

Enlightened

Smashwords Edition

* * * *

Enlightened

A Tale of Love and Light

Copyright © 2012 by Melissa Lummis

ISBN-13: 9781301880454

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Other Works by Melissa Lummis

The Love and Light Series

Samskaras (Book 2)

Samadhi (Book 3) coming January 2014

The Little Flame Series Coming 2014

#1 Nine30

#2 Electric

#3 StarLand

#4 LimeLight

#5 Haunted

Anthologies

Eternal Summer

A Christmas Yet To Come
Preface

Mahatma Gandhi once said "there is orderliness in the universe, there is an unalterable law governing everything and every being that exists or lives . . . I do dimly perceive that whilst everything around me is ever changing, ever dying there is underlying all that change a living power that is changeless, that holds all together, that creates, dissolves and recreates. "

In our lives, things happen we can't explain and other things fall into place exactly when we need them. Have you experienced this? Have you ever been in trouble and the right person came along at the right moment? Have the answers fallen in your lap after a long moment of faltering? Have you been thinking something and a friend says it out loud? This serendipity only happens when you have your mind right, as a friend once jubilantly told me. Do you have your mind right, my friend? If not, I challenge you to start seeing your life as the adventure it is and you will find that "the universe conspires to help an adventurer" as Paulo Coelho wrote.

As you read this adventure of love and light, my friend, open your heart to the unknowable and your mind to the possibility that all is as it should be. Even and especially when the truth seems shrouded and the light is dim. If you don't like being in the dark or what you see when the lights are on, then "be the change you want to see in the world," as Gandhi said. I hope you recognize that you are a "mahatma"—a great soul, just like Gandhi, and that you, too, are a soldier of peace, if you choose to be.

Namaste.
Prologue

A warm night in May, 1959,

Clark College, Lewiston, Virginia

The basement room reeked of mildew and old books. A great, crumbling tome rested on a heavy wooden table that harkened back to the days of the Salem witch trials. Candles burned in a ring around a chalked-pentagram on the cement floor, while a pony-tailed blonde set the last one down carefully, completing the circle of protection.

"That's not right, Katie," a flat-topped young man teased as he pushed her playfully out of the way. She giggled and fell to her side, slapping at the hand nudging the candle a hair to the right.

"Smart-ass." She laughed, tapping his knee with her saddle-shoe. He turned and their eyes held for a moment.

"Come on, Joe, time's a-flying, and we've got a metaphysics final tomorrow. I'd like to pass." A fellow in gray trousers tapped his wrist watch.

"Don't flip your wig, Patrick, we're ready." Joe grinned over his shoulder. Katie shifted her blue blameless eyes to Patrick's face, the warm glow as steady and true on him as it had been for Joe. The corners of Patrick's mouth curled up.

"Then let's begin," he said in a mocking, ominous voice. Patrick offered both hands to Katie, who tilted her head and winked. She grabbed them, and he took his time pulling her to her feet. When Joe turned toward the pair, Patrick dropped her hands, and she dusted off her green pedal-pushers.

"I'll never get these clean again. Mom will kill me," she fussed.

The three college co-eds marched around the circle, mumbling a protection incantation under their breath. After three turns around, they stepped into the circle and knelt, facing each other. Joining hands, they struggled to maintain serious faces as repressed smiles twitched their lips. They repeated the incantation over and over:

"Asato ma sadgamaya.

Tamaso ma jyotirgamaya.

Mrtyorma amrtam gamaya"

Katie's soft, schoolgirl voice balanced out the men's coming-of-age gruffness. The candle flames flickered as the energy they conjured coalesced around them, blowing in a gust around the circle. The wind grew more robust until Katie's ponytail danced behind her like blonde streamers on the end of a girl's bicycle handle. They raised their voices over the roaring pitch, changing the incantation.

"Om Klim Kalikayei Namaha"

They chanted in perfect unison over the blustering energy. Their eyes flared in fascination as a pinprick of light materialized in the center of their circle, expanding into a sphere. The edge sizzled and danced in unison to the flickering candle flames. The center was a blur of color with indistinct shapes forming and dissolving.

Joe shouted, "Now." And they yelled over the commotion:

"Om bhurbhuva svah

Tatsaiturvarenyam

Bhargo devasya dhimahi

Dhiyo yo nah procodayat"

The sphere of light blasted open into a swirling orb of green and blue, ringing like a singing bowl. Katie laughed out loud in wonder and shock, and as if drawn by her girlish voice, the orb rushed to her. It tore her hands from Joe and Patrick's frantic grasps as she floated above their heads trapped inside the shimmering ball. The howling wind and the shrill ringing muffled her scream as the orb shrank, and Katie stretched out long and thin, like a girl-shaped rubber band.

Her panicked "help me" echoed down the disappearing corridor, one hand stretching out to them as the orb sucked her away. Her eyes bulged with horror or pain—or both. The orb winked out of existence with the sound of a single flame being pinched out with wet fingers. The room rang with sudden silence, the candle flames still.

"No!" Joe bellowed.

## Om mani padme hum

"The Jewel in the Lotus"

Buddha of great compassion, hold me fast in your compassion.  
From time without beginning, beings have wandered in samsara,  
Undergoing unendurable suffering.  
They have no other protector than you.  
Please bless them that they may achieve the omniscient state of buddhahood.

With the power of evil karma gathered from beginningless time,  
Sentient beings, through the force of anger,  
Are born as hell beings and experience the suffering of heat and cold.  
May they all be born in your presence, perfect deity.

~ From the Buddhist prayer to the Four-Armed Chenzerig, the Buddha of Compassion

Chapter 1

Buried in darkness, Loti tossed and turned in a whirlwind of dreams. Her husband limped through the sliding glass doors of the cancer treatment center as she rushed to take his arm, but he jerked from her grasp. Biting her lower lip to quell the quiver, her startling blue eyes pleaded with him, but his gaze fixed on the ground, his brow pinched.

"I can walk," he growled.

Not knowing the right thing to say, she nodded. A strong wind tossed her hair and threw dead leaves into her face that swirled around her until she couldn't see him anymore. Frightened, she swatted in vain at the rustling tornado, crying out, "David."

The wind died down and the leaves drifted in lazy circles to her feet, revealing her sitting room. Firelight danced over the glossy river rocks of the fireplace and an unknown dread unhinged her knees. Collapsing into her recliner, she rubbed her hands over the supple leather, over and over as the skin on her arms tightened into goose bumps. The flames twisted and stretched behind the fireplace glass, straining to touch her. Her stomach tightened into an all-too familiar knot as the air thickened around her, heat filling the dark corners of the room. Wheezing, she pressed her hands to her chest.

She licked her sticky lips and swallowed, wincing at the sore rawness. Her trembling hand lifted a water goblet, and the water simmered and bubbled into blood. Screaming, she threw the gruesome wine onto the hardwood floor. In slow motion, the glass shattered into a million tiny shards. Each one caught and reflected the moonlight. The stiff liquid oozed, extinguishing every pin prick of light until one by one they were gone.

"You're mine," a deep voice whispered.

Loti sat straight up in bed, clutching the white duvet to her chest. Her heart banged in her chest, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. As her dark bedroom came into focus the dream faded away like a puff of warm breath dissipating on a cold night, leaving behind an untethered fear. She dropped her head into her hands. These weird dreams about David had been going on for months, but this one was unusual—sinister somehow. The others left her sad, but this one.... She ran both hands through her long brown hair, trying to remember what scared her so much. A broken glass? But the more she tried to conjure the images, the further away they slipped. She shook her head. Let it go, she thought.

Sliding her hand over the cool flannel sheet on David's side, she collapsed back to the bed, a lump in her throat. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on her upper lip, and she buried her face in David's pillow, inhaling the fading scent of him. Her labored breath slowed; her pained expression softened, and a dreamless sleep claimed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning sun glared through the parted curtains making Loti grimace. Rolling onto her back, she draped a protective arm over her eyes.

"Up and at'em, Atom Ant," she groaned. She pushed herself upright, squinting at the invading sunshine. Fumbling for the green damask curtain, she tugged it shut. One eye opened at a time until she could bear the light, then she heaved herself out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. When she was out of the shower, Loti toweled off her wet hair in front of the full length bathroom mirror. Today would be her last day at work. Only a few more days until I'm settled at the ashram and then I can breathe. No one to counsel, no one to teach, no one to fake it for. No one who knows me or David. I can be someone with no history and no hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti unrolled the blue yoga mat and ran her hand over the surface. Kneeling, she picked at a piece of lint, rubbed at a smudge. She stood and braced her hands in the small of her back, arching into a shallow backbend. The studio felt hollow, empty now, and as strange as it sounded, she preferred it that way these days and the thought of her students showing up any minute unnerved her. It wasn't the teaching; teaching was easy. It was the guilt. She was abandoning them. Shaking her head, she straightened and her hands fidgeted with her golden-brown ponytail. She took a deep breath and let it out.

Scanning the room for something to do with herself, she caught sight of the storage room door. The props. She trotted to the door and scooted inside. Emerging, she dropped the bin of purple and blue blocks in the middle of the floor, and as she turned back to retrieve the next load, the silver bell on the front door tinkled announcing an arrival. She bit her lip as she glanced at the front door. A beautiful blonde waltzed in the door and Loti's eyes watered. Rachel. Thank god. Rachel's sometimes green, sometimes hazel eyes had a hopeful glow as she waved.

"Hey, girl," she said, offering Loti a tender smile.

Taking a shaky breath, Loti pressed a hand to her stomach, averting her eyes. "You made it," she called over her shoulder.

Rachel's smile melted into a small frown as she dropped her yoga mat and purse, rattling car keys as she tucked them away. Returning with a wicker basket of straps, Loti dumped it on the floor and spun back around. She forced a perfunctory smile at her best friend before darting back to the storage room. In the dimness, she took a moment to smooth stray strands of hair away from her face and to wipe at the tears. Rachel showing up was such a relief, but crying wasn't allowed. She dug deep into her once bottomless well of endurance, wondering if it wasn't finally going dry. She hauled out a little more patience, a little more staying power. With arms full of woven, cotton blankets, she ran into Rachel in the doorway.

"Are you okay?"

The care and concern in Rachel's voice almost undid all her careful work, and Loti found herself resenting her best friend. Rachel's brow pinched as she took half of the blankets and stepped out of the way. Loti nodded, almost scowled, and then squeezed past her, setting the blankets in a pile beside her as she knelt on the floor. Rachel touched a gentle hand to Loti's shoulder. Loti flinched.

"Hey." Rachel's voice was soothing, uncomplaining.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Loti said. Blinking, she kept her eyes on the task of re-folding a perfectly folded blanket. Rachel squatted down next to her.

"Loti—"

"I'm just thinking about everything I have to do before we leave for the ashram." Loti's words came fast and automatic, interrupting Rachel before she could say anything that would unravel her. She ran agitated hands over the blanket, still unable to meet Rachel's gaze.

"You need this. You need to take a break from work. You need to take some time for yourself, and the ashram immersion program is perfect." When Loti said nothing, Rachel added in a hushed voice, "It's been almost a year since he passed."

Going rigid, Loti snapped, "Is there an official timeline for grieving for your husband?"

"No, but you're not grieving." Rachel shifted to a seated position, one knee bent up in front of her with her booted foot on the floor. She rested an arm over her knee and learned back on her hand, eyeing Loti with unspoken admonition. Loti stared at the blankets for a second, then the scowl around her eyes diminished and she sighed.

"You're the second person to say that to me," she said in a low voice, still watching the blankets.

"Maybe we're on to something." Rachel covered Loti's hand with hers.

Loti dropped her chin, closing her eyes against the shame. When she opened them, she winced at the pain in Rachel's eyes. "Sorry," she muttered.

The bell tinkled as the front door opened. Loti hopped up, slapped her happy face on, and ran to greet the newcomer. People poured into the studio, filling every available bit of floor space and demanding all of Loti's attention. If she couldn't be alone, then too busy to feel was fine with her. All of her students from all of her classes showed up to her last class. Wow, was all she could think. With the dusky studio filled to capacity, Loti had to mediate a real estate squabble in the back row. A few of her die-hard posse glared at the fair-weather yogis—or not-so-fair-weather, considering they only showed up when it rained. They were her outdoor enthusiasts; the ones she didn't see all summer long because they were off on bike tours and kayaking trips. She didn't mind though. Loti understood the call of the wild and loved to pack up and head out to the mountains with David at a moment's notice. She froze in the middle of placing a pair of yoga blocks by a student's mat, rubbing the heel of her hand against her chest. That's enough memory lane for today.

Clenching her back teeth, she composed her face and walked to the front of the room, determined to teach a kick-ass vinyasa class. She flowed through the poses, stretching, reaching, and stabilizing. Her mind cleared as her voice rose and fell in soft, undulating tones, instructing the class to lift their pelvic floor, not to strain, to move easefully. Her face radiated peace. The only things that existed in the world were in that room—drops of sweat splatting on mats, the whooshing rush of ocean-like breath, her own voice vibrating in her head, her long, slow, deep breaths, and a calm and empty mind. She padded barefoot through the crowd, negotiating between feet and hands as she guided a knee into better alignment here, relaxed a pair of tense shoulders there. She had never seen this many people in the little studio.

With her arms folded over her chest, she paused at the back of the room and did what she did best—searched her flock for imbalances. There. Something was not quite right with Jeremy. It wasn't the physical placement; Jeremy looked great in down dog, but something wasn't, well, right. She softened her focus until it popped from the splatter in her mind like a 3D image. Instead of a picture, Loti got a sympathetic feeling wherever the problem was. In this case, his prana trickled from his heart chakra up between his shoulder blades. She didn't always experience it like that, though. Sometimes it was an amorphous feeling that she had to roll around like a ball of clay in her mind until it took the shape of a thought. She never actually saw anything, but she could describe it in visual and sensual terms she'd learned studying subtle energy theory.

She could detect subtle energy in people for as long as she could remember, but Loti was eleven years old when her little sister started throwing up for no apparent reason. When Calla ended up in the hospital from dehydration, the doctors ran tests looking for something wrong with her stomach. Loti knew the problem wasn't her seven-year-old sister's stomach, because what she felt was pressure in her head, like a bloated lake straining against a dam. Blinking, Loti wound her way to Jeremy, one of her fair-weather yogis.

"May I touch you, Jeremy?"

"Be gentle."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to touch your shoulder blades."

"I have some better places in mind," he teased.

He sounded like he might be grinning, and she shook her head. His sun-streaked hair hung loose between his tanned arms as his backside stuck up in the air. His biceps and triceps bulged with the effort to hold the inverted V position as she steeled herself and placed her hands on his sweaty back. Like having a TENS machine hooked up to her hands, electricity crawled across her fingers in multiple lines. She closed her eyes focusing on the sensation of ants marching from her chest to her finger tips, using slow breaths to empty her mind one exhale at a time. Jeremy shifted his weight.

"That tingles."

"Shhh, almost done." When the electric ants started to bite her hands, they scurried out her fingertips and into his back, leaving behind a ghostly tingle.

"Whoa," Jeremy barked.

Loti lifted her hands with a satisfied nod and strode toward the front of the group, encouraging the class to lower into child's pose.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After class, as everyone chit-chatted and packed up, Jeremy strolled up, tugging his gray hoodie over his head. A big hug from another student snapped her attention away from him, and Loti closed her eyes to steady herself, but couldn't help stealing another glance at Jeremy. When he winked with an amused smile, her stomach fluttered. He inched closer, claiming his turn.

"That was pretty cool." His more gray than blue eyes twinkled.

Disarmed by the genuine admiration in his voice, Loti smiled in surprise. _Knock it off; what do you think you're doing?_ She tamped the smile down a notch.

"You can do that anytime you want." Jeremy laughed as he patted her arm.

Loti's sigh wobbled as she shook her head. "You kill me, Jeremy. That's so inappropriate."

"Ah, come on. You know you love it," he said with a big, fat bird-eating grin.

Biting her lip to heel a disloyal grin, she leaned away from the handsome, young man, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"So," Jeremy's tone sobered. "I guess we won't see you for a while." He crossed his own arms over his chest, his grin faltering.

"Why, Jeremy, I didn't think you cared." She winked then slapped a hand to her eye.

Jeremy's grin bordered on a smirk bordered on a smirk, while her throat tightened. Life had become so somber that she couldn't remember the last time she'd been even remotely playful. She was so absorbed in navigating the dark and stormy waters since David's diagnosis that the thought of fun, much less flirting, was little more than a theory.

"You will come back, won't you?" Another student appeared beside Jeremy.

"I plan on it." Relief mixed with disappointment as Loti turned her attention to the younger woman who had practiced with Loti since the studio opened four years ago.

"Good," she said. "You're my favorite yoga teacher. No one measures up."

"That's sweet, but I don't do anything different." Loti waved off the uncomfortable compliment, fingering her lip with the other hand.

Jeremy chuckled. "Don't be so humble. Who else maxes out the studio?" He waved a hand at all the people lining up behind him.

Frowning, she took a moment to glance around at the line forming behind Jeremy. That was odd. Most folks packed up and left right away. Oh, a few would hang around chatting with her while she closed up the studio, but never like this.

"Loti, what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

She jerked her head around and forced a rigid smile at the older woman who had her fists jammed to her bony hips.

"I'm so sorry. What's wrong?" Loti's eyes flared.

"Don't give me that." She flapped a bird-like hand in Loti's face and whined, "What am I supposed to do now? I can't stand any of the other instructors."

Loti sighed and clasped her hands over her heart, her smile softening a bit. "I'm so sorry, Charlaigne. Really, I am, but I've got to take some time off."

Charlaigne's hands drooped to her side as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Well, I guess, but first Peter, now you."

Loti had no idea what to say, so she peered around her at the people lining up. Of course Charlaigne would complain; Charlaigne always complained about something, but that didn't change the fact that she spoke to Loti's self-doubt—that she was being selfish. Her eyes flitted around the room as she fought the urge to apologize.

"Charlaigne, knock it off. You know why." Rachel elbowed herself to the front of the line, poking Charlaigne in the ribs. She wrapped Loti in a bear hug. "Don't let her rent space in your head," Rachel whispered into her ear. "You do what you need to and when you're done here, meet me at the cafe. I'll snag a table in the alley." She gave Loti one more little squeeze before walking away.

Loti tightened the lid on her emotions as she hugged and shook hands for the next thirty minutes. When the last person walked out the door, she freed a long, noisy breath. She rolled up her mat, all the tension draining out of her shoulders. All the energy and work she put in with her students made her responsible for them and leaving wasn't easy. Adrift in her thoughts, she scooped up the pile of blankets.

"Let me help." Jeremy's voice startled her.

She'd lost track of him at some point and assumed he'd left, but there he was, leaning against the wall by the stereo behind her. He pushed himself away and took some of the blankets from her. Her mouth slack, she followed him to the storage room, staring at his back, warring with something that spiraled low in her belly. Then David's ghost flashed in her thoughts like a cartoon light bulb. She sucked in a breath. _David's dead_. The thought splashed like ice water, and she dropped her gaze to the blankets they were stacking on the rack in the closet. In the tight space, Loti's hip bumped his leg.

"Oh, 'scuse me," she mumbled, careful to keep her eyes averted.

"No problem."

His husky voice hitched her breath. They were so close she could smell the soap he'd washed with and the musky, workout sweat drying on his skin. She exhaled sharply, turning to escape as fast as she could. But she tripped into his arms. Wide-eyed and shaking, she froze. He didn't toss some flirty line at her. He stared down, his eyes asking questions she couldn't—or didn't want to—answer.

"I need to go. Rachel's waiting for—"

He pressed warm lips to her trembling ones. Her head swam with panic as he slid his arms around her, deepening the kiss. His hands wandered over her back, skating under her shirt hem and over her warm, bare skin. When his fingers grazed her flesh, it dawned on her that she was kissing him back. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, and their stomachs, and lower things, were melded together. Horrified, she shoved Jeremy's hips away, breaking the kiss and hissed through gritted teeth, "Stop."

Jeremy's eyes were glazed and half hidden by his shaggy hair. His breath was shallow as one arm fell away from her and the other gripped the storage rack behind her. She turned away from his broad chest into his hard, muscular arm.

"Don't be mad, okay?" he whispered.

Lust and revulsion tangled in her belly as she mumbled, "Jeremy...please." She caught her breath. "David. . ."

His arm dropped out of the way, and his fevered eyes cooled into a careful concern. "Hey, I get it. No explanation necessary." He wrapped a hand around hers, giving it a mollifying squeeze. When she didn't pull back right away, he leaned his forehead against hers. For a second they both closed their eyes, Loti yielding to his comforting gesture. When he crept closer, she splayed her free hand against his chest and shoved.

"That's enough, Don Juan."

He stumbled back and she swallowed down the confusing mix of emotions. Holding him at bay, she extracted her other hand from his as she scuttled out the door. His chin dropped, eyes still closed, as he drooped against the wall. Out in the open space of the studio, she took a deep breath and turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his hair hiding his eyes as he studied his flip flops. His long surfer shorts showed off muscular calves. _How old is he, anyway?_ 25 _?_ She was only 30 _,_ but she felt so much older.

"I know I'm a fool, Jeremy." Her voice shook despite her careful control.

He looked up through the curtain of bangs. His light-hearted smile absolved her. "I've had a thing for you for a while." He shrugged it off and reached down for his yoga mat.

She forced herself to look in his eyes as he straightened. "I'm not ready."

He cleared his throat. "So when will you be?" And he flung the mat over his shoulder.

Her stomach did a flip and she licked the corner of her mouth. "I don't know. It's still fresh." Her gaze wavered.

Jeremy flicked the hair out of his eyes. "I'm not going to push it. Don't worry." He smiled wider, showing teeth. "But you've got to know how damn hot you are. Maybe when you get back from this trip."

Loti relaxed the hands she'd balled up. A warm blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

Chapter 2

Loti replayed the interlude with Jeremy as she walked down Main Street staring at the sidewalk. Oblivious to the cars whizzing by, she zipped her fleece jacket up to her chin and stuffed her hands in the pockets. It was one of those pre-spring mountain nights: crisp, clear and smelling like damp earth and new growth. The air was like a cool compress on a fresh bruise, easing her overheated and throbbing thoughts. Glancing at her Uggs, she was grateful she wore them instead of the funky dance shoes she often bummed around in.

At the corner of Main and Davis, she bit her lip and her eyes clouded over, unseeing. She flashed back on Jeremy's eager hands, his clean and musky scent, and his warm lips. She smashed cold fingers to her mouth. _If I live a hundred lifetimes, I can never earn the right to feel anything like that, again—ever._ Her husband of five years had been cremated a few months ago, and the ashes were still in a wooden box on her altar at their house. She'd taken them home until she could spread him at their favorite vista in the Blue Ridge Mountains—MaKaffee's Knob. She planned to spend part of her sabbatical hiking there. She scratched at her cheek which was pink with cold and narrowed her eyes. _How long has it been since the memorial service?_ June 11th and today was—

"No," she gasped, covering her eyes with her hand. It had been over nine months since the quiet, uncomfortable gathering at Gram Dupree's house.

David's grandmother wore the simple black dress with the white lace collar. Her soft voice and gracious demeanor permitted everyone to murmur their condolences to Loti, then with great care she steered them away. Loti didn't ask Gram to do that. But she was grateful because she had no idea how to respond to: "We're praying for you" and "We're so sorry for your loss." The words made her angry for some ungodly reason, but the most heartless was, "We have to trust that God has a plan." The only condolences that made any sense were: "There are no words," or a simple, "We love you". There weren't words in any language to offer comfort when someone just picked out a pine box to cremate her husband in.

Loti still stood at the corner of Main and Davis when the light changed to red. She'd missed a whole cycle. "Damn it," she mumbled. _I'm such a space cadet._

Slapping the pedestrian walk button, she glared at the blinking red hand while tapping her fingers against her thigh as cars whisked thoughtlessly by. A chill flowed up her spine, and she shivered, snapping her out of her pity party. A rumbling motorcycle slowed at the light. _It's too damn cold to ride._ Her own little Honda Ascot sat in the shed next to David's BMW, unridden since she passed her motorcycle test the fall before David got sick. She hadn't the heart or inclination to ride. It was his dream to ride to the Sturgis motorcycle rally. The Harley Fat Boy and its rider turned down Davis Street, and she cringed that the rider wore no helmet, his long braid trailing behind.

When the light changed, she crossed the street, keeping her eyes on the biker as he coasted into the space under the Rosemary and Thyme Café's green and white awning. Bracing the bike with muscular, jean-clad legs, he worked his fingers out of his gloves. Rachel appeared between the alley gates, exclaiming in a startled way. Concerned, Loti picked up her pace. She couldn't make out his face, or Rachel's from this distance, but their body language didn't speak of threat or fear—or even apprehension—just surprise.

He heaved himself off the bike, taking his time to turn the wheel at an angle and settle it on its kickstand. Rachel took a tentative step toward him, saying something, and he rumbled a response in a deep voice that matched the Fat Boy. There was a pause as the two stood there looking at each other, and Loti stopped short with anticipation. Then they embraced and blood rushed in her ears. As Rachel clung to the dark giant, her shoulder-length, blonde shag fluttered in the night breeze.

Loti's heart sped up at the thought that her friend might be in danger. But as she picked up her pace, a strange energy bubbled up her spine to the base of her skull. She stumbled. Bending over and bracing her hands on her thighs, she inhaled a cleansing, cool gulp of air. Her eyes unfocused and—POP—there it was. _He's not human_. _He's vampire_. Maybe it was her building anxiety, but the bubbling in her spine morphed into sharp tingles that surged from her tailbone to the crown of her head.

Her body buzzed until the nerves shut down. Numbed and afraid, she strained to focus on the vampire holding Rachel's face in his hands. He leaned in, his cheek brushing hers, and Rachel nodded enthusiastically. He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her, again. The image blurred, and just like that, he sat on the bike, putting his gloves back on. Before Loti could figure out how he'd gotten there or how to move, the bike roared to life and sped down the street. The numbing electrical buzz faded, leaving behind painful prickles like when her leg fell asleep.

"Rachel!" she hollered.

Rachel lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the glaring streetlights, and a smile spread as she waved.

They settled at their regular table in the alleyway with the gas heater blowing warm air over them. The waiter took their drink order and they were alone, Rachel studying the menu while Loti rooted in her purse. She fished out a tube of hand cream and took her time rubbing it in, glad to have a moment to collect herself. The soothing smell of coconut and almond wafted in the air, easing some of the knots out of Loti's shoulders and neck. Rachel lifted her clouded, hazel eyes to Loti.

"That was my uncle. I haven't seen him in ten years," she confessed.

"Which uncle?" Loti cocked her head. She had known Rachel since college. She had been to many Brown family gatherings over the years, but had never met an uncle who happened to be a vampire. Maybe one of them had been turned? Rachel wasn't the type to keep secrets, not from Loti.

Rachel shook her head and waved a hand. "He's not actually my uncle. That's what I call him. He's an old friend of my family's, and I guess it was easier for my folks to call him Uncle Wolf."

Loti snorted. "Uncle Wolf?" She started to laugh, but Rachel's eyes narrowed. Loti lifted her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. It struck me as odd, that's all. I'm sorry."

Rachel's hurt expression sobered her fast. "No, I'm sorry. It's just . . . I haven't seen him in a long time, and I'm a little thrown, actually." She paused as the waiter approached with their wine.

"Are you ready to order?" He adopted a bored smile, and Loti suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'll have the grilled tuna with the fennel au gratin potatoes and broccoli rabe." Rachel folded her menu and handed it to the waiter.

"The chicken tortilla soup." Loti handed him her menu with a hard smile.

"With the house salad?"

The waiter's tone was trite, as if he anticipated her order. Loti grimaced as he crossed his forearms over the menus against his stomach. Had she gotten that predictable? After turning down his appetizer offer—to spice things up, as he put it—Loti sniffed the wine and wondered when it became fashionable, even expected, for waiters to be so petulant. She preferred the low key but attentive ministrations at the town diner. She and David used to go there every Sunday— _no, nope, not going there._

Clearing her throat, she swirled the red liquid around the glass. She sipped the shiraz, holding it in her mouth for a moment to taste the things David liked to talk about: raspberries and pepper, chocolate and espresso. She almost got it. Sighing, she set the glass on the table, fidgeting in her seat. Rachel sipped her zinfandel.

"How is it," Loti asked.

"Good." Rachel eyed Loti's glass.

"Go ahead." As Rachel tasted Loti's wine, Loti gathered up the courage to broach the delicate subject of Uncle Wolf's state of being.

"He's a vampire, Rachel," she blurted out. She crossed her legs, one booted foot twitching.

Rachel laughed, handing the glass back to Loti.

"So you knew that?" Loti said.

"He's been a vampire for a very long time." Rachel's eyes twinkled as she went back to working her zinfandel.

"How long?" Loti sipped, her ears turning a pretty shade of pink.

"Mmmm, about 400 years, maybe more." She rolled her eyes to the sky. "He was good friends with my great-great-great something grandfather," she waved a hand around, "during the Revolutionary war. However many 'greats' that is."

Rachel blew out a breath and chugged her wine, eyes darting around the alley. "I haven't seen him in ten years, and when he left, I was upset. My folks said we needed to take a break." She gave the empty glass a dazed look. "Because of me." When she looked back up at Loti, her eyes were thick with tears. Loti touched Rachel's arm in sympathy.

"It was the first few weeks of college and I was not paying attention to my classes. I was much more interested in working on a project with Wolf." She frowned, dabbing her eyes with the cocktail napkin. "He had a theory that he could amplify a witch's powers—don't ask me how. We experimented." Rachel tugged at the ends of her sleeves until the cuffs covered her hands.

She was one of the best witches Loti knew, with strong energy and incredibly good instincts, so it was no wonder her "uncle" wanted to work with her. Loti had seen her perform magic many times and was always impressed with her abilities. The most impressive time had been when she, her grandmother, Katie, and their coven mate and old friend, Patrick, scryed for any sign of magic in David's cancer. They swept the house for black magic and found nothing, except the angry energy of the cancer, which Loti had been living with since the day he fell off the ladder. Shaking herself back to the present, she realized Rachel was struggling to say the next thing. She leaned closer.

"Whatever it is, it's okay. It's me." She put the wine glass down as Rachel looked sideways at her.

"My parents weren't just worried about my grades." She lowered her eyes to her empty wine glass. "They were worried about what was going on between Wolf and me."

"Were you two—"

"No." Rachel glanced up, wrinkling her nose. "Of course not. Geesh. He's my—well, uncle. But we, uh, did exchange blood."

Loti's mouth fell open, but she closed it at Rachel's anguished eyes. As far as she knew, blood exchange was a fairly intimate act with a vampire. Allowing a vampire to feed on you was, well, orgasmic. Loti knew the clinical aspects of blood exchange from a course she'd taken in college, but she'd never donated herself. _God, no._ A suspicion bloomed, but she gathered her thoughts and looked for the tactful approach.

"So, there were unintended consequences to this experiment?" she asked, proud of herself for not blurting something that would embarrass them both.

Rachel nodded too quickly, twirling her wine glass in both hands. "And it did work, to some extent. But Wolf never saw the results he was looking for. And when my parents realized what we'd done, they asked Wolf to leave me alone for a while."

Rachel stared into her glass, turning it in uneasy circles. "Unfortunately, I hadn't thought through what the blood exchange might do to me." She looked up and cringed. "I was eighteen at the time, and I never thought he would disappear from my life."

"Well he should've known better—he's the 400-year-old vampire for god's sake. Vampires." Loti rolled her eyes. "They're so self-centered."

"Hey." Rachel sat up straighter, a little of her feistiness returning. "It wasn't like that. He explained it all to me, but I was too damned infatuated with him and the whole idea that we could be partners in some great magical experiment that I wasn't listening." Rachel leaned back in her seat, narrowing her eyes at Loti.

"And he should've realized—" Loti started, trying to pick careful words.

"Let me finish, please." Rachel held a don't-go-there palm up.

Loti sat back in her seat with a huff and grabbed her glass, splashing wine on the table and her white yoga pants.

"Damn it."

She'd been doing so well at this tact thing David had often begged her to practice. The waiter appeared with dinner, and after the plates and bowls were settled and their drinks replenished, Loti dabbed at the red stain with a wet napkin. She dipped it into a glass of ice water, then dabbed again, refusing to look at Rachel.

"Oh, Loti, here." Rachel sighed, touching the wine stain with her fingertips. The wine extricated itself from the fabric's weave, curling into tiny tendrils that flowed with Rachel's slender fingers as she lifted her hand. Casually, she guided the red swirls, smirking as the wine fall back into Loti's wine glass.

"Neat trick." Loti chuckled.

"No trick. Just magic." She tossed her hair in an arrogant flip and devolved into a good-humored laugh. Loti managed a half-smile at her friend's antics. The tension eased, and they ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, with just the sound of the other diner's murmuring conversations, the muted scrape of chairs, and the hum of the patio heaters.

"Rachel! Loti. What a pleasant surprise." They looked up at the white-haired gentleman smiling warmly at them.

"Patrick! Good to see you." Rachel stood to hug her surrogate grandfather. She patted his tweed-covered back, letting her hands slide to the leather elbow-patches. Dropping her salad fork, Loti stood waiting her turn.

"Loti, my heavens, it's been a while." Patrick Lynch crumpled her in a bear hug, the smell of pipe tobacco and licorice lingering on his breath.

"Have you been doing your exercises?" She admonished him with a doting smile as she drew her head back. Her arms rested on top of his in the familiar manner of long and well-loved friends. His eyes crinkled as he gazed down at her with an affectionate grin. She moved to sit, and was it her imagination or did he hold onto her a second longer than necessary?

"Every day." He winked, releasing his grip as if he was disinclined to do so. His hair went from gray to white over the years Loti had known him. Years ago, he stepped in to help when Katie Brown found herself a widow with three small boys to raise.

"Is Nanny here?" Rachel peered around him.

"No, dear. She's grading papers in her office at the university." They taught metaphysics together at Clarke University in Lewiston, over an hour away.

"What are you doing up this way?" Rachel sat back down.

"Meeting a friend for a late dinner." Patrick searched the alley over the heads of the other diners. "He's not here." He glanced at his wrist watch and smiled back down at the girls. "I saw you and wanted to say I loved the pictures you sent the foundation from the Christmas party fundraiser. We'll use them on the website."

"It was my pleasure, Patrick. I wish I could do more," Rachel said.

He nodded, rubbing his rheumy eyes. "I know, sweetie." Patting her shoulder, he cleared his throat and coughed a bit like smokers do. "I'm flying out tomorrow."

"That's right," Rachel exclaimed. "You're going to be in Ireland for a month, aren't you? Who'd you get to cover your classes? Not Holden McGee, I hope." Rachel wrinkled her nose.

"Holden is a fine young man, if a bit . . . pedantic." He waggled his eyebrows at Rachel. She laughed, clapping her hands together as she leaned her head back.

"A bit. Ha!" She let out a long, amused sigh.

He leaned on the back of Loti's chair, his hands gripping the rail behind her shoulders. "Do you think _you_ might be able to work the Easter fundraiser with Rachel this year?"

Loti blushed. She'd promised to help out with Patrick's Children's Cancer Research Foundation for the last two years, but. . . "I'll be at the ashram. I'm not sure if I can get away," she hedged.

Patrick tapped his forehead with an age-spotted hand; his face screwed up in consternation. "Oh, that's right, sweetie. I forgot for a minute." He wiped at his eyes, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "You take good care of yourself, sweetheart. I know it's been tough." He kissed her on the cheek, patting her shoulder some more, and glanced around, again.

"Well, I'll let you two finish your meal." He straightened, fingering a button on his tweed jacket, staring off into space. Then, remembering they were there, he looked back and smiled wide. "Good to see you girls." And he trotted off to find his dinner companion.

"Bye, Patrick," Rachel gave a little wave as he turned away.

"Bye." Loti twisted to the back of her chair, hands on the rail, watching him walk away. "He's so sweet."

"I wish he and Nan would get married already," Rachel muttered.

Loti turned back to Rachel, tilting her head. "Maybe they don't see the point. I mean, they're in their seventies."

"Or maybe they both feel guilty." Rachel raised her eyebrows as she poked her fork at her potatoes.

"You mean about your grandfather?" Loti asked.

Rachel nodded, staring after Patrick with a frown.

Loti glanced back, but Patrick was gone. "After all these years? Joe passed away before you were born."

Rachel sighed, giving up on the potatoes. She speared a piece of broccoli rabe, chewed it in deep thought. Loti spooned a bit of chicken and cilantro into her mouth, not tasting it.

"Yeah. I know." Rachel took another bite, her focus on her food.

Loti ate her soup like she was on autopilot, letting the silence stretch out between them. When the bowl was empty, she set it aside and pursed her lips.

"So, what were you saying about Wolf before Patrick came over?"

Rachel blinked. "Oh. Right." She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin, draped it over her lap, and sat back. She inhaled through her nose, then said, "It wasn't what you might think. Wolf, yes, can be myopic about things, but he was trying to figure something out, not taking advantage of me. He had some experience with amplifying magic before, and when he realized how strong my magic was, he wanted to explore the possibilities. I'm sorry we never made it work. Maybe we would have, eventually, but—" she turned her palms up and out, curling her lips under as she pressed them together. "We knew we couldn't go any further without crossing boundaries. That's when Nanny Brown found out what we'd been up to."

Loti tried to listen, to keep her mind empty, but it only made the thoughts more persistent. Her guess was Rachel and Wolf's blood exchange complicated their familial relationship and created a bond between them. The unintended consequences would have been obvious to a keen observer like Rachel's grandmother. Katie Brown paid attention to everything, especially to her granddaughter. "So Nan figured out what was going on and told your folks?" Loti concluded.

Rachel nodded. "To some extent, yes. She confronted me first, and we both went to Mom. Who, of course, jumped to the wrong conclusion, but we explained it. My mom was so much more understanding than my dad." Rachel shuddered.

"I bet he was livid," Loti whispered, her eyes widening at the mental image of Rachel's father, the epitome of a Southern gentleman, losing his shit.

"To say the least. But in the end, he sort of forgave us. I agreed it would be best if Wolf left for a while." She got a faraway look in her eye. "It took more than a year with a healer to get over it." Rachel picked up her wine glass and settled back in her chair, resting one arm over her stomach.

She dipped the glass at Loti. "If you ever have to decide to feed a vamp, make sure you know what in the hell you're getting yourself into." She drained the glass and slapped it down.

"So, why is he back?" Loti leaned her elbows on the table, holding her face in her hands.

"I'm not sure. He said was it was time, and—" Rachel hesitated.

"And?"

"And he needed to talk to me about something."

Loti raised an eyebrow, but Rachel wasn't looking at her anymore. She was digging in her purse for her wallet.

"Do you still need a ride home?" The tone of her voice said the subject was closed.

Loti debated whether to ask Rachel about the strange sensations and whether Wolf could have been doing something, but it seemed silly now. He didn't know she was there, and it could have been her sixth sense's way of telling her what he was.
Chapter 3

They were both silent on the car ride home; Rachel focused on the dark, country road, and Loti fiddled with the heater vents. The radio was tuned to 80's on 8 and Huey Lewis crooned "Heart and Soul". Loti's mind wandered from her last minute to-do list to the vampire again. Had he known she was there? And if so, why on earth would he have hypnotized her, or whatever vampires did? But they had to look in your eyes to do that, didn't they?

"Have you wrapped up everything at work?" Rachel broke through her reverie.

"Yeah, finally. What a process." She folded her arms over her stomach.

Searching for new therapists for her clients had taken months, but she couldn't plop her case load in just anyone's lap. Each person was unique, and she had to consider their personality, current state of mind, and physical health, as well as their spiritual bent. It was complicated. Finding a new yoga instructor had been easy in comparison. Untangling herself from her life in Jefferson was a slow, tedious chore, but it needed to be done if she had any hope of moving on.

Drowning herself in her yoga therapy clients and classes didn't help her get a handle on her life after David's death. And there were the bizarre ailments that sprung up: asthma and something akin to anxiety attacks. She lost weight—although that wasn't a mystery because food didn't taste good anymore. It had no taste. Her healer had the audacity to tell her she needed to grieve.

"I am grieving," she snapped at him.

"No, you're not," he said like the father she'd lost.

The gravel crunched under the tires as Rachel turned into Loti's driveway, the noise snapping her back to the present. As the car maneuvered down the winding road, Loti sank a little deeper into her seat watching the white Christmas lights come into view. David had hung them on the gable over the front door for their last Christmas together, six months before his death. It seemed so silly at the time because no one could see their house from the road.

"Who cares? We can see them, and I like Christmas lights." He waved a dismissive hand from his perch on the top step of his dad's wooden ladder—the one with DO NOT STAND HERE in capital red letters. It swayed slightly and Loti rushed to grab it.

"Good grief, David. Are you trying to kill yourself?" she yelled.

"Hey, this was my dad's. It's gotta be the best. It'll hold."

"It's probably thirty years old." Her lips pressed into a pale slash as her eyes flared.

David laughed, putting the final touches on the string of lights. He popped the two ends together and bent down, his foot pawing the air for the first wrung. There was a loud snap as the ladder broke, collapsing under him. Loti couldn't hold it together and David crashed down, knocking the wind out of her in the process. They were sprawled across the slate walkway. Frightened she couldn't catch her breath, she flailed at David, who sat up and gathered her into his arms.

"Relax, darlin'," he whispered, then kissed her.

She struggled for a second before dissolving into his arms. He explored her yielding lips, and she responded in kind. He kissed the corners of her mouth then her top lip and the bottom. He placed a kiss on her chin and a line of kisses along her jaw to her ear where he found the soft spot just behind her jaw bone, and she gasped. Air rushed back into her lungs, and she sputtered into a coughing fit. He nipped the spot, grinning as she took another deep breath and let it out.

"All better?" he mumbled.

"Mmmm hmmmm."

"Earth to Loti." Rachel snapped her fingers in Loti's face.

"Huh?" Bewildered, she looked around at the glowing, blue dashboard as the car idled in her driveway. She glanced up at the string of lights. He'd gone to see his healer, who was known as Model-T, when his elbow and foot didn't get better right away. Most families had a healer who they went to on a regular basis. Healers used a wide variety of traditional methods to create balance and promote health—herbs, essential oils, energetic practices. The healer expressed concern about the lack of healing and referred him to a technical doctor for tests. Technical doctors were a relatively new phenomenon who relied on technological advances rather than traditional metaphysics.

"I'll pick you up Saturday afternoon around 2:00 p.m.? Is that too early? Check-in's at 4:00 pm., so that should give us plenty of time," Rachel said.

Loti extricated herself from the pickup. "Sounds good. I'll be pretty busy during the day, but maybe we can get together tomorrow night and go over some things?"

"I'll call or text you." Rachel smiled. "And hey—"

Loti paused, the door half-way closed.

"Thanks for not judging me."

Loti shrugged. "That's what friends do—or don't do. And who am I to judge? I've got my own ghosts." She tossed her blue satchel over her shoulder, and Rachel waved as Loti slammed the truck door. The leaves weren't on the trees yet, so the bare trunks played peek-a-boo with the red taillights as the F150 pulled down the winding driveway. She glanced up at the horizon where an arching sliver of light peeked over the ridge line. It was larger than life already—it would be a full moon.

~~~~~~~~~~er Her

As the moon rose over the trees, Rachel wondered how far away Wolf was. She sat on the porch swing her father helped her install last summer, her apprehension growing. _So much water under the bridge,_ she mused. Although the effects of the blood bond had gone away, she never stopped caring about her uncle or worrying about him for that matter. It was an hour before Wolf's Fat Boy thundered through the tranquil night. She smirked; what a drama-king. He could run, or fly, faster than that stupid bike. Still not wearing a helmet, he parked by her blue truck. She steeled herself, ready to confront him. But as he turned toward her, his eyes glowing with the moonlight, her breath caught at just how beautiful he was. Reaching around to his back, he slid the hairband off and shook his jet black hair loose from the braid.

"Much better," he grumbled.

Rachel never forgot how deep his voice was or the way it vibrated in her chest _. He's vampire; never forget that._

"Rachel." He smiled and held out his hands.

She ran down the three steps and into his arms. He lifted her off the ground and spun her around like she was eighteen again. Giggling, she braced her hands on his shoulders, and like the years apart had never happened, she was light inside. He lowered her down and kissed the back of her hand. Tears glistened on her cheeks.

"Sweet, Rachel, don't cry," Wolf soothed, tucking his knuckles under her chin and tilting her face up so he could wipe the tears away with his thumbs.

"I'm just. . .happy. . .sad. . . oh, hell." She jerked away. "I missed you, okay?"

"I missed you too, sweet Rachel."

"Oh stop with the 'sweet Rachel'." She rubbed her cheek. "It's corny."

Wolf burst out laughing. "Good to see you haven't lost your spark." He grabbed the fleshy part of her arms and crushed her to his chest. "It's good to see you."

And as many times as she'd rehearsed their first meeting over the years—reprimanding him for taking advantage of her when she was so young, for staying away so long, extracting a promise from him that he would never do anything like it again—she couldn't follow the script. It all was unexpectedly moot because now that he returned she was acutely aware there was still a bond between them. Not of blood, but one they had forged with the little and big life moments they shared. Like when her high school boyfriend broke up with her before the prom, and Wolf had taken her to Paris to show her there was a much bigger world. He was her protector, her rock when the rest of the world fell apart. At least he had been until he left.

"Why did you stay away so long?" she murmured into his chest.

Wolf held her a moment before unwrapping his arms, the leather jacket creaking. "I'm sorry about that." He rubbed the side of his nose, his eyes contrite. "I lost track of time."

Rachel punched him in the sternum.

"Ow." He rubbed the spot, flinching as he stepped back, trying to look wounded. "You've gotten stronger." It was almost endearing.

"Have you been to see Nan? She's missed you too. You didn't have to stay away from her." Rachel stuck out her bottom lip, very aware she was acting childish but not able to stop.

"Yes, I did have to stay away from her. She was pretty pissed." His eyes twinkled, and he threw her over his shoulder and strode toward the house with Rachel kicking and protesting the entire time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Loti groaned in her sleep. She was hiking through the dark woods, on a trail too dark to see.

"David?" she called. He couldn't have gotten far. They'd miscalculated how long it would take to get to the campsite and the sun had set an hour ago. They were getting close, but he hiked on ahead, and now she couldn't see or hear him.

"David," she hissed, afraid to raise her voice in the eerie, still night. Resentful that his long legs ate up the trail miles so much faster than hers, she hustled to catch up, but the damn rocks and roots kept grabbing the toes of her boots. She tripped outright over a rock, almost falling, but she caught herself with a hiking pole. Footsteps crunched behind her, and she whirled around, exasperated and relieved.

"How did you get behind me?"

But nobody was there. She spun around, peering down the trail, but even with the big moon above, she couldn't make anything out. Alone at night in a hundred miles of wilderness, she was less and less certain where she was. Her neck tensed as she strained to hear the footsteps behind her. Despite the frigid air, her hair stuck to the back of her neck in warm clumps. Her calves ached. They'd been hiking all day toward the grove at Mast Hollow where the every eastern white pines towered over the perfect grassy tent site next to the burbling stream.

She stopped at the sound of running water. _Thank_ _god_ , she thought, and her shoulders eased. Queen's Creek wasn't far, and soon she'd be putting her feet up to a warm fire. _That's what David is doing right now, building a fire and cooking dinner._ She dug her pole tips into the hard-packed trail. No wind, not a sound. It was the wrong time of year for crickets, but there should've been something besides the utter stillness ringing in her ears. Stiff knees creaked as she hiked on, but instead of crossing Queen's Creek, the trail devolved into ruts and rocks. The skeletons of last year's undergrowth clutched at her gaiters and boot laces.

A twig snapped. Heart thumping, she didn't dare look back as she scuttled up the rocky incline. Her legs screamed to stop, but the foot crunches behind her drove her into a jumble of rocks. When she dared to look up, the tall trees were gone. In their place was a macabre sculpture garden of talus and twisted krummholz. How had she gotten above tree line? She turned in circles, but it was all wrong. There wasn't an "above tree line" in Virginia. In the Whites, yes. New Hampshire, yes. Definitely in Maine, but not here.

Holding her breath, she strained to hear the footsteps over her hammering heart. Jumping at the sound of boots scuffing on rocks, she bolted. The scree rolled under her panicked feet and her heavy pack wrenched her backwards. The hiking poles dangled and banged from the wrist straps as she snatched at a scrubby bush clinging to a rock. The roots ripped free. For an instant, she hung in space, and then sizzling adrenalin exploded under her ribs as she crossed the tipping point and plunged.

A hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and Loti screamed. Another hand clamped around her other wrist and lifted her up and over the loose rock. Loti's scream died away as a black face filled her vision. A mouth full of large, yellow teeth surrounded by a scraggy beard and mustache grinned down at her. A broad, flat nose hunkered over thick, rubbery lips.

"Who are you?" she managed.

She stumbled as the hands released her and the grin relaxed into a knowing smile. Motioning for her to follow, the tall stranger turned and picked up a walking stick. Never making a sound, he negotiated the rocks, climbing higher. Trembling all over, Loti followed in anxious silence to the top, where the black man threw both arms wide, raising a palm and his stick to the sky.

"Do you know where we are, girl?" His booming voice shattered the silent night.

Clutching herself, Loti peered around at the star-studded blackness blanketing the never-ending forest that hugged the bare mountain. Off in the distance a lake glittered in the moonlight. And the full moon wore a prism-like halo.

"On a mountain?" she whispered.

"Good" he yelled and she winced.

He plopped down in a cross-legged position, gazing up at the moon with its crown of refracted light. The cold air bit Loti's cheek, but all the black man wore was a loose pair of cargo shorts. His bare chest and arms, all lean muscle and gristle, were exposed. A head, too big for his spindle of a neck, sprouted gray tendrils. They splayed out in wavy strands, reminding Loti of a used Brillo pad. In an apparent effort to hold the mass of black and gray in place, he wrapped a brown leather thong several times around his forehead, tying it in a knot above his right ear. His bright eyes turned from the moon to Loti. In the iridescent moonlight the whites were tinted blue.

"Actually, you're at the center of the universe," he spoke, his tone grave.

Then he laughed, slapping his thigh, his voice like a chorus of laughing men. Loti stiffened, warning bells clanging in her ears. He cut himself off, forcing a serious frown as he said, "Man, fae, vampire, shape-shifter, dryad—" he waved his arms in a dramatic gesture, "—all kinds of creatures have been searching for this place, and we've stumbled upon it." His narrowed eyes and puckered brow held for a second, and then he dissolved into a laughing fit. His belly shook as tears seeped out of the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away with thick, calloused fingers, blowing out a breath between hissing giggles.

"Whooooo, boy," he gasped. "It really is funny when you think about it." He snorted. "It's been here waiting all this time and everyone's running around like crazy, tripping over themselves to find it." The amusement left his voice. "Even fighting over who was going to get here first." He snorted again. With eyes fixed on the moon he leaned forward, patting the ground.

Her face frozen in permanent surprise, Loti hesitantly kneeled on the bare dirt beside him.

He patted her knee and pointed a wide finger at the moon. "But we've found it, haven't we?" He smiled as if he and Loti were in on the secret. With an ache in the back of her throat, Loti nodded as she followed his finger to the unusual moon. When she looked back, her bizarre companion was upside down, standing on his head. She leaned away from him, tucking her chin, eyes wide, because he wasn't just doing a headstand. He was in the exact same cross-legged position he'd been in earlier, only turned on his head. With his hands relaxed on his knees, he seemed unaware of his predicament.

"Do you know why everyone's killing themselves to find this place, Loti?" His voice was quiet and subdued.

With a tingling in her chest, she shook her head. "No, sir." She swallowed.

The black man blinked in surprise and laughed out loud. "Sir? Oh, that's precious." He slapped his knee a few more times, and when he'd caught his breath, he let out a happy huff. "Ahhhh, you make an old man feel good, girl." He shook his head. "Sir, indeed."

He rested a gentle, reassuring hand on her knee—a neat trick for someone hanging upside down in mid-air—and in an instant, all of Loti's fears dissipated in the warmth of his touch. She felt like she should know him, but his name was out of reach. Had she and David met him on a trail somewhere? Hadn't he told them a story about a little bird offering unwanted advice to a bitter monkey in the rain? And about thinking three times before deciding? Hadn't he shown them how to make bread from sprouted grains and how to gather the dew from the leaves in the morning? She shook her head, and for a split second recognized she was dreaming, but then lost it, again.

Edging closer to him, she asked, "Why is everyone trying to find this place?"

"Because, child, they want to know the secret of the universe." He closed his eyes and his chest heaved. "And because they think if they know the secret of the universe, they will have their greedy, little heart's desire." He patted her knee. "Which is true, of a sort."

Loti's heart picked up its pace and she tingled all over—but it wasn't from fear. In an eager voice, she asked, "What is the secret of the universe?"

He chuckled. "Oh, girl, you already know it. We didn't have to come here to figure it out." His lips tightened. "Hell, everyone already knows it. They just don't believe it."

Shaking off his irritation, he turned an expectant smile on Loti. She shifted her hips to the side and crossed her ankles into an easy, seated position. Rubbing the toe of her boot, she rooted around in her cluttered mind, but couldn't unbury the secret to the universe. She'd pondered the meaning of life, her life, but never the secret of the universe. Taking her time, she untangled the pole straps from her wrists and arranged the hiking poles on the dirt in front of her. Giving up, she flicked her gaze up at him.

"Would you tell me, please?"

Without a second's pause, the black man answered, "Be thyself, know thyself, trust thyself."

His laughter rang out across the mountain side, somehow was the mountain side, and set the rocks to trembling. His voice was not one voice, but many voices in a chorus laughing, laughing, laughing. All around them rocks shook themselves loose and tumbled like an avalanche. The roar filled the spaces between, shook the stars, and vibrated inside Loti's head until she screamed. Then she was falling. The rocks pummeled and pounded her until she was sure every bone in her body was broken. The fantastic pain gathered in her chest. Her heart pumped liquid fire and ice. A vivid light coursed through her body, rupturing the vessel walls and piercing her sternum. Brilliant beams exploded in random directions.

"Wake up, Loti!"

Chapter 4

Loti bolted upright in bed, screaming into the blackness. Throwing off the covers, she staggered into the living room where she collapsed in front of the fireplace, wheezing. The full moon poured an eerie blue light over everything. She crawled on her hands and knees to the fireplace and leaned against the river rocks. Despite their radiating warmth, she shook as fear twisted her insides. Her home vibrated with a sinister energy, and she hugged bare arms around trembling knees. With a foul taste in her mouth, she jerked at the creak of a settling board. Her whole body tensed as she got the unshakeable feeling that someone was watching her.

Hmmmm, hmmmm, hmmmmmmm

She froze at the sound of a man humming an off-handed tune, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end.

Mmmmm mmmmm hmmmm hmmm

Dizzy and sick to her stomach, she thought, _Call Rachel_. Her frozen muscles thawed, and she dove for the phone on the writing desk tucked in the corner of the dining room. Fumbling with the receiver, her fingers shook as she dialed. While the other end rang, she counted her breaths— _inhale one, two, three, four—_

Hmmmm hmmmmm hmmmm

Holding her breath, she cowered in the corner between the desk and French glass doors, trying to make herself small and invisible. There was a click on the other end.

"Rache—"

"Hi, this is Rachel. You've missed me, but I'd hate to miss your call. Please leave me a message and a number, and I'll get back to you. I promise." Beep.

"Rachel, are you there? Pick up."

Silence.

"I have no idea what time it is, but I'm coming over. Something's going on. I'll explain when I get there."

She hung up and surveyed the open space of the great room. It was like a fishbowl. Four years ago, she and David fell in love with the house because it was the closest thing to living in the outdoors without setting their living room up in the yard. Now it felt like a stupid idea. There was nowhere to hide. With the lights out, she could see the naked dogwood tree through the front door.

The dense air caught in her throat and her blood roared in her ears as her eyes fixed on a dark blob on a branch. With quivering legs, she slid her back up the wall and took a tentative step forward, squinting. The shape was like a cardboard cutout or something not living. Tense with the effort to be quiet, she crept across the room, but the thing turned around and looked straight at her. _A raven?_ She took off like a shot, diving into the bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

Shaking uncontrollably, she grabbed a pair of gray sweat pants and an old pink pullover from the closet floor, tucking them under her arm. She tugged a boot on, hopping across the floor on one foot. Cracking the door open less than an inch, she peered through the little space. The raven was still perched in the dogwood. She bolted for the closet by the front door. Yanking her shearling jacket off the hanger, she felt for her purse and keys on the top shelf. She paused.

Hmmmm hmmmm hmmmm

Clothes and purse dangling from her arms, she burst out the front door, sprinting across the circular driveway to her Jeep. Leaping in, her hands shook so bad it took several attempts to fit the key into the ignition. The car roared to life, and she threw it into reverse. Flipping on the headlights, she wrenched the gearshift into drive and stole a glance at the dogwood— _yep, still there_ —then spun the wheel, spraying gravel. The raven flapped fitfully and took off as she careened down the driveway, leaving long divots in her wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti screeched to a halt in front of her friend's farmhouse in five minutes flat–a ten minute drive under normal circumstances. White-knuckling the steering wheel, she peered into the rearview mirror, half-expecting a pair of glowing eyes or the raven. When nothing manifested, she turned her wide eyes to the front porch, a loud rushing in her ears. It took a minute, but the blue porch light penetrated her voided mind, and she realized she was holding her breath. But when she tried to breathe, her constricted lungs fought back. Grimacing, she pried her stiff hands from the wheel and fumbled around in the glove box for her inhaler. The screen door flew open, and Rachel ran down the porch steps, flinging the Jeep's door wide as Loti took a hit off the inhaler.

"What the hell's going on, Loti? I got your message." She yanked at Loti, who sat motionless behind the wheel, inhaler held mid-air. They stared at each other, Loti's eyes glassy and wild, until she let her breath out in a harsh huff. She took her first deep breath since she woke from the nightmare.

"What are you still doing up?" she rasped, blinking rapidly.

Rachel gawked. "Are you serious? What. The. Hell?"

A toxic mix of adrenalin, cortisol, and albuterol raced through Loti's bloodstream. Nauseous, she tasted copper and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried licking her lips, but she couldn't make enough spit. Dropping the inhaler in her lap, she groped around for her stuff.

"You're in your nightgown. Its freezing," Rachel yelped as she leaned into the car to turn off the engine and retrieve the keys.

"Put this on." Rachel draped her coat over Loti's shoulders as she helped her walk.

"I don't know what happened." Loti laid a tremulous hand on her clammy forehead. A tingling frothed up her spine and she bent over, barfing on the brick walkway. The screen door slammed shut. She snapped her head up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. A dark figure stood on the porch, hands in his pockets. The porch light cast a blue halo around him, so that it was impossible to make out any features. Straightening, her heart pounded as she clutched the wad of clothes tighter.

"Nice outfit." He chuckled.

She rubbed at the strange vibration in her chest as she looked down at her nightgown and Uggs, her cheeks and ears burning, cold sweat dripping down her back.

"Wolf," Rachel warned.

"Hey, just saying. Here—" He braced a booted foot on the top step and held out his hand to Loti. She looked at it like it might bite her. "Give me your hand," he said like he was talking to a child.

Dizzy and covered with a sick slick of sweat, she managed a glare "I don't need your help, thank you very much." She clipped each word as she spoke, and he lifted both hands.

"Have it your way," he rumbled and backed up as she skirted the puddle of vomit and stomped into the house. She clenched her jaw so hard, her teeth hurt. Rolling her neck a few times to ease the tension, she leaned on the kitchen table. Glancing at Wolf, it dawned on her how rude and silly she was being. The man hadn't—check that—the vampire hadn't said or done anything that bad. So, what was her problem? The freak show she witnessed at her house? Her queasy stomach? That insane buzzing in her spine?

She wobbled into the living room and dropped her stuff on the big, blue chair by the fireplace. An inviting fire crackled behind the screen, so she held her hands to it, giving herself time to gather her wits. Shivering, she looked down and moaned. _Oh, good lord._ This was the nightgown David had always loved because it was just clingy and see-through enough to get him hard. Her face burning, she casually crossed her arms over her chest, but they would be getting a little show from the back side, too. She wasn't wearing any underwear. Who slept in their underwear? Rachel trotted over to her, picking up Loti's bag from the chair.

"Why don't you get into something warm, Loti? You'll feel better." Rachel pressed the bag into Loti's arms and steered her toward the bathroom, walking behind her to block the view. "Help yourself to anything you need." The bathroom door almost closed, then opened far enough for Rachel to tuck her head inside. Gesturing at her head, she whispered, "Brush your hair."

