Soft Whisper of the Dead — Charles L. Grant

From the shadows of a windswept night comes a dark, elusive stranger...one who stalks the cobblestone streets of Oxrun Station, moving silently from victim to victim. One who sleeps by day and rises at night to satisfy a strange and evil thirst...the thirst for human blood. He scarcely felt the pain...He staggered and was struck again. He tried to bring the cross up, but a sharp kick to his knee brought him groaning to the ground. A foot stamped on his wrist and his fingers flew open. "Ah," said Saundra Chambers as she knelt on his other side, away from the rosary. "You've been doing your homework." He saw the eyes, an the fangs, and the deep comforting spirals, but he never felt the tearing as his throat was laid bare. And he never heard the sound of Saundra Chambers, drinking...