Happy December 8th! The Kindle contest is still underway. Here's how it works: you nominate a friend/family member/coworker/etc. who you think needs a Kindle (tell us why they need/deserve one!) I'll be collecting entries until December 21st and then a winner will be chosen and the person nominated and the one who nominated them will both receive a Kindle! You only have to nominate a person once but you can nominate different people on different days if you want to. All you have to do to enter is comment on one of the Advent Calendar posts between now and then. But there are also daily giveaways of cool stuff too! Daily winners will be selected from that day's comments.

Yesterday's winner of a signed copy of Crusade is Mary Huff. Congratulations! To enter today's giveaway, just comment below. Today's goodie is the first chapter of Kiss of Night. Today's winner will receive a signed copy of Kiss of Night. Here's your goodie:

Chapter One

And almost all things are by the law purged with blood;

and without shedding of blood is no remission.

—Hebrews 9:22

The blood. It's all about the blood. Susan Lambert sank to her knees with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her city map of Prague slipped from her fingers unnoticed. She clutched her grandmother's antique silver cross and her hand tingled where skin touched metal. The floor around her was a crimson pool of light that was streaming from one of the stained-glass panels high overhead.

The panel showed the crucifixion and the light seemed to come from it instead of through it. That light painted the floor and pillars with brilliant colors. Her eyes fell back down to the bloodred light shining on the stone floor around her. The blood of Christ, she thought in awe.

She had been a long time coming to this city. She wished she could have come before it was too late, but at least she had made it. She tried to pray but was too overwhelmed by the beauty that surrounded her and the loss that tore at her heart.

She had come to the cathedral desperately needing to connect with God, to find the strength to survive the next few days. She had hoped to sense a bit of her grandmother's presence there as well. Her grandmother had spoken of the beauty of the cathedral she had often visited as a child and Susan had hoped to feel a connection with her one last time before the funeral. Then it would be too late. The cold, harsh reality would be undeniable and she'd be left with only her memories and her grief.

It seemed like all those she loved were taken from her so quickly. God and death were the only two constants in life, both unwavering. In the cathedral, though, she could focus on God and for a few precious moments forget about death.

She closed her eyes and thought about the blood of Christ, her grandmother's laugh, and a thousand other things. There was power and peace in St. Vitus Cathedral and she let them wash over her.

When at last she stood the colored light had retreated and the cathedral was being plunged bit by bit into darkness. It's as though all the light in the world is being extinguished, she thought. For some reason it unnerved her, watching as the light faded from all the windows and the shadows gathered, thick and deep and menacing in the corners. With the loss of the light all warmth seemed to flee as well and she could feel a deep cold settling into her bones. Like the grave, she thought with a shiver. She was exhausted and her grief was playing on the darker parts of her imagination. It would do her no good to dwell on the darkness.

She wiped her tears and turned to go. Her steps echoed loud on the stone floors and the sound pierced the fog of her pain. The cathedral looked empty, but it didn't feel that way. She half expected to hear some tired voice call out to her that it was time to leave, they were locking up for the night. Did they lock the cathedral or was it always open for those who needed a place to think and pray? She would have to ask. After the funeral she was sure she'd need a quiet retreat to pray. She took another half-dozen steps before the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Something was watching her. She could feel it just as she had felt the overwhelming sense of peace before. Susan turned her head slowly, trying to pierce the gathering shadows, but could see nothing.

"Hello?" she called tentatively, suddenly afraid that someone might answer.

There was only silence. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her frayed nerves. She let it out slowly as she forced her tense muscles to relax. Nothing was going to hurt her. There was no one there but her.

You're not alone. The still, quiet voice deep inside had never lied and it had saved her life twice before. The familiar icy hand of fear coiled itself around her and she spun back to the front of the cathedral, terrified that something might be behind her.

There was no one there. Her eyes caught a splash of color, her forgotten city map on the ground. She quickly retrieved it. When she straightened up and turned back to the entrance she jerked to a halt with a startled gasp.

A man was standing there, in the exact spot she had been a moment before. He was tall. His hair was fair but in the light she couldn't determine the exact color. He wore a long black trench coat over black pants and shirt. If it weren't for his eyes she might have thought of him as just another of the shadows rapidly filling the room. His eyes were a brilliant blue that seemed to glow just as the stained-glass windows had. They looked at her; seemed to pierce her very soul.

He was standing between her and the exit. Her mind reeled, wondering why he was staring at her that way, and why the rest of his expression was impossible to read.

She blinked and he was gone. She turned in a quick circle but saw only shadows. Her left hand gripped her cross necklace, squeezing hard.

Susan realized she was taking shallow, rapid breaths and her heart began to pound even harder until she began to be light-headed.

