Midnight Hunter Book One in the Midnight Hunter Trilogy

Donna woke up with a splitting headache and some concerns about the increasingly violent nature of her nightmares.

  I just need to relax. I’ve gotten way too stressed and it’s causing me to have incredibly vivid nightmares.

  It was a quiet Saturday, and it begged for some kind of ordinariness. So Donna picked up a pencil and sketched. The next thing she knew, it was an hour later and her pencil was reduced to a nub. She flipped back through her work; page after page of the same dark forest scene…and bloody eyes staring out from the darkness. The blood came from her own fingertip, where she'd chewed until it bled. She tore out the pages, balled them up and threw them in the trash. She sat back in her chair and hid her face in her hands. That's when the yelling started in the kitchen. At least her parents were finally home.

  Too bad they’re screeching at each other, though.

  The way Donna figured it, by the time she showered, dressed, and went downstairs, whatever they'd argued about would be smoothed over. Then they could all sit down to breakfast as a nice, normal family. Donna took her time in the shower, letting the steam roll off her back, and by the time she ran out of hot water and shut off the spigot, the kitchen was quiet. Donna smiled, knowing her parent’s argument routine by rote. Indeed, everything was back to normal.

  She put on black Capris, a white blouse, and black slip-on shoes. Just as she prepared to pull a brush through her hair, the front door slammed shut and Dad's Jeep left the driveway. So much for a nice, normal breakfast with her parents. Donna's phone rang. It was a number she didn't recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Donna?” A timid voice asked.

  “Who is this?”

  “It's Samee.” How had the little twit gotten Donna's phone number? “I got your number from Rochelle. I hope you don't mind.”

  And if she did? “What can I do for you, Samee?”

  “Um, I was just wondering how you're doing today.”

  “Fine,” Donna said slowly, not even trying to hide the irritation in her tone.

  “Oh, that's good.”

  “Is there anything else, Samee?”

  Samee stammered. “Well, um, your friend's boyfriend is kind of cute, isn't he?”

  “Mo doesn't have a boyfriend.” Why was everybody jumping to that conclusion?

  “Well then who was that cute guy she was with at the club?”

  Donna rubbed her temples, inhaling sharply when the left one protested against her touch. “That's James,” Donna explained. “Or Jamie. James or Jamie. Something like that. Is there anything else I can do for you, Samee?”

  “That's her boyfriend,” Samee insisted. “They were making out in the back room.”

  Donna's heart raced. “You must be mistaken.”

  “Nope. That's her boyfriend and they were making out. Anyway, they're kind of cute together, don't you think?” Samee giggled.

  “I gotta go.”

  “But I need to talk to you about -” Donna clicked the phone shut, then popped it back open and punched in Mo's number. It rang five times before she answered.

  “Hello?” Mo yawned.

  “It's me. Donna. Supposedly your best friend.”

  “I don’t know anyone like that.” Mo's tone was sarcastic, but with the way things had been going, Donna jolted anyway. “I know who you are, Donna. What I don't know is what crawled up your butt and made you so bitchy.”

  “I want you to explain something about last night.”

  Mo groaned. It sounded sleepy. “Are you mad? Because I asked if you were okay about going home alone and you said yes.”

  “Is there something you should tell me, Mo?”

  “Tell you?” Another yawn.

  “I heard a rumor.” Donna was silent for a moment, giving Mo a chance to speak up, but for once, she didn't. “I heard you were making out with James at The Dark Side.” Donna held her breath, hoping Samee's eyesight had misled her.

  Silence.

  “Is it true?” Donna prodded.

  “Well, I was thinking I could, maybe...” Mo sighed.

  “Maybe what? Maybe remember to invite me to the wedding?”

  “Okay, yes. Jamie and I have been seeing each other.”

  “Obviously,” Donna snapped. “What's not obvious is why you didn't bother to tell me.”

  Mo made an exasperated sound; Donna could practically see her eyes rolling.

  “It's...well, it's you,” she began. “Let's face it Donna, at the rate you're going, you'll be a 40-year-old-virgin...and...I just don't like bringing up my...encounters, because then I feel guilty. I wasn't sure how you'd take it.”

  “And how did you think I'd take it by finding out through the grapevine? We're supposed to be best friends. Best friends don't keep secrets from each other.”

  Mo dallied for a moment before continuing. “Okay then, in that case there's more.” Mo sounded apprehensive, which made Donna feel that way too. “I’m pregnant.”

  Donna gasped. “How -?”

  “We used a condom, but it still happened.”

  “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I just barely found out about it myself a couple weeks ago. I was trying to work things out, figure out what to do. I was going to tell you, Donna.”

