Roland rose before the others, flinging the mildew-scented hay away from his face, and brushing it vigorously from his clothes. His sleep had been anything but restful.

He told himself of the many possible reasons for that: Tamara's anger at him, and the rift he seemed to have caused between her and Eric; worry over Jamison's physical well-being, compounded by concern for the boy's state of mind; the question of whether the cat would recover, and if not, what effect that would have on her owner.

But none of those things were truly what had kept his mind twisting and turning all day long. In truth, it was his own careless words and the pain they had caused in Rhiannon that haunted him. God, for the power to travel back in time, armed with the knowledge about her he now had. If he'd known that her own father had rejected her with the same decree, "You are my curse,"he'd never have repeated the devastation. True, he needed to remain apart from Rhiannon, but not for his life would he wish to hurt her.

The truth was, he cared for her. A great deal more than he'd ever allowed himself to admit.

"It had been easily denied when she'd been far away, when her visits had been few and oh, so far between.

Denying it had become more difficult with her return, but not impossible.

Her reckless ways and boisterous nature enabled him to mask irritation as dislike and disapproval.

But when he'd seen her on the dew-wet forest floor, reduced to uncontrollable sobbing, clutching the limp cat like a babe in her arms, he'd been unable to deny it any longer. Her pain had sliced into his heart. He'd suddenly wanted nothing more than to take that pain away.

He strolled to the side door, his feet sinking in loose hay. Three birds took flight as he passed beneath the raft-e? s on which they nested, their wings flapping noisily and echoing into the high barn.

A feather drifted down past his face, and he watched it fall.

Outside, onto the drying, browning autumn grass, he moved. The air held a hint of the winter to come, but the sky was without a cloud.

Stiff weeds scraped his shoes as he moved away from the barn, senses attuned for outsiders. He heard only the perfect harmony of the crickets, the occasional whir of a bat swooping and diving overhead, the unearthly whine of the wind whipping across an ancient weather vane high atop the barn.

He didn't want Rhiannon to leave.

The knowledge made itself known to him almost as soon as her decision had left her lips. He would be utterly alone if he knew he'd never see her again. True, she'd never been a steady presence in his life, but he'd always known she was there. He'd always had the absolute certainty that if he summoned her, she would come to him; that when he least expected her, she'd show up unannounced. She'd drag him into a whirlwind, whip it into a hurricane, listen to him tell her how foolish and reckless she was, and then blow away like an errant summer breeze.

He couldn't ask her to stay. Her presence played havoc with his control, made him careless. He would only hurt her, over and over, as he'd already proven.

He closed his eyes, and her face hovered in his mind.

That he could ever harm her deliberately seemed absolutely impossible. For a moment, he considered the possibility that Eric had been right. That his brutish behavior with Rhiannon had been a side effect of the drug.

Then he shook his head roughly. What difference did it make? It couldn't change what he knew about himself, what he truly was. How could he ask Rhiannon to stay, knowing her presence would drive him beyond hope of recovering?

If only she would change her reckless ways, alter her wild nature, calm her impulsive mind. He could help her. She could help him. If he could convince her of it, then perhaps. No. Rhiannon would never change. He was sorely afraid he'd hear of her death one day. And he had no doubt it would be dramatic and horrible.

"Roland?"

He turned at the feminine voice, knowing by its lack of depth and timber that it belonged to Tamara, not Rhian-non.

She came forward, head bowed, not meeting his eyes. She stopped when her toes nearly touched his, slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.

"I'm sorry I said those things to you. I know how much you love Jamey."

He returned her embrace, taking comfort in the physical closeness of another living being.

"It's all right, Tamara. You're on edge. We all are."

She lowered her arms and took a step backward, her gaze meeting his at last.

"I'm so afraid for him."

"We won't let any harm come to him, fledgling."

She nodded fast, squeezing her eyes tight for a moment. When she opened them again, she searched his face.

"What about you? I know you're hurting. I can see it in your face."

He averted his own gaze, shaking his head in the negative.

"Don't lie to me, Roland. You're in pain. But so is Rhiannon."

He looked at her once more.

"Has she spoken to you about this?"

"Of course not. She can't even admit to herself that she's hurting.

But she is. When this is over"-- "When this is over, Rhiannon will go her own way, and I will go mine.

To do anything else has . has risks far too great to consider."

Tamara smiled very slightly. Her palm came up to cover his cheek.

"Oh, Roland. How can someone as wise as you be so blind? There are no risks too great, when it comes to love."

"Love?"He shook his head as her hand fell away."There is no love involved here. Your romantic leanings are clouding your vision."

