It took a while for Hunter Morrison to get here. God, damn him! He was either going to be late or not show up at all. A wave of relief washed over her at the last idea. One more night of sleep would allow her to delay the inevitable. A few months had passed since she'd located him. Not another night could be wasted. Time was running out, both for her mother and herself. This was tonight's responsibility for Autumn. It needed to be finished quickly before she lost her nerve and the curse returned to haunt her.

She was considering picking up the phone and calling Hunter. Of course he wouldn't respond, and even if he did, it wouldn't change anything. In her note to him, she had provided detailed instructions. No amount of persuasion would convince him to comply with her request if he had already decided to disregard it. The sigh of relief in her voice suggested as much. The disillusioned bit revealed a different story.

As a matter of fact, she ought to break into his house. A quick strike should force him to fulfill her demands. This is something she might be able to accomplish. She needs to take the initiative. Spending three hours parked opposite a neighborhood known to attract drug addicts, sex offenders, and who knows what else was a bad idea. Every piece of riffraff that stumbled by stared at her awkwardly. Yet another reoccurring nightmare that was becoming unbearable. The pain in her head was so intense that it felt like her skull was being hammered in. Additionally, a great deal of worry. She has gotten very far thanks to her civilized ways.

Hunter Morrison was the one thing she hadn't managed to snag. God, damn him! After waiting for another ten minutes, she decided her nerve wasn't quite up to invading his home and instead reached for her phone. Before taking any action, she'd give him a ring to make sure he was home.

She was mid-thought when she saw a car swerve into a parking spot on the other side of the street, and her train of thought came to an abrupt halt. She stared at the man who threw open the driver's door and climbed out of the car, and her heart stopped for a moment before racing forward at an alarming rate. As far as she could tell, he wasn't her savior. He was a man with long blond hair and a shaved, shadowed jaw who looked cruel and ruthless and was clearly not someone who could save anyone. They weren't worth saving, she reminded herself, and he wasn't the type to care about that. He was the destructive type—cold, calculated, and not particularly concerned with anyone but himself. The few months had taught her nothing else.

When she went to turn the key, she felt her middle tightened. Her hand froze. She thought her eardrums were going to burst from the constant ticking of her watch. In an instant, she saw her mother's distressed face. She withdrew her hand, but her gaze never left the mysterious Hunter Morrison.

He ran his fingers through his hair for a moment before looking up at the Midnight Pub's neon sign. In his eyes, not even a hint of a feeling was simmering. They were completely black, as covert and mysterious as the night itself.

Once again, Autumn swept her eyes over him, this time bringing his image closer until she could make out every feature of the man who had enticed her away from her home in Manila.

He was dressed as usual tonight, in a black shirt with the sleeves slashed off to expose rippling veins of deeply tanned muscle and washed, worn jeans that clung to his rippling veins. Thugs and other criminals were his clientele, so it was only natural that he blend in with their ranks.

For the hundredth time, she reminded herself that salvation came in many forms. In this case, it was on the shoulders of one poor excuse for a man who had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into. He proved his strength and bravery by coming anyway. Given his profession, she should have known better. Tough, brave, and bursting with insatiable curiosity. That was the true hook that brought him to the pub. The setting was appropriate, especially in light of the events of the previous evening. Because of this, she had requested that he meet her there. So that there was no question in his mind that she was aware of every detail, including the most recent murder scene, the time of death, and the precise cause of these slayings. But Autumn knew the true reason for the killings better than anyone else. And that's why she absolutely required the assistance of Hunter Morrison. He also dealt with murderers as part of his work. Or, to be more precise, serial murder was his “specialty”. He pursued them with a thirst for blood borne of the hardships of the life he was forced to lead.

Hunter certainly gave off the impression of a man who had seen death too many times. Autumn stared at his face intently, taking in the defined contours of his jaw and mouth and the sinister depths of his eyes. A lot darker, in fact. To Autumn's mind, there was no doubt that he had not only witnessed sin, but also participated in its commission. He supposedly didn't care about the law, so the police didn't want him. Hunter didn't care what the rules were and broke them whenever it suited him, making up his own as he went.

So much the better, she told herself. They could have a more streamlined meeting if they did that. At least her preposition wouldn't risk offending his morality. He didn't appear to be the moral sort. His scrutiny of the beat-up red car she drove with an intensity that was unsettling was thorough. And in those split seconds, she was sure his unsettling gaze bore her through the darkened window. The man turned and walked up the sidewalk, stepping into the Midnight Pub's smoke as he opened the door.

Autumn was more than a little surprised and troubled to feel a tremor in her fingers as she reached for her glasses, given that she normally has no qualms about facing anything. The situation had gotten so bad that she had started the car, was holding the steering wheel tightly, and was strumming her fingers on the leather as she considered whether or not to leave. This would be the end of all hope for both her and her mother. Moreover, she would condemn her mother to an even greater amount of suffering.

When Autumn had that sobering realization, the unease in her stomach subsided and she turned off the car. She would be condemning her mother forever if she let this opportunity slip through her fingers, and nothing, not even Hunter Morrison and his disturbing presence, could make her do so. She might as well douse her mother in gasoline and light the match herself if she wants to send her to hell, because that's exactly what she'd be doing.

Autumn, I know what you are and what makes you tick...
As she unfolded herself from the car and grabbed her black leather bag from the seat, the words from her nightmare played over and over in her head. She grabbed her bag by the strap and slammed the door behind her as she walked across the street. Her stomach knotted up with fear, and she cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. The road was dotted with cars. There were clusters of people at the intersections and individuals walking up and down the sidewalk. This was a perfectly normal occurrence, and Autumn thanked God in her heart without speaking a word. Dealing with Hunter alone would be challenging. She didn't need the murderer hot on her trail. And yet, she was well aware of his routines and his ravenous appetite. No doubt he was out looking for his next kill.

With each step, she clutched the bag even tighter. If she could just reach Hunter and make her offer, maybe that would solve all her problems and put an end to the killing. And she did it all while keeping her true identity hidden from him. As opposed to what awaited her in the shadows, which would be far worse.

I know what you are... Autumn would have to face hell much sooner than she had planned, much sooner than even the dreaded curse promised, if Hunter found out who and what she really was.