  “When? During labor?”

  “I'm sorry,” her tone was apologetic. “And right now I gotta get ready for work. Then after work, I'm helping out at the soup kitchen. Hey, maybe you can stop by then and we can talk some more. You know, after the rush?”

  “Yeah, I guess we should.”

  They ended the call and Donna sat on her bed, feeling numb. She'd have expected Mo to get arrested before she'd expect her to get pregnant. Kidnappers, killers, and a pregnant best friend. What next? Donna looked in the mirror as if the answer could be found there. A shiner had formed right where the boot had hit. Great. Now she'd get to explain to Hunter about the nightmare man who crawled out of her dreams and left bruises on her body. That ought to impress him.

  She made her way downstairs and to the kitchen doorway, then stopped and gasped. Almost every drawer and cupboard was pulled open, the contents spilled across the floor. A knife was even stuck in the wall right above her head. A jar of salsa and a bottle of olive oil lay cracked and oozing across the counter and inside open drawers. Dishes were strewn everywhere. Donna carefully stepped in the room. Broken glass crunched under her feet and shards of fine china and heirloom pottery littered the floor. How had she not heard this fight happening?

  Donna carefully picked up the biggest glass pieces and tossed them in the garbage. She swept the remaining slivers, scooped up every grain of sugar, pasta noodle, and crumb of her mother's favorite fat-free rice cakes. She restored canned peas and carrots to their rightful spots and washed a splatter of something pink and gooey from the window above the sink. Then she slopped up spills with paper towels. She used a whole roll to clean up the mess. Finally, she drew the garbage bag shut, stuffed it inside a second bag, and carried the bundled mess to the alleyway garbage can. By the time Donna finally sat at the counter to a bowl of cereal, it was early afternoon, and she felt hungry enough to swallow the bowlful in one gulp. But the milk tasted sour and the flakes were smashed from the fight, so she dumped the contents down the garbage disposal and sifted through the cupboards until she found a half bag of chips that had somehow been spared in the battle. After finishing the last chip and looking around the kitchen, it hit Donna with undeniable force: everything in her life was going crazy. She called Rochelle. Mo could say what she might about Rochelle, but in all the time she and Donna had shared that apartment, Rochelle had been a strong, sturdy anchor to keep Donna grounded. Right now, that's exactly what she needed.

  “Hello, Donna,” Rochelle's voice was flat when she answered.

  “Hi Rochelle, how are you doing today?”

  “Fine,” Rochelle said curtly.

  “I was just wondering if you and I could get together soon.”

  Silence.
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  “You and Samee seem to be great friends.”

  More silence. Donna wondered if she should hang up and try again. Maybe she had accidentally connected to that weird alternate reality that had been pestering her lately.

  “Yeah,” Rochelle finally said. “Samee and I get along great. She's a lot of fun.” The word “she” was emphasized. “Did Samee tell you about Mo's boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” Donna's discomfort mounted.

  “I introduced Samee to a couple guys that are about her age. She's so cute and fun. Soon she'll have a boyfriend. Then you'll be the only one without a boyfriend, and the only one without a life, too.” Donna's throat tightened. “It figures you can't get a boyfriend, Donna. Especially when you don't give a guy what he wants, like you didn't give Matt what he wanted.”

  “He wanted sex.”

  “Yeah, exactly. Most normal people do want sex, Donna. Including me. So I helped out your poor boyfriend.” Rochelle laughed, and it rang hollow.

  Donna slammed the phone shut and threw it down on the counter. Then she stared at it. Somehow this all had to be that little redhead's fault. Just as the nightmare man had promised. Donna climbed back upstairs and sat at her desk drawing...mostly redheaded she-devils and heartless roommates. After an hour, she balled up those sketches, laid her head on the desk and dozed off.

  Donna stood in the woods, shivering because she was wearing only a light dress. The air felt thick with hatred. She couldn’t tell if it was hers, or…

  “It's no fun when somebody wrecks your life, is it Donna?” He stood behind her and leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear. His breath stank. She turned to face him, to spit at him like he had done to her, but he pushed her face away. Then Donna's injury caught his attention. He took her chin in his hand. “I did that.”

  Yeah,” she sneered. “It's a real gold star moment for you.”

  “Don't be sarcastic.” His cold, slippery tongue licked Donna's cheek, causing bile to gurgle in her throat. “And don't make me destroy everything again.”

  “Why do you keep saying ‘again’?”

  On the other side of Donna's conscious, a racket just outside the window jostled her back to reality. The racket turned out to be heavy engine roar, like a bulldozer preparing to level a mountain. But there were no mountains in her parents’ front yard. Donna parted the purple curtains just in time to see the back end of an old, black Bronco turn the corner and rumble away.

