"Well, fine. So here we are again, brought together by divine intervention or whatever, praise the Lord," Kate said, and grinned.

"You seem in excellent spirits, Kate," Kyle said. He was actually pretty buoyant himself.

"Well, Kyle, this is just such a nice, unexpected treat, why wouldn't I? I get to see the two of you. Plus, I amin excellent spirits. I'm getting married next year in the spring. My Thomas proposed two nights ago."

Kyle fumbled out a congratulation, and I called over our waiter and ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate. For the next few minutes, Kate told us all about her Thomas, who owned and ran a small, nicely snooty bookstore in North Carolina. He was also a landscape painter, and Kate said he was exceptional at both his jobs.

"Of course, I'm hugely biased, but I'm also a picky little bitch, and he really is good. He's a fine person too. How are Nana and the kids? How's Louise, Kyle?" she asked. "C'mon, tell me everything. I've missed you two."

By the end of dinner, we were all in good spirits. The champagne and the company did the trick. I had noticed before how Kate could raise up everyone around her — even Kyle, who usually isn't the most social person. All through dinner he rarely took his eyes off of her.

The three of us hugged outside the restaurant at around eleven.

"You two are coming to my wedding," Kate said, and stamped her foot. "Kyle will bring Louise, and Alex, you'll bring the new love of your life. Promise?"

We promised Kate. She left us no choice. We then watched her walk away toward her car, an old blue Volvo that she made house calls in.

"I like her a lot." I couldn't help stating the obvious.

"Yes, I like her too," said Kyle, who didn't stop watching until Kate's car was gone from sight. "She's a very special girl."

We were connecting some of the dots now. Finally. I hoped we would be able to put together the whole vampire puzzle soon. By the following afternoon, the FBI had identified twelve eastern cities where murders involving vampire-like bites had occurred as early as 1989. I put the names on one of my index cards. Then I stared at the list long and hard. What could possibly link these cities?

Atlanta

Birmingham

Charleston

Charlotte

Charlottesville

Gainesville

Jacksonville

New Orleans

Orlando

Richmond

Savannah

Washington, D.C.

The breadth of the list was a problem. Scarier and more mystifying was the fact that the murders might have been going on for over a decade.

Next I made an even longer list of cities where nonlethal attacks by supposed vampires had been reported and investigated. I stared at the list and got a little depressed. This was starting to look like an impossible conspiracy.

New York City

Boston

Philadelphia Pittsburgh

Virginia Beach

White Plains Newburgh

Trenton

Atlanta

Newark

Atlantic City

Tom's River

Baltimore

Princeton

Miami

Gainesville

Memphis

College Park

Charlottesville

Rochester

Buffalo

Albany

The violent crime unit in Quantico was working round the clock on the murders. Kyle and I were pretty sure that other cities would turn up, and that the pattern might go back longer than eleven years.

In Atlanta, Gainesville, New Orleans, and Savannah there appeared to have been murders in at least two different years. So far, Charlotte, North Carolina, was the worst hit: There were three suspicious murders going back to 1989. It was even possible that the killing spree had started in Charlotte.

The FBI had moved agents into the twelve cities where murders had happened, and special task forces had been set up in Charlotte, Atlanta, and New Orleans.

I finished up with my investigation in Charleston. It didn't accomplish too much. At this point, the media didn't have the story about the wide net of murder cities, and we wanted to keep it that way for as long as we could.

That night, I visited Spooky Tooth, the only club in the Charleston area that was a hangout for Goths and vampire wanna-bes. What I found there was a nest of young people, mostly under twenty. They were still in high school or college. I interviewed the owner of the nightclub and questioned some of the clientele. They were definitely angry and restless, but no one seemed a likely murder suspect.

I made sure I was back in Washington the next afternoon. At seven-thirty Nana, Jannie, little Alex, and I went to a Boys' Choir concert.

The choir sounded better than ever. Damon was one of the featured singers. He had a beautiful solo, "The Ash Grove."

"See what you've been missing?" Nana leaned in close and said.

William and Michael liked being in the South. It was wild and free-spirited, just like they were. Most important, they were right on schedule.

They had arrived in Savannah, Georgia. William drove the van along Oglethorpe Street and stopped at the famous Colonial Park Cemetery. Then he went on to Abercorn. Then along Perry Street, passing Chippewa and Orleans Squares. He told Michael, lectured to him, "Savannah is built on its dead. A whole lot of this port city is built on the graveyards." Also that Savannah had been spared in the Civil War and now was one of the best-preserved Southern cities.

William liked this beautiful city very much and was pleased that they had to take a victim in Savannah. It would be a pleasure to feed here, and to fulfill their mission. He lost track of the street names as he took in the sights of the historic district. Magnificent Federal-period town houses, nineteenth-century churches, fancy ironwork with scrolls and Greek motifs, flowers everywhere. He admired the' famous old houses: Green-Meldrim, Hamilton-Turner, Joe Odom's first house.

"It's beautiful and elegant," he told his brother. "I could live here. You think we should settle down one day? Would you like that?"

"I'm famished. Let's settle down soon," Michael replied with a laugh. "Let's settle down and feast on the finest that Savannah has to offer."

William finally parked the van on a street called West Bay, and he and his brother got out and stretched their arms and legs.

Two young girls in Savannah College of Art and Design T-shirts and blue-jean cutoffs came strolling up to the van. They had long, shapely legs, butterscotch tans, and seemed not to have a care in the world.

"Can we give blood here?" the smaller of the girls asked with a conquering smile. She looked to be around sixteen or seventeen. She had lip studs and wild cherry Jell-O-dyed hair.

"Aren't you the dainty morsel?" said Michael as he locked eyes with the girl.

"I'm a lot of things," she said, and looked over at her friend, "but dainty sure isn't one of 'em. Don't you agree, Carla?" The other girl nodded and rolled her green eyes.

William looked the girls over and thought they could do better in Savannah. These two tramps weren't worthy of him and Michael.