In the early 1940s, Sophie the Vampire Slayer discovers that vampire fiends Spike and Drusilla plan to slaughter all the Slayers in training before they can gain full power in exchange for a necklace that endows its wearer with the ability to shapeshift. Spike and Drusilla, perhaps the most popular of the colorful cast of villains on television's Buffy the Vampire Slayer , star in a novel that predates the series by about 50 years. The happy-go-lucky vampires are seeking a powerful necklace that is in the possession of an ancient demon, Skrymir. In exchange for the necklace, Skrymir wants Spike and Drusilla to seek out and kill potential slayers: girls who might become vampire slayers if the current slayer, Sophie, is killed. The pair happily accept the task, and in scenes that manage to be both chilling and humorous, hunt down and kill these potential slayers, until their fight brings them face to face with the current slayer herself. Fans of the series will be thrilled to see Spike and Dru wreaking havoc in their pre- Buffy days; the fact that the novel stands on its own without most of the Buffy principals is a testament to the strength of these characters. Kristine Huntley Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved Christopher Golden is the award-winning Los Angeles Times bestselling author of such novels as Strangewood, Straight on 'Til Morning, and the Body of Evidence series of teen thrillers, which is currently being developed for television by Viacom. Golden has also written or co-written novels, non-fiction books, and comic books based on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its spin-off, Angel. There are more than three million copies of his books in print in the United States alone. He was born and raised in Massachusetts, where he still lives with his family. Please visit him at www.christophergolden.com. Chapter One The Atlantic Ocean March 19th Spike stood on the deck of the Aberdeen, cigarette clenched between his lips, and leaned perhaps too much against the rail. It was twilight, and the last of the sun's rays lit the tips of the waves on the western horizon. The ocean was rough and beautiful, ephemeral turbulence on the surface belying the eternal calm below. The boredom was killing him. The engines rumbled loudly below the thrumming deck, their smell inescapable for anyone who actually had to breathe. In the dining room each night Spike and Drusilla sat and ate the slop that was served to them. They did not have to eat for sustenance. On this trip, however, if they dined with others aboard the ship it was for the sake of appearances only and almost not worth the trouble. Monotony. The same faces passed by on the deck each night. Three British airmen returning home to do their duty for His Majesty. A young lady and her governess en route via England to an elite Paris boarding school. The filthy crewmen and anxious-looking stewards. The fat American woman whose pinched features threatened at any moment to explode in a torrent of abuse poured upon her bespectacled, quavering husband. He represented an American firm that hoped to introduce new techniques in steel welding and shipbuilding to the British for the war. Apparently no one had explained to him that the British were not bloody likely to be taking advice from the Yanks, if anyone. Nearly every one of them had been the object of his homicidal fantasies during the voyage. Most had escaped unscathed. It would not do to have the truth about his and Drusilla's nature revealed to a passenger ship full of humans already on edge because of the outbreak of war. Particularly not in the middle of the Atlantic. Spike took a long drag on his cigarette, the ember at its tip glowing in the dark, and leaned out across the rail to stare down at the water churned up by the Aberdeen's passing. "Careful there, mate. This old girl's in good shape, but the rail might not hold." The voice was gruff, British, and by now familiar. It belonged to Jack Norton, one of the grimy men responsible for keeping the old vessel's engine running. He often walked the deck to stretch his legs after a shift below and was among the very few living souls on board that Spike had no immediate urge to kill. Smoke drifted in twin streams from Spike's nostrils, quickly sucked away into the cold spring night. "I can think of worse things, Jack. A little bit of a dip, some chaos aboardship, 'man overboard,' all that. It'd be a bloody joy about now. How do you do this all the time without going out of your mind with the boredom?" Norton stroked his gray mustache, unmindful of his dirty hands. "Who says I'm not out of me mind?" he said, expression quite serious. "Tell the truth, lad, it don't really bother me. I'm down below, me mind on me work. Don't have much time to think about it." The crewman paused, studying Spike closely. "You and the missus have a fight?" Spike frowned. "I don't think I like that question." "No offen