  No…please, not him again.

  The idea of that insane shooter knowing where she lived was enough to make Donna want to jump out of her skin. So she convinced herself it was somebody else's ugly, old Bronco - even though ugly, old Broncos were a rare sight on Sunflower Street.

  Business Ethics homework wasn't capturing Donna's focus but feeling sorry for herself wasn't lifting her mood and the idea of falling asleep again was almost too much to bear. Plus, since seeing the Bronco, Donna had doubts about even staying home at all...with a target on her forehead. She grabbed the Mustang keys and took off to search for a job, which turned out to be a discouraging scavenger hunt. The best offer she got was weekends at a day care center that was packed from 6:00 am to midnight with screaming toddlers. Donna wasn't in the mood for that kind of work, though she hoped maybe Mo was.

  Her last stop was on the outskirts of town at New Leaf Garden Center, which smelled like roses, potting soil, and cedar. The gray-haired manager in the floral print apron and worn gloves politely smiled and promised to keep Donna's file on hand, even though they weren't hiring at this time. Disheartened, Donna left the garden center, but instead of heading left and back to town, she turned right, toward the haunted house at the end of Autumn Lane. The place was generally known around town to be the saddest, most decrepit eyesore in all of New England and rumor was the house might be slated for demolition. So when Donna pulled the Mustang in the cul-de-sac and cast her gaze upon the place, she thought she was on the wrong dead end street.

  Gone was the dark, dingy, wrought iron fence that had defined the house's circular driveway and in its place was a neat and tidy white picket. The faded gray paint that had peeled for decades on the old Victorian house was gone and now the clapboard gleamed white like freshly-polished teeth. Late summer flowers burst out at all angles from hanging baskets and containers. A birdbath buzzed with activity. It was magical.

  It figures a cute little thing like Samee would live in a quaint dollhouse like this.

  Donna did notice something odd, though. The house’s shutters were clamped closed. She wondered at the wisdom of people who would spend all that effort exposing the natural beauty of a home and then slam shut the world from it. She turned the Mustang back toward town, more convinced than ever that Samee was up to no good. Donna drove to the soup kitchen with the intention of talking it out immediately with Mo. But when Donna got there, the kitchen smelled like a school cafeteria and the volunteers buzzed around preparing food for the dozens who had already lined up out front. Talking would have to wait.

  Mo dashed by. “We're having beef stew and baked potatoes,” she said to Donna instead of saying hi. She dashed by again with pitchers of pink lemonade. Mo wore a banana yellow shirt, matching socks, and that red nose stud and the crimson hair she'd had for a few days. Even Rochelle couldn't have looked good like that. But the ensemble fit Mo like a glove. She zoomed by again, stopped, backed up, and squinted at Donna's temple.

  “Where did that bruise come from?”

  “I smacked my face against the bathroom cabinet,” Donna lied.

  “Nice one, Gracie.” Mo rolled her eyes and Donna hoped the lie would work as well on Hunter.

  Donna helped Mo and the other three volunteers poke fork holes in potatoes and fill little paper cups with sour cream. After everybody was seated, she put on disposable plastic gloves and helped hand out plates. Mo hurried around the dining room, re-filling milk glasses and chatting with the regulars. An old woman and Mo cackled and snorted and cackled some more about something that clearly was the funniest thing ever. One of the kids kissed Mo's cheek when she took him to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream. He sat on a crate of instant mashed potato mix and swallowed the chocolate ice cream in huge bites.

  We're not supposed to let anybody but the staff back here,” Mo whispered to Donna. “But this kid's my favorite. Probably because he likes monsters as much as I do.”

  Toward the end of the dinner hour, a guy about Donna's age stumbled in. He wanted his coffee mug filled, but he didn't want any food, just the coffee. Mo took the mug and poured it full. His eyes were lowered and he twitched frequently. Maybe that's why Mo didn't give him back the mug until after she'd pressed the lid on tight. She smiled wide. “See you next week, Kyle.” He grunted, grinned, turned and left. And after everybody was done eating and the doors were locked behind the last soup kitchen guest, Mo trotted around picking up silverware and napkins while the other volunteers cleaned up in the kitchen. Mo bent to her hands and knees to wipe spilled sour cream from the floor.

  “How's this going to play out when you're eight months along?” Donna asked.

  Mo chuckled. “Guess I'll need help getting back up.”

  Donna picked at her pinkie nail. “Is your car fixed?”

  Mo shook her spiky head. “And the piece of shit's going to cost $500.00. Needs some stupid sensor thingy.”

  “How did you get here?”

