It was late morning, and Max had fallen asleep in her chair when the creaking of the bedroom door made her jerk herself awake. She twisted toward the door, half expecting to have a fight on her hands. But it was neither a dark vampire nor the scarred Frank Stiles who walked quietly into the bedroom. It was Lou, and he was with a big, sandy-haired man who stared at Max as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Maxie, this is David Sumner," Lou said. He couldn't quite manage a whisper, but his voice came out softly all the same.

Nodding, Max got to her feet, and only then did she realize she was still holding Morgan's hand. She gently let it go, placing it on the bed and giving her newfound sister one last lingering look before she turned back to the men. "Let's talk downstairs, can we? She's sleeping so soundly, I hate to wake her."

Lou nodded and started to leave, but Sumner didn't. He moved closer, leaned over Morgan and looked at her, his eyes troubled. He touched her very gently, just laid his hand lightly on her face. She sighed deeply, but other than that didn't respond at all.

Lowering his head, the man nodded, turned and walked out of the bedroom. Max followed, closing the bedroom door behind her, and it was a good thing, because Sumner began asking questions almost immediately.

"What happened to her? Why does she look so pale? My God, her skin is as chilled as if she's been on ice overnight. And-"

"One question at a time, Mr. Sumner," Max cut in, holding a stop-sign palm toward him and pressing her other hand to her head. "I haven't even had my morning infusion of caffeine yet, and I didn't exactly get a lot of sleep last night."

Sumner offered an apologetic nod. "God. I can't get over the resemblance. Officer Malone-"

"Lou, it's Lou."

"-told me about you as soon as I got here, but I just-I can't get over it."

Max understood the reaction only too well. "I've been looking at Morgan all night, and I still can't get over it, either," she said. "I didn't know I had a sister at all, much less a twin."

"Neither did I," Sumner admitted.

They reached the kitchen, where Max smelled coffee brewing and made a beeline for it. She didn't see Lydia anywhere and wondered where she'd gone. The two men sat at the table, and she poured herself a coffee and joined them. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm still unclear on your relationship with Morgan, uh, David, is it?"

"Yes, David. I'm... well, an honorary uncle. I've known Morgan ever since she was a year old. If they'd been religious types, I suppose I would have been named Morgan's godfather, but that was never formalized. When they died... well, I was all she had."

"You also produced her vampire films," Lou observed, picking up a cooling, half-empty cup of coffee and sipping its contents.

"Yeah, well. I'll tell you, I didn't expect them to be as good as they were. When I saw that first script, I swear to God, I told her she should shop it around. Get a bidding war going among the real heavy hitters, you know? But she wouldn't do it. She wanted me to make her first film. So I cut her in for half the profits and did the best I could with it. She deserved more. But as it turned out, the films grabbed a following right out of the gate, and the momentum built to the success of this third one."

Lou nodded slowly. "So how was she, the last time you saw her?"

"Not like this." David glanced at the watch he wore. "I can't reach her doctor before ten. I'll call him then."

"Then she has been ill?" Lou asked.

David drew a deep breath. "Listen, Morgan's star is just starting to rise. I don't want this getting out."

"We're not looking for a story to sell to the scandal sheets, David," Max told him. "If we were, then the missing twin angle would be plenty. There's something not right here, and I-we only want to help her."

Lowering his head, David said, "I'm afraid there's not a lot that can be done for her. She, um... she has a rare condition. An antigen in her bloodstream that has medical science baffled. No one seems to know why, but individuals who have this antigen in common begin to weaken and fade in their mid to late twenties and rarely live beyond their early thirties."

"What... what are you saying?" Max whispered, meeting his eyes. "That she's... "

"I'm sorry. I know this must come as a shock." David sighed, lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's known about this since she was a teenager," he went on without looking up. "Hell, it's what made her so driven, and why she was so determined to get a screenplay produced right away, at such a young age. She knew she didn't have a lot of time."

Max sat there staring at him. Her eyes were burning. Her mind spinning. "That's... that's wrong, that's not-that can't be true."

"Max," Lou began.

"That's not it, Lou!" She shot a look at David Sumner. "You're telling me she's dying?'"

