“The last straw,” Frank continued, “was when Lee the murderer became more famous than any of them ever anticipated. Every time he was on TV, it was hell, it was all of his bragging coming true. Even from jail he was superior. The Lee. And soon after the family arrived in town, they each had a chance to talk with him alone. When it was Cassie’s turn, he looked right at her and reminded her about all those nights”—Frank wrestled in a breath—“all those nights. He told her how he’d start them up again after he got out of jail because he was going to get away with Klara’s crime, and that meant he’d be able to get away with doing anything—especially with a nobody.
“Cassie lost it. She was a somebody, and she wanted to show the Lee she was stronger than that, to mess him up just as much as he’d messed up her. Most of all, she wanted to prove she was a person—a special one—just like him and she was worthy of more than being his inferior.
“So, on the sly, she planned everything, watched all the TV shows about murder, read about how to get away with it on the Internet, spent hours with books like Crime and Punishment to see what she had to do, how to act. She knew about trace evidence and, since she was smarter than the Lee, her first time went off without a hitch. She shaved her head and hid the deception with a wig and a scarf—a new style for a new state, she told her family. For her victims, she picked women because, realistically, they were the only ones she could physically overcome with the help of one thing: surprise. These were symbolic victims—at first they were just used to prove a point to Lee. But that’s before she got to like the blood….”
Dawn held her breath, inches away from the revolver. But when Cassie leaned slightly toward Frank, Dawn paused.
“After finding them in the ValuShoppe parking lot,” Frank continued, “Cassie would follow the women around to find out their schedules. Then she’d ambush them in their homes—all she had to do was pick locks and be careful about being seen. Then she’d slit their throats before they could defend themselves.”
Frank was breathing harder now. “She was the real Vampire Killer, not the Lee. She was going to take the spotlight away from him by being more successful, racking up more numbers. After Jessica’s murder, it was easy to take any lingering evidence like the dresses and dry cleaning bags from the closet. She burned those things, plus her own clothing, in a homeless person’s bonfire near the motel. Cassie could finally use her acting skills, too, by pretending she was one of them and that she just wanted a warm fire.”
He hesitated, then seemed to be overtaken, words rushing out, harder, more jagged. “Cassie wanted to dominate the Lee like he dominated her—thrust, thrust—she hated him, but she loved him, and maybe by imitating his murders she could also keep him safe from conviction, mislead the jury…. Oh, he’ll owe her big if she saves him and then who’ll be the superior—?”
Bang, bang on the roof. Screee-ch!
Dawn stretched toward the revolver again….
“Dear God.” Frank was still enthralling Cassie, but it looked like he was trying to pull away. “What Lee did—”
Closer, closer…
“—to her…Marg would turn her back on them when the Lee would creep into the room at night. She knew—she had to know. He’d get into bed and tell Cassie not to make a sound. He was the superior, she was nothing.”
Frank jerked back in his seat, but Dawn already had her weapon. It weighed in her hand as she aimed it.
Groaning awake, Cassie blinked, then saw Dawn. Frank’s connection had been severed with his shock at what he’d seen in her mind.
With a cry, the killer raised her knife, face arranged in a fanged grimace.
“I’m Somebody!” she screamed, the blade coming down.
Dawn rolled away just in time for Cassie to stab the floor. Frank bolted up from his seat.
Shoot her before she can—
“Get in here!” Cassie screamed in invitation to the Guards as she sprang to her feet.
Bang!
Knife tumbling from her grip, the pseudo-vamp flew backward, hitting a paneled wall and slumping to the floor, her chest smoking from Frank’s bullet.
Then it began.
First it was the roof, moaning as it was torn off like the lid of a can, exposing them all to the night sky.
One pair of red eyes in a pale face peeked in.
Dawn had imagined this so many times before that she should’ve been more afraid. But fear wasn’t what was driving her now. It was so much more—something hella more dangerous.
Erecting a mind block, Dawn stared down a red-eye, adrenaline escalating her heartbeat. Lifting her revolver, she got ready to target the heart with her silver bullets, but anywhere else would at least slow these clowns down. Ready, aim—
Three walls went flying to the elements, whizzing into the night. It left just the cab, with its weak light underscoring the horror.
The Guards descended.
Five of them. Five freakin’ maniacs with pale bald heads, burning eyes, iron fang teeth, and black clothing belled out like death’s wings.
One zoomed toward Dawn, claws outstretched.
Calmly, she squeezed the trigger. The Guard jerked backward, abruptly vacuuming into itself, its clothing falling to the ground and puffing to a quick, disappearing burn.
Four.