Demon Night

directly beneath her. Though the halogen light illuminated his long blue black hair and whitened the skin at his hairline, hands, and the tops of his ears, the depth of the shadow pooled around his feet seemed to enfold him in darkness.
    Stopping for a smoke in the rain? Charlie tried to convince herself of it, but he didn’t reach into his trench coat pockets for a cigarette. And he was too still—almost expectant. Waiting.
    For what?
    So absolute was his stillness, Charlie nearly jumped when he leaned away from the wall, turning his head as if searching for someone. His shadow slid like oil, a dark slick spreading the width of the alley.
    Charlie looked in time to see a man and a woman melt out of the darkness beyond Cole’s street-side corner. Gooseflesh prickled her arms. Their steps seemed sped up, like the cartoonish pace of old black-and-white newsreels.
    But there was nothing jerky in their predatory glide, nothing comedic. It was too smooth, too quick, too…
    Inhuman.
    A shiver raced down her spine, drew the skin tight across the nape of her neck. Her breath skimmed in between her lips.
    As if he’d heard that soft sound, the figure below tipped his pale face up. His mouth was half-open in a smile. Sharp teeth gleamed.
    Long sharp teeth.
    Charlie jerked away from the wall and dropped into a crouch. Her legs trembled. Jesus. Oh, Jesus. Had he seen her?
    Had she just seen fangs?
    She was crazy. Fucking crazy. One strange incident two months ago, and now she was imagining vampires.
    She squeezed her eyes closed, willing away the vision of his teeth, hoping her blindness might be his, too. They flew open again when the singsongy voice drifted up the stairwell.
    “Charlotte…”
    She was suddenly light-headed, dizzy. Her inhalations were too fast, too shallow. Hyperventilating . She was going to pass out if she didn’t get ahold of herself.
    She forced her breathing to slow, forced herself to think. Had she been panicking like this from the time she’d seen the first shadow?
    If so, that might explain why they’d seemed to move so quickly. Her perception could have been distorted.
    But he’d said her name . How could he know her name?
    She hadn’t gotten a good look at the other two. Her job put her in contact with a lot of people, and she was on a first-name basis with many of them. Had anyone mentioned a costume party? A rave at a Goth club?
    But a casual acquaintance wouldn’t know to find her up here, and would only use her nickname.
    Still shaking, her breaths ragged, Charlie half-rose from her crouch. She moved quietly to the head of the stairs and peeked around the stairwell housing.
    No array of diamond shadows. The stairs were completely dark, the light blocked by the three figures staring up at her through the gate.
    Though she could barely see the outline of their features, she was instantly certain she didn’t know any of them.
    Was instantly certain those smiles weren’t friendly.
    Oh, God. She turned and flattened her back against the brick wall, frantically searching her coat pocket for her cell. The rough corrugated stone dug into her spine.
    An eerie screech tore through the air. She realized what it was at the same time the first ring sounded in her ear.
    Cold wrought iron, bending .
    A hard-edged feminine laugh accompanied another metallic squeal, and Charlie’s throat tightened. It wouldn’t do any good to shout or scream. She couldn’t attain any volume, and nothing pitched higher than a middle C would ever come from her scarred vocal cords. Come on, comeoncomeoncomeon —
    “Cole’s—”
    “Old Matthew! There’s someone in the alley—”
    And now deep male laughter, as if they were relishing her fear.
    “Charlie?”
    “—trying to get up here, hurry hurry—”
    Through the earpiece, she heard Old Matthew calling Vin’s name and the crash of the phone to the counter. They’d be out within seconds.
    To face these things? Old Matthew was huge, intimidating, and Vin strong and quick, but she hadn’t warned them that whatever they were running to confront might be much, much stronger—
    A familiar flat clang almost stopped her heart, her breath. The Dumpster. Someone had jumped on top of the lid. And the rough scraping could only be boots against brick.
    One of them was climbing the wall.
    Charlie shot to her feet, prepared to run. But where? There was no access to street level except the stairs. She whirled in a circle, looking for a place to hide. Nowhere was