One rainy day, six teenagers (along with some recording equipment) were sent out into the wilds of the Pacific Northwest. Their mission: to combat the paranormal while still making a multi-million dollar grossing feature film. They have yet to return. . . .

Day One (cont.)

"She's not only dead, Elisa," M declared. "She was murdered." She turned to face the assembled group. "And not by any normal being."

"Like, what do you mean?" Grant tried to get a closer look at the corpse, but the only lights came from the Taurus.

Paul had the best view through the lens with the camera in 0 lux night mode. He zoomed in to study the black and white image. "No visible wounds."

"Check the wrists," M advised.

Elisa yelped. "Eww! You want one of us to touch it?!"

"Wimp," Raven muttered. "Shove off!" She pushed Elisa out of the way, descending like her avian namesake. She roughly grabbed one of the victim's wrists and examined it. She shook her head and checked the other. Her eyes narrowed as she got closer for a better view. "Paul, zoom in on this and tell me if you see what I see."

"Puncture wound. No, make that two. About five centimeters apart." The camera showed to miniscule dots above a major vein.

"But that wouldn't kill anyone would it?" Elisa asked in horror.

"No, if you had only two small holes in your wrist, you would not die," M replied calmly.

"Ritual killing?" Raven asked. M shook her head.

"Vamp," Paul stated bluntly. "By the width of the marks, I'd say male. Probably young and inexperienced or very angry. Or maybe he'd gone too long without feeding."

"Why do you say that?" Raven dropped the woman's wrist and stepped back.

"This could have just been an accident in which the vamp lacked the self-control to only take a little or he might have been desperate. The anger part would be outright murder one, but those are becoming rarer. Not all vampires are out to kill people. You've just been watching too much 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer.'" Raven blushed slightly at that.

Grant cocked his head to one side. "So you mean there's good vampires?"

"Sure." He handed the camera off to Grant. "There are good and bad vampires just like there are good and bad humans. Vampires just have a more impressive reputation."

Raven's eyes resembled catlike slits. "I don't know about this." She ran a hand up her other arm and slowly removed an ornate silver dagger from inside her sleeve. Moonlight glinted off of the leathal blade as she took a step towards Paul. "How do we know he's not some sort of crackpot sympathiser?" She took yet another step closer. "Or maybe he's one of them. We don't know who you are—what you are. Why should we trust you?"

"You know as much about me as anyone else in this group. Why should you trust anyone?"

"You know too much, and I don't trust you."

"I looked out for you today, didn't I?"

"A simple ploy. Give me one reason why I shouldn't stake you right now, vampyre."

"Because he's a slayer." M's voice was as calm as ever.

Raven whirled to confront M when her dagger was knocked out of her hand and one arm was twisted ruthlessly behind her back.

"Never let your guard down," Paul whispered in her ear.

"Ahem. Back to the murder." M folded her hands behind her back. "Note that the victim is well-dressed; she drives an expensive vehicle."

"Let me go!" Raven hissed.

Elisa sniffed the air. "Chanel No. 5, I think. And a trace of cologne. Dracula has some class; this lady has a Christian Dior gown."

"A refined vampire. Wonderful." Raven stomped a Doc Marten down on Paul's foot and he released her. "Oh, well. I guess you're next, Elisa." She picked her dagger up off of the ground. "I think you'll be needing this more than me."

"Hey guys," Grant called from behind the camera. "Blair says we're supposed to stay here tonight."

"In the middle of nowhere with a vampire on the loose?" Elisa squeaked.

"There's a small hotel a couple of miles down the road." Surprisingly, no one questioned Grant's knowledge.

"Hello. There's a fashion-model corpse out here in a car." Raven spoke as if the others were deranged. "Don't you think we should call the cops or the FBI or something?"

"They're on their way."

Raven looked at M in disbelief. Was everybody crazy? Apparently, even Elisa agreed with her (for once).

The group traveled in silence for the last couple miles of the night. Raven was in shock and Elisa frightened, while Grant happily filmed away. M and Paul were engrossed with theory and intrigue. At Elisa's gasp, four heads shot up.

