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Victor was alone in his rented room now, hours later. He'd been told that Sweet Alice would come back for him the next night, so he'd better beware. Right now, he was more concerned with cleaning those wounds. He peeled his black turtleneck off, the dried blood cracking, and the cloth pulling away from clots, reopening the gashes. His teeth gritted from the pain, and the silk knit shirt fell to the floor. Victor inspected the wound, praying no attention to the network of scar tissue that covered his chest from his abdomen to his throat. Then there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Victor called.

"It's Shale. I have some wash water for you." Victor moved to the door and shifted the chair that had been jammed under the door knob, then opened the door allowing Shale through, before blocking it again. Shale set the covered bowl on the table, then turned and looked at Victor. She inhaled sharply.

"Oh...." Angel turned away, pulling rolls of bandage from his pouch, then he looked at her face impassively. She was horrified. She bit her lip and pulled herself together.

"Here..." she said, opening the dish of hot water, and dipping a clean cloth into it. "Let me help you with those...." Victor regarded her, then sighed, and nodded. Gently she patted the crusted blood away, and wrapped the clean dry strips of cloth to bind first his abdomen then his arm. "Everyone was very impressed with you, Mr. Shelly."

"Angel," he corrected, as he watched her tighten the bandage on his upper arm.

"Angel." She smiled faintly. "There's only been one other case of anyone fighting back."

"You got in a pretty good hit yourself Shale," he said.

"Oh... that..." Shale said, dismissing it. "Just returning the favor of helping me."

"It's not nothing, many chicks wouldn'ta done that." He took her hand and lay a kiss on the back of it. Shale grinned.

"Oh, you're quite gentlemanly," she half mocked.

"Isn't that right?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said, "but it doesn't get you very far!" Angel moved around her, setting his hands on her shoulders, gently. He leaned forward and whispered in her hear.

"Oh... and how far would I get if I'm a little less gentlemanly?"

Shale turned her face to him.

"Oh, we'll see." Their lips touched. It burned light, it tingled. Shale twisted to face him fully. Their chests were pressed together as they kissed again. Shale was hungry for affection, to be reassured of life, and Angel didn't seem to be objecting. His hands were caressing her back, her neck, rubbing tension away. She was melting against him. They fell into the bed. Angel moved her shirt up to rest his hands on the bare flesh of her back. Meanwhile she was doing everything in her power to keep him interested. His hands drifted upward, as he showed no signs of becoming bored.

***

John Tucker was not a happy man. Something about Hunter's Haven put him completely at ease, and considering what he was there about, he didn't consider this good. And to top it off, they told him that it wouldn't be wise to leave till morning. He just wanted to go home.

***

Shale lay with her head resting gently on Angel's shoulder. It felt too good to be real. Her eyes closed, and she fell asleep.

Angel grinned in the darkness. He'd worn Shale out. He had a tendency to do that, no matter how gentle he attempted to be. Shale had, he had to admit though, a spectacular endurance. But in the end... ah. Angel slipped out of the bed, and checked under the bandages. Everything was healing nicely, the wounds were closing, with his accustomed speed. He wouldn't need the bandages in a few days. Victor went down on his knees, then he closed his eyes and offered a prayer to his God. Because he wouldn't leave until Sweet Alice was gone. And he knew it wouldn't be easy. Alice was smarter than she looked.

***

Tucker tried not to pay attention to the argument going on behind him, or the stony silence of the cat eyed man beside him, swathed in a cloak, shielded from the bright sunlight. At least he'd gotten help.

***

Victor sat in the chair, which was no longer blocking the door. His black booted heels rested on the windowsill, and the window's shutters were open to the bright morning light. Shale rolled over, seeking the other person she had shared her bed with the night before. Then she sat up, blinking.

"Good morning," Victor said softly. She smiled holding the blankets to her chest. Victor handed her shirt. Shale slipped into it and out of the bed. Angel took her hand and kissed it, smiling. Shale smiled sheepishly back at him.

"You'd better get down there. They're looking for you.² She slipped out of bed and into her pants. Angel caught her up and gave her a real kiss. Shale melted, and Angel smiled. Then he left her there, trotting down the stairs. Leaving Shale with the incredible feeling that she'd just been shamelessly taken advantage of. She wished he'd do it again.

Victor spent the day gathering information about Sweet Alice. As night began to enwrap Sunsweet Rest he sat on the steps of the inn again, drawing a knife across a silvery bullet, scoring a cross on it. "You'd better be getting in, Mr. Shelly," said the innkeeper. Victor looked up at the innkeeper and smiled. The innkeeper decided to mind his own business.

The old-timers of the village decided on Victor, surrounding him, as he scored another bullet.

"Gonna hunt Sweet Alice?" cackled Old Man Higgins, the stump of his pipe dancing as he spoke.

"Only one person ever tried to do that before," Grandfather Mandren said. Beside him Nanny Ogg nodded sagely.

"Yes," Victor said, unaccountably annoyed by their presence. "I heard that, but no one would tell me any more."