You're bleeding. This time she couldn't tell if the voice was inside her head or outside. She glanced down and saw she had squeezed the cross so tightly that it had cut her skin. Drops of blood coated her grandmother's necklace and slowly dripped onto the floor. Where before there had been only colored light now there was actual blood.

She began to walk toward the exit, every step moving faster until she was running. She didn't care how foolish it might be, she just knew there was someone inside the cathedral with her and he terrified her more than she had ever dreamed possible.

Her boots made a hollow clopping sound against the stone. A dozen steps from the exit she could swear she felt a hand brush her shoulder. She screamed and, twisting, she shot through the open doorway and outside.

She came up short in the cold night air with a gasp. A couple walking nearby hurried past her, clearly thinking her crazy.

She paused a moment, two. No dark figure lunged out of the cathedral to grab her and even as she tried to fix his face in her memory she could feel it slipping, as though it had been only a dream the dawn chased away.

It's just my imagination. Too much has happened in the last few days, she told herself. She walked a few steps away from the door, thought about hailing a taxi, and then decided against it. Her hotel wasn't that far away and the walk might help clear her head.

And if there had been a man and he meant her harm, hopefully she could lose him on the streets. If she hailed a taxi then he might somehow overhear the address and she didn't want to wait here alone trying to flag one down. She was being paranoid and she knew it, but all the brochures she had read before departing had been emphatic that young women traveling alone should use extreme caution. That, coupled with all her grandmother's stories about gypsies who stole children in the middle of the night, had served to make her a basket case.

She had taken a half-dozen self-defense courses in college. That was little comfort at the moment, though, since she'd never had to apply any of what she'd learned to the real world. Mentally she rehearsed a few moves just in case.

As she began to walk, though, her fear began to ebb. Maybe the man had been a dream, or a hallucination brought on by extreme jet lag and grief. She forced her thoughts outward and she really began looking around her as she walked.

The city glistened like a jewel beneath the full moon. Its beauty was haunting, and Susan struggled to make herself focus on it. It was real. All of it. She was finally in Prague. Even as she marveled at some of the ancient buildings, though, she turned to glance over her shoulder every few steps, unable to shake the feeling that someone or something had followed her from the cathedral.

Every time she looked, though, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The shadows stayed where they should and the only people she saw were those going about their own business. If anything, she must look odd to them. After a few minutes she admitted to herself that she kept expecting to turn around and see him again, a hairsbreadth away, and have no idea how he had moved so close without her noticing.

She shivered. She tried to tell herself it was because she was in a strange city, one that had been given life in her imagination by what her grandmother had told her about growing up in Prague.

Susan had listened for hours as her grandmother spun tales of romance and mystery, mysticism and terror. They had gotten into her head that was all that had happened back at the church. Nothing strange had occurred. The truth was she had probably frightened off the poor man with her screaming. If there even was a man. She touched her grandmother's cross and grimaced as she felt the dried blood on it.

As hard as she tried, though, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her, and so it was with relief that she arrived back at the Grand Hotel Praha and ducked inside. She was meeting family in a half hour for dinner at U Zlaté konviceon, a Czech restaurant in the hotel's cellars. She hurried upstairs to the room she was going to be sharing with her cousin Wendy, when she arrived the next morning.

The room was nothing like she had expected, but given her grandmother's stories she shouldn't have been surprised. All the furniture was antique and beautiful. The ceiling was ornately carved. The bathroom was all marble and glistened beneath the lights. Out the window she had a view of Old Town Square including the Týn Church and the Astronomical Clock, Prague's most famous sight.

As though compelled, she moved again to the window and looked out on the city, now awash with lights beneath the night sky. Her grandmother had been right. It was a magical place. She could feel it deep inside, like a singing in her blood or a quickening in her soul.

"Anything can happen here," she whispered to herself.

She turned and moved to her suitcase, which she hadn't taken the time to unpack when she had gotten in. She had been too eager to see the cathedral her grandmother had always told her about. It had been her moment of solitude, peace, before everything that was coming.

She remembered what it had been like at her parents' funeral when she was twelve. There had been so many people and so much chaos and she had longed to be allowed to go to her room and find some quiet to try and pray and understand what had happened. Her family members had had other plans, though, and they made it their mission to keep her from being alone. Now she couldn't help but wonder what the next few days were going to bring, since her grandmother had raised her from that point forward.

She squared her shoulders. She was twenty-three now and she would just have to make her own needs clear. And if people wouldn't listen, well, she was going home three days after everyone else.

It was plenty of time to see the things she wanted to and to pay homage to her grandmother and bid her farewell in her own way. She wanted to return to the cathedral before she left.