  Mo indicated toward the kitchen. “Patti. She lives kind of close to me.”

  Donna looked to the kitchen where a plump woman with a gray ponytail and puffy, red cheeks scrubbed out a stew pot. Donna finally looped the Mustang key on the key ring, removed the Sentra key from it and put the key on the table next to Mo. “Here. It might need gas soon.”

  She stopped picking up utensils. Her eyes got big and her mouth gaped in surprise.

  “You're giving me your car?”

  Donna chuckled. “I'm loaning it to you until you can save up the money to get yours fixed.”


  “Well,” Mo slowly picked up the key, grinned at Donna. “I suppose I can overlook the hideous color.” Mo winked and her eyes twinkled.

  “What's wrong with silver?”

  “It's boring.” But then she hugged Donna. “Thanks. You're the best friend ever. And I promise to treat it like my own car.” Donna opened her mouth to protest but Mo chuckled. Donna grabbed the broom and swept the floor, feeling better about everything just because of the smile on her best friend's face.

  Time went quickly in the soup kitchen’s dining room, and when the daisy-shaped, plastic wall clock read 7:45, Donna turned to Mo. “I need to go. I'm meeting somebody.”

  Mo wiped her hands on her apron and cocked her head. “Who are you meeting?” Donna felt bad lying, but the truth would be worse; I'm meeting the maybe-kidnapper, who has a soft touch and nice ass.

  “Um, it's an interview for a job...over at New Leaf.”

  Mo scrunched her nose. “Fertilizer smell, gross.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope I don’t get the job.”

  Donna picked up a raspberry smoothie at the drive-through coffee place and arrived at The Commons promptly at 8:00. He wasn't there yet. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe he'd decided a twenty-one year old virgin with no job and stubbly legs wasn't his type. Maybe she was making a fool of herself for even being here. Maybe...Donna's gaze crossed to the swing set, which nobody was using. She strolled over, set her smoothie to the side, plopped in a swing seat and closed her eyes. She inhaled the crisp scent of coming fall and listened to the rusty chain creak under her weight. The pendulum motion carried her back to childhood, to a time when parents didn't act like tantrum-throwing toddlers and college roommates didn't have sex with your boyfriend behind your back. Forward, back, forward, back...to a time when scary guys in ugly cars didn't shoot blue Toyota stalkers right in front of you, when best friends didn't keep a secret life. Higher, higher...up and away...to a place where everything went along nice and normal, exactly as expected.

  Something grabbed Donna's ankles. She screamed.

  “That's an interesting hello,” Hunter smiled, and it was lopsided.

  “Oh, hi.” Donna said it as casually as she could, considering she'd just about died from the shock of his approach. She hopped from the swing, grabbing her drink. Then she walked to a nearby bench and sat with as much carelessness as she could, even though tonight he looked exceptionally gorgeous in a ball cap and black leather jacket. He sat next to Donna, and smelled like cloves.

  “You were on time,” he said.

  “You weren't.” She blushed, but he didn't see it.

  “I just keep forgetting the days are getting shorter.”

  “Oh.” What did that have to do with anything?

  “So,” he sighed. Probably out of boredom. “What do you want to talk about?”

  Donna sipped her smoothie. “Everything.”

  “If I tell you everything, you won't believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  A young couple walked past, the guy pushing a stroller. The woman laughed at something he said. He smiled back at her. Hunter glanced at them. When he did, Donna took a better look at him. The brim of his cap shaded his pale skin against the last moments of daylight. She'd never known anybody to be so pallid and yet so alluring. He didn’t notice Donna staring at him because he was engrossed in watching the couple.

  “I've been tracking a guy for months,” he said when the couple passed.

  Donna set aside her smoothie and sat on her hands so she wouldn't bite her nails. “Tracking?”

  “The guy who's taking these blonde girls. I've followed him for a while now. He was in Spain before he came here.”

  “So I was right. You are a cop.”

  “The Dark Side is a perfect transitional place while he waits.” Hunter stared out at the grass, his brow furrowed. Donna freed her hands to sip more smoothie, which was getting close to the bottom. She'd have to pay attention and not slurp like Mo.

  “If you know where he's hanging out,” she said, “why can't you arrest him?”

  “It doesn't work like that with him.”

  “How does it work with him, then?” Hunter picked up a stick, tossed it across the grass. A fat, black Labrador retriever trotted up, took the stick in its mouth, wagged its tail and trotted back to its owner.

  “Sorry,” the owner smiled sheepishly. “This dog thinks the whole world's his chew toy.”

  “It’s okay, he can have it.” Hunter chuckled, and Donna’s tummy tingled at the sound. He turned back to Donna. “The guy I'm after has staked his claim on a particular victim. He tracks her everywhere she goes but he can't touch her, except at night.”

