Sharon jolted at the unexpected boom of a deep male voice. She recognized the dark baritone, but hearing it in her apartment - unannounced, and after dark - was something of a shock.
"Oh. Hello, Gordon." She tugged self-consciously at her cardigan, wishing she'd put on something less lived-in, more appealing to a sophisticated man like Gordon Fasso. "I'm...well, my goodness...this is such an unexpected surprise."
He sent his cool gaze around the small, embarrassingly cluttered apartment. "Did I come at a bad time?"
"No, of course not." She smiled but he didn't return it. "I was just making some tea. Would you like some?"
"No. I can't stomach the stuff, actually." Now he did smile, but the slow spreading grin didn't make her feel any more comfortable. "I stopped by the hospital, but the nurse there told me you were released. I understand your daughter brought you home."
"Yes," Sharon replied, watching as he took a leisurely stroll around her living room. She smoothed her hair, hoping it wasn't a complete disaster. "I really enjoyed the chocolates you gave me. You didn't have to bring me anything, you know."
"Where is she?"
"Hmm?"
"Your daughter," he said tightly. "Where is Dylan?"
For a second, maternal instinct told Sharon to lie and say that Dylan wasn't around and wouldn't be coming back any time soon. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it?
She had no reason to fear Mr. Fasso. Gordon, she reminded herself, trying to see the charming gentleman he'd shown himself to be recently.
"I can smell her, Sharon."
The statement was so odd, it took her aback completely. "You can...what?"
"I know she's been here." He pinned her with an icy glare. "Where is she, and when is she coming back? These aren't difficult questions."
A bone-deep chill settled in her as she looked at this man she truly knew so little about. A word skated through her mind as he moved toward her...evil.
"I told you I wanted to meet the girl," he said, and as he spoke, something very strange was happening to his eyes. The icy color of them was changing, turning fiery with amber light. "I'm tired of waiting, Sharon. I need to see the bitch, and I need to see her now."
Sharon started mouthing a prayer. She backed up as he approached her, but she had few places to go. The walls would hem her in, and the slider in the living room opened onto a short balcony that overlooked a twelve-story drop to the street below. A warm breeze filtered in through the slider screen, and carrying with it the din of the rushing traffic out on busy Queens Boulevard.
"W-what do you want with Dylan?"
He smiled, and Sharon nearly fainted at the sight of his grotesquely long teeth.
No, she thought in near incomprehension. Not teeth at all.
Fangs.
"I need your daughter, Sharon. She's an unusual woman, who can help give birth to the future. My future."
"Oh, my God...you're crazy, aren't you? You're sick." Sharon inched farther away from him, panic hammering in her chest. "What the hell are you, really?"
He chuckled, low and menacing. "I'm your Master, Sharon. You just don't know it yet. Now I'm going to bleed you, and you're going to tell me everything I want to know. You're going to help me find Dylan. I'm going to turn you into my slave, and you're going to deliver your daughter right into my hands. And then I'm going to make her my whore."
He bared those huge, dripping fangs and hissed like a viper about to strike.
Sharon didn't know what possessed her, beyond the consuming terror of what this man - this terrible creature - could do to Dylan. She didn't doubt for a second that he could do precisely what he threatened. And it was that certainty that carried her feet toward the screen door.
Gordon Fasso laughed as she fumbled with the flimsy plastic sliding lock. She threw the screen open.
"What do you think you're going to do, Sharon?"
She backed out onto the balcony but he followed, the broad shoulders of his suitcoat filling the open space of the slider. Sharon felt the rail of the balcony press hard at her spine. Far, far below, horns blasted and engines screamed with the speeding rush of traffic.
"I won't let you use me to get to her," she told him, her breath rasping through her lips.