"We didn't expect it to get this much worse this soon, but-"

"Oh, God," Lou muttered.

Max just sat there, getting angrier and angrier. Finally she pounded a fist on the table. "This doesn't make any sense whatsoever. Look, I don't know what else might be wrong with her, but the reason she's in the state she is right now is because she was attacked by a vampire last night."

David Sumner was silent, just looking at her, then Lou, then her again. "That's not very funny."

"I saw the marks on her throat. I looked while I was sitting up with her and she was asleep, and when she woke up I called her on it, and she admitted it to me." She was speaking too rapidly now, and she could see that she was scaring the shit out of Sumner. "Dante is real. She admitted it! Although she insists he's no threat to her."

Sumner got slowly to his feet, looking nervous.

"Maybe now that I'm here you two should move along. I'm really grateful for your help but-"

"Now he thinks we're crackpots, Maxie. Sheesh, you ever hear of being subtle?"

She shot Lou a look. "You brought the CD, didn't you?"

"I brought it."

"Well, show him. Just fucking show him."

Nodding, Lou got up as if his limbs ached. They probably did, from that chase the night before. He glanced at David Sumner. "Give me a half hour of your time, Sumner. If you still think we're a pair of lunatics when I finish, we'll leave. No fuss, no muss. Okay?"

Sumner licked his lips, looking from one of them to the other. "I... suppose so."

"Good. Is there a computer around this place?"

"In the study, but Morgan keeps it locked. She hates anyone going in there." The words made Maxine's antennae quiver. "I have a laptop in the car," the big man added.

"Then let's go get it." Lou glanced back at Max. "You better go take a nap, huh? You didn't sleep all night. The bed in your room was still made up this morning."

She nodded, her eyes heavy. "Maybe I'll do that," she said. "Where's Lydia, anyway?"

"Went out first thing. Into town for supplies, she said. She'll be back."

Max frowned and thought about going for a walk around the grounds-maybe the fresh air would wake her up. But her eyelids and muscles disagreed with that plan, so she sucked down her coffee as if it were lifeblood and refilled her cup again. She had no intention of taking a nap.

Morgan was weak, groggy, when she woke. And there was an empty, hollow feeling emanating, echoing, from somewhere deep in her center. A yearning... for Dante. It was beyond simple desire. It was beyond human love. It was an ache, a desperate, endless need. The soul-deep hunger of a woman on the brink of death by starvation.

Clenching her teeth against the emptiness, she got up, took note of the daylight still flooding in through the thin curtains on the French doors and silently cursed it. Even if Dante had survived-God, please!-he wouldn't be able to come to her. Not now. Not in daylight.

She dragged herself tiredly into the bathroom, wanting a fast shower, knowing she lacked the energy to take one. There was no hopping in, scrubbing down, rinsing off and hopping out. No, but she did manage to crank on the taps and peel off her clothes. She stood under the spray with her hands braced on the shower wall and her head hanging down. She couldn't get through the day like this. Jesus, she needed...

She knew what she needed. She needed Dante. She needed him inside her, his fire burning life through her veins. He had taken too much from her. Not to hurt her, God, she knew that. He was going to do what she asked. Make her what he was. Drain her and then refill her with his own life. Stiles's interruption had cost her dearly.

Something, some sense that was very much like hearing a sharp noise but not quite, made her lift her head and listen. Was someone else in the house?

God, those strangers from last night? Were they still here?

She had to admit to a softness toward the woman who claimed to be her sister. But anyone who meant Dante harm was her enemy. She would protect him, no matter what. No matter who she had to fight.

Reaching for a towel, she stepped out of the shower, feeling cleaner but no stronger, and only a little more awake. She paused to look into the full-length mirror at her body, dropping the towel to the floor and wondering how Dante could want her as she was. Skinny. Weak. Pale. Lifting her chin, she looked at the place on her throat where he had pierced her. Her body tingled all over at the memory of the sensations that had rushed through her then. The ultimate possession. She had been completely his-and relishing it.

