The stereo was turned up. Any louder and the shitty in-dash speakers would began to rattle and reverb. The Princes of Darkness second album was playing six cuts in, The Crypt. Kyle Silver's wails about a girl growing up in an underground tomb accompanied by the thrashing guitars overlay the awkward silence. Alicia was dreading the impending need to talk to discuss when and where to stop for food as the digital clock climbed toward noon.

To say that the morning had sucked would be an understatement.

Brett's hammering on her door had awoken her out of a manic dream. Sweat slicked her hair and left her face and palms clammy. She wondered if the motel had turned on the heat to combat the frigid night temperatures but the archaic air-conditioning unit groaned from the window like a truck engine. The only light came from the pre-dawn gray filtering from behind the blinds.

"What the hell is it?" she demanded as she yanked open the door.

Brett stood there with a stupid, stunned look on his face. Was it from being yelled at or the sight of Alicia in tank-top and panties? She guessed it was her near nakedness, from the way his eyes gravitated to her bra-less chest.

After a moment that dragged on longer than it had any right to, Brett remembered where he was and why he was there. "You said to wake you if he left. Well, Blass is on the move."

"Really? Where's he going?" She headed back into the room and asked the questions. If they were going to do this, it would be better not to do it out on the gallery, even if it was unlikely other people would be around at that hour.

"North. Unfortunately the tracker can't predict his destination. Maybe one day when we have the technology and the knowhow and psychics in embryonic tanks..."

"Can it. It's too early for sarcasm."

"It's never too early for sarcasm." And when she wouldn't take the bait he said, "Should we follow him?"

"What about Hyena? Ballard and Tazaki should be on him."

"They're not answering. "

Alicia yanked her damp hair back with both hands as she paced. This wasn't good. Not at all good. "Great."

"I do not think that word means what you think it means."

Alicia ignored him. "They've been taken out."

"You can't possibly know that."

"Yeah? Well were the fuck is Eagle? They're the senior team and they've been radio silent for a day now. Hyena's gone. It's just us. And I'm going to have to call New Hampshire."

Brett sat down on the bed. He was despondent like a sulking child. "I don't think you should."

There was no point getting into that argument again. She'd say they had to for the mission and he'd try and talk her out of it—like she really wanted to do it in the first place. The fight always ended the same way too. Alicia would ask him if he had a better idea and Brett would surrender with a lookof hopelessness.

But it was all theoretical. Or it was until now.

The situation had become clear: cut off from headquarters and their superiors, they had no choice. After all, what the hell were they supposed to do after making contact with the Beast? Drive around aimlessly staying at motor inns until the feds scooped them all up. They needed a safe-house. They needed support.

But contacting New Hampshire was a betrayal.

Not many people knew the full story about the New Hampshire chapter of the Society of the Immortal Blood, but even the most clueless, like Brett, had heard the snide comments and the whispered rumors that were tinged with fearful awe. Officially, they were all one happy family but it was clear that the New Hampshire church was the crazy uncle who nobody invited to holiday dinners.

Alicia only knew the inside scoop because Janet had confided in her during a survival training exercise. It was a bit of a fireside ghost story before bed. The way Janet told it, the tale seemed on par with the casting out of Lucifer. One of Rev. Silver's most trusted disciples openly confronting him on doctrine and the direction of the society. It happened less than ten years ago but on the night Janet told the tale, with the darkness of the woods all around, it seemed like events from some ancient, primordial age. The rebel was called Kyle Granger.  Back then and he was a charismatic young man filled with fire and rage. He wanted the community to take a more active role in the apocalypse—why wait when you could help it along? Rev. Silver maintained that wasn't their calling. They were there to usher it in and aid the Holy Beast.

Instead of being excommunicated, Kyle Granger was allowed to leave and took a small number of followers with him to the east, where he formed his own chapter. This was announced as a strategic plan to spread the group's interests around the country.

It diffused the situation and prevented an open revolt which may have forced many to pick sides. People were afraid if that happened, St. Straffer (as he now called himself) would stir up enough support to rend the group in two and possibly cause its demise. So St. Straffer slunk off to New Hampshire. At the new compound in the White Mountains, he joined forces with a local militia group and at least one other religious sect devoted to the approaching Armageddon. It was a radical bastardization of what the rest of the society believed. There were reports of barbaric initiation rituals and blood sacrifices.

As an agent for the collective, Alicia had been told to memorize their contact number and then to never use it. Calling the center in New Hampshire was going outside of the family. It was the ultimate last resort. She hadn't thought the possibility would even come up until after civilization was collapsing and communication lines became blocked.

But no one had heard from headquarters since Monday, what other choice was there?