  “Too much visibility?”

  “You could say that.” Hunter gently took Donna's chin in his hand, examined the most recent injuries. “That looks painful.”

  “It is. I mean, just a little.” He didn't ask how it had gotten there, for which she felt grateful.

  Hunter turned away. “He has minions.”

  “Minions?”

  “People who work for him.” Times were certainly rough in the job market, as she well knew, but what kind of person would apply for the occupation of kidnapper's assistant? “He's getting closer to making his move now that he and I are both here.”

  “Why does he wait for both of you to be here?”

  Hunter's voice deepened, almost to a growl. “He likes to torment me.”

  Her lip curled. “That sounds pretty sick and twisted.”

  “He enjoys it best when I can find fresh evidence of his crime.”

  Goosebumps gathered on Donna's arms. “Definitely sick and twisted.”

  “But when he makes his move this time, I'll be here to stop him.” Hunter stood and brought Donna up with him. His hand went to the injured side of her face, and warmth instantly gathered there. His breathing got shallow, and his heart beat louder. Hers did the same. She was struck with the strangest sensation - like their breathing and heartbeats were in perfect synchronicity. It was almost as if they were sharing the same body and mind. Hunter wrapped his arms around Donna, pulling her close. The world melted away when he leaned down and kissed her. His lips tickled hers, their tongues met. His fingers made a slow, methodical trail across Donna's cheek then down her arm. She wrapped her fingers through Hunter's jet black hair, and then teased them down his back. Her hands crept underneath his shirt. He shuddered, his muscles tensing and releasing. He slid his tongue from just underneath her chin to her collarbone. Then it was her turn to shudder. His touch shot electrical surges through Donna's body. If he would have let go right then she'd have collapsed to the ground. She nibbled his neck. He leaned back, groaned.

  “Donna, I've waited so long for this.”

  She giggled. “Two days?” Hunter's hands abruptly stopped their traverse. He pushed away, ripping Donna from his warmth, scent, heartbeat - like a rubber band stretched until it snapped. What had she done wrong? If Rochelle were here, she'd know how to fix it. Of course, she might also push Donna aside and take care of Hunter herself.

  “I'm sorry, Donna. I shouldn't have been so forward -”

  Donna stood tall, reached her right arm behind Hunter's neck, brought his face down to meet hers and kissed him. He tensed, then sighed deeply and kissed her back. They melted together. With their lips still locked, Hunter laid Donna gently on the ground. She loved how his body felt above her and how his hands glided across her midriff, sending power surges everywhere they touched. Her breathing was ragged, her back arched. Her heartbeat and his thundered together. She glanced at his throat. A pulse throbbed there, the same pulse that throbbed in her. She wanted to whisper, “Do anything you want to me,” but just before she did, a sharp protrusion from under Hunter's upper lip caught her attention.

  “A fang?” she giggled. Hunter jumped up like Donna was made of broken glass and then disappeared into the woods so fast she couldn't even tell which way he went. “Hunter?” No answer. “Hunter?
I didn't mean anything bad, it just looked...Please come back, let me explain.” But he didn't come back, so she couldn't explain. After ten minutes of waiting, Donna finally sulked to the park bench, retrieved what was left of her raspberry smoothie and tossed it in the trash can. She trudged back to her Mustang and drove home.

  A fang?

  What an idiot she'd been for even saying something so stupid. Of course it wasn’t a fang. Donna pulled in the driveway and glowered at the front of her parents’ house. She noted with nostalgia how normal everything used to be when she came home. Now nothing made sense. Donna pushed the garage remote and felt annoyed when she saw that neither of her parents' cars was in the garage. Apparently, she really did live here alone. Donna pulled the car in and pushed the button to close the door. It went about half way down, then shuttered to a stop and re-opened. She got out of the car to see what the problem was.

  She gasped.

  “I’m sorry. I overreacted.” Hunter stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, head bowed, shoulders stooped. He didn't say a word. He just stood there with his foot blocking the door sensor.

  “Get out of here before I call the police.”

  He smirked. “You know as well as I do, the cops aren't on your side.” Yes, she did know that. But how did he?

  “Get out.”

  “Donna, you don't understand.”

  Her face reddened, tears welled in her eyes. “I understand that I've asked you twice to get out of this garage, yet you're still in it.”

  “Fine.” Hunter stepped back.

