Dream Quest

Edited by

J.C. Wilder & Linnea Sinclair

ISBN 1-55316-036-3

Published by LTDBooks

www.ltdbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Dream Quest: Nine Spellbinding Paranormal Romances

ISBN 1-55316-036-3

Published by LTDBooks in electronic and trade paperback formats.

www.ltdbooks.com

Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Dream quest [electronic resource] : nine spellbinding paranormal romances / edited by J.C. Wilder and Linnea Sinclair.

Also available in print format.

ISBN 1-55316-036-3

I. American fiction--21st century. I. Wilder, J.C., 1965-

II. Sinclair, Linnea, 1954-

PS648.S5D74 2003a813'.608C2003-903976-5

Foreword

It lives in the soft sparkle of moonlight, in the quiet hush of the stellar wind through the velvet blackness of space. It lives in the first flare of heat as two hands touch...in the unchained burst of joy as two hearts soar. That is where love lives, waiting, seeking, yearning.

Come join our quest, our Dream Quest, for love. Make the journey to other stars, other worlds, times filled with magicks and inexplicable happenings that only the heart, and love, can understand. But be forewarned. Love on this quest will face challenges unlike anything in our daily lives. More than just beliefs are threatened; lives will be put in danger. To survive, love may have to adapt in ways that, well, we've imagined only in our dreams.

Dream Quest. Reach for the moonlight. Turn the page...

Linnea Sinclair
J.C. Wilder

Editors

The Beauty in the Beast

by K.G. McAbee

K.G. [Gail] McAbee has written seven novels and collaborated with the incredible Ann Aguirre on a non-fiction book for writers, Surviving the Novel Experience, which won the 2002 Independent E-Book Award for best reference book. In addition, her more than forty short stories have appeared in various print and ezines, and her books are available from LTDBooks, Echelon Press, Awe-Struck E-Books, and NovelBooks, Inc.

Her short story "The Scent of Gardenias" won first prize in the Writers' Journal Fiction Contest, and her novel A Fine Impersonation was both an EPPIE and a Dream Realm fantasy finalist. Her short "End of the Beginning"was nominated for a Sapphire Award and her first novel Escape the Past won the Dorothy Parker Award of Excellence from Reviewers International Organization.

Gail lives in a log cabin built in 1818 in the beautiful upstate of South Carolina with Jerry, her extraordinary sweetheart, and Geoff and Mali, her no less extraordinary dogs. Gail can be reached at gailmacabee@yahoo.com

"Erik, my boy, I'm afraid that I'm in horrible trouble."

My father stood before me on the dirt floor of our humble cottage, wringing his hands as though he were the erring son quaking before me, the fierce and condemning father. A log disintegrated in the hearth behind him, sending up a shower of sparks and a puff of angry blue-gray smoke. Simmering in a battered pot over the fire, the stew that I had made for supper sent out a pale but delicious odor that battled unsuccessfully with the smell of our two cows that lived on the other side of the wall.

"What is it, sir?"I asked, my heart in my throat, for I knew all too well my dear father's long list of weaknesses.

Were we to lose our tiny cottage this time, perhaps, as we had already lost our big house, most of our land and all our livestock save the two aforementioned cows? Were the bailiffs after him, ready to do as they had threatened so often, lock him up in our village jail or, worse yet, send him to the capital and the great debtors' prison that sprawled on its western side?

"Erik, my dear boy..."

I confess, I was finding his hand-wringing rather irritating. "Yes, Father?"I hoped I didn't sound as sharp as I was feeling.

"Well, my boy, you know that I have this little weakness..."

My poor father had a large and varied supply of them, as I've mentioned, none of which were cheap, all of which got him continually into trouble of one kind or another. He liked to drink, he liked to gamble, he liked to argue with little to back up his arguments, he liked to...but there, why go on? I loved him dearly but he was not a comfortable man with whom to live. I could hardly blame my two brothers for departing and leaving him in my hands--though oftentimes, in the dark reaches of the worrisome night, I did so.

"I fear, my child, that I have been rash enough to make a promise that might be rather hard for us to keep..."

I sighed. "Not money, Father, I hope? You know we only have enough to pay our taxes, and I'd really hate to sell anything else."

Not that we had much left to sell. We had gotten rid of most of our old possessions when we'd sold our big house and moved to this hovel, save a few personal items and a dozen or so books. At the thought of them, a chill struck my heart.

"Father, we're not going to have to sell our books, are we?"Though what those ragged old tomes would fetch in our tiny village, where few save myself could even read, I could not begin to imagine.

"No, no, dearest boy, not at all! In fact, you may well find that you shall soon have all the books your heart desires!"

Well, for all the delightful images those words called up, I could hardly believe it.

"You'd best explain, Father,"I said, trying to resign myself to this newest catastrophe. "But wait, you're freezing. Sit down and warm yourself while I fix you some supper."

I bundled him into our best armchair--indeed, our only armchair--and filled him a bowl of stew. He took a bite or two, but his tragic thoughts interfered with his meal. He set the bowl on the floor beside him and eyed me with a weak smile.

"My dearest Erik, my loyal son!"

I didn't like the sound of this at all. I sighed. "You'd best tell me, Father..."

Well, the story was the same one that I'd been hearing for all of my twenty-some years--Father had played a "friendly"game that wasn't quite so friendly as he had imagined, and ended up owing a rather large sum of money. The same old story, but with one rather odd exception. This time Father had somehow managed to find someone to pay the sum for him. Of course, he was now indebted to this philanthropist--who turned out to be, to my surprise, the richest woman around. This woman, of whom I had never heard until now, lived in a huge old stone castle behind high forbidding walls, out in the forest that stretched threateningly between our village and the mountains. For a change, however, Father didn't owe this woman money or land or livestock in repayment of his debt.

He owed her--me.

"What do you mean, she wants me to come and live with her?"I asked, aghast.

"Why, just that, my dear boy, but I assure you, I would never have agreed to her terms if I thought that it would be a bad thing for you. She--well, not her, exactly, as I've never actually spoken to her, but her major domo--anyway, this gentleman assures me that you will be treated like a member of the lady's own family, with good food and clothing and books and everything you might desire."

"Everything, Father?"I asked, concerned by the stricken look on his face.

"Well, she did just make one small request."My father sighed and shook his head, then wiped away a tear that trickled down his wrinkled cheek. "She doesn't want you to come back here and visit."

Well, this was simply ridiculous! How could I possibly leave my poor father to fend for himself--fending, mind you, never having been one of his talents--and go gadding off to live in a castle?

Although the thought was strangely alluring, I must admit...

"Nonsense,"I said, resolutely banishing the images that danced through my head. "We'll just have to think of something else to offer her instead of me, that's all."

But, regardless of intensive brain cudgeling on both our parts, we were unable to think of anything else at all to offer this woman in payment of my poor father's debt of honor. And so, some three days later, I had all my scanty supply of clothes packed in an old saddlebag, four books that I could not bear to leave banded together with a stout leather strap, and was awaiting a conveyance on the front step of our house. My poor father sat just inside the door, and I could hear the occasional sniff as we each thought of my fate.

Since we lived on the outskirts of our village, we seldom had passersby. But this morning, most of the village had turned out. They clustered about our shabby cottage, trying to look as if they had some business there, though failing dismally.

"So, Master Erik,"called one wag, "it's off to seek your fortune, is it?"

"Aye, he'll be too good for us now,"replied another. "Won't speak a word to us when he passes us in the street."

This weak sally called forth general mirth. And, since few of them had deigned to speak to me or my father since our reversals in fortune, I could not disagree. I had tried, when we'd first moved here after our estates had been sold to pay my father's debts, to make some friends in the village. I reasoned that I'd be there for some time and did not wish to be lonely. But no one felt comfortable with me, I fear, since I had descended from the status of "young master"to "neighbor."It had made my life a bit lonely, I'll admit. Books are a pleasure and a delight, but when one has read and reread and reread again all he possesses, he'd like to at least have someone to discuss them with, you know.

The crowd grew larger, but there was no sign of anyone coming to fetch me. We'd had a letter the day before, stating--rather coldly, I thought--that we could expect a coach to appear at eight precisely, by the village clock. It was still some minutes before that time, but there was no sign of any conveyance in either direction of the dusty road.

Perhaps it won't come after all, I hoped.

An old, old woman dressed in dusty gray leggings and a brown tunic, one toe peeking though a slit in her boot, sidled up to me where I sat on the stoop. She leaned down to me, a gap- toothed smile illuminating her face. Laying a withered finger against my cheek, she stroked it once and whispered, "Have a care, young sir. You're a pretty boy, and that one in the forest eats pretty boys fer her breakfast. Aye, she's a fearsome ugly beast what's done that for a hunnerd years or more, as I heared from my old gran before me. Have a care."Then she gave me a pitying pat on the head and tottered away.

The village clock began to strike as I digested this startling bit of information. I looked around for the mad old woman, but the crowd had swallowed her.

"Well, no fine carriage for you, hey?"crowed our neighbor from across the way, a shabby man who worked in the livery stables. "I knowed it, mind you."

I was wondering just how it was that everyone in town knew our business when the clock counted its last stroke. The sound, a rusty clang, still hung in the air when--

A coach appeared in the dusty road before our cottage. There were a few cries of wonderment, an undercurrent of unease, and the entire group of villagers disappeared as quickly as they'd arrived.

I gulped at the sight that rose above me. A coach--and not just a coach, mind you, but one pulled by a matched team of four elegant blacks, each with one white plume rising from its noble head. The coach itself was also black, with a silver crest on the door and a coachman dressed in black, with a tall hat of silvery fur.

I peered up and down the road. No one. Nothing. And more uncomfortable still, no sign of any tracks in the dirt, in either direction.

But there before our door was the coach, in all its glory, solid and material and unable to be denied.

"My boy,"whispered my father from inside our doorway, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Well, it matched my own, I will admit. I would have given anything to have called off this farce. But what could I do? Either I offered myself as payment for my father's debt...or my father would end up in jail.

The coachman had not taken notice of our presence. He sat with regal hauteur, gazing over his team's heads.

I cleared my throat, but was unable to think of anything to say, still being amazed at the coach's appearance. At that instant, and as if my throat clearing had been a signal, a footman who'd been hidden until now jumped down from his perch at the rear of the coach. He trod forward on booted legs, bowed and said, "Master Erik?"

I nodded. I could not think of a thing to say.

"I am Germain, at your service, sir. If you are quite ready to depart?"

Things were moving at far too rapid a pace to suit me, but I had little choice in the matter. I managed to make a sort of strangled sound, which Germain seemed to take for assent. He seized my saddlebag and bundle of books in one hand, turned and flung open the door of the coach with the other.

"Wait,"I succeeded in producing a decipherable word at last, "I wish assurance that my father will be cared for in my, er, absence."

"Naturally, sir. It is only expected in one of your high character,"replied Germain smoothly. "I was told to give you this."

He handed me a sheet of paper, folded and sealed with black wax. I noted that the seal was the same as the crest on the coach--a wolf, his head upraised at a sliver of moon--then tore it open.

Sir,

You may be quite sure that your father will have the utmost in comforts during your absence.

Signed,

Lady Arraine DuBois

Well, she might almost have read my mind, I thought uneasily. But before I could say another word I was ushered with polite ceremony into the coach; the door slammed hard behind me. I heard Germain take his place and the coachman crack his whip.

"Good-bye, my dearest boy!"shouted my father.

I leaned toward the window, in the process knocking against my bundle of books. I grabbed at it, placed it securely beside me on the seat, then looked out the window to catch a final glimpse of my father and tell him to take care.

Our cottage was not there.

Now mind you, I had felt no sensation of movement, had not seen or experienced any sign that we had gone a step past our cottage. But no cottage was outside the window, nor village, nor dusty road.

What was outside quite took my breath away.

Stone walls stretched on either side as far as my eye could see. A cobbled road lay beneath the coach. Gates of rusted iron towered toward the clouds. Then, with a low growling snarl like an angry beast, those gates opened, though I could not see what opened them.

This time, I felt the coach move as we proceeded down a tree-lined passage toward an invisible goal. I found myself clutching my bundle of books to my breast as if it were a lifeline. I looked at my hands, noted a tiny scar at the base of my right thumb--received at my first experience of chopping kindling--and felt some tiny measure of reassurance. I was still me, it was apparent, but I was none too sure of the world around me.

The coach pulled to a smooth stop and I dared a look out the window.

A grand castellated manor house, far larger than the one I'd spent my earlier life in, with a tower at each corner, reared itself up four stories to glare down at me. I had the uneasy impression that it was just biding its time before it squashed me.

Germain appeared at the door to the coach, flung it open, seized the bundle from my unresisting hands, gathered up the saddlebag and ushered me down.

"Welcome, Master Erik, welcome indeed,"he murmured as he herded me toward the tall double doors, the right one of which was opening before us. "We are all right glad to have you here."

The door opened with a tiny snarl, the baby brother to the one the gates had made. I mounted the five steps to the door, my heart bouncing about most distractingly within my chest. I stood staring at the age-blackened wood of the door, carved across its entire expanse, though I had neither the time nor the inclination to examine it more closely. Indeed, I had but an instant to recognize in the center of it the same crest that the coach bore, before the door swung fully open.

A short squat woman, dressed in black and silver livery, stood within. This was not, I could see, my...hostess? Warder? Whatever I was to call her.

"Welcome, Master Erik,"said the woman. There was no smile on her swarthy face, no welcoming look in her eyes to match her words. "I am Marta. Will you come inside, sir?"

I stepped over the threshold. Germain followed me inside. As the woman was pushing the door to, I glanced outside.

The coach and horses were no longer there.

Then the latch of the door snicked to; it made a sound like a bitter laugh.

* * *

I looked around the room Marta had said was mine. Tall ceilings arched above me, painted a somber gray, picked out here and there with dark red. The walls were swathed with thick drapery, a matching red that reminded me, in my current state, of dried blood. A massive bed occupied the wall opposite a long bank of windows, a huge desk stood brooding in a corner, and two deep chairs sat before a crackling blaze in a fireplace that would have engulfed half our tiny cottage.

But there was one bright spot in the silent room. An entire wall was filled, from floor to ceiling, with shelf after glorious shelf of books.

"Come,"I said aloud--then jumped at the sound of my own voice. Shaking my head at my foolish reaction, I began again, even louder, "Come. I shall be comfortable, it's clear. And I shan't lack for books, so my poor dear father was right on that count, at least."

At the thought of my father, left alone and unhappy without me, my spirits came near to failing. But I gave myself a shake, told myself that it was no good dwelling on things I could not change, and walked over to investigate the books.

Well. If I had had the run of the king's library, and been told to take what I wished, I could not have chosen more to my liking. Rows of geography and travel, the literature of several countries, biographies and histories...it was an embarrassment of riches. I ran appreciative fingers over the rich leather bindings, breathed in their luscious smell, took a book down at random for closer observation. It was a biography of Sir Riccardo Bertone, a famous traveler who had discovered the source of the great river Nil, which originated deep in the jungles of the island of Aphricanus. I turned page after page, almost salivating as I caught a word here and there.

"A book lover, I see."

I turned. My heart was doing its old darting about and I fear my mouth hung open.

A woman stood just inside the door to my room.

A woman, but such a woman I had never seen. She was tall and sleek and dressed in elegant black, from the high-necked silk shirt that began at her chin to the tops of gleaming boots. Glossy hair as pale as moonlight billowed about her face.

Or where her face should have been, that is. If face she had--and in my present state I would not have bet my life upon it--if face she had, I could not see it.

She wore a silver mask.