"Your stubbornness is clouding yours."

"Everyone ready?"Eric's words accompanied the squeaky protest of the large barn door as he forced it open.

Roland looked beyond him to where Rhiannon stood, brushing bits of hay from her hair. She moved forward, yanking the car door open.

Roland couldn't stop himself going to her before she got in. He reached up, as she stiffened, and took a piece of hay from the back of her head. He held it up between them.

"You missed one."

Her eyes, as they fixed on his, were wide and fathomless. He scanned their ebony depths in search of some hint she would allow him to become her friend again.

Instead, he saw a glimmering tongue of flame beyond the jet, and felt an answering fire leap to life in his soul.

She still wanted him. And God help him, he wanted her, too. She licked her lips, swallowed hard and finally tore her gaze away. As she tucked herself into the car, Roland closed his eyes and swore under his breath.

"You'll work it out, old friend."Eric's hand clapped to Roland's shoulder, his deep voice, with a hint of amusement, was low and near his ear.

"If you don't go stark raving mad first."

Roland shot him a scowl and rounded the car's nose to slide into the front passenger seat. He wouldn't attempt to sit beside Rhiannon in the back, though his body was demanding he do that, and anything else necessary to be close to her. He needed to focus on Jamey. All of this anguished soul-searching would wait until the boy was safe and sound once more.

Rhiannon hated herself for still feeling such potent desire for a man who'd rejected her time and time again. Still, there had been something in his eyes, something new.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She was imagining things, that was all. The thought of leaving him, of never seeing him again filled her with such utter desolation she wondered how she would bear it. Already, the idea burrowed a fresh wound into her heart. It dug in right beside the pain she felt for Pandora, and the worry of losing her, as well. Was there to be nothing left to her?

When the car ran low on petrol, Eric pulled into a service station.

He and Tamara got out to stretch their legs. Roland leapt out, as well, and she saw him head for a pay phone. He'd barely said a word to her throughout the journey, but she'd felt his eyes upon her often, and looked up to see his head turned, his gaze caressing her.

And he didn't look away when she met it. He faced her and allowed her to search his eyes, to try to see what drove him ! ii ;I now. Unfortunately, all she detected was misery, regret and confusion. No help at all. In a moment, he returned to the car, got in and twisted around in the seat, propping an elbow along the back of it.

"I phoned that vet. He says Pandora is going to pull through."Rhiannon* was stunned, and the relief that rinsed her soul with his announcement overwhelmed her.

"She's all i: right? She's really going to be all right?"Roland nodded.

"She might have a permanent limp, but she's recovering nicely and he was able to save the leg."Rhiannon closed her eyes and released all of her breath at once. When she opened them again, she saw that self satisfied expression on his face.

"I suppose I owe you my thanks."He shook his head quickly.

"You owe me nothing. I only wanted to see some of the worry leave your eyes."She felt a lump form in her throat.

"Why?"

"Why? What do you mean, why? I care about you, Rhiannon. To see you in pain causes me pain, as well."The hot moisture that sprung to her eyes was rapidly battered back by her fluttering lids. She bit her lip and ; forced her breaths to come calmly, not in broken gasps. Was he saying he cared for her? She refused to ask.

She i wouldn't give him yet another opportunity to reject her. Yet, an insane and childish hope alighted in her heart, despite her best efforts to squelch it. Tamara returned to the car with Eric and they were off yet again, headlights bounding into the night. It was nearly dawn when they entered a tiny village in the shadows of the French Alps, and Tamara clutched Rhiannon's hand and whispered urgently, "This is it. This is what I saw."

Eric stiffened behind the wheel.

"You're certain, Tamara?"

"Yes."

Rhiannon licked her lips, her pain forgotten as she began feeling the anticipation of the showdown she sensed was to come. A little shiver of unease danced over her nape, making her shudder.

"We should park the car,"Roland said, his voice sure and calm.

"We'll strike out on foot, and search for Lucien's automobile. We can question any villagers we meet about the black car, and describe both Jamey and Lucien to them, in case they've been seen."

"Or we might try simply asking Lucien where he is. He wants us to find him.

I'm certain of it."

Roland turned to stare at Rhiannon.

"But then he would be forewarned."

"He already is, Roland. He knows we're coming,"she said slowly.

"But not exactly when we'll arrive."

"Not the precise moment, no. But he knows it will be by night. And he must know that tonight is the most likely possibility, simply by the distance traveled. We do not have the element of surprise in our arsenal, Roland."

She licked her lips, thinking again of Pandora's twisted leg."Nor do we need it."

