Chapter 7

I found Sophie sitting in the corner of the dark living room. I could tell she had fed, but it seemed like she had been waiting for me for quite a while. I sat down across the room and stared at her. No one spoke for several minutes.

"Was it who I think?" she finally asked.

"Jeremiah Thornbird," I answered. "Do you know who that is?"

"Yes," she said with a nod. I suspected she would. The preacher turned hunter had become quite a legend among our kind.

"It will never happen again," I said sternly. "His days are numbered now."

"Do you plan to kill him?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"But you can't," she protested. "Killing a hunter isn't allowed. Someone will come for you." The someone she referred to was one of our peers. There was an unwritten rule against killing a hunter. Most of them were religious zealots who spent their time trying to convince the world that we existed. They wrote books, handed out pamphlets, and appeared on low-budget talk shows. Society thought they were crazy. It was a rule that none of them should be harmed because it might draw attention and cause people to believe them. Killing a hunter was only acceptable if your life was in immediate danger.

"Let them come," I said in response to Sophie's statement. "That casket meant more to me than anything I've ever owned. He'll pay for what he's done."

Sophie jumped out of her chair and crossed the room. She knelt in front of me and placed her hands on mine. "Please Darien," she pleaded. "This is madness. They'll kill you."

I shook my hands free and stood up, pushing her aside. "Please," she called to me. "You can't do this." I started to walk away and she followed. "What if," she stammered. "What if you could do something to hurt him the way he did you?"

"How?" I growled. "He has nothing that means that much."

"He has a daughter," she said. "A daughter that he cherishes more than anything."

I stopped and turned to face her. "What?" I demanded. "How do you know this?"

"Mortimer told me," she said. Mortimer was one of the few of our kind that I socialized with regularly. I liked him, but I still felt a twinge of jealousy when I thought about him spending time alone with Sophie. She continued talking. "Mortimer said he had a daughter that was born just before his wife was killed by Ravyn." It was widely known that the enigmatic Ravyn had killed the preacher's wife when he was a young man. Almost eighteen years had passed since it happened. "He adores her, and she lives here in Atlanta. Do you want revenge? Kill her."

I stood silently as I thought her idea through. "That's brilliant," I said finally. "He'll never expect that. It will be much easier. We could kill her before the end of the week."

Sophie put a hand on my shoulder. "Not ‘we'", she said. "You. I can't stay here. I'm leaving tonight. I'm too scared. I have to get away from all of this."

I took a step back. "What?" I said. "You just got here, and now you're leaving, when I need you most. I want to be with you, Sophie."

"Then come with me," she said. "Put all of this behind you and come with me." "I can't do that," I said.

"And I can't stay," she answered. She leaned in closely, crushing her bosom against my chest, and kissed my cheek softly. "I knew you wouldn't come, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. Goodbye, Lover, until we meet again."

"Will we meet again?" I asked with a hint of anger. "Or were you only coming back because of the casket? Because it had a grip on you like it did me?"

I noticed a solitary red tear rolling down her pale cheek. "Don't say that to me, Darien. It did have a grip on me, but it was the longing to be close to you that always drew me. You know I'll be back."

She leaned close again and this time our lips met. We kissed slowly and passionately. My hands felt out the ripe body concealed by her tight velvet dress. I rubbed her ass and felt the thong beneath her dress. I could feel my penis stirring, and part of me longed to strip her down and make love on the floor, but I knew it would not be right. Our kiss ended, and we embraced, and then we said farewell. Sophie turned and left. I didn't know when I would see her again, but I felt positive that I would.

Several hours later I hid in the woods of a small farm outside the city. It was less than 50 miles from downtown, yet there were no signs of urban life.

The land was covered by rolling hills-the first signs of the Appalachian Mountains. The next house was almost a mile away.

I knew this was Thornbird's place. He had left his home in south Alabama several years early in hopes of finding more support for his cause in the big city. I had been cautiously aware of his movement for years, although I had never had an encounter with him. I had retained the services of an ambitious lawyer several years earlier who managed my ample wealth. Mr. Tiller had been keeping track of the reverend and a few other people I was concerned with for several years. He never asked any questions, as long as he was paid, although I'm sure he had his suspicions.

There were several guards on the property. Thread feared some sort of retaliation. I easily walked among the men without being detected. They would never notice me in the shadows unless I wanted them to.