And as she thought of the cathedral, she couldn't help but think about him. Who had he been that he had appeared and disappeared so quickly, without saying a word? She shivered slightly. There was something dangerous about him; how she knew that was a mystery to her, but she just knew.

Susan changed quickly into a simple blue sweater and black slacks, wishing she had brought a different dress beyond the one she would wear at the funeral. Then she made her way downstairs to the restaurant.

The restaurant was underground with vaulted ceilings and arches. Its rough rock walls were decorated with weapons, coats of arms, and murals of beheaded Czech lords. Wooden tables with simple wooden chairs reminded her that she was in a fourteenth-century alehouse.

One long table had been reserved for her family and she discovered she was not the first to arrive as Aunt Jane and Uncle Bob waved her over. They exchanged brief hugs and then settled back into their chairs to wait for the others.

"How are you holding up?" Jane asked.

"I'm okay," Susan said. "And you?"

"I'm going to miss Mom terribly, but at least she's in a better place."

"Although I'm sure she would have liked to see us all here," Bob said gruffly. "She loved this city."

Susan nodded. "I was always surprised she didn't ever try to move back, or at least take an extended trip."

"She was too concerned with her responsibilities at home," Jane said.

Responsibilities. As in me. Susan shook her head, unwilling to believe that she had kept her grandmother from returning to the home she loved, especially since she had left for college at eighteen and had lived on her own since.

Before she could say anything, the others began to arrive and soon she was hugging friends and family, some of whom she hadn't seen since that last funeral.

Her grandmother had managed her own funeral arrangements so that not only could she be buried in Prague but also all those close to her would have airfare paid for. Prague had been important to her. Family had been even more important.

When everyone was settled Susan had a chance to look at the menu. She was surprised at the number of choices, running the gamut from roast duck to schnitzel. She finally settled on the sirloin in cream sauce with cranberries and dumplings.

"How would you like your sirloin?" the waitress asked.

Bloody.

"Bloody," she heard herself saying then stopped, blinking. Why had she said that? She liked her steaks medium. She picked up her water and took a long drink. She was definitely suffering from jet lag and it must be affecting her more than she suspected.

When she put her water glass down she glanced across the room and gasped. The man from earlier was standing in the doorway, watching her. She blinked and he vanished. She sat for a moment, stunned. Had she imagined it? She was filled with an overwhelming need to know who he was or if he was even real and not some figment of her imagination.

She bolted up from the table and ran to where he had been standing, then looked up and down the hallway but saw no sign of him. Frustration filled her, but also a trickling of relief. Maybe she was seeing things. She shook her head hard and turned away.

When she rejoined her family they were regarding her with open curiosity.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I thought I saw…never mind."

Her uncle patted her on the shoulder and then conversation around the table resumed. The food was delicious and she found that she actually liked the steak rare. As the meal went on, though, she struggled to focus on the people and conversations around her. She yawned all the way through dessert and by then had completely convinced herself that her overtired brain was indeed playing tricks on her.

After they toasted Grandma Constance at the end, no one seemed inclined to leave, and everyone lingered around the table telling stories about Constance and sharing tears.

"I have to get some sleep," Susan said, finally standing up.

"I'll walk with you," her great-uncle Clarence said.

Susan tried to protest, but he held up a hand. Clarence was her grandmother's youngest brother and had just turned sixty three months before. His birthday was the last time the family had been together, to celebrate. Now they were gathered to mourn.

As soon as they left the restaurant he turned to her. "You mustn't let them bother you, my dear. She was a great spirit, and she will be missed, but especially by those of us who knew her well."

"Yes, she will."

"Most didn't understand her. She'd drive a hundred miles if she thought a stranger needed her prayers. She'd look at things completely different than other people and sometimes when the whole world, when every logical thought said to turn right she'd turn left."

"I remember. It always ended up being the best thing."

"I think you're a lot like her in that regard," he said, looking shrewdly at her. "I remember that day when, for no apparent reason, you refused to leave Constance's house. Your parents let you spend the night…"

He didn't have to continue. They both knew very well what had happened. Her parents had been killed in a car crash on the way home. She had spent untold sleepless nights wishing she could have gotten them to stay with her that night. But they had left and she was alive because they had let her stay.

Susan nodded, not sure what to say. They arrived at her room and she hugged him good night. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "She did come back here. I'm the only one who knows, but she did come back to Prague, twice."

Startled, she looked at him. "When? Why didn't she tell people?"

He smiled at her. "Those are stories for another time. For tonight, sleep well."

He turned and walked away leaving her with burning questions and a deep sense of relief that her grandmother had been able to see the city she loved before she died.

She entered her room, locking the door behind her. When she turned around, she started as her eyes fell on the bed. In the middle of her pillow was a single red rose.