~~~~~~~~~~

Loti collapsed into the blue chair-and-a-half by the fireplace with a cup of Rachel's herbal tea, a special blend that calmed and cleared. Loti's head pounded and her mouth was dry as if she'd been on a drinking binge or taken one of David's Vicodin, but she'd done neither, so what the heck?

"Feeling any better?" Rachel asked, curling up on the brown couch on the other side of the glass coffee table. The vampire crossed an ankle over his knee and stretched his long arms along the back of the couch. His lips parted as he stared at Loti.

"Better, yes," she nodded, shifting in her seat. "But still strange. Maybe it's just late, but I'm having a hard time clearing my head."

She peeked at Wolf's high cheekbones and full lips as energy ants marched up her spine. Scratching her back against the chair like a bear with an itch, she studied his strong jaw and prominent nose in the flickering firelight. She was used to a certain amount of prickly sensations, but this was more, harsher and incessant. She gulped her tea. With a little curl to the corner of his mouth, he stared back. The soft lighting highlighted the small, crescent dimple in his cheek, but his eyes . . . they were so brown, almost black, that she couldn't tell where the irises ended and the pupils began. She couldn't look away from them; they went on forever and the ants trooped faster up her back.

Rachel cleared her throat. "I guess I should officially introduce you two."

Loti startled.

"Loti, this is Wolf," Rachel said, setting her mug on the table. "And Wolf, this is Loti, my best friend."

"Nice to meet you." Loti rubbed her eyes.

"Same here." He nodded, his smile captivating as he dropped his leg and leaned his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between them. His long hair slithered over his shoulders as he moved and energy slid up her back, hugging the nape of her neck. Her jaw unhinged as she got the firm impression that his smile, his movements, the vampire himself was causing the unnerving sensations.

"What are you doing?" Loti's cheeks flushed pink.

He blinked, and the ants stomped up her spine, down her arms and legs, both cool and warm at the same time.

"Hey!" She rubbed her arms. "Are you doing that?" Her voice was thick with uneasiness.

"Wolf?" Rachel sat up a little straighter as she raised her voice. "Tell us what you're doing."

He ignored her. Loti put down her mug and concentrated on Wolf and the buzzing in her spine and was struck by the change in his energy. His signature was still vampire, but now there was something else—witch? If she had to describe what she felt around witches, she'd say their energy was bigger, but since she couldn't actually see it—more voltage would be more accurate. However, she suspected that wasn't it. She'd come to believe over the years that witches, and healers too, were somehow more connected to the universal energy, so they felt like they had more power. Vampire energy was more defined, denser and closer to the body. Wolf had both, which didn't make sense. Her skin crawled with energy everywhere, and Loti clapped her hands in rapid succession.

"Okay, that's enough. Tell me what you're doing." She battled the urge to wriggle in the chair as his eyes concentrated on her hers, and she thought, _he's beautiful_.

Without taking his eyes off of her, he sat back, draping his arms over the back of the couch. "I wasn't doing anything," he said, smiling that disarming smile.

"Then what was all that?" Loti grimaced at the way her insides went all melty and liquid.

"What?" Both of his eyebrows rose.

"What I was feeling." She narrowed her eyes.

He mirrored her expression. "What are you feeling?"

"Energy crawling up my spine, and . . . " She groped for the words. "When you were . . . whatever you were doing, it got more intense and spread." She huffed at herself.

His smile faltered, but he caught it and put it back in place. God help her, she couldn't stop staring at his smooth, black hair or his rugged, handsome face— _oh dear lord, what a cliché_ —but that was how he looked. He rubbed his smooth chin, holding her gaze prisoner as he stretched out long legs, crossing heavy engineer boots.

"Wolf? Are you doing something?" Rachel scooted to the edge of her seat.

"What would I be doing, Rachel?" He glanced at her, breaking the spell.

Loti picked up her tea with downcast eyes. Her toes curled. Rubbing her knuckles over the corners of her mouth, she hoped she hadn't let her jaw go slack or drooled all over herself. _No, no drool._

"I know. But, um..." Rachel frowned at Loti, "maybe it's from what happened tonight?" She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

Loti peeked over her cup, looking back down when she realized Wolf was looking straight at her. And those eyes. . . they roiled. Biting her lip she lowered the handle-less cup and wrapped her hands around the blue glaze finish. Aware of the silence, she glanced up. Rachel and Wolf held hands, both sets of eyes glazed over.

"I think. . ." Rachel barely moved her lips. "I can sense it. Her energy seems more intense, and then there's an absence really."

"What's absent?" Loti straightened, her eyes flaring. "Has someone messed with me? What in the hell? Why would anyone—"

"Shh," Wolf soothed. "You're getting upset. It's changing your energy, making it harder to . . ." His voice trailed off.

Her nails bit into her sweaty palms, but she took a shaky breath, held it for a brief moment then let it out with a whoosh. Her lungs felt stiff and achy, but after several deep breaths, they eased and her heartbeat slowed.

"That's good," Rachel whispered.

Leaning back in the chair, Loti closed her eyes. Not looking at Wolf helped. She wondered what he could sense about her and tried not to blush, but in the end, it was pointless to worry about it. Vampires could smell emotions; they're mostly hormones and brain chemicals. And what they couldn't smell years of experience filled in the blanks.

"There has definitely been a wipe." Rachel re-focused her gaze and dropped Wolf's hand.

"What does that mean?" Loti's eyes flew open as she jumped out of her seat. "Has someone messed with my memories?"

"No, nothing like that. She means someone has come into contact with your subtle energy and covered their tracks, erased the evidence." Wolf's eyes followed her as she paced the floor with fluid, graceful strides.

"If they covered their tracks, how do you know they were there?" Her stomach flipped at the thought of someone—or something—getting that close without her knowledge. Then again, she _had_ sensed something tonight—something not nice. Something scary.

"How?" she demanded, stopping in front of Wolf, the coffee table between them.

"Well, I think the more important questions are who? And why?" He stood up and Loti tilted her head up to look into his face. He was at least a head taller than her.

"I agree, but, Wolf, I'm. . . ah. . ." She faltered, not sure how to explain her abilities.

"Loti's some kind of intuitive," Rachel jumped in. "We think she's in the same league as a healer, but not quite. She should have been able to sense this happening."

Wolf raised an eyebrow, and Loti almost burst out laughing as the gesture conjured images of old Star Trek episodes. Wolf smiled back like he was trying not laugh, too "Ah, I see. Then whoever did this is more powerful than we are." He turned toward the kitchen. "I'm going outside for a smoke."

With an incredulous stare, Loti mouthed, _He smokes?_

Rachel shrugged. "Hey, it can't kill him," she said as she walked into the kitchen. "I'm going to make more tea."

Loti followed, packing more unwanted emotions away for later. Why did it bother her? Yes, David had died of lung cancer, but Rachel was right. Vampires didn't have to worry about those things. _Who's Wolf to me anyway? Why should I worry about him? So what if he smokes?_

_You're the walking wounded, girlfriend, that's why. That skin's been burned_.

She grimaced at the two voices in her head—the didactic, wise old woman and the scared, defensive young one. The warrior and the wounded. The sage and the grasshopper.

She stuffed those thoughts away for later. "Hey, were you two scanning me back there? I thought you needed several witches to do that?"

"Wolf and I figured out a way to do it years ago. Something about his energy augmenting my abilities, remember? I told you we experimented with magic?"

Loti screwed up her mouth and inhaled noisily through her nose. "I didn't know vampires could practice magic."

"They can't." Rachel stared at the water flowing out of the faucet. When the stainless steel kettle was full, she set it on the stove. As the water heated, she filled the cloth tea bag with herbs. With closed eyes, she cupped the bag in both hands, holding it up to her mouth as she mumbled an incantation. When she blew on the tea bag, it soaked up Rachel's breath like a sponge.

"We don't know how it works, but he can increase my abilities. Maybe charge my batteries—or something like that. But I can let him experience what I experience." Rachel pressed one hand to her hip and leaned on the counter. Her long, trim limbs and shag haircut made Loti think of wood fairies and ethereal things. "Apparently, we can still do it."

"Do you still feel the bond?" Loti's chest tightened.

Rachel shook her head as she turned to root through a kitchen drawer. "I need you to tell me what happened tonight."

Subject dropped.

Loti thought about her question. "Well, I had a very strange dream." Could she remember it? "And when I woke up, the house felt oppressive. Like the air was thick with something." She ran her hand through her hair in a tired way. "There was something or somebody in the house." The screen door slammed. Loti flinched and glanced over at Wolf standing just inside the doorway.

"I thought vampires were supposed be quiet." Loti twisted her mouth.

Wolf grinned, and the tingle in her spine, which had settled to a bearable constant, flared. She just about peed her pants. Squeezing her lips and thighs together, she cursed under her breath.

He shrugged. "I guess I don't cotton to all that vampire mythology." He winked at her.

_Good lord_. Loti rolled her eyes as she turned her back on him. Rachel smiled, a twinkle in her eye.

"He grows on you."

"What, like mold?" Loti's tone was snide.

She crossed her arms over her chest as Rachel hooted, clutching her sides. When the tea kettle squealed, Loti stepped around Rachel, snatching it off the burner and snapping the knob to the off position at the same time. Wolf dug his hands into his jean pockets, cocking his head to one side, amused and completely at ease, while she was. . .what was she? Rattled. She was rattled. _Because he's a vampire_ , she told herself. Vampires always made her a little edgy.

"Tea, Wolf?" Rachel grinned as she wiped at the corners of her eyes.

"Sure. It smells good." He brushed against Loti as he made for the cupboard.

His touch jolted through her like she'd been shocked. Staring open-mouthed at him, she rubbed her arm. Wolf paused, cup and hand mid-air, and then as if nothing happened, he sauntered off into the living room. Rachel glanced up from the tray loaded with tea accoutrements.

"You okay?" She touched Loti's arm.

"I don't know." Loti's mouth opened and closed as she stared after Wolf's retreating backside.
Chapter 5

Rachel's fingernail tapped her front tooth between parted lips, a sure sign the gears were turning. Loti wrapped up the dream, surprised that she remembered quite a few of the details.

"He said, 'Know thyself, be thyself, and—" her eyes widened, "what was the last thing?" She looked away, chewing at a hangnail. The last bit had vanished from her mind. She rummaged through the images and words, but it was gone. She threw up her hands. "I can't believe it! It was so clear—"

"Trust thyself," Wolf said in a low voice.

Rachel and Loti both stared at him, mouths gaping.

"Yes," Loti exclaimed. "How did you know?"

Wolf's bright eyes roamed Loti. Her lips parted at the prickling in her chest. When their gaze met, he shrugged his shoulders. "I've heard something similar before." He paused, his eyes unfocusing for a second. "'Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.' It's Emerson."

Loti's jaw went slack as unbearable tingling flooded her belly and overwhelmed her head.

"You know, Ralph? The writer?" Wolf smirked, but his eyes glowed.

"Yes, I know who Ralph Waldo Emerson is," she snapped, rolling her hair around her fingers. _What an asshole._ Why did he drive her bat-shit crazy?

"Okay, so what happened after that?" Rachel steered them back on topic.

She recounted the rest of the dream, her eyes returning to his over and over. How she woke up screaming and the ensuing panic, the humming, and the raven in the dogwood.

"I sensed something smothering. The air was thick and too hot. I felt sluggish and shriveled up, like my asthma acted up, but I don't know." She bit the side of her index finger, shaking her head. "Now I know something or someone was there, but I can't imagine why."

Wolf nodded, his chin in his hand and his index finger rubbing his lips.

Rachel leaped to her feet. "I'll be right back." And she took off down the hallway.

Loti reached for her tea to hide behind while Wolf stared at her shamelessly. God, she hated that he could be so unselfconscious. In a fit of daring irritation, she stared back. Her heart beating faster as she focused on his skin in an effort to avoid his eyes. It wasn't as pale as the other vampires she'd met, but maybe he had a darker complexion when he was human.

"Are you native?" she blurted out. At Wolf's slow smile, her stomach fluttered. _Stop that._

"Yes. I am." One corner of his mouth rose. "Cherokee, as the pale face call us."

She suppressed a smile, biting her lip and fidgeting in her seat. "Eastern or Western?" She swallowed.

When he did that one eyebrow thing, her legs went limp. _Oh, dear lord._ "We were all Eastern at one time." He shifted forward in his seat. "But Eastern. You know the history?"

Trying not to move too much, she nodded. In the silence, their eyes locked and the bottom fell out of her stomach. For a second, she was hanging in space: weightless, scared, excited and turned on.

"When were you turned?" She licked her lips.

Wolf squinted, sitting back, an invisible curtain dropping over his eyes. He shifted deeper into the couch. A big chain-link fence with "No Trespassing" written in big block letters flashed in her mind.

"Before the revolution, but after the Europeans showed up." His eyes shifted away as he drained the mug.

Rachel half ran into the room rattling a small, burlap bag. "Runes."

She spread a blue silk scarf on the glass table. Flopping on the couch, she shook the bag a little harder than she needed to. Closing her eyes she prayed, "Mother of us all, guide my hands and my mind. Give me the insight to ask the right questions and to understand your answers." When she opened her eyes, they glinted with excitement. "Here goes." With a crooked smile, she dumped the runes on the silk. She turned the terracotta bits over so they were all blank and swirled them around.

"What is the message in Loti's dream?" Her eyes narrowed and her lips drew into a firm line.

The question surprised Loti. It wasn't the one she would've asked, but she trusted Rachel. Like she had done so many times before in this very room, Rachel turned runes over one by one, arranging them in a Celtic cross. It was how the women worked out the kinks in their lives. Together, they found ways to soothe away the hurt and to assuage their fears over tea or wine. Dragging the orange throw off the back of the chair, Loti cocooned herself. The smell of burning wood, the soft microsuede of the chair, and Rachel studying the runes was all familiar—lulling and comforting.

"Let me tell you what I'm thinking." Rachel tapped her front tooth. "I asked about the dream because it's the key—even linked to your visitation tonight. What Wolf and I could sense was not a mark or magic, per se, but cleanliness. That makes me think either something didn't want you to know it was there or something didn't care that you knew. If it's the first option, they didn't do a good job of covering their tracks. It's like a gun being wiped off after it's used to murder someone. It's too clean." She fiddled with one of the runes.

"If it's the second option, then whoever was there didn't care that you knew, but cleaned up after itself anyway. Which means it's someone very powerful or something," Rachel glanced at Loti, "bigger."

"Bigger?" Loti furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"I think it might be a message. Like from a spirit or some guiding power."

"You mean God, Rachel. Just spit it out." Loti rolled her eyes.

"Or the Goddess." Rachel fixed her eyes on the runes.

"Just tell us what they say." Loti hugged the blanket tighter, tangling the knitted yarn around her fingers.

Wolf bunched his forehead, glancing between the women and the runes until Rachel gave him a "leave it alone" kind of look. He left it alone.

"The woods represent the darkness you've been wandering in." Her words were hesitant and the look she gave Wolf was pensive. "Loti lost her husband to lung cancer."

Wolf tilted his head and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry to hear it." The hard lines of his face somehow softened. "There are no words, I know." His gaze did not pity or sympathize. The grim turn of his mouth and the clear but melancholy light in his eyes undid her.

Loti leaned back and twirled her hair around her fingers. She couldn't make herself look at him as she swallowed back the rising pressure in her chest. Her eyes burned. He'd said the right thing, and she didn't know how to make that jive with the judgments she'd made. Truth be told, it wasn't the first time she'd been wrong about someone.

Rachel continued talking, oblivious to the subtle exchange between them. "Losing David in the woods is your situation and the footsteps following you could represent your fear of the unknown. If the dream ended there, I would say that was it. But, the rocky mountain and the black man speak of the future and larger matters." Rachel pointed to one of the runes. "Feoh. It's reversed. This is the past and it speaks of overwhelming loss."

Loti's eyes stung. _No, no, no._ She sniffed, lifting her chin and sat up taller.

"The end of a relationship." Rachel's eyes apologized as she hurried on. Pointing, she said, "See here? This is ur. It implies challenges ahead and these," she gestured to the runes around it, "suggest a journey, inner and outer, something you need to do to move on."

Rachel's head snapped back, her eyes rolling and flicking to reveal the whites and red and blue capillaries. "But Hagall opposes you." Her voice was not her own. "Beware, for there are those who want to use you. There is no way around what you must pass through; what you would avoid at all costs. But if you can survive, there will be peace for you both." Loti jumped up to grab Rachel, but Wolf's hands caught her wrists. An intense bolt of energy zipped through her arms and straight to her chest. She yelped and yanked her hands back, but he held on tight.

"Don't touch her," he growled, his eyes menacing.

She nodded, fear constricting her throat. Their eyes held as he released her wrists. Rachel was still talking. What had they missed?

"Suffering is inevitable, but to everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven. Now that you have what you have been looking for, you must trust that there is nothing beyond the now." And Rachel slumped toward the coffee table. Wolf was a blur as he caught her before her head hit the glass and scooped her up into his arms.

Hugging her tight, he whispered, "Rachel."

"Rachel, talk to us," Loti urged as she brushed damp hair from her sweaty brow. If he was touching her, it must be okay, now. Rachel's eyelids fluttered, and she mumbled something, cleared her throat and tried again. "Water, please."

Loti ran to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, sloshing some on the floor in her haste. "Here," she said, a bit winded as she lifted the glass to Rachel's lips. She sipped and reached for the glass with an unsteady hand. Loti held it until she was sure Rachel could, then backed up as Wolf maneuvered her to the couch. Loti stuffed throw pillows behind Rachel as Wolf set her down. Sitting back on her heels, she held one elbow, curling and biting her lips. Wolf's fingers grazed Loti's shoulder as he squatted down next to her and this time, instead of a jarring shock, cool pulses eased the tension from her neck and shoulders. She gaped at him.

"She'll be okay," Wolf rubbed the back of his neck. "She'll be weak for a day or so. Channeling is draining."

Loti nodded, overcome by the more than pleasant sensation at his touch. She made herself focus on her best friend lying pale and limp on the couch

"I'm feeling better. " Rachel handed the glass to Wolf. "So you can stop looking at me like that. It's happened before, and it's nothing to be afraid of." She paused to catch her breath. "One of the perks of the job."

"And one of the perils," Wolf mumbled under his breath. Out loud he said, "You should get hardship pay."

Rachel glared at him until his frown turned into a lopsided grin, and Loti snorted. Either out of nervous tension or at the strange sight of a sheepish vampire, she howled with laughter. Like a warm, shaken soda, the laughter sprayed through her clamped lips. She jumped up and walked stiffly away, her fingers pinching her lips. She collapsed on the hearth, holding her sides and giggled through her teeth. Tears rolling down her face, she crossed an indiscernible emotional line and couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying.

In the middle of this, it occurred to her that she hadn't felt right since David had gone away. It was more than loss, more than sadness or anger. She couldn't feel him anymore. She'd imagined she'd always feel his presence, the energetic imprint of him on her soul for the rest of her life, but it wasn't like that. What it felt like was the cold, empty place on her thigh where his hand used to be. And god forgive her, but she felt broken, not in any one place, but overall, like her soul wouldn't work right.

The spasms subsided until she found herself lying still, unable to maneuver her limp body. When she tried to sit up, she flopped like a fish, her limbs heavy and spent. Hands took hers and hoisted her to her feet. Cool energy pulsed up her arms, and when she opened her swollen eyes, it was Wolf who held her hands. His eyes were soft, full of something weightless and insubstantial but very real. _Peace, maybe?_ For the first time in a long time, she felt calm as his cool fingers slid up her arms, grasped her shoulders, and steadied her. He stepped closer—

Then Rachel yanked her away and into her arms. As Wolf let go, misery flooded her limbs like battery acid in her veins. Loti cried and cried into Rachel's shoulder, the restless buzzing in her spine sharper than ever.

"I'm sorry, Rach, so sorry."

"Shh, don't apologize. I'm here. You're safe," Rachel cooed. Loti's sobs quieted and passed into the occasional hiccup and sniff. "I think you need to sleep." The brass clock on the mantle said it was 3:00 a.m.. "And so do I."

Wolf cleared his throat. "I'll make a few phone calls before sunrise." He turned to go, then paused. "When were you planning on going to the ashram?"

"Saturday," Rachel said, turning to Wolf. "Why?"

"I think the Travelers can help. Let me talk to Guided." Wolf dug a cell phone out of his pocket as he walked away. Over his shoulder he added, "And maybe Calisto, too."

"Help with what?" Loti bit her lip and wiped her red eyes with the back of her hands. "Who are Guided and Calisto?" The screen door banged closed and she jumped. _Damn it._ Wolf was already outside. The tears were long past due, but she didn't feel relieved like she thought she would. Just the opposite. There were things she couldn't face yet. Things she didn't know how to begin to feel. No one knew what those last few weeks had been like with David, no one but her and David. How had she kept it bottled up for so long? Rachel picked up cups and set them on the tea tray.

"Oh, geez, Rachel, I'm sorry. Here I am blubbering all over the place, and you're the one—"

"Shut up," Rachel said matter-of-factly, straightening up with the tray in both hands. "You have every right to cry." Rachel hurried off to the kitchen.

Loti hugged herself as she followed.

Wolf's muffled voice drifted through the closed kitchen door, and for some reason that she didn't want to admit, she wanted to go out there. Instead, she turned on the faucet, letting the water run over her fingers until it was hot. What happened when Wolf touched her? The urge to run to him was a physical thing, resonating in her legs. She plugged the sink and squirted dish soap to stop herself from going to him, her hands shaking the whole time. Rachel set the rattling tea tray on the round kitchen table.

"Guided is the leader of the Travelers, the healer tribe associated with the ashram. I've never met him, but Nan knows him." Loti took the empty teapot from her and dunked it in the sudsy water, scrubbing blindly.

"You probably met some of the healers when you were there for your training." She handed Loti two mugs.

"Calisto." Rachel stretched the name out cautiously. "He's the head of the vampire nest at the ashram."

The electric ants marched down Loti's back, the opposite of before, and the mugs sloshed in the hot water that turned her hands an angry red. Rachel said nonchalantly, "You've heard of them, haven't you?"

"Yes," Loti mumbled, rinsing the mugs and setting them in the drying rack. She kept her back to Rachel. "I've heard they are different from other vampires, but I never met any of them."

"Me either. But Nan has."

Loti's shoulders hunched over the sink.
Chapter 6

Rachel banked the coals in the fireplace and dug out guest towels and linens from the hall closet. Tucking pillows into cases and fluffing blankets, Loti helped Rachel make the guest bed. She loved the way the room smelled of lemon oil and lavender. The well-loved antique furniture and old family photos made her feel connected. Wolf stuck his head in the door.

"Can I talk to you two?" Business-like, he walked over to the old reading chair by the bureau, sitting down as he rubbed his thighs. "Calisto wants you to stay with him at the ashram." At Loti's alarmed look, he added, "It'll be safer. He said he'll take you to meet the Travelers, too." He paused, letting the information sink in. "He's going to speak with Sri Gurudev. Maybe we can figure out what this all means and what you need to do."

"That's not necessary," Loti stammered. "I made reservations with the ashram a month ago and have a suite lined up. Rachel's going to stay for a week."

"You should take Calisto's offer." His voice was stern, leaving no room for discussion.

Loti's nostrils flared. "What do you mean figure out what I need to do? Why do I have to do anything other than what I've already planned?" She snapped the top sheet over the bed. "I'm staying at the ashram for the next six months in their immersion program." She tucked the sheet in around the edges with jerky, deliberate movements.

"Do you want to figure out what's happening to you?" Rachel raised her eyebrows.

Loti glared at her. "You're not helping."

The two of them stared at her until she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Yes," she said, rolling her eyes. "But I do _not_ need to stay in a nest of vampires."

"They're not like others." Wolf relaxed into the chair, his voice reassuring.

"They're different, Loti. From what Wolf and Nan have told me, they're on a spiritual quest to understand their purpose in life. They've learned to control their dark side. Wolf's been living with them." She glanced at Wolf. "Well, sort of, for the past ten years. They're different."

"You haven't met them," Loti argued

Rachel reluctantly shook her head. "But they can help."

"They know things and people." Wolf crossed an arm over his stomach, resting an elbow on his wrist while he hooked his chin with a thumb. "They'll be able to help us understand certain things."

Loti looked from Rachel to Wolf, then back to Rachel, who gripped the quilt to her stomach. Her eyes and face shaped into a silent plea.

Loti narrowed her eyes at Wolf. "Us? I can take care of myself. Why do you care?"

"Loti," Rachel chided.

"Well, why does he?" Loti gestured at Wolf, but glared at Rachel.

Wolf put up a hand before Rachel could protest. "It's a fair question, Rachel. For now, can the answer simply be that I want to know why certain things are happening? And who might be after you?"

The tightness in her chest eased and a silly kind of hope vibrated there. "Like the dream?" Loti said, her tone imploring. "And the presence or whatever was in my house? And—" Loti looked meaningfully at Wolf.

He nodded. "And because Rachel's reading of the runes suggested a journey. And you need to know what you are."

"What I am?" Loti tensed, a vein pulsing in her neck. "I'm just human. Nothing special."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "You really believe that?"

She shuddered, turning away from him and staring at the bed. Did she? She didn't _want_ to know what she was, or what she was capable of, because what she already knew was too much to bear. And she didn't want to know what pain Rachel's spirit had meant and _if_ she survived— _No, not going there._ Rachel handed her the wedding ring quilt. She shook it out like she meant business and floated it over the bed.

"We'll talk tomorrow, Wolf." Rachel put a hand on his shoulder, and he covered it with his, giving her a curt nod.

"I'll let you ladies get some sleep." He stood and stretched to his full six feet, hands pressing into the ceiling.

~~~~~~~~~

Wolf stared at the full moon as if it might reveal the answers he sought. He dug a pack of Camel's from his shirt pocket and lit a cigarette with a wooden match. Shaking out the flame, he dropped the burnt stick and returned his apprehensive gaze to the sky. 500 years had not prepared him for what he felt at that moment—the overwhelming urgency and need to go back in the house right now, to her. Taking a drag, he glanced back at the little house; the bedroom lights were still on and his sharp hearing picked up the women's soft voices. Rachel reassured Loti that she was fine and that the nest at Marksville would help her figure this out. Wolf assured her they were different, she said. How? Loti asked. Wolf closed his eyes and inhaled—he could still smell her. Her unique female scent laced with fear and arousal, her blood salty and sweet, and the something else he couldn't identify. He had smelled something like this before, but only faintly from another woman; it hadn't been a one-hundredth of what he smelled now. This was so much stronger, yet delicate. It called to him, coaxing him to return, to stay, to stop, to not walk away this time.

He opened his eyes, looking down at his hands. His fingers thrummed with the sensation of soft skin over firm muscles. And what was that damn jolt every time he touched her? And the other thing? Squashing the barely smoked Camel under his boot, he pinched off the filter and sprinkled the uncharred tobacco in his palm. Holding some between thumb and forefinger, he faced the east, kissing his fingertips.

"Spirits of the east," he said, extending his pinched fingers, then sprinkling the tobacco. He turned to the right. "Spirits of the south." He repeated the gesture, addressing each cardinal point in the same way, then lifted another bit to the sky. "Father Sky." He knelt, touching the ground. "Mother Earth." His eyes closed, and he touched his chest. "Hear my plea. This creature needs your guidance." No thoughts in his head, he waited, his spine still crawling. Longing surged through his heart and mind, palpable, pulsing, and heavy.

Flinching, he opened predator eyes. He leapt into the air, racing through the woods like a wraith, his feet barely touching the ground. A blur in the dark, his humanity faded away. The vampire instinct led him to the acrid scent of burning wood and meat, and the sweet smell of human blood. He covered two miles in under 30 seconds. He zipped to a stop ten yards from the firelight, where he held unnaturally still, watching the small group and listening to their conversation.

"I'll bet you could rig up the batteries two at a time," one man said.

"Oh, yeah. It's not hard to do," the second man responded, taking a swig off a bottle and passing it.

Wolf sniffed. Honey whiskey.

"Especially now," the woman who took the bottle said. She drank and handed it over. "Well, we can always figure something out."

_Tea tree oil, sour milk? Yogurt_ , Wolf corrected himself. And mother's milk. His pupils dilated.

"How much does one cost?"

Lavender and eucalyptus and honey.

"About $550 for the actual generator, but there's the tower and the battery bank, and the batteries themselves."

The conversation continued, but Wolf wasn't listening anymore, his focus on the lactating woman. There were four people sitting around a low fire, and the small breathing sounds of young children came from two big tents twenty yards away. Quite young. Urine. Breast milk. He turned his attention back to the adults, specifically the dark-haired woman, the mother, who was standing up and stretching.

"I need to pee," she announced. "Where are the headlamps, Max?"

Max pressed something into her hand as she bent to kiss him lightly on the mouth. Adjusting the headlamp he'd given her, she headed for the trees, and Wolf stepped silently behind an oak as she picked her way along a fresh-cut path. She ducked into a copse of Russian olive trees and out of sight. Wolf balled his hands into fists and ground his back teeth together as the smell of her blood, laced with mother's hormones and milk, taunted him. His fangs clicked down. He waited for the woman to put her clothing back in order, and when she looked up, his eyes glowed with a dark light. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Shhh," Wolf soothed, moving toward her.

Paralyzed by fear and his gaze, she didn't try to run or scream, but her hands began a fine trembling.

"Relax." His voice filled her chest as he ran his hand along her shoulder to her neck, lifting the heavy curtain of wavy, dark hair. The woman stopped shaking, but she never took her eyes off his as he dragged her to him and spun her around. He tilted her head to one side, exposing her white neck and stretching it into a long, tight line. Resting his mouth over her jumping pulse, he bit. She jerked beneath him, her eyes fluttering and drifting closed. He gripped her tighter, drawing sweet blood in quiet gulps. It was sweeter than usual, and he flashed on a mental image of his own mother: young, strong, dark, and beautiful, but all mothers were beautiful to their sons. Was she as beautiful as he remembered? Or had time and memory worked their magic, softening the rough edges and creating an aura of nostalgia? Had 500 years edited his memory? His mother held a small, dark berry out to him, the sun blazing behind her in a clear, blue sky.

"Taste it, Wolf. It's perfectly ripe."

Her voice echoed down the years, waking up his humanity. He yanked his fangs from her neck. What was he doing? He blinked. She was tranquil in his arms, breathing deeply, relaxed in the vampire's spell. As sharp guilt cut through Wolf, he fortified himself against the warring wants. With a practiced detachment, he licked the bite wounds until the blood coagulated and the skin and tissue knitted back together. By morning it would itch like a bug bite and with the two faint marks, she'd think they were bug bites.

"You went into the woods to relieve yourself and noticed how unusual the moon is tonight," he whispered into her ear.

She nodded. "The halo is beautiful. What is it?" Her voice thick with magic.

"It's the wolf moon."

He nudged her away until she walked on her own, her vacant face tilted up. The spell dissipated and awareness firmed her eyes as she looked to her left then right. She hesitated, looking up at the moon once more and glanced over her shoulder, but Wolf was gone. She had a vague sense of well-being mingled with fear and arousal. _What a strange sensation_ , she thought. He'd taken the memory from her. It was his alone.
Chapter 7

When Loti woke the next day, she couldn't quite remember why she was in the guest room at Rachel's house. Her dreams and the previous night's events were all jumbled together, and she labored to sort it all out. She remembered everything, but couldn't decide what was dream and what was real. _Wolf. The raven._ They were real. _The black man? Dream?_ Yes, he was a dream. There was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Come in." Loti yawned, snuggling the quilt up under her chin.

"Did you sleep okay?" Rachel eased the door open and poked her head inside. Still in her oversized black T-shirt with "Witches Bend it Best" printed in white across the front, she plopped down in the antique bedroom chair. Wolf sat there. Yes, he was real. Things were shaking out in her head.

"I have to get ready." Loti groaned, hiding her head under the covers. "I have to pack." She tucked the covers back under her chin, wrinkling her nose. "I have to shower."

"Do you want me to come over and help you get ready?"

"Thank you, no." Loti rolled onto her side. "I can manage."

"What's wrong?"

Loti sat up, letting the covers spill around her waist. "Why do we have to stay with Calisto?"

"I don't know. But let's just play along with Wolf for now." Rachel stood up, stretching her arms overhead like Wolf had done the night before.

"You trust him? Even after what happened between you?" Loti tossed the covers aside and scooted down to the end of the old, wrought iron bed, hanging her legs over.

Rachel nodded deliberately. "Yes, I think I do."

Loti snorted. "Well that fills me with confidence."

~~~~~~~~~

Once she was home and downed her first cup of coffee, the day gained momentum. She forced herself to put the night's disturbances aside by busying herself with laundry and phone calls. Her backpack and a duffel bag lay open on her bed, and bit by bit, she filled them. She stopped at noon to inhale a bowl of lentil soup and went back to work.

Before she knew it, the sun was sinking behind the Blue Ridge Mountains. From her front porch, she watched it disappear, wondering if anyone was up on that ridgeline. Probably not; it was too early in the season and too cold. Rubbing her arms, she looked over her shoulder at where the moon would come up, simultaneously reaching for the tomato seedlings. Why had she even bothered with them? She would be gone until at least September.

She turned to go inside the house, the pungent smell of tomato plants and fresh dirt taking her back to last April. Spring sunshine warmed her skin as she carried a pitcher of ice water and a couple of plastic cups out to the weathered picnic table. David loosened root balls and tenderly patted dirt around the tomato seedlings. Her throat tightened as his shaved head—he'd done it that morning rather than watch his hair fall out—bobbed back and forth as he worked. Taking a deep breath, she convulsively swallowed. _Not now. There'll be time to cry later._

After the chemotherapy treatments and the last visit by Model-T, the old healer who had tended David's family for years, were over, David insisted on going out to see the tomato plants. It was June 5 and they were heavy with green fruit of various sizes that hung over the cages. With a wan smile, he shuffled like an old man, Loti steadying him.

"Hey, at least I get to see them like this before it's over."

She nodded as he turned over a tomato, afraid if she spoke, she'd blubber like a baby.

He studied the fruit for a moment, then gently released it. Without looking at her, he said, "Have you thought anymore about what I said?"

Loti stiffened, but David kept his back to her as he stepped over to the next plant. When she didn't say anything, he looked back, the hard ridges above his brow softening at the strained agony on her face. "It's okay, Loti. We have some time." Two thin fingers traced the cleavage of a large, green tomato. "But not a lot."

The cancer spread from his lungs to his lymph nodes so quickly the healers and doctors were perplexed. From there, their hope fell apart. And all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put David back together again.

Her cell phone tweeted.

She ran into the house, dropping the tray of seedlings on the table by the front window. Slamming the door, she grabbed her smartphone and glanced at the caller id. Groaning, she tapped the answer button.

"Hey, Mom." Loti covered her eyes with her free hand, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Well, are you packed?" Anyone else wouldn't notice the slurring.

Loti sighed. "Mm hm. Rachel and I are leaving tomorrow afternoon."

"I still don't understand how you could just drop everything like this, but before you get upset, I know you've made up your mind, so there it is."

"So why say anything, Mom?"

"'Cause I'm your mother, that's why."

_How many pain pills has she taken?_ "Well, I was just about to make some dinner, so I've got to go, mom." Loti dropped her hand and stared with dull eyes at the calendar tacked to the wall. March 22. It was the spring equinox.

"No time for your mother, huh?"

"It's not that, mom. I have a lot to get done before—"

"Don't you ever forget who you are, missy. Do you think you're better than your family? You always were too big for your britches. You're still my daughter, you know, and you'll always be."

"I know, mom." Her face sagged. "I love you."

There was a long, breathy pause from the other end. "I love you too, sweetie."

"Bye."

She hung up the phone and put her head down on her arms. Her mother's way of dealing with Calla's death and her father's abandonment was to self-medicate—drinking and prescriptions. At that point, Loti's grandmother had taken the reigns and helped raise Loti. When her Gra'mom died, Loti had stumbled while struggling to prop up her mother. She hadn't realized her Gra'mom was her touchstone, until she was gone. Then David had come along. Now, Loti had no energy left for it. She hoped her mother would be okay without her for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sign for the ashram read:

Welcome to the Marksville Ashram.

May all beings be safe.

May all beings be happy.

May all beings be healthy.

May all beings live with ease.

Namaste

"I thought that was a Buddhist quote?" Rachel mused as she turned at the sign.

"It is," Loti answered.

Rachel waited for more, but Loti turned in her seat, trying to see everything at once. It had been two years since she last visited, before David's battle with cancer. The ashram looked the same with its white adobe-style buildings scattered up the side of the mountain. When they drove over the gravel driveway past the welcome sign, the trees parted revealing a humbling view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Loti thought her heart would burst. It felt like coming home. Both women were silent as they drank it in. At the end of the road was the parking lot and the Welcome Center. It seemed out of place, like it belonged in the desert or somewhere with wide open skies instead of tucked in among the pine and poplar. The dorms, a much bigger three-story building, stood behind and to the right of the Welcome Center. Bits of white and glints of glass merged with the landscape, becoming a part of the natural scenery. Rachel parked the truck and climbed out of the cab. By the time Loti joined her at the tailgate, she was already dragging Loti's backpack out, grunting with the effort.

"What's in this thing?" Rachel steadied it on the ground, while Loti retrieved her ski poles. Rachel's brows arched. "What do you need ski poles for?"

"I use them as hiking poles." She tucked them under a bungee cord attached to her green backpack. Lifting the pack by a single shoulder strap, she executed a one-handed swing that settled it on her shoulders, and then she snapped the hip belt. Shifting the weight to her hips, she fiddled with the shoulder straps until the padding floated a hair's breadth above her shoulders. She wiggled her eyebrows at Rachel. Tilting her head, Rachel smiled. Was that a little of the old Loti Dupree emerging?

"Namaste," a male voice shouted. They both turned to a young man with a shaved head striding toward them, a big smile plastered on his face.

"You must be Calisto's guests." He clasped Loti's hand and beamed at her. Taken aback, she pulled away and almost lost her balance.

"How do you know who we are?" Rachel turned to the tailgate to retrieve her pack and duffel. Setting them on the ground, she straightened just in time to catch the young man's bear hug. Crinkling her brow at Loti over his shoulder, she loosened his grip.

"Rachel. It's me." She held him at arm's length and stared at his eager face until recognition dawned.

"Oh, my Goddess, Gage. What happened to your dreds?" Rachel hugged him hard, laughing and slapping his back as they rocked side to side. He left an arm draped over her shoulders as she turned to Loti one hand tapping his chest.

"Loti, this is Gage Masters. He was one of my students at the community college a few years back." She shoved him playfully. "How are you, and how'd you end up here?"

Gage turned his grin on Loti. "Hey, Loti. Good to meet you."

She nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Rachel, who was grinning just as maniacally as Gage.

"He used to have dreds down to his butt and now he's all clean shaven." Rachel crowed as she rubbed the top of his head with her knuckles.

"Knock it off!" He slapped her hand away. "Come on. We can talk on the way to Calisto's. Margarite's expecting you."

Gage snagged the two duffel bags, while Rachel arranged her pack on her back. He signaled with a jab of his head for them to follow as he took off toward the far side of the parking lot, their quilted duffels dangling from his fists. As Rachel put the tailgate back in place, she looked at Loti with an impish grin and they both giggled.

"You look mighty cute carrying pink and purple bags, there, Gage." Rachel called after him.

He smirked over his shoulder, "Come on. It's a good hike to their place." Gage paused at the trailhead to let them catch up, and as they tromped off into the woods on the wide path, Rachel started the inquisition.

"How'd you end up here? When did you cut off the dreads?"

"Right after graduation. I still couldn't figure out what I wanted to do, so I followed a couple friends here. They left when the initial three months were up, but I stayed." He was talking and walking fast. "There isn't anywhere else I want to be right now."

Rachel nodded, double-stepping to catch up with him. "So you didn't pursue your bachelor's?"

"No. I'm not sure if I need to at this point. Call me Anand."

"Anand?" Rachel picked up her pace until they were side-by-side.

"That's the name Gurudev gave me after my initiation." He looked down at his feet, helpless to stop the spreading grin.

"Initiation?" Rachel sounded uncertain.

"When you decide to stay on, you go through an initiation process." Loti piped up. "It's a spiritual thing, not a hazing thing."

"Oh. Well, I like the name," Rachel said. "It means 'happiness,' doesn't it?"

His grin spread even wider. They continued chatting as the path narrowed up the mountain, seeming to forget Loti was there, but she didn't mind. She was happy to let them catch up while she soaked up the fresh, cool mountain air and the gentle afternoon sunshine. The forest was mostly brown, except for the occasional mountain laurel and pine tree. The gray rocks lining the trail had the aura of being lovingly placed, but at the same time, they appeared to have rolled down the mountain to that exact spot. The bare poplars and oaks glowed with the golden light of late afternoon, a magic light that made Loti think anything was possible, even life after David. A cold breeze blew in a long gust.

The white adobe buildings looked like clouds stuck amongst the browns and grays. As Anand, previously known as Gage, led them farther into the woods, the path grew steeper and narrower. He pointed out features, dorms, and meditation spots as they walked single file, the trees closing in around them. Loti was breathing a little too hard and was grateful to see the top just a hundred yards away, but as they approached the land leveled then sloped up. Anand droned on, but Loti couldn't understand him anymore. The world was muffled, like someone had shoved cotton balls in her ears, and her heart raced. She put a hand on her chest, stumbling over her own hiking pole. Anand gestured to a house as he talked on about it and Loti wheezed.

"Are you okay?" Rachel turned around. She grabbed Loti's arm as Loti came to a halt, sucking at the air and trying to take a deep breath; it was as if the air was too thick to breathe. Her heart fluttered and thumped. Closing her eyes, she sensed something watching her behind the blobs of dark and color. Her head pulsed as she hunched her shoulders. As cool as the early spring air was, she suddenly was burning alive.

"Loti?" Rachel shook her by the shoulders, making Loti's eyes pop open and the woods wobbled and swayed.

"I'm scared, Rachel." Loti whimpered and little sparks of pain lit up her belly. Her lungs resisted opening and her head pounded harder.

"Is something wrong?" Anand jogged back to them. Rachel held her hand out in a step-back gesture, and he did. Suffocating, Loti knew not to struggle, but she couldn't help gulping down air like water, letting out noisy, shuddering exhales. _What am I so afraid of?_ She squeezed her eyes shut and saw David's head in her lap, one hand caressing his cheek and the other resting on his bald head. Cupping her eyes with her palms, she concentrated on breathing into the tight knot in her solar plexus, trying to loosen it. _I'm so afraid, so afraid_. David's eyes were closed, as if he were asleep, but she knew he wasn't.

She fell to her knees, pack and all. A new image replaced David—stars glittering on the oak flooring in front of her fireplace. Thick, red liquid oozed over them, putting them out, one by one. She let out a strangled cry. _What am I doing here?_ The image melted into blackness. Meeting a nest of vampires? Am I crazy? The heels of her hands pressed hard against her eyeballs, and she concentrated on the pain and darkness. _No, no, no crying._ But a defiant sorrow filled her chest, and she moaned. _No one knows what this feels like. No one knows how alone I am_. Images of David mixed with Jeremy and Rachel and Wolf, with the black man in her dream, laughing. _Oh, god, I'm losing it_. Rachel's hands slid down her arms as her skin prickled and burned like something hot and effervescent flowed underneath.

"Don't hug me, Rachel," Loti warned. She dropped her hands and opened her eyes. The orange afternoon light faded and moved closer to sundown. Something about that knowledge cleared her head a little. Holding her breath, the blood pulsed deep in her abdomen. When the air flowed out, her knees sank deeper into the ground in a reassuring way, like the earth itself was holding her up.

"Can you stand up?" Rachel asked quietly.

Turning glassy eyes to her, Loti grabbed her upper arms. Frowning, Anand clasped his behind his back. He didn't ask what happened; he just watched.

"Did you feel that, Anand?" Rachel asked as she helped Loti to her feet.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Somebody's messing with her."

"Who?" Loti demanded, the world wavering around her.
Chapter 8

The sun hovered above the Blue Ridge like an orange super ball, solid with distinct edges. The threesome stopped in front of an isolated adobe house. Unlike the others, it was bigger and bloomed from the side of the mountain as if it had roots in the rocks. Loti's chest fluttered as she rolled her stiff neck and wrapped her arms around a sour stomach, poles dangling from their wrist straps.

"This is Calisto's place," Anand announced. At the same time the front door opened and a petite, blonde woman appeared.

"Anand." She skipped down the front steps, her ankle-length green dress swirling around her. "Good to see you." She hugged him, but when she released him, her green eyes clouded with concern. Her hands trailed down his arms and clasped his hands.

"What's wrong?" She brought his hands to her chest, glancing from him to Loti to Rachel.

"We're not sure, but something just happened." Anand let go of Maragarite's hands and touched Loti's arm. "This is your guest, Loti Dupree, and her friend, Rachel Brown. Loti and Rachel, this is Margarite."

Margarite's smile glowed as she offered a delicate hand to Loti. "It is nice to finally meet you, my dear." Tingles broke out on Loti's neck as she looked to Rachel, who gave the smallest of nods. Loti extended her hand, bracing as the woman clasped it in both of hers.

"Nice to meet you, too." Loti's voice was a little shaky. A small jolt flashed between them, and Loti involuntarily jerked back, but Margarite's hands gripped tighter. Prickly warmth spread up Loti's arm and she gasped. "What are you doing?"

Margarite's eyes widened then narrowed as her lips pursed. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry. Did I frighten you?" The prickly warmth drained down Loti's arm and out her fingertips.

"I didn't think that it would bother you. It's a little automatic for me these days, I'm afraid. I have to consciously control my magic." Her smile apologized as Rachel stepped between them, extending her own hand.

"I'm Rachel Brown."

Margarite's eyes glittered with recognition and anticipation as she took Rachel's hand. The women clasped all four hands together, studying each other with the intensity of scientists. Their eyes alternately widened and narrowed as moments passed.

"You have great potential," Margarite whispered. "Your grandmother doesn't exaggerate."

"You know my grandmother, Katie Brown, then?" Rachel raised her eyebrows.

Margarite nodded, releasing Rachel's hands.

"Can you tell anything? About Loti, I mean," Rachel asked, rubbing her hands, as if she were trying to wipe something away.

"Only an absence. Something was there, but there's no magical fingerprints." Margarite's eyes clouded for a second, and she shook her head and smiled. "Come. Let's get you settled." She waved for them to follow her as she led them up the front steps and into the house.

"What did you do to me when we shook hands?" Loti asked Margarite as she passed through the door frame. The pixie-like woman's shoulder-length hair swung loosely as she turned inside the foyer, propping it open for everyone to enter. The foyer walls glowed the same soft white as the exterior, and the wood floors matched the pine door.

"I was, well, scanning you." She looked thoughtful. "As I said, I do it without thinking. I hoped I could detect the magical signature. The fact that you felt it while it was happening is. . .interesting." She turned toward a flight of stairs just across from the doorway.

"Margarite, I need to get back to the welcome center, "Anand said from the doorway. "Is there anything you need before I go?" He stood in his heavy fleece coat and matching pants, his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders thrown back, looking for all he was worth like a proud warrior. His eyes shone with admiration, and for some reason, Loti was more than a little disturbed by that look. Not that she thought Margarite didn't deserve it—she didn't know if she deserved it or not—but it made her think of religious zealots.

"No, nothing at the moment. We will be having a drum circle this evening, if you care to join us." Her smile was feminine and genuine, and Loti liked her for it.

"After satsang?" Anand asked.

She nodded, turning back to climbing the stairs as Anand nodded to Loti and Rachel and slipped away.

"Your room is upstairs. It has a pretty view of the ashram. Come on, we'll get you two settled before the others arrive," Margarite said.

Loti shifted both hiking sticks to the hand holding her duffel, so she could trail her fingers along the pine banister. Large, colored photographs adorned the white wall above the hand rail. They were artsy looking: people in candid poses, landscapes, close ups of flowers and leaves and rocks. She held her breath when a photo caught her eye. Three people with their arms around each other smiled at a happy Wolf lying on a multicolored braided rug between them. His hands behind his head, his head rested in Margarite's lap while he beamed at the camera. He looked out of place in his motorcycle jacket and engineer boots next to the two other men in kurtas—the traditional Indian collarless shirts. One of the men rested his head on Margarite's shoulder, smiling at the other man across from him. Margarite's arm was wrapped around a man with dark, wavy hair. The older, Indian-looking man rested an easy hand on Wolf's leg. It was a happy little scene and intimate in a way that made Loti feel like a voyeur. It unnerved her. Maybe it made her think of happier times before David's cancer. Maybe it made her think of ominous, unforeseen things lurking in the shadows. She ran her finger down the glass, over Wolf's image.