A mask, cold and rigid, inhuman in its beauty, frightening in its purity. Static, quiescent, yet somehow dancing and burgeoning with life. That life came not from the mask itself, but from the woman's eyes, eyes that glinted like emeralds through holes in the mask.

Her eyes, burning like tiny green fires, were all that could be seen of her face.

At once, the old woman's words came back to me. A fearsome ugly beast that ate young men for breakfast. That old woman was mad, no doubt about it...but why did this apparition wear a mask, then?

I realized that I was staring, that she had asked me a question to which I had not replied, that I stood there with my mouth hanging open. I had no doubt that she was my...what? Hostess? Keeper?

Jailer?

"Uh...yes. I love books,"I managed to gasp out at last.

A nod. The shadows of the room--When had the room become shadowed, I wondered vaguely?--danced over that silvery surface as though they had found a home. Behind me, the fire popped and crackled in the huge fireplace, but no glints of ruddy light broached the pristine silver mask. No, only shadows kept company on its planes of dull gray-white.

"Good,"she said, and for the first time I noticed that her voice, instead of sounding muffled by the mask, was instead silvery clear. "I have not had the pleasure of entertaining a guest before who shared my love of books. We shall be friends. I am Arraine DuBois."She gave a short bow, a mere nod of her masked head.

I answered her bow with a deeper one of my own. "Erik Linhoevre, at your service, my lady."

Was it my imagination, or did I see a smile curve that impassive mask? I shook my head at my own fancies. But the mask had a smile indeed. I could see it now, a tiny thing lifting one carved corner. Odd that I had not noticed it before.

"I suspect that you must be wondering why you are here?"

I nodded. "You must admit, my lady, that this farce is not the most common way to repay a debt."

"Debt,"she said, and I would swear that the smile on the mask was gone. "Debt? Is that how...? Ah, yes, your...father owes me money, does he not?"

"He does."Her dismissive tone irritated me at once--or was it my fear that expressed itself so? "As you know quite well, I am sure. But why you have decided to be repaid in this odd fashion, I cannot understand."

"You are not simply a man who is lost in his books and his fancies, but like to understand everything that goes on about you, I take it?"

"I do,"I said; then I remembered the strange things that had gone on about me all that day, which I had perforce to accept as they happened. "That is, I prefer to...I mean I..."

I broke off in confusion. I could feel my face burning. I turned away and faced the fire, the book I had forgotten until that instant once more heavy in my hand. I took several deep breaths. It would not do to anger this woman with expressions of my discomfort, not at least until I had found out exactly what her plans for me were.

"I confess that strange things, for which I have no explanation, have occurred today. But you cannot think that I will simply--"I said, turning to face her, a stiff smile plastered on my face.

"I think that you will live here, in as much comfort as I can provide, and keep me company when I wish it,"the lady said. There was no emotion in her voice. "That is what I think."

"When you wish it?"My smile was frozen to my face.

"Is that too much to ask, in payment of this 'debt' of yours?"Now her voice was cool and amused and her eyes were shards of emerald set in silver.

I turned away from her, dismissed that false smile from my lips, and strove to control my rising anger--was it anger or fear? "No, it is not too much,"I admitted. "In fact, some might think it too little, in view of the amount of money involved. If you--"I turned back yet again, my anger in check, not wishing to offend her on our first meeting.

Arraine DuBois no longer stood inside the room.

The door was closed. It had been closed, so far as I knew, since it had shut behind me on my first entering this room.

But the woman had been there. The image of her mask was burned on my eyes, and I could still feel the heat of the anger her tone and her words had engendered within my breast.

"Well,"I said aloud, feeling and sounding as helpless as I was. I collapsed into an armchair "This is going to be interesting."

* * *

This set the pattern of my succeeding days. I would be in my bedroom, or in the library, or on the veranda, or in the snug sitting room where I was served my meals, just off the library--and Arraine DuBois would appear when my eyes were focused somewhere else, or my back was turned. She would inevitably make me angry in some way, then disappear.

Other than this, I had the run of the mansion, servants who attended to my every need, and the books in my room were but a fraction of those in the rest of the house. Meals were plentiful and delightful, my old clothes disappeared my first night there and were never seen again, replaced by rich and elegant attire, and I had nothing to do but what pleased me--so long as I did not try to go beyond the high stone walls that encircled the premises.

This I had attempted on the next morning after I had made the acquaintance of Arraine DuBois. I had breakfasted both well and alone, and had wandered out of the sitting room onto the veranda. The gardens that encircled the manor were lush and fragrant, containing many plants that I had never seen, and some that I had read about and would not have believed could live in our clime. Heavy vines bearing huge red blossoms, their odor a heady mixture of perfume and rot, were intertwined and jumbled across trees and bushes, though some spots were inexplicably bare.

I was going over the few words I had exchanged with my hostess the evening before as I walked along an overgrown gravel path that twisted and turned through the gardens. I took turnings without thought, without regard as to where they were leading me, passing statues of strange mythical beasts and oddly deformed beings, all green with moss. The way became more and more overgrown, the pathway rutted and cluttered with stones.

At last I reached an end to the path. Before me reared a massive wall of dry stacked stone, reaching far above my head and, like the statues, green with moss and mold. I eyed it absently for a time, my head cocked to one side.

"Your pardon, Master Erik."

Startled, I turned. Behind me in the shade of a huge oak stood Germain, a subservient smile on his face, his black livery blending with the shadows.

"Germain,"I said weakly.

"At your service, sir."He gave a deep bow.

"Really, you people have to start making more noise, or I shall die of an apoplexy,"I said.

"Oh, surely not, sir,"came his smooth reply. "Why, a gentleman of your age and habits will live for many a long year yet."

For some reason, this did not give me the most comforting of feelings.

"Yes, no doubt,"I replied. "But you must admit, it can be a bit, er, surprising to have someone pop up and speak when you think you're alone."

"Indeed, sir? Is any of us ever really alone, sir?"he asked.

"Well, I suppose if you wish to get metaphysical about it, one might say that we are not. But I would like to believe that, if I think I am alone, I am. Privacy, you understand, Germain--privacy."

"Yes, sir. Will you return to the house now, sir?"

"Why should I? I've only just left. And if you and Marta are going to feed me every day as you have so far, I shall need a great deal of exercise,"I said with a smile, hoping to call some sort of response from the imperturbable Germain.

"Indeed, sir. There is a lovely walk this way,"he motioned to my left, "and an even better one that way,"to my right, "and of course, others. But this is not, perhaps, the best way to go. As you have no doubt noticed, the path is not cared for, and the wall here is unstable."

Unstable? I turned to look. Yes, there were some fallen stones, and a statue of a wolf suckling her litter had been broken in two by a flat rock that must have fallen from the top of the wall.

"Very well, Germain,"I sighed. "Let us return by one of these pleasant walks of yours."

"Sir,"he said.

I proceeded off to my right, turned to ask him a question--and he was no longer there.

"Really,"I said in some irritation, "people here are most extraordinary."

* * *

One evening during my second week at the manor, after a day spent exploring some portion of the grounds, I was ravenous. A particularly good supper was set before me by Marta, and Germain refilled my wine glass much more often than I was accustomed. I then retired to the huge library and selected a book from the shelves, seating myself in one of the two chairs that flanked the fireplace. I soon found myself nodding over my book before the clock struck nine.

I sat up straight in my chair, stretched my arms and came near to dislocating my jaw with a massive yawn.

"A busy day?"

I started. My book fell from my lap to the hearthrug.

Arraine DuBois sat in the chair opposite me.

"Uh...yes,"I said, determined that I would not show how her sudden appearance startled me. Really, one would think that I'd be used to it by now. "And yours?"

"Not...so busy,"she said.

She was comfortably settled in the chair, her long booted legs stretched out before her, dressed in her usual plain black clothing. She looked as though she had been there for some time, and I wondered if I had been dozing.

"Er...well,"I replied.

There was silence for a time as I scouted about for something to discuss. Then I ventured to remark, "You have a magnificent library. You must truly love books as much as I do."

"Yes. One must have something to love."Arraine DuBois was deep in the wing- backed chair, but the firelight limned her mask. Tonight I could detect no smile on its cold impassive surface.

"You must read a great deal?"I asked, fighting down what felt like panic.

"I do. It is one pleasure that never fails."

"Yes,"I cried, glad to know that we shared common passion, for I had never met her in the library before and was beginning to think she did not care for books as much as she had said. "Yes indeed! When my poor father lost everything and we had to move to the cottage, the only thing I missed was our library. I was only able to save a few books from the estate sale, and those few became my solace in my loneliness."

"Solace,"she murmured. "Yes. And loneliness needs solace, does it not?"

"It does,"and I did not think she was still talking about books, "it does. But for all my love of reading, sometimes I pine for someone with whom to talk of what I've read, to discuss and argue, to wonder over ancient times and foreign lands."

"Do you think that is why I've brought you here?"she asked, and I will swear that her mask was smiling now. "To chat of an evening beside the fire, talking of distant lands and strange beasts?"

"You must understand that I have no explanation of your actions,"I said, a strange excitement building in my breast. "Why did you have me brought here?"

"Why, because your father owes me money. Is that not the reason, the only reason? What else could there be?"

Now the mask had lost its smile. Instead it snarled at me from the dimness of the depths of her chair. I was reminded again of the words of that strange old woman who had whispered in my ear.

"Perhaps you've brought me here to eat me for your breakfast,"I muttered with a weak laugh that died a'borning. "Perhaps you're fattening me up, with all this wonderful food, and keeping me chained to your wonderful library so I shan't grow tough and muscular."

She said nothing for so long I wondered if she'd heard my foolish words. Then: "Where did you hear such nonsense?"she asked in a voice as icy as a winter's morn.

"Well, what can you expect me to think?"I almost shouted. "What, am I to ignore the magical things that are always happening here? What are you? What is this place? Am I asleep, dreaming? Are you spirit, or are you flesh?"

"I am darkness. I am despair."

There was such pain in her whispering voice that at once I was sorry I had spoken so; I would have given worlds to call back my thoughtless words. But they, wild animals, had escaped the prison of my tongue, and I was helpless to restrain them.

"I regret that I have pained you,"I began awkwardly. "I would that we were friends, and that my stay here be a pleasure for us both."

Arraine DuBois rose to her feet. As tall as I, she towered over me in my chair.

"No, Master Linhoevre,"she said, and I would swear that her mask was twisted in a grimace of pain. "I fear that your visit here will be the death of one of us."

Then she stalked from the room.

If my thoughts had not been in such turmoil, I might have been happy that, at least for once, I had seen her leave the room instead of simply disappear when my back was turned.

* * *

Despair, Arraine DuBois had named herself. Darkness.

I could not understand how or why she said such things. I could not...but I wondered mightily.

Day followed day, one much like another. I read, I walked, I wandered the house and grounds, I spoke with Marta and with Germain.

And I thought of my poor father. How was he coping, this least coping of men? Did he miss me, did he think of me in the endless reaches of the night?

At last, I knew what I must do.

That evening, I waited with growing impatience for the nightly visit by Arraine DuBois. The library was warm and inviting, the books beamed down on me like old friends, but I ignored them as I awaited her nightly appearance.

"You are troubled?"

There she was, sitting in the chair opposite me; she'd materialized between two blinks of an eye. But I did not even start, so used to her sudden appearances had I become.

"Yes, I am. I'm worried about my father."

"He is well. He has all that he could wish."

"All but someone who loves him,"I snapped. "All but that, and what is everything else in all the world, when love is missing?"

Arraine sat, her mask a silver pain. "That is...true, Master Linhoevre. But what of your promise? To stay here, to never see him again...Will you break your word?"

I shook my head. "Is it a word that should be kept, forced from me as it was?"

"Sometimes we are forced into things that we do not wish, but these things become paramount in our lives. We are not always given a choice."

I fell to my knees before her, grasped her hands in my own. Her fingers lay icy and unresponsive within mine. I thought I heard her gasp, but I must have been mistaken.

"Please,"I begged, "please let me see that my father is well, wants for nothing. Please, let me see him but once, and I will never ask you again."

I watched her emerald eyes, peering down at me from their silver prison. Was it my imagination, or did they begin to take on a crimson glow, as if the firelight was taking up home there?

"No!"shouted Arraine DuBois, jerking her hands from mine and springing to her feet; her voice was harsh and bitter. "No! Why should you have your heart's desire? Why should you and not...."

I scrambled to my feet, held out a placating hand, but she pushed me aside and ran from the room.

* * *

Well, as you might imagine, I was more than a little troubled as I made my lonely way up to my bedchamber. I shut the door behind me and thought for a brief instant of locking it, but even if I had had a key, there was no keyhole. I glanced around for something to block it, then shrugged my shoulders and gave a bitter laugh.

Of what use would locking or blocking be, in a house where folk appeared and disappeared at will? I knew, I could not help but know, that strange forces were at large in this house, inexplicable powers that were impossible for me to withstand. If I were destined to die--as what Arraine had once said to me did appear to indicate--then a barricaded door would be no hindrance to approaching death.

I removed my boots, flung myself onto the bed without undressing and closed my eyes, thoughts swirling across my tired mind. The image of that strange silver mask changing its expression, of emerald eyes turning crimson, haunted me.

I must have fallen asleep almost at once. The effects of a busy day, a heavy meal and more wine than usual negated my mental turmoil, though I had been convinced that I would toss and turn for hours. But I knew I was asleep, for I began to dream.

That it was a dream, I did not doubt. My mind felt disassociated from my body, floating invisibly above it. I watched in calm concentration as my body rose and stalked on stockinged feet to the shelves of books that made up one side of my room. Unerringly, my hands reached out and plucked a half dozen dusty tomes from a low shelf. I gazed down from the heights as my hands stacked the books on a table, reading with no difficulty the titles. They were all collections of sermons; not my usual reading pleasure, so I had not examined them in my time there. Then I watched as my body turned to the now empty shelf, reached a hand in and scrabbled across the wall behind where the books had rested.

A tiny click...and a section of the bookcase slid out. An opening wide enough to slip through appeared, and I floated after my body as it disappeared into dimness.

But the dim light was an illusion. As the section of bookcase swung to behind, I could see, though there was no apparent source of light, a stone stairway twisting out of sight. My body began the journey downward as familiarly as if it took the same path every day. I followed, floating just above, thinking that this was without a doubt the most amazing dream I'd ever had...

The stairs took a final turn and ended at an ancient carved door. My hand reached out to open it and I--we walked inside.

The huge room must have once been the dungeons of Arraine DuBois's manor. Rusty chains hung from the sweating walls, and I saw an iron maiden pushed against one wall of the huge rectangular chamber. Other devices with which I was unfamiliar stood here and there; I was not interested in studying them, for I feared what would now happen.

In the center of the room was an iron brazier full of coals. In my present state of what I can only call "disembodiment,"I could feel neither heat nor cold. But I could see the waves of heat rising from the fire, and the iron bowl glowed crimson. I watched, aghast, as my body walked toward this brazier and seated itself beside it in a straight chair.

For a time, nothing happened. I found I had the power to flit about and, oddly enough, through things, feeling and touching nothing. I searched the vast chamber, finding other unpleasantnesses that I will not discuss. But I could find no other inhabitant.

I returned to my body, which was sitting at ease in the chair.

"Stand."

The word echoed through me, setting up vibrations that almost made me lose my grip on consciousness. My body obeyed, standing on stockinged feet--too near the brazier to suit me.

I looked around. I could see no one who could have uttered the word. I dove toward my body, desperate to enter it and awaken from this dream before something disastrous, monstrous...I do not know what I thought, what I believed might happen. But I wanted to awaken more than I had ever wanted anything.

Then, the oddest of a series of oddities occurred. Where nothingness was a heartbeat before, now stood the tall slender figure of a woman dressed in inky black, with silvery hair billowing down her back. It was, it could only be...Arraine DuBois.

