She tossed the shirt where he pointed.

With the blade still pressed to Steve’s throat, Jake handed the cup to Bill and then pointed to the pentagram, directing Jennifer to the center. “Kneel in the center.”

She shifted and knelt where he told her to, her gaze flitting between the drop of blood slowly cascading down Steve’s throat and his intense stare.

Bill handed the cup to her. “Drink.”

Jennifer gawked at him, her mouth falling askew as her glance fell to the thick burgundy liquid sloshing in the challis. “You, uh, you want me to drink this?” Her voice carried the incredulous tone skittering through her and she turned her head in Steve’s direction. His wide eyes met hers. He glanced from the cup in her hand back to her face.

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Bill said. “Now drink.”

She stared blankly at him, her mind misfiring. Did he just say to drink Steve’s blood?

“Do you want to see him die right here, right now?” Bill asked, pointing at Steve.

Jennifer brought the cup to her lips. Her hands shook. Tipping the challis, she tasted his blood. It was warm and thick and she forced both the sip and the gag down her throat. She let out a small sob, pulling the cup away from her mouth.

“All of it,” Jake demanded. Bill pushed the cup back to her lips.

Jennifer looked at Steve as she drank, forcing herself to swallow the vile liquid. When she’d finished and dropped the cup, her hands flew to her mouth, covering it. Her entire body shook.

“Don’t throw up, or we’ll poke another hole in your boyfriend here,” Jake said.

Bill picked up the cup. He turned it upside down and let the droplets fall onto Jennifer and the center of the pentacle.

Each droplet that touched the floor sizzled, producing steam that smelled like burning flesh.

Bill stepped away quickly and the outline of the pentacle glowed from a dull light to that of burning embers of a fire, yet Jennifer shivered in the center, her breath coming in plumes of white fog. Cold wrapped around her, caressing her skin, chilling and then the familiar burning touch of the thing in her closet clasped her shoulders, pushing her forward. This time it didn’t stop there, its icy member burned its way inside her and yanked out just as quickly.

Its scream echoed through the small chamber drowning out hers and making everyone cover their ears. With her ears still ringing, the chill receded as quickly as it came and she sat back on her heels, her breath wheezing in her lungs. The pressure on her chest constricted and she forced an inhale, dragging a minimal amount of oxygen in, enough to squeak out a shaky sob.

“Breathe.”

His soft voice pulled her out of her panic and she met his frightened, wide-eyed gaze. Concern layered over the fear and her lungs let up, allowing air to draw in with the smallest of wheezes. Jesus.

“What the hell just happened?” Bill asked Jake.

Jennifer slowly stood in the center of the pentacle, her head hanging low, her hair over her eyes and realization suddenly giving her a new strength, a new hope. She gently moved the hair from her face so she could see Steve. “We hurt it,” she said to him.

He blinked, clearly not understanding how that was possible, but she knew. She caught the anguish in the beast’s cry. She caught the pain and reveled in it. Backing out of the pentacle, she stepped on Steve’s discarded shirt and squatted, picking it up and slipping it on. It fell to her thighs and, despite the spots of tacky drying blood, it made her feel better to be covered up.

Bill glared at her. “You’re just a common whore. We should have hunted you down two years ago. But no, Tom wouldn’t stand for that! What an idiot.”

Jennifer slowly turned to him. “What?”

“Tom wouldn’t let us take you. He brought in some freshman instead and offered her along with his life in return for yours.” Bill shook his head.

Jennifer’s chin quivered, her illusions of her dead fiancé shattered to bits at her feet. “Tom did this?” She waved her hand toward the altar behind her.

“Yes,” Jake answered. “Twice. The second year, he made the deal when you were chosen. He died a couple weeks later.” Jake exchanged a look with Bill. “He loved you,” he added, and looked back at Jennifer.

Jennifer’s face formed into a mask of anger. “Don’t tell me he loved me,” she shouted. “Anybody who does this doesn’t have the faintest idea what love is.” She started to shake again.

Bill looked up at the stained glass window. “Time to go,” he said, interrupting the conversation. He lumbered across the pentacle and reached for her.

No fucking way! She blocked him and sent a roundhouse kick into his ribs.

“Cut the shit!” Jake snapped.

Jennifer shot her gaze in the direction of the voice and deflated. The edge of the blade dug into Steve’s throat, tearing the skin, and another thin trickle of blood ran down his neck. Bill grabbed her by the hair and threw her against the altar, knocking the wind out of her.

He retrieved a length of rope and the box of condoms from behind the stone, slamming the box down next to her as he stood behind her. He grabbed her wrists and tied them behind her back, then pressed his body against her, pushing her further into the hard rock as he reached around and squeezed her breasts. “I could fuck you all night.” He licked her cheek. “Maybe I’ll have time for one more before I leave you to the beast.”

He stepped back, pulling her to him and yanking the shirt higher up her waist. He forced his fingers between her legs. “Oh yeah, I’ll definitely have another for the road.”

She screamed and struggled in his grip. Bill twirled her around and a patch of duct tape that Jake pasted over her lips shut off the noise careening out of her mouth.

Jerked toward the now open doors of the crypt, and the van just beyond, the world swam before Jennifer’s eyes, altering.

A young man, barely eighteen, walked into the clearing with a Polaroid camera. He was fairly good-looking, with blond hair and deep blue eyes. He snapped the picture nonchalantly and stepped back into the woods, waving the picture so it would dry. He looked at the print in his hand and froze. The claws ripped straight through his body, killing him instantly.

Jennifer screamed under the tape, her focus back inside the van. Her eyes darted frantically around until they landed on Steve. Her breath hitched in her chest as she struggled to breathe through her nose.

He leaned against her. “I’m here,” he whispered, calming her a little. The men had shed the robes and put their clothing back on while Jennifer was trapped in her vision and she was thankful.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bill snapped at her and she stared back, concentrating on pulling enough air through her nose so she didn’t pass out.

Steve glared at him as the van rocked over the uneven cemetery path to the lake. “Do you have any idea what the penalty is for killing a federal officer?” he asked, and looked around the van.

No one spoke. They just glanced at each other. Jennifer watched their reaction hoping Steve could find a chink in their armor.

“And New Hampshire does have the death penalty,” Steve remarked.

“Shut up!” Bill roared, and punched Steve in the mouth.

Steve fell back against the door, laughing and spitting blood from his mouth.

Bill rubbed his knuckles. “If they find any trace of either of you, it will be in pieces. And it won’t trace back to us.” He grinned. “It never does.”

“Then why was I planted in your fraternity?” Steve asked, situating himself back on his knees next to Jennifer.

Bill chewed on his lip and looked around the van at the others, his fraternity brothers, partners in crime, and sighed. “Why did they place you undercover?” he finally asked. “Seems to me they sent you on a fishing trip. You have no evidence that directly relates to us.”