"This is your room, ladies," Margarite said, as she opened one of a series of polished, pine doors.

~~~~~~~~~

After unpacking, Rachel urged Loti to take a shower to calm her nerves, and to give Margarite and Rachel time to talk. Loti gratefully escaped to the simple bathroom for a moment to herself. _I can do this._ Hot water rushed over Loti's hair as she bowed her head, closed her eyes.

You can't escape, Loti.

She snapped her head up, spluttered and spit as the water filled her nose and mouth. She heard that voice somewhere before, but she couldn't remember where. "No," she whimpered.

You are only fooling yourself if you think you can run away.

She squeezed her eyes shut while thinking, _this is not real, this is not real._

Oh, but it is, sweet Loti, you are what you are and cannot fight it.

Loti trembled as something thick and hot and paralyzing slithered through the small shower space, her teeth chattering.

This is who you are—you are—

"No," she screamed so hard and so loud her throat seized up, and she dissolved into coughing spasms. The living heat squirmed its way through her chest, up her throat, filling her nose. She clawed at her throat and face. Dizzy, so dizzy. _Don't faint, don't faint._ She slipped and fell backwards into the tub. She had one more moment to think, _don't hit your head_ , and then all was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti's scream echoed from the next room at the same time Margarite's wards alerted her that something had breached their protection spells. She dropped the pillow she held and sprinted for the bathroom. Rachel ran after her.

"Loti," she yelled as she threw open the bathroom door.

_What's going on, Margarite?_ Calisto's voice murmured in Margarite's head.

"I don't know, Calisto. Something broke through our security and is attacking Loti." She spoke out loud in her panic. "Our wards didn't alert me it was happening until she screamed." In the bathroom, the lights were out, but it was more than that—it was dark magic obscuring their vision. Stumbling in blackness, Margarite flailed her arms in front of her, the steam oppressive.

"I can't see a thing," Rachel yelled over the running shower as she stumbled into Margarite in the dark. The shower curtain rustled as Margarite shoved it aside.

"Calisto." Margarite called out as her hands found Loti's limp body and Rachel chanted a protection spell.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The words spilled from Rachel's mouth as she reached out for Loti in the heat and darkness with her power. Her voice deepened as she drew on her own power and Margarite's voice and energy joined hers. She recognized a third familiar and very strong power—vampire magic. _Margarite must be bonded to Calisto_ , she thought before the two women stretched out their awareness in a room obscured by the steam and darkness. Rachel could feel and taste death magic in the air.

It is powerful magic. And it is—

Rachel heard Calisto's voice in her head as she patted around for Margarite's hand, grappling with the shower curtain to keep from falling. "Margarite." Rachel grabbed Margarite's hand. "Help me."

When the two women clasped hands, Rachel could see several things at once. With her magic, she sensed the dark magic binding itself to Loti, and with her physical eyes, she saw Loti's collapsed form and the red rivulets of blood washing down the drain. Taking a deep breath, Rachel honed in on a dark blotch on Loti's aura—Loti's physical injury was not fatal—but someone had marked her at some unknown time. The mark was a magical link to someone. It had given that someone access to her, even through the layers of magical protection. Margarite, still holding Rachel's hand, climbed into the tub, and Rachel helped her gather up Loti. She settled Loti between Margarite's legs as the woman drew Loti tight against her. Slowing her respiration to an imperceptible level, Margarite turned her magic to the task of healing Loti's injury.

Rachel's power sizzled through the mark's center, pushing the dark magic back as she followed it along an unseen metaphysical strand out into the ether. Momentarily disoriented in the vast space, she sensed whoever was at the other end of this must be very powerful. They had to be to work magic this strong from such a distance. Rachel jerked her head as her awareness popped up in a close, dark space with a low fire snapping in an open fireplace. A male figure with shoulder length hair sat upright in a leather club chair, eyes closed.

_Who is he?_ But before she could make out any features, his eyes snapped open. They churned with points of light and deep blackness that expanded, filling her vision as his power burst toward her. In confused horror she thought she recognized the magical signature. She had to cut the link before his power smashed into her. Back in the bathroom, hot water soaked her as she clung to Margarite's hand. Loti's eyes fluttered and the bathroom door banged against the wall.

"Margarite, are you alright? Is the woman alright?" A dark blur streaked to Margarite's side, and a wavy-haired man turned off the water, cradling Margarite's face as he looked down at Loti. Rachel backed up slowly, dropping Margarite's hand, and turned to see two more men inside the bathroom door, arms slightly away from their bodies and knees bent, as if ready to spring. She skirted around the men to grab towels for the wet women in the tub.

"Yes, I think so. She's waking up," Margarite said as she helped Rachel wrap Loti in an oversized bath towel. Gentle fingers probed Loti's head. "It's healing." She sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti opened her eyes to Rachel's blurry face. "What happened?" she whispered.

"Well, tell me the last thing you remember," Rachel asked.

Cocooned in towels, Loti struggled to sit up.

"I was—" her eyes darted around the steamy room, "taking a shower and I heard a voice in my head. . .Rachel?"

Rachel loosened the towel so Loti could free her arms. As Loti wiggled her arms out, she glanced around at the three men and Margarite who was holding her in the tub. Her hands free, she brushed the wet strands out of her eyes. "And then I couldn't breathe. I don't know what happened after that."

"You were attacked," Rachel said. "But you're safe now."

"I'm sorry we didn't protect you better." Calisto's voice was troubled as he knelt by the tub, helping Margarite maneuver out from under Loti while Rachel held her up. As Margarite stepped from the tub, Rachel looked over her shoulder. The two blank-faced vampires guarded the door, hands clasped in front of them.

"I think Loti needs some privacy." Rachel said.

"Of course." Calisto held Margarite by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. She nodded, and he kissed her on the cheek. Motioning to the men at the door, he said, "We will go."

And just like that, they were gone. Margarite and Rachel unwrapped Loti, who swayed on her feet. Closing her eyes, Margarite held Loti's head between both hands. She sighed as she opened stricken eyes and dropped her hands.

"It's healing. At least I did that right." She helped Loti rearrange the towels. Rachel's hug was fierce, but Loti could only manage an anemic one in return.

"Don't beat yourself up, Margarite. I was right next door, and I didn't sense anything until she screamed either," Rachel said as she held Loti at arms distance. "How are you feeling?"

"Very weak," Loti groaned.

"I wish we knew who it was." Margarite rubbed her face with her hands.

"I think I know who may be involved," Rachel said, her tone shaky and her eyes uncertain.
Chapter 9

"Who?" both women chorused.

"Well, at least I think I know whose magic it was."

Rachel guided Loti to the toilet and put the lid down for her to sit. Loti eased herself down with care and clutched her knees, trying to steady her nerves. Her head still throbbed where she'd hit the edge of the tub.

"When he threw that last blast of power at me, I recognized the signature, but it doesn't make sense." Rachel frowned as she turned to the windowsill beside the sink, digging through a basket full of toiletries until she fished out a hair brush. It shook as she handed it to Loti, who hesitated as she reached for the brush. Margarite gingerly lowered herself to the edge of the tub, eyeing Rachel.

_She isn't as okay as she wanted Calisto to believe_ , Loti observed.

Rachel leaned against the white pedestal sink, arms crossed over her chest. "It felt like Patrick Lynch."

Loti's mouth hung open as she lowered the trembling brush to her lap. "You've got be kidding. Patrick?"

Nodding, Rachel uncrossed her arms and held onto the edge of the sink.

"The name sounds familiar." Margarite tightened her grip on the claw foot tub. "Is he a member of your grandmother's coven?"

Loti's stomach shrunk into a hard ball. Patrick was the kindest, most beloved guy she knew. His life was all about others. He taught for the university, tutored, and mentored. His students loved him, even if he was the toughest metaphysics professor there. She'd known him since she was eighteen, and he'd been there for her when her Pop Pop passed away after freshman year. They'd played endless games of badminton with Rachel and her brothers and cousins at the countless Brown family picnics.

"You can't believe he'd do something like this, Rachel?" Loti's voice rose to a tight squeak.

"Where is he right now? Do you know?" Margarite asked.

"That's the other thing," Rachel said. "Besides the fact that Patrick would never do something like this, he's in Ireland visiting with extended family. He left yesterday."

Margarite nodded, staring hard at the floor.

"He's a powerful warlock, Margarite, but not that powerful. To perform that kind of spell over such a long distance takes—"

"A lot of power. Yes, I know." Margarite lifted her troubled gaze to Rachel.

"But this came from a long way. I felt the distance when I followed the magic." Rachel worried a hangnail. "I got a glimpse of the guy and it wasn't Patrick. I don't understand."

"You said he's not that powerful."

"Maybe he is now?" Rachel turned baffled eyes to Margarite.

Loti's head swung like a tennis racquet from Rachel to Margarite to Rachel. She tucked her hair behind her ears and stood shakily. "I can't believe Patrick would do this."

"You said that already," Rachel snapped as she hurried to Loti's side, but Loti waved her off, yanking the towel up under her armpits.

"It was Patrick's magic, Loti," Rachel implored, her hands falling to her side. "Once you feel someone's power, you don't forget it. It's like the sound of their voice, unique to them and hard to fake. Impossible to fake, actually."

Loti shook her head. "I know your grandmother, and she wouldn't associate with someone who would use their magic this way." She glared at Rachel. "And I know Patrick. It's not just the children's cancer thing or that he's a pillar of the community." Her hard gaze dissolved into a desperate plea. "It's the daisies he always brings your Nan and the way he looks at me and you like we're his girls and he's proud." Loti hid her face in her hands, crying softly, the hairbrush still shaking.

"It was death magic."

Margarite's head snapped up and her knuckles turned white. Loti's hairbrush clattered to the pine board floor.

"You should contact your grandmother. See if she can get ahold of him." Margarite's lips disappeared into a thin, tight line.

"I will." Rachel hurried out of the bathroom.

Margarite stood awkwardly. "You should finish getting cleaned up, dear. I think we could both use something to eat and some tea, perhaps?" She laid a tired hand on Loti's shoulder. "I'll make us something that'll calm our nerves and soothe our aches."

Loti didn't like the edge to Margarite's voice. "What are you thinking?" she asked warily.

Margarite waved her hand. "Death magic is—"

"Death magic," Loti spit out the words. "Someone or something had to die to make it."

Margarite nodded a slow, unhappy nod, her hand weighing heavy on Loti's shoulder. She stared blankly for a moment. Her mouth flitted around a small smile. "Let's get something to eat and introduce you to our family. Maybe we can figure this out together." She patted Loti's shoulder, then left.

~~~~~~~~~~

Loti zipped up her most comfortable blue jeans and pulled a V-neck Henley shirt with tiny pearlized buttons over her head. Cell coverage being almost nil in the Blue Ridge, Rachel went downstairs to talk to Nan on the house phone. Loti glanced at the digital clock by the futon bed—it was 7:00 pm. _How'd it get so late?_ Rubbing the sore spot on the back of her head, she realized with a jolt that it was same place as Calla's tumor. Their pediatrician had sent Calla to all the specialists in Philadelphia, Pittsburg, and even at John Hopkins, and they all tested her for every possible bacteria and virus. Complete toxicology workups were ordered, over and over, and multiple healers couldn't find anything wrong with her stomach, either. Everyone speculated about unbalanced energy fluctuations, toxic build-up and mixed up herbal concoctions and blended essential oils, made tinctures and recommendations.

But Loti knew it wasn't her stomach. What she "saw" was something wrong with the energy in her sister's throat and head. She couldn't tell the adults how she knew back then, and they thought she was sweet for trying to help, but it was Night Eyes who listened to Loti, and sent them to a neurologist. Dr. Neil ordered a CAT scan, just to be on the safe side, he'd said. The results were mind-numbing—a tumor on the right side of her cerebellum, the lower part of the brain at the back of the head, just above the neck was blocking the drainage of cerebral fluid. The size of an orange, it crushed the brain stem where vomiting was controlled and the back wash of fluid was three times what it should have been.

On her way down the stairs, Loti glanced up and caught sight of the same picture of Margarite, Wolf, and the two men. She now recognized one of the men as Calisto, the one she had her arm around, his curly hair dark against her pale cheek. She paused, trying to get a sense of when the photo might have been taken. It was color, but a bit washed out—maybe the 70s. But that wasn't possible because Margarite looked the same in the photo as she did now. Vampires didn't age, but witches and healers did. They were human after all. Maybe the photo had been photoshopped? A familiar effervescence coursed up her spine and she shivered.

"Are you alright?"

Wolf's deep voice tightened her stomach before she saw him. Taking the next few steps with her hand on the rail, she stopped on the last one so she was face to face with him.

"I wanted to make sure you were settling in." An easy smile reached his eyes and softened the chiseled edges of his face. "It's been a long time since I've been human, but I can appreciate how intimidating a nest of vampires can be." He stepped back as Loti took the final step down, and she looked up at him.

An almost irrepressible urge to reach up and touch his hair scared her a little, and so did the thought that his bottomless eyes might swallow her up. She looked away.

"Calisto and the others are waiting for you in the living room," Wolf said.

Loti looked back at him, this time careful not to look into his eyes. "Do. . . I mean, can. . . vampires hypnotize a human with their eyes?" Loti asked his chin. Not a single whisker. She wondered how he could shave so smoothly or did he need to shave at all? Weren't natives naturally smooth skinned—no beards or facial hair? And did vampires' hair grow? The one college course she'd taken on vampires, the only course available, didn't cover things like that. Very little was known about them, and they liked it that way.

"Yes, some can." Wolf held very still. "Not all."

She swallowed. "Can you?"

He nodded slowly.

"Have you?" A tremor shook her voice.

He didn't answer right away, so to keep from looking up she stared at his full lips. The impulse to run her index finger over his bottom lip made her hand twitch. She clasped them tight together, frightened she might actually do it.

"I have." He paused. "And I would again if I thought it were necessary."

She watched his lips move as he spoke, and then with a cautious awareness, she allowed her gaze to wander over his cheek bones to his nose and, finally, to his eyes. "Do they have to be looking in your eyes?"

He nodded.

"Wolf!" Rachel yelped from behind Loti, hurrying from a room on the other side of the stairs and practically leaping into his arms. "Did Loti tell you what happened?"

Wolf caught her easily, his black hair swinging. Loti shivered, clasping the elbow of her rigid arm.

"I have to go see Nanny. She's already called the coven to a meeting. She wants to meet with the Travelers and Calisto." Her words tumbled over each other in her effort to say everything at once.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down. What's wrong?" Wolf's brow creased as he tried to make sense of it.

"Wolf? Would you help me with this?" Wolf looked over his shoulder where Margarite stood in the kitchen archway with a tray of food. He turned away from Rachel and Loti, taking the tray out of her hands. She picked up a large soup tureen and tilted her head to the other side of the kitchen where a large archway led to what looked like a living room.

"What happened?" Wolf asked as he followed her.

"Come. Everyone's waiting in the living room." Margarite walked through the archway. "We'll explain when everyone's settled."

There was a knock on the door, and Rachel went to answer it, while Loti stood in the big kitchen, looking in both directions, uncertain which way to go.

"Anand," Rachel said as she opened the door.

"Hey, Rachel, are you ready?"

Rachel glanced back at Loti. "Almost. Come in while I get my stuff." She opened the door wider to allow Anand to step into the foyer.

He lifted his chin toward Loti. "You doing okay?"

"Yes, yes I am." Loti said, not at all certain.

"Loti, are you going to be okay while I'm gone? I have no idea when I'll be back." Rachel stood with one hand on the banister, biting her lip.

"I'll be fine." Loti forced a smile.

"I can't keep Nan and the coven waiting." A gentle smile curled her lips. "Wolf will look out for you. He really is a good guy, Loti."

"I get it. Go. I'll be okay." She waved both hands at Rachel and pushed her smile up into her eyes as best she could. Rachel paused another second then beamed and bolted up the stairs, leaving Anand and Loti to smile awkwardly at each other.

"Loti?"

She shivered at the sound of Wolf's deep voice. _Good lord, I'm sick of that_.

"Hey, Wolf? How's it hanging?" Anand stuffed his hands in his pants pockets, rocking back and forth on his toes.

"Good, Anand. And you?" The corner of Wolf's mouth twitched and his head shook ever so slightly.

"Couldn't be better." Anand grinned too hard, and Wolf looked sideways at Loti.

"Where's Rachel?"

"She's getting her things. Rachel's going to meet with the coven," Loti said.

"Margarite asked me to go with her, just in case."

With narrowed eyes, Wolf regarded Anand. He shifted from one foot to the other under Wolf's gaze.

"After the attack and all." Anand scratched the back of his head.

"Attack?" Wolf scowled, the hard edges returning.

"We'll tell you all about it, Wolf." Margarite appeared beside Loti. "But first, let's get Loti something to eat, and we'll discuss it in the living room." She guided Loti with a hand on her arm toward the archway.

"I'll make sure Rachel's safe," Anand called in a jittery voice.

"You'd better."

Loti snapped her head around at the threat in Wolf's voice, but Margarite tugged on her arm. She let Margarite lead her through the archway into a sitting room with a stone fireplace and overstuffed furniture—the setting from the photo. Several people sat on the couch and stood around the room, talking. She recognized Calisto and the two men from the bathroom. She softened her gaze to confirm they were indeed vamps. The men were, but the woman with them was human and most likely a witch. The woman stood out, not because of her energy, but because of the ultra-modern, edgy haircut and off-the-shoulder red cashmere sweater she wore over skinny jeans.

Prickly anxiety heated up the back of Loti's neck as it dawned on her she was in a room full of blood drinkers. There were so many reasons not to be here. A hand covered her shoulder, and she knew who it was by the pulse that passed between them. _It's definitely softer_.

"It's alright, Loti. You're safe here."

She should be more cautious, more worried that a vampire had his hand on her—especially one who affected her this way, but she wasn't. He could crush her throat or throw her across the room with that hand, but she was more than okay with that, which petrified her. She turned back to the small crowd, walking deliberately out from under his touch.

His hand slid off her shoulder, and he lowered his arm, watching her—they all watched her. She tried to take them all in, to see each one in turn and tell the difference between humans and vampires, but as Wolf's hand slipped away, the slow pulse changed back into the spine-numbing electric buzz. She repressed the urge to shiver. Irritated, and trying way too hard to be calm, she refocused on the people around the room, determined to get a grip.

The two on the loveseat closest to her were humans, a guy and a girl, but the petite, voluptuous woman lounging on the couch was a vampire. The two vampires by the fireplace seemed affable enough, although they held themselves with a careful air like they were ready for anything. The woman, however, leaned against the wall as if all of this was annoying. The big, brown eyes outlined with heavy kohl were peculiar compared to the clean faces everyone else wore. The only sensible thing about her was her black winter boots, but even those had oversized silver buckles and black shearling peeking out and spilling over the tops. She watched Loti with a half-cocked, blood-red smile. Loti tried a smile back, but it withered under the woman's hooded stare.

"Loti, are you feeling better?" Calisto skirted the large, round coffee table between them and reached for her hand.

Loti stiffened as his hand enveloped hers, expecting the same electrical charge she got from Wolf, but nothing happened. She looked up at Calisto in surprise.

"What's the matter, my dear," he asked with genuine concern in his voice. The corner of his mouth curled.

Loti shook her head, a shy smile creeping across her face. "It's nothing. I was expecting . . . well, never mind."
Chapter 10

So it wasn't all vampires. Just Wolf. She withdrew her hand, and Calisto tilted his head in a questioning manner then glanced over at Wolf who raised a single eyebrow. Grinning, Calisto patted Loti's arm and gestured to the bright blue and pink cushions arranged around the coffee table.

"Come, Loti, _s'asseoir. Manger_ ," Margarite said. "I've made vegetable soup and bread for dinner. Eat before it turns cold."

The smell of savory broth and cabbage saturated the room and Loti's stomach. It seemed like a lifetime ago she and Rachel had grabbed a bite at the little diner along the way to the ashram. She knelt down at the table with the other humans, including Bloody-Lips. Margarite dug into the soup tureen, filling pottery bowl after bowl while the two young humans broke off hunks of French bread, passing it around with butter and honey and a white tea pot. The vampires helped themselves to tea, but melted back to the edges of the room, except for Wolf. He knelt on a blue cushion next to Loti, reaching for a green mug with leaves wrapped around it. When she examined it closer, she saw the leaves formed a face.

"The Green man," she cried out, guffawing a big belly laugh. Embarrassed by the raucous sound, she clamped a hand over her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Wolf asked.

"I shocked myself." Her hand dropped to her lap. "Guess I haven't laughed much lately."

"I like the sound of it." The gentle enjoyment of his smile erased the hardness that owned his face the majority of the time. As he held her gaze, the buzzing in her spine amplified. _What in the hell? What is he doing to me?_

Nothing.

She bit her lip. Was that her thought or—no, it wasn't _that_ voice from the shower. It wasn't someone else's, but it wasn't exactly hers either. Frustrated and more than a little scared, the spoon trembled as she lifted it to her mouth. She chose to focus on the saltiness of the broth and the texture of the cabbage, peas, and potatoes. She glanced over at Margarite, who talked with the young blond man beside her, but she gave Loti a small, reassuring smile. Feeling prickly like something was watching her, Loti turned to see Ms. Bloody-Lips staring as she bit into a crusty piece of baguette. _If looks could kill._ Loti lowered her eyes. _I wish Rachel were here_.

Calisto eased himself down beside Loti, setting his white mug on the table, his smile heartening after Bloody-Lips. He carried himself in an effortless way, gentle and unpretentious, yet clearly he was their leader, and she suspected for very good reasons.

"Let me introduce everyone so you have names to put to faces." Calisto rested a hand on her thigh like an old friend, turning the other to the young man beside Margarite. His name was Justin. Next to him was an even younger looking Camille, who sounded decidedly southern when she said hello. Standing up to clasp Loti's hand, her white kurta shifted around narrow hips and tiny arms, making her look almost child-like.

"And this," Calisto lifted the corner of his mouth at Bloody-Lips, "is Fiamette, a healer. She is new to our family and is from Venice, aren't you, Fia?"

Fiamette's eyes darted from Calisto's careful smile to Loti's extended hand before extending her own.

"Charmed." She pressed her lips together in a tight, piqued smile and lifted her chin while she shook hands with Loti.

"It's nice to meet you." Loti pulled her hand away with a clear feeling that Fiamette was anything but charmed—maybe even insulted. But it made no sense to Loti, so she dismissed it as a projection of her own fears.

Appearing to ignore the edge in Fiamette's voice, Calisto moved right on to Keane and Marcus, the ones who had been in the bathroom earlier that evening. They nodded at Loti in turn, staying by the fireplace. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Wolf staring down Fiamette, who cast her eyes down at her food, her catty look faltering.

"And this is our Korinna."

Loti caught up with the introductions, following Calisto's outstretched hand to the youngest of the vamps at just 200 years old. She was from Greece.

"And of course, you've already met my Margarite. She comes from Auxerre, a little place outside of Paris."

"Not so little these days, I think," Margarite teased.

He dropped his eyes demurely. "Of course, my love. Time flies, does it not?" The two exchanged a sickening, sweet look. "Now that you know everyone, I think we need to discuss this attack."

"How did someone get past you?" Wolf's rigid face matched the intense, angry bees stinging Loti's spine. She ground her back teeth together, fisting her hands in her lap.

" _C'est ma faute_." Margarite rubbed one tired eye. "He marked Loti, and I didn't find it when I checked her before she came into the house."

"It's not your fault, Margarite," Calisto said quietly.

"He? Who? And how'd he penetrate your protection wards?" Wolf's voice rumbled.

"He used death magic," Loti interjected, looking from Wolf to Margarite, not liking the cold stare he gave the woman. Barely containing the urge to jump out of her skin, Loti rubbed at the bees that had escaped her spinal column and stung their way down her arms.

"No, it was my fault. I should have found the aberration in her aura. I—"

"Now, Margarite, don't be so hard on yourself. Rachel stopped the attack." He looked pointedly at Wolf. "And in the end, she is safe. Margarite healed her." Calisto looked back at Margarite. "You did your job. The wards are not your responsibility alone."

"I'll check all the protection spells with you, Margarite," Justin offered, half getting up from his cushion.

Something passed between Calisto and Wolf until Wolf's stare melted, and he was normal again. Without warning, he grabbed Loti's hand. His thumb rubbed absent-minded circles. An invisible liquid glided over her skin, drowning the stinging bees and stilling her restless spine, replacing it with a steady hum that calmed. She stared at their hands, too relieved to react to the assumptive and intimate gesture. _Much better, so very much better._ But he was so arrogant to touch her like that and in front of everyone. She glared at him and jerked her hand away. Wolf kept his hand on her leg, but she smacked it off. He watched her struggle with the stinging, a shadow of consternation passing over her. Then begrudgingly, she picked up his hand and brought it back to her leg, relief washing over her in slow, undulating waves. _What. The. Hell._

"Yes, in the end." Wolf muttered apologetically.

Margarite slumped against Calisto, who shifted so he could lean against the couch.

"Yes, in the end. But, it can't happen again." Calisto focused his reassuring eyes on Loti. "You need to be protected, at least until you're more capable of taking care of yourself."

"What does that mean?" Loti only half heard what Calisto had said. She was distracted by Wolf's surprisingly warm hand on her leg. He should have been cool to the touch.

"All in good time," Calisto assured her. To Wolf he said, "Rachel thought she knew the attacker which is why she contacted Katie Brown. She says it was Patrick Lynch."

Wolf squeezed Loti's leg, sharp pinpricks needling her. "Ouch," she yelped, trying to pry his hand loose, but Wolf held on. She narrowed her eyes. "What the hell, Wolf?"

Spoons ceased clinking and whispered conversations dissolved. Glances were exchanged around the room as Loti tugged at his hand harder until Wolf, at last, let go. As soon as he did, the buzzing returned.

"What is going on?" she yelled. Jumping up, she scrubbed at her arms.

Wolf stayed calm as he shifted back onto his hands, his gaze weightless.

"Will somebody please tell me something instead of staring at me?" Her nails bit into her palms as her hands clenched.

"Try to calm down—" Margarite began.

"Calm down? Do you have any fucking idea what's happening to me? What is this? It's like stepping on a hornet's nest and sticking your finger in a light socket all at the same time." She squeezed one shoulder toward her ear, grabbing the back of her neck, her face scrunched up around her nose.

"And _you_." She pointed at Wolf. "You know what this is. What is it? I only feel it around you."

Wolf tilted his head, offering his hand to her. "I can make it stop." He wasn't snide or belittling in the least, just patient and that pissed her off.

Leaning away from his hand, she controlled her tone. "No, you can't. You can change it, but you can't stop it." She looked down at her feet. "Unless you go away."

"I'm not going anywhere." His face a strange mixture of hard edges and soft appeal, he turned the proffered hand palm up.

She gave it her best defiant look, but her heart wasn't in it. The vibrating, stinging bees were unbearable.

"First, tell me what this is." Her voice was full of her misgivings.

"Nunne'hi. You are nunne'hi."

Loti gaped at him, surrendering her hand. His dark face opened up into that disarming gentleness as he pulled her to the floor. To his credit, he kept the smile at bay and respected the tentative truce. She sank into the pink cushion, her breath slowing.

"Nunne'hi," she breathed out. "Underground spirits? They went extinct. That makes no sense." She turned puzzled eyes on him.

"That's the legend my people tell, yes," Wolf said. "It's not clear if they were a separate race. Probably not. It's more likely they were humans with unique energy—like witches or healers."

"Why do you think I'm one?"

"This." He held their clasped hands up for everyone to see. "You're feeling uncomfortable energy when you're around me, aren't you? But if I touch you, it changes, right?"

Loti looked away, wishing he hadn't said the thing about it changing when he touched her out loud.

"That's absurd, Wolf. No one has seen or heard of the nunne'hi since the 1800s, and even then, they were fairytales." Fiamette's jaw flexed as she shoved fisted hands into her lap.

Wolf's look hardened into a warning, fanning the flames in her chestnut eyes.

"I felt it the night I found Rachel on Davis Street. Loti was a few blocks away." He spoke in a monotone, keeping wary eyes on Fiamette.

"You don't know what you're saying." She enunciated each word.

Loti's eyes widened at Fiamette's brave stare down. Wolf met her challenge with narrowed eyes and chilling, stony features until the fire in her eyes stuttered. He turned away from her and back to Loti.

"I didn't know you were there the first time, but I felt it. I didn't understand what was happening." Color returned to his voice, and Loti let out a sigh of relief.

Fiamette jumped up, knocking the table in the process, making tea slosh and spoons rattle. All eyes followed her as she stalked around the table to loom over Wolf and Loti.

Wolf ignored her, talking to Loti as if Fiamette didn't even exist. "When you showed up at Rachel's, I knew it was you."

"You better hope you're wrong." Fiamette spoke through her teeth, scowling, and her hands curled into white-knuckled fists.

Wolf's eyes didn't so much as flit in her direction, but they darkened into much more than a warning; they threatened. The tension between Wolf and Fiamette heated up the already warm room.

"Because you have no idea what kind of trouble you're stirring up."

"Then we better find out for sure, don't you think?" Calisto's voice bounced light and pleasantly, diffusing the tension. Rising from the floor, he guided Margarite as he stepped between Fiamette and Wolf. _Too much personality in one room_.

"How do we do that?" Loti surprised herself by finding her voice. "And wait," she held up her free hand to Wolf. "I still don't understand. You gave me a name, but not an explanation."

"I think the Travelers can help us with that," Calisto offered.

At his words, the others in the room relaxed and returned to their tea and meals, murmuring to each other in subdued voices. Wolf's gaze settled on their interlaced fingers, and he rearranged his features in a mildly amused expression. Margarite drifted around the room, filling cups with the last of the tea as if Fiamette wasn't staring at Wolf through Calisto's back. With a practiced air of decorum, she carried the tea pot into the kitchen. Although Loti didn't understand why, she was aware that the fight between Wolf and Fiamette was about her. Reluctantly, she released Wolf's hand, but at his questioning glance, she turned it over so his palm cupped her thigh and then she finished her soup. Calisto clapped his hands together, and Loti dropped her spoon into the bowl with a clank.

"I believe we have a drum circle to host," he declared.

Wolf shifted his eyes from Loti's lap to Calisto, who gave a single nod to the curly-headed Keane, still leaning on the fireplace. They all looked at each other, some communication taking place before the short vampire shifted his weight off the mantel. Without a word, Keane glided around the room, gesturing at the others to get up and out. Loti watched them file out as she dug up what Wind Daughter taught her about nunne'hi—spirits that could take on physical form. They traveled on light waves across the world and between universes, and they could move prana—the life force in all things—change its nature. They could do these things because they were subtle energy personified, and it was good luck to befriend one. How could anyone think she was one of them? She was human. Period. With a little healer mixed in, maybe, but she couldn't heal like tribal healers. She didn't have their gifts. Based on the last year, what she had was a curse.

Margarite returned from the kitchen, weaving through the exodus with the tea pot wrapped in a green dishtowel. "Let it steep for a few more minutes," she said as she set it in the middle of the table.

A thoughtful expression on his face, Calisto bent over the coals in the fireplace, stirring them with a poker. Wolf reclaimed her idle hand, working his fingers between hers. Fiamette stood in the same place with fisted hands, but the color was returning to her knuckles.

"Fiamette, I think you better explain what has you so upset," Calisto spoke evenly, never looking up.

Fiamette blew a quiet exhale through her nose, readjusting her jaw and shoulders. "If she's a nunne'hi," she said the word like it tasted bad, "and you go through with this test and wake up her powers, you are opening a metaphysical can of worms."

"Why? Because others will find out about her?" Calisto hung the poker back on its hook as he straightened. All four of them, Margarite, Calisto, Wolf and Loti, watched Fiamette shift her weight to the other foot and look away.

"Yes," she said to the wall with a worried frown.

"Then your point is moot, my dear. Somebody already knows," Margarite said in an appeasing tone.

Fiamette whipped her head around at Margarite. "But you could let it lie. Don't wake her up."

"And leave her vulnerable and in constant need of protection?" It was Wolf's turn.

"That's not up to us, is it?" Margarite drew Fiamette's angry look away from Wolf.

Fiamette's mouth opened, her eyes darting from Wolf to Margarite, and she pressed her lips together.

"No. It's not." She turned on Loti and Wolf, her gaze lingering over their clasped hands. "Don't say I didn't warn you," she whispered before turning on her booted heel and stalking out of the room.

Loti sat in shocked silence, staring after Fiamette. The front door slammed shut. When she looked back at Wolf, he sipped his tea, calm and unaffected.

"She's a little concerned. You must understand what a leap of faith we are taking."

Calisto knelt beside her, and she'd never heard a sound; he was just there, offering her the tea pot. Loti yipped like a scared little girl.

"Can you not do that?" she grumbled, holding her tea cup out.

"I think you ought to get used to it," he said with a guileless light in his eyes.

Loti sighed, rolling her eyes in mock irritation. "I suppose."

He chuckled and she smiled. Taking his time, he spooned a little honey into his tea and stirred, watching Loti watch him as she sipped. _Hot._ She licked her scalded lips. Calisto stood and extended his hand to Margarite.

Loti suddenly remembered what he'd said when he scared her. "I don't understand what you mean—what leap of faith?" she blurted.

"If you will join us, my dear." He took Margarite's hand and gestured for Loti to follow. "We are needed at the circle."

Loti pushed herself up from the floor. "You didn't answer my question."

"I know." Calisto drained his tea cup and set it down. She stared at the steam still rising from the now empty cup. "The answers are best shown, not told. Come."
Chapter 11

Her breath steaming in the mountain air, Loti walked hand-in-hand with a silent Wolf. She glanced up, but his eyes were downcast. The easy fit of their interlaced fingers riled her, but her comfortable hand wouldn't budge. Damn it if she didn't feel safe. Wolf shifted his eyes to her, but didn't speak. _What is he thinking? He can't be happy with this bizarre_ —discordant drums and babbling voices interrupted her thoughts. Calisto and Margarite were ahead, but they veered to the left and disappeared into the woods.

"Over here," Wolf murmured as he pulled her off the trail and into the woods. She straggled after him like a child being led by the hand. She rolled her eyes, but still didn't want to let go. The bonfire blazed in the middle of a noisy crowd, stars shimmering in its drift, sparks flying up. They stepped into a clearing near the edge of the squirming mass, Loti jumping out of her skin when a trumpet blasted.

A long, drawn out OM stretched across the gathering in three distinct sounds: "Aaaa uuuu mmm."

"Is that Calisto?" She stretched up on tip-toe, scanning the clearing. As the low trill of the M faded away, the crowd answered it with another elongated OM.

"Yes." Wolf's answer was clipped and perfunctory.

Loti flicked her eyes at Wolf's stony face and then back at the bonfire. Befuddled and not amused, she watched the throng shift as one around the fire to face what looked like a tall platform. The drums quieted as she made sense of the scene in the dancing firelight. Glancing back at Wolf, she huffed.

"Come on," she muttered and yanked his hand. "I want to see."

His expression didn't change, but he didn't resist as she dragged him behind her. _I'm attached to The Un-Jolly Black Giant._ She suppressed a snicker and pulled harder. She dived into the crowd, determined to get to the other side.

"It would be easier to go around," Wolf rumbled.

She didn't just want to get to the other side. She wanted to immerse herself in the throng, so she didn't have to be alone with him. Hadn't he been the one holding out his hand earlier, encouraging her? Why was he so broody now? _Whatever._

"Om namaya shivaya," Calisto sang to the crowd.

Where was he? She craned her neck, but they were deep in the mass of bodies, and she couldn't see over their heads.

"Om namaya shivaya," everyone chanted around her. A few drums picked up a random beat, more jumping in with rustling rattles layered between them.

"Shivaaya namaha, Shivaaya namah om." Calisto and the revelers swapped the mantra back and forth. The drums built their cadence, each beat blending with the next in a magic that was more than the sum of its parts. In the middle of it, she felt buoyant. She took a deep breath, joining the crowd's merriment on the exhale.

She sang "Shivaaya namaha, namaha shivaya" with the others, their voices resonating in her lungs and in her throat. She and Wolf reached the edge of the blazing bonfire, the drum beat rocking her back and forth with people snugged up on all sides. Turning into the flames, the only space available, the wavering heat baked her bare skin until she had to shift into Wolf. His black eyes glittered down at her.

She swallowed.

"Shambhu Shankara namah Shivaya," Calisto called.

"Shambhu Shankara namah Shivaya," she and Wolf answered.

His voice vibrated in her chest and jolted her backward as she dropped his hand. The irritating buzz returned, snapping her spine straight and she tripped over her own boots. Wolf grabbed her arms and righted her before she fell into the fire. His cool touch slithered up her arms and down her spine, erasing the annoying buzz. _Peace._

"We can't walk around holding hands all the time, Wolf," she yelled over the drum circle.

"I know."

She looked into his impassive face and waited for him to say something else, a different kind of irritation cultivating in her belly. When he didn't say anything else, she jerked her arms lose and twirled her back to him. She welcomed the searing heat and even the droning madness in her spine. Crossing her arms over her chest, she squinted against the smoke. Her predicament was insufferable, beyond the burden of her reversed-roles relationship with her mother or the non-existent one with her father. The tricks she learned to navigate the passive-aggressive quicksand of her marriage to David didn't apply, either. _So, now what?_

A hand slid around her waist, over her high-tech jacket. Even through the synthetic fabric his touch calmed her. She didn't want it to. The other hand followed, both linking over her ribs, under her breasts. He nestled his body against her back, and she shuddered. _God damn it._ His chin rested on top of her head as he swayed against her. God help her, she moved with him. She wrapped her arms over his and covered his hands with hers. She surrendered to the need to be held and let him hold her. Why couldn't she resist? Her thoughts betrayed her—and her body was even worse. The last refrain of the mantra echoed over the clearing, reverberated off the mountain, and bounced between the trees. The music fumbled and jangled until it casually fell apart.

"Friends. Welcome!" Calisto's voice boomed.

He stood on top of a large, flat boulder that jutted out from the mountain side. People whistled and clapped.

"We have the honor of some special guests tonight. The Travelers have agreed to lead us in song." The crowd howled their approval as Calisto turned and held out his arms. "Guided, my friend."

A beefy guy with a bushy beard and long hair stepped up, gripping Calisto in a warm embrace and kissing his face as they slapped each other on the back. So this was Guided—the leader of the Travelers, the ashram healer tribe. Most healers still lived in small tribes on the trail system that crisscrossed North and South America. Guided lifted his hands to the cheering mob, and they rewarded him with an outburst of rapid drums and hoots. A flute lilted over the noise, somehow penetrating it, and all went wild. Another man in bulky hiking boots, and a wooden flute to his lips, joined Guided as Calisto melted into the darkness. He lifted the flute over his head while the crowd chanted, "Peacemaker. Peacemaker. Peacemaker."

"Om Namah Shivaya," Guided shouted.

The crowd shouted it right back, while the drummers fumbled around. The people called kirtan until the drummers organized themselves into something a little funkier. Finger cymbals jingled and rattles rustled; their fearless leader, Guided, bobbed and dipped. He looked over his shoulder and nodded at Peacemaker, who brought the flute back to his lips. When Guided swung around to the crowd, his face crinkled into a pirate's smile as he rapped:

"I dedicate this rhyme to the Goddess of Power,

The Daughter of the Mountains, she's the source of all life.

The Destroyer of Fear, Shiva's devoted wife.

She's the bringer of Shakti and breath by the hour,

Parvati's love makes all the demons cower."

The crowd went ballistic, and Loti howled right along with them. Wolf's chuckle in her ear was like warm honey in her belly and it burbled into her weary chest. A grateful smile lifted her cheeks. It felt so good and natural she touched her face to make sure it was real. When she moved her arms, Wolf's hands slid to her hips. The fire roared to life as several bare-chested men tossed logs into its heart, and Loti turned away into Wolf's arms. He felt like shelter, and she sucked in air, light headed and over-heated.

Wolf held the base of her skull with one hand while his other arm circled her back. With her hands on his chest, it was so easy to surrender. Resting his cheek on the crown of her head, he closed his eyes, and they were one warm, drowsy body, high on the rhythm. The beat slowed and so did they. Loti's awareness floated from the smell of wood smoke and peppermint on Wolf's shirt to the cold, metal zipper on her cheek. His thigh tucked between hers while her soft belly pressed to his hard muscle, and their chests crushed together. His cheek slipped down her face, and his parted lips skimmed over hers with no direction or purpose other than to feel.

The sensations blurred—moist breath, skin-on-skin, no aggression, a moan. Something thick slid up from the base of her spine and weaved itself through all the small spaces, to the exact place where Wolf's hand held her head. The music changed again and again, but she barely noticed as the drumbeat and his body cocooned her in warm half-consciousness. The music rattled to an end, and there was a long shuffling pause, wood crackling and the fire whistled. As if waking from a trance, she blinked sticky eyes and swallowed. Wolf loosened his grip, and she slid numb hands around him. Blood rushed back into her hands in biting tingles as soft, pulsing waves rose in her tailbone, crested in her chest, and crashed in her head.

"What is this?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Wolf murmured.

She lifted her head at the roughness of his voice, and he pressed a kiss to her eyelid, then stepped away, one hand sliding down her arm. He never lost contact as he slipped his hand into hers.

"It's time," a female voice said.

Wolf's eyes shifted to look over Loti's shoulder and his eyes hardened. She spun around to Fiamette, whose face was lost in the contrast of black hair outlined in orange flame. Fiamette turned to look at the fire with anxious lines framing her mouth. Suddenly, she looked vulnerable. Uncertain, Loti looked to Wolf who seemed to be at a loss with the woman, as well.

"Calisto's waiting by the stage," Fiamette said to the fire, then hurried off, morphing into a black shadow against the flames.
Chapter 12

Loti and Wolf skirted the bonfire, making their way to the boulder while a tall woman walked out on the mock stage, flickering like an old-time movie in the muted flames of the dying fire. The eclectic crowd migrated together to the space between the bonfire and the stage. Squeezing shoulder to shoulder they sank to the ground, their eyes transfixed on the red haired lady. A gentleman in a fleece hat settled down with a guitar, picking at a few notes. With the view opened up, Calisto and Guided waved to them from the trees on the far side of the rock. Fiamette trotted past them without so much as an acknowledgment and disappeared into the woods. Calisto's eyes followed Fiamette as she passed, lingering for a moment on her retreating back, then he turned a warm smile on Loti and Wolf. He made a hurry-up gesture with his hands.

"Osiyo." Guided greeted Wolf with a slap on his back and grabbed his hand with the other, making him drop Loti's. Wolf mirrored him and their grins spoke of friendship and a hard won fondness that made Loti's heart skip a beat. Retrieving her hand, Wolf drew her into their circle.

"Loti, I'd like you to meet Guided by Voices, the tribal leader of the Travelers."

"Lighten up." Guided rolled his eyes and wrapped his huge paw around Loti's small hand.

She gripped back and took a deep breath. "Good to meet you."

"I hope these guys haven't scared you too much." He cast a sideways glance at the two vampires, pulling her a little closer to him. "They can get a bit intense, don't you think?" His voice was hushed like they were telling secrets.

"Oh, thank god I'm not the only one who thinks so," she whispered.

His smile was broad under all that hair, but maybe it had to be to be seen. He patted her arm while still holding her hand. "I am so looking forward to getting to know you." Giving her hand a little squeeze, he jabbed his head at Wolf and Calisto who were watching the exchange intently. He lifted his eyebrows as if to say _"_ Get a load of these guys." She bit her lip to keep from laughing, and Wolf winked at her. Calisto chuckled and touched her arm.

"It's time for the ritual of awakening. The others are preparing at the shrine," he said.

Loti's smile wavered.

"Take it down a notch, Nosferatu. You're freaking her out." Guided draped an arm around Calisto's shoulders, patting him on the chest. "It's a simple ceremony." To Loti, he said, "Don't worry. We won't sacrifice any lambs at the altar." He grabbed Calisto's face in both hands and smooched him on the lips.

"Not today, anyway." Calisto waggled his eyebrows as he shoved the big guy away.

Guided's laugh boomed over the sweet singing and soft guitar, and he cringed like a cartoon character, turning and slinking off into the trees. Loti laughed at him tiptoeing in heavy hiking books.

As they followed his antics, Loti asked Calisto, "What is this ceremony going to accomplish?"

"It's about figuring out what you are, for one," Calisto spoke in a low voice.

"These guys seem to think you're something special." Guided was careful to keep his voice soft as he waited for them just inside the trees. "And I don't doubt them."

"Special? Like what? This nunne'hi thing?" She chewed the side of her fingernail.

"I don't know what nonsense they've been spouting, but yes, like nunne'hi. But nunne'hi is just one term. We call your kind Light Walkers." Guided fell into step beside her and Wolf as Calisto took the lead. "I know weekenders sometimes refer to us as light walkers, but in our vernacular a Light Walker is said with a capital L and a capital W."

"Weekenders?"

"Civilians. You know, people who wander into the woods on the weekend?" Guided waved a hand at the trees.

"He means average people, Loti. The tribes live in the woods year-round, so they've come to think of everyday people as weekenders." Wolf squeezed her hand.

"Oh, I get it. Because you only see them on the weekends when they go hiking or camping."

Guided trilled like a squirrel, startling Loti. "You got it." He squeezed her shoulder and let go as he stepped ahead of them, the path too narrow to walk three abreast.

"Let's give you a chance to fulfill your life's purpose." Guided called over his shoulder.

Loti blanched. "I have no idea what my life's purpose is."

"Then you need to find out," Wolf said, rubbing a reassuring thumb across hers.

She stared up at him, wanting to say something, something level headed and wise. "Okay." _Duh._

Something heavy turned inside her—slow, deep, vast. With a silent click, it settled into place. Afraid of dislodging it, she attempted to hold her mind still, but it twitched with the urge to grasp at the solidness. She kept her eyes on the pine needles carpeting the forest floor as they hiked on. Glancing up for a moment, she grabbed at the sensation, stumbled, and Wolf's ever-present hand caught her. She felt for the thing—it was still there, unmoved. The path spilled them into a small clearing, and Guided took the opportunity to drop back beside her.

"Loti, your first step on this journey is to create inner justice and relieve your own pain." His tone had changed, still gentle, but more serious.

"Will this ceremony do that?"

"No. I think that's already happening." He nodded at Wolf. "Believe it or not, I think the big guy can help." Guided grinned over her head at Wolf, whose face hardened once again.

She stifled a sigh.

"The ceremony will provide us with some answers, but you're going to need to do the rest."

Loti looked from Guided's reassuring smile to Wolf's broody frown and took a shaky breath. The path slinked back into the dark woods, switching back and forth down the steep mountainside. A pink glow spread between the dark trees. _Yes, definitely, pink_. As the forest thinned at the bottom of the descent, a full, roundish orb rose from the river basin; its pointed petals reached for the black sky. It was a very big, pink lotus flower.

"That's the Shrine," Wolf told her.

As they left the trees to walk across the river basin, a large, pale-pink archway greeted them. Four arches guarded the entrance to a muted garden. A long line of water fountains gurgled into a rectangular pool that led to the shrine, slate paths on either side. The flower was an actual building. It glowed from within without any artificial means of light.

Wolf tugged her hand. "Come on."

She hadn't realized she'd stopped walking. _How could I have studied here for three months and never knew this was here? I walked all the trails, went to all the shrines, and performed all the pujas._

"Calisto. Namaste." A man appeared out of the shadows of the archway, prayer hands at his heart center, bowing. A door stood ajar just behind him, light spilling out.

"Namaste, Chanpreet. We have a possible healer Guided would like to test." Calisto waved Loti and Wolf forward.

"Guided?" The man's frown eased a bit. Guided brushed past Calisto and greeted Chanpreet with his signature shoulder slap and hand shake.

"Namaste, Chanpreet. This is Loti Dupree." He waved Loti closer, but she stepped back into Wolf, forcing a smile.

Chanpreet the gate keeper nodded. "This was not arranged through the appropriate channels, Calisto." He peered over Guided's shoulder at a gracious Calisto, who lifted helpless palms to the sky.

"It's hard to know what the proper channels are these days," Calisto said with strained patience.

Loti blinked at the tone of Calisto's voice. Wolf curled a protective arm around her.

"Now, brothers." Guided sank his hands down through the air in a Thai chi move. "Chanpreet, no, we didn't have time to talk to the council, but time is a factor, from what I'm told, and we've only just learned of Loti's potential."

The short, bald man sighed, his shoulders tightening. "When the others showed up, I called Gurudev. He said Wolf contacted him last evening." He nodded at Wolf, who nodded back. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Do you know what kind of position you've put me in?" He threw his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh.

"We're very sorry, but we are pressed for time." Calisto clasped his hands in front of his chest. "The tribe arrived a couple hours ago. And I respect your duties—this is not ideal, but it is necessary."

"She's vulnerable, Chanpreet." Wolf flexed his jaw. "Someone marked her and attacked her—to what end, we're not sure. Death magic was used."

Chanpreet's eyes widened, and after a long silence he nodded. His shoulders relaxed, and he let his hands fall to his side. "I wish you would learn to make a phone call once in a while, Calisto. You know those jangly machines? Those are phones." His eyebrows arched. "Margarite could have addressed the council during the day and we wouldn't have this. . .breach of procedure." Chanpreet's words were tired.

"If Dayalananda weren't bedridden, I wouldn't have to ask for permission." Calisto said in an unembellished tone.

Chanpreet drew his lips into a tight line. "We're all doing the best we can."

"Gentleman," Guided drawled, laying a hand on each man's shoulder. "We're all worried about Gurudev." Turning to Calisto, "But, we've got to get a move on." Calisto lowered his eyes. Loti found it difficult to determine Calisto's mood. He was so controlled.

"Thank you brother, Chanpreet. We will discuss these matters at our next council." Guided bowed, prayer hands at his chest.

Chanpreet bowed back, eyeing Loti as he stepped into the doorway. When the door closed, Loti relaxed her jaw as she followed Guided down the path to the shrine. "What was that all about?" she whispered to Wolf.

"The ashram is experiencing difficulties since Sri Swami Dayalananda has taken a turn for the worse."

"Is he sick?" she asked, picturing the kind visage of the guru. She'd last seen him at the graduation ceremony. He'd smeared talik on her forehead

"He's not sick, but he's old and tired. His body is wearing out. He's over one hundred years old, and I think he will take mahasamadhi soon." He shrugged, but not in indifference. It was more like he was trying to shake something off.

"Maha-what?"

"Consciously leaving one's body."

"You mean death?"

"No, it's not the same for an enlightened person. It's a conscious choice. Dayalananda is approaching his time, and he will go on when he is ready."

Loti wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure I believe in 'enlightenment'. What does it mean really? Sitting around on a mountain top, perpetually high on some pretentious construct of a god and staring at nothingness?"

Wolf snorted and the rigid lines in his face melted away in a surprised smile. "Enlightenment is not achieved by isolating oneself."

"Is that what Gurudev says?" she guessed.

"To me," he muttered, and to Loti's regret a little hardness returned to his eyes.

She changed tactics. "Sooo, Calisto doesn't like the new ashram politics?

Wolf huffed out his nose. "No, not all. But it's more than that. There are different opinions about the purpose of the ashram these days. Some want to keep Dayalananda's vision true, like Calisto, while others want to take the ashram in different directions."

As they approached the shimmering shrine, Loti became more and more entranced by the luminescent pink against the black mountains and night sky. The James River whispered behind it in the flood plain as a cold wind swept through the sleeping garden. The stars winked out one by one east to west. The air smelled and felt damp.

"Let's get inside," Guided called as he held open a glass door.

A ring of pink faces floated in a murky, round room. They bobbed toward her, and she realized they were people.

"Hi, I'm Mitch." A young woman held out an armful of dark cloth.

Loti looked to Wolf; she was doing that a lot. Couldn't she make decisions for herself anymore? She felt like a wooden Pinocchio, waiting for a dark fairy to bring her to life. For reasons she couldn't fathom, Wolf felt like an old friend. And more. He was taking the robes from Mitch when Loti reached out and snatched them up.

"Hi, Mitch. I'm Loti," she said as she stepped up.

Wolf raised one eyebrow.

"You can change in the restroom." Mitch lifted the corners of her brown robe and curtseyed. "Attractive, no?" She giggled.

Loti glanced back at Wolf as Mitch led her away, but he was gone. Her throat tightened as she entered a dimly lit foyer with bathroom doors marked "Men" and "Women". The surreal mix of banal and sacred was almost funny to her, but even the spiritually devoted needed to use a bathroom. She stepped up to the Women's room with a little curl to the corner of her mouth, but stopped short as she came abreast with another tribesman. _Other_ popped in her mind. His eyes held their own light, but that could have been the reflection of the exit sign or the low pink glow that imbued the room. She kneaded the alien sensation like it was bread dough until it formed a thought. "Are you part fae?" she burst out, then wanted to smack herself.

He blinked, stepping away. Without warning, Wolf's hand was on her shoulder. He'd appeared out of nowhere.

"How did you know that?" The man wrinkled his nose.

"I'm not sure." Loti clutched the robe. "I didn't mean to offend you. Sometimes I speak before I think."

"It's okay, Loti," Wolf said as Guided appeared beside him. She wondered where they'd come from and then a beaming Calisto joined them.

"We have something here, Wolf. She is definitely—" Calisto started.

"I'm right here. Don't talk about me like I'm a prize poodle," Loti snapped.

Mitch stepped in, guiding her away from the men. "Let her change, will ya?"

"I apologize, Ms. Dupree." Calisto bowed, grinning joyfully the whole time.

"Don't take him too seriously, Loti," Mitch said. "He's over 2,000 years old—a Roman citizen at one time, and he still hasn't gotten over it."

Nerves clattering and spine buzzing, Loti hesitated with a hand on the bathroom door. "2,000 years old?"

"Over. Apparently, he met Jesus." With a shiny smile, Mitch winked.

"Jesus Christ?" Loti's eyebrows arched. "Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?"

Mitch chuckled. "Well, so he says."

"You don't believe him?"

"Oh, I believe him." Mitch shooed her into the bathroom. "You'll have to ask him about it sometime—when you have a few decades to kill." She laughed as Loti scrunched her brow. "Go get changed. We can talk after."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Changed and back in the round room with a growing crowd, Loti fingered the long brown robe. She cinched the belt a little tighter and smoothed the front down. _Fleece_. She expected something hand woven and scratchy. Small clusters formed of two and three people, around a large pedestal in the middle of the room. A ring of white quartz statues held hands around a pink quartz sphere. She moved closer until she could make out that each statue had different features—African, Asian, pointed ears. _Oh_. There were different species too: fae, vampire, and others she couldn't quite figure out. One had the face of a snake with a small round thing imbedded in its forehead. _What the heck?_

"I'm not going to say something stupid like 'don't be nervous' because I don't know exactly what's going to happen." Guided spoke into her ear. "But, really, everything will be fine. You've already had one impromptu test and passed with flying colors."

"The part-fae guy? That was a test?" Not looking up, she studied the intricate details of the quartz carving.

"Well." He smiled sheepishly. "It wasn't on purpose. I think Calisto's right about you."

Her stomach churned and her spine buzzed harder. She tore her eyes away from the carvings to see Guided nodding over the crowd at someone. Wolf was suddenly beside her, taking her hand. She squeezed his fingers as the jangles subsided, then grinned as he pulled and tucked at his own robe.

"It's a simple test, Loti." Wolf grimaced as he cinched the belt.

"Then why all the pomp and circumstance? The robe? The ritual?" Her temples throbbed and she rolled her jaw. "How 'bout asking me a few questions and be done with it?"

Wolf smiled in commiseration. "They like their ways."

"Let's head upstairs. They're ready for us." Guided put a hand on Loti's elbow.

The small crowd meandered to the spiral staircase. Loti accepted a cushion from one of the two people who stood on either side of the stairs handing them out. Wolf stayed close behind her in the enclosed stairway, his hand resting on the small of her back. It would have been jet black if it weren't for the small lights on the steps. When she stepped out into another small foyer, she breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the claustrophobic space. A sheesham wood archway graced the entrance to the shrine, a pink glow oozing through the intricate carvings.

As she passed under it into the shrine, a large, glowing ball of pink pulsed. Every hair on her body stood up. The orb hovered above an altar of water with real lotus flowers on the surface. Wooden altars stood at regular intervals all around the perimeter of the room with indecipherable writing and familiar symbols embossed on them. The air in the room smelled clean and snapped like a thunderstorm had just passed through.

"Come, sit here." Guided led them to the center of the shrine and pointed to the floor in front of the light. As Loti walked closer, chills frothed up her spine. She and Wolf sat on their cushions while twenty or so tribesmen formed a semi-circle around them. She twisted around looking for Calisto and Margarite, who smiled and waved when she caught their eye. All of their nest mates were there except Fiamette. Loti didn't know if that was good or bad.

"We've brought Loti to the shrine to determine if she is one of us." Guided addressed the group from the bottom step leading up to the glowing orb. Loti clasped her hands in her lap, nervous apprehension twiddling her thumbs. Wolf's hand rested on her knee.

"I don't think there's any doubt about that, Guided," someone piped up.

She twisted back around to see who it was and the part-fae guy smiled at her, holding the hand of a pretty brunette woman. Loti studied her for a moment. _Human. Definitely human_.

"Yes, Hammer, I think we already know she's a healer," Calisto said from the back of the room. A healer? _No, no way I'm a healer._ Loti cleared her throat and twirled her hair. A healer would have been able to do something about David's cancer. Or save Calla.

Guided nodded and said, "Yes, we've seen a little evidence, but the rest of the tribe hasn't, Calisto. That's one reason we're here. The other is to determine if there's more to this story."

"Get on with it, Guided. It's not like you to be so formal." Someone jested and the room broke out in good-humored laughter.

He smiled, waving his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. So sue me for having a little fun." Pressing his hands together in front of his heart, he bowed his head. The laughter morphed into guffaws and howls. Guided opened one eye and peeked up at the crowd. "But I think we're about to witness something very unique."

The crowd quieted so fast, Loti spun around to see what happened.

"Loti? Will you stand with me?" Guided held out his hand to her, and for what seemed like the millionth time, Loti glanced at Wolf. What did she want from him? To make her talk and sing and dance and turn her into a real girl? Annoyed with herself, she jumped up and seized Guided's hand.
Chapter 13

"Loti, who is what in this room?" he asked.

She turned to the little crowd, took a deep breath, and drank them all in. "Do you want me to say it out loud or just to you or. . ?" Her voice faded away. She didn't want to out anyone.

"We all know each other. It's okay to say it." Guided patted her arm. "And if you're hiding anything," he addressed the crowd with a smirk, "you're about to be called to task."

She was a little surprised to find that half of the healers were not all human. Squaring her jaw, she tried to ignore the crazy buzzing in her spine as she walked over to Hammer and his girl. Softening her focus, she allowed the feeling to guide her thoughts.

"This one is human, but half fae," she said about Hammer, and he nodded gamely. Turning to the sweet-faced woman—"Human." The woman nodded, a false seriousness crinkling her nose as she played along with the game.

"He's part fae, but not half, maybe third generation removed," She smiled at the older man next to her, who smiled up through a dense, black beard and mustache. Did none of them shave?

"She's human." She gestured at Mitch who stuck out her tongue.

"Ha," someone called out. He was followed by spurts of laughter and little humphs around the room. Their good-humored attitude and impish nature, especially during what might be considered a serious occasion, won Loti over. The buzzing softened as she relaxed into what she was doing. She identified a shapeshifter, another part-fae, and then stumbled on one she couldn't identify at first. She knelt in front of the curly-haired woman, studying her freckled face, but Loti's eyes were never what told her. She relaxed and stopped trying to see it, stopped trying to name it. An odd thought occurred to her.

"I keep thinking 'deva' but that must be wrong, it's just out of—"

"Devata." The woman interrupted her with a touch to Loti's hand, grinning. "You're right, you've just never heard of us, so the word made no sense."

"We'll save the explanations for another time—" Guided started.