But she was without her mask.

Her face...her face was the stuff of nightmares. The lower half projected forward like the muzzle of some animal, with the mouth hanging open to display long, sharp, pointed teeth. A thin stream of silvery drool hung from the corner of that mouth, which was topped with two slits for a nose. Her eyes were huge and round, as red as the coals in the brazier; they crackled with a lust for blood.

My blood.

My uninhabited body stood as if this hideous creature were not even there. I watched in horror as she stalked toward it, slavering in anticipation. I imagined those sharp white teeth sinking into my throat, tearing it out as I watched in my helpless, wraithlike state.

"No!"

I thought that it was my ghostly presence that cried out, my voice made audible in my terror at the death that was stalking me.

But it was not.

"No. I will not allow it."

Another form stalked forward from nothingness. This form was, to my eyes, the same as the first, that is, Arraine DuBois. Tall, lean, dressed in black, silvery hair, and she too wore no mask.

But the difference in the two faces...

This woman, whoever she was, had the face of a fallen angel. Straight nose, square jaw, high cheekbones, broad forehead; she was perfection in visage. And her eyes were not the ravening red of Arraine DuBois, but as crystal green as a mountain lake.

Green eyes...Arraine DuBois had green eyes.

Were they both Arraine DuBois? I was dreaming, after all....

"You have no choice in the matter,"spat the first Arraine, tearing her gaze from my helpless body and turning to face the new arrival; she moved like a wolf about to strike. "It is my turn. You had the last one."

"Yes, I did,"said the other, the fallen angel. "For a time. Until you murdered him."

"Why, I believe I did, did I not? Yes, I remember. He was sweet and tender. His juices were like nectar running down my throat."

"This one you shall not have,"said the second woman. "I will not allow it, not this time, and not ever again."

"You know the bargain,"laughed the other, her eyes spitting red flames. "If you refuse, then I am the winner. I shall take my prey wherever I wish it. None shall be safe from me."

"Yes, I know the bargain. But there is a way..."

"You would not dare!"

"Wouldn't I?"

The two sprang at each other, locked hands about each other's throats. They slashed with tooth and nail, tore a hand free to strike, tripped and tumbled about on the floor. In the tumult, they slammed against the brazier, tilting it over. The coals scattered across the stone flaggings. I watched as once bounced off my stockinged foot...

I sat up in bed. Outside my window a bird offered a cheerful greeting to the dawn.

My heart was pounding. I shook my head with a weak laugh and promised myself no more overindulgence in wine at supper.

I flung the covers off.

I was fully dressed except for my boots. My stockings were filthy--and one had a hole burnt into it.

* * *

"What am I to do? What am I to do?"I repeated this meaningless phrase as I paced back and forth before my bedchamber windows. Meaningless, I knew, for there was no way for me to escape this place.

Arraine DuBois was indeed my captor, my jailer. But who--what--was that other creature that looked so much like Arraine? Was it dead? Were they both dead? Had they torn each other to bits last night? Or would one greet me during the day, not knowing that I remembered my last trip to the dungeons?

My last trip, but not my first one, I knew.

I calmed at last, changed my clothing and washed my face and hands. As I was doing the last, a gong sounded. Breakfast.

Well, I decided, I might as well die full as hungry. And I had other plans than breakfast. The knife that always lay beside my plate was long and sharp.

The meal was as excellent as usual. I partook of every dish that Marta set before me, praising her lavishly. Her swarthy face flowed at my words and I thought I could even detect a blush. So pleased was she that I did not believe she noticed the large silver knife I hid under my jacket...

I was determined that I would not go easily into that creature's maw if it still lived; not if I could help it. I knew, from my dream, how to reach its lair; and if it had been successful in the fight, I would do my best to destroy it.

And if the real Arraine DuBois lived? What would I do then?

I remembered that fallen angel face of hers, I remembered her kindness to me, I remembered her love of books, so like my own.

I remembered her sadness.

If the creature that had mimicked her form and voice had murdered Arraine DuBois, then I would do my best to kill it before it killed me.

If Arraine Dubois still lived, I would tell her that I would remain by her side as long as she wished it. For the moment I had seen her face, I had loved her. No. That is a lie. I had loved her long before.

Finally that endless meal was over. I stood up, careful to conceal the knife even though Marta was not in the room. I made my careful way back up the stairs to my bedchamber. The bed was smoothed; my disordered clothing that I had flung on a chair was gone.

I closed the door behind me and put a high-backed chair against it.

If that creature was still alive, I didn't want it loose in the house.

Then I walked over to the bookcase and reached for the books that hid the latch.

I will not pretend that my heart was not racing, my hands not shaking. I was, not to put too fine a point on it, terrified. But I would not allow Arraine DuBois's brave sacrifice go in vain. For that was what it must have been, I knew. Arraine had offered her life to save mine. Somehow she had whisked me back inside my sleeping body and away, while she fought for her life against that evil creature.

I found the latch and the secret door swung open before me.

Clutching the silver knife, I started down the stairway.

* * *

The journey was not as easy as it had been before. The stairs were single slabs of rough stone, slippery with condensate. Torches, magical they must have been, were burning in sconces on the walls; they shed a flickering light that made the shadows menacing. Still, I seized one and proceeded downward.

At the bottom, the carven door stood open. I walked inside the dungeon, holding my torch high above my head; the knife was in my other hand.

There was the iron maiden; the chains still hung from rusty bolts. I walked forward, my eyes trying to be everywhere at once.

In the center of the vast room, just as I remembered it, stood a brazier--tossed over on its side, with cold ashes strewn about it. The chair where my unresisting body had sat was overturned as well.

I looked about me.

No blood. No ravaged bodies. Nothing.

But wait. There, against the wall, crouched a shadowy figure.

I darted forward, knelt down.

Arraine DuBois, her silver mask covering that angelic face, one sleeve torn away to reveal a bloody gash that reached from shoulder to wrist, leaned on the stone wall. Still, silent, eyes closed...

Eyes.

What if it were not Arraine, but the other? What if, when those closed eyes opened, a ruby glare shone through the silver mask?

I looked wildly around for something with which to subdue her. I saw a manacle at the end of a heavy chain, still attached to a stout iron bolt in the wall. I seized it and clamped it tight about her undamaged wrist.

Then I jerked the mask away. A seraph face, serene and untroubled.

I shook Arraine, trying not to disturb her injured arm. Her eyes opened...

Horror stared out at me from their emerald depths.

I drew back as her perfect lips parted and she said, "Erik...I tried to save you, my darling...but she is too strong. Run, run while you can."

Then she blinked and those emerald eyes began to darken, even as her angelic features twisted and mutated. From flawless nose and perfect lips, nightmares bubbled forth.

She, this other, seized my wrist with her unbound hand.

"Erik,"she sneered, spewing spittle on me from her slavering slit of a mouth, "she tried to keep you from me. But she failed, as she has always failed. Now you are mine, as you were destined to be."

I jerked away, scuttling like a rat from her ravening mouth, her grasping, tearing hand. She leaped after me--only to be caught up short by the chain that bound her wrist.

A howl of dismay echoed through the high chamber, bouncing off the walls, rattling the fearful machines of torture and pain.

"No! No, I tell you! This cannot be--you cannot know the secret! You cannot know how to keep me from you. None would dare to tell you..."

I ran from the chamber as though death were at my heels.

* * *

I close my strange story now. It has been five score and eleven years since I first came to the house of Arraine DuBois as payment for my father's debt. I have lived far beyond the normal span of mortals, kept alive and seemingly young by the magics that inhabited that house of doom and delight. But fledgling though I still appear, I feel my years like a massive burden and I know that my time approaches. I leave these notes for any who might follow me, so that they will know of the precious--and perilous--inhabitant in the dungeons of the castle of the wolf in the wood.

Arraine and I have loved each other fiercely, passionately and hopelessly for all these weary years. She, kept alive in torment by the curse that fell upon her as a young woman, has remained chained in the dungeons since that horrible and wonderful night when I first saw the two sides of her nature. Waited on by Germain and Marta--who do not change, and I dare not ask of them why--she no longer needs the silver mask to hide her from my adoring gaze. We have loved each other, as I have said...

But we have not dared to touch.

For my touch, in love and desire, calls up that other Arraine, the ravening beast that would tear me apart with glee. And when my dying body would be lying in its own blood, gasping for a final breath, that horror would leave and Arraine would return, to cradle me in her arms and despise herself for causing my death...as had happened too often before.

So Arraine and I have loved from a distance. A little distance, to be sure, separated us...but the length of an arm. But it might well have been an ocean that coursed between our longing hearts.

Still, we have had our compensations. The old dungeons were transformed into pleasant chambers and all our beloved books surrounded us. We could talk, we could smile, we could banter, we could spend countless hours together...and we have. We have done all that lovers can and could do, from time immemorial.

Save touch.

But now, the magics are dying around us and we know our time is growing close. We can only hope, only believe, that our long purgatory is over and that we will awaken in some better place, where a kiss, a touch, will not destroy us.

We can only hope.

The Girl in the Box

by Janet Miller

During the weekday Janet is a mild-mannered software engineer who writes code and design documents. But at night and on weekends she turns to the creation of offbeat stories about imaginary pasts, presents, and futures, such as her fantasy tale, Lady of the Knife, or her contemporary, A Christmas with Sarah. You can read more about Janet's books at her website at www.janetlynnmiller.com.

Amirilla Asteras gazed at the stars, watching them through the window in the station's outer shell. Cold and lonely to some, but not her. They were her lucky stars, her friends, the only ones she could count on.

Until now.

"Noble Cause to Space Station Blue. Come in Station. Ammi, you there?"

In the dark and deserted communications center, she smiled and rolled away from the window, activating the switch on the single console left lit for her shift. "Station Blue here, Noble Cause. Welcome back, Ganth. How long you going to be with us this time?"

Opening the console viewscreen, she directed it to show the ship's docking, the slip two hundred meters away and outside the view of her window. Built by the Gaians, the Noble Cause was sleek for a freighter, its clean lines a departure from the bulky Outer Colony crafts. With Ganth at the helm the ship eased into its assigned slip as graceful as a dancer, sliding to a stop as the docking locks secured.

From her console came a soft rustle, as if Ganth passed a hand over his hair. For a moment Ammi wished he'd activate the viewer so she could see him. But then he'd want to see her, and that wasn't possible, he'd see too much. They'd made an agreement early on--no visuals.

They'd been talking for nearly a year through their comm units. Ammi worked the third shift of station time, middle of the space night, a lonely time, but her choice since it restricted her exposure to others.

But then Ganth had come along with his sweet sexy voice and easy-going laugh and penchant for working third shift himself. He and his father were the sole operators of the Noble Cause, a small freighter working the Outer Colonies trade routes. Seeking company, he'd found his way into her comm center for long talks and holograph games.

Found his way into her heart as well.

"We'll be docked for a few days. Dad has some people he's meeting. They haven't arrived so I'll be available for a couple games of astrochess."His voice rose, betraying his enthusiasm.

"Only a couple of games?"she teased. "What else are you planning to do, hang out and dance in the station bar?"

His answer was an ill-humored grunt. "Oh, yeah, like I could get away with that. Until I attach and marry I'm never getting off this crate. You're the only friend I have."

He sounded more disgruntled than usual; she shouldn't have teased him. Attachment was very important to Gaian males; they weren't sexually enabled until it happened and it only occurred when they found a woman they matched.

Ganth was twenty-three but under Gaian law, until he married, he wasn't allowed to mingle with non-Gaians, particularly women, lest he inadvertently attach to someone "unsuitable."

After all, Gaians mated for life.

From what he'd told her, Ganth's father's idea of what was suitable was pretty restrictive. It certainly didn't include a space monkey confined to a transport box. Ammi glanced down at the square metal and plastic cube that covered her from the waist down, allowing her mobility. In her twenty-two years, she'd learned to live with her handicap, the legacy of a pregnant mother exposed to unsafe levels of radiation.

The mining colony she'd been born on had few medical amenities and when she arrived from her mother's womb, legs twisted like construct cables, so the best they could do was keep her alive. Repairing her legs had been beyond hope. Later, the only solution had been the box, a motorized chariot she controlled through connections in her lower back. She'd seen pictures of an old kid's toy, a jack-in-the-box. That's what she resembled.

At least she could thank her lucky stars the rest of her worked properly. She'd even been assured she could have healthy children; assuming anyone ever looked at her that way. She was pretty enough--copper-brown hair she kept spacer short, and eyes an interesting shade of green. But no man had seen beyond the box and no one was ever likely to, with anything other than pity or dismay. Ganth was her friend, but he'd never seen her. If he had she knew he wouldn't flirt with her this way.

He was still talking. "I keep thinking about what we talked about last time. You know if I wore a respirator, I could come visit you. We could even meet in the bar... we wouldn't have to dance."

Surprise filled her; Ganth hated the respirator. It filtered out the pheromones required for attachment but eliminated all other odors as well. He'd told her the air smelled bland inside the mask. Ganth's dad really should get him back to Gaia so he could find his future wife. Ganth's offer to wear a respirator was a symptom of how ship-bound he was, but the unwelcome idea of him whispering to another woman turned her stomach to ice.

Ruthlessly, she suppressed her reaction. He was her friend, she should be happy he would have someone to love.

"We talked about this. I like not knowing what you look like. After all, if I met you I couldn't imagine you looking like Bret Skylar, could I?"Ammi named the current holovid heartthrob, but the truth be known, seeing Bret never thrilled her the way Ganth's voice did.

"Well, I'd be willing to give up my hopes of you looking like Marilyn Mantra."Ganth countered with Bret's feminine counterpart, a buxom blonde with terrific legs.

Ammi glanced at what passed for her body. Better Marilyn than the real Ammi. She kept her voice light. "No, Ganth. I can't possibly give up my illusions. Stay on your ship and we'll keep the visuals off."

* * *

"Haven't you ever wanted to do more, go places, see things?"They'd finished their game for the night and now Ammi listened to the eagerness in Ganth's voice. "It can't really be enough to sit third shift on a station comm."

"Oh, sure, sometimes. There are lots of things I'd like to see."She thought about it for a moment. "Trees for one, big trees."

"Yeah, big trees, big enough to climb. I'd show you, Ammi. We have great trees for climbing on Gaia."

Climbing trees on Gaia, like that would happen. But they were dreaming here, why spoil it with reality. "I'd like to climb a tree."

Ganth's voice was wistful. "I used to climb to the top of the one outside my bedroom and watch the stars at night. If you were with me, I'd pull you to the top of any tree you liked."

Wouldn't she love to sit in a tree-top with Ganth. Or anywhere with Ganth for that matter.

"Ammi, the communication center has a window. Go look outside."

Hitting the switch to open the shutters, she took in the view full of stars. "How do you know about the window?"

"I looked it up on the station schematics."

"Those are classified, aren't they?"

He laughed. "Gaians are born knowing how to break into computer systems, Ammi. But that's not important right now. Look at how so many stars are bunched together, but some are so alone. I've always felt like that, a single star in the universe."

She stared at the individual points of light. "I know what you mean."

"You don't have anyone, do you? Family? I mean, you never talk about them."

"No. My mom died a long time ago. My dad...she didn't say much about him."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"You didn't."She rested one elbow on the console, one hand cradling her chin. "I guess you could say I'm a lone star, too."

"We don't have to be, Ammi. Two stars alone, maybe we should pair up, become twins."

Her heartbeat picked up; this dreaming stuff was getting out of hand. "Stars don't pick their partners, Ganth. And you won't always be alone; your mate waits for you. Someday you'll meet her."

