a row of frozen pasta for dinner. Not that she was counting.

Georgia popped the top off yet another bottle of Corona and took a long draw. She leaned back against the counter. The microwave hummed behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at the digital clock on the unused stove. Sighed.

Nearly six o'clock, and still no sign of deCompostela. The pang of disappointment in her chest chafed at her pride. She should have known better than to believe he would stop by. He'd already made it abundantly clear he thought she was out of her mind.

Truth be told, the possibility had occurred to her. It had been a week since the new moon, and she hadn't seen hide nor hair of... _it_. Whatever _it_ was. If not forfeet. "I'm not really sure where to..."

Darius sighed. "You came into the office because you thought something was following you. I'm guessing you meant that...whatever-that-was." He paused. "I'm also guessing you know why it's after you."

Georgia walked over to the couch and sat down heavily. She rubbed her face with both hands.

Darius continued, carefully gauging her reactions. "You said you witnessed something. Want to tell me about it?"

She looked up sharply, opened her mouth, then shut it again. Then she nodded and took a deep breath. "You know that mass murder up in Forest Hill? The one that's been on the news all week?"

The room seemed to go still around him. "I thought they said there were no survivors."

She looked away. "There weren't."

Barely suppressed anguish pulsed from her