"You're a protective element. Your kind believe you are here to keep balance—to protect the balance of the universe." Loti's eyes flicked back into her head, her eyelids fluttering and the woman yanked her hand away.

Loti's spine vibrated harder. "I'm okay, Wolf," Loti called out, holding up her palm behind her. He was halfway across the room, but stopped at her voice. Inhaling through her nose, the light in the room dimmed and the crowd murmured. She exhaled, and the light in the room brightened. But it was the clean light in her blue eyes that caused the group to "Oooooo." Every eye followed her, their bodies tense with excitement as she greeted Calisto's nest.

"You're shocking them," Margarite whispered in her ear as she hugged her. "They thought Calisto was overreacting. He has that tendency." Calisto kissed her cheek and the others murmured encouragement and kudos as if they were a team. She felt like she was floating on her way back to Guided. Wolf stood where he'd stopped, waiting for a signal from her. His mouth loosened at the stars shimmering in her eyes—like a twilight sky full of midnight stars. A puff of moist breath drifted up her back between her shoulder blades to the nape of her neck. Her own breath caught in her throat, and she resisted every instinct in her body to go to him.

"There's magic in this room, Guided. Something powerful, isn't there?" she whispered as she approached him.

He nodded at the glowing ball of light. "Gurudev recognized this place for what it was and built the ashram here because of it. If you are who we think you are, this place will reveal your true nature. Come here." He pointed to the black marble steps in front of the altar, and she took each step with a deliberate, careful caution.

"This light is the light of Life. There are several places on Earth like this—intersections of the channels of energy that flow through the world. Only a few are the intersections of all pathways, _all_ channels of energy. This is one of them. It's like a seam, a gateway, and a guide. To touch it is to touch the entire universe."

Without further hoo-hah, Guided leaned over the water and sank his hand into the light. It flowed down his arm, filling him up to his eyes and down to his toes, straining at his skin. It flowed into the air above his head and down into the floor beneath his feet. With a gasp, Loti recognized what she was seeing—his prana. Chakras. The seven vortices of energy of different colors that spun at different points in his body. Meridians. The intricate pathways of energy flowed through his body, tiny points of bright light flashed where they intersected. He presented his hand to her.

"Hold my hand, and as I touch God, you will, too." His voice wasn't his anymore.

She hesitated. But this was what she was here for, right? Single-minded, she grasped his hand, and with an audible boom, her body exploded into light and sound. Hot, molten glass burned through her, and she screamed as the room filled with a ringing, like a Tibetan singing bowl. Wolf was beside her in an instant, but before he could pry her hand from Guided's, Calisto stopped him. The moment he touched her, however, the pain dulled, and Wolf detonated into light and sound.

"Just hold on to her. Trust." The words echoed as if down a long corridor, and Loti yelled as another surge flowed through her like lava. Wolf wrapped his arms around her from behind, and another explosion ripped through the room. The tribe scrambled back, but didn't run away. They stood and squinted at the bright light, waiting, mesmerized, trembling with their excitement. Guided kept an iron grip on Loti's hand while his other sank deeper, the heat and light feeding on itself like a small sun with Loti and Wolf and Guided at the center.

I can't do this.

Yes, you can.

Wolf?

Yes.

Then it went supernova, exploding in silence outward and engulfing the entire shrine, the ashram, and more. Immediately it shrank back into its center with a little pfft, like a candle flame being snuffed out. The pain dissipated. Loti and Wolf's bodies purred, warm and right. In the darkness, their souls were still for a split second, then light surged from a pinprick to the original size of the orb. It shot straight up to the pinnacle of the shrine where it split into several lines down the walls to touch each altar around the room. The altars glowed with symbols and words in different languages. To her utter amazement, she could read them all.

Following the Light, the sage takes care of all.

In the effulgent lotus of the heart dwells Brahman, the Light of Lights.

God, being Truth, is the one Light of all.

On the last one, Wolf's voice in her head read along with her:

Truth is One, paths are many.

"Holy shit," someone yelled, breaking the divine silence. The whole room roared with cheers and laughter.

"I'll never doubt you again, old man." Peacemaker the flute player pounded Calisto on the back with one arm and hugged him with the other.

"Are you kidding me? I never thought I'd live to see this." Hammer lifted and spun the pretty brunette.

Buoyant in a sea of peace, all pain gone, Loti felt a rolling warmth fill her throat and make her want to sing. It filled her head and made everything clear. It flooded her heart and made love the only real thing in the world. It filled her pelvis and made her want things she hadn't had in a long time. It filled her legs and arms and made her strong, grounded. And she wasn't alone in any of these thoughts or feelings.

Why?

Because.

That's not an answer, Wolf.

It's all I've got.

The tribe surrounded them, pulling Guided away from the light, who was letting go of Loti's hand. When his grip released, Wolf was gone from her soul, but still holding her. Although she couldn't feel him inside of her anymore, she had a new sense of his presence—like she could feel him there without touching. But the place inside her, where he had been so briefly, was cold now.

"Wolf?" Shameless tears streamed down her face as she spun around. "Where are you? What's happening?" She sobbed.

Bloody tracks ran down his face. "I'm here. Guided had to let go or it would have taken him. We couldn't stay like that forever." His voice was strangled.

"But. . ." But what?

He buried his head in her hair, and she pressed her face into his chest, fisting his robe in both hands. The gathering tribe and Calisto's nest wrapped their arms around the pair until they were all together in one big pile. No one noticed the others gathering at the archway. One by one, they entered the room, gawking at the glowing shrines. When Guided withdrew his hand from the orb and let go of Loti, the light hadn't gone away.
Chapter 14

They gathered at the Travelers' winter campsite, which looked more like a small village. Their unlit, little cabins were strung along a large circular pathway amidst a few empty, three-sided shelters. At the central campfire, Loti sank into Wolf's side, grateful it was all over. Wolf pressed his cheek to her hair. Snippets of conversation swirled around them.

"Never seen the shrine light up like that"

"Did you feel it?"

"What was that?"  
"Wish we could bottle it."

Soft laughter and shuffling feet blended with the murmuring voices and the popping fire. According to the folks who showed up afterward, the explosion of light spread across the entire ashram. Tribe members who stayed behind at the campsite were describing what they'd seen in eager voices.

"I've heard of one other light walker, but she was gone before I became vampire. She was remembered well. There hasn't been any like her since." Calisto's voice rose above the gentle cacophony.

All voices stilled and bodies turned expectantly.

"According to the stories, she was extraordinary. She healed in new ways and taught the other healers some of it. She was bonded with a vampire named Acacius." His eyes were bright and wistful as Calisto regarded Loti who was still nestled against Wolf. "The story tellers said she had the power to heal hearts and minds, as well as bodies. How much of that is real and how much is legend . . . " He shrugged his shoulders.

"All healing starts with the heart," Margarite said, snugging a knit beret over her ears.

"What happened to them?" Loti asked. "What was her name?"

"Her name was Jyotika," Margarite said.

Mitch handed Loti an insulated mug that she took with a smile of thanks. "So, what happened to Jyotika and Acacius?"

Calisto stared at the fire and the others shifted. "They died, of course. Even the undead can't live forever, can we?" Calisto's voice was far away, and Margarite placed a gentle hand on his arm. "They had enemies who mistook their healing potential as a threat. My maker told me they were separated, and Acacius was forced to meet the sun."

Loti's heart jumped in her chest, and Wolf's arm tightened around her.

"Jyotika died of grief and loneliness," Margarite finished, a wisp of melancholy in her voice. "Once a healer bonds with her mate, she won't outlive him."

"Is that true of all bond mates?" Loti bit her lip. "Even if a regular human bonds with a vampire?"

"No, just healers—maybe witches?" Margarite glanced around the fire ring for confirmation.

"It depends." Korinna looked over at Justin.

"I think it has to do with how powerful the two are, and how long they've been bonded," Justin added.

"Do all healers bond with a mate?" Loti sat up, curiosity and worry itching at her.

Margarite slid her arm around Calisto's waist, who closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to her cheek. Margarite smiled at his curly head. "No. It's a choice. Sometimes there are benefits; a vampire's magic can enhance the healer's abilities and extend her life span."

"How?" Loti sat up straighter, the photograph on the stairs on her mind.

"Well that's the million dollar question." Calisto chuckled. "If we knew that, think what miracles we might be able to work." The brightness was back in his wide open eyes, and his mouth was taut with eagerness.

"I've told you, Calisto, its simple physics. Vamps are like antennae and healers are transceivers—able to receive the energy vampires draw in and transmit it." A goateed tribesman joined the conversation, rocking forward in his camp chair.

"The Professor thinks he's got magic all figured out." The black-bearded tribesman, Sensei, who Loti identified as part fae tossed a stick into the fire.

"Hey, why complicate things? We know how radio waves work. And everything is an emitter—absolutely everything. The intelligence community has huge databases cataloguing everything's signature from a 1992 Jeep Grand Cherokee to a GM toaster with a blown element." He wiped his forehead with a well-worn bandana. "We know each person has their own unique energy signature. So it's the next logical conclusion."

"Prof used to work for the Department of Defense in signaling intelligence." The lady next to him patted his knee.

"Actually, I dabbled in electronic warfare, of which _signal_ intelligence was a part," the Professor patted Peacepipe's knee.

Chuckling, she tugged on his goatee. "Yes, dear."

"Moooommmm!" A young boy's voice bleated from a ways off.

"Duty calls." She rolled her eyes. "I'm Peacepipe, by the way." She shook Loti's hand, a smile on her face as she squeezed by. She pecked Wolf's check, and he patted her arm. "What now?" she yelled as she jogged off.

"And the designs of antennae are like magic; have you seen some of the weirder ones? Sometimes there's no rational reason why one works and the other doesn't." Prof settled back into his chair.

Yawning, Loti curled her gloved hands around her mug, her eyelids too heavy to keep up.

"The sun will be up soon." Wolf yawned. "We need to finish this."

Guided slapped his hands against his thighs. "Time for the vision quest."

Loti sloshed hot tea in her lap. Drawing air through her teeth with a loud hiss, she wiped at it with her black fleece gloves. "A what?" She dusted her hands over the fire.

"You'll need to do this alone." Guided looked at Wolf, who's eyelids drooped at half-mast. "There's a path we'll take you to after the vamps settle down for the day. You'll take nothing but the clothes on your back. That's the Traveler tradition. All of us have taken this journey, so even though you'll feel alone, you won't be in spirit. We'll all be with you, including Wolf."

Loti felt like she was floating above, looking down on the conversation. Had she really been in the car with Rachel on her way here less than 24 hours ago? Was she ready to walk out into the mountains with nothing? No water, no food, no compass.

"All healers do this?" she stalled.

Mitch leaned forward, elbows on her knees, steaming mug in her hands. "No, not all, but we do. It's necessary to wake up to your dharma." She sipped.

"To your life's work?" Loti rubbed the back of her neck that suddenly prickled.

"Mmm hmm." Mitch held the mug between her hands and nodded, her face pensive. "Do you know why we live out here? Why we worked so hard to keep the trail system from being sold off?"

"A little, I think. It has to do with being close to nature. Night Eyes taught me that a healer's magic works better when the healer is pure, unadulterated by modern life."

"Something like that, but don't think of it as segregating ourselves. It's the opposite. It's about staying connected to the Mother, to life." Mitch took another timid sip.

Guided leaned back in his camp chair and pulled on one of the straps, tightening it. "And the trail system is protected now, so there will hopefully always be wild places without power lines and hotels."

Calisto clasped his hands. "Not that those things are bad, per se. They interfere. The signal gets disrupted. Healing is vibrational—"

"Everything's vibrational, that was my point," Professor interjected.

Calisto nodded respectfully. "Yes, of course."

"I brought that up," Mitch spoke, "because our life work, our dharma, is about how we live and who we live with, as well as what we do. Some folks define themselves by what they do, but that's only a fraction of who we are." She gestured widely around her. "This is as much who we are as anything we do."

They lapsed into silence. Wolf shifted so Loti adjusted in the double wide camp chair they shared, like a folding, nylon loveseat.

"White rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits," Loti muttered as she waved away the stinging smoke from her eyes. The crowd chuckled at Loti's invocation of the old smoke charmer. "So to wake up I have to go out in the woods alone with no pack?" Loti coughed, rubbing the back of her neck; Wolf mirrored her movements.

"Just the clothes on your back, and you'd better wear a neoprene hat." Guided glanced up at the black sky devoid of stars. "Waterproof is good."

"Those fleece gloves will be drenched in minutes. I'll get you some Gortex mittens you can wear over them." Mitch set her travel mug in the net cup holder on the arm of her camp chair, standing and stretching tall. "Be right back."

"You'll have to trust yourself, and listen to your instincts," Hammer added from the opposite side of the fire.

"Do you remember what the black man said in your dream about the secret of the universe?" Wolf's voice was thick with doze.

"Yes. Know yourself, be yourself, and . . .trust yourself."

Wolf nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open. The stinging at the back of Loti's neck spread to her throat and face and she scratched at it. So did Wolf.

"I'll never be very far from you, if something should happen. I'll meet you in four days if you haven't returned. No matter what." He was almost talking in his sleep.

"How will you know where to find me? I don't even know where I'll be." She looked at Guided. "Do you?"

"No and yes. We won't know where you'll be exactly, but we're pretty sure you'll end up in the general vicinity. I doubt you'll walk to Maine or anything." Guided winked.

"I think I could find you, now." Wolf covered a painful-looking yawn with one hand. Loti understood—she felt it, too. It was like a pull in her chest that would take her wherever he went.

"But these men need to go to ground before the sun comes up." Guided stood and stretched into a slight backbend.

Calisto and Wolf labored to their feet, Margarite and Loti with them. Margarite kissed Calisto, and then he moved so fast he disappeared. Wolf dragged Loti into the privacy of the trees where he pulled her into his arms.

"I know this is strange for you," he breathed the words onto her cheek.

"It's not for you?" she whispered back.

"Yes, but I'm used to strange." His mouth slid just below and behind her ear. "And I've been searching for you." His lips touched the soft spot behind her earlobe.

She sighed. "Searching for me? How do you know I'm the one you've been searching for?"

He pulled away and the electric shock shook her spine. He kissed lower on her neck, and when his mouth touched, the buzz blurred. Sliding his lips side to side under her ear, he held her, quieting the alarms going off in her head. Things deep inside of her went soft.

"I'm pretty sure," he mumbled.

Swallowing as his lips caressed her neck up to her ear then down to her shoulder, she slipped her arms under his; his arms enveloped her. The calming energy balled up in her lower abdomen.

"I'd given up. I thought it was folklore." He found her jaw line. "Nunne'hi," he whispered, his mouth sliding down to her chin. Her bottom lip trembled as his lips pressed over hers, gentle, questioning. She kissed him back and his kiss turned fierce and probing. She froze. Her mouth wanted to open to his while her head screamed to stop. Her body jerked and she shoved him away.

The pain in his expression stabbed her to the quick, but he turned away before she could be sure. He was gone from her side. She felt abandoned, cold, and sick. Her dead husband's face floated in front of her. _Oh, David_. Was it the magic that prickled through her or guilt that she wanted him? Her belly clenched.

"I'm sorry, Wolf."

His back to her, he stared at the cloudy pre-dawn sky, hands in his pockets. "No," he said. "I'm the one who should be sorry. Rachel told me about your husband."

Tears ran hot down her face, and she couldn't think of what to say. It's not that? Of course it was that, but he didn't know the whole story, or her for that matter. She covered her face with her hands. She'd fought the tears so hard and for so long that there were too many, and she was going to drown in them. She wanted him to kiss her, hold her, and make the ache go away. Angry at her blinding tears, she shuddered alone, and then arms were around her extracting a moan from deep in her chest.

"A river of tears." His voice reached inside her chest, while his hand stroked her hair.