She heard his deep sigh. "I went to two marriage meets last year, met over two hundred women. Not one did more than raise one of my eyebrows, much less...well, anything else. I just wasn't interested. My dad might not like it, but I don't think I'm going to find my wife on Gaia."

Ammi's heart pounded harder. What he was implying was impossible. She'd read up on Gaia's history. A long time ago the Gaians had suffered a major loss, a third of their young women killed by war, leaving thousands of men without wives. They'd solved the problem by importing carefully selected Earth women, chosen to meet the Gaians' strict ideas of what made a suitable woman for mating.

A girl in a box would not have been acceptable either then or now. "I don't think you should be talking to me like this. You don't know enough about me."

"Believe me, Ammi, I know everything I need to know. Let me come over there, and I'll prove it to you."

At the certainty in his voice, her heart felt like it would break. "Ganth, it's getting late. I think I better sign off for a while."

* * *

"It's your move, Ganth."The astrochess game was in full swing and for once Ammi was winning. She grinned in anticipation.

"Fighter Five to Mothership Seven."His disembodied voice sounded more disconnected than usual, a slight rasping sound in the background.

Frowning, Ammi watched the tiny ships change positions on the holographic board. "What is this, Ganth? That's a terrible move. At this rate I'll have your planet blockaded in five turns. Aren't you paying attention?"

A startled tone came into his voice. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Couldn't see the board for a moment."

There was no reason he couldn't see the board. Her monitor showed their holographic images in perfect sync with each other, hers in the station comm center, his on the bridge of his ship. The only way he could not see the board--would be if he wasn't on his ship!

All of a sudden the rasping sound took on special significance. "You aren't wearing a respirator, are you?"

The breathing sound got louder and his voice tinnier than ever. "Respirator? Why would I be wearing a respirator?"His outright lie rang in her ears.

"Ganth! Where are you?"

"Just a few more minutes, Ammi and you'll see for yourself."He sounded smug.

Ganth was coming! After all the warnings she'd given, he'd broken out of his ship and was on his way to the station's comm center. If he saw her, he wouldn't have anything to do with her anymore. Panicked, Ammi stared around the room. There was only one exit, no back way out.

The only possibility was to hide in the center. Behind the dark consoles lay a narrow storage cabinet. It was small, but even with the box she'd fit, plus she could lock it from the inside. Moving as fast as the box allowed her, Ammi glided to the cabinet, shoved the contents about to make room and slid inside. She finished setting the lock just as she heard the door to the corridor slide open.

"Ammi?"The respirator mask muffled Ganth's voice; the hissing rasp of the filters even more obvious as he moved around the room. The cabinet door jiggled and Ammi blessed her stars for the lock. "Are you hiding from me?"His voice was soft, hurt.

"Ganth!"A man's voice came over the station's comm unit, commanding, imperious. "Where are you? Did you leave the ship?"Whoever the man was, he sounded angry.

Resignation colored Ganth's voice. "Yeah, Dad. I left the ship. I wanted to visit a friend. I'm wearing my respirator."A touch of defiance was in that last sentence.

"That isn't fool-proof! Say good-bye and get back here!"

"Dad, I'm a grown man--you can't tell me what to do."He sighed deeply. "Besides, I can't find her."

"HER?"Ganth's dad broadcasted fury over the comm. Ammi shuddered in her cabinet.

"Yeah, Dad, her. Female. I have a female friend. Her name is Ammi..."

"Who she is isn't important. You get back here now before I come..."

There was a click and the tirade from the ship cut out. A moment of silence reigned then she heard Ganth's quiet voice. "I guess you meant it when you said you didn't want to meet me in person. I'm sure you can hear me, so I'll just say that I'm sorry I tried to force it."The silence stretched longer. "I also want you to know that talking with you has been the best thing that ever happened to me. Ammi, you're my friend, now and always. I wish it could be more..."His voice trailed off, wistful. "But wishes don't always come true, do they?"

The door to the corridor swished open and closed and the rasp of the respirator ended. When she was certain he was gone, Ammi unlocked the cabinet and wheeled into the room. On her console sat a narrow bracelet, made of some kind of lightweight metal polymer. A pair of twin stars engraved into the band was the only decoration. It reminded her of what Ganth had told her, about how he'd always felt like a lone star until he'd met her. No, wishes didn't always come true. Tears flooded her eyes as she fastened the simple band around her wrist.

* * *

"Hey, Ammi. You know the folks on the Noble Cause, don't you?"Jacky, the second shift comm officer, stared at his terminal, the numbers flooding across the screen having meaning for him if no one else.

"Yes, that's the Gaian ship. What about it?"

"You wouldn't know which Gaians are on board, would you?"

"It's a father and son. I talk to the son sometimes."Not in the last couple of days. The Noble Cause had left dock the day after Ganth had tried to visit her and hadn't returned. She still wore the bracelet he'd left.

Jacky tore his gaze from the screen. "That's not just any Gaian father and son. The dad is General Garran Doranth himself, former leader of the Gaians. His battle plans had allowed the Gaians to win their war of independence from Earth. He stepped down from active duty a few years ago, but has maintained a healthy interest in interplanetary politics."Jacky returned to his screen. "Trouble is, someone else is taking a unhealthy interest in his activities. I really admire the man, I'm not partial to seeing him hurt."

Ammi wheeled over to his screen. "What are you seeing?"

He pointed to a few of the numbers. "Here, and here. Someone has been downloading information about when and where the Noble Cause has docked at Station Blue. If I had to make a guess, I'd say someone intends to have a surprise party for them when they get back."

"An ambush?"Ammi gnawed on her lower lip. "By who? How can we warn them?"

"Who would have it in for General Garran? Oh, just about anyone from the military, Earthforce. Warning them would be your job. They wouldn't listen to someone like me, but you know them, you could tell them something was up."Jacky looked at the numbers again. "They are due back today. You're off duty, you could meet their ship as soon as they dock."

Go to their ship? She'd have to admit who she was, and Ganth would know about her. Then again, maybe not. Ganth's father would never let her on board with an unattached male present. He'd likely have his son stay in his quarters and she wouldn't have to see Ganth.

At 1600 hours she waited anxiously outside the docking slip assigned to the Noble Cause. She'd had Jacky call them, tell them about a surprise inspection of the bridge and heard the general growl his acceptance. When the door to the ship opened, she stared in surprise at the big man filling the doorway. In his mid-fifties, General Garran was impressive, broad shouldered, his dark hair shot through with gray, particularly around the temples.

When he spoke she heard the same deep gravelly voice that had yelled at his son that night. "Comm said that there was an inspection due?"He eyed her rolling box. "You're the inspector?"

She summoned her flagging courage and held up her e-tab. "Yes sir. This needs to be done on the bridge."

He didn't look like he believed her, but he stepped aside and allowed her to wheel into the ship. Fortunately there were no ladders between the bridge and the entryway and as she predicted, Ganth was nowhere to be seen. Ammi glanced around the bridge of the Noble Cause, at the clean lines and uncluttered consoles. It looked more like a military vessel than a freighter. She rested one hand on the comm unit chair, restraining herself from stroking the fabric covering. This was where Ganth sat when he talked to her.

The general turned and sealed the entry behind them, then cut the power to the comm units. Crossing his arms, he glared down at her. "Very well, that's as secure as I can make us. What do you have to tell me?"

In answer she handed him the e-tab. It held the information that Jacky had uncovered. The general looked though it, noting the dates and individuals who'd been spying on him. A fierce dark-blue stare pierced her. "You believe this information?"

"I believe Jacky. He's got no reason to lie to you or me. He's rather an admirer of yours, General Garran."

A little of the fierceness faded away and a smile hovered around his lips. "Just Garran, please. It's good to know I have a few fans. Who are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Amirilla Asteras. I've got third comm watch on the station."

"Ammi?"His voice had turned sharp again and his eyes raked over her, lingering on the box that replaced her feet. "You wouldn't by any chance know my son?"

His disapproving stare was just what she'd hoped to avoid. A sob threatened to expose itself. "Yes sir, I know your son. No, he doesn't know about...this."She pointed to the box. "I don't intend to tell him, either. There's no reason for it; we're friends, he and I, nothing more."

Agitated, she grabbed the e-tab from Garran's hand and her cuff pulled back from her wrist to reveal her bracelet. Garran's eyes widened. He snatched her hand, pulling her wrist closer. Silently he stared at the engraving. "And you got this where?"

For a moment it was hard to find her voice. "Ganth left it, the night he tried to see me."

He dropped her hand like it had burned him. "You don't know what that is, do you?"He pulled up his own sleeve, revealing a similar band, but decorated with a small bird with long legs. "It's a stork, the emblem my wife chose. She wears mine, with a crescent moon. They're marriage bands."

He sat down, heavily. "You are not just my son's friend, Ammi. Surely you can see that."

Stunned, she fingered the narrow bracelet. "All we've done is talk. We haven't even seen each other. He was wearing a respirator..."

"Which he'd probably intended to remove as soon as he found you so he could attach to you and force a marriage. He even had a band made."Garran's laugh was bitter. "I know my son. It's been months since he last asked about going home for the next marriage meet. Instead, he kept a close watch on when we'd be putting into the station... it wasn't hard for me to guess he was attracted to someone here. Clearly someone I wouldn't be happy about."Again he stared at her box.

That was enough; Ammi reassembled her tattered pride. "I might not be what you want, General Garran. I might not even be what your son wants given that he doesn't know about my condition. But there's a lot more to me than a pair of misshapen legs. I came here to warn you--someone is after you and they may very well strike anytime now. As for this..."She removed the band from her wrist and held it briefly before handing it to him. "Tell your son that space monkeys don't like to be forced into anything."

She glanced over her shoulder once before wheeling back to the station. It was worth it to see the odd look on the general's face. The man almost looked impressed.

* * *

"Noble Cause to Station Blue. Ammi, are you there?"She rested her head on her hand and ignored the call. "Ammi, it's Ganth. Please talk to me."

Now he was saying please. He didn't say please when he was trying to force a wedding with her. No sir, not a "please"then. How could he leave her that bracelet and make her think it was just a present, not a marriage proposal? Miserably, she rubbed the place where the band had rested. She missed it.

"All right Ammi, if you won't talk to me, then I'll just have to talk to you and hope you listen. First, I'm sorry about not being up front about the visit the other night. I really wanted to see you and you kept putting me off, so I decided to surprise you. And, yes, I had a marriage band with me, but I wasn't going to force you to marry me. I couldn't even if I wanted to, you'd have to agree. I just wanted to be prepared. I thought you might be happy about it. I mean, I love you Ammi, and I think you love me. Why shouldn't I want to attach to you? Why shouldn't I want to marry the woman I love?"

His dad must not have told him. She flipped on the switch. "I told you before, Ganth, you don't know enough about me. There is something I need to tell you..."

"Ammi! Sweet Gaia, you're there. Look, I know we need to talk. I want to do it face to face. Please, I promise I'll keep the respirator on, let me come over."

Let him see for himself what she really looked like. It probably was the only way. But to watch his face as he learned the truth... Would he be like his dad, dismiss her as unworthy? Would he pity her, be angry, or just run as fast as he could? Whatever it was, best to get it over with. She opened her mouth to invite him.

A loud squeal from the proximity alarm stopped her.

"What was that?"Ganth asked as she opened the console viewscreen and pointed the imager to the space outside the station. Something was coming in, fast, on a collision course.

She opened a cross-station hailing, the alarms blaring, probably dragging everyone from whatever cozy hole he or she had retired to. She answered the frantic queries as they poured in.

"We have an incoming tanker pod, a runaway, collision in two minutes, location..."she did the math, figured out the trajectory. Stared at the point of impact, redid the calculations. The pod wasn't aimed at the station, it was directed at the Noble Cause!

Ammi flung herself at the still open line. "Ganth, your ship is the target! Break docking locks and get out of here. You have one minute, forty-five seconds to clear."

He didn't falter. She heard his frantic muttering as he prepared for emergency undocking. Thirty seconds past, then forty-five. Less than one minute left. With less than thirty seconds to spare she heard the Noble Cause's engines go online and a gentle tug on the station as the ship broke the locks.

The station's normal roll took a new direction from the momentum of the ship blasting free. The turn caused a change to Ammi's calculations and she desperately tried to catch up, feeding the information to the station at large while doing so. "Station, new impact coordinates, section zero, three, seven..."

Abruptly her voice faded. Ammi raised her head and stared at the room around her for the last two seconds before the incoming pod hit the station outer hull a mere twenty meters away.

* * *

It was dark. No lights--not even emergency backups. Cold. Hard to breathe, too. Life support must be out. Her head ached and something warm trickled down the back of her neck.

She hurt. Well, that was a positive; if she hurt she wasn't dead. With a hull breach she shouldn't be alive. The hull must not have ruptured, or if it did, the self-sealing walls had saved her. Ammi tried to lift her head. She was lying on her side on the floor. Reaching down, she felt her bare legs. She'd been thrown from the box.

Of course, with debris scattered everywhere, there was no way she'd be able to use her wheels anyway. Reaching down her back, she felt for the leads that connected her lower spine to the control system. They'd been torn out and the area felt tender. Thick liquid covered her fingers when she brought them up to her nose. A metallic smell, blood. She would need repairs.

Assuming she lived. She didn't seem too injured, but to live she needed air, the one thing in fairly short supply.

Lights flickered on and a small buzz came from her communications console. The speaker sprang to life with a loud squawk. "...I'm showing the power on, but nothing else. There may be no atmosphere in there."It was Captain Thompson, station commander.

"There has to be, otherwise... I just can't accept that she's dead!"

Ganth's voice! What was he doing here, wasn't he on his ship? Even through his respirator his sweet voice enthralled her and dying was no longer a reasonable option.

"We can't open the safety doors until we know the hull is intact. If she's alive, she can tell us that."

"But with her legs, maybe she can't reach the comm,"Ganth argued. "Listen, I didn't space walk across half a kilometer to wait outside a door."

Legs? Ganth knew about her legs--and still wanted to see her? Suddenly it became important to get off the floor, get to the switch. Hoisting herself onto her arms, Ammi dragged herself to the console, thanking her lucky stars she'd spent time in the station gym building her muscles. She pulled herself up to a sitting position then reached up to hit the open switch. She took a deep breath. "Comm reporting. Amirilla here."

"Ammi!"Ganth's voice was jubilant. "Blessed Gaia, you're alive."

Thompson's voice interrupted. "Report, Asteras. What's the status in there?"

Another breath, shallower; there wasn't much air left. "Hull seems intact, life support minimal. It's cold and hard to breathe."The exertion was too much. Faint, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

Ganth voice broke in. "Hear that? Get the door open."

A low buzz followed and a few minutes later she heard the door slide open. Strong warm arms slid around her and a respirator mask was fit to her mouth and nose. Fresh oxygen tantalized her lungs as she breathed deeply. Ganth's voice was in her ear. "I'll get her to sickbay."The warm arms hoisted and carried her from the room.

She breathed in, deeply. A rich musky odor enveloped her nose, tingling. "I thought you said the air smelled funny in one of these. It smells wonderful."

"What you smell is me, Ammi. You're wearing my respirator."Ganth stuck his face into her hair, breathed deeply. "You smell good, too."

Abruptly, his breathing became uneven and he leaned against the wall of the corridor. Deep in his chest she heard his heart pound erratically. Over the mask she stared into his face, the intense concentration in his eyes, mouth.

"Ganth, what is it?"

He took several deep breaths, let out a ragged laugh. "Nothing. And everything."He lifted her higher and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before resuming his way to the sickbay. "It's only that I've attached to you."

Sudden exhaustion overtook her. Warm, safe, oxygen to spare, she leaned into his comforting embrace, closed her eyes and drifted off into a pleasant haze.

