After more than twelve hours of sleep interrupted only by the occasional bathroom break, Richard woke to sunlight peeking in around the edges of the heavy hotel drapes. He stood in the powerful spray of the shower, letting the hot water work magic on the kinks in his muscles, and dressed in a fresh change of WalMart clothes.

Stanley arranged for a cab to take them to a place called "Al's Breakfast."

"Don't understand why we gotta go traipsing all over town. They got coffee and muffins right here in the hotel," Richard said.

"Coffee and muffins are for businessmen dashing off to their next meeting. After a certain age, it becomes important for a man to properly nourish himself."

The elevator dinged open and they entered the lobby. A powerful smell of roses filled the air and Richard paused to inhale deeply. Each of his senses seemed more acute than they had been in a long time, as though the adrenaline of the Strigoi attack had blown the cobwebs out of his pipes.

We should hurry," Stan said, glancing around the lobby.

"If you're in a hurry, we can get coffee and muffins right back there."

"No, no. I just..." he trailed off, seeming distracted. "I don't want them to run out of food, you know. They're quite popular."

"You make about as much sense as boobs on a man."

Stanley roared with laughter. "Come on, my friend. You'll love Al's. I promise."

He was right. Richard nearly moaned in pleasure over the thick Belgian waffle smothered in cream cheese and strawberries. He hadn't had a breakfast like this since the accident that led to him being hospitalized for hip surgery and then sent to Everest. It was even more delicious than he remembered! How could he have ever taken cheese for granted? Cheese was a gift from God.

Stanley smiled at him over his fancy omelet. "Al's never disappoints."

Richard couldn't quite bring himself to admit out loud that Stan had been right. Coffee and muffins didn't hold a candle to this. This kind of food did more than nourish the body. It gave a man a reason to stay alive until his next meal. He settled with, "I still think we need to get a move on."

The other man's eyes were scanning the restaurant.

"You lookin' for somethin'?"

Stanley met his gaze. "No, of course not. Just admiring the industry of this diverse group."

Richard frowned. He had the feeling there was more going on than he knew, and being made to feel foolish always put him in a surly mood. Still, it was hard for a man to stay angry when sweet starbursts of joy were exploding out of ripe strawberries and into his mouth. He sipped at the dark coffee, letting the flavor of the slightly bitter brew mix with the sweetness of his food.

The noise level in the restaurant shifted, drawing Richard's eyes to the door. A stunning young woman stood just inside. It seemed every eye in the place was on her, and it was no mystery why. She must have been nearly six feet tall with a glossy blonde braid that hung over one shoulder and almost to her waist. Her black pants could have been painted onto her long, shapely legs. A sliver of tanned skin shown between her belt and the bottom of the t-shirt that stretched across her ample bosom.

"Dagom! That girl's a tall drink o' water on a hot summer day," Richard mumbled, not really meaning to say the words out loud. An inexplicable tingle ran down his spine. It was the sensation his mother would have described by saying a ghost walked over her grave.

Stanley slapped a few bills on the table hard enough to make him jump. "Time to go."

"What? But I still have--"

"Dick, there's no time to waste. I need to be to Spearfish South Dakota by nightfall if we're going to keep to the schedule!"

Richard found himself sputtering and protesting in confusion at the quick change of pace as Stanley pressed him on toward a back door between the lavatories.

"This makes the walk to the car shorter," he said before Richard could even ask why they were going that way. "No time to waste."

They made their way through a narrow alley, around the corner and into a parking garage where Stanley told Richard to wait by the entrance while he went for the car.

Once he was in the car, Richard focused his gaze on the other man. "You want to tell me what the devil's going on?"

The tires squealed on the smooth concrete when Stanley hit the gas. "The Devil is just exactly what's going on, my friend. Some beasts weren't meant to be hunted, even by the Hunters."

"You senile?"

"If I was, I don't suppose I'd be aware of it." He took a hard left onto a narrow street and banked right toward the entrance ramp for the expressway.

Richard grabbed the dash and hung on for dear life. Thoughts of the fiery car crash that was sure to happen at any moment chased away his questions for a few minutes, but as the city skyline fell away, he asked again, "What's going on? What happened back there?"

Stanley sighed. "I suppose you know enough now that you might as well know it all." He glanced over at Richard, but his expression was hidden by the dark glasses that had once again been placed over his eyes. "Any hunter will tell you that there is always something bigger and meaner out there, hunting the hunters. Everything has a natural predator."

Richard scowled. "You tellin' me somethin's after you?"

"There is something out there that is bigger and more evil than anything I'm capable of taking down on my own. It's not after me, specifically." He checked his blind spot, signaled, and moved into the left lane to go around a motorhome. "I don't think." He pulled back over to the right. "Well, maybe."

"Hmph. Well, that's comforting."

"Did I give you the impression I live a life of comfort and safety? Have I deceived you in some way?"

"Darn right you deceived me. Leaving out important facts is as much as lying."

"I can't tell you all the facts, Dick. Not in two days. It took me the better part of a century to learn what I know."

"And what did you know this morning, when you insisted we go out for breakfast."

A muscle jumped in Stanley's cheek. "I didn't know anything."

"Don't talk in technicalities. There ain't no loopholes in honesty. Truth is truth. What did you suspect?"

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his lips pressed into a thin line. Richard didn't really expect he was going to get an answer at all, but after a moment, he spoke.

"Every living creature carries a certain energy. Something that makes you feel good, calm, relaxed, angry, fearful, or sad in their presence. Your wife--could you feel her in the house, even when you couldn't see or hear her?"

Richard thought of those long ago days when he would come home from the plastics factory and step through the back door. Every day, he was wrapped in the miracle of coming home. After she died, it was never home again. It was just a roof over their heads. "Yeah. I know what you mean," he said.

"There are creatures so powerful that their energy can change the energy of an entire city. This morning, when I woke up, I felt it. I knew she was in the hotel. I could smell her."

"Her?" The pieces clicked together. "The good lookin' dame at the restaurant?"

Stanley nodded.

Richard frowned and tried to remember if he'd felt threatened by her. He hadn't. Certainly not in the way he'd felt threatened by the creature in the nursing home. If he was to be honest he'd have to admit he'd been drawn to her. Parts of him stirred that hadn't stirred in so long he'd figured they were dead. But, at the same time, there had been that tingle of dread. The fear made her that much more desirable, like forbidden fruit. Well. That was one thought he wouldn't be sharing with Stan Kapcheck.

He reached for the water bottle that sat in the little cup holder on the seat beside him. A long drink helped clear the lump in his throat away so he could ask the next question. "Who was she?"

"She's The Devil."

Richard pursed his lips. "Fine. Make fun. Don't tell me."

"She's The Devil. Lucifer. Abbadon. Beelzebub. Satan. Prince of the Power of the Air. Call her whatever you want. That's what she is."

"But..." What was there to say? He blinked at the wide gray ribbon of road unrolling before them.

When Stanley spoke again his tone had relaxed and softened. No trace of anxiety remained. His voice was seasoned with humor once more. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"A knockout."

"Nice, too. When she's not unleashing Hell, I mean. She'll say things that'll melt your withered old heart like butter. And she smells exactly like roses in summer."

Richard's hands rose up, seeming to grasp for some explanation, and then fell back into his lap. "But..." he said again.

"Precisely."

They were halfway to Sioux Falls before Richard even realized he was still sitting there with his mouth hanging open.