FREY IS WAITING FOR US ON THE PORCH WHEN WE arrive back.

"Where's John-John?" Kayani asks the minute we've jumped out of the truck.

"Inside. He's already asleep. The poor kid is dead tired." He looks from Kayani's face to mine and back again. "What's going on?"

There's so much Frey doesn't know about our afternoon excursion that it takes both of us several minutes to bring him up to date. His reaction is predictable.

He directs his anger first at Kayani and me. "You two went off without letting me know what you were doing. What if you'd gotten caught? What if George had decided to shoot you again with a bone charm? Or you, Kayani? John-John would be next and I would have known nothing about it."

Kayani accepts Frey's wrath. "You are right. It was stupid not to let you now where we were going. But at the time, we thought we were hunting smugglers, not a yee naaldlooshii. It wasn't until Anna found the proof in George's shed that we realized John-John was in trouble."

"Did you destroy the charm?"

"Of course, my friend."

"Then it is time I pay George a visit."

Kayani nods in understanding. "It was my first reaction, too. But Anna reminded me we don't yet have proof that he is behind the counterfeiters. We must be sure one way or another before we act. There is a greater good to consider."

"Not to me there isn't." Frey is on his feet, ready to sweep any obstacle out of his path. "I won't give him an opportunity to harm my son."

"I love John-John, too," Kayani says quietly. "I have known him since he was a baby. I will die before I let harm befall him. We must come up with a way to protect John-John while pursuing the truth of the other matter."

"And how do you propose to do that? Do you have a plan?"

"Maybe," Kayani replies. "We will take turns tailing George round the clock. At least one of us will always be here with John-John. We will make sure no one, especially George, gets close to him."

"And how do we tail him when he's out on one of his tours?" Frey's voice is tight with frustration. "There's no way to follow him in a car. He'd spot that in a minute."

"I'll take care of that," Kayani says. "On horseback. I know the land as well as George. I know where he takes the tourists. If he makes any unplanned spots, speaks with anyone not part of a group, I will see it. He will not spot me, I can promise you that."

Frey is not ready to let go of his rage toward George. "I will give you twenty-four hours," he says. "Not a minute more. If you find nothing you can use to stop the counterfeiters in twenty-four hours, I will go after George on my own. I will make him talk."

I don't know if Sarah told Kayani that Frey was a shape-shifter, or if he is aware that Frey's other form is panther. The look that passes between the two men, however, makes me suspect that Kayani knows what Frey is capable of.

Kayani checks his watch. "George will be returning home from the lodge. Daniel, you will watch the house tonight. I will stay here with Anna. If you see anything suspicious, call on the cell."

"No," I interrupt. "I should take the night watch. Frey should stay here with John-John. You both should."

repliesni looks ready to argue but Frey is looking at me.

In the same way Kayani knows what Frey can do, Frey knows what I'm capable of. He knows I'll do whatever's necessary to keep George from coming anywhere near John-John. More important, he wants to stay close to his son. "I agree with Anna," he says. "She should take the night watch."

Kayani's expression reflects skepticism and surprise. "Anna, do you even remember how to find George's place?"

"I do. I have become more adept at noting geographical points. His home is close to a mesa. I'm sure I can find it again."

"Hunt's Mesa," Kayani says. "Let me show you on a map."

He trots out to his car and returns with a map. This is not the typical tourist map, though, it's a map that marks all residences in the tribal park. There are well over a hundred, spaced far apart with no paved roads connecting them.

"I had no idea there were so many homes in the valley."

Frey presses close to look. "Where is George's?"

Kayani traces the route from Sarah's to George's. He is-was-actually her closest neighbor.

Frey's anger resurfaces. "He had John-John the night of the accident. He said he was taking him to Sarah. I never thought to ask when he showed up at the hogan why John-John was at his house. I was too relieved that he hadn't been in the truck."

Self-recrimination rings through his voice.

"Doesn't matter, Frey. John-John is safe. We'll keep him that way." I hold out my hand. "Do you have the keys to the Jeep?"

He digs into a pocket of his jeans and withdraws the keys. Places them in the palm of my hand.

"I'd better get going. We've missed trailing him after he dropped off his afternoon group. Let's hope he heads straight home and doesn't make a stop anywhere else. I'd hate to think we missed our only opportunity to catch him with those men again."

Kayani refolds the map. "I'll head for the lodge, just in case. If he's already left, I'll call you. It should take him forty minutes or so to get home. I'll retrace his route, then come back here."

Frey walks with us to the porch steps. "Keep a sharp eye out, Anna. George can take animal shape. You saw the pelts. Any of those are formidable opponents."

His voice is calm, but his eyes telegraph a more urgent message.

Bear. Coyote. Wolf.

I nod my understanding. But I have vampire inside.

There is no more formidable opponent.

IT'S MIDNIGHT AND I AM SO BORED, MY TEETH GRIND with impatience. George arrived home a little after six. From the time, Kayani confirmed that he wouldn't have had time to stop anywhere and, backtracking his route just to be sure, came across no one unfamiliar on the way. He returned to join Frey.

The house is quiet, but not dark. Lights shine in the living room and kitchen. Shadowy figures pass in front of drapes pulled across front windows. Odd since there are no neighbors to see inside.

Finally, the lights are extinguished and I settle back the seat. I expect George and his wife are retiring for the night.

The sound of the front door jerks me back to attention. George and his wife stand quietly on the porch. They glance around furtively, as if assuring themselves that they are alone.

Then they walk quickly down the steps, sticking to the shadows, and head for the back.

I follow. Vampire is in her element at night. I am a shadow among shadows in the light of a crescent moon.

I'm at the back of the shed just as they approach the front. They are speaking in Navajo. The wife must have said something about thinking she saw the door open this afternoon because George is examining the lock.

He finds nothing because there is nothing to find. His response to her is condescending and sharp in tone.

That changes when they have been inside for only a moment. They had to have noticed the missing charm. Both voices escalate in anger and accusation. Questions are thrown back and forth, reproachful replies flung like stones. I'd give anything this minute to understand Navajo.

It grows quiet.

George leaves, comes back with a red plastic can. A gas can. The sharp smell of gasoline being splashed on surfaces wrinkles my nose.

He and his wife back out of the shed; he's still dribbling gas in his path. Then the scratch of a match, a flare of light, and the shed goes up in a great whoosh and burst that turns night into day.

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