* * *

She awoke in a bed, the gentle sound of medical instruments pinging gaily around her. Peeking, she saw the austere white walls and clean lines of the sickbay. Opening her eyes further she saw Ganth on the stool near the bed, eyes half closed. Yes, she could see him as Garran's son. He had the same dark blue eyes and dark hair, cut medium length, but not as grim a face as his father. Handsome, of course. When she moved, his eyes flew open. He pulled closer to her, his hand on her forehead, fluid worry in his gaze.

"Ammi, how are you?"

"I'll be okay."She could breathe, move. Her back hurt, not surprisingly, but not too much. Sudden concern overtook her. "You aren't wearing a respirator. What about..."

His laugh was indulgent. "Not to worry, I can only attach once and that's already happened. To you, Ammi, just as I expected. I knew you were the one from the beginning."

His words thrilled her. "But Ganth, my legs."

"You told my father that there was more to you than your legs, and that's true beyond measure. I told him the same thing. Dad will accept that, and if he doesn't, Mom will convince him."He chuckled. "She is going to love you."

She remembered what he'd said about her not reaching the console. "You knew, before?"

A sheepish grin overtook his face. "I've known a long time, Ammi. Months ago I broke into the station's computer system and downloaded your records. I wanted to know more about you."

"And it doesn't matter?"

"Matter, no. Mind you, Gaian medicine is far beyond what they practice around here. Artificial limbs, bone reformation. My mom is a doctor, she's bound to have some ideas. I can't promise that you'll walk, but I suspect we can do better than a mechanical chair for you.

"But no matter what, I said I loved you and I always will. How can the woman I love be anything less than perfect to me?"He pulled the twin star bracelet from his pocket. "Ammi, a Gaian man isn't complete until he finds his mate. Please, accept this, be my wife."

He'd known the truth all along and still loved her, accepted her as she was. Joy enveloped her and she felt her lucky stars smile. She fastened the band around her wrist.

"I love you too, Ganth. I guess I'll need to make one of these for you. What would you think of a jack-in-the-box as the symbol?"

Leaning forward, his lips met hers in their first real kiss. All the stars in the galaxy whirled and danced. When they parted he touched her cheek, stroking it with the back of his hand. "You could make it a girl-in-the-box, instead. Whatever you pick, I'll be proud to wear it."

Knight Moves

by CB Scott

CB Scott is the writing team of Cynthia Klimback and Beth Ciotta. Their current releases include Scandalous Spirits (4 stars from RT Magazine!) and Knight of My Dreams (4 stars from RT Magazine!). For news on upcoming releases visit their website at www.cbscottbooks.com.

Janie Lane loved Kenrick Bonel.

She settled into the faded plush seat--front row and center--of the old Midtown Theater for her sixth midnight viewing of Knight Moves. She swiped the rain from her short locks and kicked off her soggy shoes. Being the only one in the theatre gave her a creepy, exhilarated feeling. The lights darkened and she shivered. She would be alone with him. She'd be absorbed into the amorphous sponge of color and sound, of history and heroism. She would become Catherine Cross--Kenrick's beautiful love interest whose black river of waist-length hair did not come from extensions.

Light sliced into the theater as someone entered. Ruffled at the distraction, she turned in her seat. She watched the red-carpeted aisle in the glow of dancing soda cups and candy bars. First black boots appeared. Then long, denim-clad legs and lean hips. A strong hand cradling a bucket of popcorn. A hard jaw and playful dark eyes. The man tossed a kernel into his mouth then smiled at her. Her jaw dropped as he sat off to the left, a few rows behind. He was gorgeous--she'd have to be blind not to notice--and he was flirting. Wasn't he?

He winked. Janie spun forward in her seat. Her cheeks burned. Oh-ma-god. Was he joking? Was the light to her back playing tricks on his eyes?

She fought the urge to do a double take. What if he took it as a sign of encouragement? What if he moved forward, sat beside her?

Like that was going to happen. Men like him didn't flirt with women like her. He must be throwing her a bone. Pity charity for the woman sitting alone in a dark theater on a Saturday night.

Get a grip, Lane. He's alone, too.

Yeah, probably taking a breather between babes.

She slumped in her seat and crunched her popcorn in annoyance as the endless, bass- thumping previews blasted from the speakers. Then, a black screen. A deep, imperious voice. "In a legendary time. In a legendary battle of good versus evil, only one man could save a land from destruction. Only one man could save the woman who would be queen."

"Kenrick Bonel."She sighed, Popcorn man forgotten.

Janie sat straighter as clashing swords screeched through the darkness. The camera raced through the lush ancient forest, narrowly missing tree after tree until...Kenrick Bonel. He dodged his opponent's lunge, arcing so fast and graceful that the enemy's venomous eyes bulged in shock at the sword jammed against his throat.

"You will tell me who killed Catherine!"he demanded in that to-die-for English accent.

Janie nodded her head as the bad guy trembled. "Catherine lives."

The orchestrated music rose with Janie's heart. The scene switched to night outside Dunrake Castle, the stronghold of Catherine's bastard sister, Morgan. Janie felt a tug at her elbow. She turned and found a dark shadow snatching her purse.

Hey!"She latched onto her bag with a death grip. The shadow tugged harder, pulling Janie out of her seat toward the screen.

Tribal drums and an ominous penny whistle accompanied the pathetic tug of war.

She should have known. The handsome man wasn't flirting with her. He was a thief! He'd been mocking her!

He gave a determined yank. Janie flew forward and clocked her head against the wall. The music died. As she crumpled to the floor, she heard the crack of knuckles against flesh.

Everything turned black.

* * *

"God's blood, m'lady. What have they done to you?"

The voice was familiar. The sensation of a man fondling her choppy locks was not. She was dreaming. An incredible, vivid dream. If she opened her eyes she'd see the chiseled face that melted her heart and limbs. Or, horror of horrors, she'd wake up.

She played dead.

His hands moved over her body, probing for injuries.

Janie shivered when his fingers connected with bare skin.

"You are freezing! They took your hair and your slippers."He cursed. "At least you are clothed. Albeit as a man."

She sneezed. The room was freezing. And it smelled. Like damp earth. Rot. Since when did dreams stink? She crinkled her nose and cracked open one eyelid. Dark. Dark as the midnight theater when the movie had begun. She opened both eyes. Her senses tingled. Was she awake in the dream? Or awake for real? Her eyes adjusted to the din. Stone walls. Dirt floor. She had to be dreaming. She was in the dungeon. The part where Kenrick finds Catherine. Just before their headlong race through the bowels of Morgan's castle. She tensed, knowing what lay ahead.

Relax. Enjoy. You can wake yourself up before the scary part.

Right.

Kenrick pulled her to her feet and held her against his hard body. His arms squeezed her tight. She could barely breathe, but she sagged against him all the same. She didn't remember the last time she was held by a man. Wrong. It was two years, three months, and sixty-five days. Or something like that.

Still. It had never felt like this. Arms so strong. Protective. Full of love. For her.

And just like that, she turned as cold as the stones. It was hard to savor his affection when he thought she was someone else. She knew all about "someone else."There was always "someone else."

"I'm not Catherine."Had she said that aloud? She blushed. Her voice sounded small, even in the dark quiet. His presence overpowered her.

He tugged her out of the cell and into the torchlight. "Indeed you are not."His emerald eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

She winced at his sharp tone. "I...I don't know."In the movie Catherine had been here. In place of Janie. What had she done? Why hadn't she pretended a little longer? This was a dream. A lucid dream. She could have been Catherine. Catherine with lopped off hair, but still the love of Kenrick's life. Instead she'd felt compelled to douse a hot dream with a bucket of reality. A perfectly good fantasy shot to hell. Maybe that was part of her dating problem.

Now what?

He backed her up against a wall. For the first time she became truly nervous. The frigid damp stones made her bones ache. Everything looked, smelled, felt so real.

"I was told I would find Catherine imprisoned here at Dunrake. In this cell."

"I'm sorry--"

"You know naught of her whereabouts?"

"No."

"Then you are of no use to me."He nudged her back into the cell.

"Wait! You can't leave me here!"She felt the walls close in on her. Reality or illusion, she refused to experience this nightmare alone.

He eyed her. Hard. "What did you do?"

She knew if she said, "I don't know,"he'd leave her. He needed to find Catherine. He didn't have time to play at rescuing criminals and liars. "I, uh, killed a rabbit in the king's forest. I was starving."She'd read that in a romance novel. She'd learned a lot about how to survive-- especially with men--in those beloved books. Too bad she'd never employed her knowledge until now.

He looked her up and down. Sighed. "You are a bony one."

First her hair, now her body. She knew she was nothing great to look at, but no man had ever said it directly to her face. That's where the "someone else"came in.

"Very well. But keep quiet or I will kill you myself."

He turned his back and stalked down the tunnel. She kept close. She felt the heat rolling off of him. She knew what it had taken for him to sneak undetected into the dungeon. She'd seen it herself five times. As well as the perilous escape.

This time was different. This time he had her in tow instead of Catherine. She'd already altered the scene. By doing so had she altered the rest of the movie? Their lives? Their destinies?

Her heart hammered as she followed Kenrick Bonel through the din. They neared an intersecting corridor. The corridor where Kenrick and Catherine plowed into a guard. Catherine had distracted the seven-foot ogre with her staggering beauty, giving Kenrick the advantage. Janie doubted she could distract the guard if she danced a naked jig. She grabbed Kenrick's arm. He looked ready to snarl at her but she titled her chin toward the corridor. The guard walked past, disappearing up a stairwell.

Kenrick growled through clenched teeth, "Are you a witch? Or a decoy for Morgan!"He grabbed her. Shook her.

Panic. "A witch."

"What?"

It seemed the lesser of the two evils. Until he dropped her arm and backed away.

"A good witch,"she said. "I can help you find Catherine."

"Before you said you didn't know where she was. If this is a trick--"

"I know. You'll kill me yourself."She was scared, cold. Kenrick's disdain was a bitter disappointment. Though why she was surprised she didn't know. She wasn't royalty. She wasn't beautiful.

She wasn't Catherine.

She dragged her hand through her cropped hair and sighed. "You're going to have to trust me."

He raised a suspicious brow. "Your accent and clothing are foreign. I found you in a dungeon. Why should I trust you?"

"I'm all you've got."

"What is your name?"

"Janie Lane."

"Odd name for a woman."He leaned closer, eyes narrowed. "You act as though you know me, yet I am certain we have never met."

Only in the dark. "As a witch, I'm very intuitive."

He thought a moment. Sighed. "Very well."He glanced toward the steep winding staircase from whence he'd come. Voices echoed above. "We must find another way. What do you propose, Witch?"

* * *

Janie wished she'd never taken off her shoes. Damp dirt squished between her toes as they carried a dwindling torch through gloomy tunnels. It made her think of entrails. No sooner did that thought cross her mind when they stumbled into the medieval version of The Showcase Showdown. Two tunnels. Each entry lined with a parade of welcoming human skulls, their jaws locked open in silent screams.

She jumped, even though she'd seen it five times. Amazing how real everything felt. Including the frigid tongues of air lapping from both tunnels.

He turned to her, eyebrow cocked in a Kenrick Bonel arrogance that had seemed much more charming on screen. "Which way?"

In the movie, Catherine had told him to go right. Janie recalled a certain petulant, one-eyed troll that didn't take kindly to trespassing. In fact, the nasty critter had nearly clawed out Kenrick's eye. Worse, it drooled. But which was scarier? The known or the unknown? "I just came to see a movie,"she mumbled.

"What did you say?"

"Right. Go right."Yuck. She hated one-eyed trolls. Probably smelled bad too.

She closed her eyes as they shimmied across the frayed rope bridge. The frigid air chilled her sweat-soaked skin as it whipped up from the black, bottomless gorge.

"Open your eyes, woman. We have problems enough without you pitching over the side."

She opened her eyes but didn't look down. It occurred to her that she could actually die. If she fell down into that gorge, would she wake up before she hit bottom? She concentrated only on the rope until they reached the cliff on the other side.

She sagged as her feet touched dirt, but relief was brief. Next came the troll, then the poison-tipped spikes.

What if she did die? What if this wasn't a dream? What if Kenrick never found Catherine? Then Morgan would become queen. The curse would come true and Black Night would seize the kingdom, squeezing any light and happiness from its good people. They must find Catherine.

But how?

She must think of something by the end of the spike pit.

Quick and silent, they moved through more entrails until she heard the bubbling rush of the underground stream. "Up ahead,"she whispered, trying to swallow the fear in her throat. "A one-eyed troll."

He moved in front of her and lead the way. "Stay close."

She squinted her eyes, waiting for the ugly thing to jump out. Each step a test of raw nerve. Her body tense as a high wire.

With a jaguarlike roar, the munchkin-sized beast leapt from the darkness onto Kenrick's shoulders. Kenrick jerked his arm. In a flash, he pulled his bloody blade from the bloated, bristly body. He shrugged off the beast and it rolled like a giant coconut into the gurgling stream.

Bile rose in Janie's throat. Relief or disgust, she didn't know, but she was going to throw up.

Kenrick watched her in the flickering light as he wiped the blade clean on his tunic. "A witch with a weak stomach."

"A knight with a jaundiced eye."Funny how he was so gallant with the beautiful Catherine and so coarse with her. She swallowed her revulsion and challenged him with an icy glare.

He said nothing, but she felt his consideration. His dark eyes stared into hers before tracing her face, then her body.

Her cheeks burned and she lowered her gaze. He turned away. Damn him.

They moved on and came upon another choice of tunnels. "Right,"she said. "Poison- tipped spikes. The triggers are beneath the dirt."

She was amazed at how matter-of-fact her tone had become. Like an amusement park guide. On the right we have poison-tipped spikes. Watch your step. At the end is a refreshment cart. Exact change only. Shock. She was probably in shock. She was entitled. She was Janie Lane, a bookkeeper with a green thumb. A girl who hid beneath the covers with her cordless phone when she heard noises at night. She wasn't up for this.

Yet this danger felt all too real. It seemed she had no choice. Fight or die.

What's worse, one more booby-trapped tunnel and Kenrick would expect her to deliver Catherine. Great. What then?

The tunnel curved. "Follow me,"she said, lingering indignation and the threat of real injury making her bold. She had watched Kenrick and Catherine traverse the deadly maze five times. They had managed, but not before a wooden spike stabbed him in the calf. She knew the steps, the angles of the spikes. It was up to her to lead him through. Up to her to stay alive until this nightmare ended.

So much for wanting adventure. She wanted to go home. Wake up. Whatever. She wanted to see the screen in front of her. Kenrick charging across the glen on his black steed. Catherine--her hair flying in the wind--waiting on the other side, arms outstretched. The magenta sunrise behind them. Waving green grass between. A magical ending. Then the credits. She always jumped up then, clinging to the fantasy. Carrying it home, clutched to her heart, and tucking it into bed with herself.

Now, her heart in her throat, she looked up at Kenrick. The torchlight flickered, nearly dead, but he saw her apprehension and moved to step in front of her. "I will go first."

"No! I know the way."Did she just yell at him? No matter that the fantasy man she'd paid money to spend time with was turning out to be less than her ideal. She didn't want to see him hurt. "I have...a vision."

Before he could argue, she stepped forward. Gulped. Nothing. She focused on the movie in her mind. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right. She followed the zigzag from her memory. Her blood ceased to flow. Her toes waited to be stabbed. Kenrick loomed on her heels. It felt like hours--though she knew it was merely a minute--when they stumbled out of the mouth of the tunnel. Into the fresh, summer air.