Unable to speak, Loti shook her head, but he gripped her tighter. She lifted her face, wiping at her eyes. With wet fingers she touched his lips like a blind person, searching. She kissed him, a long, lingering kiss, and when he pulled way, she pressed one hand to her chest and wrapped the other arm around her waist. The stinging was all over now.

~~~~~~~~~~~

She gazed into the bare branches of an enormous, old oak, digging bare fingers into the ragged bark. A few of last year's leaves shivered on the limbs. Loti traced the pattern of the black tree against the gray sky and looked over her shoulder at Margarite and Mitch. She wanted to run back to Calisto's house to find Wolf, but he was asleep. She could tell because the stinging had abated. Margarite said it was normal for a bonded pair to share certain feelings, but she had no idea how they could be bonding without blood exchange. The only way back to him was down this path. Did she want to go back to him? Without the buzzing in her spine, she thought maybe they should stay away from each other. _Wouldn't that be better for both of us?_ She rubbed her hand against her coat, staring at the gray clouds masking the sun rise.

"You both have done this?" Her voice trembled.

"Yes," Margarite said.

Loti nodded, still staring at the sky. "And how do I know when to stop walking?"

"You'll know," Mitch said, her arms hugging herself.

"When this is done, I want a long, hot bath." The three women grinned at each other.

As she stepped onto the trail, she wondered why in the hell she was doing this. It wasn't much of a trail, barely discernible from the forest debris, but she placed one complicit boot in front of the other as if she wasn't sure of the footing. She had a deep compulsion to cry, but moved out of its way. The urge died down without her participation, leaving her confused as she waded through a gelatinous doubt. Trust herself? How?
Chapter 15

Loti blinked. _Where am I?_ She turned in circles, bare trees and more bare trees as far as she could see. She looked for the path, and, yes, for what it was worth, she was still on it. She could only guess that the sun was past the meridian as the day stretched out under congested clouds. She cleared her throat and licked parched lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun set, Loti shivered in the dark. Unsteady, she fought the urge to sit down. _Why didn't this trail cross a stream?_ She had to get there. _Put one foot in front of the other_. An old Christmas song played in her head. _What is it? Something about Santa Claus and a winter warlock?_ She stumbled and fell.

Her knee landed on a sharp rock. "Ow. Damn it."

You'll never get where you're going...

Loti's head snapped up.

If you don't stand up.

She huddled on the forest floor, curled in a ball like an unborn child, twigs poking, pine needles sticking her, and an ache in her side. When she clenched both hands into stiff fists, they hurt. _Good_. It wasn't freezing out, but it was close. She looked through a lattice work of bare branches at the black sky. Why had the trail never crossed a road or brought her anywhere? _Where am I going?_ No one told her where to go or how to know when she got there.

Put one foot in front of the other.

She heard music, faint and fast.

Do you want to change your direction?

She pushed the cold ground away.

Your time of life is at hand.

"Put one foot in front of the other," she mumbled.

How can you get where you're going

She grabbed a sapling for support. "If you never get up on your feet." Her voice now subdued.

Trumpets blasted in her head as the wind picked up, rattling the old leaves.

"Come on, there's a good tail wind a-blowing," she sang, louder now, throwing one hand to the sky. Looking for a trail through the maze of tree trunks and mountain laurel, Loti laughed, starting a coughing fit. The first raindrop hit her in the eye. Cold and rain. _Hypothermia, anyone?_ She giggled. Keep _moving. You have to keep moving._

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf knocked on the decorative glass door. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shifted onto his heels. The door opened, and he stilled himself as Katie Brown frowned.

"What took you so long to come see me?" Her light blues twinkled, and she threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her close, trying not to clear his throat as he drew away. Instead, he adjusted the sleeves of his leather jacket.

"Wolf." Katie held the door open. He hesitated, scowling at Katie's smirk. She touched a hand to her cheek, forming an "O" with her lips. "I forgot. I rescinded your invitation last time you were here, didn't I?"

Katie waited with her hands clasped in front of her, a patient smile on her face. Wolf settled into his feet as he tucked his hands in his back pockets, adopting a bored expression. They stood that way for five minutes before Rachel came to the door. Her smile faltered as she looked from vampire to witch.

"What's going on?"

Katie cleared her throat, adjusting the diamond stud in her ear, and Wolf leaned one hand on the door sill and crossed his black boots.

Rachel threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated sigh. "Are you going to stand here all night acting like spoiled brats? I swear, you two." She pushed the door open wide. "Wolf, would you please come in?" She gestured grandly into the house with one hand.

Wolf rolled his eyes.

"You can't invite him into my house." Katie chuckled.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll go outside." Rachel brushed passed her Nan and collapsed in the white rocker. "What's the news on Loti?" She rocked.

Wolf straightened. "She's on a vision quest—"

"What?" Rachel yelled. "You sent her out into the woods alone when someone's after her? Are you nuts?"

Wolf clasped his hands behind his back, the corner of his mouth twitching once.

"What if Patrick—"

"We don't know for sure it was Patrick," Katie objected.

"I felt his energy signature, Nanny. You can't fake it."

"And you also felt death magic. That can mean . . . " Katie's voice quavered. "That can mean someone killed him and absorbed his magic. And since I can't get through to him."

Rachel dropped her head in her hands. "Either way, she's in danger. How could you let her do this?" Rachel slapped her hands on the arms of the chair, rocked harder.

"I didn't let anything, Rachel. She went willingly."

"You could've stopped her."

"Really?" He squatted down next to Rachel, holding the rocker still with one hand.

She screwed up her face and bucked in the chair to no avail.

"I've only known your friend for a few days, and even I figured out you don't make Loti Dupree do anything she doesn't want." _She may question herself to distraction, but she makes up her own mind._

"He's right, Rachel." Katie drawled from the doorway. Her southern accent only emerged when she was tired or feigning interest.

Rachel sighed, standing up, her eyes downcast as the rain pelted the porch roof. "Can we go in the house, Nan? It's cold and damp out here."

"I'm fine." Wolf maintained, rising from his squat in one fluid, boneless motion.

Rachel squeezed past her grandmother and pried the door knob out of her hand. "Please, Nan?" Her hazel eyes widened like a little girl begging for a treat.

Katie sighed, stepping out of the way, the lines on her face accentuated in the yellow porch light. She stuck a childish tongue out at Wolf. "Why do you always get your way?" She scowled.

"I don't, Katie."

She blinked in surprise at the subdued tone of his voice.

"Won't you please come in, Wolf?" she said in her best southern hospitality voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti shivered as she stumbled in the dark. It had been raining hard for hours, and the trail was a mud monster sucking at her boots. She climbed and fumbled over slick rocks and slipped down into mud traps that slurped greedily. Every now and then she splashed into a deep puddle that soaked her socks and her pants up to her knees. She'd stopped twice, thinking she would let her aching back rest, but her legs grew numb so fast it scared her. She staggered on to keep the blood pumping. Rubbing a half-numb quad, she lifted a drenched foot out of another deep puddle and heard singing.

That same song from a Christmas special clay-mation type show broke through the constant roar of the rain. A white warlock hovered in the sky above a young Kris Kringle with red hair, trapped in the branches of a monster tree. His face contorted in clay-mation horror. _But something happens_. Her teeth chattered. _The Warlock gets a train; Kris gives the Warlock a choo-choo train and it melts his frozen heart._

"Put one foot in front of the other," Loti warbled into the rain.

The trees shrank and gave way to bare rock as she slugged along, trying to outpace the gloom. The rain slowed, and she lifted her face, stiff with cold, to the blackness. She rubbed at the stinging on the back of her neck, her breath puffing in clouds as she panted from the effort. _If this keeps up, I'll freeze to death._ The woods felt mean, and shivering with the onset of hypothermia, Loti cried.

"I'm sorry, Gramom. I'm so sorry," she blubbered to the bare rocks. "I don't know why the apartment felt so scary. I don't know why." The sobs wrenched her throat and ribs. "Something was so wrong, so dark. The corners of the room were mean, and I don't know why. I didn't know why."

The salty tears mixed with snot running down her upper lip, and she wiped at it with her soggy glove. Even Gortex will give up and let the wet in if left out in the rain long enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rachel sipped hot tea at the kitchen table as Margarite placed a bowl of steaming oatmeal in front of her. Brown sugar and cinnamon melted on top. Rachel's normally flippy hair clung to her head. She'd forgotten her hat in Nan's car back at the welcome center. After Nan let Wolf in the house, they'd exchanged information about what happened at the shrine and the coven meeting. They'd seen the light from her house in Lewiston. And no one believed Patrick capable of harming Loti. Katie tried to call him and his family in Ireland for two days, but no one answered at his great uncle's home, and Patrick wasn't picking up his cell.

Wolf and Katie decided to talk to Calisto in person. Rachel sat in the back seat with her head resting against the cold glass while Wolf drove Katie's blue sedan. No one said a word. Rachel's mind filled with anxious thoughts about Loti, about her surrogate grandfather and the coven's inability to scry anything. It was like someone had erected a magical Faraday cage around their attempts. The constant hum of energy wasn't the typical background noise. Katie hoped with the help of Wolf and Calisto and the other vampires, they could augment their power. Maybe even the healers could help. The more power they could draw on, the better their chances were of breaking though the barrier.

Rachel peeked around the archway into the living room at the pair seated on the couch—the leather-clad vampire and the genteel, elderly professor in pearls and pastel. Nanny Brown was dry as a bone, having wrapped her short, graying blonde hair in a plastic rain scarf before putting her rain jacket over top.

"When will she get back?" Rachel fingered her tea mug.

"I don't know." With tired eyes, Margarite sat down across from Rachel. "Maybe four days. It's been almost 24 hours since she left." She tilted her head to look at Wolf in the living room. "It's been hard on Wolf," she said, stirring the cinnamon into her oatmeal.

"And what's up with that? How'd he get so attached in such a short time?"

Margarite swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal. "They're bonding, Rachel."

"She's been off in the woods longer than he was with her—" Rachel stopped, Margarite's words sinking in. "Did she, you know?" She narrowed her eyes.

Margarite picked up her mug, shaking her head. "No, she didn't feed him. They haven't exchanged blood."

Rachel leaned back in her chair, lifting the front two legs off the ground and craned her neck to see Nanny and Wolf. "Then how in the hell can they be bonding?"

"We don't know. Something unusual is going on, but Calisto and Dayalananda have their theories. What do you know about Light Walkers or nunne'hi?" Margarite sipped her tea.

Rachel blew out her breath as the chair legs banged into the floor. "I know they're old myths."

"And what do you know about those myths?"

Rachel bunched her forehead. "I'm not sure. I've read they were spirits who could walk on light, travel on light waves through space and time. What does that have to do with the two of them bonding without blood?"

"Have you ever wondered why he hangs out with a tribe of healers?" Margarite put her mug down and spooned more oatmeal into her mouth.

Rachel nodded. "He told me they were special, attached to the ashram. And he was interested in Calisto's theories of dharma." Rachel poked her spoon at the puddle of melted brown sugar.

"Wolf's been interested in the nunne'hi myths since before he was turned. He's been looking for them. Calisto thinks Loti is one, and what we saw the other night at the lotus shrine indicates she is something unique. They are something unique together."

Rachel stared at Margarite, not sure what she thought about what the woman had just told her. "Nunne'hi aren't real. They're the new world equivalent to leprechauns or brownies." She waved a dismissive hand over her oatmeal.

"Mmm, maybe, maybe not." Margarite flipped a hand and tilted her head. "Wolf has been looking for a purpose, Rachel, and I think he's found it. Do you know why he chose to become a vampire?"

Rachel shook her head, eyes wide. "He never told me. I didn't know he chose to be one. I thought . . . well, I guess I made an assumption."

"Well, I'll let him tell you that story. It's not my place." Margarite tucked her hands around her mug.

Rachel rubbed her face with both hands. "Ah, don't do that. Don't start something and not tell me."

Margarite shook her head. "That's for Wolf to decide if he wants to tell you. Ask him. Maybe he will."

"I haven't seen Wolf in a long time. We're still getting to know each other again. I was only 19 when he left." Rachel put her spoon down and stared back at the living room, but Wolf and Nan weren't on the couch, anymore. She stretched awkwardly but couldn't see them.

A gentle smile spread over Margarite's face. "You mustn't take his absence personally. They don't perceive the passing of time as we do."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Ten years is nothing." _But it's something to me,_ Rachel pouted. _A really big something._

Margarite tilted her head. "I think the rain has stopped."

"Thank the Goddess," Rachel muttered, grabbing her spoon and shoveling the sweet oatmeal into her mouth. The rain had stopped, but a loud gust of wind rattled the windows on the second floor. The women looked at each other in alarm.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Katie, I'm sorry." Wolf stared down at his black boots, his hands hanging between his knees.

"I know you are. You're always sorry, afterwards." Katie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the couch.

"I'm trying to make amends. The least you could do is—"

"What? Forgive you one more time? Phpptt." She rubbed a tired eye.

Wolf scowled. That was it. He'd given it his best shot. He reared up and stalked to the fireplace. _Enough already_. She did this out of spite, making him pay by dragging it out as long as possible—like she'd always done. _You'd think she'd grow up after fifty years._ Her delicate hand grabbed his wrist before he could push the trick panel.

"Wait," she half pleaded, half commanded.

He spun around, frowning. "What?" The day-sleep stinging rose up his neck, but he wasn't positive it was just the day coming on.

"I accept your apology," she said in a rush, her eyes watery.

His tense face relaxed a smidgen and he hugged her. They held onto each other for a long time, and it was Katie who broke away, stroking the buttery sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Is this the same jacket?" She wiped her eyes.

"Yes." His voice was gruff.

"You don't believe Patrick is capable of this, do you?"

"No."

She nodded, rubbing the back of her neck as she turned to the fireplace. She held her hands over the flames. "It's been so cold. I hope Loti's okay."

"Me too."

Katie snapped her head up at the apprehension in his voice. They'd known each other since she was nineteen years old, and she never heard that inflection from him, not in all the years since they'd first met.

"You're worried," she marveled.

He looked away.

"Do you love her?"

"Katie, I just met her."

"That doesn't matter if you're bonding, and you know it."

Taken aback by her ire, he shoved his hands in his pockets, locking his face down.

"She's a precious thing, Wolf, and don't you forget it. She's been through hell and back, and she's like a granddaughter to me so don't mess with her." She jabbed an aggressive index finger at him.

"I wouldn't mess with her," he grumbled, shifting his feet.

"Not on purpose, you wouldn't. You don't mean to hurt the ones you love, but you do all the same." Katie snatched the poker off its hook and stabbed the burning log several times.

"I'm sorry, Katie. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" He growled as he slapped the trick board and the wall clicked forward, sliding open. She was beside him before he could step through the threshold.

"Wolf, wait." There were more tears on her cheeks.

He ran a hand through his long hair. _Why are women always crying around me_?

" _I'm_ sorry," she choked out.

Leaning his forehead on the wood paneling, he closed his eyes. He felt her small, warm palm against his check, and he lifted his head to look at her.

"I always said it would take someone very special to break through your walls." Her smile wobbled. He covered her hand with his, lowering his eyes.

"Let her in, Wolf. Don't make the same mistakes all over again."

He inhaled through his nose as he flexed his jaw. "I'm sor—"

She cut him off with a kiss. "No more. No more apologies. We're done with that." She spoke into his mouth.

He kissed her back, briefly squeezing her hand, then guided it away from his face. They looked into each other's eyes.

"The sun's coming up," he said.

She nodded, her haunted eyes forlorn.
Chapter 16

Scooping a palm of ice cold water from the puddle she knelt in, she slurped up the rain water. The cold liquid felt fantastic on her burning throat. She hummed the old Christmas special tune off-key as she plopped onto her soaked butt, her gaze wandering over the mountain side. She'd climbed above tree line just before dawn and that puzzled her, but she couldn't remember why.

Because you're in Virginia. There's no mountain high enough in Virginia to be above tree line.

She giggled as the lyrics of an old song came to mind. Leaning back on nothingness where hands should have been, she shifted her weight to her knees, and brought her hands to her face. Where were the gloves? Oh, she tossed them last night when she'd been burning up. Her jacket was unzipped, and her Henley shirt was ripped. The faintest of trails snaked off between the low rocks and gray ground and then disappeared as if it dropped off the face of the earth. She fought to get to her feet, but couldn't make her legs support her.

"Dammit," she mumbled and crawled mudder-style toward the drop off.

Peering over the edge, dizziness blurred her vision. It took a minute, but when her sight cleared, she saw the trail descended over a scary looking tumble of boulders. She had a flash of clinging to a slick, green rock, trying to get enough purchase with her booted toe to shove herself up, slipping and grabbing at a scrubby bush. It had ripped free.

"How did I hold on?" The sun broke through the cloud cover.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The crawl from the drop off to the summit seemed painfully long, and in that time, the sun cleared the horizon. A few clouds smudged the shivery blue sky. Loti squinted at the brown and evergreen landscape spread out below. Like bits of broken glass ponds and snippets of the river glittered and ox-bowed through the forest. A razor-like ridge cut across the summit and curved down the north face of the mountain. Her head spun with the smell of crisp oxygen, the bite of cold air on the back of her throat, and the stiff ache of her arms and back. Lost in an empty and frantic mind, Loti grasped at the sensations, anything to anchor her. She wriggled her shoulders between two rocks to get out of the wind. Stiff-limbed, she sat up and tucked her numb hands under her arm pits, drawing her knees into her chest. Wiggling her toes inside soaked boots, she rocked forward and back, forward and back on her sits bones.

"If I want to change the reflection," she whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she said to the raven soaring by. Rocking. Rocking.

"Oh, Loti." Her Gramom sat down beside her, shaking her head.

Loti wept. "I didn't mean to. I didn't want," she said between gags. She collapsed on her side and wretched up the water she'd drank out of the puddle. She spit the sour bile out, and whined at the prickle on her neck.

"Wolf?"

The wind whistled through the rocks. She pushed at the ground.

"Gramom?" She craned her neck, but her grandmother was gone. She gasped for air as the corners of the mountain collapsed in on her. The hair on the back of her neck stood.

"No more!" Her voice cracked.

Something crashed into her soul like an angry ocean wave, and she screamed wordless terror into the brilliant blue sky. She sucked down the cold air and screamed again as her head struck the ground, her hands bunched under her chest. Cold granite hurt her cheekbone. She couldn't move. _I can't breathe. I can't breathe_. Darkness swirled toward her, the world winking out.

Blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The bottom of her stomach lifted into her chest as she fell into the black abyss.

_You are done._ A glowing pair of orange eyes in the blackness stared through her.

"I want to change my reflection."

No.

_No more._ That was David.

"I can't stand myself anymore. It never gets any better. It never changes."

Blackness. Utter silence.

Who can't you stand? Who are you talking about?

She slammed onto her back, bouncing softly in slow motion. When she settled, a cool breeze blew over her. She opened her eyes to the revolving ceiling fan in their bedroom; the moonlight glowed through the bare windows. She shivered at the black window glass. The bed creaked as David sat up beside her.

"Who can't you stand?" he demanded.

She rolled over on her side and touched his arm. David. _Oh, my David._ "Myself."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a coward. I've never done anything special or brave." _And I don't want to be bothered by my life too much._

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm broken," she whimpered.

"Why do you think you're broken?" David threw back the covers and turned his bare back to her, hanging his legs over his side of the bed.

"Because I don't work right. I can't make myself work right."

She reached out to touch his back, but he stood up and her hand fell to the cool, flannel sheet.

Blackness.

"You're done," she whispered.

No more

You're done.

"No more," she whispered into the dirt, cold sunlight and icy wind on the back of her neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Find something to feel grateful for.

She sat in the pew at the funeral parlor, staring at the too small, wooden box on the table surrounded by white lilies, pale peach roses, green orchids, chrysanthemums, and variegated greenery. _That's all that's left of David._ _Did they separate David from the pine box they made me buy to burn him in?_ _Is there any difference between them? If they put the ashes under a microscope, would they look different?_

Blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You're done.

David lay in bed, his salt and pepper hair gone after half a lifetime of thick unruliness. He opened his eyes and his mouth moved, but she couldn't hear him. She knew what he was saying though because she had played it over and over in her mind for months. As if they were underwater, he rolled to one side and reached for his dopp kit, but she stopped him. He fell back on the bed, limp and breathy.

"You're done."

David nodded weakly. "No more."

Eyes still on the ceiling, head still nodding. "Okay."

"Now."

Blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wet heat, hot steam spread over every inch of her bare skin. She opened her eyes to a dark, closed space lit by a faint orange glow. Trapped between sweaty bodies who were singing and chanting over a hissing sound, clouds of steam rushing over her. Sweat streamed down her bare arms and chest, down her bare backside between her bare cheeks. When the shaman threw open the flap, she was grateful for the cool air rushing in. A jug of spring water was pressed into her chest and she sipped at it. The fire outside the small, round entrance to the sweat lodge sent sparks flying as the tender dug through the coals for another rock. The fire tender passed the rock through the opening into the lodge and dropped it into the pit. The shaman tugged the cover and darkness returned. As her eyes adjusted she made out the shine of sweat on chins and cheeks and knees.

The shaman mumbled indistinguishable words as he sprinkled dried herbs on the hot rocks. Smoke lifted from the sandalwood, sage, and something else that reminded her of David. Her eyes were wide open as the lodge, with all its sensations, faded away.

Tall grasses and mountain flowers waggled in the wind as she spun in the warm scent of sunbaked fields. A huge, black wolf loped toward her, a raggedy mountain looming over him. She felt no fear or anger or sorrow or guilt or self-pity. Joy, peace, love, hope, compassion, generosity were the things that eddied in her soul. The wolf sat on its haunches beside her.

Peace weaved its way through the little spaces in her spine like a warm snake as she stroked the wolf's shaggy black fur. Staring into its deep, brown eyes—so brown they were almost black—she dropped her hand. The wolf immediately shoved his head back under her hand. She wrapped both hands around his thick snout, running them up and over his eyes as he squinted in ecstasy. He pressed his head into her hands, asking for more touch, more sensation. He lifted his nose to the air, sniffing. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as his hackles rose. Following his gaze, she saw nothing but the raven.

Blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You're done.

Weightless, she fell into a voided blackness. Her stomach flipped upside down as she fell through a cloud of ashes—David's ashes—blowing in the wind. _There's nothing I can do_.

Silence.

Stillness.

Nothingness.

Through the stillness of the nothingness a voice spoke, "Yes, there is, Loti _._ "

"I can't change anything I've done," she called out, still falling and swirling in the dark.

"No, you can't _."_

"I can't change who I am."

"Who are you?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

"You can change your direction."

"I'm falling. There's nothing I can do."

"Your time is at hand. Don't be the rule."

"Be the exception," she whispered to the nothingness.

"The way to start is to stand."

She slammed into the ground.
Chapter 17

Loti woke up to hard granite on her cheek and a wind that howled and whined between the rocks. Her body shivered in the cold mountain air. Experimenting, she wiggled her fingers and then her toes, blowing a harsh breath out her mouth at the burning pain. The sun was in the west. Grabbing the leg of a heavy, wooden sign, she heaved herself up onto unwilling legs. She clung to the large sign, flopping onto her stomach. Running clawed hands over the placard, she squinted, pulled back and tried to read the carved words. With a quiet dawning, a different world greeted her. She lay on the sign, listening to the wind, to her breath, to her beating heart, and to the sound of stillness. But the world was as it had always been, she realized. It was she who had changed. A shapeless stillness perched inside her mind, devoid of color or texture.

A breathtakingly beautiful sky teased her with hints of color. They ran and hid whenever she thought she had them. On impulse, she unfocused her eyes, sinking into that newly discovered stillness. Her breath hitched. Lines of color and a subtle, throbbing glimmer—clearer still if she peeked at it out of the corners of her eyes—pervaded everything. She looked down at the large letters carved on the sign. _Katahdin_. That couldn't be right. The only Katahdin she knew was in central Maine at the far end of the Hundred-Mile Wilderness. She twirled around, her legs buckling. She slid down the sign, looking for what she knew would be there, but still couldn't quite believe—a cairn had been built not too far from the sign, piled higher than she was tall.

"The top of that cairn is about one mile high," she said to the lights in the sky.

How could that be? She walked for a few days at most, maybe three. _Four_. It had been four days since Wolf had disappeared into the dark. The western sky blazed in a drift of shifting pinks and purples. Sharp needles bristled through her throbbing hands, and she gasped as she lifted them. She gaped at the delicate glow. Subtle patterns of light played just under the surface of the skin. Curious, she glanced around at the rocks, and they shimmered with a barely discernible web of light. Finding a little more strength than before—not much though—she pushed herself back up to standing. A black raven barrel-rolled across the kaleidoscope sunset; its throaty caw flooding her with an icy fear.

She tested her unwilling legs and caught herself, half-crawling, half-shuffling her way through the rocks. It took a long, trembling time to reach the drop off. Over the edge, the rocks turned to boulders, and her traitorous legs forced her to slide on her butt, her neck aching with the tension of holding back. As she climbed down, she thought that up had been easier, less treacherous. As she scuttled down the mountain, the gnarled, stunted trees David called krummolz, untwisted and stood up straighter. She was so focused on the placement of her hands and feet, she hardly noticed the dimming sky until all of a sudden she was surrounded by towering black trees against a solid blaze-orange. The sun had set.

"Wolf?" she rasped and something stirred inside her. She leaned against a tree, staring unseeing at the pine-needle carpet as the something slid up her back. "Wolf?" she whispered this time.

Loti

She shivered. Hopeful, she put one tentative foot in front of the other, letting go of the tree as a raven's rocking caw, caw, caw, caw sent fizzing panic up her spine. Wobbling and bobbing down the trail at a dangerous pace, she barely avoided the rocks and roots. Rocks pulsed and tree trunks undulated with life. The air and ground flowed in steamers of light that escalated as daylight faded to twilight. A dancing, sparkling waterfall stopped her short. Her mouth hung open as she reached tentative fingers out to touch the colors. Awash in fear and wonder, a dark foreboding thing that lurked in the corners snuck up on her. She stumbled forward, certain the raven cawing after her was the raven in her dogwood tree. She tripped, slamming into the ground.

"Huuff!" Something landed on her back, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She screamed as razor sharp claws tore hot pain through her side, and she jabbed her elbow back, connecting with something warm and firm. "Humpf." The weight fell off her back. She wasted no time scrambling along the pine needle path on all fours, ignoring the burning agony in her side. Not daring to look back, she staggered to her feet.

Woomph! It knocked her to the ground again. She snorted and gagged on the pine needles up her nose and in her mouth. Fiery pain took her breath as claws raked her back and hot streams of blood ran down her sides. Her stomach lurched. Slick hands spun her around to shiny eyes and wet teeth. She thrashed under his weight as he sat on her stomach, crushing her throat with his hands. The colors blurred against the dark as she flailed her arms. An intense pressure filled her head, but then it eased, everything became muffled. It was easy to fade away into the quiet darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The man-shape straddled Loti's slack form, and Wolf dove for him through the bare branches. They crashed into the ground, each creature grappling for a hold on the other. Wolf's head jerked around, and his mouth stretched unnaturally wide, fangs extended, as he clamped down on the thing's neck. Its scream devolved to a gurgle as Wolf tore open his throat, blood spraying. The thing fell to the ground, gargling his own blood as it bubbled from his mouth. Wolf jumped on his chest and seized its head with both hands. Their eyes met for a split second, just enough time for terror and recognition to register in its eyes, before Wolf wrenched its head from its body with a great, wet ripping sound. He threw it, roaring into the night. Spine and strands of tissue swung as the head sailed through the air. It hit the ground and rolled. Taking shuddery breaths, Wolf leapt to Loti's side. He pressed his ear to her chest, feeling for a pulse in her neck.

"Loti," he yelled, probing her neck. It lolled at an odd angle.

"NOO!" The inhuman bellow reverberated through the pine forest. He bit his wrist savagely, his blood spurting on Loti's face, and he cradled her head as he forced his bleeding wrist between her lips. The blood pooled in her mouth and trickled out the corner.

"Loti," he growled. "Drink. Drink." He rested her head on the ground and used his bloody hand to massage her throat. "Please, Loti. Swallow." Threads of panic in his voice, he kept massaging, resisting the urge to shake her.

"Please, Mother, spirits, please." Blobs of bloody tears oozed down his dark face. "Don't take her. This can't be your will. I just found her."

Loti spluttered and spit blood, her eyelids flitting.

Wolf pressed his lips to her ear. "Swallow, Loti. It will heal you." She swallowed and Wolf bit his healing wrist open, wedging it between her lips again. She gulped.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Cool, thick liquid in her mouth and warm breath on her ear, Loti swallowed. It had no taste at first, and then gradually became metallic, salty, fleshy, and hinted at sweetness. To her surprise, she liked it. She wanted more. She tried to lift her arms, to press the wrist harder to her mouth, but it was like she was buried in sand and couldn't move the rest of her body. Her lips parted.

"Don't talk." That was Wolf's voice.

She tried to nod, but the only thing that moved were her lips. She sucked at the wound and the more she drank, the more she wanted. Hot needles prickled down her arms to her fingers until they tingled painfully. As the sensation returned, she fumbled for a grip on Wolf's forearm and wrist with uncooperative fingers. She gulped against the healing wound until Wolf extracted himself. She whimpered, trying to hold him to her.

"It's enough, I think." Wolf held her head up with one hand.

"Wolf, why? What's happened?"

"Careful. Let me check you out before you move anymore." He probed her neck with gentle, sticky fingers, and her body pulsed with the familiar energy of his cool touch. Loti yelped as his fingers found a tender spot.

"Does that hurt?"

"Just tender." She cleared her throat. "What happened?" Her voice was grating and harsh. "I remember tripping and something tackled me."

He slid his arm under her neck and shoulders, nodding. "Something attacked you." He worked his other arm under the small of her back. "Let's see if you can sit up."

She made a cumbersome effort to acquiesce, but her arms were too heavy to lift and her legs prickled so painfully she cried out.

"Stop." He scooped her up into his arms, scanning her torso. "The wounds are healing." He clutched her to him as he stood.

"Wounds?" But as she said the word, she remembered the searing pain.

"He," Wolf spat the word out, "almost killed you." He stalked down the trail.

"Who?"

"I don't know who he was."

Loti's neck protested as she turned to look for the attacker. "Where is he?"

"He's there." Wolf thrust his head at a crumpled heap at the foot of a tree. "And there," he grumbled as he kicked the head with a booted toe, rolling the eyes away from her.

Loti rested her cheek over his shoulder, at first preoccupied by the tree trunk made up of red and orange streamers of light flowing up to hazy blue and green auras around black branches. Then remembering what she was looking for, she dropped her eyes to the dark heap. Her attacker. When her brain registered what she saw, she cringed. A headless body with a shredded, gaping hole. A fine mist of white light coalesced within the still form.

"Wolf, I can see his soul," she breathed.

Wolf didn't look back as he gripped her tighter and kept walking away from the sight. She wanted him to stop so she could watch, but at the same time, she wanted to get as far away as she could. Shivering with disquieting memories, she watched the mist stream from his belly, struggling to form some shape. Sadness hit her like a sucker punch to the kidney. It wasn't evil. Miserable, despairing, frightened, but not evil. The mist rose, thinning until its consciousness faded, and with it, thank god, the misery. It blended into the other light—the reds and oranges of the tree trunks. The blues and greens of the top branches. The red and yellow of the ground. Indistinguishable from the rest of the world.
Chapter 18

"Wolf?"

"Hmm?" He picked up speed, running so fast all the colors blurred.

Loti tucked her face into the nook of his neck, closing her eyes against the dizziness, but the colors didn't go away. She squeezed her eyes tighter, starting to get a headache. Her stomach dipped, and when she opened her eyes, they were high above the trees, cold air whistling by. She reburied her face.

"Where are we going?" She spoke into his neck, inhaling the smell of the forest and night air clinging to his skin.

"I have a place not far from here. We're almost there."

Loti's stomach growled, and Wolf laughed as his feet hit the ground with a gentle thump. "And I stocked up on food." He settled her at the foot of an oak. "Here, sit for a minute." He bent over to examine her neck.

"Ow." Her hands fluttered at his. "Would you stop poking at me?"

Wolf eased her hands into her lap. "You're not completely healed. You need more blood."

Loti wasn't sure what she needed, but she was too tired to argue. Wolf hunkered down and maneuvered her onto his lap, with her back against his chest. Strong arms pulled her tight against him, and it felt good—particularly good after the last four confusing, cold, and lonesome days. Wolf hooked an elbow under her chin, and there was a wet crunch. She could almost taste his blood and spit flooded her mouth. _Yuck._ _Why am I drooling_? Holding her close with the other arm, he held his wrist over her mouth.

"Drink," he ordered.

She pulled back at first, revolted by her craving and bristling at his command, but she wanted it. Pressing her lips around the oozing punctures, she drew blood into her mouth, and when it hit her tongue, she pulled harder, swallowing fast. Her body tensed with want. The heaviness in her arms receded, and she grabbed his forearm. With each pull, she felt more alert, her legs thrumming with energy that slid through her bones. It wormed its way through her belly and filled her head with a sapphire light.

Wolf's breath came shallow and ragged, and she thought at first she might be hurting him, drinking too much. But she knew that wasn't it. An aching desire throbbed between them as the wounds on his wrist closed. She lowered trembling, uncertain hands. Wolf's hands glided down her arms until his fingers weaved with hers. She wanted him to stay just like that until she could get a handle on what she was feeling. But she knew what she was feeling. Wolf cleared his throat.

"You need to eat and get cleaned up." He untangled their fingers. "I brought your backpack."

"No." Loti turned around. His irises were gone, just wide black holes against stark whites. Reds and oranges pulsed through and around him, ebbed and flowed.

"It's prana, isn't it?" Her hand hovered over his chest.

"I don't know what you're seeing, Loti," he murmured.

"I can see your chakras. Like at the shrine. I could see Guided's when he put his hand in the orb." She tried to stand, but stumbled back into his lap. Wolf steadied her with hands on her upper arms.

"I think you need to drink—"

"It's almost like we were taught, Wolf, during my yoga training." Excitement tweaked her voice. "And at college. All the books I've read, the healers I've worked with. This is what we talked about." Her fingers traced the air above his chest and down to his stomach.

He indulged her with a patient smile. "Did you doubt it?"

"No." She glanced away and then back. "But, I mean, well . . . maybe." She traced a finger over the varying swirl of orange in Wolf's lower abdomen, his eyes following her movements. "I thought it was a great way to describe something no one had seen or observed." She stopped, looking up at his face. "But some people have claimed to see it." Struck dumb by the naked, open need on his face, she held onto his arms, relishing the way he looked at her.

"Loti, you've got to drink." Wolf shifted her to the ground, then stood up, holding out his hands. "Come on."

"No more blood, Wolf." She clasped his hands.

"I mean water. You're dehydrated; your eyes are sunken."

She winced at the brief stab of pain between her eyes as he pulled her to her feet. He pinched the skin on the back of her hand, and it stood in a peak for too long.

"Oh," she mumbled. "Okay, I get the point."

Wolf wrapped an arm around her waist to guide her a few feet to the left of the tree and leaned down, padding around for something. Finding it, he pulled hard, and a door opened in the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, slow down. You haven't eaten in four days," Wolf chided, nudging the cup away from Loti's mouth.

"Knock it off," she snapped, hugging the plastic mug to her chest. "Have you forgotten what it's like to be starving?" She pushed her bottom lip out.

"Not at all." Wolf winked. "Of course, I crave something different these days."

"Ha ha." Loti took a small sip, looking away, wondering which kind of craving he was talking about. "I guess I never thought about, you know, vampires feeling hungry." She took another judicious sip of the coconut water. "Thirsty, yeah. Hungry, starved, no."

"Oh, believe me, we get hungry," he said with bright eyes.

"Knock it off." She hung her head, letting her hair fall between them, uncomfortable with the something he stirred up in her. And it wasn't just her, desire came off him in waves. Wolf turned away, startling her enough to stop mid sip. She peeked at him through the curtain of hair as he moved cups around in a cabinet. He handed her a blue enameled mug and leaned on his forearms on the counter that separated the sitting area from the kitchen. The pot of water on the propane stove boiled, and he stood up, dumped an envelope of yellow powder into the pot, fiddling with the flames. He kept his eyes off of her, but he raised an eyebrow as she painstakingly climbed onto the high stool on the sitting room side. Averting her eyes, she put the mug down on the counter and leaned forward, peering into the pot.

_Wonder what's for dinner?_ The hot steam forced her back, but she closed her eyes and inhaled.

"Just chicken broth." Wolf watched her closely.

Loti's fingers trembled as she turned the flame down on the stove until it simmered just right.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" Wolf leaned a hip on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

She looked straight into his brown eyes. "No." She could play this game too.

Wolf laughed a whole-hearted laugh. "Feeling better, I see." He shook his head and stepped over to the small fridge.

She bit her lip as he bent over to get something out of the refrigerator. It had been a long time since she felt anything close to this. The small stirrings she'd agonized over with Jeremy didn't hold a candle to this. _Maybe it's fair-maiden rescue syndrome_ , she thought, then snorted out loud. The corner of Wolf's mouth twitched as he closed the door _. He couldn't possibly . . . what does the fridge run on?_

"LP." Wolf handed her the blue and white carton he'd fished out of the fridge, his face almost neutral. "I use LP for the hot water too. It should be ready, if you want to clean up." The hardness she was used to in his face was nowhere to be found. It hadn't been there since under the tree by the secret door. Neither had the buzzing when they didn't touch. Interesting. She held the carton, reading the label. _Why coconut water?_

"Potassium. It's got more than bananas."

She poured the cloudy liquid into her mug with an unsteady hand. "Clean up?" Her voice squeaked, and she cleared her throat.

"There's a bathroom through that door." He pointed over her shoulder, and she looked back at the closed door. Putting the carton down on the counter, she struggled to get off the stool to his amusement and to her chagrin. Giving up, she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Could you help me?" Her pride, and other things, throbbed. "Please."

He hooked a hand under her armpit, but her legs still wobbled. If she leaned on Wolf, she could stay upright. Glancing over her shoulder at the simmering pot of soup, she stumbled.

"Easy," Wolf soothed. "Get cleaned up and changed, and it'll be ready when you're done."

She told herself he responded to the hungry look in her eyes.

When they stepped through the doorway, she caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror over the sink and paused, touching her matted hair in disbelief. It was in various stages of dredding. She touched the corner of her sunken eye and rubbed at the splatters and smears of blood and dirt on her pale face. Was it her blood or Wolf's? Or, ew, the shape-shifters? She dropped her hands to her side and forced her attention to a table with a brush, comb and a spray bottle of something standing to the right of the sink.

"It's a detangler." Wolf said.

Loti grabbed for the sink as her legs buckled, Wolf catching her. "I thought vampire blood was supposed to heal you and give you super strength," she tittered.

"Myth." Wolf turned her in his arms to face him; their noses almost touched. "Yes, it'll heal, but unless we turn you, you'll stay human strong—or weak. You had a really bad day, and it'll take time or . . . "

His face was a blur as she breathed. "What about that, um, sexual thing?"

He brushed his cheek against hers. "You mean, if you drink my blood, you'll want me?" His breath on her neck made her eyes flutter, among other things.

"Yeah."

He pressed his lips to the jumping pulse in her neck, and her body lit up like the fourth of July. Lifting his head, he kissed her breathless until she broke away.

"I'm filthy," she whispered.

Wolf's lips curled into a lush smile, his eyes tracing the curves of her face from her forehead to her mouth.

"I don't think I can handle a shower." She put her hands on his chest, gently pushing until he let go.

"Don't fall." He hesitated before turning toward the white, claw-foot tub. "You can take a bath." He narrowed his eyes.

Light-headed, she lowered herself to the tile floor, and when she was all the way down, Wolf turned back to the tub, adjusting knobs until water splashed against the enamel. _How in the hell did he get a claw-foot tub way up here in the mountains?_

"I had help," Wolf called over his shoulder.

Loti smacked the tile floor with an open hand. "You're not reading my mind." Her jaw flexed. "I can't hear you, so I don't think you can hear my thoughts."

He dumped powder out of a jar into the rushing water and bubbles sudsed up. "No. Not exactly. But I get the focus." He screwed the lid back on the jar and dropped it into a silver, metal basket hanging on the side of the tub. "I can tell what you're thinking about without the words."

"Is that an effect of your blood?"

He turned around with a serious frown. "No. I've never heard of that. I should be able to detect your emotions, but not your thoughts. Not yet, anyway." Turning back to the tub, he stirred the water with his hands, then stood up, towering over her, hands on his hips and a wicked smile on his face.

"Do you need help getting undressed?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti's muscles unwound as she soaked in the warm bath. Too weak to do more than lay there, she closed her eyes and raised a tired arm to run her fingers through her matted hair. _Disgusting._ Her arm fell back into the water with a weighty sploosh. _Damn._ She'd have to give her hair a good scrubbing tomorrow. Heading lolling to one side against the back of the tub, she stretched her legs way out, flexing her ankles and pointing her toes.

Wolf knocked at the door. "Are you settled?" His voice was muffled through the door.

Her eyes flew open. "Yes. Why?" She scooped armfuls of the bubbles around her chin.

"If it's okay, I'll wash your hair for you." Without waiting for an answer, he swung the door open.

She _was_ thinking about her hair, and she wanted to get cleaned up, but . . . "Do you think there's a way to shield my head from you?"

"Yes, we should be able to, but I can't shut you out." He carried a plastic pitcher as he stretched out to grab a yellow towel off the top shelf above the little table.

"I didn't say you could come in." She scowled, tucking her knees to her chest as he knelt by the tub, dropping the towel and pitcher.

"Yes, you did." He flipped his hair over his shoulder, gathering it into a hair tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. She had wanted him to come in, damn it. It was infuriating that he knew. _My thoughts are mine,_ she mentally yelled _. Stay out_.

He grimaced.

"Well, I am a mess." She uncurled her shoulders, watching him watching her. Their eyes lingered together for a moment.

"Sit up." Wolf ordered.

She looked down at the bubbles, then up at him, half a smile on her lips. She sat up, careful to keep things covered with suds. Feeling silly and awkward, she tucked her knees under her chin, her fingers playing with her toes under the water.

"Tilt your head back."

_Bossy, aren't we_?

The corner of his mouth flickered. She slipped her half-wet hair over her shoulders and down her back, tilting her face to the ceiling. Closing her eyes as Wolf scooped water out of the tub, she sighed at the sultry, soothing warmth of it running over her aching head and sore neck. As Wolf massaged it through from roots to the ends, Loti felt more than heard his thought about her. Startled by the awareness of the direction of _his_ thoughts, she blushed as she glanced up at him. His lips parted, but he picked up the shampoo bottle from the metal basket. Focusing on his hands, he squirted shampoo. When he looked back at her, she had her eyes closed, head back, waiting. His fingers worked her tingling scalp, taking their time massaging the shampoo through her thick mass of hair. The smell of coconut and lime, maybe vanilla too, intensified. His soapy hands worked her neck, kneading the knots, and goose bumps tightened her skin. A shiver culminated in hard, peaked nipples. She pulled her knees closer, afraid of her body's reaction to his hands, to the angle of his thoughts. Was the soothing magic of his touch changing again? From a calming pulse to an arousing one? Maybe his blood had done that. . .

"Mmmm, that's a manly fragrance," she tittered, eyes still closed.

"Mmm hmm."

Her ears perked up, sensing something to guard against. There was the tell-tale swoosh of water as he scooped more out of the tub. She waited, anticipating the warm flow over her head, but, instead, it splashed her face and up her nose.

"What the hell?" she sputtered, blowing hard out her stinging nose, pinching at it.

Wolf laughed and tossed another pitcher full at her, but she threw her hands up to block. She splashed the soapy water back at him with both hands, and he grabbed at them, the front of his flannel shirt drenched. He leaned into the tub, pinning her hands behind her back and laughing with an open expression that disarmed her. Indignation mixed with excitement as she tussled to get free, his eyes sparking.

"You know, resistance is futile." One eyebrow lifted.

She guffawed, her belly hiccuping with laughter. His hands loosened their grip, and she slid her arms around her shins, smiling easily as the laughing fit subsided. Suds plopped from her hair into the bath as the laughter played in his eyes. His knuckles brushed her upturned cheek, turning her grin into something softer. He reached for the pitcher, and Loti scrunched up her eyes.

"Wooooolf."

"I'll be good." He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti was in the flannel pajama bottoms and white t-shirt that she'd packed what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"I couldn't find that little number you wore the night I met you," Wolf quipped from his perch in front of the brick fireplace.

She paused halfway to sitting, remembering the nightgown she'd been wearing the night she sprinted from her house in panic. She blushed, self-conscious as she sank the rest of the way into the leather couch, a yawn stretching her jaw. It was late, or early depending on your perspective. She had no idea what time it was because there were no clocks or windows. She watched Wolf build a fire. Picking up and sniffing the cup of soup he had put on the coffee table, she recognized the aroma of rosemary and basil. Sipping, she noticed he'd added a little rice.

"You can eat more later. Take it slow." Wolf snapped a twig.

Breaking a fast wasn't new to her, but this was more than just not eating. It was a combination of dehydration and hypothermia, the physical exhaustion of hiking with no sleep, and the powerful visions at the top of the mountain. Drinking the hot broth in small mouthfuls, her thoughts hovered over the visions themselves. Wolf arranged the kindling into a little teepee.

"What's happening to us, Wolf?" The mug of soup paused halfway to her mouth as she flashed back on Wolf washing her hair. Throat tight, she drank her soup.

The fire grew as he added small sticks, then larger ones. He didn't answer her, but she felt him gathering his thoughts, figuring out how best to explain what he knew. The truth was he didn't know for sure. The fire crackled and she leaned forward, both hands cradling the mug of soup. The fire warmed her face and the smell of smoke comforted.

"I don't have any easy answers." Wolf added a split log to the fire. "I know that blood bonds take time and blood." He shook his head. "Why it started without blood, I can only guess that some of the legends are true. That light walkers and vampires can bond on an energetic level." His eyes reflected the twisting flames.

Shaking himself, Wolf leaned back and admired his handy work. "Now that's a fire." He spread is arms wide and Loti burst out laughing. She abandoned the mug, clutching her sides as she fell over sideways on the leather couch. Wolf lifted her as he settled down into the couch. Setting her upright, he ran a hand through her hair.

"Feel better?" His smile warmed.

She nodded, releasing a happy sigh as she picked up the mug.

"Tell me about it," Wolf said, still fingering her hair.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, knowing what he was talking about. "Have you been on one of these?"

He nodded. "Years ago, before I was turned. It was a rite of passage to be recognized as a man, to receive an adult name."

She contemplated her nails, not sure what to tell him. So she picked the safer things like her grandmother and the sweat lodge, but left out the harmful, raw things—the visions about David. Wolf rubbed her neck as she spoke, and then they lapsed into an easy silence. Loti snuggled into his side as the licking flames and the gentle warmth hypnotized her. Her head fell to his shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf brooded over her sleeping face, her deep, regular breaths, and the dark lashes fanned over pink cheeks. She'd been scary pale all night, and he worried he ought to take her to Guided, but she seemed better now. If he was honest about it, he wanted her to himself. His eyes blinked rapidly as he scanned the room and gripped her tighter.

Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, she moaned in her sleep and slid her hand up to his chest. He stared at it like he wasn't sure what it was, and then covered it with his. Could she be nunne'hi? What they had researched and talked about and looked for? Calisto was positive, and the test at the shrine seemed to prove it. _A light walker. A Light Walker_

He scratched the prickle at the back of his neck. Groaning, he slid out from under her, gathering her into his arms to carry her to the bedroom. As he pulled back the covers with one hand, he balanced her against him with the other before laying her down. She curled up on her side, slipping her hands under her face. He tucked the covers around her, and took his time walking to the other side of the bed. He stopped midway unbuttoning his shirt, rubbed the middle of his forehead.

Her chest rose and fell in the snug white t-shirt and he closed his eyes. He wished he could escape to the bike shop, do something productive like rebuild an engine. When he opened his eyes he glanced over and quickly looked away. His chest constricted as he finished undressing and slid under the covers. He lay on his back, one hand tucked under the pillow, a mystified expression on his face.
Chapter 19

Loti woke to blackness. Disoriented, she patted around her. A bed. A duvet. She rolled over bumping into Wolf; his chakra colors and meridians pulsed drowsily. The light didn't illuminate the dark room; it wasn't that kind of light. The smell of wood smoke mixed with coconut and lime. Her belly clenched. She didn't remember going to bed. She talked with Wolf on the couch, the warmth of the fire and his arm cocooning her. By the time she'd finished telling him about her visions, she'd curled up against him like it was something they had been doing for a long time.

She stretched out on her stomach, leaning on elbows and her chin resting on the heels of her hands. He glowed from the inside out, looking like a picture negative, only in color. With tentative fingers, she touched his heart center, the place right above his sternum and between his nipples. Lowering her palm to rest on his cool skin, she felt no heartbeat, but his chest rose and fell. _They breathe, but their hearts don't beat. Got it._ Her hand sank, heavy with want, to his chest, twitching with the desire to run down his stomach. She jerked it away, frustrated and confused. _What's magic? What's real?_

"It's all real."

She jumped at Wolf's sleepy voice and looked up at his broadening and brightening prana.

Without opening his eyes, he said, "What do you think magic is, Loti?"

She fingered her lips as she thought hard about his question. "We call something magic when we don't understand how it works."

"Exactly. It's another natural force we don't understand, and what's happening to us is natural magic—unusual, but natural."

Opening his eyes, he rolled onto his side and laced his fingers through the hair behind his ear. He propped himself up on one elbow. The light patterns drew his nose and lips, and she suddenly understood that his subtle energy _was_ his physical body and more. In him, in a vampire, it was close to the bone, so to speak. Hers spread out more, beyond the physical parts. She glanced down at her body, noting her colors weren't as intense or as deeply hued.

"Did I sleep the whole day?" She looked back at him.

"I don't know. I was asleep."

Before she understood what he was doing, he pulled her close and kissed her. A hot flush crawled up her spine to the nape of her neck. She stroked his shoulder, yielding to the languid kiss. He broke away to look in her eyes and run his fingers along her jaw.

"You're mine," he whispered, the words barely audible.

She froze.

"Do I frighten you?" He tilted her chin up.

"No." And he didn't, not really. Those words were so familiar. They studied each other for a long moment.

"Then what it is it?" His voice was low and intimate.

Loti inhaled that musky, man smell: Wolf's smell. _It's like it was meant just for me_ , she thought as she held her breath, relaxing around the fullness of it. Another prickly-hot rush poured through lower things. Cold shivers coursed up her spine as her breath escaped in a gush.

"What do you want, Wolf?" she whispered.

"You."

She waited for him to make some kind of move: to kiss her, to caress his hands over her, something. When he didn't, she couldn't tell if that annoyed her or made her want him more. For some awful reason, her father popped into her head. After Calla died, he barely spoke to Loti, and then one day, he didn't come home from work. She leaned her forehead against Wolf's, needing to touch him, to shake the disturbing train of thought. At the shift in her thoughts, he stroked her hand. His fingers wandered up her arm and over her shoulder until his hand cupped her slender neck. She sighed and searched his eyes.

"I'm not a toy," she said.

"I didn't think you were." He looked perplexed as his hand dropped to the bed; his hair still tied back in the loose ponytail, a few stray strands around his face.

Loti wanted, beyond reason, to smooth the furrow from his brow. Uncertain and needing to do something, she tucked a strand of his hair behind an ear, but that didn't satisfy at all. Giving in to the need, she ran a thumb across his forehead, wiping away his uncertainty. He ran his fingers down her arm and brought her hand to his mouth. He pressed his lips to her palm. She inhaled. Wolf turned her hand over and kissed the soft back of it. Cold shivers. He turned it over, kissed the inside of her wrist. Hot prickles. She licked her lips, wanting to tell him something.

"I'm listening," Wolf murmured into her wrist.

She knew he could hear her heart beat and smell the hormones surging through her blood. Hell, _she_ smelled the reek. He knew the focus of her thoughts, but she chickened out. "I don't know how to do this."

Wolf kissed the inside of her arm up to her elbow. The quiver in her stomach slid into her pelvis and thighs as he licked the soft spot on the inside of her elbow.

"I do." He blew softly.

Against her will, Loti moaned. Wolf turned to the inside of her upper arm, where the skin was so soft and the scent of her so strong. As he brushed his cheek over her shoulder, he felt the flutter of her breath. He licked the place under her ear, and when she gasped, he clutched her close, burying his head in her neck.

Her lips parted— _David_ —and she held very still.

"Loti," Wolf whispered into her neck as the unbidden tears slid down, collecting on her chin.

She squeezed her eyes tight, pressing her cheek into Wolf's as he kissed the same sensitive place under her ear again and again. He licked the tears as they dripped down her neck _._

If I let myself feel this now, I'll never come back.

"Yes, you will."

At his murmur, a sob escaped. The tears ran hotter as her body trembled. Wolf held on, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him kiss her, touch her wherever he wanted _._

_Oh, David._ She gritted her teeth. _Go away._

"What do you see?" His voice soothed like his hands, with a gentle want and craving.

"David. The way he looked—" She choked on the words. "The day he died." Loti convulsed as the pain erupted like a geyser, Wolf's eyes popping open. Jolting away from her like he'd been zapped with a cattle prod, his hands gripped her shoulders. His face contorted as the thought passed through her mind, _He'll get up now and walk away_. Something fierce and primal twisted his features. He smashed his mouth over hers. Claiming the back of her head with one hand, his other arm crushed her against him as the cold grief and the hot lust churned between them. Wolf's hungry mouth ran over her. Through salty tears and with swollen lips she sought his mouth and lost herself in the glide of hands. Her chest and belly melded to his and her flanneled thigh slid over the smooth skin of his hip.

"It's like I'm trying to absorb you through my skin," she whispered.

He growled low in his chest as he switched their position. Loti found herself lying on her back looking up into Wolf's glittering eyes.

"You're mine," he growled, and she heard exactly what he said and felt exactly what he meant. He covered her mouth with his—his kiss gentle and hard. His tongue explored her, and she surrendered to it, to his beautiful hands, to the piercing sadness as he rolled her t-shirt up over her bare breasts. He yanked it over her head and tossed it aside. Sitting up, he held her wrists above her head as his eyes and free hand grazed her bare skin. Goose bumps bloomed wherever he touched. Tears flowed as his hands slid down her arms, his fingers tracing the dip of her waist and sliding the flannel bottoms off. He ran his hands over the tops of her shaking thighs and up until his palms cupped her full breasts. His thumbs swirled over hard nipples. The pleasure was so sharp, it stung. It had been so miserably long since she'd been touched like this, and every cell thrummed because it was Wolf.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured.

She slid the elastic band from his hair, and it swung heavily around his shoulders. She ran her fingers through it as his hand slid over her quivering stomach and lower. Her fingers traced the contour of a bicep, palms smoothed out his bunched chest. He watched her hands wander mindlessly down, and she jumped as he found her wet and swollen. Wolf lowered his head to her breast and raked fangs around a hard nipple. A flush warmed her neck and burned her cheeks as his fingers stroked and filled her. She arched her back as his tongue trailed over her taut skin, his mouth enveloping a nipple. Her body rolled against his.

Wolf bit hard and deep, and she whimpered as he sucked both nipple and blood. Her release rolled through her, contracting and pulsing down her thighs as Wolf fed—even her bones throbbed with peaceful undulations. Saturated in endorphins, Loti's focus drifted to his feeding as she stroked the back of his head. He groaned, releasing her and licking the wounds. He slid up her body and spread her thighs with one knee. She gasped as her body opened to him.

"Look at me, Loti."

She opened bleary eyes to a pulsing light show and his irises melted away. Their eyes locked as he moved slowly inside her. Her body thrummed and pulsed with their love making and all the pent-up grief. Panting, Wolf buried his face in her neck, and pressing her cheek to him, she whispered, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

He bit.

"Wolf," she exhaled, closing her eyes and drowning in the sensation of him suckling her neck. He moved faster, harder, and she cried out his name as he brought her with him. He yelled something disjointed then whispered, "Loti."

His weight gradually slumped onto her as their bodies yielded and softened. She didn't mind. She felt safe, protected. He licked the bite wounds on her neck rhythmically, and Loti opened eyes to a night sky. Stars twinkled. A streak flashed across the scene, and Loti sucked in a breath.

"What is it?" Wolf 's voice was sleepy and relaxed.

"A shooting star." Loti stroked his back. "How? What happened to the ceiling?"

"Magic." His lips brushed her ear. "Rachel did it. She cast a spell that mirrors the sky."

"When was Rachel here?"

"That night . . . the night we met. We had just gotten back when you showed up."

"You brought her here to do this?"

"To work on the protection wards. She did this as a gift."

She snaked her arms around his back, hugging him tight. Little aftershocks rippled through them as they lay under the open sky for long minutes without talking. "What will that do to me?"

Wolf shifted his weight off of her, to her disappointment. "You'll feel a little weak, but it won't hurt you—I didn't take that much." He paused. "You'll want to be around me more."

"I still have a choice?" She snorted.

"Yes, you do." He rolled to his side, propping the pillow under his neck. Pulling the blankets over them, Loti rolled to face him, but shot straight up instead.

"Oh my god, Wolf. Your aura!"

Wolf's aura was a huge pulsating cloud of color—an animated rainbow flowing red from his legs and groin to the spinning crown of white above his head.
Chapter 20

She looked down at her aura. It was brighter and bigger, but the oddest thing, the thing that scared her, was the heart chakra. The green vortex spun out to Wolf and swirled _in_ him.

"Stand up." She jumped up yanking him to his feet beside her on the bed, steadying herself with a hand on his arm as she looked them both up and down. "They're mixing, Wolf. Our energies are mixing."

"That explains a lot." His voice was distracted as he mirrored her movements, although he couldn't see what Loti was seeing—not exactly. "Why didn't you see this before?" he said more to himself than to her. He could sense what was going on in her head—actually, now that he focused on it he could hear it. _I don't think this was happening before,_ she thought.

I can hear your thoughts.

Loti's head snapped up. _Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue,_ she experimented.

"Red, orange, yellow, green, blue," Wolf said out loud, just a hair behind the thought. "My turn." He leaped off the bed. "Close your eyes."

She did, but something wrenched in her chest, and she suspected the cause. "What are you doing?" she yelped.

"Try to see what I'm seeing," his voice drifted from the living room.

"Oh. I can see the fireplace and the glowing coals under the ash." She jumped off the bed, running to the living room to see what he was seeing and to stop the sharp tug. She peered into the fireplace seeing black, banked coals because she didn't have his vampire eyes.

"Okay, now you. Close your eyes." Careful not to go too far too fast, Loti edged up to the breakfast bar and turned back to study the translucent taffy that stretched between them.

"I see it. That's what you've been seeing? How the hell do you look at that all day?" He opened his eyes, beautiful with awe, and walked toward her.

"I don't know. It sort of blends into everything, but it wasn't anything like this yesterday. This is intense."

A sudden cold sweat broke out all over her, her knees going limp. She grabbed the counter. Nauseous, she fought against the narrowing tunnel of light as her chest fluttered, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Wolf hurried around the counter and opened the fridge. Suddenly, she was in his arms and being carried, something cold and damp against her back.

"Hey, what's that?" she protested.

He carried her back to the bedroom, lowering her to the bed and handing her a carton of coconut water. "You need to drink this. I shouldn't have fed on you." He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "You're still weak from exposure." He flipped on the reading lamp on her side of the bed.

"No, Wolf, it's okay. Don't say that. It makes me feel like you regret it."

He huffed out his nose, rubbing his face with a hand. "That's not what I meant." Climbing into bed, he jerked the covers up around them, dropping his head back to the pillow.

She kept wary eyes on him as she took a slug from the cartoon. It tasted damn good.

From his back, he watched her chug the cold sweetness and lick her lips. Looking around for somewhere to put the carton, she noticed that the bed was a king and there were two plain night stands beside it. Across the room on the opposite wall was a simple wooden chair and desk with full bookshelves on either side. It took her a moment to figure out what was wrong with the wall; it was curved rock. She turned her head to follow its contour around the room.

Her insecurity forgotten, she asked, "What is this room? It's not like the living area." Her eyes still on the stone wall and starry sky ceiling, she reached behind her to set the carton down on the night stand, almost dropping it on the floor.

"When we dug down, we found a cave. We incorporated it into the design." He shuffled the blue pillows so he could lie on his side.

"Neat." She turned her eyes back to Wolf, her anxiety returning. "Anything like this ever happen when you feed on others?" Loti rolled onto her side and tucked her arms under her head.

"Nothing like this." Wolf's voice was subdued as he watched her face flick through emotions.

"I've been told that normal vampire bonds don't happen without blood exchange, but that feeling I—we had on Davis Street was the start of ours. Explain how that could happen, and now that we've shared blood, what will happen?"

"Like I told you, it's not supposed to happen without blood, but there's a legend Calisto told me about Light Walkers."

"Jyotika?"

He nodded. "Supposedly, they're metaphysical healers—more than and different from a tribal healer." He sat up a little taller, leaning on his elbow. "While a tribe healer can help your body heal, a light walker is supposed to change your energy. I think the Cherokee's nunne'hi tales are based on the same people."

She snugged the covers around her neck and supported her head with her arms and hands. He sank back down into the pillows, sliding one arm under her neck, while his other hand gripped her hip under the covers and dragged her to him.

"But she can't do it alone, according to the legends. She needs a vampire to bond with, and they don't get a choice about it." He let that sink in.

Her bare stomach touched his. It dawned on her that she hadn't felt the buzzing sensation in her spine for a while. _When had it stopped?_ She couldn't remember feeling it at all since she woke up with Wolf's blood in her mouth at the base of the mountain.

"So, it just happens when a light walker and a vampire get close enough to each other?"

Wolf's eyes narrowed. "No, not just any vampire."

She nestled into his chest. "Not just any." She rubbed her cheek against his cool skin. "Then, you and I were supposed to meet."

He rested his chin on her crown. "Something like that." He moved, lifting her chin so she looked into his eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe we're just the right fit, and if we happened to meet, then the bond would take effect." He studied her deep blue eyes, her full, pink lips, and the small cleft of an imperfection in her upturned nose. "Maybe, if you hadn't been on that street at just the right time, this never would have happened."

"I find that hard to believe," she said. "We were bound to run into each other at some point. You're part of Rachel's family, and her family is my family."

Wolf let her chin drop and collapsed onto his back, shoving his hands behind his head, staring at the night sky. "You're probably right. What does that mean? We were meant to be?"

Loti didn't like the change in his tone. She curled up like an unborn child, pulling her knees in protectively and tucked her hands deeper under her head. For just a few moments, she'd felt safe, but she should have known it wasn't permanent. _Nothing is._

Wolf's head snapped around, his eyes full of frustration, his mouth hard. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. This _is permanent._ "

"How permanent?" She shrunk back a little.

"'til death-do-us-part permanent. Vampire bonds become permanent with enough blood exchange, and it's only when the bond becomes unbreakable that the pair can read each other's thoughts." His tone grew angrier with each word.

Loti whispered, "You just fed from me for the first time." She curled tighter into herself, her gaze fixed on Wolf's chest so she didn't have to look at the hardened lines of his face. She couldn't stand it. David would get angry like this, and it broke her heart. Cool knuckles brushed her cheek, and she realized they were wet. Looking back up at Wolf, his face soft and blurry now, she unclenched. It had been such a long time since she and David had made love. She forgot how sex opened her up. The week after his diagnosis, they'd made slow, sad love, and she had cried herself to sleep in his arms.

"You're thinking about your husband." Wolf's fingers traced her jaw, and his thumb stroked her bottom lip. "And it hurts."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Wolf. I don't mean—"

"You don't need to apologize."

Turning around, she cuddled her backside against him, and his body molded to hers as she lifted her arm, letting him slide his top arm around her waist. Tucking his hand under her side, she squeezed his arm with hers. His arms were solid enough, his chest wide enough to keep the whole world out, and she rested her head on the arm he slipped under it. _I could stay here forever_.

"You can."

She jumped. This bond was going to take some getting used to. She wasn't sure she wanted it, but then again, she craved it—she was starved for it. _I'm so sick of being alone_. A lump welled in her throat.

"You're not alone."

And as if he were Aladdin speaking the magic words, the floodgates of her heart opened. They both made room for the waves of pain and grief that rushed like water through sand, carving out more space inside of her, inside of him. It was then she realized she was able to feel what he was feeling: his confusion, his awe, his tenderness. She let the breath out of her lungs, startled at all of those feelings dwelling side by side—her grief for David, her feelings for Wolf, Wolf's feelings for her. Grief waned and fire-spitting anger rushed in to fill the vacuum. She gritted her teeth against the vicious flames eating at her soul.

"Don't fight it. Fighting makes it worse. Just breathe. Do what you were doing—make room for it," Wolf whispered in her ear.

She nodded, watching their heart chakra as the anger burned itself out and a slow, soul-killing wad of guilt expanded in its place. She gagged on it. Wolf grimaced and slid the arm under her neck across her chest, till his elbow wrapped around her neck. Gripping hard over her breast and under her armpit, he whispered fiercely into her ear, "There's something you need to say." His voice vibrated inside her chest and up her throat, trying to shake the wad loose.

No. Stop. I can't speak it

He kissed the dip in her shoulder. _Then show me._

Loti grabbed his hand over her chest, digging her fingers into his and led Wolf down the rabbit hole to the buried memory.

" _Loti, I need you to make up your mind."_

David lay in their bed under the Amish quilt Katie Brown had gifted to them at their wedding. His hair was gone and there were bluish-purple circles under his eyes. The cancer was merciless, cruel, and killing him painfully.

" _Now?"_

She handed him the cup of ice water, and David hurled it across the room, water splashing on the bedspread, ice cubes skittering across the floor.

" _Damn it, Loti. Yes! NOW. I told you what I want. I've been telling you and telling you. Its time. I'm DONE."_

Loti ran into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and paused to steady her shaking hands. When she returned, her hair covered the side of her face closest to David as she dabbed at the water, trying not to push the water in, flexing her jaw.

" _Leave the damn water alone and answer me for Christ's sake," David snarled._

Her heart clenched in a gush of adrenaline. Even drained, weak, close to death, he could still scare her.

" _I can't, David." Her voice was strangled. She threw the towel at his face. "Jesus, you're asking too much." Her arms clutched her stomach. David closed his eyes and sank bonelessly into the bed, not bothering to move the pink fleur-de-lis towel._

" _That's your answer then. I have to do it alone." He took a slow, difficult breath. "Then that's what I have to do." He reached for the brown dopp kit on his night stand, and Loti slumped to the edge of the bed, shaking her head. Her hand circled his wrist before he could pick it up._

" _No, David. That's not my answer. I just . . . I don't know how to do this."_

" _You think it's easy for me? Leaving you? You are the only reason I've put up with this . . . why I've fought so hard, but it's too much. You have to let me go."_

She hated herself for making him beg. She hated him for asking this. Eyes burning, she stared up at the ceiling, nodding, chin quivering.

" _You're done."_

David nodded once. "No more."

Her face still tilted to the ceiling, still nodding, she managed, "Okay."

" _Now. Please."_

The tears spilled as she turned to him. His eyes clouded over as he sat up, cupping her cheek with his hand. Lowering her eyes to her hand covering his, she swallowed before looking back into his eyes. She rose from the bed and walked around to her side, and as if settling herself for an afternoon of quiet reading, she arranged the pillows. Climbing in, she leaned her side against them, drawing her knees up and tucking her feet behind her. He never took his grateful eyes off her sad ones until she was settled. He slid over to her, lowering his bald head to her lap, tucking a hand under her thigh. His thin fingers grasped the soft inside, while she stroked his stubbled cheek over and over until his eyes closed.

She told herself, I won't cry anymore. She absorbed his thin face, memorizing the little bump in the middle of the bridge of his nose, the crooked turn of his top lip, and then she let her eyes unfocus, his face blurring. She felt the struggle inside of him: the cancer, the anemic flow of his energy. Where was it?

But she knew. She needed to open the door, the way she opened a channel to fix an imbalance as her healer had taught her.

Just open the door, Loti, and he'll find it.

There. Here, David.

Thank you, my dear, sweet, beautiful wife. I have loved you since the day we met—no matter what anyone might tell you, I've always loved you, and I'm so grateful you chose to love me back. Goodbye, Loti.

Goodbye, David.

And his soul flowed from his body like mist rising over a summer meadow. Softly, quietly, it rose into the ether. For a moment, she flashed on what she thought was their last love-making, but it was indistinct, covered in the gauzy film of guilt. Like sunlight melting the morning mist, he was gone.
Chapter 21

Wolf lay sleeping beside her while she read _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance._ It was one of the many books on his bookshelves, and she'd never read it. Being underground messed with her circadian rhythms and she couldn't sleep. Wolf had cooked for her earlier, dismissing her protests that she could do it herself. This time he made curried lentil soup—her favorite.

"How'd you know?" Her mouth watered.

He paused his stirring. "I don't know."

He also brought cranberry chipotle cheddar to grate over top, and the pièce de résistance was a crusty French baguette with rosemary infused olive oil for dipping—Margarite's idea. Still, Loti could only manage a small cup and a few bites of bread, her stomach resisting that little bit of nourishment.

"Does anyone know where we are?" She'd asked.

He'd said Katie and Calisto agreed it would be best if the two of them stayed here. Someone out there still wanted something from her, and she'd be safer recuperating in his lair; where, besides the wards, the iron ore helped block any magic.

"Rachel just reinforced the existing wards, so no one should be able to find you here."

"What about Patrick?"

Wolf tossed the dirty dishes in the sink. "Katie's working on it." He scrubbed a cup. "Korinna is going to stop by tomorrow night with fresh supplies." Wiping his hands on a white dish towel, he turned around. "You can send a message to Rachel if you want."

They talked in front of the fire and even went above ground for a little while where Wolf showed her how the cave was ventilated and where the chimney was.

A Whip-poor-will took up guard duty in the tree by the chimney and called faintly down the chimney shaft. It wasn't annoying, yet. She reached for the ever-present carton of coconut water Wolf insisted on, and her bare hip brushed against Wolf's hot side. She paused, hand hanging midair. Lowering the book, she touched his side. He was burning up. Fumbling to her knees, she leaned over him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. He definitely had a fever. Perplexed, she rested her cheek on his chest just to be sure.

Thump.

As if slapped, she jerked her head away, eyes bugging. Unsure what to do next, she knelt beside him. Eventually, curiosity won out over panic, and she cautiously touched her cheek to his burning chest again.

Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump.

What the hell? That was definitely a heartbeat. He didn't have one before, but he had one now. Maybe he had some kind of vampire flu and that was one of the symptoms? She grasped at straws because she'd never heard of vampires getting sick—and that was in the text book. They didn't contract disease, so they couldn't pass on diseases, and they also couldn't have children. She had no idea what was wrong with him, and fear gripped her as Wolf groaned and thrashed about in his sleep. Rolling over, he faced away from her, flinging the covers off his legs in the process. He settled down, his breath lengthening. As nice as the view was, she slipped the covers back over his hips, leaving his upper body exposed to let the heat dissipate.

She glanced around the room as if there might be an answer written on the wall, but finding nothing to assuage her anxiety, she slumped onto her side. Well, if he had a fever, she'd keep an eye on him. She examined his swirling energy—red into orange into yellow. Green into blue into violet. Nothing was out of balance; nothing popped out at her. Everything seemed as it should be.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf sneezed, startling himself awake, the echo of his own snore in his ear. Twilight had already claimed the sky, and Loti lay beside him curled into a ball. The book she'd been reading was abandoned face-down on the bed. He clamped his hand to his forehead and sat up, woozy as he swung his legs over the edge. As his feet touched cold granite, Loti shivered. Smiling, he slipped the duvet over her bare skin. He hadn't felt that sensation since . . . before he was turned. Running a hand through his hair, he stood up. A wave of dizziness hit him and he plopped back down on the bed and looked over his shoulder at the sleeping Loti. His heart skipped a beat. _What?_ He grabbed his chest. _What the fuck?_ Standing, he swayed, his vision tunneling down to nothing. Without a warning, his stomach kicked its contents out, and he puked blood all over the bedroom floor. When the spasms subsided, he wiped his mouth with a shaky hand.

"Loti?"

"Hmmmm?" she mumbled, rolling onto her stomach and tucking her arms under her pillow. She rubbed her cheek against it and fumbled around for the covers. Wolf grabbed her hand, and she jerked to sitting, her eyes flared wide.

"You're still burning up."

He looked at her with uncertain eyes.

"This isn't some vampire flu, is it?" She couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice. "Something's really wrong?"

When he didn't answer, she slid over and put her hands on his sweaty shoulders. Her stomach rolled in empathy. Feeling each other's emotions had morphed while they'd slept into physical sensations. Hovering her hands just above his skin, the sensation went away. _Yep, gone._ She rested them on his shoulders, resisting the urge to snap her hands away when the sickness returned.

"I don't know what's going on, but we need to get help." Wolf put a hot, shaky hand on hers.

She peered into his face and scanned his entire body, looking for something wrong with his energy. She could now see what she had always been able to sense. Each chakra spun in the right direction and prana flowed through the meridians the way it was supposed to—how she knew it was right, that was a mystery, but she knew it none the less.

"I'm not detecting anything wrong with you—" but she faltered as she became aware of one crucial thing. She glanced from his feet to his head and back down again. "Your polarity is reversed." She bit her lip as she turned her gaze to his face.

"What?" He looked himself over.

"Let me step back." She scooted to the edge of the bed to step down.

"Wait." He reached out too late. Her foot slipped in the hot, slick blood, but he caught her before she fell.

"Eww." She braced one knee on the bed. "What is that?" Lifting the bottom of her foot up and to the side, she squeaked, "Blood? Where are you bleeding from?" She ran her hands over his torso and down his sides, looking for a wound.

"No." He cleared his throat. "I threw up."

"You what?" She jerked upright.

"I threw up," he snapped. Prickles burst under her ribs at the tone of his voice. "Christ, Loti, I'm not mad at you." Wolf spoke gruffly. "I'm sick."

"I didn't mean—I didn't understand what you said," she muttered. "I'm confused."

"I'm sorry, okay? Just help me." His eyes pleaded with her for understanding and she flashed back on David.

"Okay," she said in a business like tone, her back rigid. "A reverse polarity is not supposed to be life-threatening. It usually means that something emotional is not being expressed?"

Wolf looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Okay, maybe that doesn't apply in this instance." She bit her lip.

Wracking her brain, she tried to remember what reversed polarity was all about. It was usually a brief state, as the body and soul worked through some issue. She once worked with a client who had a chronic reversed polarity that caused depression and irritability. The client complained of migraines and general nausea, fatigue and obsessive thoughts, but that didn't apply.

At a loss, Loti shook her head. "I don't know what it means, other than something's working itself out. Maybe the bond is causing it." She felt miserable. "I'm sorry, Wolf. I'm no help." She scooted around the bed on her knees so she wouldn't touch anything with the bloody foot. He lowered his head into both hands, elbows propped on his knees.

"The nausea is going away," he mumbled into his hands.

She was overcome with a wave of sadness. Was it hers or Wolf's?

"I feel it too. I thought it was you." Wolf snapped his head up and exclaimed, "Damn it." His frustrated voice echoed in the cave.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, the bloody puke cleaned up, Loti ran a lukewarm bath. Wolf was agitated and inconsolable, and no matter what Loti said or did, he took offense. He had a fit in the living room, tossing books and kicking the cold ash in the fireplace, smashing a stool. She was desperate to calm him down, but he made it worse on himself and, because of their bond, on her.

"I can hear you," he yelled through the bathroom door.

"Good," she shouted back, her hand shaking under the faucet. "When is Korinna supposed to come?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" The bathroom door banged against the wall and a naked Wolf stormed in. "Is it ready? I can't stand this. I'm burning up from the inside."

Grabbing her around the waist, he snatched her off the edge of the tub. She balked at the raging need in his eyes. It jerked through her body like a junkies jitters, and he was hard against her stomach. There was a tearing sound and her t-shirt disappeared as he shoved her into the cool water, yanking her yoga pants down. The sopping wet clump plopped onto the tile floor as he pushed himself between her legs. Both of them panted with the need, every cell in their bodies on point. He pressed into her with one great shove, and she yelped at the double sensation of his and hers mixed.

Ramming her against the back of the tub over and over, water sloshing over the edge, his boiling hot skin drove her closer and closer. Their orgasm built simultaneously until it burst over them, and they shuddered together as he bit her neck, hard.

She yelled in pain. "Wolf."

He sucked greedily, and the pain morphed into bone-clenching pleasure. He moved inside of her, slower this time, and she gasped and trembled as he brought her again. His nursing slowed, and his wide tongue laved her neck. Through the fog of afterglow, a sudden jolt of terror ripped through her, and Wolf lurched away, turning her chin to the side.

"Did I hurt you?" His voice was desperate.

"No, I mean, yes, but in a good way," she marveled. The vicious bite wound was closing already.

"Dear, god, Loti, what if—"

"You didn't so don't go there." Her eyes twinkled.

He squatted in the tub between her shaking legs, his eyes blank. "Are you cold?" He gathered her to him, his body radiating heat like hot asphalt.

"Hardly." She laughed.

He hugged her close, murmuring apologies into her hair.

She smacked his shoulder with a loud, wet whack. "Stop apologizing for making mad, passionate love to me, okay?" Holding his tortured face in her hands, she smiled. "I liked it."

He slumped, the faucet jabbing him in the back. Jumping, he squeezed around her to the other side and leaned back into the cool water.

"I'll run some more. We seem to have emptied the tub." Loti twisted the faucet handles, adjusting the temperature. "It's a little cooler, but I think it'll help."

"I'm feeling better." Wolf sighed, dragging her to his overheated body.

She snuggled into his chest and turned sideways, pulling a knee up over his thigh.

"Watch it." He stopped her knee just short of a groin strike.

"Sorry," she muttered, closing her eyes. Exhausted, she dozed off instantly.
Chapter 22

"Hello?" Korinna called into the empty living room, the front door creaking open. All was eerily silent in Wolf's lair. She raised an eyebrow at the scattered books, splintered stool, and the fireplace ash all over the furniture and floor. Picking her way through the litter to the breakfast counter, she set down a bulging bag. Eyebrows stretched high, she glanced around one more time and headed for the bedroom door. It was the middle of the night, but maybe they were napping? The bedroom door stood ajar, but she knocked anyway.

"Hello?" Korinna rested a hand on the door knob. "Wolf? Loti? It's me, Korinna." She waited for an answer, but when none came, she pushed the door open, peering around it into the cave room. The bed was empty, the long-armed reading lamp creating a blue-white glow in the room. With one hand still on the door knob, she leaned around, just to make sure.

No. No one there.

She backed out of the bedroom and took the three steps to the bathroom. This door was wide open, and she heard snoring. Smiling, she stepped through the door, slipping on the wet tile. She landed with a thunk on her well-rounded rear.

"Damn it," she yelped.

There was a splashing commotion from the tub, and she stared into Wolf's fever-glazed eyes. Not sure what to make of him, she held vampire still. His jaw clenched, strain apparent around his mouth. He blinked, his features softening as he settled back against the tub.

"Korinna. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," he mumbled, covering his eyes with a hand.

"Wolf? What's wrong?" She pushed herself up to kneeling. Giving up on keeping dry, she scooted through the half inch of water on the bathroom floor to the edge of the tub. Loti was fast asleep in Wolf's lap. Korinna looked up at Wolf's beleaguered expression and then back at the flooded tile and wet pile of clothes. She picked up a scrap of Loti's white T-shirt between pinched fingers, holding it like it was something rotten.

"Things going okay?"

"No," Wolf rumbled. "I'm sick."

She slapped the piece of cloth on the floor. "That's impossible. Vampires don't—"

"Yeah, well, I am. I don't know what the fuck is going on, and I need you to get Fiamette and Guided, and maybe Calisto. I don't know. One of them should have some idea."

Korinna nodded. "I'm contacting Justin. He'll let them know." She peered into the tub. "Is she okay?" She gently touched Loti's forehead.

"Yeah, but no thanks to me." Wolf sighed.

Narrowing her eyes, she leaned back. "You need to be careful with her, you know? This is new to all of us, but imagine what she's going through."

"I. Don't. Need. Your. ADVISE," he screamed.

Korinna jumped back vampire-quick to the doorway.

Loti scrambled out of his lap, her mouth curled back in a sneer, as she clutched her bare chest.

"What's wrong?" Korinna hovered in the doorway, ready to slam and run.

"Korinna." She jumped up. "Please don't go. You've got to help him. Something's wrong." Loti slipped and fell getting out of the tub, but both Wolf and Korinna caught her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I know, Loti. I've told Justin. He's getting the message to Calisto right now. He'll get Fiamette and Guided too."

Loti looked from Wolf to Korinna. Justin, the young blond, must be her bond mate? They set her on her feet, and a shadow crossed her face.

"Why Fiamette?" The woman was not exactly pleasant the last time she'd seen her. Fiamette's warning, "you have no idea what kind of trouble you're stirring up" came back to Loti. How had she known?

"She didn't know anything, Loti. She was just—" Wolf held her close while Korinna reached for towels on the wall shelf. Wrapping her in the blue terry-cloth Korinna handed him, he pushed her toward the door. "Go get dressed. I'll get this mess cleaned up."

Loti gave him a quizzical look, but he waved her on. _You didn't answer my question._

Wolf sighed. "She specializes in supes. She can heal supes best."

Korinna held a matching towel out to him, eyebrows raised as he wrapped it around his waist, tucking the ends in. He grabbed another towel and knelt down to sop up the water

"Yes, we can hear each other's thoughts."

Korinna's nostrils flared, but she said nothing as she turned and left Wolf to his chore.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, there's nothing wrong with you," Fiamette declared.

Loti and Wolf looked at each other and back at Fiamette. A small smile played at her lips as she organized her healing bottles and bags in the brown leather satchel. She kept her eyes on her hands.

Quietly, she said, "I told you so."

Loti sat back, her left eye twitching.

Wolf set his jaw. "Fiamette, I don't understand." He was used to controlling his emotions and his expressions, but Loti never felt things quite this strongly. Was this a vampire thing? Super-human strength? Super-human feelings? God, it was exhausting. Or was it just Wolf? Wolf feels things deeply; Wolf is a deeply feeling vampire. She giggled.

Wolf looked at her askance.

She shrugged, and he turned his aggravated attention back to Fiamette.

"Are you saying there's nothing wrong with me, or you can't do anything to help me?" Now his eye twitched.

Fiamette set her satchel on the coffee table, brushing some ash off her jeans, still refusing to meet his eyes. She glanced up at the tumbled bookshelf to the left of the fireplace. "This place could stand a little tidying up," she mused.

"Fiamette."

She snapped her head around at the sharp tone of his voice. His eyes drilled holes through her. "Okay, okay." She rubbed at the ash on her fingers. "You're not sick. You don't need me. You're evolving." She crossed her arms over her chest as if that was the end of matters. Leaning back into the couch, she stared back just as hard.

Guided kneaded her shoulders with his big hands. "Fia, please. What's happening to him? To them?" She closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side. Guided massaged her neck then leaned down and kissed her cheek. She swatted at him.

"Get off me, Grizzly Adams. Your beard tickles." But she smiled. Guided's brown hair hung in two long hanks over his chest, restrained by a red bandana tied around his forehead.

"He's evolving." Flapping a hand at Wolf, she shifted forward, arms still crossed over her chest then settled back. "I've seen this once before. He's changing like when he was turned. It'll be three nights." She peered around Wolf at Loti curled up in the other corner of the couch. Buried in the duvet, only her damp head was visible. "When did you two do it?"

Loti rolled her eyes and fought the smile. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with this." Fiamette grinned. "Sex is magic. It's a sharing of prana, and when metaphysical bonding is involved, you better believe it's important." She looked Loti up and down disdainfully. "You didn't know that?"

"I know that," Loti huffed, turning away to look at the fire Guided built while Fiamette examined Wolf. It crackled merrily as if mocking them.

"Okay, let's work through this." Guided squeezed Fiamette's shoulders. She fidgeted under his ministrations. "You've seen this before? When?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, looking down at her hands, twisting a silver ring round and round her index finger. "I'm not really this much of a bitch." She peeked up at Loti, and then braved a look at Wolf. He stayed quiet during the whole uncomfortable exchange. "I can't tell you who it was. Patient confidentiality and all." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Wolf. I know you must feel miserable. I'm being catty." She glanced up at Guided, who smiled that gentle smile of his, nodding.

"You're going to be fine. You're evolving. Have you ever heard of the warm-blooded vampire legends? Out of Australia?" She shifted under Wolf's cold stare. "Well, that's what's happening. I've seen it. After three nights, you'll be fine. Only you'll have a beating heart and warm blood."

"What will that mean for me?" Wolf came to life; his mouth softening and eyes alert.

"You'll still be vampire, only warm-blooded. You'll have the same powers, as far as I know, and you'll still need to feed on blood. I'm not sure what the ramifications are. The vampire I saw only stuck around for a few more days." She swallowed, her eyes darting to the ring. "I never saw him again." She was quiet for a moment and then shook herself. "The one thing I do know is that you're vulnerable to heart injury now."

"Like a steak to the heart kind of vulnerable?" Loti sat up straighter.

Fiamette held her gaze nodding. "Exactly like that, but I can't be sure that other materials wouldn't do the trick." She looked off into space as if considering something. "I don't know about bullets. I think as long as they don't hit the heart, and they're not silver, of course, you should be okay."

"What else does this mean?" Wolf sounded calmer. His shoulders eased, and he settled back into the couch as he put his arm around Loti.

"I don't know, Wolf. I just don't know," she conceded. "I told you, I didn't see the vampire this happened to ever again."

"Why haven't you told us this before?" Calisto spoke from the stool beside Korinna.

Fiamette gathered her bag, not looking at him. "There wasn't any reason to."

"We should get going," Korinna piped up. "Dawn is less than an hour away."

Wolf looked alarmed. "You can't leave her alone with me." He looked to Guided and Calisto, but it was Fiamette who reassured him.

"It'll be fine, Wolf." She emphasized fine. "You won't hurt her." She patted his leg. "It's okay."

"But tonight I . . . "

"You what? Attacked her?" Fiamette leaned over his lap. "Are you scared of him, Loti?"

"No," she exclaimed, wiggling her arms free of the blanket. "I don't know why he's so worried. He didn't hurt me."

Fiamette's smile deepened as she leaned back in her seat. "See? She's not afraid."

Wolf scowled. "Help me out here, Calisto. I have been oscillating between violent outbursts, fatigue, obsessive impulses, and . . . " He glanced at Loti.

"Sex. He wants sex. A lot. That's what he won't say," Loti chimed in.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "And blood. I could drain you."

"No, you won't. And you wouldn't say _sex_ because you thought it would _embarrass_ me. It doesn't embarrass me, Wolf. Sex is the last thing in the world that would embarrass me."

He threw his hands up and rose from the couch. "Fine. Have it your way. Stay. Alone with a sick vampire. Don't say I didn't warn you." He stalked toward the bathroom, his irritation buzzing in her head.

"It would be worse if she left, Wolf. I do know that. She's the only thing keeping you remotely calm right now." Fiamette swung her satchel over her shoulder as she stood.

Calisto cupped Korinna's elbow, guiding her off the stool and toward the front door.

"What do you mean?" Wolf stopped with his back turned to everyone.

"I mean if she were to go with us right now, you would lose your shit. In a matter of minutes. Tell me—" Fiamette cocked her hip out.

_Seems to be her signature pose,_ Loti thought.

_It is_. Wolf's voice echoed in her head.

"What have you been thinking about this entire time we've been talking?"

Wolf stared at his bare feet, as everyone waited for him to answer.

"You don't have to say it. I will. You've been thinking about her: her blood, her sex, her safety, her body, her gorgeous eyes—"

"Enough. You've made your point," he growled.

Loti rolled her eyes. He couldn't see it, but he knew it. Adjusting the waistband of his hemp pants, he pivoted around to face them.

"If she wasn't here, you'd tear this place apart and fly off into the sunrise looking for her." Fiamette picked up two items she hadn't put back in her bag. "Here." She tossed an amber vial at Loti, who caught it deftly. "Feed him. Sleep with him. It will keep him calm." She stepped up to Loti. "Well, calmer. Keep your strength up. Do you have enough food?"

"I just brought her more than enough for three days." Korinna held the door open.

"Good. Take three drops of that tincture in water three times a day."

Loti turned the plain glass vial over. "What is it?"

"Nettles, Vitamin B-12 and something else. I forget, but it'll counteract the fatigue from blood loss and help regenerate blood cells, too." She slipped a leather thong over Loti's head. Loti fingered the tear-dropped shaped glass vial that hung from it, tucking her chin to get a better look.

"That is pixie glass. It's got a blend of essential oils and a spell for calm in it." Fiamette winked. "Shake it and you'll smell it."

Loti did. "There's sandalwood in this."

"Yes, and other stuff. Lavender, blue tansy, a few others."

"Thank you." Loti sniffed the vial, turning a beautiful smile on Fiamette.

"Yeah, well, you're welcome." She spun on her heel and sauntered toward the door. "Face it, Wolf." Looking over her shoulder, her voice was syrupy. "You need her."

Wolf's hands balled into fists. "Two more nights?" he said through clenched teeth.

"Yes. Two more nights." Fiamette tempered her tone.

With a visible effort, Wolf eased his hands. "Thank you, Fiamette. I'm sorry I was rude."

"No, you're not." She hooted with laughter as she passed Korinna.

Guided shook his head with an amused grin, shrugging his shoulders at Wolf in a watchya-gonna-do gesture. "You two are like oil and water, ya know?" He slapped Wolf on the back then gripped him in a bear hug. "You're too much alike."

Wolf hugged him back, unabashed. When they separated, they shared an appreciative look. Wolf's love for his friend mixed with his exasperation for Fiamette in Loti's chest, and she sighed. He glanced at her, still curled up in the corner of the couch, blanket now around her waist. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

_Finally,_ she thought at him. Stepping up to the couch behind her, he held her shoulders. Patting Wolf's back and pecking Loti on the cheek, Guided walked over to Korinna and took her hand, kissing it like she was Snow White and he was Prince Charming. She laughed and they left, shutting the door behind them.

"Someone tried to kill her, Calisto." Wolf didn't turn around.

"What did he look like? What was he?" Calisto came up beside Wolf.

"A shapeshifter. I didn't recognize him."

"He was outside my house the other night as a raven," Loti added.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Wolf asked in alarm.

"It didn't come up, and I'm telling you now."

"How do you know it was the same person, Loti?" Calisto leaned his hands on the back of the couch, his aura too tight to his body.

She puffed up her cheeks and blew out her breath. "I don't know. I just . . . know it. Like the way I know you haven't fed well enough tonight."

Calisto's eyes widened. When he recovered, he came around the couch and sat down close to her, taking both of her hands in his.

"Precious woman." He planted tender kisses on each of her knuckles.

Loti glanced astonished eyes up at Wolf, but his eyes were closed.

"When this is all over, we're going to take you to see Dayalananda. He will be so delighted to meet you." Calisto kissed her cheeks one at a time, and his eyes shone when he pulled back.

"The sun is coming up, Calisto," Wolf said.

Calisto nodded and got up, lingering, still holding her hands. "What I don't understand is why he tried to kill you. I thought whoever wants you, wanted you alive. Wanted you for your abilities." He gazed off into the imaginary distance. "I don't understand." He shook his head, inhaling through his nose noisily, letting it out in a gush. "I will look into it, Wolf."

"You might want to contact our old friends from the revolution."

"You think so? It's been awhile since we've had contact with them."

"Just a thought. They might know something. Or at least could help us identify the body. It's still at the bottom of the mountain."

"I'll take care of it." Calisto floated to the door. "Take care of yourselves."

When he was gone, Wolf brought her hand to his mouth, kissing each finger.

"You didn't like it when Fiamette said you needed me." Loti lowered her voice.

He averted his eyes, instead pressing his lips to her palm. He was good at not thinking, so there were no thoughts to read. His mind may have been blank, but he couldn't hide the frustration and affection or the apprehension filtered through sheer wonder. Anger laid low in his belly, ready to pounce on anything that threatened. Loti stood up on the couch, making her a few inches taller than him.

"I'm not a threat, Wolf."

Heat radiated off his evolving body. Fisting a handful of her golden brown hair, he buried his nose in it.

"I know." He breathed in her scent.
Chapter 23

Alone in bed, Wolf sat up with a start, throwing the covers off.

"Loti," he bellowed.

"Here. I'm in the living room." Her gentle voice floated in from the next room.

He narrowed his eyes and braced himself against the intense hunger, the driving thirst. _This has to stop or I'm going to drink her dry. How could I have fed just before passing out and wake up hungry?_ He rubbed his face with both hands, then slapped his thighs. _I don't like this. I don't like anything about this._

"Gee, thanks," Loti yelled.

He snorted. Snatching the hemp pants from the floor, he slipped them over his bare backside as he stood, swaying. _Damn._ He rubbed his temples, squinting his eyes. _What's it going to take?_

"Another night," Loti called.

"Get out of my head." Huffing through his teeth, he beat his chest with both fists in rapid succession. _Blood. Her blood. Now_. The thick, rich slide of it down his throat. Breathing heavily, he leaned one forearm against the cool rock wall, the fire inside him raging. Only quenched when he drank her, fucked her. He reared back and punched the wall, granite flakes and rock dust raining to the floor. As he undulated a war cry to the ceiling, he shook out his aching hand.

Loti appeared in the doorway. "Here, I'm here." Her voice was vulnerable in the wake of his scream.

"Go away," he thundered, whipping around, fangs bared.

She stepped back, eyes wide. She had to feel his raging thirst, his anger, his helplessness, and the knowledge fanned his fury.

"I don't need anybody," he snarled through clamped teeth.

But as he clung to his fury, he bore witness to her cringe. Her eyes darted around, one hand hanging on the door jam. Her fingers worried the cherry wood trim. Her face shifted from scared to uncertain, and then she straightened up and pulled her shoulders back, dark lashes framing determined eyes. She didn't say a word, just stared at him. As he growled low in his chest, he lunged at her with vampire speed. She screwed up her face and hunkered down. They slammed into the living room rug, knocking the breath out of her. She wheezed, but didn't struggle.

"You still feel safe?" he sneered into her ear. Her heart knocked against his chest, the acrid fear filling the back of his throat. With disoriented eyes, he crawled backward as she rolled over on her side and held herself with shaky arms. She coughed and wheezed, trying to catch her breath. When his foot touched the wall, he crouched down, watching her—wants and needs warred in his gut. _Feed. Fuck. Run._

"Loti, you need to get out of here." His voice was just above a whisper.

She shook her head, her back to him. "I'm not going anywhere," she said through the wheezes.

He snarled, "You're an idiot." Sniffing the air like a dog, his pupils dilated until all the brown melted away. He inhaled sharply. Pure sex, pungent, ripe, his. Wolf froze as she twisted around, turning glowing eyes on him. They had their own effervescent light. His pulse banged in his straining neck as Loti bared invisible fangs at him. He lunged, this time landing like a panther on the balls of his feet and tips of his fingers, his tense body hovering over hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti stared into Wolf's crazy, black, bottomless eyes. This wasn't the first time she'd seen this in the past 24 hours, and she wondered how many times they would have to ride this rollercoaster. Her confidence waning, she wished she'd asked Fiamette if it got better or worse. But she was in it, and although she could be insecure, downright needy at times, she wasn't a coward. Pressing her chest against Wolf's, she pushed up with deliberate slowness.

Wolf growled in her head as he pushed back, just as slow and steady. He wasn't even trying. The ache in her ribs from his first tackle told her he didn't have to, and she was lucky nothing was broken. He stopped, his eyes betraying his inner battle. He wasn't thinking—d _amn, he's good at that—_ but she could feel the physical clench in his chest and the sick flip of his stomach. _God, the icy fury._ Teeth chattering and with little gasps, she strained against him. Suddenly, he smashed his mouth over hers. His teeth ground her lips painfully into her own teeth, blood oozing over her tongue. He groaned, his tongue darting to lap the blood.

She licked the blood from her bruised lip, ran her tongue over his mouth. He leapt off. When she gathered her wits and glanced around the room, she found him on the other side of the kitchen counter, his shoulders hunched, his core wound tight.

"I don't need you," he spit.

_No, I know_. She jutted out her chin at him.

Doubt clouded his eyes, and it flashed so briefly in her solar plexus, that she couldn't be sure. _Wish I could do that._ Wolf vaulted over the counter and out the front door, Loti crying out at the rending in her chest. The invisible wires wrapped around her heart squeezed, strained, and vibrated.

"Fuck you," she screamed after him.

He flew fast and high. She knew by the incredible ripping in her chest, the depth of the agony, and the direction of the pull. She coughed as bile rose in her throat, crawling toward the bathroom. Cold sweat ran down her back, and she fought her heaving stomach. _Hold on. Almost there._ She made it to the toilet, trembling hands shoving the seat up. Pressing her cheek to the cold porcelain rim, she sagged against the bowl as the magical wires imbedded themselves into the smooth muscle. The green chakra strained between them, razor thin.

Metallic saliva welled in her mouth; she spat it into the water. She huffed a weak "Ha" at the bizarre thought she had: _what kind of septic did he install?_ Her stomach heaved and yellow curried mush sprayed across the water and porcelain. She wretched again and again until all that was left was bile and stringy snot. She spit the sour taste out of her mouth as white hot unthinkable pain tried to excise her heart. _Please._ She panted against it, her thoughts spiraling and jagging. _Rather die. Rather bash my brains out._

She screamed with all her might, tears on her cheeks as she banged the side of her head against the rim until she saw stars. She did it again—harder.

White rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits—

_What the hell are you doing?_ Wolf's thoughts were indistinguishable from her own. His panic was like a chemical burn in her head when she didn't respond. But she didn't know it was his. She slammed her head against the toilet again, trying to knock lose the hurting.

_Stop._ His mental scream reverberated in her head. She banged it again.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Blood trickled into her ear.

BASH

She saw stars. _Good_

BASH

Open the door, where's the door down the rabbit hole

The pain in her chest eased, and she sighed, shuddering as she collapsed to the white tile floor.

_Good_.

Blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf yelled, "Fuck" at Loti's limp, rag doll form on the floor, her hair sticky with blood splayed around her. She didn't move. Throwing open the vanity, he grabbed a bottle of witch hazel, yanked the cap off, and squatted by Loti. Thick blood hid the wound. She must have busted her skull pretty good because there was a lot of blood soaked into her hair and pooled on the floor. The witch hazel glubbed out of the bottle as he scrubbed at the tacky blood on her scalp above her ear, but there was no wound. _What the fuck?_ She had healed herself. Was it part of the bond? Would she have vampire powers? She groaned _._ Wolf hunkered lower, setting the plastic bottle on the cold tile, his hands dangling between his knees as he watched her eyelashes bat against her pale cheek. She grimaced. A fluttery hand dabbed above her ear.

"It's healed," he said in a flat tone. "That was fucked up. What you did."

"What?" Her voice was thick.

"Busting your head open like that. That was stupid."

She pushed herself away from the tile, squeezing her eyes tight, gritting her teeth. "I . . . don't know why . . . " She cleared her throat, hocked up phlegm, and spit it in the bowl, splatters of vomit around the rim and on the lid.

He'd felt pretty sick at the excruciating cutting sensation in his chest. He reached over her and smacked the lever. Water rushed out, the roar filling the small room. Pulling a length of toilet paper off the roll, Loti wiped at the rim and tossed it in. Wolf held still, just watched. His mind was blank, until he realized she was crying. The release valve on the lid he'd clamped over his boiling thoughts rattled with her feelings: the fear, the sadness, the love— _what?_

How could she love me? Insane woman.

"Pffpt."

He jerked his chin back. Steam hissed a warning in his head, the valve shaking violently _. I hate it. I hate her emotions—they're so uncensored_. He hated the way those feelings mixed inside his chest and stomach, making his heart heave. He hated the way he wanted her. He hated _that_ he wanted her. He hated that he couldn't leave her without feeling like his heart was being torn out. He hated that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He hated the softness of her inner arm and the same tender skin on the inside of her thighs. _I hate that I crave you._

Loti kept her eyes on her task, only the increasing shake of her shoulders told him she heard his thoughts.

I never wanted to bond with anyone—ever. I watched my mother die of some white man disease rather than give her my blood. It didn't matter that she didn't want it—I wouldn't be tied to my own mother.

He didn't feel guilt. He didn't feel remorse. Regret, yes. A well-worn sadness, yes. Those were the emotions Loti sensed. That's how his mother raised him. Practical. Self-sufficient. Selfish. To be a Wolf clan leader. The warrior clan. Loti wiped the last of the grisly splatter and dropped the clump of tissue. She lowered the seat and folded her arms over it, resting her head on her forearms. Closing her eyes, she took several shuddery breaths.

Of course she heard all his thoughts. He wondered why they couldn't shield from each other. Bond-mates should be able to pick and choose.

_That would be nice._ Her thought drifted through his mind.

He came to life then, shifting forward and running a hand over her bloody hair. She didn't respond, just kept breathing, extra long breaths. Regret. Shame. Fear. He knew those were his. She had nothing to be ashamed of. He was the prick—the 500-year-old bastard, who didn't need anybody.

I understand.

She might as well have buried a knife in his throat. He coughed.

She lifted her head, opening red-rimmed eyes. "Who do you think you are?" The pain in her voice as raw and as uncensored as the pain in her heart. Trembling like a Chihuahua, her eyes bulged as she got up. "I am not a piece of precious fucking china that's going to shatter into a million pieces because you can't let yourself love me." She hunched over, holding her stomach like something might fall out. "Give me a little more credit than that. I killed my husband, remember?"

The pride radiated from her. The fuck-you implied in every syllable knocked him off balance, and he had to catch himself with one hand. She left him stunned, staring wide-eyed at her shuffling, retreating backside.
Chapter 24

Loti collapsed face down on the bed, blood and all. She tucked her hands under her chest. _Why did getting close to someone always hurt so muc_ h? And she, like an idiot, embraced it. With her family, with her boyfriends, her husband. With Wolf. She was a masochistic optimist— _what's the definition of crazy_? _Doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results._

Flopping her head to the side, she watched Wolf step through the door, her eyes blank. Now he'd apologize, hold her, make love to her. She stuck out her tongue, "Thpppptt" and turned her head the other way, studying the cave wall. This was downright abusive. He oscillated, push back or pull close? She didn't care anymore.

Not true.

"Argh." She buried her face in the covers. "How do we live with this? I can't even be alone in my head." She shoved herself away from the bed. And under it all, under their thoughts and feelings, was Wolf's almost constant blood-lust. They got mabye an hour or so of relative peace before it heated up, driving them both nutty.

"Do it already." She sat back on her heels, one spent hand braced on a thigh, the other holding her forehead. At his mental stiffening, she lashed out. "No. Enough," she commanded. "No more." She tittered off-kilter. _It hurts 'cause you're fighting it._ Inhaling, she opened her legs in a v-straddle, and leaned forward onto her elbows. Closing her eyes, she used her breath to soften the tense muscles, sinking little by little between her spread legs until her chest rested on the bed, elbows bent like goal posts.

The bed creaked and shifted. Wolf's hand was like a personal furnace on her back. Little by little, she lengthened and elevated her spine, pulling deep abdominals toward her tailbone for support. Before she was fully upright, Wolf urged her onto her back with his hands and his unfettered needs claimed them both.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A moment of peace. Loti unclipped the quick-connects that held her Thermarest sleeping pad to her backpack. Not a perfect solution, but it would do. She stretched her arms overhead, feeling surprisingly good. The shower helped, and, she suspected, so had the herbal tincture that tasted like mold and peppermint. She sucked her tongue, wrinkling her nose. _Wonder why she put tea tree oil in it?_ Or was that eucalyptus? _Nasty_. Wolf was passed out in bed, sleeping fitfully. One more day and night and this would all be over. She pulled a blue, fleece v-neck over her head, snaking her arms through the sleeves and hooking her thumbs in the little holes at the cuffs.

She shook the pixie glass, sniffing it. _Nice_. Tucking the pad under one arm, she trotted to the front door and into the foyer that was black with just a smudge of the muted light from the living room. She closed the door behind her, even though she knew the angle of the stairs and placement of the door prevented sunlight from reaching into the lair. Hurrying, she paused at the trap door, squinting to see the spring latch Wolf showed her earlier. Annoyed with the dark, she felt with one hand, her fingers catching in the gap. _Ah_. She pulled hard and the trap door swung up, the sunlight blinding her. She squeezed her eyes against it, red blobs melting and reforming behind her eyelids. She was a mole emerging from her tunnel at the wrong time of day, but the sun felt so good on her face.

Not in a hurry, she opened her eyes to a clear blue sky guarded by a network of bare branches. They were deep in the mountain forest. Loti grabbed the edge of the door frame to hoist herself up and out into the early morning light.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Inhaling, her breath whispered like the ocean in a conch shell. Her arms reached skyward, her head dipping back and her long hair brushing the tops of her buttocks. She arched her back and opened her arms in languid circles, lifting her heart center higher. Exhaling, her arms brushed by her hips as she sank her torso toward her bent knee like she was moving through water. She flowed through her yoga practice in silence for long minutes. Morning bird calls blended with the cool breezes and the whoosh of her breath. She inhaled gratitude for this moment, the now. She exhaled the judgment and criticism of herself, of Wolf, that welled up. The air leaving her lungs shook with the heaviness and left her lighter, more open, and more grounded. Pausing with emptiness, savoring the stillness, tingles broke out all over her body. A blissful smile spread across her tranquil features. By the time she rested on her back in final relaxation, she felt a whole hell of a lot better.

There you are.

Her eyes flew open. It was _that_ voice from the shower. She scrambled to her feet, grabbing her pad and ran for the trap door. Had she wandered beyond the wards? She hadn't gone that far, just to the rock outcropping where there was a soft bed of moss. She should have stayed under the oak, but she had opted for the patch of unimpeded sunlight. Holding her breath, she searched for the handle buried under the moss. _Where was it? There._ She heaved with all her might.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Once inside the lair with doors locked behind her, she dropped to her knees, heart slamming. Anxiety and fear bunched in her belly. What had she done? Wolf warned her to stay inside, and if she had to go up, not to go too far. She thought he said the outcropping was the boundary; maybe she misunderstood. C _alm down_. _Breathe_. She sucked a deep lung full of air held it for the count of four before letting it whoosh out all at once. When she could breathe, she reached out with that sixth sense, listening for the voice, patting around for the tell-tale magic. She would never forget the ominous and bleak energy that had touched her. She knew that it wasn't _just_ Patrick. It was something—or somebody—wrapped in Patrick's energy, and she hoped her surrogate grandfather was still alive. She finished her mental scan, satisfied he wasn't with her anymore.

Maybe she didn't understand the limits or what she'd been feeling? Sitting on the floor, she leaned against the bottom of the breakfast counter, her head tilted against the wood paneling. When she closed her eyes, two crisscrossing pearlescent tubes of energy appeared. They intersected right in front of her, but when she opened her eyes to get a better look, they were gone. She closed her eyes, focused, and there they were again.

What were they? With a disorienting wrench, she was inside the tube, standing at an intersection. It arched around her, bathing her in the milky-pearl glow. A quiet thrumming emanated from the walls as she brushed her fingertips along it. She met a soft resistance that yielded as if she could push her fingers through, so she tried. The wall glopped and sucked as her hand worked its way deeper. The substance melded to her hand.

Loti?

_Wolf?_ But he was asleep.

I'm awake. Are you okay? Hey, open your eyes.

Disoriented, Loti opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her lips and tongue moved, and she felt the vibration of air over vocal chords, but no sound reached her ears. Closing her mouth, she pondered what to do. How had she gotten here? Where was here? Closing her eyes, a ghost of Wolf's lair appeared, and as she relaxed into the focus, the image solidified. Wolf squatted in front of her body slumping against the base of the counter, her limbs loose and her face slack. She focused on her body, and with a painful gasp, sat up, struggling as if it was her first breath ever.

"You weren't breathing, Loti," Wolf's eyes were wild. His blood-lust saturated her body, her arms darting around his neck as it faintly registered that she hadn't felt his feelings in the tube. Now that he wasn't fighting the urges, the anger was gone, and that was pure relief.

_You scared me. What happened?_ He breathed into her neck. His reaction to her smell hardened her nipples. He scooped her up and in three giant steps, had her in the bed.

"Wait," she pulled away from him. "How are you awake? It's morning."

The skin crinkled around his eyes and mouth. "It's night. I just woke up."

Her jaw unhinged. "I just woke up and went outside in the sunshine. It's morning." The night sky full of twinkling stars laughed down at her. Wolf's hungry eyes loomed close and she touched his clenched jaw. For one split second, she thought about stopping him as he crawled over her. She caught the clench of his lust as his biceps and the inside of her thighs twitched.
Chapter 25

They lay in a sweaty heap, the stars winking down at them. Wolf's warm tongue worked Loti's neck.

What the hell happened to the day?

"Do you think you passed out?" A drop of worry hung on his voice.

She shook her head. "No, I went somewhere." She told him about the energy intersection in his lair. He turned to his side, drawing the covers up over their hips as she rolled to face him. Palming the sweat off the back of his neck, he brushed his black hair forward over one shoulder.

"You don't seem very concerned," Loti said, running her fingers over his forearm.

He shrugged. "I think a lot of strange things are in store for us."

"As if all this hasn't already been strange?" Loti felt his forehead. "Your fever's breaking. You don't feel as hot."

He grunted, grabbed her hand, and pressed the palm to his lips. The moment felt tenuous, like a soap bubble about to burst. She wanted to grab it, hold onto it, but instead she sighed, sinking into the pillow.

"Maybe you were there longer than you thought?" he told her palm.

"It felt like a minute." She was emphatic. "Hardly time to orient myself."

He kissed the tips of her fingers, one at time.

"There's something else I need to tell you." She told him about going topside and the voice.

Wolf stiffened and anger billowed like a shroud of fog into Loti's mind.

"I'm sorry. I needed fresh air—to clear my head." His lecture deflected, he slumped to his back, dropping her hand and rubbing his brow.

"I'm not angry with you." His eyes screwed up like he had a headache. "I'm sick of being cooped up too. I had a life..." he trailed off, but it was in his thoughts.

"Before I came along," Loti finished. She curled the hand he abandoned to the base of her throat. Abruptly, she sat up and snatched the extra pillow away from him, stuffing it behind her back. When she settled into sitting, she got very busy picking at a hangnail, the covers pooling around her waist. Wolf propped himself up on his elbow. His head fell back, the lines around his eyes blurring.

"So Patrick found you. I wonder how." He got quiet, and Loti peeked at him. She followed his gaze to the tree branches swaying back and forth in a silent wind over the stars.

"I don't think it's Patrick, or at least not just him. I think there's someone else behind this, and I'm afraid they've killed him." Her voice quivered as she spread her hands over her lap. "There's no mark on me. He didn't get to me that way."

"I think he—or whoever it is—found you by your energy. It's like a siren's song . . . a lighthouse beacon calling everyone home." His voice dropped to a murmur. "Here's shelter. Here's everything you need." When his eyes darted toward her, she cast wet eyes down.

"How he penetrated the wards," Wolf shrugged, "I don't know."

Fingers still picking at each other in her lap, she dared a furtive glance out of the corner of her eye. His lopsided smile stilled her hands and her head. "We couldn't hide from him forever."

"What does he want?" Loti flopped her arms to her sides, fingers curled in exasperation.

Wolf sat up onto one hip, the duvet slipping off revealing his mood. She let her gaze linger, wondering if she could risk . . . one more thing. He grinned like a teenage boy, all proud and uncertain.

She granted him a slow smile, full of promises, as he brushed questioning fingertips over her bare nipple. When Loti sucked in a breath, he eased over her, his hands on either side of her hips and feather kissed her bottom lip. Unexpected shyness burned her cheeks as she bit the lip he kissed. She hoped and hoped and hoped. He stopped her thoughts with a humble, supplicant's kiss, like he thought she had the power to grant him something he wanted. She'd give him whatever he wanted just so he'd kiss her like that again. Slipping a hand to the nape of his neck, she kissed him back, offering him everything she had. Eager hands slid her hips under him.

"No." She stopped him with a gentle hand on his stomach.

His heated eyes wavered—tender and exposed. He eased back as she gathered her legs under her.

"Lay down," she whispered. He raised one eyebrow and she laughed. He didn't say anything, didn't need to do anything but smile that heart-breaking smile. As he complied with her command, he watched her with precarious eyes. Kneeling beside him, her round, bare backside resting on her heels, her eyes wandered over his thighs to his groin that twitched at her attention. Anticipation, trepidation, and that damn hope in her heart, she traced a finger along a scar from his thigh to just below his rib cage. When she found his eyes again, she held her breath at the wonder in them. In one liquid movement, her backside rose from her heels and a knee swept across his waist.

He cupped her hips with warm hands as she settled her sex on top of his. Closing his eyes, he moved against her, holding her still. She moaned, her chin dropping to her chest as she caught her breath, trying not to lose herself. To keep her head above the waves, she focused on the glide of his warm skin under her palms as she slid her hands over his arms. Pausing, she rolled her hips to the side in half a figure eight. His lips parted. She finished the move, and he groaned. There were no thoughts in his head, but she felt him holding onto what she wanted _._ She leaned down, her lips brushing his nipple.

Please.

His eyes widened, and his hands climbed her ribs until his palms held the soft mounds of her, thumbs rolling peaked nipples. She arched her neck, her open mouth surrendering sighs. He held her in a determined and unshakeable way as he sat up. Lifting her knees to balance herself as he moved, her feet slid around and under his backside. He wrapped himself around her, holding her, claiming her, needing her . . .

That.

Under the lust, under his careful control, she found what she was looking for. He turned his eyes away as his chin slid down her chest, kissing a line between her breasts. Her eyes fluttered as she lifted her head, panting; her soft belly quivered against his firm one.

"I can't get close enough to you," he whispered. His mouth found a nipple, and he took his time rolling it around his tongue, drawing gently. Sliding his hands back down to her hips, he ground himself against her swollen lips.

"Wolf," she moaned, dropping her cheek to the top of his head.

"You are completely mine," he breathed. Not what he really wanted to say, she knew. She could feel it.

Please.

He pressed his thighs against her back, bracing himself as he lifted her hips at the same time, his shaft sliding against everything. Squeezing her hip bones tighter and lowering her onto him, he slid exquisitely inside, inch by inch until she thought he was as far as he could go. As he relaxed his grip, however, she gasped as he pressed against the deepest places. She put her arms around his neck and lifted up, her belly clenching. When she lowered herself down, just as deliberately, he shuddered.

"Loti," he murmured. "Faster."

"No," she exhaled. Everything touched. Everything warm. Everything wet. Everything full. She moved so slow, she almost couldn't stand it herself. He held her so close her ribs ached.

Let me feel it, Wolf.

He growled into her chest, letting her draw it out—her legs trembling with each slow lift, each careful push. Her soul and body trembled together, and she closed her eyes against the crash of the wave— _I love you. I love you. I love you._

How it could be, she didn't know. One shuddering sob escaped her throat. He held her tighter, tighter against the building pressure. Warm love spilled over her as the orgasm rolled through them. _He_ couldn't say it, couldn't even think, but he could feel it.
Chapter 26

"We need to find him." Calisto sat across from Katie, tapping his fingers on the table. Margarite covered his hand with hers, and he glanced up at her with a small, grateful smile.

"Yes. I still don't think he's behind this. At least he's not a willing participant, Calisto." Katie stood up. "I wish we'd been able to break through that Faraday cage. I know we're missing something. I just don't know what." She cleared the glasses from her kitchen table with a practiced sweep as Margarite helped her load the dishwasher.

"Katie, I know you don't want to believe—" The gray-haired man at the table started.

"Richard, I'm warning you. Just drop it." Glass clanked against glass. "Until I have irrefutable proof, I do not believe Patrick would hurt Loti. He's known her as long as I have, loves her like a granddaughter." Katie slammed the dishwasher shut.

Richard averted his eyes as he stood up, a proud tilt to his chin. "Well, I'm heading home. We're going to need every ounce of our energy before this is all said and done." Richard walked stiffly in his wide-wale cords to the foyer, gathering his jacket and fedora.

"Richard, I'm sorry," Katie trotted after him, one hand twisting her earring.

"We need to get back, Margarite. Loti and Wolf should be there."

"You're dying to know what's happened with them." Margarite came up behind him and kissed his cheek as she slipped a hand down the front of his shirt. He grabbed it.

"Yes, I am, love. Do you know what this could mean?" He floated out of the chair.

"Yes." Her whisper spoke of hope and fear.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti settled into her camp chair, agitated feet rocking her back and forth. Mitch had made a celebratory gift of the chair, presenting it like an award while most of the tribe gathered around. A few were out looking for some plant that would just be starting to grow because for some reason Loti didn't understand, it was best when gathered at night. Wolf sat next to her on the ground, staring into the fire, worry buzzing in her solar plexus. She stroked his arm, and he gave her half of a smile.

Stop.

"Help!" A woman's shrill scream penetrated the forest. "Somebody help us! Oh god! Help!" Wolf leapt out of his chair and streaked away, Guided and several tribesmen ran after him. Loti scrambled to her feet, Mitch beside her.

"Who was that?" Loti asked Mitch as they jogged through the woods together.

"Peacepipe." And Mitch picked up her pace.

Professor's partner. The wide, well-used path led them to a crashing waterfall. Peacepipe knelt by a small boy on the ground by the boulders at the edge of the water. Loti pushed through the men to where Wolf and Hammer squatted by the child. His prana gathered in his head.

"No, no, no, no," Peacepipe whined, reaching out to touch her son.

"Don't touch his head, Peacepipe," Wolf murmured.

She clutched her helpless hands against her throat and rocked. Guided put an arm around Professor, who squatted on jumpy toes. Loti knelt beside Wolf.

"His prana," she whispered in his ear.

He closed his eyes, so he could see what she saw.

"Hold his energy." Fiamette's voice startled Loti.

"How?"

"Here, like this." She grabbed Loti's hand, and Loti felt like she was falling as a candlelit room surrounded them. Fiamette, dressed in a full skirt, held an old man's head in her lap. His energy caught in Fiamette's mind, and when Loti blinked, she was back by the roaring waterfall.

"Just do it," Fiamette barked.

Loti shoved herself between Guided and Wolf to the boys head, drawing it into her lap.

"Loti, don't. His neck could be broken." Guided squeezed her arm.

"It's not, but his skull is." Warm blood soaked her jeans as she settled his head in her lap. His broken skull shifted under her trembling hands as she took a deep breath and pushed. With a meaty slide, the bone clicked into place. His prana coalesced in his head. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on shutting the door so his life force couldn't leave. It wasn't hard, just awkward, like writing with the wrong hand.

"What are you doing?" Peacepipe's voice shook.

"I'm keeping his soul in his body until we can figure out what to do."

"Loti," Wolf was behind her.

"Hold me, Wolf," she said. She didn't know how she knew, but she felt it was very important.

As soon as his arms were around her, her spine vibrated like an unbalanced washing machine. Holding onto the boy's prana with all her might, she gritted her teeth, and she and Wolf lit up like an incandescent spotlight from the inside out. The crowd gasped.

Loti couldn't see. Wolf's presence engulfed her—his heart, his mind, his soul touching every part of her. Stunned by the rawness, she forgot what they were doing. They vibrated in harmony, one moving the other into a newer, stronger entrainment where there were no thoughts, no images, just a naked revelation. Something pure and good poured through their heart center, down her arms, and out of her hands. It soaked into the boy, filling him from the inside out. His skull knitted back together, the broken capillaries and damaged brain tissue repairing themselves. Her body shuddered with the unbearable voltage and her teeth chattered, but as long as Wolf held on, she thought she could take it. The light whooshed out of her and Wolf, bleaching the boy's doll-face, and her body hummed with relief. For a moment he glowed phosphorescent, and then the light shrank away from the surface until it winked out. The boy stirred in her lap.

"Momma?" he whimpered.

"Buddy? Oh, my god, Buddy?" Peacepipe held her face too close to his, squeezing his cheeks between her hands.

His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked rapidly at his mother. "What happened?"

"You fell, little lion man, you fell," she sobbed, her voice shaking with relief.

"Hey, guy." Professor looked at Loti with grateful eyes, his goatee soaked with tears. "Thank you."

Loti's chest trembled. "You're welcome," she whispered.

"Hold on a second, Prof," Wolf said softly. He reached around Loti to touch Buddy's head.

Buddy looked up at Loti with a grave face. "Can I get up?"

"Not yet. Let's make sure you're all in one piece." Wolf smiled, his deft hands examined Buddy's head as he took note of Loti's blood-drenched jeans.

"He looks okay. Feels okay." He looked around at Hammer. "What do you think?"

Hammer hunkered down and slid his hands over Buddy's crew cut, feeling and looking. He closed his eyes, concentrating. "Loti, what do you see?"

His prana flowed steadily and everything felt right, although the colors were a little dull. "I think he's lost a lot of blood and needs a transfusion, or anything you can do healer-wise to build his blood."

"We can build his blood, but it takes time." He rubbed his chin. "But I think you and Wolf could take care of it much quicker."

Loti hesitated, staring at Hammer with uneasy eyes, and then nodded through the fog of fear. Wolf's chin rested on her shoulder, and he raised an eyebrow, but no thoughts or words passed between them, just a resigned resolve.

"We'll try." She wrapped her hands around Buddy's head, and he rolled his eyes up, trying to look at her.

"Relax," Wolf said with an attempt at cheery that sort of worked.

"I've got you. It's okay." Peacepipe held his hand between both of hers, kissing it.

"Okay, mom." He pursed his lips. "Would you, uh, stop kissing me?" The crowd chuckled.

Prof held up his three middle fingers, holding the pinky down with his thumb, like some sort of boy scout thing. Buddy's face broke out in a beautiful smile as Prof poked his son's arm with the three fingers. Buddy made the same gesture, and the two grinned like silly monkeys.

Loti didn't know where to focus. How did you build someone's blood?

"The heart or the bones—the marrow," Wolf said.

She tensed as Wolf folded his arms around her waist and tucked her between his knees. Even under the humming contentment of his presence, she couldn't help bristling at the naked rawness of it. The glow bloomed slowly and more controlled this time. The vibrations didn't rattle her bones, but she had to consciously avoid steeling herself against the merger. Beyond thought, beyond feeling, this new aberration of their bond shook their carefully crafted truce. As they came together, love and light slid from her hands into the boy, flowing to his green heart center and threading through the meridians to the center of his bones.

When she inhaled the light brightened. Her breath held while the energy oozed then she exhaled, and his colors brightened. Her belly expanded with full diaphragmatic breaths until she sensed his energy was back to normal. When she took her hands from his head, the light faded, but his prana flowed naturally. Wolf loosened his grip and backed away. She stayed put, steadying herself against the shocking jolt of loneliness. She thought she'd be relieved when he let go, but instead she felt deserted.

"I think that should do it," she said, her tone moderately flustered.

"Help him sit up," Guided told Peacepipe, but lifted questioning eyebrows at Loti.

"Prof, help him from this side." Hammer stood out of the way so Prof could get a grip on the boy's arm.

Loti gave Guided a brief nod.

"I'm okay." Buddy smacked at his dad's hand.

"Hey, give us a sec here," Prof chided.

Before Buddy was all the way up in a seated position, Peacepipe gripped him in a fierce hug. "What did I tell you about climbing on those wet rocks?" She wept into his hair.

"MooooOOOm," he whined.

"Hey, don't give your mother a hard time," Prof said. The little family huddled together. When Mitch knelt down next to them, Peacepipe pulled her into the hug. Sniffling, they stood up as one.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Peacepipe clung to Buddy's hand despite his incessant pleas to let go. They walked away—mother, father, and son holding hands—Mitch and several other tribesmen flanking them.

"Loti and Wolf?" Peacepipe stopped and turned back, never letting go of her son's hand, her chin trembling. "Thank you."

"You are so welcome," Wolf said.

Disoriented, Loti fumbled to her feet with the vaguest sense she was dangling over a precipice. "You're welcome."

Peacepipe smiled through streaming tears. "I make a mean country fry for breakfast—even throw in some bacon and green onions with the potatoes? If you'll be around, Loti."

"Thanks." Loti smiled back.

Peacepipe turned back to her family, tugging Buddy close. Loti watched them walk away until a strong pull in her chest whipped her around—Wolf was gone. It didn't cut deep like before, but it ached and burned. Where are you? No response. She took an uneasy step toward the waterfall. Wolf? The pulling turned into a rending, and she held her hand to her heart. Wolf. She stumbled into a boulder, catching herself with one hand

Put up your shields. Now, his voice commanded in her head.

"Loti? What's wrong?" Fiamette asked from behind her.

"Wolf's moving away." Loti leaned against the boulder, her breath ragged.

"Asshole," Fiamette muttered.

Loti looked up at her with wild eyes. "He needs some space." Me, too. She grimaced. "It hurts, Fiamette. How do I shield?"

She knelt down and grasped Loti's hand with both of hers. "Here, like this."

Loti wasn't in the woods anymore, but in an ornately decorated bedroom. Fiamette wore that same skirt and bodice as she perched on the edge of a four poster bed clutching her heart. The air buzzed with a white noise.

"It's like a Faraday cage—do you know what that is?" The Fiamette on the bed looked right at Loti.

Surprisingly, she did. David had worked for the government in intelligence, and since he couldn't talk about how he saved the world from evil, he talked about the science behind what he did. "They shield what's inside from external radiation. Or block signals from coming in or going out."

"Good. Think of yourself and Wolf as emitters. Got it? Use that understanding to create a mesh of energy around yourself to block his signal. Focus on the heart center; that should be good enough and won't take as much effort. It won't block his thoughts, but most of the pull you're feeling."

Loti imagined a mesh cage around her heart and imbued it with light and energy. The fresh pain faded to a dull ache.

"Better?" Fiamette rested a hand on Loti's knee. The waterfall splashed behind them as a fine mist settled on their hair.

"Much." She let out a noisy exhale and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Fiamette gritted her teeth as she put an awkward arm around her. "Believe it or not, I empathize."

Loti cocked her head, waiting for an explanation. None came.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf landed beside his Fat Boy without a sound. Jumping on his bike, he started it, rocking the stand out of the way. Revving the engine to an angry growl, he careened down the gravel driveway, spraying rocks and dirt. When he hit the pavement, he opened up the throttle and sped along the back roads, dipping around corners. His unbound hair whipped behind him. He shot off the on-ramp onto the four lane highway, his head empty and the throttle wide open. The ache in his chest dulled, and he reached out for her. He met the familiar white buzz of a shield and blinked rapidly. She'd figured it out.

Good. He slammed a shield down the minute he let go of her, after he was sure Buddy was okay. It surprised the hell out of him that he could do it; he'd tried to shield since they woke up that evening with no success. The instant it happened, however, he knew they needed a break from each other. He didn't try to know her thoughts, kept his shield tightly drawn over his aching heart. Flexing his jaw, he glanced at his speedometer and let off a little—100 mph would get him pulled over. Looking over his shoulder, he almost expected flashing blue lights, but all he saw was the Piedmont, jaws wide, swallowing the empty highway. He rode for long stretches without a thought, his feelings locked away—the way he liked it. The frigid bite of the spring night shocked him, but he'd felt worse. He needed to start dressing for the weather again. That was interesting. What else would be different?

The hand-painted sign for Blazewood General grew from a speck into a white rectangle with big red letters declaring the best cheese-steaks this side of the Mason-Dixon line. It towered over the smaller billboard for his shop, Blazewood Cycle. Letting off the throttle, he downshifted onto the country road and glided into his parking lot. He lurched off his bike.

"Wolf. Hey, where ya been, man?"

From the General store porch a man in a brown Carhartt jacket waved his arm high above his head. The empty sleeve was pinned to his side. Several other prune-faced old timers waved at Wolf.

"Jimmy. Hey. Had some business to take care of." He strolled over and shook hearty hands with him and the others. "Any music tonight?"

"Nah, we're just hanging. Michael's in there." Wolf peered through the old three panel glass door. The screen door made hazy work of the VISA/MASTERCARD placard and the OPEN sign.

"I'll be back. I've gotta check in with Al."

"He's been sick. It's just Merle and Randy right now." Jimmy took a slug from his soda can and smacked his lips.

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "How long?"

"I don't know. Couple days?" He crinkled the can.

"Thanks, Jimmy. How's Tom?" Wolf tucked his gloves in his jacket pockets.

"Good. He called home the other day." Jimmy frowned. "Homesick, though. He's got eighty-seven more days, and then he'll be home for good."

Wolf patted his shoulder. "Still planning that welcome home party?"

Jimmy's frown turned upside down. "Yeah, we are, man. Gonna celebrate right, aren't we guys?" He lifted his CheerWine in a toast then chugged it down. The other's cackled along with him, smiling and nodding.

"Be back in a sec." Wolf trotted off to the shop.

The sleigh bells hanging from the doorknob jangled as he opened the front door to the old Texaco station he remodeled and turned into a repair shop. The Blazewood Cycle mascots stood guard out front. Randy had painted the old gas pumps to look like a biker couple, complete with tattoos.

"Merle?" he called. Bright fluorescent lights lit the main entry. He picked up the clipboard resting on the counter by the register. Flipping through the orders for maintenance and repairs, he stopped at a request for a custom build. Damn it. He slammed the clipboard on the counter.

"Merle," he shouted as he strode to the door marked "Employees Only".

"Hey," he called as he opened the door.
Chapter 27

The back of Merle's head bopped as he warbled, "I'm a lumber jack now baaabaay"—off-key, of course. From his perch on a red bar stool, he hunkered over a work table with his booted feet propped on the low rail. His sleeveless Jackyl t-shirt revealed colorful, Japanese tattoos that covered his arms and shoulders. Elbows akimbo, he fiddled happily with something in front of him. Wolf didn't make a sound as he walked up behind him and boxed his ears with a quick whop.

Screeching like a woman, he jumped up and managed to tangle his legs around the stool and fall sideways. Wolf caught the red plastic seat before it whacked him in the face. Setting it up right as he fingered the zebra-striped duct tape, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Jesus—effin—Christ, Wolf. What the fuck," Merle barked, but he smiled like the Cheshire cat.

"What are you working on?" Wolf turned a brass float over in his hand.

"Carburetor re-build." Merle popped the headphones out and adjusted the metal plugs in his earlobes as he righted himself. Wolf offered him a hand, but he slapped it away.

Grinning to himself, Wolf shook the float to his ear.

"Already checked," Merle groused.

Wolf looked sideways at him. "Al take a look at this?"

"I can rebuild a carburetor." He snorted. "What did you hire me for if you didn't think I could do the job?"

"I think you can do the job, but with Al's tutelage." Wolf slapped his back. "Don't be so touchy, Marilyn."

"Don't call me that."

"Merlyn." Wolf set the float on the gray tray of parts and walked over to a yellow and black bike. He whistled in appreciation, running his hands over the gas tank and leather saddle like it was a prized stallion.

"That's Michael's new bike?" Wolf knelt down on one knee, peering into the engine. "He finally got it."

"1946 Indian Chief. Chain direct-drive and you can learn to ride it in five minutes." Merle laughed, fingering quotation marks in the air.

Wolf stood up. "Randy gone for the night?" He sauntered back to the work counter, hands in his pockets, brow furrowed.

"No, just went to pick up Sarah. Her mom had a date and couldn't watch her. I told her to bring her here and not to worry about it." Merle straddled the stool, leaning his elbows on the counter. "I hope that's okay. And hey, Al's been sick. Got the stomach thing. He called earlier to say he'd be back tomorrow."

"It's fine." Wolf waved a dismissive hand. "Tell Randy not to take any more custom orders. I can't do any for a while." Wolf tilted the light fixture over Merle so the light shined on his tray.

"She didn't. The guy wouldn't take no for an answer, so she told him she'd take his information, but you'd have to talk to him."

Wolf nodded and tapped the metal light shade. "Don't work in the dark." He headed for the side door. "I'm going over to Michael's."

"Got it." Merle tucked his headphones back in.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wolf. Hey, buddy." Michael wiped his hands on his greasy white apron and stepped out from behind the order counter. They grabbed each other's elbows so their forearms touched, smacking backs in a half-hug. As Wolf stepped back, Michael flicked a brown dread over his shoulder, running fingers and thumb from his mustache, out and around his sparse goatee. "How long are you back for?"

"Don't know." Wolf dug a boot heel into the old wood floor, lifting the toe as he rocked back on the other foot. "Probably until tomorrow night." The ache in his chest flared.

"I know better than to ask where you've been." Michael trotted behind the counter to the grill and flipped a sizzling patty.

"You the only one working tonight?" Wolf leaned over the defunct deli case that Michael's girlfriend had painted. The glass front was now a black chalkboard with their menu written in colorful chalk. Little drawings of pigs by the "Pulled Pork Bar-B-Que" and flowers by the "Veggie Burger".

"Yeah, I sent the others home. Slow night. Just Jimmy and the guys drinking too much Coke and CheerWine."

He dropped a basket of fries into the deep fryer, the oil sizzling and bubbling. Wolf wandered over to the stage where a hodge-podge of well-loved instruments gathered. He lifted an acoustic guitar and picked a few notes that hung in the air suggestively.

"What's wrong?" Michael wiped his hands on his stained apron and leaned on the counter. "And you've got two minutes." Wolf set the guitar back on its stand, reluctant to let go. "Nah, play, man. It's good for you."

Wolf hesitated, but cradled the guitar, looking it over with satisfaction. Settling into a wooden chair, he strummed a few discordant chords, adjusted tuners and twanged strings a few times until it sounded right—his fingers unhurried in their work. The notes calmed into a tune, and closing his eyes, his head moved to the music as the song found him.

"Wicked Game, huh?" Michael huffed out his nose.

Wolf grunted.

"Sounds like woman problems."

Wolf passed him an annoyed look.

"You don't have to say a word."

"Good."

"I've never seen you flinch over a girl." Michael pushed away from the counter and pulled a bag of Kaiser rolls off the shelf behind the grill. "Is she worth it?" Michael twisted the tie on the bread bag.

Wolf nodded, amused enthrallment sweeping across his face. As he finished the last refrain, his vampire ears picked up a commotion next door. He sat still as a statue while Michael slid the burger off the grill and onto the bun. Wolf shot out of his chair and through the side door, the guitar clanging on the clapboard floor. Jumping as the screen door banged shut, Michael peered through the glass and screen, but Wolf was already out of sight. Keeping his eyes on the side door, he plated the fries and set it aside. Wiping his hands on his apron, he picked up the receiver from the wall mounted cradle.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf listened at the side entrance to his shop, between the door and the window. Leaning back, he squinted through the glass without showing himself, but all he made out was his own reflection. There was a muffled grunt and a thump then all was quiet. Every muscle fiber cocked and loaded, he turned the knob bit by bit. Opening the door just wide enough, he slipped in sideways and lowered into a crouch. The work light above the bench was off and the stool lay on its side, both the door to the storage room and the front office closed. He sniffed the air. Blood. Human. Dog. Vampire. Something . . . else, he wasn't sure. His vampire eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on Merle's body splayed on the concrete floor. Blood pooled around his head. Wolf listened and waited, all senses poised, all emotions halted. Small breathing sounds, whimpering. _Randy and Sarah_.

"Mr. Wolf Arrighi." A male voice reverberated in the garage, seeming to come from all corners.

"Where are the girls?"

"They are fine, Mr. Arrighi. We would not hurt a hair on their heads." There was a weighted pause. "As long as you cooperate."

He took a step toward Merle.

"Unfortunately, your young friend did not."

He paused then took a step back. He reached behind him with unwavering accuracy to grab the sledge hammer leaning by the door. He brought it to his side as if it were weightless.

"We just want you, Mr. Arrighi. Not the girls."

The sledgehammer hung down Wolf's leg. His hair covered one side of his face, while the single, black eye stared at Merle's body.

"He was just a kid." Wolf's voice was wooden. "You could have subdued him."

"We wanted to make a good first impression."

Two forms leaped at him at once. He swung the hammer in a wide circle and connected with a crunch. Blood sprayed in an arch as the body flew through the air and smashed through the wall, crashing into the show room. Glass tinkled as Wolf ducked out of the other creature's way. It flew over his head. The sledgehammer circled around with the weight of its own momentum as the creature somersaulted and bounced off the wall. Arms reaching out, it growled as it sailed toward Wolf. There was a wet smack, like a watermelon hitting pavement, as the hammer connected—blood and brains spattering Wolf and the Indian Chief. The body sailed through the shattered window and into the night. Wolf crouched with the hammer in both hands, holding it over a shoulder like he was waiting for a pitch.

"Wolf?" A scared girl's voice. _Randy_.

"Mr. Arrighi, please. We can end this now."

"Randy?" Wolf called. "Are you okay? Sarah?"

"Yes," she quaked. "Sarah's here." She started to weep. "With me."

"We just want you. We will let them go if you surrender."

"What do you want with me?" He stayed where he was, sledge hammer motionless.

"That's a matter to be discussed in private, but I can guarantee your little girls' safety."

Wolf weighed his options. Continue to fight and hope Randy and Sarah didn't end up as casualties, or give himself up to the unknown. Normally, it would've been a no-brainer. _Fight._ But if he fought and they died, he would never forgive himself. And if he fought and he died, well that would've been okay, once, but not now. If he died, Loti died. _No strings, damn it._ That had always been his rule. In his quest for the truth, he'd hobbled himself. _This fucking bond is going to kill me—and her._

"How do I know you'll let them go?"

"You are going to have to trust me."

"I make it a point never to trust anyone who says, 'Trust me.'"

Silence.

"Give me your word you will surrender—and I will send them to the store next door."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Done. But I want to watch her leave first."

"We are sending them out the front door now, Mr. Arrighi."

Wolf lowered the hammer to the floor and stood up, measuring his steps to the broken window. The general store's windows cast yellow slants across the gravel lot that separated the two businesses. Michael's shadow appeared in the side door as Randy lurched across the lot, clutching baby Sarah to her chest. Michael swung the door open and scooped them inside. He paused with the door open, seeming to look right at Wolf. Maybe he saw him in the window, or maybe he knew he was there. Wolf couldn't be sure, but Michael was the type of guy who knew things before you said them. _Loti would know what he is._ He mentally checked his shield—barely there. He reinforced it.

Michael touched the piece of abalone shell around his neck, tipped his fingers to Wolf, and let the screen door recoil. The inner door closed, and Wolf turned around as two man-shaped figures swung a silver net over his head. He threw his arms up. His hands sizzled, ribbons of smoke curling up. He screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti screamed in agony. "It burns." She grabbed her face, hands shaking as she collapsed to her knees on Calisto's living room floor. "It burns. It burns."

Calisto zipped through the crowd to where she trembled. "What's happening, Loti? Can you get past the pain? Where is he?" Margarite pushed through the others. "Stupid, stupid. I can't believe he left like that." Calisto got his arms around Loti, who curled into a fetal position as he picked her up.

Margarite glared at him as she pried Loti's hands from her face.

"Block, Loti. Just a little," Calisto urged. "You can block the pain and still pick up his thoughts."

Loti gulped air like a hooked fish tossed on the bottom of a boat. She nodded through another grimace. It was physically and mentally exhausting to focus on her shield.

Wolf?

_Loti._ His anxiety and his fear billowed through her.

Where are you? What's happening?

I really fucked up, this time.

Never mind, tell me what's going on.

Someone . . . not Patrick . . . ambushed me at my shop

I can feel you moving.

I'm in a van heading south on 29, I think, back toward Lewiston

We're coming—

Don't come for me.

What?

"What's he saying, Loti?" Calisto's voice hummed in her ear.

Curled in his lap, she waved an anxious hand at him, her eyes distant. "He's telling me not to come for him."

Wolf, I'm not going to leave you.

Silence. He blocked her as much as he could, but he couldn't block the pulling. She felt the strain ease as if he was moving toward her, coming from the north.

"He cut me off when I said I wouldn't leave him."

"He's a fool. We need you two to be connected, so he can feed us information, so we can figure out where they are taking him." Calisto pressed his forehead to Loti's. "Damn his ego."

"I can tell where he's at." Loti touched Calisto's face with both hands.

He lifted his head, eyes wide. " _You_ can tell where _he_ is?"

Loti nodded. "Is that unusual?"

He breathed in through his nose. "Yes, it is. Usually, a vampire can tell where his bondmate is, but not the other way around."

"He's getting closer to the ashram, but they're on the highway going south. He'll go past us and continue on to Lewiston. We have to follow him," Loti babbled, shaking with the burning pain.

Calisto turned his lips into her hand and kissed her fingers. "We'll find him."

Tears coursed down her cheeks.

"But, we need some sort of plan."

"There's no time." Panic strained her voice. "If he gets too far ahead—"

"We'll find him. Take a deep breath." Calisto tightened his grip, cradling her close.

She wanted to believe him, but something scary hid in the corners of her mind, something taunting her. She jerked upright. "I have such a bad feeling, Calisto. I—" Katie Brown sat down beside them and ran a reassuring hand through her hair.

"Shhh, darling, we'll find him. You'll find him." She curled her lips under, still stroking Loti's hair, lines framing her eyes.

"I told you he would make his move soon," Fiamette knelt between Calisto and Katie.

"Yes, you did." Katie's hand fell to her lap as she studied Fiamette's face with trepidation. Fia reached manicured fingers to Loti, who took her hand.

"Wolf said it wasn't Patrick." Loti turned hopeful eyes on Katie.

Calisto's eyes were closed as he spoke to Fiamette. "You know something, my dear, don't you?" His voice held no judgment, but a grave certainty.

"I think I know who it is." She spoke in a quiet voice. "I wasn't sure because we had reason to suspect," her eyes shifted to Katie, "but I think it's a vampire. A very old and very insane vampire."
Chapter 28

Loti slid out of Calisto's lap, holding clawed hands to her face. Breathing in and out, her brain scrambled to get on top of the burning.

"His name is Modore. He's—"

"I know who Modore is." Calisto voice was very level, and very calm. All the color drained out of Katie's face like the sand running out of an hourglass.

"Yes, him." Fiamette bit her bottom lip

"Who's Modore?" Loti stared at nothing.

"An evil son of a bitch," Calisto's voice sent shivers up Loti's spine. To Fiamette he said, "And why didn't you tell us about your suspicions earlier?"

She looked from one to the other, guilt and fear loosening her mouth. She dropped her gaze and mumbled, "Because I didn't want to believe it."

"Who is Modore?" Loti insisted. "Who in the hell is he? And why does he want Wolf?"

"He doesn't want Wolf." Calisto squeezed her shoulders. "Look at me. He wants you, and he's using Wolf to get to you." Her gaze flitted from his eyes to Fiamette's bowed head to Katie's pale face.

"Because he couldn't get to you." Calisto turned her chin back to him. "When Wolf took off, he ventured outside of our protection. There's a special magic to this place. It's why we chose the location for the ashram."

"We also built very complex, layered wards around it," Margarite added. She knelt on the floor by Calisto, one hand on his knee. "Katie and her coven have helped, as well as the local witches and healers." She slid her feet out from under her as she shifted her backside to the braided rug. "It's been a monumental group effort and one of the reasons I was a bit lax when I checked you and Rachel before you entered the house. Besides my excessive pride, that is." She winced at her own words. "It's very unlikely anyone would be able to circumvent the natural boundaries as well as our contrived protections."

Loti searched Calisto's eyes, her face hard. "Why does this Modore want me?"

Calisto squeezed gently. "Who knows what his exact intentions are. He's unpredictable and self-serving." He sighed. "The creature is insane and has spent the last millennium stirring up trouble—but with purpose. He wants, if you can believe it, to save the world—in his own way. He believes humanity is hopeless—the human race cannot be enlightened. So he wants to get them out of the way before they screw it up for the rest of us."

"You're kidding," Loti tittered. "Like some cosmic clean-up crew? You've got to be kidding." Her eyes went wide and wild. "And how in the world would I fit into this?"

"You have no idea what you're capable of, do you?" Calisto asked with wonder in his voice.

She shook her head in slow motion. "No. So far I can heal, with Wolf's help, and I am locked in a bond with a bondmate who doesn't really want to be bound to me." Her voice wavered a little.

"You know that's not true," Calisto said as he stood up, and she followed. "Whatever stupid stunts he pulls, he wants to be with you. Don't ever doubt that." Calisto kissed her cheek. "Even if he doubts himself."

