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imagined it would be so rich and
even better than the wine her mother sometimes let her sip. Oh,
well. Next time.

    She rode down in the elevator with Orson and
his friend, Luther, a tall, pale-faced man with long, black hair
who was seriously creeping her out. He kept watching her with his
big black eyes that held such an intensity she wasn't sure she ever
wanted to see them alone.
    They ate breakfast downstairs, the three of
them sitting at a table in a corner, and the fourth time she caught
him staring at her, Lucy couldn't help herself.
    " Take a picture, dude. It'll last
longer."
    Orson looked up from his bacon and eggs.
"What's wrong?"
    " Why does your friend keep staring at
me like that? It's weird."
    Orson grinned and glanced at Luther, then
back at Lucy. He leaned toward her and whispered. "He wants to kill
you, Lucy."
    She felt a coldness spill inside her
gut.
    " Why?"
    " It's what he does. He can't help
himself. He's sitting there imagining draining you in our bathtub.
But don't worry. I've told him you're off-limits. Told him you
might even be one of us."
    She glared at Luther. "You don't scare
me."
    He said. "You look like you're scared,
little girl."
    " Oh, you can read my thoughts? Well,
if you could, you'd know I'm thinking how pretty your dark blood
would look running out of your snow-white neck."
    Orson laughed out loud. "Isn't she
great?"
    Lucy hadn't averted her eyes from Luther,
soaking in the psychotic malevolence.
    " All right, listen," Orson said. "I
think we're all a little hard-up for some fun. I had an idea while
I was falling asleep last night. Darling's room is already a wreck.
Why don't we all, together ,
find someone to take there this afternoon?"
    Lucy's eyes lit up. "Really?"
    " Yeah, we'll go right after Andrew
Thomas's speech." Orson smiled. "I wouldn't want to miss that." He
looked at Luther. "What do you think? You brought your toolbox,
right?"
    Luther smiled, and it was the scariest thing
Lucy had ever seen.

    For some reason, Orson didn't want to sit on
the front row for Andrew Thomas's speech, so Lucy sat by herself,
her heart pumping as the man walked up onto the stage.
    She stood with the rest of the crowd and
applauded the guest of honor, then sat with rapt attention as
Andrew read an excerpt from a work in progress, one of the most
gruesome and awesome things Lucy had ever heard.
    The book was called The Passenger , a horror novel about
an unnamed, psychopathic hitchhiker who travels around the country
getting free rides from people, then robbing and killing them most
horribly. In the section Andrew read, the Passenger ties a man to
the back of his own car and drags him down the highway for five
miles.

    The signing line stretched all the way
around the bookroom. The eight books in Lucy's arms were heavy, and
by the time she got close to the table, her muscles were beginning
to cramp.
    She couldn't take her eyes off of Andrew as
he signed books and made small talk with the fans. When it was
finally her turn, she set her stack of books on the table and
smiled and reached out her hand.
    " Mr. Thomas, I am your biggest fan.
I've read everything you ever wrote. I'm Lucy. I love what you read
today. Will you sign my books?"
    He shook her hand and smiled. "Of
course."
    " Um, I'm sorry, Mr. Thomas can only
sign three books." Lucy looked at the woman standing behind the
writer, a large woman in a horrific dress who looked like a
librarian.
    " But I want all of them
signed."
    The woman pursed her lips. "If everyone
brought eight books, we'd be here until Christmas."
    " But everyone didn't bring eight
books. Most only brought one."
    " Pick three. You're holding up the
line."
    Lucy glanced down at Andrew, flashed her
puppy dog eyes.
    " Margie, I think it's okay to make one
exception," he said, grabbing the top book on Lucy's pile and
opening it to the cover page. As he looked down to sign, Lucy stuck
her tongue out at Margie.
    " So are you in high school, Lucy?" he
asked as he went through the