wondered if he was hearing something or just being overly cautious.
Two girls, dressed head to toe in the latest vamp fashion—plaid school-girl skirts and laced-to-the-knee black boots—walked by them, toward the open theatre door ahead on the right.
“So this . . . shadow . . . roams around the haven, harassing scouts and Debbie from Registrar, and leaving others fine and dandy to report its odd behavior?” Not giving the newbies a second look, Slade kicked through a pile of papers and walked toward the map on the side wall. “Doesn’t sound like it’ll be much of a problem to figure out. Dylan and I will start researching ghosts and check in on the other species that go bump in the night around this part of the city.”
A high-pitched sound of air being sucked quickly out of a duct echoed through the hall. Dylan and Slade’s gaze snapped to the girls. They screamed and froze in their tracks, huddling against one another, staring wide-mouthed at the ominous fog coming right for them.
Slade bounded down the hall so fast Dylan couldn’t follow his movements—one of the benefits of Slade being the strongest and fastest of the species. Hiram stood protectively in front of Dylan. She palmed Mathilda, giving its diamond shaft a finger roll for good luck.
The blanket of charcoal-gray smoke slithered along the floor, holding the naïve girls in its sight. It hissed and writhed, spitting and bubbling as it slid along the ground. Evil churned inside its black depths. Hatred fueled its snakelike movement. It shrank and grew, floating right for them.
Dylan yelled, “Don’t just stand there! Run!”
As if they were mesmerized by something inside the ghost shadow, the girls remained where they stood. Black tar-like fingers clawed up their bodies in thick vines. The girl on the right gasped loudly, inhaling a giant plume of smoke as it ran up her chest and past her lips.
Slade must’ve realized that things were happening much too fast. That he couldn’t save both girls. The encroaching fog was going to cover the girl on the left in a hiccup. In a flash that looked more like a whirlwind than a man moving, Slade roped his arm around the girl on the right and pulled her from the clutches of her blonde friend. She spun out of his arms and hit the wall with a thud, safely out of the range of the slithering shadow. Slade turned toward the blonde, who was still as stone.
Like an expelled puff of cigar smoke, the dark fog enveloped her from toe to blonde curls. It fizzed and writhed as it collapsed around her, covering her in its blanket of black.
Slade charged the cloud, only to be pulled back by
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