"It's on account'a what happened to 'im," Nanny Ogg said, dropping down beside Victor with a surprising spryness.

"What happened?" Victor asked, teeth gritted. He was getting that feeling. And no good ever came of that feeling. But he needed the information.

"Ya see, about two score years ago, this youngun' had his fiancée killed by Sweet Alice - she goes after women who are in a family way, ya see - anyway, he got it into his head that he could rid the town of her, by pinning her to the ground with a big iron stake."

Old Man Higgins interrupted. "We tried to stop him, but it didn't work."

"Hey, I'm talkin' here!" Nanny Ogg said indignantly. Angel's teeth ground as they bickered, and he opened his mouth to put a stop to this nonsense and felt a muscle twitch and release. He shut his mouth as quickly as he could. Nanny Ogg made a definitive statement, if not winning the argument, then at least shutting the other two up, then turned back to him to continue.

"As I was sayin' they never found his body, till spring thaw, when they noticed the smell. He'd been nailed to the upper branches of a tree in the cathedral grove. There wasn't a whole part of him that wasn't torn to shreds, the poor bugger."

Victor nodded, not opening his mouth. Nanny Ogg led the other elders away as the curfew bell rang. Victor raised his knife and opened his mouth slightly. There in the silvery reflection of his knife blade were the fangs. A Half-Inch longer than his normal teeth, there they were. His mouth closed and he frowned. Victor sheathed his knife, lit a cigarette and watched everyone scatter inside, watched shutters get shut tight. He carefully loaded his gun, and as the night drew more firmly around the town, like a cloak in a snowstorm, he watched the fog roll in. Then he heard shrieks. Angel sat up straight lit a fresh cigarette. There was another screech. Victor's wars pricked, it sounded like a cat had bit the big one. Better a cat than a human. Victor stood up, and ruffled his spiky bangs back, taking a deep draw on his cigarette. Something brushed against his ankle. Angel skitter-stepped forward and turned in one smooth movement.

"Do you seek sweet embrace?" whispered the pale, thin face, phosphorescent eyes seeking at his. He stepped backwards swiftly. "I am the sweetest kiss...." she breathed.

"You're dead, and off your rocker." Victor smiled; a cruel tensing of muscles. "I don't go with loonies."

Sweet Alice's arms opened. "Come to my arms."

Victor smiled again, and drew his gun, and fired, in one smooth motion. Alice dissolved into mist as the bullet tore through where she should have been.

"Damn!" yelped Victor, as a taloned hand crashed down on his arm, knocking the gun out of his grip. He abandoned it momentarily, his hand drawing the long bladed knife of its own accord, slashing out at Alice's midsection.

"Where is the girl?" Alice asked.

"None of your concern!" Victor said, slashing the knife down again, trying to twist away from her grasp. A gout of blood splashed across Alice's robe, as her chest was cut open. She screamed and tossed him away. Victor's eyes searched through the mist, looking for his gun. As Sweet Alice clutched her chest. He found it and scrabbled towards it. just as his fingers closed around the stock, Sweet Alice lifted him by the face.

"Come into my arms..." she whispered in her honey sweet voice. Their eyes locked. For them, time stood still, as their wills fought

***

André urged his horse on, leading Mary, Domenic, and the blacksmith who had come to them for help. He couldn't explain it, but when he'd tried to image on Sunsweet Rest, he'd gotten an incredible feeling of wrongness. He had to get there tonight, and he didn't give a damn if the others did. For once, he was going to prove that he was as good as his brother.

***

Hoof beats in the night broke Victor out of his trance. He jerked aside, slashing at Sweet Alice's eyes with his knife. She screamed and fell to her knees.

"Liar!" screamed her sickeningly sweet voice, as she clutched at her face. "You are no more live than I! Zombie! Abomination of nature! Golem!"

"Oh, ya know, that really hurts." Victor said, "Why do people have to say such hurtful things?" His arm was shaking as he raised the gun to fire. Just as he squeezed the trigger a trio of horses rode out of the mist.

"What?" Victor said. The shot went awry, striking Alice in the shoulder. She screamed again, and dissolved into mist. The mist, all of it, flowed like a sentient being out of the town and into the highlands.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Victor demanded as the horses pulled up. "I had her!"

"Who are you?" demanded one of the party, a green eyed Adenan, for all Victor could tell.

"I'm Victor Shelly, and if you hadn't come out of the fog like mad men, she'd be dead." He turned his eyes to the ground, and saw a trail of dark splotches leading in the direction the mist had gone. "She's hurt." He looked up at the pale haired man who was looking down at him unimpressed. The other two figures were exchanging looks. Angel leapt into the air, his fist connecting with the arrogant nosy. Domenic fell to the ground in a heap, as Angel took his place in the saddle. He spurred the horse after the trail of blood.

"Make sure he's alright," André said jerking his head at Domenic. "This time, the hunt is mine." He urged his horse after Victor.