~~~~~~~~~~~

In the dim light of the lamp, Rachel dug through the box on Katie's desk. She stayed behind to gather the things the coven would need for the casting tonight. They needed to find Loti's stalker before he made his next move. With Wolf and Calisto's help, maybe, they would get somewhere this time. She rummaged through the cloth and plastic bags, reading the markings and tossing some on the antique credenza. The front door knob jiggled as someone slide a key in the lock.

"Nan?" She glanced at the open study door.

She snugged the lid on the pale, pink box and grabbed another one marked "Crystals" in her grandmother's graceful long-hand.

"Why'd you come back? You could have called me if—"

"Hello, dear." Patrick stood in the doorway twisting the key ring in his hand, a pained expression on his face.

"Patrick." She froze. "We have been trying to . . . " Her heart thumped with a chilling anticipation, and she trailed off, narrowing her eyes. "Why aren't you in Ireland?"

Rachel tucked the lid on the box, dropping her gaze. She kept him in her peripheral vision. When he stepped across the threshold, she flung her hands out, a burst of blue lightning flashed. He waved his hand like he was dismissing a silly remark, and the streak of light fizzled into nothing. Her eyes grew wide as she stepped back. She'd known him all of her life and had no clue he was this powerful.

"I am so, so sorry, sweetie. This is not my choice. Please know that." He waved both hands in front of him like he was scooping a wonderful, appetizing fragrance to his nose, and Rachel collapsed in a boneless pile on the ecru carpet.

~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke up in the dark, her face wet and gritty. A light flashed and she squinted. It bounced away, revealing glimpses of stalactites clinging to the ceiling and a rock wall worn smooth. Water dripped. As her eyes adjusted, Patrick set a lantern on the floor. The light threw ghastly shadows on his face. She swallowed, grimacing at the thick soreness and pushed herself up, drawing her knees under her. She held her throbbing head with one hand.

"Why?" Was all she could think to say.

"I wish I could tell you, Rachel." Patrick slumped down on a mound of rock shaped like a scoop of ice cream. His shoulders hunched, he wrung his hands, and leaned his elbows on his thighs. "I'm so, so sorry." His face held so many emotions it was difficult to sort them out. Sadness. Confusion. Disappointment? No, more like . . . hopelessness. Rachel got her feet under her and tried to stand.

"Patrick?"

"No, no, sweetie." He waved both hands. "Stay still for a few minutes. That whammy I gave you takes some time to wear off." He sat straighter, rubbing his liver-spotted hands on his pleated khaki trousers. Glancing at his watch, he sighed and looked up, studying some imaginary scene. She plopped back down as the world wobbled and grew fuzzy around her.

"What happens now?" She groped around into a crisscross applesauce position, absorbing as much of the cave as the lantern would reveal. The air was eerily still and odd smelling. Stale. Lacking some quality she couldn't figure out.

"There's no way out. You have to be able to teleport. Not everyone can do that." With stiff legs, Patrick got up from his perch. The stone walls echoed the muted taps of his dress Oxfords. Pushing his tweed jacket out of the way, he tucked his hands in his pants pockets. He could have been preparing to give a lecture, except for the tortured look on his face. When he faced Rachel, the lantern cast deep marionette-like lines around his mouth, and his eyes gleamed with a watery quality. She waited for him to continue, furiously trying to remember her last attempts at teleporting—not a successful day. She'd ended up with a splitting headache and no fruits to show for her labor.

"Is there a point to this?" She sighed, frustrated with herself.

"Yes. I'm hoping to avert an even worse disaster. I hope you survive." Patrick lowered himself with care to a squatting position beside her. "But if I can stop this whole thing from happening—well, I had to make a choice." He shook his head in a beleaguered way. "Not that I've been very good in the choices department." He was a man defeated, resigned, with a heavy brokenness about him. He'd been like a grandfather, since her real grandfather died long before she was born.

A genuine lump formed in her throat. "You don't have to do this, Patrick. We'll help you—you know that. Nan will do whatever—"

"No. Can't take any chances." He got up, rubbing his hip. His movements were jerky as if rehearsed. "I'm going to go now and don't want you to panic. I trust Katie and the rest of the coven will figure this out and get you out of here." More to himself he said, "I've learned that much." A mindless hand rubbed his bald spot. "I had to distract her. She would choose you over Loti."

Rachel sprang up, blue zig-zags streaked at him. He waved it off.

"Now stop that. You're going to get yourself hurt." Rachel shot another one at him.

Patrick's face turned stern, the way it had when she was a toddler. He jerked both hands in an up and outward direction, and she froze mid-strike.

"Listen to me very carefully, Rachel. I need you to remember something." Her eyes followed him, but the rest of her was suspended in mid-air. "Ask your grandmother about Purgatory." He touched her cheek. "This is important." A tear pooled in the corner of his eye. "Ask her if she ever figured out how she escaped." And he gestured, disappearing.

As Rachel collapsed to the floor, blue lightning struck the ice cream scoop. A glowing blob of melted rock dripped down the side, solidifying as it puddled on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The silver net couldn't have weighed more than a couple pounds, but it immobilized Wolf. He managed to tuck his chin and get his hair between the silver and his face. One ear still sizzled against it. Burnt and bloody hands balled against his chest as he curled around them. The weave pattern burned on his face was healing quicker than normal. The van slowed down, stopped, and then jerked forward. There weren't any windows to look out of, so he couldn't see where they were going if he wanted to. As it was, he had to be careful not to move too much.

A long, grinding metallic and whirring sounded as sheet metal rattled. While it was still going on, the van lurched and stopped. Wolf tensed as the engine stilled, and the van rocked, doors opening and banging closed. The back doors opened wide to a vast darkness and two men in jeans dragged him from the van. He tried to get his feet under him, but they held him like a rolled up carpet. He gritted his teeth as silver seared his face all over. He bucked a few times, but their grip didn't loosen. Not vampire, but not human either. Too strong. They smelled like dog, so maybe lycanthrope? He hated werewolves. So unpredictable and stubborn. As best he could tell, they carried him through a door and down several flights of steps. His head smacked into a railing and the wall more than once.

"Gentlemen, in here, please." The voice from the shop rang a bell, but he couldn't place it. They passed through another door, and then it slammed shut.

"Set him in the chair."

He knew that voice. The thugs dropped him in a wooden chair and walked around behind him, keeping one hand on each of his shoulders. Wisps of smoke rose from his face as the silver settled down. He winced as he peered through the net, but this kind of pain was his forte, much easier to handle than other kinds. The room was empty save for two men and a lone table with things on it he didn't like—scalpels, silver chains, and metal objects he couldn't make sense of.

"Mr. Arrighi. Welcome. Patrick, may we remove the silver, so our guest can relax?"

Patrick Lynch walked around the chair mumbling under his breath as the two men stepped aside to allow Patrick to cast a magic circle. Wolf peered through the silver as he came around in front.

"You can take the silver off." Patrick walked past Wolf.

"This was the one who helped you and Joe that day?" Wolf spoke to Patrick, who stopped in his tracks, a stricken look on his face. "What did he make you promise, Patrick?" Wolf never took his eyes off the old man as he turned to Wolf, opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it.

"Go, Mr. Lynch. You have other duties to perform," the eerily familiar voice said.

Patrick looked shell-shocked at Wolf, and as if he couldn't bare it any longer, he turned away. His head hanging, he plodded toward the door.

"Our Patrick is a bit frail these days." The vampire stepped closer and Wolf recognized him. Patrick stole through the door that snicked shut behind him with a final, metal click.

"Modore."

The goons lifted the silver and Wolf tried to leap from the chair, but it was as if the air itself held him in place. It probably did. He strained against the thickness all around him, but the more he fought it the more difficult it was to move. On impulse, he relaxed and found he could make small adjustments within the chair, but not get up. Each man grabbed an arm, and Wolf strained to keep them from clamping silver cuffs over his wrists. Fresh smoke and the smell of burnt flesh drifted up. He should have been able to throw them across the room now that the silver net was gone. Patrick must have cast a pretty serious spell to keep him not only in the chair, but weak.

"Now that you are settled, we can begin." Modore smiled serenely as he fingered the instruments on the table.

"What do you want?" Wolf gritted his teeth.

"Loti."

Wolf's heart slammed in his chest, but he knew how to heel fear. His eyes narrowed and his jaw flexed. "Why?"

Modore turned back to Wolf, his shoulder-length hair fluttering around his long, gaunt face that crinkled up into a bizarrely welcoming smile. In one hand he brandished a silver scalpel and in the other dangled a delicate length of silver chain.

"She is valuable to me."

Wolf kept his eyes on the scalpel while he reinforced the shield between him and Loti.

"Why? What do you want with her?" Wolf stalled.

"Please, we've known each other off and on these past few hundred years." He actually pouted. "You seem to have forgotten me." Modore glided across the concrete floor to Wolf. "But, then again, you haven't been playing our game lately. Are you no longer taking part in your precious Culper Ring crusades? Did you give up trying to save the world, Wolf?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

The scalpel went rigid in Modore's hand, but his smile was indulgent. "I want to walk in the sun."