"It's gorgeous!"

"What the heck is that?" Raven demanded.

"I believe it is known as a luxury resort," Paul answered drolly.

Raven glared at him. "Thank you, Mr. Spock. What is it doing out in the middle of no—oh, nevermind."

They pulled up to the front entrance of the enormous establishment. The massive oak double doors emitted a golden glow of light into the darkness of evening. With luggage in hand, the group advanced on the columned building. Grant whistled a bit of "We're Off to See the Wizard."

"It's just like The Haunting of Hill House," Raven whispered.

"'It had stood for ninety years and might stand for ninety more,'" Paul quoted.

M and Blair moved ahead to throw the doors open.

"Where's a bellboy when you need one," Elisa whined, pulling an immense suitcase on wheels behind her.

The hotel was strangely deserted. In fact, they wondered whether it was actually a working hotel or not. When they divided up to their respective rooms, Raven hurriedly dropped off her bag and ducked out. She didn't think she could handle being cooped up in a room with Elisa for long. Raven wandered the vast hallways and went back down the grand staircase. All she needed was a ballgown to become Cinderella in this environment. One of the downstairs doorways led to a small salon with a gleaming ebony baby grand piano. She shut the door, hoping it was soundproof, and sat down on the cushioned bench. Her fingers ran over the keys of their own volition, plucking out snippets of songs—all she could remember without the score. She didn't notice when the door quietly opened to admit a visitor, but it took her only a matter of moments to sense another presence in the room. She abruptly withdrew her hands from the keyboard, stood, and turned a hostile gaze on the intruder.

"Vampire slayer, huh?"

Paul reached into his pocket, and Raven immediately went for her dagger. He pulled out his wallet and tossed it to her. She caught it easily in her empty hand and flipped it open. "Paul Bryan Kariya," she read aloud. "Like the hockey player?"

"I get that a lot."

"'Licensed Vampire Hunter in the Provinces of Canada.' Canada?"

"I'm from Toronto."

"Well, I hate to break it to ya, but this isn't Canada."

He smiled. "Diplomatic immunity."

Raven casually replaced her dagger. "So, is there a big vampire problem in Toronto?"

"You still don't trust me, do you." He closed the gap between them so they were nearly eye to eye.

She tried to take a step back, but the piano bench blocked her path. "You're invading my personal space. Please leave." She shoved the wallet at him and watched him go. When the door shut and she was once again alone, she returned to the piano. It wasn't long before she heard the door open again. "Paul, I told you to get the hell away from me!" she growled, turning to the door.

"Pardon me," the stranger's voice held a trace of a French accent. "I heard the music; then I wanted to make sure that insolent being had not harmed you."

Raven was momentarily speechless. This guy deserved superlatives she was too dazed to think of at the moment. He was beyond handsome (not to mention that the accent added points as well). He was quite tall, impeccably dressed, and very fair-skinned, with soft blond hair and eyes that from this distance appeared a sky blue. "Uh, no, I'm fine, thank you." Her wits had begun to return. "How did you know?"

"There are cameras everywhere, non? I happened to pass a television. Oh, but where are my manners? Please, sit down. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jean-Pierre Lucre, and you, mademoiselle?"

"Raven Kavanaugh. Are you a guest at the hotel?"

"Ah, yes, you could say that." He stepped closer and Raven could see that his eyes were not blue but actually a mesmerizing silvery-grey. Raven was starting to feel very weary.

"Forgive me, but I should get going. It's late." She stood up and started towards the door when he reached out and grabbed her hand. His skin felt surprisingly cold. Not clammy, just cool.

"May I see you again? Tomorrow evening in the grand ballroom."

Raven had no idea what came over her. She looked up into his eyes and nodded. Then, before she could get herself into more trouble her feet started moving and she reached for the doorknob.

"A bientot."

Until next time.
 

Grant had not neglected his filming duties and he had seen it all. He didn't like what he saw one bit and ran to find M.