Then she narrowed her eyes, her fingers dancing over the skin of her neck. There were no marks. No punctures, as she knew there had been the night before. Moving closer, she looked again, frowning. Very faint marks, barely pink against the white of her skin, betrayed the place where his incisors had been embedded in her flesh. The holes and the bruising around them were gone. The marks that remained... even they seemed to be fading before her eyes.

"It was real," she whispered. "I know it was."

She pulled on a robe, a different one, scarlet satin, hoping to draw energy from the color. She brushed her hair, although the act was exhausting, and finally she crept down the stairs to face the intruders. She had to convince them that she was all right and get rid of them. Otherwise Dante would never be able to come to her again.

At the bottom of the wide curving staircase, Morgan paused, staring across the foyer to the open doors of her haven. Her study. The place she let no one invade. She thought of the floorboards beneath the rug, the hidden space below, where, for all she knew, Dante might have taken refuge last night Her heart stuttered, and anger pushed it into a faster pace than before. She surged across the foyer, into the study.

Maxine stood there, looking beautiful and alive and healthy. She was staring at the drawings of Dante that lined the walls, not touching anything, not searching, just staring.

"These doors are kept locked for a reason," Morgan said, her voice low, her anger in check.

Max jerked in surprise, her eyes wide as they met Morgan's. "You're right, I'm sorry, I just... couldn't help myself." She came forward, a hand going to Morgan's arm. "You shouldn't be up. You're still so weak."

"I'm fine." She pulled her arm away, willed herself to stay angry, not to soften again toward the woman. "This is my private study," she said. "I don't let anyone in here."

"So I was told. That's why I had to come in." She shrugged. "Look, I know I invaded your privacy. I thought maybe I'd find something in here that might help me save your life."

Morgan couldn't hold Max's eyes then, because the sincerity she saw in them touched her, though she didn't want it to. "Nothing can do that. There's nothing."

"You have to have more time," Max said. "You have to, Morgan. I just found you."

Morgan turned her back and denied the bolt of pain those words sent through her. "I spent a lot of time wanting that to be true. It only leads to disappointment, Maxine. I don't want to want it again. I've accepted the facts." And she had, she thought. But not the facts as her sister knew them. Morgan knew that living a normal life was no longer an option. She had thought accepting death was her only choice, but now she had another option. A new life of endless night. It might be possible. If she could only last long enough to make it happen.

Max was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was thick. "These drawings-they're stunning."

Morgan turned, managed to face her again now that Max was attempting a lighter subject. "Thank you. They're just what my imagination tells me my character looks like."

Max blinked. "Come on, Morgan, we're past that. You admitted last night that he was real. Don't you remember? When I saw the marks?"

Pasting an innocent expression on her face, Morgan lifted her chin, let her hair fall back and parted the collar of her robe. "What marks?"

Max frowned, moving closer and inspecting her neck. "But... but they were there. You covered them up." She reached out and dragged a forefinger across the place where the marks had been, but when she looked, Morgan knew, she saw no traces of makeup. "I don't understand."

"You don't need to."

"Morgan, if this vampire is... is feeding on you, then whatever time you have left will be even less, don't you see that? David said the last time he saw you, you were-"

"David?" Morgan flinched. "David?"

"Don't you remember? I told you last night he was coming."

Morgan frowned, trying to sort out the confused muddle of her mind.

"He's here," Max said. "In that small parlor off the living room with Lou."

Morgan started out of the study, then turned to take Maxine's hand and tug her along. "How did you get into the study?" she asked.

Sheepishly, Max tugged a key from her jeans pocket. "It was on your nightstand. A lucky guess."

Taking the key, Morgan turned to close and lock the study doors. Clutching the key in her palm, she moved slowly across the parquet to the small parlor, wondering what was going on between Lou, the policeman, and her beloved David. When she walked in, the two men were huddled over David's familiar laptop, and they both looked up.

"David," she said, forcing a warm smile.

"Oh, baby." He surged to his feet and wrapped her in a warm bear hug. "Honey, how are you? You looked so bad when I arrived that I-"

"David, I need to talk to you. Alone." She turned to Maxine. "Please."

"Sure. We're not the Gestapo, Morgan. We only want what's best for you."

