“So that’s what the tub is for,” I said. “They put them in there to…harvest what they needed without making too big a mess.”

“Could be,” Lucas said.

I met his gaze. “But you don’t think so.”

He picked up the journal and turned to a page near the end. “There are several references this year to immersion in source material Hm and Hf.”

“Elizabeth Báthory,” Cassandra murmured.

My gut sank, as I understood what they meant.

Elizabeth Báthory was a Hungarian countess who lived in the sixteenth century. According to legend, she’d killed six hundred and fifty young women, most of them peasants, and bathed in their blood because she believed it would grant her eternal youth. After several decades of killing, Báthory was arrested, tried, convicted, and put into a room. Then the door was bricked over.

It has been argued that Elizabeth Báthory was at least part of Bram Stoker’s inspiration for Dracula, perhaps even more than the equally sadistic and better known Vlad Dracul, from whom Stoker borrowed the name. In vampire society, it was generally believed that Elizabeth Báthory had been a vampire and that she’d been seeking, not eternal youth, but her youth for eternity—in other words, an immortality quester.

It was also rumored that her experiment had succeeded, that she had found eternal life and that the story of her death had been concocted, not by human officials, but by powerful elements within the vampire community. When they’d discovered her crimes—and, yes, killing six hundred humans was a crime even by vampire standards—they’d masterminded her arrest and trial. Then, the vampires themselves walled her up, where she remains to this day, having outlived every vampire who knew where she was imprisoned.

In covering up the success of her immortality experiments, her captors had tried to ensure such crimes would never be repeated. Yet the story, true or not, had been passed down through generations of immortality questers. Most didn’t dare replicate Báthory’s work but, about every hundred years or so, somebody tried.

“But to bathe in blood,” I said. “That would—each time you did it, you’d need to kill how many people? Where would they bury all those—?” I stopped, remembering the strange patchwork terrain out back. I swallowed. “I think I might know.”

After uncovering the fourth body, we stopped digging. All four corpses were drained of blood, and all in the ground less than a year, which meant they weren’t Edward and Natasha’s requisite annual kills. When we looked out over the patchwork of old-growth and new-growth meadow, we knew if we kept digging we’d find many more.

After ensuring that the artist was still unconscious, we returned to the cabin and took what we could for later examination. Then we drove to Edward and Natasha’s house in the cityand searched it again, now looking for hidden rooms and caches. We found nothing, which didn’t surprise us; it was unlikely they’d go to all the trouble of secreting away their materials at the cabin, only to leave some in their house.

Throughout the searches, we’d all been pretty quiet, still shocked over what we’d found at the cabin. As Lucas drove us to the airport, though, my numbed brain finally began to churn through the facts…and found a gaping crater in the logic.

“Doesn’t it punch a big hole in our theory about his motivation for killing Cabal kids?”

Lucas slanted a look my way, telling me to continue.

“Okay, if Edward’s experiments with humans failed, then I can see him testing them out with supernaturals. But what’s he taking? Not blood, that’s for sure. Or, at least, not enough to bathe in. If he’s taking something else, like the stuff that Cassandra found—” I glanced into the backseat at her. “Was it…material that wouldn’t be missed?”

She shook her head. “Some of it is external, some internal, but everything would have been missed, if not in a visual examination, then at least in the most cursory autopsy. Perhaps he was taking something different, something small enough to be overlooked.”

“I doubt that,” Lucas said. “Joey Nast was still alive when we found him. I can’t imagine the killer had time to excise anything from his body.”

“But everything else fits,” I said. “We’re looking for a vampire killer, possibly from the Cincinnati area. Edward is a vampire from Cincinnati, with killing experience that goes well beyond feeding. According to his neighbors, he hasn’t been home in over a week. His longtime lover has left him, which might have sent him over the edge, desperate to find the key to immortality so he can win her back. Even his physical description matches what little Esus saw of him. It all fits.”

“All except that one piece,” Lucas said. “Edward appears to be our man, so I’d suggest that we consider another theory regarding his motivation.”

“Like what?” Aaron said.

“I have no idea,” Lucas said. “But I’m open to suggestions.”

We all looked at one another…and said nothing.

A Most Unwelcome Intrusion

WE BOARDED THE JET. OUR FIRST STOP WOULD BE Atlanta. Although tomorrow was Sunday, Aaron had to work. Well, he didn’t have to, but he’d promised a friend he’d take his shift and, since it didn’t look like we’d be hot on Edward’s trail just yet, he didn’t want to break that promise. When we had a line on Edward, Aaron wanted to come back and help out. Being a vampire meant he had a lot of unused sick days, so he didn’t expect to have any trouble getting time off his bricklaying job.