"She's right,"Eric said.

"I think we should get this thing underway, right now, tonight. If we begin searching, we may not find them before dawn. Then we'll be forced to leave Jamey in his hands for another day."

Roland inhaled, pursed his lips and finally sighed.

"All right. Since time is of the essence, go ahead, Rhiannon. Make contact if you can."

Her brows rose at his "if you can,"but she settled onto the back seat and closed her eyes. The time has come, Lucien. Where are you?

She didn't need to try again, or to concentrate very hard at all. It was as if he'd been attuned to her already and was only awaiting her words to make the fact known.

Very good. You were faster than I'd hoped. There is a cabin, halfway up Mont Noir. I will await you there.

She frowned, disliking the confidence emanating from his mind. Is the boy well? Is he safe? I warn you, if you we harmed him, you will pay.

She waited. But there was no response. Focusing her being on his, she tried again. Lucien, this conversation is not over. I wish to know of the boy.

Again, there was no reply. Rhiannon opened her eyes, and shook her head.

"A cabin, halfway up a mountain called Noir. Odd name."

"I know where it is,"Roland said.

"Come, we'll have to go by foot.

There are no roads up that sheer face."

Eric clasped Roland's arm before he could get out of the car.

"We do not wish to be trapped up there at dawn, Roland. Is there time?"

Roland nodded.

"Three hours is sufficient. I'd guess we have nearer to four."Roland glanced into the rear seat, and Rhiannon bristled, sensing what he was about to suggest.

"Perhaps it would be better if some of us remain behind, in case the others are somehow bested."

"Good idea,"Rhiannon said quickly.

"You and Eric should wait here, while Tamara and I go up and teach this foolish mortal a lesson."

Eric turned fast, then understood her motives and smiled.

"I would never allow Tamara to face danger without me at her side.

Unfortunately, she feels the same about me. Aggravating as all hell, but there it is."He glanced l toward Roland.

"You can't hate the man for wishing to protect you, Rhiannon."

"I am capable of protecting myself,"she replied, her voice thin.

"And him, too, if necessary. If he knows me at all, he ought to know that."

"With your recklessness and your anger over the cat, Rhiannon, I am afraid you'll charge without hesitation into whatever kind of trap the infernal bastard has waiting."Roland sent her a quelling glare that held more than just anger.

"I was only hoping to keep you from an earlier than necessary demise, if possible."

She tilted her head to one side.

"With you there, constantly reminding me how foolish I am, how can I help but exercise a modicum of caution? You worry for nothing."

"I worry for you!"The words burst forth on an explosion of anger as Roland jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Rhiannon got out, slamming her door, as well, and stood facing him, formulating a scathing reply.

But his hand suddenly swept a path through her hair, settling in a gentle curl around her nape.

"Stay close to me, Rhiannon. And be careful. Please, for God's sake, be careful."

Again that stupid lump came into her throat, so large this time it nearly choked her. And she heard herself answer like an obedient schoolgirl.

"I will, Roland."

She shook herself.

A second later, the four of them started down the narrow, twisting roads of the village, toward the mountain that loomed at its edge. A dark, hulking shape, it rose from the smaller peaks around it like an angry god among sinners. Its sheer face seemed to be barren of anything, save dark-colored granite, and its peak was swathed in dense mists.

The climb would have been difficult for mortal men. Roland winced as he thought about Jamey, being forced, perhaps brutally, to ascend the ragged-edged slope. He would have been exhausted by the time they reached the top. Cold, perhaps hungry. Frightened. Grieving for Pandora, if he knew of her fate. The poor child had no way of knowing she would recover, or even that she'd been found.

He took a moment to curse himself for not seeking out the child's father long ago, then returned his attention to the matters at hand.

Rescuing Jamison. And protecting Rhiannon. He had no qualms about admitting the sudden fear for her that held him in its grip. For it was Rhiannon who seemed to be the sole focus of Lucien's obsession.

She was the one he'd attacked with his nasty little blade. She was the one whose blood he seemed determined to have running in his veins. She was the one he could contact psychically, and whom he could hear in turn. The man was no ordinary human. And his interest in Rhian-non, Roland sensed, had far greater meaning than any of them yet knew.

The slope angled sharply away from the level, grassy ground. An abrupt change from the lush and fragrant area :! around them. The surrounding hillsides were grassy, at least at their bases, and dotted with trees and vegetation. Not Mont Noir. A fitting locale, Roland thought, for the grim battle that was to come.

In very little time, they had ascended beyond the spots where malnourished tufts of coarse grass sprouted from between the stone, and clambered their way over sheer, bare rock.

