“Jordan!”

She thought she heard her name again. A fluttering, and now, a sound of laughter, deep husky laughter, neither male nor female, just. . .

Evil.

Fluttering, laughter, sounds, whispers.

She came to a halt. Shadows seemed to play and dance on the facades before her now. Graceful, a sweep of darkness, circling her. For a moment she stood transfixed, trying to tell herself, somewhere deep in the logic of her mind, that this could not be happening. Shadows were no more than an obstruction of light. The whispers, hissing, fluttering.. . the laughter, were no more than her imagination, night sounds taking on new meanings as she gave way to panic.

But the shadows did seem to take shape. Like dancers on the walls.

She felt a shove suddenly. And she was sure that she distinctly heard the word, “Go!” Instinct moved her again. She ran?in the direction she had been pushed. A cacophony of whispers seemed to rise behind her. A fluttering, breathing, hissing.

She ran and ran.

A shadow rose before her.

She plowed right into it.

She heard fierce muttering in Italian. An old man rose, shaking his head, steadying her as she nearly tripped over him. He said something about “Carnevale” and something nasty about “turistas!” Jordan could barely apologize?in any language. “Piazza San Marco!” she said. “Per favore!” The old man pointed.

She nodded and thanked him. She ran again, then saw that she was on the path that led directly to the left of the Danieli?and that let out on the well-lit area that edged the Canale Santa Maria della Salute.

She burst into the light. There, on the broad walkway before the water, were other people. Not many. A couple ambling beneath the blue moon. A threesome waiting at a vaporetto stop. A restaurateur, sweeping up in front of his cafe.

She stopped running, doubled over, caught her breath. In seconds, in the light, she regained a sense of sanity.

She’d been lost and confused. A bat had gotten into her hair. She’d panicked, and she’d run like an idiot, and hurt herself, but now she was safe.

She rose and felt a sharp pain in her side from the running, and she felt the soreness in her knee.

Damn Jared! He had waited for her, but not long enough for her to catch him! He hadn’t been worried, she told herself. He probably hadn’t realized that she was lost, or for that matter, afraid.

She stretched and looked back. If the old man was still out on the path, she’d give him a wave of thanks.

The old man was not there.

Her breath caught again.

In the moonlight, she saw a wolf. A huge silver wolf, sitting in the center of the path.

Yet even as she watched, the wolf rose to all fours. Strange glittering eyes seemed to stare back at her in the night.

Then the wolf turned and disappeared into the shadows.

CHAPTER 5

Entering the Danieli, Jordan saw that some night owls were still in the lobby bar. The tables in the handsome lobby and bar area were occupied by couples and small groups. At one of the period sofas that flanked a Persian rug, Jordan saw Jared and Cindy. On a coffee table in front of them were empty espresso cups. The two were tête-à-tête, apparently feeling both drowsy and romantic.

Jordan was about to accost Jared, telling him he should have stopped for her, when she gazed at his cup again. Empty. He leaned back in the sofa, his arm around his wife, his mask cast to the floor by the sofa.

“Jordan!” Cindy straightened, then stood. “I was starting to worry about you. We knew you left with the folks from Anna Maria’s, but the party has been over now for quite a while.”

“I didn’t leave with the group from Anna Maria’s,” Jordan told them.

A waiter hovered nearby, smiling pleasantly.

“Last call, Jordan, if you want anything. They do have decaf espresso.”

“Tea, thank you, something like an English Breakfast,” Jordan said, sitting across from Cindy and Jared in a richly upholstered armchair.

Cindy sat again, staring at her. Jared leaned forward frowning.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left. I thought you’d taken your mask and gone. As a matter of fact, I was angry with you for not telling us you were leaving.”

“You left together?” Jordan asked.

“Of course,” Cindy said.

“You’ve been back a while?”

“At least half an hour,” Cindy told her.

“Were you all right?” Jared asked. He sounded anxious.

“I’m fine.”

“But you weren’t with the people from the art shop?” Cindy asked.

Jordan shook her head, watching them. “They thought I left with you; you thought I left with them.”

“But where were you? You weren’t in the tent when we left,” Jared said.

“I ran into two of the cops.”

Jared’s frown deepened. Before he could say anything, Jordan added, “Don’t worry. I made no accusations against anyone. I was charming and totally sane. We just talked about the artist’s ball?and the beauty of Venice. And, of course, the heat of vinyl.”