  Donna pushed the button and the door shut with Hunter standing on the opposite side of it. She set the security alarm and slammed the side door when she stepped from the garage into the house. She considered calling Mo and going to her house for the night. Not that Mo didn't have enough problems of her own, but being home all alone right now was almost more than Donna could bear. But having to tell Mo about Hunter would be even worse, so she grabbed a soda, checked the voice mail and then trudged upstairs, feeling humiliated. She pushed open her bedroom door and then screamed.

  “That's the second time you've said hi like that,” Hunter grinned timidly.

  Donna's voice quivered. “How in the hell did you get in here?”

  His Adam's apple shifted when he swallowed. “We really need to talk.”

  “No. You really need to leave. And anyhow, how in the hell did you get in my bedroom?” Even as the words tumbled from her mouth, Donna remembered that Rochelle knew the alarm code because Donna had given it to her last spring when her family went to New York with Mo and Jill. Rochelle had promised to bring in the mail and check on the houseplants. Apparently, she’d helped herself to more than just Matt.

  Donna glowered at Hunter. “Rochelle is behind this, isn't she?”

  Hunter shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don't play innocent with me, mister. Rochelle's turned against me since she met that weird little girl, Samee.”

  “Samee?” Hunter's eyebrows lifted in recognition of the name.

  Donna's eyes widened. “So, you do know Samee.”

  “I didn't say I know anybody named Samee.”

  “You didn't have to. It's written all over your face. So tell me, Hunter-with-no-last name, did Samee and Rochelle put you up to this?”

  “Put me up to what?” Hunter folded his arms across his perfect chest, which made his shoulders look even broader.

  Why does he have to look like that when I’m trying to get rid of him?

  “Put you up to pretending you like me.” Donna bit her index finger nail.

  “Why would I pretend to like you?”

  “For fun,” Donna snapped. “Granted, it's immature fun, but then everything that little bitch touches seems to turn childish. Look what happened to Rochelle.”

  “I'm not sure what to tell you, Donna-”

  “Why don't you tell me if you're having fun yet?” Donna's breathing got shallow and her legs shook. Why wouldn't he just go away? “Or does the fun start when Rochelle pays you in sexual favors?”

  Hunter shook his head and chuckled. “If you only knew.”

  “Why don't you enlighten me?”

  “Are you sure you want that? Because once I tell you, there's no taking it back.”

  “Fine,” Donna's tone was short. “Just tell me.”

  Hunter shrugged. “I'm here to protect you.”

  “By breaking and entering?”

  “By keeping your nightmares from coming to life.”

  Donna gasped. Hunter leaned against the wall, gazed at her with heavy eyes.

  “How do you know about my nightmares?” she asked.

  “If I tell you, you won't believe me.”

  “So you've said.”

  He sighed. “I didn't want to get you this involved again. It never works out well for either one of us.”

  “What is all this talk about ‘again’?”

  “If you'd let me explain...” Hunter pushed black hair from his pale face then ducked his hands in his pockets like a frightened little boy.

  “Only if you can explain without lying.”

  “I haven't lied to you.”

  Donna scoffed. “Oh, really? Then what would you call the fairy tale about the kidnapper being in Spain? And what about those ridiculous fangs? I've seen more realistic vampires at my doorstep on Halloween.”

  That made him chuckle. “Well, thank you.”

  “You're welcome.” Donna folded her arms. “Now, tell me the truth or go away.”

  “You won't believe me if I tell you,” he repeated. “You never do. So I'll show you, and I apologize in advance for it.” Hunter hissed and the whole room shook. A wind gust came from nowhere, whipping through the room and sending objects into a fierce frenzy. Donna's porcelain jewelry box crashed to the floor, splitting the lid in half. Books blew from shelves, their spines twisted. Pages fell out, twisting in the air. Strands of Donna's hair smacked against her cheek. One stung her eye. She yelled at Hunter to make it stop, but the wind's voice was much louder than her own. Hunter's eyes closed and seconds later when he re-opened them, they were no longer the beautiful black orbs she was so attracted to. Instead, they were red-hot coals that seared her soul, scorching with the heat of a million suns. Hunter's pale skin pulsed with blue veins. A razor-sharp pair of fangs extended from his upper gums, clear to his chin. When he spoke, the wind instantly silenced and DVDs, earrings and a shoe that had been caught up in the tornado, all dropped to the floor in a great, synchronized crash.

  Hunter's voice was like death. “Donna. Understand this, please. I'm a vampire. A real one. Not a cheap Halloween imitation.”

  Donna screamed and ran to the bedroom door but before she could open it, Hunter's arm swung around her waist and he threw her on the bed, straddling her. She screamed. He covered her mouth and whispered “Shhhh” repeatedly. His fangs receded and his skin color faded back to normal. The red glow in his eyes died out. He sighed and sat back. Donna looked up at him desperately. He looked down at her tenderly.