She looked up to see a giant crimson moon. Draped around it, more stars than she'd ever seen in her life. They looked ready to rain a torrent from the sky. In that moment she felt as though she could fly. In that moment she forgot her disillusionment with her ideal man.

She jumped into Kenrick's arms and kissed his cheek. "I did it! I did it!"

He didn't smile but he did hold her against him. For a second. Then he set her down. "Catherine. What of Catherine?"

She crashed back to Earth. Her wings clipped. She didn't have an answer--

Wings. Wings. "The Locust Fairy."The pixie with the giant, black eyes that saw all. She had appeared to Catherine near the climax of the movie. I am with you always, she'd said. "I need to speak with the Locust Fairy."

"She dwells in the heart of the forest. A half night's journey. You are in no condition."

Janie bristled. If not for her he'd have claw marks across his cheek and blood gushing from his leg. She didn't expect gratitude but a little respect might be nice. It wasn't every day she lead an escape from a booby-trapped dungeon. "Morgan will take the crown come morning if we do not find Catherine."Chin high, she spun on her bare heels and stalked into the woods.

Her feet hurt. Her head throbbed. Her pride stung worst of all. A girl could only take so much rejection. She blinked back angry tears as she limped forward.

With a curse, Kenrick strode to her and swept her into his arms.

"Put me down."She cringed at the hitch in her voice.

He ignored her and plowed on toward the foothills of Grimyth Mountain.

She tensed. Evil lurked on that mountain. "You're going the wrong way, Kenrick. The Locust Fairy is--"

"Shut up, Janie."

Janie. He called her Janie. Not witch. Not woman. Never had her ordinary name sounded so ... special. She squeezed her eyes shut, swiped away unwelcome tears. She was tired. Tired of "dinner for one,"of "one ticket please."Tired of being alone. But as good as it felt in Kenrick's arms, it didn't feel right. He was meant for another. It seemed everyone was meant for another. Her head lulled against his broad shoulder. She sighed. "If only I were more like Catherine."

He said nothing. Merely tightened his hold, quickened his pace.

She prayed he knew what he was doing.

* * *

One-eyed trolls and poison-tipped spikes took a lot out of a girl. She didn't know she had fallen asleep until she opened her eyes and found herself sprawled on a coarse blanket, nose to a sod wall. She rolled over. In the firelight, Kenrick argued with a squat old man.

"Her feet are swollen and bloodied, Sir Bonel, and there is a bump the size of a swan egg on her head. 'Twill be a day, maybe two before--"

"I don't have a day, Patchett. I need to reach Locust Glen before dawn."

"Then leave her with me."

"I cannot."

The old man tugged at his knee-length beard, shook his snow-white head. "You will have to do better than that."

Kenrick crouched down to the dwarf's level, glared hard into his sharp, gray eyes. "She holds fate in her hands."

"I will get my healing balms."

Kenrick's gaze flicked to Janie. "You are awake."

She felt sick. She wasn't sure if it was the pungent fumes wafting from the old man's cast iron kettle or the fact that she held an entire kingdom's fate in her hands. Or maybe it was the weight of pretending to be someone she wasn't. She'd promised to help him find Catherine. As if she knew where Catherine was. She should tell him the truth. But then he might make good on his threat to kill her, or worse, leave her behind. She pushed herself upright, ignoring her throbbing skull. "We should have kept going. I'm fine."

He arched an eyebrow. "You do not look ... fine."

She didn't want to think about how she looked. Nor did she want to see it and was grateful for the lack of reflective surfaces. She glanced down at her white T-shirt and khaki Capri pants. Stained with mud, troll slime (yes, trolls did smell), and God knew what. Her feet were filthy, her pedicure ruined. She maintained a no-fuss hair and makeup regimen, but her nails ... she spent a fortune on manicures, pedicures, and nail polish in every imaginable shade of pink.

He stooped down beside her. "Nor do you look like a witch."

She quirked a half grin. "You know a lot of witches?"

"A few."He traced a finger down her jaw. "You should do that more often."

She shivered at his touch. "What?"

"Smile. You should smile more often. It is becoming."

Becoming? Her? She glanced at the cast iron pot. "I think the fumes are getting to you."

He chuckled. "You are amusing, Janie Lane. Among other things."

What other things, she wanted to ask, but Patchett waddled in carrying a jar of herbal goo. Kenrick stepped away as the dwarf tended her feet. Aside from an occasional wince, she remained silent. Becoming? Amusing? If she didn't know better she'd think the handsome warrior was flirting. But she knew better. Men like Kenrick Bonel didn't flirt with women like Janie Lane. They didn't give the Janie Lanes of the world a second glance, let alone thought.

You should smile more often.

"What happened to your hair?"This from Patchett. "And your clothes? And your..."He flicked a gnarled hand at her not-so-voluptuous chest. "You look like a boy."

Her cheeks flushed. She ran a self-conscious hand through her choppy shag. The cut had looked feminine and whimsical in the fashion magazine. Then again, the model sported a square jaw, flawless skin, and enough money to inject pout into her lips.

"Your eyesight fails you, old man,"Kenrick said. "For she is plainly a woman. Though unique, I agree."

Her head came up. She would have been flattered had Kenrick not barked the observation. He sounded annoyed. He looked annoyed. At her.

"How much longer?"he asked the wizened healer.

Patchett finished massaging the balm into her soles then patted the tops of her feet. "Better?"

She wiggled her toes. "Amazingly."Even minus the toe polish and crackerjack pedicure. "I don't suppose you have a pair of slippers?"

"Only on my feet. I do have a solution, however."He dipped a cup into his pot then brought it over and handed it to Janie. "Drink this. Nourishment for the journey ahead. Then meet me outside."

She waited until Patchett left then scowled at the cup of steaming broth. It looked and smelled like compost.

"Drink it,"Kenrick said.

"But--"

He shot her a murderous look.

She drank. Her face heated from the steam. Reminded her of when her mother used to pinch her cheeks. You could use some color.

Kenrick ripped strips of cloth from the bottom of his tunic and wrapped them around her feet. "Not pretty, but functional."

Like me, she almost said. Only she sensed he wouldn't laugh. Indeed his sense of humor had completely vanished. Presto-chango. Sir Sourpuss.

She finished her wretched broth then followed Kenrick outside. Incredibly, her feet felt as good as new. Not that she was looking forward to a half night's walk through the forest. She hoped she wasn't wrong about the Locust Fairy. I am with you always. She hoped the fairy knew where Catherine was imprisoned. As importantly, how to set her free.

It's up to me, she thought. If there's going to be a happily-ever-after, it's up to me.

She was ready to bolt into the forest just as Patchett rounded the sod house leading a black steed. He handed Kenrick the reins. "His name is Miracle. 'Tis a miracle he does not have wings, so swift is he. He will get you to where you are going in haste. Without risking fate, or the lady's feet."

Kenrick mounted then lifted Janie and seated her in front of him. Just like in the movies. Were he not so rigid she would have smiled.

"Thank you, Patchett,"he said. Then he spurred the horse into a flat run, across the moonlit field and into the woods. Once within the leafy cover, he slowed Miracle to a trot.

Janie could stand the tension no longer. "You're angry with me."

"Aye."

"Will you tell me why?"

"It angers me further that you do not know."

"I'm not a mind reader."

"Yet you have visions."

She regretted lying, but how else could she explain her knowledge of Dunrake's guard and other lethal roadblocks? (Hi. I live nine hundred years in the future. I know all about you because I've drooled over you and your adventurous, passionate life for five nights in a row. By the way, you're a one-dimensional celluloid image.)

Somehow she didn't think he'd buy it. He'd think she'd lost her mind. Maybe she'd had. Reality had definitely taken a detour.

"Why did you not defend yourself?"

She craned her head around, squinted up at the frowning knight. "What?"

"Patchett. He attacked your appearance. Your mind and wit are sharp. You could have cut him down."

"He caught me off guard."

"Are you often caught off guard?"

She shrugged. "I suppose."

He was silent for a moment. "Do you like your hair?"

"Yes."

"It is becoming. I suspect many men find it so."

She screwed up her face. "You do?"

"Aye."Red moonbeams sliced through ancient oaks, bathing the forest in a warm, magical glow. Kenrick guided Miracle toward the sound of a waterfall. "Janie."

"Aye? I mean, yes?"

"You should smile more often."

* * *

"Morgan knows we're here,"Kenrick said. "Morgan knows everything."

"Her wizard, Myoth."Janie knew that was how Kenrick and Catherine had beaten Morgan in the movie. By tricking a message from Myoth to Morgan. Morgan was flesh and blood, her evil mind the power. Myoth had the magic to deliver her diabolical desires.

"Yes. I'm sure they watch us now in Myoth's crystal ball. It won't be long."

"Before what?"

"Before Myoth strikes."

Janie swallowed hard. Myoth. Just watching his wicked wizardry on screen had made her crouch in her seat. Confined to Grimyth Mountain, the black-hearted exile conquered enemies by casting spells. Spells that conjured his opponent's deepest fear. Invariably the poor sap fled, froze forever in fright, or died fighting. Few conquered their demons. Catherine was one. Her one feat of many that had earned her place as queen.

Knowing she was claustrophobic, Myoth had hurled a rockslide over Catherine, burying her alive in a coffin-sized cave. Paralyzed with panic, she'd nearly given up. But then she'd thought of her father. The kingdom. Kenrick. She'd focused all of her energy on the people in her life who needed her. She'd eased her heart from her throat. Resumed her fight.

Kenrick had dug her out within an hour. Their reunion, a frantic display of relief and affection, was one of Janie's favorite parts of the movie.

Would Janie be up to the challenge? What would Myoth do? What was she afraid of?

Kenrick guided Miracle through a maze of fallen trunks and twisting vines. They followed the path left at the rumbling waterfall. She shivered as she thought of evil lurking over her shoulder.

He rubbed her arms. "You are cold?"

"Nervous. I may be a witch, but I'm not perfect."It was as close to the truth as she could come without stirring his wrath. Without making him feel as though she'd duped him into a wild goose chase.

"I expect only integrity and truth, Janie."

She cringed. When this was over, she'd tell him. When Catherine was safe and fireflies sparked the night around their celebration, then she'd tell him. If she was still here. She could wake at any moment. This could all be a bad dream, induced by too much soda and buttered popcorn. Sadly, it didn't much matter where she was--Kalamazoo or the Kingdom of Glee. Either way, she'd be alone.

A mighty roar rushed toward them from behind. Miracle sidestepped. She and Kenrick turned. A wall of wind plowed through the small clearing. Trees groaned. Vines snapped like whips. Miracle reared. Kenrick fought to tame the horse. Janie lost her grip and fell to the ground.

An unseen force knocked Kenrick from the saddle. Miracle bolted, Kenrick's boot stuck in the stirrup. His body bounced over the ground and into the forest.

For the first time, Janie screamed. "Kenrick! Kenrick!"

The wind stilled. Ominous silence. Dread.

She was alone.

"Myoth."

Next thing she knew she stood in her apartment.

She must've woken! Her fear crumbled into disappointment. She took in her delicate African violets along her windowsill, the kitty cat figurines along her shelf because her allergies wouldn't allow her to have the real pet. Emptiness seeped into the white walls--invisible, silent, toxic. She didn't know which was scarier...facing down Myoth or standing in the midst of her own pathetic life.

In the next instant, she knew the answer. An older version of herself--short, dark hair dulled with gray (definitely not whimsical) and staid knit sweater wrapped about her stooped shoulders--shuffled across the floor in economic bedroom slippers. She straightened at the window and her spine cracked like a set of knuckles. "You're looking perky today,"her older self said to the violets, then she settled into her recliner and circled selections in the TV Guide for the next eight hours of programming.

"Janie!"

She heard Kenrick's shout in the distance.

"Janie!"

She dropped to her knees. Her heart broken. She'd always known. Known she'd be alone. She started to cry. She didn't think she would ever stop.

Then she was yanked hard by the shoulder. Her back hit the ground and air deserted her lungs. She stared up into Kenrick's mottled face.

It had been Myoth. She'd nearly succumbed to the wizard's nefarious trick.

No. Not nearly. She'd had. If not for Kenrick, she would have curled up and never risen again. It made her cry harder.

Kenrick sat beside her, pulled her into his arms. "What happened?"

"Myoth happened."She buried her head in Kenrick's shoulder and sobbed. "You warned me. Still I succumbed. I'm pathetic."

He gently stroked her tear-streaked face. "No, not pathetic. Just ..."

"Weak?"

"I did not say that. Although I did not guess that you would crumble so easily."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you."She shoved back, glared at him through teary eyes. "I'm sorry that I'm not smart enough. Not pretty enough. I'm sorry I'm not Catherine!"

He blinked at her. "Pretty enough?"

"That's why you're attracted to her. Her hair. Her face. Her figure. She's perfect!"

"Do you believe me to be so shallow?"His emerald eyes pierced her soul. "You do. Worse, you believe all men choose their mates solely on appearance."He dragged his hand through his longish hair and sighed. "What did Myoth do? What did you see?"

"I was alone."

"That is all?"

"Isn't that enough? Imagine life without Catherine. Life without love."

"Why would you fear a life without love? Wait, let me guess. Because you are not smart enough. Pretty enough. Indeed what man would want a creature as flawed as you?"

He was mocking her. Why shouldn't he? If anyone was shallow, it was she. Hearing her words flung back at her made her feel petty and contrite. Did she really think so little of herself? When did this happen? How did it happen? Did it even matter? Bottom line, she was alone because she believed she was unworthy of love.

Someone else. Someone else always came along because men got tired of trying to convince her of her worth. A man could walk to the ends of the Earth to prove it, but if she didn't believe deep inside herself...

Her cheeks burned with shame.

Kenrick stood, whistled for Miracle then offered her a hand up. "For what it is worth,"he said when they were eye to eye, "Catherine is beautiful, aye. But 'twas her kind heart that won my own. Were her hair chopped off and her face less fair, I would love her still."

She managed a tremulous smile. "I believe you."

He smiled back. "It is a start."

* * *

The River of Dreams. Janie watched the raging water, speechless from its magic. Crimson moonbeams reflected off the churning surface, transforming the dangerous white rapids into a frothy pink bubble bath. Were it not for several jagged-edged boulders jutting up through the froth, she would have waded in. Tepid or freezing, she could use a bath. She'd spent the last hour sweating over Myoth's next trick, not to mention her shame. So far the wicked wizard of Grimyth had yet to reappear. It only added to her misery. True to any movie or nightmare, the villain would no doubt pop up when least expected.

She rolled back her aching shoulders. "Looks like we need a boat."

"This river is charmed,"Kenrick said. He eased her from the horse to the mossy bank then dismounted. "Legend says those brave enough to dive in earn a chance to live out their dreams. Most end up tossed against the rocks. Their hearts yearn for fortune or revenge, something only for themselves. Only the pure survive the journey upstream to Locust Glen."

She blinked at the dangerous waters. "You're suggesting we swim to Locust Glen?"

"I know of no other way."He cupped her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. "Do you?"

She'd known about the troll. The booby-trapped tunnel. She'd claimed to have visions. He had every right to believe that she could foresee an alternate route, but she couldn't. In the movie, Catherine and Kenrick had only spoken of Locust Glen. They'd had no need to seek the Locust Fairy. Maybe it was a setup for the sequel. In the end though, the Locust Fairy found Catherine. I am with you always. Janie swallowed hard. "I'm not a witch."

Kenrick quirked a sad smile. "I know."

"What? How?"

He chucked her chin then stepped away to sit on a rock. "A witch would not have surrendered so easily to Myoth's trick."

"Oh, right."She let out a weary sigh. "I'm such a fool. You must despise me."

"How can I despise you when there is so much to like?"He pulled off his boots. "As I said before, I expect integrity and truth."

