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 Two 8:40 a.m.

"Dia duit, a Elisa. Conas tá tú?"

"It's too early, Raven." Elisa buried her face in her pillow. "And that's the worst Spanish accent I've ever heard."

"That's because it's Gaeilge, not Spanish." Raven resisted the urge to kick her into wakefulness. Elisa was still in bed, whereas Raven had already showered and dressed and was ready for their breakfast conference with M. "You've got twenty minutes."

"Until what? You go away? Won't that be nice."

"Until our meeting with M. Nine o'clock, downstairs. I do hope you can make it."

8:59 a.m.

"Dia duit. Good morning," Raven greeted the assembled group (minus Elisa).

"Dia is Muire duit," M replied cordially.

Raven did a double take, opened her mouth to comment, closed it again, and sat down.

"You seem nicer today," Grant commented, reaching for a donut in the center of the table.

"That's because I'm not stressed yet. Don't worry, by evening I'll be as curmudgeony as ever."

M glanced at her watch. "Where's Elisa?"

"Here!" She flew in the door, hair still tousled and makeup hastily done.

M stood at the head of the table. "Good. Now, it is time I provided you with some necessary information. You were all chosen for this mission based on certain individual talents and skills that you possess. Each of you is vital to our success. I hope that you will all be able to work as a cohesive unit and set aside your difficulties, although I will mediate if necessary." Her eyes moved to Raven and Elisa, in particular.

Paul rose from his seat. "But you haven't told us what the mission is."

"I am afraid I cannot tell you as yet," M replied. "It is not my decision to make. The first segment of our journey has brought us to this hotel. There is a murder to be solved--that of Cynthia Brook-Miller, the young woman we discovered last night."

"I think 'discovered' is hardly the word," Raven muttered.

"The fate of Ms. Brook-Miller is only the latest in a string of incidents. Ladies and gentlemen, we are in search of a vampire. His targets are young, beautiful, and often wealthy women. Not all of his victims die, however. Two women were brought over."

"What does that mean?" Grant asked, reaching for another donut.

"It's a euphemism for being made into a vampire," Paul answered.

"The perpetrator is a vampire variation on the serial rapist. He romances the women and then tries to bring them over. Some of his victims were adamant that they would rather die, and so they did. Three nights ago, Cynthia Brook-Miller disappeared from this hotel. Last night, we found her dead. Apparently, she did not wish to cross over and the vampire's attempts to force her failed."

"So you think he's working out of this location?" Raven asked.

"Exactly. Our goal is to stop him before he can claim another victim."

"How?" Paul was intrigued-this was right up his alley.

"A decoy. An attractive young woman to capture his attention so we can capture him." M was so pleased with the plan that she nearly smiled. All heads at the table turned to Elisa.

"Me?" Elisa squeaked. "You want me to be vampire bait?"

"You will receive vampire training today, along with Raven and Grant. You will be prepared for your task."

Paul placed a hand on Elisa's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the nasty old vampire doesn't get you."

"You are dismissed," M announced, and the meeting promptly broke up. "Paul, may I see you for a moment please?" She waited until all the others had left the room. "Grant came to me with some disturbing news last night. He saw a strange man speaking with Raven in one of the downstairs rooms. Have you seen this man?" Paul shook his head. "It is possible that the vamp has moved sooner than we expected and is already on the premises. I want you and Grant to keep a close eye on both Elisa and Raven, in case he targets either one. I entrust their training to you, as well. Make sure they are well informed on the subject. Dismissed."

1: 51 p.m.

"Paul, is it time for a break yet?" Elisa whined for the fifth time in as many minutes. She was sweaty, yucky, and greatly unhappy. Even her hair was limp and ragged.

"You had lunch just an hour ago, and besides, this is for your own benefit," Paul answered slowly. He dodged just in time to parry a blow from Raven. Her fighting style was certainly . . . unique.

"Yeah, you're the one that's going to be blood-sucker bait if you're not careful," Raven sang as she nearly decapitated Paul with her quarterstaff. She turned to smile at Grant, who was holding the camera, and mimicked Elisa's high voice. "Make sure you get my good side, dahling!"

