Free Dark Obsession by Amanda Stevens Page B

at the street. “Have you talked to Gerard?” she persisted.
    His gaze scanned the darkening sky, but he said nothing.
    “Look, you might as well answer my questions,” she said angrily. “I’m not going away until you do.”
    He started walking down the street toward his car.
    “I’m sure you’ve made the connection in all this,” she called after him. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you what it is.”
    He kept walking.
    “It’s vampires,” she said. A man passing by on the street gazed at her in shock. Then he hurried his steps.
    But Slade’s stride never slowed. He said over his shoulder, “Sounds like you’re starting to believe your own stories.”
    Exasperated, Erin started up the street after him. “Surely you have to realize it’s more than a coincidence that I write books about vampires, my sister was cast in a play about one, and then she turns up dead, all the blood…” Erin trailed off, unable to finish. Every time she thought about what had happened to Megan, the world around her began spinning madly out of control. When she thought about what she was saying, what she was actually thinking…
    Slade stopped and turned so swiftly Erin had to dig her heels into the pavement to keep from plowing into him. His scarred hands reached out and grabbed hershoulders. “Just what the hell are you trying to say, Erin? That you believe in vampires? That you think one killed your sister? Where is she then? Why isn’t she one?” he taunted.
    Erin swallowed hard. “I’m not saying I actually believe in vampires. I’m saying someone who thinks he’s a vampire might have killed Megan. Someone who read my books or saw her in Gerard’s play. Someone with a twisted mind who can’t distinguish fantasy from reality.”
    “There’s only one problem with that theory. Gerard’s play hasn’t opened yet.”
    “I know, but there have been plenty of rehearsals, and there are dozens of people connected with the play, including Gerard. That’s exactly why I wanted to talk to him.”
    “And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t,” he warned grimly. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair, as if suddenly weary of the conversation. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll drive you home.”
    Erin shivered inside her coat. Twilight had fallen in earnest while they stood talking. She didn’t relish walking home in the dark, but neither could she accept Slade’s offer, obviously made out of some misplaced sense of obligation. “Thanks, but I don’t like to be indebted,” she said tersely. “To anyone.”
    He turned his head toward her. “What do you think I’d demand in restitution? Your soul?” For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence. Then heopened the door of his car, and without another word, Erin slid inside.
    His car was a little like riding in a bullet, she decided. Low and lean and fast as lightning. The close confines made her even more aware of the man sitting beside her. She sneaked a glance at his rigid profile. He turned his head slowly, and she found herself captured by his shielded gaze.
    “So tell me how you came to be a horror writer.”
    Erin raised a brow at his tone. “You mean, how does someone like me dream up stories about vampires? Not to mention werewolves and ghosts and other things that go bump in the night?”
    “Something like that.”
    “My therapist suggested I try it. For my own good, of course.”
    One brow tilted above his glasses. “What kind of therapy made you become a horror writer?” The trace of irony in his tone made Erin smile.
    “I guess it does sound a little strange. I’ve always been plagued by nightmares, ever since Megan and I were kids. My mother used to leave us alone at night a lot. Sometimes she wouldn’t come back for several days. She would warn us before she left that there were monsters living in the basement, waiting to grab us if we left the apartment.
    “Over the years, those nightmares sometimes became real to me. I