  “I won't hurt you.”

  “Let me go,” she whispered. He didn't. Instead, he leaned forward, took her chin and held it tight. She tried to wiggle away, but he slowly lowered his lips until they almost touched her jaw.

  This is it. He’s going to suck my blood.

  She wasn't ready to be killed, or worse, so she sobbed and begged him again to let her go. He didn't, but he didn't bite her neck, either. He laid his lips on hers and gently kissed her. After the kiss, he whispered.

  “Donna, I can never let you go. We're Eternal Partners.” He stared in her eyes. “You're the other half of me. I'm the other half of you. Can’t you feel it yet?” He backed away and let her sit up. She darted to the top of the bed and curled up in a tight ball, glowering at him.

  Her voice shook. “There's no such thing as Eternal Partners.”

  “Like there's no such thing as vampires?” Hunter smiled
crookedly.

  “I don't know how you just did that thing with the wind and the stuff flying around,” she waved frantically, “but it can't be real. Rochelle must somehow be involved in this.”

  Hunter shook his head and sighed in exasperation. “Would you please leave that girl out of it? This is about you and me, Donna. We've known each other for thousands of years.”

  “Oh, sure we have. That makes a lot of sense.” Donna scoffed.

  “It's easy for you to laugh it off because you've never watched me die.”

  “Trust me, I'm not laughing.” Donna crossed her arms and pressed against the wall as hard as she could to be as far away from him as she could get.

  “I've seen you die more times than I care to count.” Hunter paused and Donna continued to glower at him. “Then I wait for your return so I can find you again.”

  “I see,” she said in an unconvincing tone.

  Hunter looked as exasperated as he sounded. “No, you don't see. You think I'm a lunatic who aims to kill you.”

  Donna swallowed hard. Well, what would you think if you were me?

  “I'd think that, too.” He sighed, reached for Donna's face. She tried to pull away but his gaze captured hers and before she could even shut her eyes, his memory slipped inside hers.

  First, the words “Eternal Partners” pulsed through her mind like a heartbeat. Then, reflected in Hunter's eyes, a scene from the past that was as vivid to Donna as if she'd been there herself. Hunter was there, with shoulder-length hair and a thick beard, wearing bell-bottomed pants and a paisley shirt. He looked like a hippie, which made Donna giggle. A pretty, dark-haired girl was with him. She wore a floral wreath crown and a long, patchwork dress. Her laugh got caught up by the breeze and landed on poppy flowers nearby. They were barefoot in a wildflower field, enjoying their time together on a moonlit summer night while fireflies danced and a soft wind tickled stray hairs across her face. They chatted, she twirled, he laughed...and revealed a pair of fangs. They fell in the scented field and made love - she knew he adored everything about her. The scene was so peaceful, so pleasant, so ordinary...Her smile, the way her hand fit perfectly with his, how her second toe was just a little bit longer than her big one... The scene vanished.

  “I don't want to leave,” Donna whispered.

  “Shhhhhhh,” Hunter still held her face, but it was with a lighter touch now.

  In the next scene, Hunter was with the same girl, only her skin was chocolate and her hair jet black, thick, and wavy. Her eyes held the same happy glow as the girl in the earlier vision. It was nighttime and they were alone in a wooded area by a lake near an old car. Crackly Buddy Holly music blared from the radio. Hunter wore his hair slicked back and when he grinned, it was crooked. When he smiled, the tip of his fangs glistened against moonlight. He was so handsome in a white t-shirt and leather jacket. The girl's poodle skirt twirled while they danced. “Someday,” he whispered, “the world will see that love knows no color boundaries and we won't have to hide ours.”

  Donna gasped. “That was before the civil rights movement.”

  The vision faded and the next one arrived. It was midnight and the full moon hung low over the ocean. Hunter sat on a rock. He looked handsome in suspenders and a bowler hat. The pretty girl's hair was cropped and the color of fire, but her eyes were the same as ever. She spoke in a language Donna didn't understand. He beckoned her into the water for a late night swim. She disrobed clear down to her feet with the second toes that were longer than the first. The vision clouded just as she plunged in the ocean to meet him.

  Hunter blinked, and Donna was back in her plain, ordinary bedroom with the purple comforter and colonial furniture.

  “Wait,” she begged. “I want to go back. They were so happy.”

  Hunter whispered. “They're us, Donna. And you're right. We were happy.”

  “My toes...”

  Hunter smiled wide. “Are always gorgeous.”

  So all those women were her. She wished she could go back in time, talk to one of those earlier versions of herself and find out just how one goes about adjusting to being Eternal Partners with a vampire. Donna looked at Hunter.