Elisa was at the end of her rope. "Why you no class pagan hussy!"

"My, my, somebody's been reading." Raven was brutally patronizing. "Uh-uh! Don't mess with the woman with a big stick!" She thumped the quarterstaff on the floor for theatrical effect.

"Perhaps it is time to take a break," Paul interrupted, trying to prevent a murder. "Ladies, take a seat and we'll start Vampire Basics 101." Raven deposited her quarterstaff in a pile of other weapons they'd practiced with already and plunked a chair down between Grant and Paul. Elisa sat opposite her in the makeshift circle.

"All right. So far today we have concentrated on physical skill and combat. This is one of your greatest defenses against a vampire, but you must know how to fight. Vampires are stronger than mortals, on average. A vampire as petite as Blair could defeat Grant here in hand-to-hand combat. Weapons and the element of surprise are your greatest allies. Now, I assume you are all familiar with the traditional method of dispatching a vampire?"

"Wooden stake through the heart." Grant was like a puppy trying to please his owner.

"Exactly. These stakes are not anything special. I once used a broken chair leg, which worked quite well. However, if the stake is removed, the vampire can return. It isn't like on television where the vampires vaporize when staked. The only sure way to get rid of a vampire is to decapitate him."

Elisa shuddered. "I'm supposed to cut his head off? Ewww!"

"Silver is also quite effective against vampires, as are some holy relics. I have seen vamps before with burn scars from both. Crosses--generally silver ones--are sometimes painful to a vamp's eyes, strangely enough. A silver knife or sword, although not lethal, would slow down a vampire and cause him a great deal of pain. I also happen to carry this." He displayed a small sidearm. "Silver bullets come in handy once in awhile."

"How does one actually cross over?" Raven asked.

"A vampire would have to drain nearly all of the subject's blood, to the point of death. Then the inductee would drink some of the vampire's blood to thus go from dead to undead. A new vampire is very weak at first; they gain power over time. Those who become masters are several hundred years old, although some reach a plateau and do not progress further. The vampire we are dealing with is probably not very old. If he possessed greater power, all of his victims would have been brought over. One of a vampire's abilities is the power to control a weaker person's thoughts and read minds."

"Then Elisa will be an easy target," Raven grinned.

6:10 p.m.

Raven returned to her room to find a rather large, plain white box on her bed. She figured it was part of Elisa's extensive luggage and gave it a wide berth. Picking up her book from the table, she sat on the floor and started reading. Soon, Elisa emerged from the bathroom acting entirely too perky. Raven thought perkiness was akin to some disease and avoided it at all costs, but Elisa was practically giddy.

"Have you looked at your present?" Elisa looked like she was going to burst.

"Mine? I thought it was yours."

"I wish. I already peeked inside. Open it!"

Raven eyed the box warily. At least it wasn't ticking. She lifted the lid of the box and something inside glinted. The flash caused her to involuntarily step back, as a matter of caution.

"It's a Givenchy," Elisa practically screamed.

"A what?" Raven lifted the rather weighty item out of its box, revealing it to be a white and silver beaded gown. It looked to be about her size. She laid it gently on the bed and found a small, red velvet jeweler's box at the bottom. Inside it was a long strand of pearls with matching pearl and diamond earrings. A note was nestled inside the top of the box.

"Ma chère Raven," the bold, elegant handwriting read. "Please accept these gifts on my behalf. I hope that you may wear them this evening. I look forward to your presence. A bientôt, Jean-Pierre."

"A real Givenchy," Elisa gushed. "He must have money. Lots and lots of it. Oh, go try it on."

Raven acquiesced, gingerly picking up the gown and carrying it with her to the bathroom. Had Elisa been into some mind-altering drugs? Why was she acting like this? After some experimentation, Raven figured out how the dress was supposed to go on. She was surprised how well it fit. The beaded bodice had a moderate V-neck and a low back; it molded nicely to her small waist. The skirt was a gleaming white with a silver-beaded chiffon overlay. She appraised her image in the mirror: beautiful gown, long unruly hair, plain face, and midnight-blue eyes.