The possibility of calling had made Alicia frayed and her subconscious had twisted her worries and fears into an awful dream. Now that same nightmare was making those anxieties worse. It felt like some horrible omen.

With Brett sitting on the bed watching her, Alicia knew she couldn't chicken out so she carefully typed the number into her phone and waited for it to connect. She went to the window so she wouldn't have to see Brett look at her. He seemed to be undecided on whether to ogle or plead to her with his eyes not to go through with it.

The line took forever to connect and begin ringing but once the long silence was over, it only took one bell before it was picked up with a crisp, "Hello." The voice was alert and impatient.

Alicia wanted to be uncertain—to pretend that possibly she had woken up some shopkeeper or reached a farmer finishing up breakfast. But she knew it was a lie she was telling herself.

She sucked in a mouthful of air to give fuel to her voice. "Days of Ash and Rain," she started. Another Princes of Darkness song. This one from their last album. It was the code for critical mission in jeopardy. "Nevada has gone black. Awaiting instructions."

The voice on the other end didn't answer and for a moment, Alicia wondered if it wasn't some farmer with an empty bowl of cornflakes in front of him. But then it said, "Understood. We have your number. You'll get a call within the hour."

They called back ten minutes later and it was a different Kyle from earlier. He asked for a brief summary of the situation and told her they had already dispatched a team to Nevada to investigate after seeing reports about it on the news yesterday. There was an accident and a big fire. "No survivors" the article had said. Everyone at the compound was dead.

Kyle told her to keep on Blass and bring the Holy Beast in at the earliest opportunity.

And if Blass made trouble?

"You're clear to use any and all force necessary. Just stay out of the hands of law enforcement."

Alicia got a new, direct number and was told to report in when the situation changed.

Now they just drove nervously. They had nothing to say to one another. Alicia wondered if Brett had lost anyone he cared for. She had Janet. How the hell could she be gone? It seemed like a mistake. She couldn't just be dead because of a few lines of text on a website. Alicia should somehow feel it—she needed to see it, touch it. Her sorrow and anger seemed to mingle with her dream and forced her to relive it.

Alicia had dreamed she was there, in New Hampshire.

How she knew it was there was one of those mysteries of dreams. She just knew it was there, despite never being further east than Ohio. A bonfire overwhelmed the night. Its brightness eclipsed all the darkness around her. Its heat radiated like a sun in supernova and made the summer warmth at her back seem chilled. The cracks and growls of flame consuming wood hid the soft chatter of those around her.

A cloud of sparks took flight like fireflies and she followed them with her eyes mesmerized. That's when she saw the white figure approaching.

It was hard to tell where her white dress ended and where skin and hair began. In the stark light of the fire, it was all the same shade of nothingness. Alicia fell to her knees prostrate before her and she felt the others by the fire do the same. Alicia had the very clear, very distinct thought, this how things are done here in New Hampshire.

Alicia's head was bowed down, so how did she know the woman smirked while she looked down at her?

Your mind is open tonight, she said. No. She didn't speak. The voice was in Alicia's head. Forget your orders. Forget your loyalties. In the days ahead protect yourself. Because without you, I am lost.

Alicia felt the words bore their way into her, ingrain themselves in her DNA. It was as though the woman in white had taken a quill and etched them onto her soul. In that same dream logic, Alicia understood that she would carry this message with her forever.

"Rise." The woman in white's voice rang out across the clearing for the first time. The loose individuals around the bonfire stood as one being and surged forward. Alicia felt their closeness as they crowded in. Arms hanging by her arms. Legs walking beside her legs.

"You have been chosen," the woman addressed the gathering. "You will be my right hand. You will fight for me and I will lend you my strength. Now feel the power and hunt!" She threw back her head and a cry escaped her mouth. It felt similar to the intense power of the words in Alicia's head, except this was a guttural noise with no meaning. It sparked something deep within her—something dormant and ancient. She fell deep within herself and the part of her known as Alicia was lost.

The rest of the dream was strange, frightening fragments. Running past trees. Jumping over a stream. Someone stirs up a nest of wild turkeys and a bird darts in Alicia's path. She's on it. Feathers flying. Bones snapping. Blood caressing her lips. Meat tearing between her teeth. Slimy innards dripping out over her chipped nails and scrapped knuckles.

Even hours later in the car, part of her still felt trapped back there, more animal than human, giving into bestial urges. It somehow seemed related to the death of her friends. Death linking to death.

There was an accident. There was a fire.

What kind of accident could have killed all of them?

Since starting this mission, everything seemed to move toward death. Alicia decided if the dream had any meaning at all, it was the age old law: kill or be killed.And she was just another animal in the wilderness.