Blood pounded in his ears. "Loti can't make you walk in the sun." _This beating heart thing is annoying._

"Are you so sure she cannot? Because I am sure she can. But that is not my only use for her. There are many benefits to bonding with a Light Walker."

"Then why'd you send one of your goons to kill her?"

Modore held the scalpel a hair's breadth from Wolf's forehead. "I didn't, but," he bared his teeth, "you may want to speak to your old friends in Washington about that. I have a feeling the Culper Ring was a bit desperate after their prize agent died." He straightened up at Wolf's obvious confusion. "Oh, you didn't know David was an agent? I believe he was sent to prevent you from finding her." Modore waved an absent-minded hand. "But you'll have to confirm that with them, of course."

Modore pressed the scalpel to Wolf's forehead, a thin line of blood welling around the blade as Wolf's skin sizzled like bacon.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Patrick's face contorted as Wolf's bellow breached the heavy metal door. Clawing at his chest, he staggered into the wall, groping for support. He sucked air in and out like a woman in labor, his face twisting and going slack. Tears streamed down his wrinkled face.
Chapter 29

Fiamette twisted her hands in her lap as Loti clutched her forehead, screaming. Calisto and Margarite sat on either side of her on the couch, bracing her with their arms. She screamed again.

"Can you hear his thoughts?" Calisto whispered in her ear.

She shook her head, panting as the white hot pain bit between her blinded eyes. She grasped the shield she'd constructed, but no matter how she contorted it, stretched it, imbued it with more energy, she couldn't dampen the pain. Wolf's agony twisted her mouth and his regret and sadness overflowed her eyes. _Oh, Wolf. What are they doing to you? Please talk to me._

He was there, but not communicating.

"We need to find him before they kill him." She wept.

"Modore won't kill him, I told you. Not until he has you. You have to stay at the ashram. Let us find him, Loti," Fiamette begged.

Loti shook her head. "I have to go to him. If this Modore wants me, then I'll go."

"No." Fiamette slapped her leg. "That's what he wants. Once he has you, he'll kill Wolf."

"Why?" Loti lowered shaking hands from her pale face.

"He wants you. And that means he has to get rid of Wolf." Fiamette squeezed Loti's hands.

"But why doesn't he just kill him instead of torturing him?" Another searing pain shot through a cheek. She grabbed at the spot, clenching her chin to her chest, howling.

"Because you'll die too." Margarite whispered, squeezing her arm tighter around Loti's back, one hand on Loti's leg. "Remember? Jyotika and Acacius?"

Another withering pain slashed down the other cheek. "Calisto." She choked. "We have to try something."

"He wants us to panic. We have to wait for the rest of Katie's coven and move together." Calisto rubbed Loti's back as she shivered. "Unfortunately, I have not heard from our Washington friends."

Loti moaned.

Loti

Wolf's voice in her head was faint, far away.

_Wolf—_ even her voice in their heads sounded weak.

Make your shield stronger.

I've tried.

Don't come. It's what he wants.

I can't leave you

He won't kill me

How do you know?

No response.

Wolf!

"I can't get ahold of Rachel, and she should have been back here an hour ago." Katie ran up to them, snapping her cell shut.

"The signal here is poor and intermittent. Use the house phone," Margarite said.

"I did. She's not answering and that's not like her. I need to go back to the house." Katie spun around and trotted toward the foyer.

"Wait, Katie." Calisto jumped from the couch and followed Katie. "Don't go alone. We'll all go. We have to go to Lewiston anyway. We'll figure out where he is and get him back."

"I can find him," Loti's voice shook. "I'm going with you." She stumbled to her feet. Whatever Modore was doing to Wolf, he had taken a break

"No." Calisto's eyes narrowed with a fierceness as he spun around. "Stay put."

"He got to me while I was here before," Loti argued. Even through the fog of pain, her eyes snapped.

"That's because—" Margarite began.

"No, he was going after Wolf regardless, if what Fiamette told us is true." Loti's tone left no room for debate. "He wants Wolf dead, so he can bond with me."

Calisto's jaw clenched and unclenched. Margarite stood up from the couch, looking intently from Calisto to Loti.

"I can find him, Calisto." Loti's body went rigid.

Katie stood in the archway between the living room and kitchen, tapping her fingers on her crossed arms. "Either way, let's get going. I can call the rest of the coven on the road and get things moved to my place. You're sure he's in Lewiston, Loti?"

Loti nodded. "I think he's further out than your place, but, yes, it feels close."

"All right. Then let's get going." Calisto made up his mind. "But you stick with us and the plan. Don't go running off on some suicide mission."

Loti walked stiff-legged with her hands hovering over throbbing cheeks. It wasn't subsiding at all; it throbbed and burned, and she could hardly breathe.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Katie turned the key in the brass door knob, shoving her front door open.

"Rachel? Honey?" she called.

Her keys jangled into the red and yellow glass bowel by the door as she dropped her bag on the foyer bench and ran through the living room. Richard and Theresa, two of her coven members, followed her into the foyer.

"She's not here," Katie shrilled from the den.

Theresa and Richard ran into the den, and Katie stood in front of the cherry wood desk, one hand twisting a diamond-stud earring.

"Where could she have gone? Do you think we missed her, and she's on her way back to the ashram?"

"I'm sure she's fine, Katie." Theresa patted her arm.

"I don't understand." Katie stepped passed the desk and wandered around the room, one hand pressed into her low back and the other worrying her mouth. She gazed up at the pictures and diplomas on the walls, hers and her late husband Joe's. Turning back, she noticed the pink box marked "Crystals" still sitting there. She walked around the desk, running her fingers over the smooth cardboard. Out of years of habit, she picked up the gold framed picture of her Joe, touched the glass, and then set it back down. Turning to the credenza, she stopped short and reached for the small cloth bags lying in a heap. Verbena, rowan, datura. She picked up the bags of herbs.

"Katie?" Richard stood on the other side of the desk. She whirled around with the bags clutched in her hands.

"Something's wrong. The herbs I sent her for are still here."

There was a knock on the front door, and Katie ran around the desk and out the door. Calisto walked into the living room, Margarite and Loti on his heels as Katie waved the cloth bags.

"She's missing, Calisto. I know something's wrong. These are the herbs I sent her for."

Loti took a bag out of her hand, turned it over in hers. Verbena. She stretched it open and stuck her nose in. Sweet, musky. Loti sneezed, and the powdery stuff flew up her nose.

"Ow, ow." She rubbed at her stinging nose.

Calisto was a blur as he rushed to the foyer, waving his hand in front of his nose as if to chase away a bad odor.

"Give me that, Loti. You're probably sensitive to it, now. With the bond." Katie snatched the open bag out of her hands, pulling the cotton strings tight.

"Why?"

"Vampires are allergic to verbena, or vervain as we used to call it in the old world." Calisto coughed.

"Why? Is it like garlic?"

"That's a myth." Calisto ventured cautiously back into the living room.

"Will it kill you?" She took the handkerchief Theresa held out to her. Loti had never met the middle-aged woman before, so she figured she must be a new member of the coven. "Thank you," she said and then blew her nose and rubbed fiercely.

"No, but it will burn and the pain is immobilizing. It takes a full day's sleep to recover from it, too. It's worse if you actually inhale it. Feels like your lungs are on fire." Calisto made a disgusted face.

"Rachel, Calisto. She's missing." Katie waved the vervain in his face as he ventured back into the room. He jerked his chin back wrinkling his nose.

Someone banged on the front door. Theresa ran to answer it. Loti collapsed on the familiar green couch, stroking her nose with the embroidered handkerchief. Guided, Hammer, Professor, and Fiamette poured into Katie's living room, followed by most of Calisto's nest and the rest of Katie's coven. Without any warning, Katie clutched her head and fell on the floor. Loti, Calisto, and Guided grabbed for her.

"Are you—"

"Shhhhh," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh Goddess, why, Patrick?" Katie's hysterical cry pierced the room. "Why are you doing this? Why?" She jerked with broken-hearted sobs, curling around herself.

Loti dropped to her knees beside Katie, clutching at her hands. The thin, soft skin of her wrinkled hands, once so soothing, was now jacked with fear.

"Patrick? Where's Rachel?" Loti whispered in the old woman's ear.

"A cave, somewhere in the mountains. He set a beacon so I can find it. He says we have to hurry." She sobbed. "He wasn't counting on the rain." With panic-stricken eyes, she climbed to her feet. "We have to go. I'm taking the coven. It's going to take all of us. The cave is near a lead deposit."

Richard's mouth fell open. "Oh my god."

Loti scrambled to her feet. "What does that mean?"

"It means we're going to have a very hard time getting her out." At Loti's confused expression, Calisto added, "Lead is a barrier for magic, Loti. Just like lead can block radio frequencies, it can block magic."

Loti nodded, the situation sinking in. "I know iron interferes, so lead makes sense." Loti's face paled, but not just with fear. She was sick of this—sick of being afraid and sick of hiding and sick of the people she loved being used as pawns.

"Go. Go save her, Nanny." She balled her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. "And we'll find Wolf." Katie nodded and ran for the foyer, her coven mates right behind her.

Guided and Professor whispered by the old tube-style television set, while Margarite and Calisto put their heads together by the couch. Family photographs lined the fireplace mantel, and homey throw pillows nestled in the corners of the couch and recliners. But like a bad dream, the familiar room didn't comfort. The corners felt mean.

"Loti, we need to make a plan." Calisto's hand rested on her shoulder. She stared at it, her brain on pause. "Without the coven . . . " For the first time, he sounded unsure. Shadows of doubt darkened his eyes and his mouth curled down in a dismal way.

"I can find him, but then what?" She wanted to believe in them, in herself. She wanted to trust, but life, her life had back handed her one too many times. She rubbed her face. Tired, so tired. "What options do we have? He's going to expect me to turn myself over. We should play along with that. Then what?"

"I don't know," Calisto mumbled.

"What about the Washington friends you mentioned?"

He shook his head. "At this point, I believe we are on our own." He glanced around at the gaggle of healers, witches and vampires. "And we are not exactly the British SAS."

"I'm not as powerful as any member of Katie's coven, but I've trained with them. I'll be fire power," Justin ventured.

"We can act like we're going along with Modore's plan, and in the meantime, Justin, Marcus, and I can find a way into wherever they're keeping Wolf." Korinna interlaced her fingers with Justin's. He smiled, he's eyes brightening as they nodded at each other.

"We'll stay with you, Loti." Guided cracked his knuckles. "We may not have the firepower, but we've got our tricks." Ever the good-humor guy, he winked.

Calisto clasped his hands together. "Tell me again, Fiamette, what you think his plan is?" He paced between Loti and the television set, staring at the textured carpet.

"He wants to separate Wolf and Loti. That's probably what he's recruited Patrick for, to create a spell barrier that will prevent Loti from dying when he kills Wolf." She stood alone in front of the window, holding an ivory vertical blind to the side with two fingers as she stared out at the rain.

"At a more appropriate time, I expect you to explain how you know all this." Calisto arched an eyebrow.

Her eyes shifted to him and back to the window. After a moment, the slat swung back into place, tinking against its neighbors. She lowered her eyes, nodding. "I don't think he understands that Wolf's heart is now vulnerable." She studied Loti. "He'll probably time this with the sunrise." Everyone glanced at the curved mantel clock over the fireplace. 3:00 a.m. _How did it get so late?_ She didn't want to sit there anymore. She wanted to get it done.

Loti jumped off the couch.
Chapter 30

Rachel stood on the ice cream formation, clinging to the stalactite above it, her knees under water.

"Help!" she screamed into the pitch black. Reaching out with her magic, she felt for the surface and ran up against the frustrating blankness. It was as if the rock was nullifying her magic. This area of the Appalachians had been a source of iron and lead during the revolution and the civil wars. As the first inches of cold water rose around her, she entertained the possibility that she was in real trouble.

_Nanny, can you hear me?_ She held very still, waiting and hoping, panic creeping in the utter blackness.

Nothing.

The water rose higher and higher toward her hips, the cold numbing her legs. It ran down the walls in a constant rushing sound that was Rachel's entire world.

"Somebody! Anybody!" she screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Katie and Richard jumped out of the Jeep Grand Cherokee into the pouring rain, followed by five more of their coven mates. Katie ran across the fire road through the headlight beams, sheets of rain reflected in the light. It had taken almost an hour to drive up the mountain, the jeep getting stuck and sliding in mud and gravel more than once. The youngest member of the coven, Daniel, a park ranger, insisted the rest of the coven ride with him in his truck full of equipment, including towing straps.

"Around here, somewhere," she yelled over the pounding rain. She stopped, closed her eyes and stretched out with her magic, feeling for Patrick's signal and the blankness that would be the iron or lead deposits.

"There." She pointed into the woods, and they took off in the driving rain, stumbling through brambles and deep forest duff, tripping over rocks and fallen logs. She found Patrick's marker and the surrounding dead zone. Daniel's Ford pickup slid to a stop in the muddy road, the wheels spinning globs of the black stuff into the air. He turned off the engine and jumped out, all the doors of his extended cab flailing open as the rest of the coven joined him. Theresa peered into the woods, caught the bounce of Richard's flashlight and yelled for the others.

"Over there. They're over there." Daniel waved the rest of them on, following Theresa's black shape into the woods. They caught up to Katie and Richard, who were standing still.

"Can you feel her?" Richard asked.

She shook her hooded head, but said nothing. She shivered in the rain, hands floating in front of her. She stepped a little ways to the right, reaching out her hand to Richard. He took it as she stretched her other hand out to Theresa, who stood catching her breath beside her. The coven linked up until all 11 members were beaded together, the last two completing the circle as everyone closed their eyes, rain pelting their hats and jackets. Turning their awareness to each other with practiced ease, their minds clicked together like a child's pop beads.

Focus on me, all of you.

They directed all of their energy at Katie, and she poured it into the ground, searching for the blankness. _There. Do you feel it?_ Silent affirmations in her head. She reached around the nothingness, looking for pinprick holes of buzz, where their energy could find purchase. Little by little, she weaved through the blankness along tiny corridors of presence, the places that _were_ between the places that _weren't._ A few times she ran into a dead end and had to backtrack, looking for another way. The maze was complex and delicate, but being a natural formation of mineral there was some mathematical sense to it. She began to twig the matrix like a savant understands how many toothpicks hit the floor. It came faster and all of sudden she broke through into a wide space and there was Rachel.

Nanny

How high is the water?

To my chin

Nanny soothed her granddaughter with the same practiced calm and gentleness she had used with her own children, already a master when little Rachel got her pant leg stuck in the chain of her bicycle.

It's okay, little dove. Calm down. Imagine you're in the backyard at your folks in the pond, swimming with your brothers. Tread water, Rachel.

Rachel did as her grandmother told her, picturing her brothers dunking each other. She turned her face up and the ceiling brushed her nose, sending panic through her.

We're going to get you out. Stay calm.

Richard's voice sounded in Katie's and Rachel's head. _The way down is too intricate. We can't move all the energy at one time like we need to, to transport her. We need several tunnels so we can move more packets of energy at once._

Then we split into two groups. Daniel, take your half and form a new circle.

It won't be enough, Katie.

_What do you propose we do?_ Angry bees buzzed through their connection, all the members of the smaller group connected to Katie tensed. Silence.

Alright, send me down there, and I can compensate from the inside.

_NO!_ Richards vehement response felt like needles in their temples.

I have to.

We may not be able to transport you both out, once you're cut off from the rest of us. It'll be safer—

I don't care about safer, Richard. I care about saving her life. I've already lived mine.

There was stillness in the world of throbbing energy they now occupied, the pulsing light contracting around them. Lines of energy expanded up from the ground through their feet as lines of light flowed down from the sky through the crowns of their heads. Their shapes were drawn with light and the dark spaces between. Energy flowed between them and out their hearts, meeting in Katie.

You're our center, Katie.

Well, I have to.

And their collective mind made up, they focused all their energy on Katie. Her body buzzed with the influx, vibrating faster and faster until her very atoms disengaged, separating from the bonds that made up the iron in her blood, the sodium, the hydrogen, the oxygen, and breaking the molecular glue. Katie flashed out of physical existence in a sonic boom and disappeared down the rabbit hole.

She popped up under water, floundering in the liquid blackness until she gathered her wits to look with her magic. And there was Rachel, floating, eyes closed, a few air bubbles escaping her nose as her arms drifted up. Her hair splayed around her like a true fae. Katie grabbed ahold of her granddaughter and found the two streams of energy bursting into the water. Mentally grasping them like the lifelines they were, she drove her energy up both at the same time. Her teeth vibrated down to their roots, the marrow in her bones churning from transporting again so soon. She thought she would pass out from the pain, but the two of them winked out on the physical plain and exploded down the metaphysical leads. They flared into existence on the surface, each in the middle of one of the circles, Katie gasping for breath, her lungs aching. Katie struggled to her feet with the help of Richard and Theresa; the others gathered around her.

"Get out of the way," she barked and shoved them away. Katie fell to the ground next to Rachel. Daniel hovered over her, his ear to her mouth.

"She shouldn't have water in her lungs," Katie put her hand on Rachel's still chest. "The teleporting should have left it behind."

Daniel tilted her head back, held her nose, and breathed into her mouth. He paused and did it again. He turned his ear to her mouth, watching her chest. Nothing.

"Does she have a heartbeat?" Katie felt for a pulse in her neck.

Daniel nodded and gave her mouth to mouth again. This time she coughed, and he rolled her onto her side as she dry heaved, her eyelids flickering.

"Nanny?" she choked in a little girl voice.

Katie gathered her in her arms, sobbing with earnest now, sobbing like she would never stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rain drops slid across the side window, as Loti pressed her forehead against the cool glass. A white hot stab of pain in her chest threw her head up, and she screamed, clutching her chest.

"Breathe." Calisto squeezed her hand. He was smashed between Hammer, who was driving, and Loti in the front seat. Professor, Guided, and Margarite sat in the back seat, while Fiamette and the rest of the nest followed in their van.

"Turn right here," she gasped between the streaks of pain. "It's right up there." She fluttered her hand at the dark windshield. Dirty garage doors flashed in the headlight beams. The darkness was lifting.

"Oh, my god, Calisto, the sun's coming up soon." Pricking warmth ran up the back of her neck.

"Yes. He timed this well." Calisto set his mouth in a grim line.

The pain never quite left, and Loti wondered if Wolf wasn't healing the way he should. Maybe he needed more blood? Her fingers fumbled with the red button to release the seatbelt. She grabbed the door handle, shoving and leaping out before the SUV came to a complete stop. Calisto was right beside her.

"The others will be looking for a way in. Stall him, if you can, and give them some time. You have to block your mind from him; don't let him read the thoughts you don't want him to know." She nodded, breathless with pain and fear.

Loti. You came, and I did not have to send a formal invitation.

Stop hurting him. I'm here.

Of course, my dear. Would you please come in?

A gray metal door marked "Private Entrance" seemed to be the only entrance, besides the garage doors. She dropped Calisto's hand and staggered toward the door.

She could function better if you took this silver off me.

All in good time.

The door handle clicked down, and she swung the heavy metal door open, stepping into almost complete blackness.

"Where do I go?" she called, her voice warped as it bounced off the sheet metal. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, a gray van came into focus. She walked toward it.

"This way," a gruff voice called out as a bright light cut through the darkness. A door stood open on the far side of the warehouse, a black figure holding the knob. She squinted at him, the Vibram soles of her hiking boots making almost no sound on the concrete floor as she crossed the wide space. Several motorcycles and two more vans were parked deeper into the cavernous space, but she kept her eyes on the light.

Wolf?

Why did you come?

She paused as his anger clenched her jaw. _I told you I would come for you._

You've condemned us both.

But—

But nothing. I told you to stay away.

She caught her breath at the rage. Banging and yelling came from the other side of the door. The dark figure looked back into the light then leaped out of sight, the door slamming closed. Loti stood in darkness again. She didn't move.

And you've put our friends in danger.

Now it was Loti's turn to be angry. _They came of their own free will._

But they're doing it for you, don't you get it? I'm not important. You are.

Bangs, grunts, and yells. Camille screeched, "Marcus." Then all was quiet, and the door opened again.

"This way," he said.

"No. Let them go. They were trying to help me. I'll leave." She sprinted for the door she came in through. Calisto and Guided leaped through the doorway and dived right and left, slamming into two forms. There was a wrenching sound, a wet tearing and a plop. Calisto appeared beside her, grabbed her and flew out the door.

This is so unnecessary.

Are you Modore?

Yes, I am.

Let them go.

Calisto flew at what felt like rocket speed, making Loti's head warble. Her ears popped painfully as he sped higher.

As you wish. You know, they were the ones who attacked my people.

I don't care. Let them go.

As you wish.

"Stop, Calisto. He's letting them go." Calisto stopped mid-air, floating. They were above the heavy, gray clouds and brilliant stars splattered across the firmament as far as she could see. Shivering, she made herself look into Calisto's face.

"Calisto, take me back and get everyone to safety."

He ran his hand down her check and held her chin in his hand. "For the first time in a long while I am having a hard time trusting the universe, Loti."

She laid her palm to his cheek.

He closed his eyes, turning his face into her hand. "You are the light I've been searching for, Wolf's been searching for. How could the universe bring you to us and then take you away?" A black tear ran down the side of her hand.

"I don't know. You, the Travelers, Wolf, Margarite, even Fiamette have brought me to life again, and I don't know what to do." Tears slipped down her face.

"But the sun will be up soon, and we have to trust, don't we?" Calisto whispered.

They stared at each other, Calisto memorizing the exact shade of her eyes, the curve of her mouth, and the way her nose tilted. She gathered his bloody tears with her fingers, brought them to her mouth and licked them away. He dropped his head. Snapping his head up, he zipped through the sky like a dark superhero. Only instead of rescuing the damsel, he was delivering her into the hands of evil.

He didn't put her down when he landed in front of the warehouse. He held her in his arms like a groom waiting to carry his bride across the threshold. Marcus, Camille, Justin, and Korinna emerged through the doorway, Camille leaning on Marcus, holding her head with blood stains on her ripped down jacket. She looked at Loti with desperate, sorrowful eyes. Once they were far enough away from the building, Calisto stalked forward, and Korinna touched Loti's hair as they passed. He carried her through the dark warehouse to the other door. When they got close, it opened spilling bright white light over them. Setting her on her feet, he held her face between his hands and kissed her lips. His eyes closed, he walked away at a human-slow pace.

When the entrance door closed, Loti turned to the man— _thing_ —holding it open. _Not human_ radiated off him, and she felt rather than thought— _shapeshifter._ _A real one—not a werewolf or some other lycanthrope._ This one could change into anything. She brushed passed him into the brightly lit hallway.

"This way." He shoved her down the corridor. With each step down the long hallway, the cement floor felt harder, the lights seemed starker and her body grew more rigid. Their footsteps clanged down the metal stairs. They wandered a maze of hallways, stairs, and doors until she felt utterly and completely lost. Anticipation prickled under her skin, mixing with the stinging nettles of Wolf's oncoming daysleep. Her escort opened a door to an almost empty room. Patrick Lynch stood with his hands clasped in front of him, head bowed. A ring of lit, pillar candles guarded a chalked pentagram.

"I want to see Wolf," she stated flatly.

He looked up with helpless eyes. "That's not up to me." His voice was empty.

She cocked her head, as if listening. "He's here, on this floor," her voice clipped.

_I will let you see him one last time, but you cannot touch. We both know that is not a good idea._ Modore's thought slithered through her mind and she suddenly understood he had been there before—in the shower, on the mountain.

_Of course._ Her thought was heavy with malice.

"Come with me," the jean-clad shapeshifter said.

She followed him to another door at the end of the hall. When he opened it, there was Wolf, slumped over in a wooden chair that made her think of an old fashioned electrocution chair. She started to run to him. A too thin figure blocked her way, his waxy white face smiling down on her with strange eyes, like whoever was behind them wasn't all there.

"Modore."

"Yes, dear." His smile crept across his face like pooling blood.

She shivered. "Let me see him."

"This is far enough."

He stepped to the side, and Wolf sat ten feet away. He lifted his head slowly, the curtain of black hair hiding half of his bloody face.

"Take the silver off of him," she instructed.

The two lycanthropes looked to Modore, who gave them one curt nod. They approached as if expecting something, and Wolf hissed, baring his fangs. They glanced at Modore, who waived a dismissive hand. The shaved-head guy put a hand to Wolf's forehead and pulled a length of silver chain, like the kind you'd hang a heart locket on, from a long gash. Loti clamped a hand over her forehead as it ripped from the wound. The skin and tissue knit itself back together before her eyes; the burning subsided to a throb which faded to nothing. She ran her hand over her forehead while keeping her eyes on Wolf.

The one wearing the Yankees baseball cap reached for Wolf's chest, and he snapped like a dog. Yankees-Cap jerked his hand back, growling, "I've been bitten too many times, boss."

"Shut up and do what you are told," Modore snarled.

Loti glanced at his eyes flaring with a strange light, boring holes through her. Yankees-Cap took a noisy breath and dug his fingers into the wound on Wolf's chest. Wolf hissed through his teeth, but watched warily as the silver pulled free one link at time, the wound healing behind its egress.

"He heals wonderfully!" Modore exclaimed and Loti jumped. "Much faster than any vampire I have ever known."

Loti ignored him, speaking to Wolf. "I'm sorry, Wolf." Her body juddered with the need to hold him, at least touch him, and she let her shield evaporate.

His eyes hard, his jaw clenched, he stared at the door behind her, but his shield dissolved until they were naked in their minds—exposed and vulnerable.

"I love you," she said.

He looked at her then, his eyes yielding.

"I know you can't say it. It's okay. I know how you feel." She smiled sadly. "Whatever happens, just know that I know."

His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"All right, you can take me back." She turned to Mr. Jeans, who escorted her out the door and back to Patrick.
Chapter 31

Patrick waved her into the middle of the circle, his face taut like he was holding his breath. Once she was inside the circle, he chanted a spell, some of which Loti understood. He was calling on the effulgent Light. Mr. Jeans, the shapeshifter, stood by the metal door, arms crossed and staring at them as if they were holding him up.

The plain room was longer than it was wide, with unpainted cinder block walls. No windows. The door opened and Modore breezed in, his unnatural gate emphasized by his rigid arms. His fingers and thumbs chafed in mindless circles and his translucent skin hinted at a network of veins and capillaries. His washed-out eyes glowed with madness, and his dark hair was tussled like he just rolled out of bed.

"We need to hurry, Patrick."

Patrick did no more than glance at the vampire, intoning the entire time. A grimace burst through his controlled face, and Loti narrowed her eyes. His prana flowed like . . . her eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth, but Patrick shot her a warning look. She closed her lips and her eyes softened as the air pressed against her skin, thick and oppressive. Unsnapping her jacket, she shrugged it off and dropped it on the floor. Sweat trickled down her back. She pulled the blue fleece over her head and dropped that, revealing the long-sleeved white thermal underneath.

An acrid, meaty, rotten smell filled the room, like . . . ah god. She gagged. She'd smelled it once before, imbued with sandalwood, in the thick greasy clouds of smoke that rose from the funeral pyre by the Ganges. She trembled as Modore stepped into the circle, and Loti stepped away.

"No need to be afraid, my dear. We will be quite enamored with each other very soon." And he bit his wrist. The blood welled sluggishly, tinged with purple. She repressed the urge to yell out, curling her hands into fists.

"I won't." She clamped her mouth shut.

Modore smiled. "Of course you will. If you don't, you will die."

Loti cut her eyes at Patrick, who kept his gaze on the floor, still chanting. A sweat stain bloomed on her chest. "Then I'll die."

"That would be a shame, after all of this effort." Modore's voice quaked with a bit of hysteria.

He moved faster than she could see, and he crushed her back against his front, his wrist in her face. Jerking her head sideways, she strained to get her face as far away as she could from the oozing wound. She pressed her ear into his chest to get away from his bloody wrist that reeked of a sweet rottenness, like overripe banana.

She wrinkled her nose. "Bathe lately?"

He laughed too hard, his head flinging back, his mouth abysmally wide, revealing long, wet incisors. Loti dug out the bag of vervain she had stuffed in her jean pocket back at Nan's house. She tossed it over her shoulder and into Modore's open mouth. He gagged and coughed a plume of powder like ash and dirt exploding from the side of a collapsing volcano.

His scream ricocheted around the room, inhumanely loud. Loti's ears rang and her nose and eyes burned as she bolted for the door. The air itself caught her as if it were a sticky trap. Pushing as hard as she could, she only managed to pull one foot up behind her, her chest straining against the hot thickness. The room heated up like a brick oven. Modore collapsed in the circle, falling on lit candles, his white silk shirt catching on fire. He let loose a strangled scream.

Mr. Jeans tramped toward her with no apparent difficulty and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her back to the circle. Both arms limp by his side, Patrick stopped chanting, his prana flowing fast, pulsing irregularly. Loti pleaded with her eyes and his pleaded back just as dreadfully. Mr. Jeans slung Loti at Patrick while Modore beat out the flames. Patrick caught her, both of them almost falling. Modore wheezed as he stood with difficulty, his hands shaking with violent spasms. His lips red and raw, his face blistered in blotches like he'd been sprayed with acid. He stalked toward Loti and stumbled. Lifting her chin, she glowered.

He grabbed her and sank his fangs in her neck in one swift movement. She screamed. It hurt, just hurt. No peace, no pleasure, no soft easeful flow. He gulped her blood, and her eyes fluttered, a pale awareness of Wolf trembling in her mind. There were no words between them, just a diaphanous touch of minds, a pulling apart. He was moving. _Where are they taking you?_

But he was gone.

Her throat tightened, her eyes burned, and not from the vervain. Modore yanked his fangs from her neck and backhanded her, sending her flying across the room. She slammed into the block wall and fell forward, smacking her face on the cement. There was an audible crunch and a stabbing pain flared in the middle of her face, hot blood running down her lips and the back of her throat. She coughed as she tried to breathe through her wet, bubbling nose.

Modore staggered toward the door, still wheezing and coughing. "I need to go to ground. Finish it."

"She'll die without your blood, once . . . "

Loti crawled toward Patrick, who reached down with tentative limbs, and she clasped his forearm with both hands, her face a bloody mess. Purple stains spread across her cheeks.

"I will send someone with a bottle. She can choose. Live or die, I don't care," he rasped, and slammed the door behind him. The ringing echoed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"There they go," Fiamette cupped her eyes as she peered through the Jeep glass. "Come on." She leaped out slamming the car door. Marcus and Korinna were already outside, glancing nervously at the dark clouds.

"Sunrise is—" Korinna started.

"I know, coming. We've got to hurry. Take us to wherever they're going and fly back to the ashram." The two vampires looked at Fiamette with disbelief.

"How are you three going to save Wolf all by yourselves?" Marcus asked.

"We don't have any options. We have to try." Camille snaked her arms around his waist. He wrapped one arm around her and kissed her forehead.

"Let's go!" Fiamette barked. "We'll lose them."

The couple wrapped their arms around her, lifting off into the clouds. Korinna and Justin held hands and took off like Peter Pan and Wendy. They flew over the blue work van that wound its way through the back streets of the Lewiston warehouse district by the river. It took an entrance ramp to the main highway and sped along heading east. After a few miles, it exited into farm country.

The van turned down a long dirt road in the middle of miles of plowed fields dotted with the occasional outbuildings and long lines of trees. The van trundled along the dirt road, stopped at a gate. An occupant jumped out, yanked the lock off its chain and swung the gate open. After another few minutes, they pulled over by a freshly plowed field and opened the back doors.

Three men drug a bundle of silver netting out and let it fall to the ground. It wiggled while they hoisted it onto two of their shoulders, steadying it with both arms. The two men carried it out into the field, the third one on the other side, supporting Wolf. They dumped their load with a thunk. Wolf lay still. Two of them pulled the netting away, revealing Wolf curled into a fetal position, wrapped in thick links of silver. Fiamette and the others landed by a wooden outbuilding, a few hundred yards away.

"They haven't spotted us," Justin whispered.

"We have to go," Korinna muttered in a choked way.

Marcus nodded, his eyelids struggling against the day sleep.

"Then go." Fiamette crouched by the corner of the building, peering around at the three men who sauntered a safe distance away from Wolf. She waved Justin and Camille forward. "Okay, I don't see any other way than to try to nab him and bring him back here. At least we can get him out of the light, somewhat, until we can track down Katie. She'll know what to do."

"I know a spell that should keep him from burning . . . at least until we can get him to ground," Camille offered.

Fiamette nodded. "Okay, so we have to get him away from the goons."

"Fiamette, be careful," Marcus touched her shoulder.

Fiamette glanced over her shoulder, a shrewd look in her eye. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Camille rubbed the back of her neck and face. "Go. Now." She shoved Marcus away and Korinna and Marcus fled the rising sun.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Margarite, Guided, and Professor stood outside the warehouse, waiting while Hammer talked on his cell phone.

"Right." He pocketed the smartphone. "They've got Rachel and are five minutes away." He glanced at the brightening sky. "I wish witches could fly." He laughed nervously. "And we had some werewolves."

"No, you don't," Professor slapped his shoulder. "Too unpredictable. When they change you never know who's going to be kibble."

The air shimmered around them.

"There's some powerful magic going on in there." Margarite scanned the sky. She closed her eyes, reaching out and sighed. "I can't get through whatever it is."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti lay on her side, curled up in a fetal position. An amber pint bottle with a flip-top stopper sat beside her, and Patrick stood over her, gazing sorrowfully down. His face contorted in pain, wrinkles deepening around his eyes and mouth in an agonized grimace.

"Your heart, Patrick," Loti mumbled. "If we can get to Wolf, we can . . . " Her voice faded into a whisper.

"You have to drink the blood, Loti. When Wolf—"

"No. You and I know this was pointless." Her swollen eyes opened into tiny slits.

"But there's always a chance-" Patrick moaned as the spasm faded, rubbing his arm. "I have to go. Katie and the coven are almost here."

Loti strained her eyes to look up at him. "Why fight them? Just let them help you," she whispered.

He shook his head. "I can't take that chance. The consequences—" He stared unseeing at the block wall. "Well, she would have understood." He shook himself. "But that's neither here nor there. Choices."

Zigzagging across the floor he said, "Drink the blood, Loti. You can figure out what to do next, but you have to stay alive." Without looking back, he left her bleeding out on the floor, the door clicking shut behind him. Loti's eyelids spasmed as her eyes rolled back in her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~

She opened her eyes, not sure how long she'd been passed out, and lay in silence, the amber bottle filling her vision. Reaching out, she grasped the warm, dry glass. She thumbed the top open, the white and red rubber stopper making a hollow pop. Lifting it, she studied the line of dark fluid half way down. It could have been a pint of beer, except for the thick movement as she tilted it. She flung the bottle across the room, blood spattering along the way to the floor where it shattered into a thousand pieces, the liquid oozing over the sharp edges. Her skin burned, and she writhed as it turned into a constantly increasing sear.

"Wolf," The ragged scream reverberated in the shadowy room. She strained to push herself up, but she was too weak. He was too weak. She reached out and somehow found him through the strangling magic Patrick had set in motion.

Wolf

Loti

That was all they said, but she could feel him, his soul touching her soul as they lay together, miles apart. She wondered if this is what it felt like to burn on the funeral pyre by the Ganges, and as the image of the burning corpse filled her vision, a red, hot fury blazed in her mind. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"DAMN IT!" Her throat felt like it was tearing open as she screamed. "NO!"

Wolf's essence melted away like thin ice on the surface of a puddle as the day warmed.

A little girl again, she squatted by the puddle outside their log and stucco house in Geigertown, poking the melting sheet of ice with a finger. She squinted up at the brilliant mid-day sun, then back down to the paper thin sheet. It was almost gone. She smashed it with her little fist. Then without warning she was inside crisscrossing tubes of pearlescent white, just like the ones in Wolf's lair. Too weak to move, her cheek sank into the cushion of energy. With a dawning horror, she understood the thrumming was the last thread of Wolf's existence.

"NOOOOOO," she yelled. And the anger exploded in her like a nuclear bomb, mushrooming through the tubes, through the room, through the warehouse, down the lines of energy all through the ground and air and world and sky and universe. It found Wolf lying in the middle of the furrowed field, his exposed skin charring in the inching light of sunrise, smoke streaming and skin cracking black.
Chapter 32

The Jeep and Ford pickup screeched to a halt as the cloud of magic swept across them. Bodies leaped from the cars as Patrick pushed open the warehouse door. To the average human, there was just a shiver, like any one of the random shivers average people experienced all the time. But to the healers and witches and warlocks, it was a bone-rattling burst. Every magical being for a radius of one hundred miles paused as if on cue, gazing around them in wonder.

Katie and Patrick's eyes met in a cloud of anger and confusion, both determined and sad. Patrick threw his hands up at the exact same time she lobbed a net of energy at him. It fizzled out of existence as it met his opposing oscillations. The coven joined in, attempting to subdue him, not kill him. He was one of them—they had worked with him. Katie learned magic side-by-side with him, from those youthfully proud days at Clark College to the tenured professorships at their alma mater.

And Patrick fought them all off.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"He's sick." Guided crouched behind a dumpster with Margarite. Hammer and Professor dived for the SUV when all hell broke loose.

"I know. It's his heart." Margarite peeked around the edge of the container. "He's going into cardiac arrest." She sent healing energy, trying to sooth his spasming prana, but he threw a protective shield between them. She blinked in surprise. "I was just trying to help him."

"I think we should leave well enough alone." Guided held her hand. "We need to give the coven the advantage."

She gave him a horrified look, her mouth partway open in shock. "We've taken an oath to help all—"

"But not at the expense of the greater good, Margarite," Guided warned.