I look like a disco ball-mirrorball--whatever. She walked out to model for Elisa. The hem was a little long in her bare feet, so she had to hoist her skirts.

"Wow, like a princess." Somehow Elisa's comment conjured an image of rodents singing "Cinderelli cinderelli" in Raven's mind. "Here, I've been holding out on you." Elisa produced a pair of sparkling high-heels. The modest two-inch heels brought Raven to a considerable five-feet-ten. She towered over Elisa. "And now. . . ." Elisa advanced towards her with a large bag in hand.

Raven took up a defensive stance. "What?"

Elisa reached into the bag and removed a large, puffy brush. "Makeup. Well, hair first, then makeup."

"No. Unh-uh. Back off."

"It'll be fun."

What was wrong with the girl? A few hours back and Elisa would have killed her, given the chance. She decided to keep the peace. "Oh, all right."

Close to an hour later, Elisa declared she was finished. They only came close to violence once, when Elisa insisted on forcing Raven's long, heavy hair into some fancy updo. Compromise came in the form of a very fine french braid which trailed nearly to her waist. Elisa then twined the strand of pearls within the braid, weaving in and out. Raven took the path of least resistance with makeup, giving Elisa a free hand. The results were surprisingly good, although Raven had to draw the line at foundation. It was just too uncomfortable on her face.

When Elisa had declared her ready for society, Raven cautiously cracked the door open and inspected the hallway. Clear in both directions. She walked carefully, taking small steps in the unfamiliar pumps.

Paul opened his door just in time to see a figure in white heading towards the main staircase. "Wait!" he cried running towards her. She turned, and Paul skidded to a halt. "Raven. . . ." God, you look gorgeous. Of course, he wouldn't say such a thing aloud, but apparently the loose fitting black clothes hid one hell of a figure. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I don't need you playing big brother, thank you," she replied frostily.

"You're armed, at least, right?" She ignored him and bent down to apparently fix her shoe. The next thing he knew, an all too familiar dagger was too close to his throat for comfort. "Okay." He took a step back.

"Good night." Raven spun on her heel and headed down the stairs without looking back. When she reached the lobby, apprehension and anxiety struck. An admitted control freak of sorts, she was uncomfortable not knowing Jean-Pierre's plans. She didn't even know which room to go to. Pure intuition led her to a set of double doors on the far side of the hallway. The room was enormous, with vast windows open to the blue and violet post-sunset sky. An elegant chandelier hung from the ceiling over a long mahogany table. Tiny lights sparkled from the chandelier crystals, casting points of light throughout the room.

"How beautiful you look this evening."

Startled, Raven whirled at the voice and found herself eye to shoulder with Jean-Pierre. My, was he tall. He looked a little less pale today, and his dark suit offset his light coloring nicely. He offered her his arm and led her to the banquet table. Raven felt like she had stepped right into some gothic novel.

The author has chosen to abridge the following forty-five minutes because most of it was pretty mundane. Just think of the ballroom scene of "Beauty and the Beast" minus the music, and you'll basically have it covered. Dinner, a little dancing (far more interesting visually than in text), and light conversation.

Jean-Pierre whirled Raven around one more time before she protested dizziness. She really ought not to have had that wine--she felt a tad light headed. They went out into the cool night air on the verandah, and Raven felt disgustingly happy. She got the strangest feeling when she looked into his silvery eyes. It wasn't something she could put into words, just an odd feeling. Before her mind had time to register what was going on, Jean-Pierre pulled her closer to him and kissed her. She could've sworn she could feel sharp teeth, but maybe that was normal. It's not like she was any expert on the subject. A few seconds thereafter, her mind was in no condition to make any logical conclusion. He was certainly quite . . . amorous. The rest of the evening was rather a blur to Raven, although she enjoyed it.

The next morning Raven couldn't even remember having gone up to bed.