"But I lied--"

"You said you would help me find Catherine."He stood and walked to the river's edge. "Do you truly believe that the Locust Fairy holds the answer?"

"Yes."

"Then all is well."

She stepped beside him, eyed the raging waters and jagged rocks. "You're going to risk it, aren't you?"

He smiled at her then, that smile that melted her heart and limbs. The smile usually reserved for Catherine. "I would risk anything for love."

Janie contemplated the river and its legend. When it came to love, she'd never risked a thing. Was her motivation this moment pure? Why had she set out on this journey? At first, she'd simply wanted to escape the dungeon. But then it had become something more. She'd wanted to help reunite Kenrick and Catherine. To save the good people of the kingdom from everlasting darkness. The curse of the Black Night.

She winced, realizing her own problems paled in comparison to those of an entire kingdom. She'd been living inside a cocoon, wrapped tightly in an endless thread of insecurities. Her entire life smothered by them. Years wasted pushing others to a distance. Years wasted obsessing over her incompetence instead of recognizing the truth. She was a good person who'd been extinguished by her own Black Night.

She refused to allow others to suffer that fate.

She kicked off her shoes, held the light of the land in her mind, and dove in.

"Janie!"

Catherine. That's what she wanted to hear him say. Catherine, light of my life, welcome home. Once reunited, true love would reign and Black Night would become only legend.

Water rushed into her ears, muffling the roar of the rapids crashing against the rocks. The undertow was fierce, yet she felt no fear, only serenity. Her lips curved as she opened her eyes to an underwater world of gliding neon fish and rocking seahorses. Heart bursting with purpose, she surfaced.

Kenrick swam to her. "You are daft,"he said with a grin.

"Kenrick Bonel, I do believe that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."She grinned, then grabbed the back of his head and kissed him on the mouth. She pulled away. "Let's get Catherine."

She wasn't dashed against the rocks nor pulled under. The water became pliable as she swam. It moved with her instead of against her, as though guiding her, carrying her. With each stroke, she grew stronger. Her body felt light, even though her heart, heavy with love for Kenrick, for Catherine, for their people, for herself, could have sunk her like a stone.

Morgan and Myoth were still out there. This time she was ready.

The first hint of lavender dawn streaked the horizon. They swam until the river spilled into a large lagoon, still and calm like a lazy summer pond. They climbed out and fell to their knees in the tall grass.

Smoothing his dripping hair from his face, Kenrick turned to her. "You kissed me."

She grinned but looked down, a little shy but not embarrassed. "Yes. I must've swallowed some of the pink water."She circled her finger next to her ear.

"Not the water, Janie."He cupped her chin and brushed his lips against her cheek.

"My, my, isn't this precious?"

"Morgan,"he whispered.

They both turned. Janie sucked in a breath. Morgan was even more stunning in person. It almost hurt to look at her, but Janie could only stare.

"To think I believed you would be heartbroken over Catherine. Instead you have fallen for this nobody. Kenrick, surely you would not sacrifice the kingdom for this unexceptional creature."

This time Janie saw the trick for what it was. No longer paralyzed by her insecurities, she felt enraged. Enraged that she'd wasted all of these years living her life under illusions. Illusions that had nothing to do with reality or the warm blood pumping through her heart. Her strong, capable, worthwhile heart.

"I'm sick of illusions."She stalked up to Morgan. "I've had enough of you."

Morgan laughed. "What are you going to do about it, Plain Jane?"The name her mother used to call her.

Janie grit her teeth. "You don't have the power anymore, Morgan. I don't believe in you."

Morgan stumbled back from the sheer force of Janie's conviction. She reared back her head, screamed to the lavender sky, "Myoth!"

The weakening stars sputtered out, the winds swirled, whooshing Janie back to her apartment. Only this time she was even older. She'd fallen to the bathroom floor and called and called, but no one heard. No one found her until the rent was late.

Janie held hard and fast to the light, to the love inside of her. "It's too late, Myoth!"

Her apartment faded away. Morgan stood before her, glamorous face twisted with rage. "There's more than one weakness to skin a cat."

"Not this cat."She curled her fist and punched Morgan in her perfect snoot.

Morgan stumbled. Shocked, she fell into the River of Dreams. The calm water swelled into a powerful wave and rushed her away.

Kenrick hugged Janie. Looked down at her in pure affection. "I knew you had it in you."

She smiled. "Inspired by Catherine. Now let's go get her."

They turned and froze. Hovering amidst foxglove and marigolds--the Locust Fairy. Shimmering green body, red pixie hair, diaphanous wings. And large, black eyes. So large and liquid that Janie could see herself in them. If only I were more like Catherine. Her breath caught in her throat. She was exactly like Catherine

"Yes,"the fairy said. "It was in you all along. You just couldn't see it."

Janie blinked at her reflection. She was beautiful. The light and love within her made her glow. Her eyes were alive. She looked away. "What of Kenrick's true love?"

Kenrick stepped forward, his warrior body straining with anticipation.

The fairy pointed behind them. Across the glen. Catherine. "She is with you always."

Kenrick kissed Janie on top of her head. "Be happy, Janie Lane."He picked a handful of wildflowers and bolted across the glen into the majestic sunrise. Toward his love. His life.

She felt ready to burst. "A happy ending. I love that."

"You helped make it possible."

"But it's only a dream, right? I'll wake up in my old life."

"That is up to you, Janie Lane."

She nodded. "It always has been."

"We are with you always,"the fairy said. Then everything went black.

* * *

"God's blood, m'lady. What have they done to you?"

Kenrick.

Janie felt gentle fingers in her choppy locks, checking for injuries. She shivered when his fingers connected with the back of her neck. Her eyes flickered open. Once again it was dark, but this time Kenrick was on the screen, his hands on Catherine. Not Janie.

"Thank goodness. You're awake."

Whose hands were on her? She looked away from the screen to the man holding her. "Thief!"She scrambled out of his hold then rushed him with a tackle. Already on his knees, he went down with a thud. "Give me back my purse! I'm not as weak as I look!"

"I see that,"he said. Then her eyes caught the man lying to their left. An unconscious man in black, her handbag clenched in his grip. She looked back to the handsome man she had tackled. His body hard muscle beneath her. He grinned, that playful gleam still in his eye. "I knew you had fire in you when I first saw you."

"You did?"

"I'm trained to know these things."

She looked back at the thief. She hadn't noticed the handcuffs at first.

"Theater reported some problems with pickpockets and purse snatchers. He won't be a problem anymore."

Catherine called from the speakers, "Take the tunnel to the right!"

Janie looked up at the screen. "Did you see--"

"Don't worry. I saw the movie already."

It had been a dream. For a moment, she'd almost thought ... hoped ...

From the dialogue, she must've been knocked out for only a minute or two. She recalled her entire adventure in vivid clarity. Then she grinned. This handsome man was no one- eyed troll. As a matter of fact, there suddenly seemed so very little to be afraid of. "Would you like to go for coffee?"

He smiled. "The station coffee is terrible. Once we get your head checked and your charges filed, I'll take you to the best midnight coffee in town."He winked. "Trained to know that too."

She didn't move from his body. She had the sudden urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

His voice rumbled in his chest. "I'm proud of the way you fought him. I knew you could do it."

She smiled. "Now I know too."

Kallaayt's Tale

by Rosemary Laurey

Rosemary Laurey is a retired special-education teacher who now spends her days writing about vampires and dragons. It's a lot more fun than phonics. Visit her website at www.rosemarylaurey.com.

"I will give what help I can, but..."

Kallaayt gave Arragh a twisted smile. "But you think me a foolish and ill-advised dragon."

Arragh shook his great head. "I think you disregard how shifting saps power and strength, and because of this may put yourself, and this human female, in danger."

Dark green eyes flashed sapphire blue. "You think me young and reckless!"

Arragh stilled Kallaayt's arm with sheathed claws. A hundred was young in dragon time, and Kallaayt had ever been prone to taking offense. "Not that. I killed two innocent human women before I brought my Myfanwy back to our world. Would you carry that on your soul?"

Kallaayt stared in shock for several long seconds. "Not you! Their own people slaughtered them!"

"And if I had never entered their land, they would still be spinning and weaving by their own firesides."

"You entered their land to bring back a fertile mate."

"Yes."A slow smile curved Arragh's wide mouth. "I did."As if on cue, Myfanwy and a group of females appeared from one of the caves in the valley. As they passed beneath the two dragons perched on the crater, the females waved. Kallaayt's dragon sight caught the smile Myfanwy flashed Arragh's way before she walked on, her swollen belly ripe with young dragon. Arragh followed her with his eyes. "A most worthy mate,"he said as if to himself.

"Gwen is equally worthy."

A dragon would have to be deaf and senseless to miss the affront in those four words. "You have chosen her. How could any one of us doubt? My question is not her worth, but her acceptance of your nature. Never forget, humans are taught to fear and despise us."

"Myfanwy does not fear you."

"Not now, but when she first saw me..."

"She was afraid?"

"Terrified! I smelled her fear from a hundred meters. They had her lashed to a tree, while her cowardly brothers fled to save their own worthless hides. She was petrified, but looked me in the eye and never flinched. Then, Kallaayt, was when I fell in love."Arragh smiled. "I wish that same joy to every unmated dragon among us, but never forget humans use tales of ravening worms to frighten their children. We are the bogeymen of their nightmares. What if your Gwen cannot accept your true nature?"

"Myfanwy did."

"Yes."Arragh nodded. "But she knew me as dragon from the first. Gwen believes you human, a wandering trader. She may take fright when you reveal yourself."

"Not Gwen. She has courage enough to accept, and loves me. Last harvest, she agreed to wait for me."

Arragh forbore to point out she'd agreed to wait for Kall the trader, not a dreaded worm of destruction. "When will you leave for her?"

"Less than a sennight. Even now I gather my wares. Marbra and the others have prepared treen to trade. Rarrp has made me fine clay vessels. Even your Myfanwy has turned shell buttons for me to carry. They all wish me success."

How could they not? The whole mountain was agog with the prospect of the first live birth after five decades. The expectation of a second fecund female was enough to turn everyone's heads--including young Kallaayt's. "I wish you and your chosen well, but ask that you not go alone."

"You think me incapable?"

Arragh sighed. Sweet Goddess preserve him from young dragons with tender egos! "Not that at all! Two minds are always better than one. Why not take your brother?"

A snort greeted that suggestion. "Kallauwn? I can find a bride by myself!"

"Bringing Gwen back is but part of your quest. Humans and their towns are changeable and unpredictable. Who knows what may have happened since you were there? Ask Kallauwn to accompany you as far as Tintawn. He can wait there. If you need him, summon him."

His words weren't rejected out of hand, but neither did Kallaayt embrace the idea. "Goddess knows what he might do while I'm gone."

"True, but I doubt it would be as disastrous as you needing him and not having him within hailing."

"You're convinced I cannot do this alone."

"No, I am not."Arragh paused. Had he ever been as touchy as Kallaayt? "But I have seen the fury mortals can unleash, and the cruelty they show to their own. I would not wish that horror on your Gwen."

Kallaayt shuddered at the thought. "As always, Arragh, you're right. I doubt I'll need his help, but he'll enjoy the jaunt."

Arragh gave Kallaayt a thump between his wing ridges. "Take him along. Let him learn how to find a mortal mate. May the Goddess go with you, and may your Gwen prove as worthy as my Myfanwy."

* * *

Some days later, as Kallaayt sewed hides together for packs, Myfanwy approached him. She hesitated, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He'd mentioned this strange habit to Arragh. "She was taught deference and subservience to males,"he'd replied. Kallaayt shook his head then, just as he puzzled now. She was a gestating female: a creature of awe and wonder, possessing the power of procreation. He shook his head. In Llanbarra, where Gwen dwelt, females took second place to the males. How these humans mangled the Goddess's will!

He sighed inwardly and smiled at the sturdy, pale-skinned woman and her ripe belly. "How may I serve you, most-fecund Myfanwy?"

A hesitant smile curled her lips. "I would speak with you, about your chosen bride...,"she hesitated a heartbeat or two, "...if I do not intrude."

He moved a little to his right to make room for her on the grassy hillock. "How could the female who carries our next born ever intrude?"

She sat down but blushed as he cupped a hand on her rounded belly and felt the thrust of a sturdy foot, or perhaps the punch of a little clawed fist. "You nurture a fine young dragon there, Myfanwy."

"Rarrp says I have two."

Dear Goddess! Was it even possible? "And what do you think?"

"Arragh says she is never wrong in these things, so I expect I will have twins."Myfanwy smiled. "A boy and a girl, she predicts."

Could they be so blessed? Male and a female offspring together. "The day Arragh brought you to us was glorious indeed."

"And you wish to bring your own mate back to Cader Bala?"

"If the Goddess wills, yes."

"It's not the Goddess who has to leave her home and family."

The sharpness in her words more than surprised him. "You are discontented?"How could she be? She was revered, respected.

Myfanwy shook her head. "I am not foolish, Kallaayt. If I were not here, I would have been killed by my people. Of course I am content."She smoothed both hands over her belly. "Most contented. But, if Arragh had asked me if I would leave my home and live with him forever in the fire mountain in the west, I would have fled in shock. Humans do not know dragons as I do now, and I fear your chosen believes the horrors, not the truth."

He'd lain awake considering that, after his conversation with Arragh. "What should I do?"

"Does Gwen have any notion you are other than Kall the itinerant trader?"

"No."

She went silent, biting her lower lip as a little crease appeared between her eyes. "You must tell her."

He knew that much! But he held back his irritation. He would never snarl at a female, much less a pregnant one. "How?"he asked, hearing his own uncertainty.

"As soon as seems propitious. Has she...,"she paused, "has she accepted your love?"

He hoped. "When we last parted, I asked if she would wait for my return. That's how humans court, is it not?"

"Sometimes, but often a girl's family chooses her mate, and she has little say in the matter."

Barbaric! He kept that opinion to himself. "Gwen has no family. Only Karil, the innkeeper, an uncle who barely deserves the title. Her father owned the chief inn in Llanbarra. Her mother was an outsider and had no family in the city. They both died in an epidemic two years ago. Her uncle inherited the inn."An injustice that made Kallaayt want to rail at the town rulers who sanctioned such things. "He grudges her shelter. Where she was once a loved daughter, she now toils in the kitchen and sleeps in an attic over the stables."

Myfanwy seemed unsurprised. "In the human world it goes hard with women alone."

He let out a dragon snort to tell her what he thought of that custom. "In direct defiance of the Goddess's will."

"They care little for the Goddess, because she teaches what the men do not care to hear."Myfanwy paused again. "But in the circumstances, that is to your advantage. With no family, and a desperate position, Gwen will be more ready to follow you than a girl with security and a loving family."

He forbore commenting on what Myfanwy's supposedly loving family had planned for her. "She is courageous, and to be so alone is a tragedy. When she comes here with me, she will be surrounded by protectors."

"One will content her, I believe."

He smiled as he caught her meaning. "She is so fine, Myfanwy. As worthy as you to bear a dragon."

"Accustom Gwen to your being more than human, before you mention her fecundity."

"You believe so? Don't humans put great worth on healthy offspring?"

"Yes,"she agreed, "but marrying a husband chosen by one's parents is a little more expected than flying off to Cader Bala with a dragon."

"I see."He did. Only too well. "You fear she may refuse me."

Myfanwy shrugged. "How she will receive the truth, I cannot tell. But, you must tell her. And soon. If she accepts you, mortals pledge a betrothal with a ring."When he stared at her uncomprehending, she went on. "A ring to wear on her finger."

He'd seen such during his forays into Llanbarra. "I will have Granned make one of finest red gold and gems from the mountain heart."

