Finally, the trail was once again hot, hotter than before. I had a strong lead to the name Odin had given me-Goodman-and where I could find him.

But a golf pro? What would a golf pro have to do with the murder of an alien and the chalice, Marissa?

I slipped the business card into the satchel and laid the satchel on the deck by my feet.

Before me, the horizon lightened from indigo to cerulean. The eastern stars faded. Sunrise approached.

Despite my spider-bite vaccination against the sun, I had my doubts. My mouth went dry. I was scared. For centuries, it had been the first rays of the new day’s sun that incinerated vampires. It was like facing a tiger I knew could never be completely tamed.

Even worse, I should’ve spotted land by now and I was getting hungry and lightheaded. Rummaging through the boat I found nothing but empty bags of Doritos. There were obviously no cups of blood lying about. The fuel gauge indicated that the tank was full to the brim-a lie, considering I’d been motoring for a good part of the night. At any moment I expected the Evinrude to cough and quit. Well, I did have all those hundred-dollar bills, which meant I had plenty of paper handy in case I had to blow my nose.

I could’ve planned this sojourn better. For starters, stealing a better ride instead of this piece of rusted junk.

My consolation was that I knew how to find Goodman-Dan Goodman-who might be the man the alien Gilbert Odin had fingered as his murderer. Goodman killed Odin for what reason? It had to be more than Odin being an alien. And, if so, would I have to include Goodman as part of my investigation ordered by the Araneum?

White light scrolled up from the horizon. Dawn was about to break.

Not wanting to take more chances, especially when it came to my privates, I shook the sand out of my cargo shorts and put them on. I crouched behind the instrument panel.

The rays of the sun unfolded in a rush of brilliance. Not burned to a crisp yet. Still, I waited until shadows slanted across the deck, telling me that the sun had risen safely above the horizon.

I stood. The yellow ball of the sun hovered majestically before me. Its heat warmed my skin, a gentle, loving caress.

Had we broken the sun’s tyranny? My fear at the cruel bite of solar rays ebbed as I noticed how much I’d tanned. The sun was no longer a ravenous beast to be cowered from-I’d seen those morning beams devour vampires-but more like a friendly dog that wanted to cuddle.

If the sun could be defied, then what else about our vampire nature could be altered? Enjoying the sunlight without protective cosmetics was a human privilege. Was this a step to becoming more human, and, if so, could we find a way to forever quench our barbarous thirst for blood or reverse our accursed undead immortality?

Become human again? I nurtured the idea like a tender sprout. What would those fruits be-real love? No longer living as fraud beneath a disguise of makeup? Shedding the fear that I might be outed as a vampire and destroyed?

Suppose I did become human again? Would the Araneum let me live with the secrets of the supernatural realm? Or would I be killed-this time for sure, no undead funny business-to protect those secrets?

I had barely figured out how to exist as a vampire, and these new questions made my head hurt.

Squinting toward the east, I spied slivers of land in the haze of the distant water. I tapped the throttle lever anxiously, hoping that enough gas remained in the tank.

The slivers of land grew into a series of humps that I recognized as the Snipe Keys. If vampires counted only on skill for survival, we’d be extinct by now. I was grateful for all the breaks that Lady Luck pushed my way.

At last I saw Houghton Island and I chugged victoriously into the lagoon and headed for the pier.

Carmen and several chalices-she was topless, they were nude-tended the mooring lines of her boat. Carmen saw me and walked to the end of the pier, where she waited, smiling.

I nudged the speedboat against the pilings.

Carmen set her hands on her hips. Man, what a great pair of boobs. It was a good thing I wore shorts or she would’ve seen me weathervane toward her. I stayed behind the instrument console and let the moment pass.

Carmen stood on tiptoes to get a better look inside the boat. “You’re wearing shorts? I was hoping you were naked. This is southern Florida; all you really need is a tan and a smile.”

I spread my arms to show off my bare torso. “Here’s my tan. And here’s my smile.”

“Well, you do look good. The parts I can see.” Carmen moved to the edge of the dock and planted a foot on the gunwale of my boat. She kept her expression calm but her aura grew writhing tendrils of apprehension. “Anything about the murders?” Her voice was low. “Marissa the chalice? The alien?”

I picked up the satchel and flashed the business card with Goodman’s name. “Pay dirt. I find this guy and chances are good that I solve the murders, save the Earth women, and learn what the aliens are up to.”

I dabbed my lips with a cloth napkin. After a good meal, I felt much better.

A chalice lay across the picnic table. She was naked except for a striped bedsheet covering her body from the waist to her ankles. Bruised puncture marks dotted her neck. An expression of ecstasy faded from the chalice’s face; many chalices swooned and achieved orgasm when vampires dined on their blood. The chalice relaxed and sighed, content and sleepy.

Carmen and I sat on benches on opposite sides of the table. We had taken turns enjoying the chalice’s rich blood.

A thatched awning provided shade from the noon sun. We were alone in the pavilion of Carmen’s resort. The other vampires and chalices were either asleep in their cabins or playing cannibals and missionaries somewhere else on the island.

Carmen pulled the bedsheet to the chalice’s neck. “Don’t want the poor girl to catch cold.” Despite the hedonistic ambience of the resort and her predilection for walking around topless, Carmen wore a T-shirt and had pulled on beach trunks over her bikini bottoms.

She had wanted me to wear Speedos-an orange banana hammock-but I had put on camouflaged cutoffs and a tank top. I grabbed a plastic bottle from the table and squirted aloe vera lotion into the palm of my hand. After rubbing the lotion on my body, I stretched my legs from the shade and into the warm sunlight. “How did your corpse heist go?”

Carmen smirked. “Stealing ice from an Eskimo would’ve been more of a challenge.”

“Where’s the body?”

“Antoine, Jolie, and I gave Marissa a proper burial at sea. Bothers me that I have to cover up her death when I had nothing to do with it.”

The sea breeze mussed my hair. A rock placed on a sheaf of papers kept them from blowing off the table. I had told Carmen how I followed Johnson, what happened to him on the island, and how I discovered Dan Goodman’s business card. Earlier today we had gotten on the Internet, using the resort’s satellite link, and printed Goodman’s photos and a bio. Considering how much trouble it had been to find him, it was now laughably ironic how simple it was to get all this information.

I took the papers and perused them. “Talk about skating through life. Goodman got his officer’s commission from West Point and spent his career golfing for the army.”

“That’s possible?” Carmen raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently so. After retiring as a colonel, he hired on as the head golf pro with the Sapphire Grand Atlantic Resort at Hilton Head Island. It’s so high-end it’s where the owners of four-star hotels go for pampering.”

“The lap of luxury,” Carmen noted.