Lou got to his feet and left the room, joining Max in the living room. Morgan closed the door on them and turned to David, a man she knew would do anything for her. Anything. She met his eyes and said, "I want them out."

Max was stunned when a quiet, slightly guilty-looking David Sumner asked them to leave. Morgan had gone straight back to her bedroom, barely sparing her a glance on the way, and then David stood there in the large living room and told them they were going to have to leave.

Lou nodded just slightly. "I understand."

"I don't!" Max scowled at the man. "And you shouldn't, either, David. Not if you care about her. My God, I'm her sister. The sister she didn't even know she had. Her twin, for God's sake!"

"I know. I'm sorry, Maxine, it's just-it's what she wants."

"Do you really think that was her talking to you in there? It wasn't," Max insisted. "It was him. That vampire. He's got her under some kind of-"

"Max, come on." Lou cut her off gently. "I'm on your side, and even to me that sounds over the top."

"You think so?"

David touched her shoulder, so she switched from glaring at Lou to glaring at him. "I have to admit," David said, "the evidence you two have is... well, it's compelling. I'm not saying I believe it, but I can see where you might. But Morgan is extremely agitated and totally unlike herself."

"Gee, I wonder why," Max muttered.

"I just think, given her condition, it would be better if we humored her in this. At least until we can get to the bottom of what's going on here."

Max stopped frowning and slowly lifted her brows. "It sounds like you don't really want us to leave."

"Frankly, I don't." He pushed a hand through his hair and paced away from them before turning back. "I know phonies when I see them, and you people are the real deal. I know that. It's just that she's so damn sick, and so out of it right now. I don't know if I can handle whatever is happening to her on my own."

"And yet you're throwing us out."

"Out of the house, yes. But I'd like you to stay in town for a couple of days. Can you do that?" He held up a hand when Max would have replied. "I'll pay whatever you want for your time. And I'll put you up in town. There are some accommodations that are really quite pleasant."

Max felt a hint of relief. "I'll take you up on the room. But not on the-"

"She'll take you up on all of it," Lou cut in.

"She's my sister," Max said.

"She's rich. You're getting by, I'm retiring, and Lydia's scraping." Then he frowned. "Where the hell is Lydia, anyway?"

"She hasn't come back yet. We'll have to find her before we leave," Max said, a bint of worry gnawing at her belly. Then she turned her attention back to David. "You're going to have to watch her closely. Especially at night. We could come over, you know. Stake the place out, keep our distance."

Drawing a breath, David cast a nervous glance toward the stairs. "It seems wrong, spying on her. And yet... I'm worried." Sighing, he said, "I don't want to betray her. I'll watch her closely. Maybe even get her doctor to prescribe something when she sees him this afternoon. A sedative, something to help her sleep through the night."

Max wanted to argue. Lou stopped her. "We'll go. Just be sure you call us if you need to. And we can't stay up here indefinitely, either."

Max drew a breath, shaking her head. "I don't like this."

"I don't either, to be honest," David said. "Why don't you go on upstairs and say goodbye, Max?"

"If she wanted to say goodbye to me, she'd have said it down here." She looked from one man to the other, then sighed in exasperation. "I'll try."

David began telling Lou about the hotel where he sometimes stayed while in town, at times when he didn't want to interrupt Morgan at work, as Max headed for the curving staircase and started up it. It occurred to her that Morgan had everything. She was stunningly beautiful. Odd that the same face could look so different on two people. On Max, it was average. Passably pretty, no more. Morgan had reached the pinnacle of success in her career. Max still wasn't sure what her career was, although she thought the P.I. thing was her calling. Of course, she'd thought the same about Web design and Internet investigations. Both had gone stale for her. Morgan was wildly wealthy and had a dream house she could obviously afford to decorate exactly as she liked. Max was living in her mother's house and paying not a dime for the privilege. Morgan had a Mercedes sitting in the driveway, though it looked as if it rarely escaped from beneath its custom car cover. Max drove a VW Bug. An original VW Bug. Forest green. Got almost forty miles to the gallon. When it ran.

And yet Morgan was ill. And because of that, the rest of her wealth seemed like nothing at all.