Roland's foot slid once on the surface. He caught him-sell then reached behind him to grip Rhiannon's hand and help her along. The look she shot him was not one of anger, but one of puzzlement. Why should she seem so confused by his wanting to help her? Eric helped Ta-mara along in much the same way.

They were four dark shapes, scaling the side of a black mountain in the dead of night. To the world below, they would be invisible. Wind howled over them, buffeting them as if to send them tumbling down.

Air grew thinner and crisper with every foot they gained.

Finally, they crested to a level area and in the distance, Roland saw smoke spiraling into the night. He pointed to the pale gray column, and started toward a cluster of boulders and rock outcroppings. The smoke seemed to emanate from somewhere beyond them. Though the ground was level, and much safer here, he kept his hand curled around Rhiannon's. He half expected her to pull hers flee. When she didn't, he immediately wondered why.

Hurrying now, they raced over uneven, rocky terrain, rounded the cluster of stone that blocked their way and stood facing a reddish log cabin. Small windows stood on either side of a wide, plank board door, like eyes above a toothy grin. Frilly-edged curtains, from this distance, were the lacy lashes. So cozy, this little haven on high.

So innocuous in appearance. The perfect, comforting setting to disguise purest evil.

Her hand still resting in his, Rhiannon stood beside him, gazing as he did at the quaint little building. He studied the soft yellow glow of the lamplight from beyond the windows, and he felt the shudder that rippled through her.

Instinctively, he squeezed her hand. Just as instinctively, he thought, she squeezed his in return. The exchange took place in less than a second and then they were looking at each other. Eyes searching, a thousand questions in both sets. Not a single answer in either.

Roland swallowed. He released her hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders as they started for the cabin. She didn't pull away. Eric and Tamara walked abreast of them until they stood before the door.

"I'm certain he doesn't have the tranquilizer,"Rhian-non said softly as she reached for the door's curving metal grip. She closed her hand around it and pushed it inward.

It swung without a sound. Glancing around apprehensively, Roland stepped in before her. A hearth on the facing wall snapped and sparked invitingly. In an overstuffed chair, the back of Lucien's head was all that was visible.

"Come in, come in,"he said without turning or moving in any way.

"Rhiannon is quite right. I don't have the tranquilizer. And this is no sort of a trap. It's a meeting. One I hope will be mutually beneficial."

Roland stepped farther inside, still looking about him. His senses were honed for others present, but he sensed no one. Rhiannon came in beside him, but her eyes, he noted, were only for Lucien. They were filled with hatred and anger, and he touched her arm in an effort to calm her.

She stepped forward, gripped the back of the chair and yanked it onto its back. Lucien rolled to the floor, eyes wide. But as she loomed over him, his lips curved upward slightly.

"I'm going to kill you now, you bastard,"she said slowly.

"I'm going to take my time about it. Are you ready?"

He shrugged.

"I have nowhere to go."

She reached down for him, but Roland grabbed her arms from behind.

"Wait, Rhiannon."He looked down at the man who waited expectantly for him to finish.

"Lucien, where is the boy'?"

A solid line of eyebrows rose.

"When I tell you that, she'll be free to murder me. I'd be kind of foolish to give away my edge, now, wouldn't I?"

Rhiannon tugged, but Roland held her firm. He was surprised to see Tamara leap forward, grip Lucien by the front of his knit sweater and haul him to his feet, though she had to lift her arms above her head to do so. Seeing such a small figure exert so much brute strength was impressive, and strange.

"If you don't tell us where he is, then I will kill you, anyway, so you don't have much choice."

Again, the dark brows rose.

"Such tempers on you immortal women."He pulled his sweater from her grip and stepped backward, smoothing the fabric.

"I have a proposal to make. The least you can do is hear it before you make a decision."

Eric had vanished. Vaguely, Roland knew he was searching the cabin to ascertain for himself the presence of anyone else, including Jamey.

He emerged from a room then.

"Jamison isn't here."

"No. He isn't here. If you want to know where he is, you'll listen to what I have to say."

Rhiannon glanced over her shoulder at Roland, the look in her eyes assuring him it was safe to let her go. He released her arms, giving her a slight nod, then focused on Lucien once more.

"Say your piece, monsieur. But know that if we dislike what you have to tell us, you'll not live to finish the sentence."

Eric came to stand close to Tamara.

"And you'd best begin by telling us about Jamey. Where is he? Is he safe?"

Lucien drew himself up, though he already towered above all of them and fairly bulged with muscle.