  “How did you become a vampire?”

  His expression clouded. “Somebody I was close to Turned me.”

  Donna considered it. A former lover?

  He chuckled. “No.”

  Had there been other women? Donna wasn't sure how she felt about that. Hunter took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “The person who Turned me was my brother.”

  She gasped. “Your brother? But why?”

  Hunter pressed his finger to her lips. “Shhh, it doesn't matter.”

  “It matters to me,” she said quietly.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later.” Hunter's finger ran down Donna's arm. “Right now, I just want you to remember me. Remember us.”

  Remember us…

  She wanted to, but Donna's mind filled with everything she knew about vampires: holy water, garlic, the sun turning them to ash the very instant they were exposed to it. Plus, there was that famous vampire ability to seduce their prey...

  Hunter chuckled again.

  “What's so funny?” Donna frowned at him.

  “You're not my prey, Donna. You're my Eternal Partner.”

  “Quit doing that!”

  “Doing what?” His eyebrows raised in mock innocence.

  “You know what. Reading my mind.” Donna recalled the steamy things she'd thought about him. On second thought, sucking her blood might be the most humane thing he could do.

  Hunter shrugged, somewhat apologetically. “It's one of those pesky vampire traits.”

  “Well, if you don't mind and, even if you do, I don't like pesky vampire traits sifting through my thoughts.”

  “Most vampires choose not to read thoughts,” Hunter explained. “We prefer staying out of the heads of mortals. It's a very noisy world for us otherwise.”

  “Then why do you keep reading my mind?”

  He apologized. “My close connection to you makes it hard for me not to know your mind. It's like trying to tune out your own thinking.” He winked. “If it makes any difference, you've never liked it.”

  “Of course I haven't,” she snapped. “It's like my privacy's being invaded.”

  He nodded. “That's what you always say. But it makes finding you so much easier. You can be anywhere on earth when you're reborn. So, I listen my way to you and once I find you, I work hard to shut it off. But,” he looked sternly at her, “it's not like a light switch.”

  “Find me?”

  “We've experienced many lifetimes together, a few of which you've just seen.” Hunter gently took Donna's hand and held it against his chest. “But when your heartbeat quits, mine does too. I take that awful silence for as long as I can before giving up and going to sleep. I don't re-awaken until your heartbeat begins again. Its thumping in my chest wakes me up.”

  Where does he sleep during all this time? Donna wondered. In a coffin?

  Hunter chuckled. “In a bed.”

  Donna groaned. “You did it again.”

  “Sorry. It might take some time to get my head out of yours. Anyway, once my heart begins to beat, it awakens me. Then I start seeking you again.”

  “How long am I gone?”

  “About two years, and I usually sleep through at least one of them.”

  Sleeping for a full year… “How do you find me?”

  He kissed her hand. “It always takes time, but the louder my heartbeat gets, the closer I know I'm getting to you. When I get really close, I can read your thoughts.”

  “How close?”

  He thought about it. “Ten miles, give or take.” He gazed in Donna's eyes and leaned toward her. Their lips met. He slowly pulled off her white blouse and lowered her on the bed. “I've waited so long for this,” his voice was low in her ear and his clove scent lingered around her. Donna's heart raced and so did Hunter's. He pulled
off his shirt and there it was, right in front of her. His rippling chest.

  “I've never done this before,” she whispered.

  “It's always that way. Whether I find you at 19 or 29, you've waited.” He stroked her hair and with his other hand went under her bra.

  “Hunter,” Donna sighed. But she didn't try to stop him when he unclasped the bra or when he lowered her black Capris. She didn't even try to stop him when he gently, slowly removed her panties. For the first time ever, she lay naked in front of a man and didn’t feel the urge to say no. Hunter's hands roamed across her breasts. He cupped each one, pulled the nipple in his mouth, and tickled it with his five-o-clock shadow. His fingers circled her belly button and his tongue tickled it. Hunter parted her legs and explored first with his fingers, then with his tongue. Donna's breathing was shallow and she moaned in pleasure. Everything tingled; her scalp, her tummy, even her goddess toes. An orgasm took Donna - she shuddered and lost control. Her fingers tangled in Hunter's hair.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “I've never felt that good.”

  Hunter grinned while removing his pants. “Yes, you have felt that good before. We have.” He gently lay on top of her and she loved the feel of his weight, the scent of his sweat, the taste of his kisses. But...

  “Hunter -”

  “It's okay,” his voice was melancholy. “I'm unable to reproduce.” Hunter's muscles flexed, making her want him even more than she'd thought possible. “Relax, we've been here before.” And as Hunter shuddered, so did she.

  chapter eight