Max tapped on the bedroom door only once. "Morgan, it's me. I'm coming in." She gave her a beat or two, then opened the door. Morgan was sitting in a chair near the French doors, staring out them.

Max walked across the room and stood beside her. "It's a beautiful view from here." And it was, a wide strip of verdant green grass, then a deep, midnight velvet band of sea, all dotted with whitecaps right now, and finally a robin's-egg blue sky with puffs of cloud floating past.

Morgan didn't speak.

Max said, "I'm leaving, Morgan. David said you wanted us out, so we're going. I only came up here to say goodbye."

Nothing. She didn't even look up at her.

"I guess you really don't give a shit, though, do you?" Max sighed, turned on her heel, headed for the door. "I don't know why I bothered trying."

"I'm sorry, Maxine."

She stopped halfway to the door. "Are you?" When Morgan said no more, Max turned slowly. "Why are you throwing us out, Morgan?"

Morgan met Max's eyes only fleetingly, touching, then dancing away before darting back again. She couldn't hold her gaze steadily. "Who raised you?" she asked at length.

Blinking, Max said, "John and Ellen Stuart. The most wonderful middle-class suburban couple in the world."

Morgan nodded very slowly. "And what was it like, growing up with them?"

"It was wonderful. I mean, it was a family. They loved me. The only bad time I can remember is when my dad died. That was the year I started college. It was his heart."

"And they were... involved? In your life?"

"Mom was on every committee at school, chaperoned field trips and sometimes school dances. Dad never missed a ball game or a school play." She almost smiled. "Yeah, they were involved. I always knew I was adopted. It was a non-issue. We loved each other."

"I loved my parents, too," Morgan said very slowly, choosing her words carefully and as if it were an effort. "But I'm still not sure why they adopted me. They didn't have time for me. It was almost as if I were an accessory they purchased to go with their image. I had nannies and tutors and instructors and a driver. And I had David. But my parents were uninvolved. Took trips without me. Tried to make up for it by showering me in money, expensive gifts, cars, clothes. I had my own credit card before I was fourteen."

"I'm sorry you had it so rough," Max said.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"Surprisingly, no. I meant it. I feel sorry for you."

"I don't want your sympathy. I'm just trying to explain to you why it is that the word 'family' doesn't have the same connotations for me that it does for you."

"Maybe not. I would think someone who's never had a real family would need one even more. But I guess I'm wrong."

"The timing is bad," Morgan said. "I'm dying. There's really no point in us... starting anything now."

"Now is the only time we may have."

Closing her eyes, Morgan lowered her head.

"Maybe...I have some things I need to work through. And I need to work through them alone."

"Well, you better work fast, Morgan, because if you think I'm going to stay away, you're wrong. I'll leave. For now. But I'm not going far, and I will be back. And I'll keep coming back, no matter how many times you try to throw me out. Understand?"

Morgan's head came up slowly, a frown between her brows. "No."

"No? You've never had anyone stick by you like that before, have you?"

"Only David. And he only did because he felt sorry for me. I didn't have anyone else."

"Maybe he stuck by you because he honestly gives a damn," Max said. "Kinda like me." She looked at her sister for a long moment; then, with a sigh, she turned and left the room.

Lydia watched her two companions drive away. The troubled Morgan was still sitting in her bedroom window, staring pensively out at the sea. David Sumner emerged from the house onto the patio in back, took a seat on a lawn chair and lit up a cigarette.

Squaring her shoulders, Lydia turned from her vantage point near the shore and began the long walk across the rear lawn toward where Sumner was sitting.

He looked up, spotted her coming, gave a welcoming wave as he got to his feet.

"You must be Lydia," he called.

She nodded, kept walking.

"I'm David."

"I know."

"Maxine and Lou have gone to a hotel in town." he said, a little less loudly now, as she drew closer. "I promised I would bring you along if you returned."

She nodded, kept walking.

"They thought you had gone into the village. I think they were hoping to run into you and... "

He let his voice trail off as she got still closer, until finally she stopped, a couple of feet between them. His eyes narrowed, brows drawing together.

"Hello, David. It's been a long time."

"My God. Oh my God."

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