“You are smashing,” Cindy said, smiling. Jordan smiled back at her. Cindy was a wonderful friend.

Sympathetic when she needed a defender and pleased with her every little accomplishment.

“Thanks.”

“Smashing, but too provocative,” Jared said, sounding distracted, a frown still furrowing his forehead.

“You came alone? I mean, that’s a definitely red costume, and I’m sure the streets were filled with wolves tonight.”

“As a matter of fact, I thought I saw a wolf along the way.”

“I didn’t see any wolf costumes tonight, did you Jared?” Cindy asked.

Jordan decided not to mention the fact that she thought she had seen a real wolf.

“No wolves,” he agreed. “Believe it or not, I did see a giant ape. Jordan, I’m sorry. We’d have never left you. As Cindy said, I was kind of put out, worried, and angry?thinking you’d just walked off without telling us.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

“But you made it home all right,” Cindy said.

She lifted her hands. “I’m here.” She smiled a thank you to the waiter as he brought her tea. Leaning forward to pour the tea, she told Jared, “As a matter of fact, I was ready to come in here and yell at you.

I think it took me so long to get back because I was following the wrong dottore.”

“What?” he asked.

“When I left, I did confuse the streets. Then I saw a dottore ahead. I thought it was you, and that you just weren’t waiting for me.”

“We’ve been right here?it couldn’t have been Jared,” Cindy said. “Jordan, the dottore costume is one of the most common in the city. I’m so sorry ... I hope you weren’t frightened.”

“Oh, not at all,” Jordan lied blithely.

A fire leaped and crackled in the fireplace. Low conversation filled the lobby. A concierge remained behind the long desk before the front door, and several receptionists were still on duty behind the perfectly polished check-in desk. The feeling of ... normalcy was so prevalent in the lobby?not just normalcy, but comfort and warmth?that it was easy to believe that she was letting her own mind run riot.

Hadn’t she seen Steven’s face on a dummy today?

“So you had a good time?” Cindy asked.

“Yes, I did. The people from the Arte della Anna Maria shop are wonderful.”

“They are,” Cindy agreed.

Both Jared and Cindy kept staring at her; Jared a little skeptically, as if he doubted that she was really relaxed and comfortable.

“We should never have left,” he murmured.

“Hey, you’re here, I’m here. And you should go up to bed,” Jordan said. She indicated their empty demitasse cups. “Go on up to bed.”

“We’ll wait for you,” Jared said.

She shook her head firmly. “I’m fine. I’ll finish my tea and come up. I have my own room, I’m over twenty-one, I’ve caroused in the streets alone in the dark, and I can surely make my way up the stairs to my room.”

“You don’t need to drink your tea alone?” Cindy began.

“Go!” Jordan said firmly. “I’d like to wind down a little by myself.” Cindy rose; Jared joined her more slowly.

“Go!” Jordan repeated.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Jared said.

She gave him a vast sigh of impatience. “Fine. I had a great time. I’m just going to drink my tea and go to bed.”

Cindy gave her a kiss on the cheek and tugged on Jared’s hand. He followed along behind her, still watching Jordan as he headed for the stairs behind the receptionist’s desk.

When they were gone, Jordan leaned back in her chair. She was glad they had chosen seats near the hearth; despite the heat she had felt in her vinyl earlier, the excursion home had given her a chill. Now the natural warmth of the fire seemed to enwrap her, and it was comforting.

The waiter came by to clear away the cups. He cast Jordan a smile.

She smiled back, then leaned forward. “Scusi ... are there any wolves in Venice?” she asked.

“Wolves?”

She searched her mind for the word in Italian. “Lupo?”

“Lupo, wolf, si, I understand, signorina.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Big dogs, yes, people keep big dogs, even in little apartments. But wolves ...” He shrugged. “No, signorina, no wolves. Why?”

“I thought I saw a wolf in the street.”

He gave her a sage nod. “There are many wolves at Carnevale, signorina?out to howl when they can hide behind a mask, yes?”

She grinned, shaking her head. “Not the human kind. A real wolf.”

“A big dog, signorina.”

“Yes, probably.”

“People down the calle .. . they have two huskies. And down by the fish restaurant, maybe a quarter of a mile over the bridge, there is a man who owns a malamute. A big, big dog that looks much like a wolf.”