She closed her mouth and frowned. She knew he was right, of course, but she didn't have to like it. "We can help him, later."

~~~~~~~~~~~

The lack of oxygen padded the space between Patrick and the rest of the world as his heart stuttered, unable to contract fully, unable to pump oxygen rich blood to his body and brain. He threw one last burst of energy around him, creating an impenetrable cage of vibrating interference and collapsed on the asphalt, puffing breaths. Katie rushed to him, slamming against the field.

"Patrick, please," she cried.

He turned haunted eyes to her as she fingered the air, as if clinging to a chain link fence. He waved a weak hand, and she fell through, followed by a tearful Rachel. Then he waved again, his head falling back to the pavement.

"Patrick, let Guided through," she pleaded, grabbing his hand, her thumb rubbing his palm.

"No," he whispered. Her hand felt hot against his papery, cool skin.

"Please. No matter what you've done, we still love you." Rachel sobbed.

He fixed his eyes on her. "Love is no excuse," he wheezed, his vision blurring. "Do you remember . . . what I told you?" Rachel and Katie leaned close to hear him. "In the cave?"

"Yes," Rachel whispered.

"Good." His voice faded as he stopped breathing. The world swam out of focus, and he saw his mother and father. The lonely days at the boarding school on 18th Street in Washington paraded by. Then Katie came into his life and a euphoric wave lifted him up and left him there, stunned and wide awake for the first time. The dark room in the basement of the Metaphysics Building—the moment that changed his life forever. Joe. Wolf. Rachel. David. Loti. Katie. His dear, sweet Katie. How he tried not to love her. White light, sweet, clear, white light.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Patrick, hang on." Katie pumped clasped hands over his heart and yelled, "Rachel, breathe for him." She turned to Guided, standing just feet away. "His shields should be down."

Guided tried to walk forward, bumping into Patrick's fading shield. "Not yet." He shook his head. The old wizard knew what he was doing, and after several minutes, Guided was able to pass through the weakening shield. He wrapped gentle hands around Katie's wrists.

"Stop," he said calmly.

She shook her head, eyes frantic. "No, no, no, no."

"You'll break his ribs, if you haven't already," Rachel said in a low, subdued voice.

Katie stopped, looking up at Rachel, her eyes rimmed with red, tear stains on her face. "What did he tell you in the cave?" Her hands poised over his still chest.

Rachel turned her face away, fishing for the exact words. "He said to ask you about purgatory." Katie's face drained of color. "And if you ever figured out how you escaped?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Fiamette ran across the open field faster than she should have been able to, pounding the furrowed dirt in a desperate cadence. The two shifters, and whatever the other one was, caught wind of her and took off in her direction. She had no idea how she was going to get past them. Justin was a powerful warlock, but he was young in the craft; Camille was even younger. A sizzling streak of blue flame shot past her, and she veered to the right.

"Damn," the taller shifter yelped.

He skidded to a stop, slapping at his burning thigh, cursing. She registered the shifter in the blue hoodie hurdling at her a second before he slammed into thin air and rebounded. He landed on his back, but jumped up and dodged Camille's magic wall. The other shifter stumbled forward in a shuffle-run, rubbing his thigh where charred flesh still smoldered. Another streak of blue singed Fiamette's hair and missed Blue-hoodie. He ducked and dived at her, shifting mid-air into a shiny black panther. She swerved too late and he barreled into her, knocking her to the ground. He snapped with glistening teeth and tore at her with razor-sharp claws.

Just then something exploded inside her head—like a nuclear blast of anger and agony. She shoved at the blackness, feeling fur and red-hot pain in her shoulder and the gray sky faded into view. A sub-woofer whomped inside her head, muting all sound. The panther shifted back to human, and Blue-hoodie held his head in both hands, falling off of her. His lips moved in slow-motion, but no sound came out. Misery tied her gut into a hard, tight knot.

"Antonio," she sobbed, and then confused, she shook her head. "Wolf?" She looked up at the dawning sky.

Scrambling to her feet, she glanced around the plowed field. Burnt-leg clutched his chest, squirming on his side while smoke curled around him—Justin must have hit him, again. Justin held his head, stumbling through the furrows toward her. Wolf still curled in a chained ball on the ground, but something was different. She shuffle-jogged toward him, wincing at the pain in her shoulder and her mind. _Where's the—whatever—the other guy?_ She glanced around warily, but he was gone and so was the van.

Loti, I'm alive.

Wolf?

Fiamette heard Wolf's and Loti's voices in her head and picked up her pace. The thrumming in her head paused, and relief flooded her mind and chest, unraveling the knot in her stomach. She caught a sob in her throat and ran with all her hope. When she reached Wolf's side, she dropped to her knees. They were all somehow inside Loti and Wolf's bond. They could feel their pain, their relief, and hear their thoughts. He strained his eyes to look at Fiamette, who glanced one more time at the shrouded sunrise, then scanned his body. He was no longer smoking. Not only had he stopped burning, but his charred skin was the perfectly smooth reddish brown it had always been. She looked back, one more unbelieving time to the east at the first rays of morning light burning through the cloud cover. He was old enough that he should burn quicker than a newly turned vampire. She pressed her hand to his hot cheek, hotter than it should be.

"Would you get these chains off?"

Mouth agape, she nodded. _She saved him. Loti saved him_. Fiamette swallowed and ran her hands over the tangle of silver chain, looking for a place to start. Falling down beside them, Justin touched the nearest length of chain, and it snapped with a cold clink. Fiamette unraveled the chains, careful not to pull too hard where it touched his bare skin. Justin and Camille broke random links, peeling back the silver as Fiamette pulled a length off his neck with a ripping sizzle. Wolf yelled wordlessly through gritted teeth. The psychic blast still echoed in all of their heads, making it hard to focus.

"You have to hurry," he groaned.

Confused, Fiamette yanked harder at the chains and Wolf hissed.

"What's going on?" Justin snapped links and yanked and snapped more links.

"She's fading fast," Wolf said. "She's not talking to me."

Fiamette felt it—Loti's presence, though she hadn't realized what it was, was drifting away.

You're safe. That's all that matters

No, Loti. Hold on.

Fiamette shook her head to dislodge their presence, but it didn't work. They were fading, but still there, and it was too much to know about anyone. The thinness of Loti's presence scared Fiamette because she knew it too well. They dragged the last bit of chain off Wolf's body, and he leaped to his feet just as the sun broke over the horizon. He gave the rising sun an awed glance then jumped into the air. Fiamette sat back on her haunches, staring after him. Justin slumped into Camille's arms, his arms useless by his side. Remembering they weren't alone, Fiamette twisted into a predatory crouch. Blue-hoodie stopped in his tracks as she turned all of Wolf's and Loti's fading, mixed emotions and adrenalin into a pin-point rage. She snarled as she lunged for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti woke to murmuring shadows all around her against a brilliant corridor of white light. Blinking, she shaded her eyes with a hand. One of those voices stood out from the others.

"Gramom?" Her grandmother's blue eyes drifted closer and then her beautiful face, so young, hovered over hers.

"Loti, sweetie." And she was in her grandmother's arms, crying and laughing. When Loti released her, her face swam back into focus.

"You're young." She laughed.

Gramom stepped away as another shadow walked out of white fog.

"Pop pop? Oh my god." And she jumped to her feet, squeezing him tight. He looked thirty years old again, like she'd only seen in sepia-toned pictures.

"Peanut." He kissed her cheek, and she was startled when he didn't smell of Old Spice or Lucky Strikes—or the beer on his breath.

"Loti?" A small, tentative voice came from behind her. She spun around.

"Calla?" She sobbed, falling on her baby sister. The two held each other for a long time, rocking together with little hiccups and sighs. "I'm so, so sorry, Calla." Loti kept saying.

"Shhh," Calla patted her back. "It wasn't for you to save me."

Sobs wracked Loti's chest and tore open her heart. She clutched her sister, hacking and coughing.

"Hey, Loti."

Calla unlaced their arms and stepped aside. Loti wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands until she could make out David's smile and his handsome face. Full and square-jawed, not sharp and angular like it was at the end. Loti gulped, frozen. He ran fingers down her cheek.

"It's okay, sweetheart."

She collapsed into his arms, and though she thought there were no more sobs or tears or hiccups left, more came.

"Shhh." He smoothed her hair, resting his cheek against her crown. "It's okay, baby."

Years passed in his arms, and she calmed, the sobs turning to hiccups, the hiccups to mere sniffs. His arms strong like she remembered, before the cancer, held her up as the heavy metal of grief and the poison of guilt drained away. She never wanted to lift her head again because she knew that the end would come. He would leave.

"Don't be afraid to love him," David said. "Let me go. But no matter what anyone ever tells you, I loved you from the start."

She lifted her head, a tightness around her eyes. He'd said something similar before he died. His eyes radiated love, and her confusion melted into a peaceful smile.

"Okay," she whispered.

He nodded, satisfied, and released her. His hand hovered in the air as he backed away, turned to go, and then jerked back.

"Patrick." He pointed a finger at her and narrowed his eyes. "It was Patrick." And then he vanished.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf followed Loti's fading presence back to the warehouse. He landed on the roof and ran for the side, leaping over its edge and slamming into the cement. He glanced unseeing at the gathering by the front door and tore the unlocked door off its hinges with a metallic scream and leaped through. At the other end of the warehouse, another metal door barred his way, and he struggled to tear it from the wall—this one was twice as thick and the locks and hinges fought back. Straining, the veins in his neck popping and his eyes bulging, the door frame reluctantly screeched apart.

"AH," His desperate voice echoed in the cavernous dark.

She was no longer in his head. Just a fuzzy presence brushed against his mind, almost gone. _Why? Why is she fading?_ She shouldn't be dying. It made no sense. When there was an opening big enough he squeezed through, the jagged metal tearing a ragged strip of cotton from his shirt. As he ran down the long corridor the air condensed around him, and he shoved against the magic shield Patrick had erected. He fought for every inch, one foot in front of the other in slow motion like he was in a great wind tunnel.

"Loti!" he yelled, his face twisted and gathered around itself.

With every ounce of preternatural strength he had, he fought the wall of magic, bursting through and flying against the last door in the unlit hallway. He dropped down the four flights of stairs, falling between the rails, and landed in a crouch. He flew down the corridor to the last door, blasting through without stopping. The door clanged and banged against the opposite wall, barely missing Loti's still form on the floor. Her head lulled to one side, an ugly bruise growing over both cheekbones, and a bloody pulp where her nose should have been. Her hair spilled around her, her arms splayed to either side of her head, elbows bent, and hands limp by her face. He fell on her, cradling her to him. Her head hung back, hair brushing the floor. Sitting back on his heels, he held his head to her chest. One heartbeat. His heart stopped. Alive. Barely.

"Loti?" he whispered into her ear. "Loti, I love you."

A bloody tear puddled on his upper lip. He cupped the back of her head with his hand, lifting her face to his. _She's cold_. He panted against the rising panic. Trembling, he pressed a tender kiss to her cool lips. When she didn't respond, he screwed his eyes shut, a fine trembling in his chest.

She swallowed.

"Loti?"

Her lips parted. _Kiss me, again_

He kissed her, and she breathed in. Something thick and warm slid up his throat, glided over his tongue, and into her mouth. She inhaled again, deeper, her belly expanding. He opened his mouth, giving whatever it was room. More of it slid from him to her. While they kissed, she came to life, wrapping eager arms around his neck. He held her tighter, his grateful hands running over her warming body. When they pulled away from each other, Loti's eyes roiled with dark and light like liquid obsidian. Wolf ran his fingers over her bruised cheeks. The bruises faded before his eyes, the wad of blood and tissue knitting together, reforming her upturned nose. A smile lit up her face and eyes.

"I love you, too."
Chapter 33

Katie set the stack of collapsed cardboard boxes on the kitchen table, looking around Patrick's tiny apartment. She never understood why he didn't buy a house. What was the point of wasting all that money on rent when he could have invested it in a home? Rachel and Loti carried more flat boxes through the kitchen archway. There was a sharp knock on the front door, and Katie trotted through the sparsely furnished living room.

"Professor Canon. Please come in." Katie opened the apartment door wide.

"No, Katie, I'm just here to deliver a message. I wouldn't want to intrude." He cleared his throat, an envelope clutched in his pudgy hand.

"What was so important you had to track me down here?" Her brow pinched at the sight of the envelope.

"Patrick asked me to give this to you in the event he passed." He wiped the back of his neck with a handkerchief. "I thought maybe he found out he had cancer. I had no idea . . . "

"None of us did, Roger." Katie's hand trembled as it grasped the envelope with the university's return address. She fingered its smoothness, her eyes clouding.

"I'll be going now." He gave a small, nervous smile.

"Have you read it?" she blurted out.

He tilted his chin up with a slight huff. "Of course not, Katie. I would never."

She nodded and smiled sadly, "Of course, Roger. I know you wouldn't do that. I don't know why—"

He cleared his throat again. "Well, I've kept my promise. If you'll excuse me." And he scurried in a jerky way down the hallway as if he was trying to walk, but his legs would have none of that. Katie leaned out the door looking after him, and then her eyes fell back to the envelope as she absently shut the door. Her name was scrawled across the envelope in Patrick's pointy script.

"What is it, Nanny?" Rachel stood in the middle of the living room, rubbing the heels of her hands over her hip bones. Loti stepped up to Katie and peered at the envelope.

"Is it from Patrick?" she asked.

Katie nodded, eyes still glued to the envelope as she walked to the kitchen. The girls trailed after her, as if they'd rather not, but couldn't stop themselves. She sat down in one of the rummage sale kitchen chairs. Resting elbows on the table, she pinched the corners of the envelope between the thumb and forefingers of each hand. She tapped it several times on the Formica table top before sliding a finger nail under the edge of the sealed flap, ripping it down the short side. Squeezing the long edges, she blew into the opening. She slid several pages of university stationary out and unfolded then. Her eyes ran across the page several times before they watered and spilled over, several tears spotting the handwritten letter. The papers shook as one hand wiped at the tears.

"I can't read it, Rachel," Katie cried. "Damn it." She wiped harder.

"Here, Nanny. Let me." Rachel took the letter from her and began to read:

My dearest Katie,

If you are reading this, I hope that it means things have worked out as best as they could, and I am dead and you and Rachel are safe. Thank the Divine. I hope I had the chance to tell you in person how much I loved you. The Divine knows how much I've tried not to, but I've learned that once you decide to love someone, you can never take it back.

You must be very confused about how your best friend could suddenly become an evil warlock—like a dark force from a scary fairytale. I can't give you any easy answers or reasons or concise explanations. All I can do is tell you the story of how I came to this. Isn't that all any of us can do in the end—tell our story? We can make excuses, we can elaborate and pontificate, but the truth lies in our history, each step we took along our personal path.

It started all those years ago when we were young and foolish—when we thought we could do anything, damn the consequences. You remember that night. I'm sure, like me, not a day has gone by for you that you don't at least touch that day with your mind—a whisper or a shadow brings you back there and you think, "But for a broken shoelace, it could have all been different." But it was what it was. We played with forces we didn't understand, and we cast the circle in the basement at midnight.

The portal opened, and you were sucked away. You never could bring yourself to tell us what it was like there, and we never pressed for answers. That scar on your thigh haunted me always. We tried to bring you back right away, but the portal winked out of existence as soon as you were gone. You know what we told you, that we ran to Professor Wesley for help that night, but what we didn't tell you was how he dropped his head in his hands and cried. I think my heart stopped right then.

We spent two days searching through old grimoires, while Professor Wesley made calls to friends and associates asking guarded questions for help. By the end of the second day, we were desperately terrified, and maybe that's what Modore was waiting for. A man showed up and called himself Professor Doremo, and gave a name—some mutual friend of Professor Wesley's—saying he had a solution, but it would require a promise from Joe and me. Wesley gave him an emphatic no for an answer, but Doremo impressed upon us that we better hurry because where you had gone, time worked differently.

We thought the worst, of course, that you might die of old age or starvation or at the hands of some monster before we figured out how to get you back. Doremo gave us his card to contact him, if we changed our minds, he said. When he left, Wesley said in no uncertain terms that we were not to contact the man, but he'd said the right things, or wrong things, to frighten us.

When Wolf showed up later that night, we had already made up our minds. We told him what happened, as you know, but we left out the part about Doremo. I don't know why, Katie. Maybe in the backs of our minds we thought he would try to stop us, and he would have. Of course, Doremo was Modore, and I learned later that Wolf knew Modore from his freedom-fighting days. Choices, Katie. It's all about choices.

We contacted him ourselves, against Wesley's wishes and without Wolf's knowledge, and he met us in the same library basement. He extracted a blood oath from us—that we would be beholden to him for the rest of our lives. If we betrayed him, then whoever we loved the most would die. And we were both in love with you, my dear. Always were. We swore the oath as we drank his blood, and I felt the magic bind my soul, Katie. I swear I felt it crawl inside my heart and bed down. It has remained, a dark thing roaming my soul, choking me all of my life, but Modore kept his word and walked us through the spell to bring you back.

We never told you because that might have been construed as a betrayal, and magic is such a tricky thing. There are pitfalls to magical contracts and oaths—and there is no being careful. You find yourself hurting the ones you love. There seem to be loopholes that you can slip through to freedom, but they are really nooses that snap to when you are just deep enough. Make the wrong move, just by a little, and we could have killed you. We kept quiet and years went by, and we didn't hear from Modore. We almost believed it was done. Almost.

It wasn't until after you and Joe married and your children were born that Modore reappeared. He called in his favor. You remember the trip, don't you? Joe and I went overseas, and you badgered us for answers. You were suspicious, but we told you we were working with the DOD through the university's contract. Warlocks were in need. It was easy, but you knew something was wrong. So did Wolf.

I won't burden you with the details of what we did, but it was in the act of performing Modore's dirty work that Joe died. You were so angry with me for letting him die, and I couldn't argue with you. Joe was mortally wounded, and I wanted to take him to a healer, but he said no. "Let me die, Patrick," he said to me. And I understood. He wanted to be released from his oath, to not have to do another horrible thing for Modore. We knew, if there was a hell, we were going, but even knowing that, death would be such a relief.

Joe died in my arms, and I cried for my friend, not just because I was sad that he died or that I would miss him every day of my life, but because it was over for him. Sweet release. He was at peace. And I cried for myself because I wished I could have died with him. You were right, when I returned without him, that I was suicidal, but I couldn't even risk that. What if killing myself would betray my oath? Would the magic kill you? I couldn't risk your life. I knew you hated me back then because I was alive and Joe wasn't. Believe me, if I could have died in his place that day, I would have.

Why does magic work that way? I struggled with that question my entire sorry excuse for a life, but never came up with a good answer. The only conclusion I ever came to was that it just is. I don't understand the price the Divine exacts, or why we have to pay with our hearts. Maybe it is just the price of love and light and life, that we hurt in some way to remind us that what we have, even the smallest of comforts, is good.

I tried not to love you, Katie, thinking I could break the oath that way. If I didn't love you, love anyone, then the oath would have no binding, but the more I tried not to love, the deeper in love with you I fell. I used to think my first mistake in this whole tale was when I chose to fall in love with you, but I'm not sure that was a choice. That deal was sealed the day I met you.

I tried to balance my karma, giving whatever I could, doing whatever I could for the least of these, but I knew it was impossible. You asked me once how I could look at the dirtiest bum on the street with such understanding and compassion, and do you remember my answer? If you do, then you know that the most selfless thing I ever did, the best thing I ever did, was letting Joe die that day.

Maybe we were selfish wanting to bring you back. Maybe it would have been better to leave you there, knowing what I know now, having performed some of the most heinous acts I could imagine. Maybe we should have taken the chance we would have figured it out on our own. I've had these thoughts every day of my life, but as it was, just two days in our reality had been three months where you were.

You never told me what happened in Purgatory—maybe you told Joe, but he never betrayed your trust. Would you have been able to find your way back? You're good at that, and maybe you would have. After you were safely back, I tried to recreate the spell Modore showed us, but I was never able to open that door again. I never knew how we did it until Loti came along.

I think maybe she and Wolf will discover that door, and many other things we all thought were fairytales—isn't it ironic that we would disbelieve anything when we live in a world full of magic? Maybe we need to reexamine all those old legends. We've all accepted some very fundamental lies about ourselves, but I think those two will help us all see the truth about ourselves and our world.

I hope with all my heart they find their way, and in so doing, lead the way.

I always loved you, Katie. I did some things that I am ashamed of, but I did learn that love was never a mistake. It was my lack of trust that defined me. I didn't trust myself or Joe or Bill Wesley or Wolf, and I didn't trust you. And for that, I am truly sorry. I paid for it with my life. Maybe now I am at peace, wherever I am. I do know that in this moment, as I write these words, I have reclaimed a tiny bit of hope. I have that small thing stuck under the lid of my existence, and I am grateful.

Please share my story, Katie. Maybe, my life can be the bridge to span the chasm I fell into, so that the next fair-haired youth whose feet must pass this way won't share my fate.

All my love,

Your Patrick

Nanny jumped from the chair and raced to Patrick's bookshelf. She yanked book after book off the shelf, staring at their spines, throwing them across the room.

"Nanny? What are you doing?" Rachel followed her into the living room.

"I need to find—it's got to be here." She glanced over at Rachel and Loti. "Help me."

Rachel put her hands on Nan's shoulders. "Tell me what we're looking for?"

"A poem by Dromgoole."

"The Bridge Builder?" Loti asked.

Nanny stopped cold. "Yes. How'd you know?"

"That was Patrick's favorite. He gave all us grandkids a copy of it." Rachel sprinted to the kitchen and ran back in with a picture frame.

"Here. It was hung over the table. Here."

Katie grabbed it out of her hand, eyes scanning the glass and she clutched to her chest.

"Oh dear Goddess," she sobbed the sobs of the lost souls. "He gave me a copy of this poem with my birthday present every year."

Loti and Rachel stared at her as she fell to her knees and they knelt down beside her, putting their arms around her convulsing shoulders. When her sobs quieted, they glanced up at each other, tears running down their faces.

"Can I ask you something, Nan?" Rachel asked.

Katie nodded, eyes closed, still clutching the picture frame.

"What was Patrick's answer? To your question about the bum on the street?"

Katie took a deep, tremulous breath, her eyes glazing over as she said, "His soul is no more wretched and lost than mine. We both long for the same redemption."
Chapter 34

Loti woke to bright sunlight. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed. Chic-a-dees hopped on the ground under the copper bird feeder, pecking at the scattered seed shells. _I need to refill that._ The beginnings of flower buds decorated the bare branches of the dogwood tree the feeder hung from. It arched gracefully over the gravel walkway that led from the side of her front porch to the circular driveway.

"Pull the curtain, will you?" Wolf grumbled, rolling over. She smiled at his bare back and did as he asked. "It still burns some." He rubbed his neck.

"Go back to sleep." She laughed as she curled around him, kissing his shoulder. He patted around behind him, grabbed her ass and yanked her up against him. She tucked the covers up around their necks and snuggled in. _Lavender_. She smelled lavender on the sheets and on Wolf's hair. She closed her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time she awoke the room was dim, and they had switched positions. Wolf spooned against her back, and she faced the window, a deep orange seeping around the curtains. She moved the drapes a few inches aside to see the black trees stark against the setting sun.

"Come back," Wolf murmured, pulling her into his arms.

She turned around and kissed him softly on the mouth. His hand tangled in her brown hair. She surrendered to him, and let him do everything he wanted. When she lay in the nook of his arm, winded and sated, his chin resting on her head the phone rang. He reached over, careful not to disturb her and picked up the receiver.

"Yeah?" He listened.

Loti arched her neck to see his face.

His eyes narrowed in concern and sadness flooded her chest and throat. "We'll be there." He held the receiver away from his face and pressed the end call button, dropping it to the bed. "We have to go to Dayalananda." Wolf adjusted so Loti could turn on her side, her face resting on his chest. "He's taking mahasamadhi."

"Gurudev?" Her voice quavered with Wolf's sadness, not her own, because although she was sad to know the ashram's heart would be leaving them, she'd only met him face to face a few times. Her heart picked up its pace, and she sat up, leaning on her hands, studying the ingrained stillness of Wolf's face. He had centuries to practice that mask, centuries to settle into its hardness, but she felt the anguish he hid so well. He knew she felt it and that's where the bit of irritation came from. What good had it been to work so hard at controlling himself now?

"You love him," she said in a gentle, reverent voice. "Tell me."

He turned his eyes to hers and nodded, pulling her down to him, holding onto her. She cradled his body with hers, slipping her thigh over his, sliding her hand over his stomach in little, soothing circles until he covered it with his own.

"Calisto and I met him in Rishikesh—you've been there?"

Loti nodded, her eyes closed as the memories flooded both their minds, the excitement of a new adventure after some very difficult times. It wasn't like they knew every little detail about each other's lives. The bond wasn't like that, now. During those first three transformational days, yes, they had been unable to pick and choose, and it nearly drove them both insane. Now, they could know each other's thoughts and feelings, even memories if they chose, but they could also choose not to share. The night they saved Buddy's life, they had merged, but it had been a complete understanding in that particular moment—yes, they had become one, but in the now. They knew the persona they were, the personality that they had each crafted out of the raw materials of experience, and they had touched their Higher Self.

What frightened them that night was the realization that the Higher Self was wordless, timeless, and no different. Somehow, it was both unique to each of them, like each jewel cut from raw gems was unique with its own flaws and angles, but the raw stuff was the same chemical makeup.

"He was a practicing sadhu at the time, and we were drawn to him like moths to a flame. His energy, kind of like yours, was a beacon, and it called to us." He laughed a quiet, subdued laugh. "He was funny as hell, didn't take himself as seriously as the other ash covered renunciants. He lived across the river in one of the cottages between the Ramjhula and Lakshmanjhula bridges, and his guru had passed several months before."

Wolf quietly told the story of how they met, the realizations they had together about dharma for all beings, not just humans, and the decision to start their own sacred space in the States. Unfortunately, at the time, emigration from India to the United States was limited by quotas and the fact that it was still under British rule.

"Calisto, Margarite, and I searched for a suitable place to build the ashram while Dayal recruited others to join us in the new world."

"Margarite?" Loti interrupted, but she already knew the answer to her own question. Margarite was much, much older than she appeared. "How old is she?"

"I think she is over 300 years old, but you figured that out, didn't you?" He shifted his head to look down at her.

She arched her neck to look up, but didn't sit up. "I figured out she'd at least been the same since the 1970s, but I had no idea she was that old." She settled herself back down and Wolf stroked her shoulder.

"She was born some time during the rule of Louis XIV, but I'm not sure when she and Calisto met."

"That's a benefit of the bond? The not aging?"

"Yes, I was never sure how it worked until . . . "

He didn't need to finish his sentence, she knew what he meant. When Wolf had broken through the spell, she was able to drink life force straight from him.

"By the 1960s the immigration quota had been lifted and we were finally able to get everyone safe passage, and since then we have been looking for you." He kissed her hair.

"I wasn't even born." She smiled.

"Maybe not into this cycle, but you were out there."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dayalananda sat propped up on his meditation pallet, a blissful smile on his face as Wolf and Loti entered his home. Calisto took Loti's hands in his, raising them to his face and kissing her knuckles. Margarite, Guided, and the guru's closest sannyasin dressed in orange garb sat around the room. Wrapped in a white blanket, Dayalananda's hands fluttered eagerly for them to approach.

"Wolf, my friend. So good to see you." He didn't sound the least bit sick or weak.

"Dayal." Wolf hugged him, kissed both his cheeks. Dayal patted his arms. "You have been my good friend, and I thank you for bringing this light into our lives." His wide hand reached out and gripped Loti's arm, pulling her close. His long beard and mustache tickled as he smacked wet kisses on her face and mouth.

"Good girl." He grinned, squeezing her arms, his nose just inches from her face. "You trusted yourself, didn't you?"

Loti blinked in surprise. "I don't know what you mean."

He smiled and nodded, his moist eyes bright. "Easier to do, once you know who you are, hmm?" His head tilted, and Loti burst out laughing. His mischievous smile spread to his laughing eyes. The monks murmured and chuckled, but Dayalananda flapped a hand at them. "Shhh." He winked at Loti.

"You must watch this with your special eyes." He patted her arms repeatedly. "Maybe you will let our friend Wolf see too, heh?"

She couldn't stop the giggles. Loti winked at him as Wolf sat down on the edge of the padded palette, rubbing her back.

"We've seen a lot together, haven't we?" Wolf contemplated the sash of flowers around Dayalananda's neck. White and pink flower petals were scattered around the palette and in his lap. Red talik was smeared on his forehead, yellow and white ash around his forehead and beard.

"You know what my favorite day with you was, Wolf?" Dayalananda held Loti's hands, but looked at Wolf. Wolf smiled before he looked up.

"What?" But he already knew.

"August 15, 1969. The day I said the opening prayer." They grinned at each other.

"Good music." And they laughed the way old friends do. Calisto joined in, sitting down on the other side, a sad smile on his face.

"I don't want to lose you, my friend." Calisto sighed.

"Ah, Calisto." He patted his hand and picked up a handkerchief from his lap. "See this hanky?" He held it up by two corners so it sagged into a triangle. "Hmm, see the hanky? Nothing else, yes?" Calisto grinned as Dayalananda tied two of the corners in a knot. "Now what it is?"

"It's a hanky with a knot," Calisto said.

"Yes, now." And he untied the knot. "What is it?"

"A hanky without a knot."

"Just a hanky, yes?' He tied the knot again. "Knot." And held it up. "Now, watch carefully and tell me in which direction the knot goes."

He slid the knot apart and held the hanky up. "Where did the knot go?" And he chuckled. "Hmm, and where from it came?" He held the hanky up for a long moment, smiling kindly at Calisto. "Huh?" He lowered the hanky and began tying it again. That is death and life. Knot was born." He finished the knot and started untying it. "And then knot was dead. But before the knot, hanky _was_." He laughed and Calisto and everyone in the room laughed with him. "And after the knot, hanky _is_." Holding the untied hanky aloft, he chuckled, smiling his great love around the room.

Loti laid a hand on her throat. Was it sadness veiled with happiness she felt? Or the other way around?

"That is the secret of death, Calisto. We don't really lose anything." He blew his nose with a honk into the hanky and balled it up in his lap. He patted Loti's cheek. "Now, you watch, hmm?"

She nodded as Wolf took her hand and lowered her down next to him. Margarite and Guided took their turns exchanging hugs and words with Gurudev. He sank deeper into the cushions and turned his eyes to a wrinkled woman in one of the chairs. She stood up, her long braid hanging down the back of her orange kurta. She handed out shawls to everyone and with deliberate movements, wrapped one around her head and shoulders. Loti and the others did the same. She stood with a humble bow of the head by Sri Swami Dayalananda, eyes closed and hands pressed together in prayer, Namaste hands.

In a shrill, high voice she broke the stillness, singing the mantra, "Om mani Padme hum", drawing it long and sweet. She repeated it several times, and then a deeper, male voice joined her. One by one, everyone added their voices to the mantra. Loti always had trouble understanding what it meant. A monk once told her it had no simple translation, that all the teachings of the Buddha were summed up in its six syllables, but the best anyone had come up with was, "the jewel is in the lotus or praise to the jewel in the lotus." But that didn't matter. It was the saying of it, the singing of the sounds that was important.

As they sang she thought of all the suffering they had been through, that her new friends had endured and her husband. The sadness didn't choke her anymore. She glanced at Wolf who slipped an arm around her. What was the cause of all their suffering? Was it Modore? Was it Patrick? And was there ever a way to avoid it? She had no simple answers.

What she had was a deep and abiding love for them all—for Wolf, yes, but for Calisto and Margarite and even Fiamette. _Maybe that's the answer: compassion._ What else was there to ease or even end suffering but kindness, random and purposeful acts to bring light into everyone's life? There was quite enough hate and greed and anger in the world, she was sure. The least she could do was release some love into the fray, a peace offering, a floating, flickering emissary of hope on a sea of suffering.

Dayalananda eased his entire body into the pillows, his hands losing their deliberateness, surrendering in his lap. He sang "Aum" with long, soft exhales. The light in the room flowed with their voices, colors merged and separated within them so the boundaries were hard to find. Loti reached deep into Wolf's prana until they were like one being. He saw through her eyes, and she felt with his heart. Their heart beats slowed; their breathing so subtle it was like the air wandered in and out of their lungs with no effort. Together they watched the light lose the distinction of separate beings until a clear, white light engulfed them all, and Dayalananda's light was the light in the room. Bliss and gratitude seeped out their eyes, and the light grew brighter until it flared wide, then faded. The room returned to a peaceful flow of prana.

Feeling less contained, more a part, Loti touched Dayalananda's still hand and wrapped her fingers around it.

"He's gone," she whispered.
Epilogue

The room fluttered in the orange glow of a sputtering fire. Soft suckling noises faded, stopped, and then a fair-haired youth slumped to the couch. The black-haired man sitting beside him licked his lips. It was difficult to assess exactly how old he was; he had an aura of agelessness about him. His washed-out eyes held a strange energy—a blend of religious zeal and childish eagerness.

"That was divine, Mark." He patted the blonde's jean-clad leg.

Mark said nothing. His heart had stopped beating.

"I can't survive on these generous gifts much longer," Modore said to the corpse. "I need a new warlock to spike my meals. You just didn't have Patrick's talent, I'm sorry to say. But," He rubbed the young man's leg, "your magic tasted like lightning. So close, but not quite powerful enough, although your gift should last me another year or so."

He sighed as he glided off the black leather couch and over to the stone fireplace. He studied the flames, as if they were speaking to him, and maybe they were. All things flowed with life; some more than others.

"I have lived far longer than any vampire I have ever known or heard of." Modore's eyes reflected the dying flames. "And I doubt any one knows what I know."

He spun around to his companion.

"I do hope Christian's new pet is as powerful as he says." His mouth tightened into a grimace as he scooped Mark up into his arms. Gazing down at Mark's lifeless eyes, Modore's expression softened. "You know I had no choice, my dear? If you had been able to . . . like Patrick. Well, ifs and hopes do not solutions provide, do they? If she can produce the quality of magic required, I won't need to do the same to her. And, hopefully," he released a derisive snort, "she will bring me my Light Walker and this will never be necessary, again."

To be continued...

Continue on to read a sneak peek of

samskaras

Book 2

Love and Light Series

Chapter 1

Christian leaned against his grey Jaguar watching the cars crawl by and the pedestrians play chicken with the traffic. The city came to life in sauntering groups of humans buried in a haze of laughter and banter. The clatter of the city was a cocoon of solitude for Christian and he settled into it with relief. It was good to be back and away from Modore's insanity—for a while. He shivered and two seconds later his smartphone tweeted. _Speak of the devil_. He scowled and with movements too quick to see, he put the phone to his ear.

"Yes?"

"We need you to make your move, Christian." Even over the cell signal, Modore's voice cracked with agitation. "Now."

Christian's eyes darted over the bustling street as he tensed. "Already? I think we might be pressing our luck."

"Oh, I think you are perfectly capable of bringing the red witch into the fold."

A taxi cab honked at a stumbling group of giggling women. Christian glanced up at the rush of laugher. He didn't doubt Modore's words, but he had wanted to play this out in his own way. Slowly, a step at a time, would have worked better for this quarry. She was guarded and locked down in general, but acted especially cautious around him. She had excellent instincts. But, of course, he couldn't say no to his maker.

"As you wish." His words rang with resignation.

Modore chuckled like a parent indulging a child. "My dear Christian, you are my favorite. Do you know that?"

Christian's lips twitched. "I'm flattered." An ambulance siren blared somewhere in the city. "So why the hurry?" He crossed to the driver's side of his Jaguar.

"Let's just say Mark had such great promise."

Christian tucked his free hand under the opposite arm and sagged against the car considering if he should even ask what happened to Mark. He was so young and so full of potential. Some questions were better left unasked when it came to Modore, and Christian hadn't risen in Modore's estimation by accident. At one time, Christian had an uncanny ability to choose the right things to say to his maker, but not lately. The ancient vampire was on the edge and Christian no longer knew what would set him off.

"And my Light Walker is still not mine." Was it Christian's imagination, or was Modore pouting? What was it about this Light Walker? Christian had never heard of a Light Walker before he'd met Modore. Why was he so hell bent on claiming her?

Christian glanced around the street as he opened the car door. "I think you should let the Light Walker go, Modore. Why do we need her? We can accomplish our goals without her."

When Modore didn't respond, Christian paused midway into the driver's seat. _Don't move; don't even breathe,_ he cautioned himself. Christian knew he'd stepped in it. _Damn._

Repressing a sigh he said, "But I am yours to command."

"Good boy."

Christian flinched as he eased himself into the leather seat. Was he a mutt in training, again? Those were days he didn't want to relive.

"Trust me. This may take some doing, but in the end, we will reap the rewards."

Modore hung up and Christian tossed his cell phone on the console. He stared unseeing at the squirming city life, white knuckling the leather steering wheel. He wasn't opposed to bonding with the red witch, not anymore. As a matter of fact, he was concerned over his growing infatuation with her and wondered if he wasn't losing his edge. That could be deadly.

At the thought of her, something moved in his chest and things lower flexed. He groaned and dropped his forehead to the steering wheel. In another lifetime, under any other circumstances, he would have enjoyed seducing her. Wasn't it enough that he had sold his own soul to the devil?

"Damn it all to hell." He snapped his head up and punched the dashboard, the louvers in the vent shattering. The rewards Modore was so eager for were exactly what Christian was afraid of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heather leaned close to her reflection, fluffing her red mane and pressing glossed lips together. Dabbing at them with well-manicured fingers, she straightened while she adjusted the beaded bra top. The club music thumped inside her chest, although the dressing room door muffled the actual words to the song. Next to her, Tara and Rochelle patted sweat from their necks and chests with white washcloths.

"It's packed tonight." Glancing at Heather, Tara said, "You look perfect."

"Did you see him?" The words were out of Heather's mouth before she knew what she was going to say. Carefully arranging her features into a bored expression, she turned to Tara and leaned on the make-up counter.

The doe-eyed blonde shook her head. "No, sorry sweetie." She pursed her lips into an apologetic frown. "But you know how it is from the stage. You can't see faces, unless they sit upfront, which he never does."

Looking away to hide the frown she couldn't subdue, Heather tugged at a bra strap. "Yeah, I know."

"Hey." Rochelle ran the back of her index finger under one eye as she leaned close to the mirror. "You aren't getting hung up on this guy, are you?" Stretching out her face, she inspected for more running mascara, then wiped her hands on the wash cloth. Straightening, she peered out of the corner of her eye at Heather. "You know better than that."

"No." Heather fussed with her blue harem pants and beaded belt. "He's just nice to look at. Gives me somebody to focus on, you know?"

"Mmm hmm. I know that look, girlfriend." Rolling her eyes, Rochelle tossed the stained washcloth into a bin.

Heather slipped her silk veil through the breakaway loops on her belt, careful to keep her eyes on her own business. She didn't think she was hung up on him, but she had grown accustomed to him being there, and he hadn't shown up in several weeks. She jerked on the veil and one of the Velcro loops ripped free. She huffed as she refastened it. _Lesson learned, again. Don't count on anything or anybody, especially a handsome vampire with piercing blue eyes that goes by the name of Christian._ At the last refrain of the music, she whirled towards the dressing room door.

"Heather." The stage director's voice buzzed through the intercom. "You're up next."

"Coming."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once on stage, she was grateful to slip into the zone. Raul announced her and the curtain rose. Heather was a mere shadow cast on blue silk stretched between her upraised hands. Sensual music urged her to life as the veil wavered in her hands around, over, and behind her in figure eights, big sweeps and tight turns. It slipped over her head and down her body, hiding the slow sweep of her hips. Swirling around, she exposed glimpses of smooth shoulders and soft belly. She took a moment to search the crowd, reaching out for Christian with both her eyes and her magic, but he wasn't there. Almost missing her cue, she packed the disappointment deep down in her stomach and carried on.

As the veil part of her routine came to an end, she exposed her back to the cheering crowd. Dropping the veil so that it pooled at her feet, she flicked her hips to each measure of the drum. When the beat quickened, so did her hips. That's when she felt him.

Her heart kept pace with the music as she turned to find him. His electric blue gaze grazed her skin like a physical touch, and her shiver fueled her belly's undulations. How had she gotten so hung up on him? And what did she think was going to happen? And where had he been for three weeks?

" _Be careful, puddin'."_ It was her mother's voice. Dead for over two years, she still managed to nag from the grave.

Christian smiled at her and her dance became more playful. All thoughts fell away as she beckoned to him with her arms, her hands, her legs. Her hips took on a life of their own, pulling her first in one direction, then the other. Spinning in circles, snapping her head around, careful to find him at each turn, she used him like an anchor. He sat just inside the haze of lights, so she could make out his face and his mildly amused expression. She stretched out with her magic.

I missed you.

He rewarded her with a sultry smile. She flipped her long, red hair over her head, bowing to him. Her hips gyrated as she lifted up, wiping the hair away from her face as if waking from a deep sleep. The music thinned until all that remained was the sharp slap of a distinct beat, her torso flexing and jumping with it. The drum quickened and so did her hips: tick—flip tock—flick. The coins dangling from her belt made their own music. Christian's gaze intensified and so did her dance. She grasped an invisible rope one hand at a time, dragging herself across the stage, her hips slinking as if they had a life of their own. She tossed her hair side to side as the crowd cheered, her feet stepping out in the opposite direction, legs stretched long. The dance became all about the shimmy as she turned her backside to the crowd, gliding upstage, coins jangling. The drums spun her to the right, then to the left, and she ended with a flourish: chest thrust forward, head back, arms over her head. Applause and hoots from the crowd crescendoed as she stepped off the stage, trailing the veil after her.

"Our beautiful Heather!" Raul clapped his hands over his head and then introduced the next act as Heather prowled through the crowd, exposing the gold garter belt around her firm thigh. One of the bouncers walked with her, a watchful wrinkle between his eyes as men tucked bills into the garter. Heather's heart pounded in her ears as she approached Christian, but she curled her lips into a seductive smile.

"You didn't do the sword dance tonight." His blue eyes smoldered as he rose from his seat.

She ran the veil through her fingers, letting it glide down her thigh. Without looking up she asked, "Are you disappointed?

He lifted her chin with a finger—a move the bouncer would never have allowed if it wasn't Christian Harris. His smile liquefied her insides while his eyes had their way with her. Maybe that was why her dance became so effortless when he watched her, why she flowed like water.

"Not at all." Dropping her chin, he held her gaze as he sank back into his chair. His fingers trailed down her thigh until they met the garter. He tucked several bills into it and glanced up as Raul approached.

"Mr. Harris," Raul beamed, "we've missed you."

Christian stood to take his hand with a guarded smile. "Glad to be back, Raul. I trust you are taking very good care of our Heather."

"Of course. She is one of our finest dancers." Raul's smile was big enough for his gold tooth to glint.

Heather dropped her gaze and hid a smile behind her hand. Raul had been a pisser when the Gentleman's Club hired her two years ago, but she taught him that it wasn't wise to push her buttons or treat the dancers with anything less than respect. There were benefits to being a witch, and Raul had learned that lesson well.

Christian turned away from Raul, making a point of addressing Heather. "Do you have a moment, before your next show?"

"Yes. I don't go on again for another hour." She glanced at Raul who confirmed with a nod. "But let me change, first. Will you be in your VIP room?"

"Yes," was all he said, but his eyes said things that made her dizzy.

Raul clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! Heather, maybe Rochelle and Tara would like to join you all?"

"No, if you please Raul, I'd like a moment alone with Heather." Christian gave Raul a meaningful look.

"Of course, Mr. Harris. Would you like me to send anything up for you? Champagne, perhaps?"

"That would be wonderful, Raul."

They were still talking when Heather slipped away with the bouncer towards the dressing room before she could hear any more of Raul's gushing. _Disgusting_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mmm mmm, girlfriend, he's back." Rochelle laughed as Heather ran to her dressing station.

"Shut up, Rochelle." But she grinned as she said it, and Rochelle laughed harder as she shimmied out of her G-string.

"I'm not going to say another goddamn thing. You're a big girl." She squeezed Heather's arm. "Just watch out." Her eyes softened as she said it.

"I thought you weren't going to say 'another goddamn thing'?" Heather rummaged around in her bag.

Rochelle shook her head as she turned to walk away. "You're a lost soul, lady."

Heather huffed as she stood up with a handful of satin. "I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I'm sure." Rochelle called over her shoulder as her bare ass badunkadunked all the way to the bathroom.

Heather toweled off and changed into a pair of shiny black pants and a matching halter top. She sprayed her hair with a beach spray that smelled like fresh air and gave her hair a lift after a sweaty performance. She didn't fuss too much with her thick, red hair, just ran her fingers thought it. Natural fit her act best, and her personality. Her pale blue eyes sparked back at her in the vanity and she ran off to the VIP balcony. Christian was back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she arrived, he was reading a novel, of all things, slumped on the red velvet couch. As she closed the door behind her, he set the book next to the champagne bucket on the aluminum and glass coffee table.

"How are you, Heather?" His smile was more than welcoming as he patted the cushion next to him. She hesitated, trying to sneak a look at what he was reading, but sat down, tucking her hands between her thighs to avoid picking at her lip. It was a bad habit her mother had scolded her about.

"Where have you been?" She pouted through the heavy sensation in her head. He chuckled and she thought she would swoon like a fair maiden in a spaghetti western. _None of that_ , she admonished herself. His hand caressed the tight, black satin over her thigh.

"Business to attend to. It happens." The piped in music changed to something Bollywood and Heather rolled her eyes.

"Raul," they said in unison.

His eyes searched her face, and then as if he found what he was looking for, he leaned in to kiss her with cool lips. Was it absolutely ridiculous that her belly lit up and she couldn't breathe? She closed her eyes and wondered what she thought she was doing. _No touching._ There were rules, but she was on a break and officially off the clock.

And she was so tired of fighting the want, the need to touch him and to be touched by him. She let her hands slide up his arms to his shoulders, embarrassed that they trembled. When he pulled away, she hid her disappointment, flashing a smile at him. Something dark flitted across his eyes, but she ignored it—and the warning clench in her stomach.

"You missed me?" Christian's eyes had a bad habit of stripping her down, making her feel naked even when she was fully clothed. She wanted to push him away for it, and yet pull him closer at the same time.

Instead, she licked her lips. "That's what I said." Her eyes drifted over his face, searching for clues in the tension of his jaw and the curl of lip.

"Actually, you thought it, but haven't said it." He sat back, but those eyes pulled her with him.

She had to make a conscious effort to sit up. Men had come and gone for as long as she could remember, and she had learned to keep them all at arm's length, starting with her mother's boyfriends. Then with the boys who winked and leered and groped. And now with the clientele and a rare date—no one got close enough to count, anymore. At least no one had for a long time. She studied her French manicured hands in her lap, the diamond decals glinting up at her. His hand appeared, covering both of hers.

"You know, you should run away from me as fast as you can." His words were so quiet, she wasn't sure she heard him right, but she didn't look up.

The coiling anxiety in her solar plexus told her what she needed to know. She shouldn't trust him; he was dangerous; he was trouble; he was beautiful. Yep, she knew what that added up to. Yet, something else told her he was trustworthy, that he did care for her. Was that wishful thinking? And which instinct should she trust? She looked straight at him, and his eyes betrayed his own doubt.

"Why would you say that to me?"

"I just..." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I don't want you to get mixed up with this, with me."

"That's a strange thing to say." Heather brushed the bangs from his eyes.

Closing them, a smile bloomed across his handsome face. When he opened his eyes, all doubt was laid to rest.

"Forget it." His eyes roiled, and she did.

"Where have you been?" Her head hurt, and she rubbed her temple, pouting. _Need to drink more water._

"Business trip, but I'm back." When he kissed her, he pressed her to the back of the couch with an urgency that she relished. The thought that she didn't want to fight this anymore rushed in with the euphoria of his kiss and her hands made up their own minds. They slid around his neck as his hands wrapped around her waist.

"You taste like dessert," he mumbled.

"Oh, please don't say stupid stuff like that," she murmured into his mouth.

He chuckled. "Okay. I won't say anything." And he didn't say another goddamn thing for the next hour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heather's next show was at midnight and she glanced towards the stage as she rushed down the stairs. Tara's routine was winding down, which meant she had five minutes to get dressed and out on stage. She scratched the healing bite marks on her inner thigh. Bursting through the dressing room door, her spiked heels clicked a staccato across the tiled floor. _No time to do this the regular way._

Glancing around at the other girls, she stepped into the bathroom, shut the door and leaned on it. She closed her eyes, picturing the sword dance outfit, and the air shimmied and sparkled around her. When it died down, she wore skintight gold pants that flared out like a wide ruffle at the knees with a slit up the back. A grey and gold glittered wrap covered the gold bra top, while a matching veil hid all but her eyes. She grabbed the sword leaning beside her as she ran out the bathroom door just as the stage manager's voice squawked over the intercom.

"No fair, Heather." Rochelle cackled after her as she dove out the dressing room door. "I know what you were doing."

"So burn me at the stake," Heather yelled over her shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After her show, she stopped short at the sight of Christian waiting by the dressing room door. He usually disappeared after her last performance.

"You're done for the night?" She flashed back on his bare, broad chest, now hidden under tailored cotton. Heather's breath caught in her throat. What was it about him? Besides the stunning good looks, hypnotizing eyes, and talented hands, that is? Had she lost her mind? Or was he something special?

"Yes." She wrapped a lock of red hair around a finger. "What do you have in mind?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to grab a bite to eat?" He gave her no clues with which to read his mood. He had none of the nervous ticks men usually displayed while talking to her. He was that controlled, more so even than the other vampires she had met.

A nervous giggle escaped before she could stop it. "You don't eat."

He pressed a hand to his chest, his eyebrows lifting in a wounded gesture. "But you do, and I'd like to take you out."

Her heart froze, and then tripped over itself starting back up. She crossed her arms over her chest, resisting the urge to lick her lips. "That's very sweet, but management—"

"Don't worry about management, Heather." He waited expectantly, hands folded over each other as he stood in his charcoal slacks and crisp, white shirt with silver cufflinks. She studied his hands.

" _Those hands have never worked for a living,"_ her mother's voice warned in her head. Heather bristled. They had disagreed often, when Lena, her mother, was alive. Sometimes, their arguments ended with broken things. And right now, Heather was quite certain Christian worked very hard indeed, but not the way her mother's boyfriends had. He was smarter, with more lucrative results.

Heather lifted her chin. "Okay, I need to get my purse and change."

His radiant smile warmed her stomach and she pressed a hand to her belly. "Meet me by the coat check."

He sauntered towards the front of the club and her lips parted. What the hell had made her say yes? Some twisted defiance of her mother? She rubbed the side of her face and sucked in a breath. She had her own rules and one of them was never date the clientele. She shoved her doubt aside and blew out a deliberate breath. Decision made. Maybe she was tired of being alone, but she wanted to follow Christian wherever he might lead.
Chapter 2

Out in the cool night, Christian tipped the valet and walked around to open the Jaguar's passenger door. Heather pushed a stray tendril behind an ear, smiling at him as she stepped into the car. He was truly beyond handsome, something unrivaled by men in movies and magazines, and she wondered why he liked her.

Not that she was anything to sneeze at. She was good looking enough to have attracted the club manager's attention and the clientele liked her well enough, but she was a dancer. That usually limited her pick of men. The ones brazen enough to approach her were usually drunk, full of themselves or unstable, and she never dated anyone she met at the club.

" _You're in over your head, puddin'."_ She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Sometimes, she wondered if there wasn't something wrong with her. Did other people hear their dead mother's voice?

Her stomach felt hollow and worse, like it was imploding in on itself. This was not a good idea. She was suddenly so sure of it, she almost leapt out of the car, but he closed the door just then. Bracing against the spike of adrenalin, she leaned her head back.

" _He's vampire. Isn't that enough?"_ Heather snapped her head up.

_But Christian isn't like the others, Momma._ The others seemed to be led by their own dark impulses, while Christian was much more measured, in control.

" _Well, anyone that rich can't be trusted."_ She could even hear her mother's dismissive sniff.

His wealth was obvious, from the tailor-made clothes—not a stitch off the rack— to the Jag and the hundred dollar bills he stuffed into her garter. The Gentlemen's Club catered to the elite, the wealthy and the wild, but Christian had management tripping over themselves. She suspected the car she sat in was one of many, and probably nowhere near the most expensive.

While she liked expensive things, she wasn't overly impressed by them. She made quite a bit at dancing, and also brought in money with her witchcraft. While it was frowned upon by the middle-class covens, she sold her craft to the highest bidder, choosing to look the other way when what her clients wanted was unethical, and sometimes even illegal. She wouldn't go so far as to kill anyone, lord no, but she understood revenge or the need to get them before they got you.

The door opened dispelling the disquieting thoughts, and Christian climbed behind the steering wheel. "What are you hungry for?" He studied her in a way that made her want to squirm.

She almost said _"Whatever you like,"_ but stopped herself. "Do have any insights into where I could get a good steak at this hour?"

His white teeth flashed as he slipped the key into the ignition. "I do."

The engine purred as they cruised past the Capital building lit up against the backdrop of a starless night. Somewhere between the club and that moment, the tension drained from her neck and her headache with it. It didn't make any sense to her, but just being with him made her feel...well, better, more at peace with herself. She let it go, mostly because she liked the feeling. She wanted to be with him, despite all the warning system alerts.

She wanted _him_. He put all her daydreams of the perfect man to utter shame.

They drove in a somewhat comfortable silence to wherever they were going. Christian's intense eyes never wavered from the road. Heather occupied herself by studying the people walking down the city streets on a Friday night, looking for fun in groups of threes and fours. Occasionally, she shifted furtive eyes in his direction, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It was 1:00 a.m. and last call was 2:00 a.m. in the city of law and order, but the afterhours clubs would just be opening.

At the restaurant, Heather ordered a petite filet with a house salad, while Christian picked the wine.

"I've always wondered how vampires can drink, but not eat." Folding her hands in her lap, she leaned forward as Christian handed the wine menu back to the waiter. With elbows on the table, he spread his fingers and tilted his head.

"Who knows? It just is." He interlaced his fingers under his chin, his gaze warm and hungry.

With a demure smile, Heather leaned her chin on her hand. "So, you don't know or you won't say?"

"We don't like to give our secrets away, but..." He flicked his hand. "I don't know. I don't care, either. Doesn't interest me."

"What does interest you?"

His eyes followed her movements as she shifted back and flipped her hair over a bare shoulder. She wore a satin halter top in a rich, dark blue that complemented her pale coloring.

"You." His voice slipped over her skin like cool silk, a pleasant shudder rippling through her. Her smile revealed recently polished and whitened teeth.

"I like the sound of that."

He sat back as the waiter arrived with their wine. Tasting it, Christian nodded in approval. The waiter poured and left quietly.

"I have a proposition I'd like you to consider," Christian said as he placed his wine glass judiciously on the white linen.

" _Here we go, puddin'. I told you."_

Heather's stomach flipped in disappointment. _Damn_. Keeping her eyes on his, she sipped her wine. "Okay." She set her glass down. "I'm listening."

What would it be this time? He wanted to keep her as his mistress? Here were the rules; this is what he expected— blah, blah, blah. She said no to all the other offers, so far, but she worried that she couldn't say no to him. She didn't want to say no to him.

His brow furrowed as his hand reached towards hers. "You don't like this. I haven't even told you what the proposition is."

She slipped her hand off the table before he could touch it. Under the heaviness of his unsettling gaze, she adjusted the waistband of her pants and smoothed the hair away from her face. "That's a very telling way to start a conversation." She picked her wine glass back up. "It's never anything I like."

His eyebrows arched over bright eyes and he shifted closer to her. "Tell me."

She drank, taking her time, fully aware of the dramatic pause. "Well, it usually begins with 'I'm married, but would like to keep seeing you.'"

"I'm not married."

She eyed him. "And ends with a list of rules about what I can and cannot touch."

One corner of his mouth lifted. "I don't have those kinds of rules. Nothing's off limits."

"And somewhere in there is a key to a Porsche, a beach house and a credit card."

His shoulders and jaw relaxed as he shifted back, his arms resting on the edge of the table. "I have all those, but that's not the kind of proposition I had in mind."

She blinked, her eyes widening. "No?"

"No." He waved a hand. "I just wanted to know if you would spend the night with me."

She blushed, not something she did often. _Oh, wow._ She had certainly jumped the gun, but she was so sure when he used the word "proposition". In her experience, conversations that started with a proposition always ended with compensation.

"Well, of course. It's not like we haven't—" but she cut herself off as the waiter showed up with her food. She smiled at him as he asked the usual questions. She answered politely and draped her napkin over her lap before picking up her silverware.

When the waiter was out of earshot, she inclined her head. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Christian raised both eyebrows.

"For being so presumptuous." She cut into her medium rare steak. Christian waived a dismissive hand.

"Not at all. I expect you've had quite a few propositions." He watched her eat with something like fascination. Her mouth full, she nodded. He waited while she chewed and swallowed, and then washed the steak down with a sip of wine.

"That's it, then? Just a sleepover?"

"Well, for starters, but I also have some work you might be interested in."

" _Ah ha! See? Watch out, little girl. He's up to something."_

Heather stared at him. "I'm not a prostitute, whatever Raul might have told you."

Amusement flickered in his eyes, although his face remained impassive. She set her fork and knife down without making a sound and reached for her purse. "I think I'd better get a cab."

"Wait." Christian stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He was part-way out of his seat, authentic regret in his eyes.

" _Don't trust him. Any man that will put a hand on you can't be trusted."_

Heather scrutinized his face for any signs of violence, but there weren't any. That didn't mean much, she knew, but it was a half-way good sign.

"Please, sit. Finish your meal. I didn't mean anything like that."

Flutters filled her belly and she knew she wouldn't be able to eat another bite. "I don't want you to think there's anything other than personal interest here. I like you, Christian. Period. I enjoy your company. I like when you come to watch me dance. That's it. I'm not—"

"Shhh, Heather, it's okay. Relax." His eyes seized hers, and she sank back into her seat, the hard lines around her mouth melting. The flutters disappeared and she nodded dreamily as she released her purse back to the floor and picked up her silverware, eyes fixed on Christian. His head bobbed in unison with hers as he resettled himself in his chair.

"What kind of work?" she asked, as if the thought of leaving had never occurred to her.

"Witchcraft kind of work."

She stared at him with the fork halfway to her mouth. "What kind of witchcraft?" Sliding the meat from her fork with her teeth, she chewed it, her wary eyes on him the whole time.

"Nothing you wouldn't be willing to do." Christian poured more wine with an air of nonchalance. "And I can tell you are very powerful."

"Is that a vampire trick?" She ran a finger over the rim of the wine glass before picking it up and sipping.

"No, it's something I could do before I was turned." Christian's eyes shifted to his glass as he drank his wine. "You are in possession of some rare talent."

"No, I'm not. I can do some basic things, but I'm not that talented." She dropped her fork, looking down and around her with a wrinkled brow. _Where the heck did the napkin go?_ She ducked down and popped back up with the white linen.

"Heather, yes you are." He leaned his face close to hers, setting the wine glass aside. "You just haven't explored your potential, yet. And, I think I can help you develop your abilities beyond anything you might imagine."

"You can?" She emphasized you as she fussed with the napkin in her lap.

He raised his eyebrows, "If you will allow me, yes."

"And what do you get out of this?" She frowned as she stabbed at a tomato, no longer looking at him.

"Well, I get to know you much better." His voice penetrated her skin, caressing deep places inside her.

Squirming with the disquieting notion, Heather rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. That can't be it."

He eased back, his eyes narrowing. "Why can't that be it?"

Fingering her glass, her eyes dashed around the room. _Is he serious? What does he really want? Come on Mom, talk to me._ But for once, she wasn't there with some know-it-all quip.

"Because, that's rarely all any man wants." Her gaze fell to her plate. That's what her mom would have said, she was sure.

"Ah, but I'm not a man." At her alarmed look, he added, "I'm a vampire."

She flapped a hand over the table. "That just means you walk on the dangerous side of the street." She grabbed her wine and gulped it down. When she set it on the table, Christian promptly topped off her glass. "You don't need to loosen me up, Christian." She tittered, assuring herself that it was just the wine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at his place—a penthouse, of course—Heather stalked around his living room, arms crossed under full breasts. Christian pressed a button and a fire blazed to life in the glass and metal fireplace. He flipped a switch and the vertical blinds covering an entire wall slid silently out of the way, revealing the sparkling D.C. skyline. The Monument and the Tidal Basin glowed as a helicopter made its rounds. The cherry trees were about to burst and the blossom festival would besiege the city in a few days. She pivoted on her silver stilettos as his cool hands slid down her bare arms. He threaded his fingers through hers.

"I want you to be mine," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. Her breath rushed out of her lungs as she closed her eyes. She knew what that meant, had been asked once before by another vampire, but not one she was willing to sell her soul to.

"Why?" Her voice twitched with her nervousness and excitement.

"Because I find you breathtaking. Because you intrigue me. Because I crave you when I can't have you." She held her ground as he pressed the length of his body against hers.

"You can have me any time you want," she whispered.

"I mean when I can't be here, in the city." He let go of her hands and cupped her satin-covered backside. "And I want you to be just mine." When he squeezed her against his erection, she lifted her face and his mouth claimed hers as a wet heat bloomed between them. She moaned as he walked her towards the couch, and they fell on it with hands running, mouths open, and tongues exploring.

"I want you in every way."

"Yes," she exhaled. She kicked off her heels and they clattered to the hardwood floor. Christian ripped her top away exposing bare, swollen breasts to the firelight. He yanked at her pants.

"Easy. I need something to wear home," she whispered.

"I'll buy you new ones." His voice was gruff with need and she laughed softly as he tore the slacks to pieces until she lay naked under him. In frantic, hungry movements they both undressed him. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she moaned as her body arched against him. Grabbing her hip, he ground himself against her with a groan and switched to the other breast. Her hands slipped down his back as she panted and his tongue trailed along the line of muscle under the skin of her stomach. He pushed her knees up and she yelped as he found her, worked her, and her breath hitched as his fingers joined.

"Stop. Wait." She tried to wiggle away, but he dragged her hips back to him. She tugged his hair with both hands as he brought her and she cried out his name, shaking, trembling, laughing. Sliding up her body, he kissed her stomach, her breasts, her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, her mouth. She wrapped her legs around him as he shoved deep and they both moaned. He felt so ridiculously right, fit perfectly, like he was meant to be hers. Such thoughts were perilous, she knew, because no one was ever meant for only one person, but he held her in sway, like no man ever could or had.

"Heather." He breathed her name into her neck and unable to speak, she nodded, knowing what he wanted. She didn't normally allow it on her neck, because she didn't like the marks to show. But now she wanted it very much to show—to the whole world.

He didn't bite right away. Instead, he maintained a maddening pace, bringing her closer with each thrust, each curl of his hips. Her orgasm built like a warm, thick liquid, the pressure building and building until it spilled over. And he bit at just the right moment, like he knew what her body was about to do.

"Christian." She sighed his name as he drank her down and her climax brought his.

"Heather, yes." He growled into her neck as they shuddered together. When they lay spasming in little quakes, her ankles hooked behind his back, his body still inside hers, she listened to him catch his breath. Her heart pounded as he licked her neck and apprehension sparked in her belly at her sudden realization. She liked him way too much.

" _It never ends well that way, puddin'."_

"That was perfect," he whispered in her ear.

"Yes it was," she purred, but her blood pounded in her ears.

He lifted his head and pushed up on his arms. "What's wrong?" She thought she would cry at the way he looked at her, like he might actually care.

"Nothing. Why?" Willing her crazy heart to calm down, she brushed the sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

"You're lying." He kissed her nose. She loosened her grip, letting her feet slide down his ass. Should she bluff?

"How can you tell?" She tried to push up, but the weight of his body held her in place.

"Your pulse, the way your skin tightens, the curve of your mouth. I smell anxiety, adrenalin, cortisol." He sat up, taking her with him and cradling her in his arms. "Fear. Tell me."

She shoved at his hands and arms, but he wouldn't let go. "Damn it, Christian. Don't push, okay? Please." She went rigid under the soothing strokes of his hands.

He kissed her hair. "I like you, Heather. I'm not going to fuck and run. I'm not going to hurt you."

" _Yeah, right."_

She closed her eyes against her mother's voice. "But you'll lose interest, eventually. They all do."

Squeezing her too tight, he said, "I'm not going to."

"How do you know? What is it you like about me, anyways? My red hair? The way I dance?" She shoved at his chest and he released her, this time. "It's the sword dance, isn't it? It gets you off? You like to see me work it, don't you?"

Her baser nature glinted in her eyes as she slinked off the couch to spin around the room, her red hair fanning out. The air shimmered between her upraised hands until she clutched a talwar sword. Lowering it in front of her rolling torso, she trained wicked eyes on his. A provocative mix of emotions passed over his face: hunger, greed, anger, embarrassment. She held the talwar under her kohl-outlined eyes, swaying her hips to the right, arching the sword in the same direction, then swirled it with both hands in a quick circle in front. Swinging it artfully around in one hand, she turned her back to him. She lowered into a deep backbend, her red hair cascading to the floor as she fixed her gaze on his upside down eyes. The sword balanced on her chest.

He stalked over to her and grabbed the sword, throwing it across the room. It banged into the wall and clanged to the floor. Before she could straighten, he scooped her up in both arms. Carrying her into his bedroom as she yelled and kicked, he plunked her down on the bed.

"You don't think very highly of yourself, do you?" He glowered down at her.

"Whatever do you mean?" She rolled onto her side with cat-like grace, sliding one knee in front of the other, one hand braced on the bed. She rested her head on the other hand, propped up on an elbow. "I think very well of myself." She knew exactly how she looked.

"No you don't, or you wouldn't act like that when someone gets intimate with you." Tugging at the down comforter, he yanked her to him as he settled into the bed.

"I don't act any particular way when I have sex." She bristled as he tucked her into the nook of his arm.

"I didn't say sex. I said when someone gets intimate."

"What's the difference?" She crossed her arms over her chest as best she could in that position, refusing to snuggle. He was quiet. That made her look up at him.

"You don't like to get too close to people." His face was locked down, but his eyes smoldered in a childish way, like she denied something he desperately wanted.

Her mouth hung open as he stared down at her, those blue eyes unnerving. She didn't want him to be disappointed with her. Her chest hurt at the thought. After a long pause, she sighed. "No. No, I don't."

"Why?" His eyes yielded in a way that gave her the courage to say what she was really thinking.

The words rushed out before she could change her mind. "Because it never ends well. I always end up being the one hurt and alone and I don't want to go there ever again."

He squeezed her and she felt the urge to run away. "Then I'll prove to you that I'm not going anywhere and that you can trust me."

Her laugh was scornful. "I make it a point not to trust anyone who actually says they can be trusted."

Christian jerked upright and in vampire quick movements he gathered her into his lap, her back against his chest and bit his wrist. "Drink," he ordered.

She balked, shifting her face away from the bleeding wound. "No."

"Heather." His voice was scary soft. She twisted back to the proffered wrist, wondering what the hell had changed his mood? What had she done?

"Why?" She caught the little sob in her throat before it could escape.

"Because I want you to be mine. Just mine. I don't want anyone else to have you, ever, and I want you to trust me." There was no malice in his tone, only need and hunger and desire.

She blinked back tears. "Why?"

He growled in frustration, crushing her against him. "Does it matter? Do you have any better offers?"

She blinked faster. "My life is okay."

He flipped her onto her back and hovered over her. "You are insufferable. I offer you everything, Heather, a life of ease and comfort and someone to watch over you." His eyes flashed, daring her to defy him. "Me. I offer you myself. You will never be alone. You will never be vulnerable."

Her cheeks flushed as she narrowed her eyes. "What do you want in return?"

"Just you." His eyes flitted away for a second and her chest clenched painfully. "There will be work for you to do, on occasion."

"Why don't you just force me?"

They stared at each other with open eyes and half-way open hearts.

"Because I want you to want it."

She held very still, because that she understood. No one wanted to be with someone who didn't want to be with them, even if the vampire bond changed that. He wanted to know she chose of her own free will. He wasn't even trying to hypnotize her, or whatever vampires did. Oh, she knew he must have done it a dozen times before. She suspected he had done it to calm her or to ease her fears, but he was asking now, not forcing. He could have done a lot of things, but he didn't. Was this what she wanted? Her chest slowly relaxed, her stomach unclenching and she knew the answer. She nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay?" His eyes widened, and then relaxed, filling with a warm light.

"Okay." She ran her fingers along his jaw and he kissed her hard, slipped her to her side and spooned her. She rolled her eyes, even as she snuggled into him. The secure feeling of being held and wanted washed over her in uncomfortable waves. His arm snaked under her and around her neck, and then she heard the crunch of him biting his wrist.

Her head sank back as she took it in her mouth and drank, the cool blood running over her tongue, the taste sweetly metallic. As she swallowed, her body tightened around a growing want and the last coil of anxiety unwound in her solar plexus, little by little, until she forgot what it had felt like.

"You're mine." Christian whispered, his need for her hardening against her backside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christian shivered and then slid out from under the covers, leaving Heather fast asleep in the dark. In the living room the cityscape twinkled. He stared out the window for a long moment, a pale statue with wide eyes. What had he done?

Something tugged in his chest as if a part of him was now lodged inside her and tendons stretched between them. What happened to her, how she felt, and whether she lived or died now mattered. It mattered more than anything else in his life ever had, even his once endless need for revenge. He rubbed an eye and picked up his cell phone, tapping the screen as he lowered himself to the couch.

"Yes?" A voice he both loved and hated answered.

"It's done." He withheld all emotion from his answer, as only the undead can do.

"Good boy. What have you told her?" Modore's response was gleeful.

"Just that I have some work for her." There was an off-kilter laugh over the cell signal, and Christian shifted in his seat. Modore had always been off, but he was getting worse.

"I think we have time to get her up to speed, Modore. No need to rush things."

"There is reason to rush things," Modore hissed. "Each day the Light Walker grows stronger, more aware of her abilities, and more tied to that cur."

A cancerous dread wedged in Christian's throat pulsed and he covered his eyes with a hand, then let it fall to his lap. "I told you this wasn't worth the effort or the casualties. Let her go, Modore. We will be able to accomplish our goals—"

He choked, suddenly unable to breathe. Harsh, strangled sounds gurgled from his throat as he writhed in agony on the white couch, where he and Heather had writhed in pleasure just an hour ago. The cell phone clinked to the floor.

"Christian?" Heather's sleepy voice drifted from the bedroom. He struggled harder to sit up, gasping a deep breath as he fumbled for the phone.

"Have I made my point, my child?" Modore spoke low and slow.

Unable to form the words, Christian nodded. He swallowed and rubbed his neck as he regained his composure and settled himself.

"Good. Get on with it. Find a way to get her into Katie's coven, and I expect you to heel that bitch. I will not be disappointed this time." The line went dead.

"Christian?" Heather stood naked in the bedroom doorway, her pale skin dappled with the city lights. Her light blue eyes clouded and sparkled at the same time.

"Go back to bed, Heather. I'll be there in a minute." Christian's voice was only slightly rough, but she noticed.

"Are you okay?" She padded to him on exquisite, bare feet. _It wasn't possible to have such beautiful feet_ , he thought, but everything about her was extraordinary, delicious, and rare. No matter the cost, to him or to her, he hadn't been able to deny himself. A century, it turned out, was not enough time to leash the darkness that prowled his soul.

"Yes, I'm fine." He dropped the cell on the table, wrapping an arm around her waist as she sat next to him, and kissed her temple. "Everything's fine."

Find out what happens next in Samskaras, Book 2 of the Love and Light Series

Other Works by Melissa Lummis

The Love and Light Series

Samskaras (Book 2)

Samadhi (Book 3) _Coming January 2014_

**The Little Flame Series** _Coming 2014_

#1 Nine30

#2 Electric

#3 StarLand

#4 LimeLight

#5 Haunted

Anthologies

Eternal Summer

A Christmas Yet to Come

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Meet the ladies of Romantic Edge Books: Nine Authors Writer Romance with an Edge

Anthologies

Cupid Painted Blind

Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

Eternal Summer

By Olivia Hardin

Bend-Bite-Shift Trilogy

Witch Way Bends

Bitten Shame

Shifty Business

For Love of Fae Series

Sweet Magic Song

Lynlee Lincoln Series

Trolling for Trouble

Tangled Up In Trouble

Stand Alone Novels

All For Hope

By Liz Schulte's

Guardian Trilogy

Secrets

Choices

Consequences

Easy Bake Coven Series

Easy Bake Coven

Hungry Hungry HooDoo

Pick Up Styx

The Jinn Series

Ember

The Ella Reynolds Series

Dark Corners

Dark Passing

Stand Alone Novels

The Ninth Floor

By C. G. Powell

Spell Checked

Immortal Voyage

The Miss Series

Miss Stake

By Lola James

Spell Bound Series

Bound to Remember

Unbound

Bound to You

Fate Series

Fate's Design

A Villian's Fate Short Story

Defying Fate

By Stephanie Nelson

Gwen Sparks Series

Craved

Deceived

Coveted

The Anna Avery Series

Taming the Wolf

Embracing the Wolf

By Melissa Lummis

Love and Light Series

Enlightened

Samskaras

Samadhi (coming January 2014)

The Little Flame Series

Coming 2014

By Tawdra Kandle

The King Series

Fearless

Breathless

Restless

Endless

Stand Alone Novels

The Posse

Best Served Cold

Note From the Author

I hope you have enjoyed Enlightened, Book 1 of the Love and Light Series. As an independent author, it is a great privilege to bring you my stories, but one of the challenges is not having a traditional publicist and other promotional venues. If you have enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review or comment at Goodreads or the ebook retailer site you purchased this ebook from.

~Melissa Lummis

www.melissalummis.com

Acknowledgments

There are so many people to thank for getting this book off the ground, I don't know where to begin. Actually, yes I do. First, I need to say thank you to my husband. It has been a long hike getting to this point and although it wasn't all sunshine and daydreams, he was always there, pacing, listening, supporting and generally cheering me on. I also need to thank C. G. Powell for taking me under her wing and introducing me to the world of indie authors. If not for you, Christine, I might still be floundering around in shallow writing waters, and I certainly never would have met the wonderful IC. What can I say about the IC? You have been my undying support and I am honored and humbled to know you all. I need to acknowledge my crit partner Olivia Hardin. Wow! You are an amazing lady. And I have to thank my editors Liz Schulte and Kristin Beaird for their eagle eyes and guidance. Thank you so very much for helping me not only turn this book into something publishable, but for helping me to build my writing muscles and for teaching me how to be more flexible. And thank you to all my friends and supporters. There are too many to name. I am truly blessed.

About the Author

Melissa Lummis considers herself a truth seeker, a peaceful warrior, a paranormal and fantasy writer, an avid reader, a thru-hiker GAME '98, a wife, a mother, and a free thinker. She believes the universe conspires to help an adventurer. And if we live our lives as if it is a daring adventure (and it is!), then everything we need will find its way to us.

The author lives in rural Virginia with her husband, two children, an Alaskan Malamute and a myriad of forest creatures. The nature of her mind dictates that she write to stay sane. Otherwise, her fertile imagination takes off on tangents of its own accord, creating scenarios and worlds that confuse the space-time continuum.

Namaste, dear friends.