"The boy is in perfect health and quite likely to remain that way. so long as you cooperate. His location, I'm afraid, . is something I cannot reveal to you just yet."

Tamara drew a shaking breath.

"Tell us what you want, Ii Lucien.

Let's stop playing games and get to it."

"A woman who thinks like me. I like that."Lucien walked brashly past them, bent and righted his easy chair. He circled to the front of it and sat down, waving a hand to the other seats nearby.

Rhiannon took the rocker nearest the fire and pulled it forward, directly in front of Lucien. She sat down, her gaze glued to his unshakably.

"We all know what you want, Lucien. The dark gift.

Immortality. But I don't believe you realize how foolish it is to ask it."

"Why foolish?"He leaned forward.

"Isn't eternal life what every man longs for in the depths of his soul?

Hasn't it been that way from the beginning of time?"

"Do you know how the change is accomplished?"

He nodded.

"You will drink from me. Then I from you. When our blood mingles, I will be one of you."

"You will never be one of us,"Tamara snapped. Rhiannon's eyes seemed to pierce the very space between them.

"What is to stop me from draining you dry once my teeth are embedded in your muscled neck, you fool?"

He smiled, his gaze unwavering.

"There is a letter in the hands of my lawyer, in which the boy's location is revealed. The letter is addressed to Curtis Rogers, of DPI. My lawyer has instructions to send a facsimile to Rogers tomorrow night at midnight."

Rhiannon blinked, and Lucien's smile widened.

"On the other hand, fair Rhiannon, if you transform me without mishap, I will reveal the boy's locale to you, giving you ample time to reach him first."

For the first time, Roland saw uncertainty in Rhiannon's eyes. She broke eye contact with Lucien, and sought Roland's gaze, instead.

"Do not trust him, Rhiannon. There would be nothing to stop him draining you dry, either. You'd be weakened by the act. You know that."

"A risk you'll have to take, my dear, if you want the boy safe. On the other hand, you can refuse and see him become a subject for live study by some of the world's most unscrupulous scientists."He leaned toward her still farther. She didn't back away.

"I understand you have firsthand knowledge of just how much ... discomfort they can impose on a living being."

Tamara caught her breath. Roland closed his eyes, knowing her memories of that horrific lab must be the stuff of Rhiannon's deepest nightmares.

"Here is how generous I can be,"Lucien went on. I'll give you time to think it over. Come back at sundown tomorrow. If you agree, we'll make the switch, and you'll have the boy back before the fax goes out. Or, you can kill me, try to find him on your own, fail and regret it for the rest of eternity. The choice is yours."

Rhiannon blinked slowly.

"It seems we have little choice."

"One thing, Rhiannon. You come to me alone, tomorrow evening. I don't trust them for a minute. You come alone, or the deal is off."

Roland felt a blade twist in his chest.

"Absolutely not,"he said in a low voice.

"I won't allow it."

Rhiannon acted as if he hadn't spoken.

"I hope there will be time, Lucien. The gift of endless night isn't given as simply as you seem to think. There is a ritual involved."

Roland frowned, wondering what on earth she was up to.

"I care nothing for your rituals. I only want the blood."She shrugged.

"Well, if you don't want the full extent of the strength, then we can dispense with the meditation. I supposed..."

Lucien frowned, licking his lips.

"How long does this ... ritual take?"

"Several hours."

He tilted his head.

"You won't need more than thirty minutes to get to the boy before Rogers does."

Rhiannon's brows arched. Roland thought he might be the only one who saw the triumph in her eyes.

"Then there is sufficient time."

"Rhiannon, you can't do this,"Tamara cried.

"I must, fledgling,"Rhiannon said softly.

"Think of Jamey."She turned, and fixed Tamara with an intense stare.

"Think of Jamey."

Tamara blinked, and averted her eyes.

"I--I will."Rhiannon tossed her hair over her shoulder as she got to her feet with fluid grace.

"Until tomorrow evening, then. Of course, you know you must fast from now until then. No food, no drink. Otherwise, you won't cross the threshold.

You will die upon it."

Roland frowned again. It was absolute nonsense. Not that he intended to allow her to go through with it.

"And you mustn't sleep tonight, or tomorrow, either,"

she went on, crossing to the door.

"If the conditions are not just right, you will die. Do you understand?"

Why was she spouting such drivel?

"You seem to take great care with the life of a man you despise, Rhiannon."

Lucien's voice was laced with the shadows of suspicion.

"I would kill you as soon as speak to you, Lucien. It is the boy's life I'm taking care with. If you die before you tell me his whereabouts, he'll fall into the hands of devils. That, I cannot allow."

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