Marisa woke in midafternoon. Accustomed as she was to spending the silent predawn hours awake with Grigori, she had not been able to sleep last night when he sent her up to bed. Only with dawn had her eyelids grown heavy, and when sleep finally came, her dreams had been filled with shadowy images of Grigori chasing her, his eyes glowing red, his fangs dripping blood. Khira had been mixed in there, too, and Edward. Once, she had awakened, or thought she had awakened, to find Grigori staring down at her.

He had not come to bed at the sun's rising, leaving her to wonder where he was now that the sun was up.

Feeling bleary-eyed and not the least bit rested, she showered, then pulled on a pair of old jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of tennis shoes and went downstairs. She poured herself a cup of coffee, then stood at the window, wondering where he was. Was he sleeping elsewhere in the house? If not, where would he go?

Carrying her coffee with her, she wandered through the house looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Returning to the kitchen, she refilled her cup, then sat down at the table. Where had he gone? What had happened last night to affect him in such a way? Khira... what had the vampire done to him? She had never been afraid of Grigori before, but last night... She shivered with the memory.

Gulping the last of the coffee, she grabbed a pair of gardening gloves and left the house. She needed to be outside, in the sunshine. She drew on the gloves, determined to pull the weeds that grew alongside the driveway. She'd never gotten around to calling a gardener. Now she was glad. She needed to be busy, needed something to occupy her mind.

It was a beautiful day, clear and sunny. How long since Grigori had seen the daylight? Did he remember what it was like? The touch of the sun? The glory of a sunrise?

She thrust the thought from her mind. Gazing around the yard, she imagined how the grounds would look once they were landscaped. She would have to decide what kinds of flowers and trees she wanted, and where she wanted them. Maybe, instead of hiring someone, she'd just do the job herself. Heaven knew she had plenty of free time.

She paused on the thought. Unless Khira drove them away from here. That dark thought cast a pall on the brightness of the day. She would not think of that now, would not let Khira ruin what was a lovely day. She wandered through the yard, pausing now and then to imagine this plant or that in a particular setting. She could buy some sod to replace the weedy grass, maybe put a wrought-iron bench under the big old oak tree on the east side of the house, plant some flower beds on either side of the porch and under the front windows.

It might be fun to do it herself. Maybe some night-blooming jasmine... She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. What was she thinking? That was Khira's scent. Honeysuckle would do just as well.

She stood in the sun, gazing around the yard. Where was he? Last night was the first night he had not shared their bed. She had missed falling asleep in his arms, missed waking with him beside her. Damn it, where was he?

She checked her watch. Almost four. Hours yet until he would rise from wherever he had gone. Where had he gone? Khira... the vampire's name slid through her mind like oily, black smoke. Surely he hadn't gone to stay with Khira. Still, they had once been lovers...

She shook the thought from her mind, only to have it rise again. Khira had made him what he was. There was a bond between the two of them that could not be broken - a bond she would never be able to break, one she would never be able to share.

Until you become a vampire.

She pushed the thought from her mind. She would not think of that now.

With a sigh, she decided she would start weeding near the street and work her way back up the driveway. When she reached the house, she would reward herself with a root-beer float.

When she reached the front gate, she was surprised to find it open. Grigori always locked it. She was about to close it when a sudden shiver ran down her spine. Turning, she gasped as she came face to face with a man she had never seen before.

"Excuse me!" she exclaimed. "You gave me quite a start."

He stared at her through blank gray eyes. "You will come with me," he said woodenly.

Revenant.

She recognized him for what he was instantly. She took a step backward, chilled by the empty look in his eyes. Whoever the man had been, he was forever lost now, his mind no longer his own. Soulless, mindless, a creature made by a vampire, yet not a vampire. Alexi Kristov had turned Grigori's first wife, Antoinette, into such a creature. When Ramsey and Grigori joined forces to hunt Kristov, the ancient vampire had used Antoinette against Grigori. To rescue her from her thrall to Kristov, Grigori had brought her all the way across, given her the Dark Gift. But Antoinette could not endure being a vampire. She had begged Grigori to release her, but it had been Ramsey who had laid her soul to rest.

The creature took a step forward, his arms outstretched. "Come."

She didn't waste time or energy arguing. Instead, she turned and ran for the house.

Grigori! Grigori! Help me!

She screamed the words in her mind, screamed in terror as the revenant tackled her from behind. She cried out again as her knees slammed against the driveway.

She lashed out at him, kicking and scratching, but it was no use. He was oblivious to her blows. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet; then, lifting her into his arms, he carried her down the driveway and out the gate.

She raked her nails down his face, hoping, praying, that someone would come along to save her, but there was no traffic on the street.

She struggled anew as he opened the passenger door to an old pickup truck and thrust her inside. As soon as he closed the door and started for the driver's side, she reached for the door handle. There was none.

Fear rose up in her throat, making it difficult to breathe, to think.

She sat as close to the door as she could get as the revenant slid behind the wheel. He looked at her through soulless eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hypodermic needle.

"No!" Marisa begged. "Please, don't."

She might as well as been talking to a piece of wood.

He held her immobile with one hand, slid the needle home with the other. A moment later, everything went black.

Grigori! Grigori! Help me!

He swam through thick layers of darkness, drawn out of the abyss of the Dark Sleep by the fear and panic in Marisa's voice.

Grigori!

He fought against the blackness of eternity that ensnared him, his need to protect his woman stronger than the darkness that weighed him down.

Struggling, he sat up. He felt the weight of daylight press in on him, knew the sun was still high in the sky by the lethargy that engulfed him. With an effort, he gathered his power around him, sent it outward. Marisa!

She was in danger. The thought slammed into him, his alarm growing when his mind couldn't connect with hers. Panic drove him to his feet, and he left the attic and made his way down the stairs. He ignored the pain that seared his eyes as he left the protective darkness of the attic. Knowing she wasn't in the house, he still searched every room, including the cellar.

Marisa!

He sent his thoughts outward again, shutting out the myriad everyday sounds that assaulted his senses. His mind brushed Ramsey's and Kelly's. They were deeply asleep. He sought Khira, but she blocked his thoughts effortlessly, even in sleep.

He paced the floor in the living room, the need to find Marisa clawing at him. Torn with the need to find her, he opened the door, but the heat of the sun, the glaring light, drove him back inside. He could do nothing until the sun began to set.

Eyes burning, skin crawling from the brush of the sun, he went back upstairs and took shelter in their bedroom. He buried his face in her pillow, his senses filling with her scent.

He whispered her name as the darkness descended on him, drawing him down, down.

Marisa ... I will find you.

He sent the thought outward, hoping she would hear it.

He would find her. He would find those who had taken her, and they would pay the ultimate price for their folly.

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