Myfanwy shook her heard. "That would get too much attention, on the hand of a woman who works in a kitchen. Why not have Granned make a fine band of red gold? Few mortals will see it for what it is, and Gwen will know it's a gift from your heart."

"I will, and remember your advice. I cannot wait to bring Gwen back here."

"And we cannot wait to welcome her."

* * *

Ten days later, in mortal form, and pulling a laden handcart, Kallaayt left his brother behind him in the abandoned homestead of Tintawn and set off for Llanbarra.

"Summon me when you need me,"Kallauwn said.

"If I need you."Kallaayt clasped his younger brother to him. "My thanks for your help with the cart and goods. Wait for me here."

"I will never stir."

With an abandoned farmstead, and a profusion of vegetables, chickens, and rabbits run wild, Kallauwn had no reason to wander.

"Leave some young vegetables for Gwen,"requested Kallaayt.

"She will have the finest."

That evening, Kallaayt approached the gates of Llanbarra. Six months ago, the workers were laboring to construct a perimeter fence. Now, it was the height of two men, and wide gates marked the entry from the road. Presumably at night they were sealed to keep out invaders and undesirables. Kallaayt shook his head. Mortals! Judging by the brawls and disturbance he'd witnessed in the streets, there was more risk of harm from the town citizenry than from the woods, flocks, and farmsteads scattered over the fertile plain of Barr.

As he approached the gate, a roughly dressed guard, too young to yet shave, challenged him. "What business do you have in our fair city, peddler?"

"Same business as ever: to sell my wares."Were they going to refuse him entry?

"Get on with you, Hal!"the second sentry said. "We're here to stop bandits and thieves, not honest traders!"He nodded at Kallaayt. "This is Kall, the trader from the west."The sentry gave the lad a not-unkindly nudge. "Stand aside, you, and let him enter, and if you wish to stand in good stead with that Betsy of yours, you'd best visit Kall for one of his trinkets."He nodded to Kall. "Putting up at the Flowing Flagon, are you?"

"As always! I have some fine leather pouches your wife would welcome, Harrad,"Kallaayt replied, remembering the man's name.

Kallaayt pulled his cart through the wide-arched gate and over the hard cobbles and immediately encountered a barrier blocking the street.

"Your business?"a ferret-faced man demanded.

"I am Kall, the trader. I come to sell my wares."Sweet Goddess! How many times was he to answer the same question? At this pace it would be night before he reached the inn.

The man consulted a list and then conferred with another guard standing by. "Seems you are well-known. You many pass."At last! "After payment of the bishop's levy."

"What levy is this?"

The soldier took a step forward. "By order of the bishop, all traders are tithed. What is the value of your goods?"

"Fifty silver pieces."These mortals strove to put a price on everything.

The tax collector nodded. "Assuming a tendency to under-value, I assess your levy as six silver pieces."Extortion, but to protest would delay meeting Gwen. "Refusal to pay results in confiscation of goods."

"No refusal,"Kallaayt replied as he counted out six silver coins, making sure they saw the remaining two he dropped back in. His larger purse remained safe under his belt.

They seemed less than pleased as he handed over the coins. A soldier prodded at the packs and boxes, but lifted the barrier and let him pass.

"What if a poor tinker or peddler cannot pay on entry?"Kallaayt asked.

The soldier grinned. "We accept payment in goods."

Foolishness all around. How many itinerant traders had his access to gold and silver? News of this would spread, and peddlers would bypass Llanbarra for more hospitable towns.

As Kallaayt passed through the narrow streets, he looked around. As always, new wooden buildings grew at the pace of apple trees, but the gutters were filled with refuse and slops. He turned into the stable yard of the Flowing Flagon, and called for Ben, the head hostler. A rough-headed man appeared. "Ben's gone to the Spreading Oak,"he told Kallaayt. "I'm running things here now."

That explained the grass between the paving stones and the sour smell from the stables. If it weren't for seeing Gwen, Kallaayt would have joined Ben at the smaller inn by the southgate. "I need space to store my wares."

The man prodded at the cart and seemed disappointed that the straps and locks held. "Will cost you."

"My arrangement with innkeeper Karil is a share of my take."And a generous portion it was, too.

"That is as may be, but I'm the one as protects your property when you're away."

Kallaayt handed over a fistful of copper coins, promising silver in two days. Goods sold or not, he was leaving as soon as Gwen agreed. Kallaayt checked the locks and straps on his cart, paused by the pump to wash the dust of the road off his face and chest, pulled on a clean shirt, and crossed to the kitchen.

The large heat- and smoke-filled room was abuzz with enough activity to approach disorder. But look as Kallaayt might from one end to the other, he saw no sign of Gwen.

"Is you here to eat?"a sweaty-faced lad asked. Kallaayt stared. Gwen would throw up her arms when she saw the state of the lad's hands and fingernails. "You'd best get to the buttery then."

Not yet. "I will, lad, but first I'd speak with Gwen."

The lad's eyes went wide, before a nasty smirk curled his wet mouth. "You would, sir? Then it's not the Flowing Flagon you need, but the house of Wide Open Legs."

For a split second Kallaayt understood why mortals hit each other. "I think not,"he replied, his voice sounding tight. "Call her if you will."

The grin was now downright insolent. Kallaayt took a deep breath. He was dragon, this greasy lad would not anger him, but neither would he insult his chosen. "Boy..."

He was interrupted by a red-faced kitchenmaid with smoothed-back dark hair. "Get on with you, Hal!"she snarled at the boy. "Wash your hands and get that bowl of punch to the gentlemen in the front parlor if you don't want to feel a wooden spoon round your rear!"The boy scuttled off and the maid looked at Kallaayt. He remembered her from earlier visits.

"Mari,"Kallaayt began, "where's Gwen? That lout said..."he angled his head in the direction the boy had gone.

"Hal is an ache in the head,"Mari replied. "Look, Kall. Go to the buttery. The new cook hates visitors to his kitchen."New cook? Was Gwen at last given the dignity she deserved? Was the lad's spite at her good fortune? "I'll bring you stew and ale and tell you all that's happened since last you were here."She looked around as if scared she'd be overheard. "Go and take a seat. I'll be there as fast as I can."

Now would not be fast enough. But Kallaayt caught her anxiety and nodded before stepping out and across the hallway.

The buttery was all but empty. Two men looked up from their seats by the empty fireplace. After the briefest of nods acknowledging Kallaayt's "Good day,"they returned to their beef and ale as he took a seat by the open window and frowned over the lad's spiteful words.

No doubt Gwen had censured him--for his dirty hands no doubt--and he bore a spiteful grudge. But at least Gwen had been raised from her position in the kitchen. What had spurred that generosity in her cold-eyed uncle?

"Here you are!"Mari set a tray down on the table, and served a steaming pot of savory stew, with a hunk of dark bread, and a tankard of ale. She'd remembered his preference for raw fruit and set a basket of polished apples and winter pears on the scrubbed table.

"I thank you."He handed her a silver coin that she slipped into her pocket with a smile and profuse thanks. "It's little enough, Mari. Now, tell me where I may find Gwen, and if her uncle will prevent me."

"He'll not stop you,"she replied, "but..."

"Where is she?"The beginnings of apprehension stirred his dragon heart.

Mari frowned. "Sir, Gwen made me swear never to tell you, she was so ashamed, but she also told me you'd pledged to her. And I think that gives me leave to break my promise."

"What did she not want told? Where is she?"

"Hal spoke rightly, sir. She's in the house of Wide Open Legs."

A great icy load heaved in Kallaayt's chest. "How?"It came out as a growl.

Worried eyes met his. "It was not her fault, sir. Truly it was not. It was a great injustice but she had nowhere else to go."

He knew he should not have waited until spring! "What happened?"

Mari took a deep breath, her dark eyes glistening as she remembered. "Just after you left, as the leaves were turning, her uncle announced he'd handfast her to Morgan the Miller."

"She was forced into marriage?"

"No, sir. She refused."

The Goddess bless his Gwen. He knew she'd stand true. "What happened?"

"It was terrible. Karil Joneth shouted at her, beat her, and threatened to turn her out of doors, but she would not consent. It was then she told me, she was handfast to you and would never accept another even if her uncle beat her until she bled."

His growl came from deep within his heart. He had some debts to settle with the innkeeper. "What then?"

"That was the worst of all. One night, in the month of first frost, Morgan the Miller came to her room."

Kallaayt's mind burned and froze at once time. "You know it was him?"

"I was awake, sir, and heard her screams and went running."Her face set hard. "I saw him clear as I see you. I hit him and jumped on him, thinking two of us might have a chance, but he threw me off, and I hit the wall and went senseless. When I came too, it was to find Gwen sobbing over me. She was bloodied and beaten...and raped."

Kallaayt was silent now. Human tongue didn't possess the words to express his anger and he could not roar in this tidy paneled room. "And..."

Mari shook her head. "Morgan went to the new bishop and denounced her as unchaste. By then, she knew she was pregnant. She protested her innocence but they dismissed it as the accusations of the guilty. Karil cast her out. She tried to get hired in other inns, even the cookshop by the river, but no one dared hire her after the public shaming. Madam Lou was the only one in town who'd take her in."

He shuddered. His Gwen, in a brothel! "She works there still?"

"As cook,"Mari replied.

Praise the goddess for small mercies. "I must see her."

Mari nodded. "Finish your dinner first. But don't tarry too long, evenings are busy in that house."

He didn't even finish the stew. The new cook lacked Gwen's touch. Or perhaps misery and worry took his appetite away. Kallaayt swigged down the ale, tore off a couple of mouthfuls of bread, and set off for Madam Lou's house.

Kallaayt paused at the corner and looked down the unpaved street at the front door. It took every fiber of his dragon control not to storm the wide oak door above the three yellow stone steps. But if Madam Lou had offered Gwen a refuge from the streets, she deserved Kallaayt's thanks, not his ire.

When trading with the wenches he'd used the narrow side door. Not today. If Gwen cooked, she'd be in the kitchen. He went around to the back. Savory aromas of cooking wafting from the half-open door reminded Kallaayt he'd dined sparsely. He paused on the step, listening. Gwen's sweet voice admonished someone: "Stir those onions, we want them browned, not blackened."

He peered in. Gwen was rolling pastry at the table, and a young girl, scarcely more than a child, stirred a large pan on the stove.

As the child turned, Kallaayt glimpsed her kitten-faced mouth. Another outcast. She saw Kallaayt and looked away but not before saying, "Mistress Gwen, a caller."

He stepped over the threshold as Gwen turned. His mind barely registered her swollen belly, before she screamed "Kall! No!"and fainted, the rolling pin clattering to the floor.

He swept her up in his arms, and turned to the now-crying girl. "Where can I lay her down?"

As Kallaayt strode toward the far door, the child fled, calling for Madam Lou.

Madam Lou responded in seconds, blocking the doorway, hands on her hips. "And who are you? Entering uninvited and attacking my cook."

"Gwen fainted. She needs a bed and..."He looked at the child. "Fetch her some barley water and cool cloths for her face,"he said and turned to Madam Lou. "Where can I take her?"

She led him to a small parlor with an upholstered divan. Kallaayt carried the still- limp Gwen across the carpeted floor, and gently set her on the pillows. She was pale, her face much thinner than he remembered, and her belly seemed too heavy for her slender legs. Myfanwy thrived on her gestation, Gwen was weakened.

"Can you not do better for her?"he snapped at Madam Lou. "Toiling in a kitchen in this condition."

Madam Lou stepped up to loom over him. "Gwen's woman enough to decide when to rest and when to work. She was perfectly well until you walked in and scared her half to death. Who are you? Explain yourself before I call the constables!"

"I am Kall, the trader, and Gwen is promised to me."

The woman's face didn't soften one trace. "I remember you now."She frowned. "If Gwen is yours, you did a poor job of protecting her."

"The ones who abused her will suffer."

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Indeed?"

"I swear it, by the Goddess."

That earned him another raised eyebrow.

He scarcely noticed. "Kall?"Gwen's faint voice had all his attention. "Why are you here?"

He smiled down at her dark eyes and hair as golden as ripe corn. "Didn't I promise I would return when the oak trees set new leaves? I'm here. To take you home."

Her eyes flashed with panic, as her hands covered her belly. "I cannot go with you now, Kall. I am ruined."

"You are not!"His growl echoed in the small room. "You are blameless! Sorely wronged! A victim does not carry guilt for her abusers."

"But, like this?"She looked down in panic at her swelling body and shook her head. "I cannot leave if I would."

"I will not see you stay where you were so misused. We leave at dawn, Gwen."

"Hold here!"Madam Lou prodded Kallaayt on the shoulder. "Noble words and fine- sounding deeds, but who's to say you're honest? You'll not carry her off--in her condition--to wander the lanes and byways and birth herself under a hedge."

At last, one human cared for his Gwen. No...two--Mari was worried about her. "Gwen will be safe with me. My kin will welcome her as my chosen mate, and we have skilled birthers to help her when her time comes."

"Will you two stop talking about me as if I weren't here? I decide if I go or stay."

"You gave me your word. Do you rescind it?"Kallaayt asked.

"Yes!"Her eyes were bright with tears and he knew she lied.

"Gwen, hush!"Madam Lou sank down on the divan and took Gwen's hand in hers. "You're in shock. Not the time to make these hasty decisions."Kallaayt gave her an appreciative smile. Wise woman. "You rest up."She patted Gwen's hand. "And I'll have a word with this wandering peddler of yours."Her voice and the look she gave him challenged him to better her opinion.

"I cannot leave and you know that, Madam Lou. Convince Kall."

"I'll talk with him, pet, but as for convincing him of anything other than his wish to take you away..."She patted Gwen on the shoulder. "Stop fretting, you need to rest."

Gwen shook her head. "I must finish dinner. Ella is alone in the kitchen. Tonight the engravers' guild is coming."She tried to swing her legs to the floor.

Madam Lou's bulk blocked her. "You're not the only person in the house who can cook. I'll send two of the wenches to help Ella. If she ever appears with the barley water and cloths your intended ordered."

"He's not my intended."

"I am, Gwen. And I do not plan to release you from your promise."

As Gwen repeated her objections, Ella appeared, and while Kallaayt held the glass and urged Gwen to drink, Madam Lou sent the child off for blankets.

"You'll rest, or I'll know why!"Madam Lou said in a voice that brooked no argument. "Stay off your feet for two hours by the sandglass, and you'll be fit enough to go back to the kitchen. Start moving around and you'll faint on us again."Her admonition ended with a smile and a quick kiss on Gwen's forehead. "You,"she said to Kallaayt, "I'll see in my office before the sands are halfway run."

"Kall,"Gwen began even before the door closed behind Madam Lou. "I cannot leave with you, even if I would."

"It is not far, my love. I can take you there in less than one day."If he shifted and flew. "And I swear not one of my kin will ever speak a word in condemnation."He brushed the golden hair off her face and looked deep in her eyes. "Can you truly say you do not love me?"

She shook her head. "Kall..."

From the corners of her eyes, twin tears fell. He gathered them on the tip of his finger and licked the salt of her sorrow away. "Talk no more of us breaking faith. We are promised and that, my love, is that."

When she started to protest, he kissed her. Her soft sweet mouth opened under his with a quiet sigh, sorrow and worry fading in their kindling passion. She reached up and held his head, pulling him closer as their tongues met. It had been far too long, but their bodies remembered. His hand slid down to cup her breast, now full and hard and luscious to his touch. He needed her, wanted her, and he had no doubt Madam Lou was standing outside, timing him.

Gently he eased off her mouth, holding her close as he dropped a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Rest, my love. When I've convinced Madam Lou I'm not a disreputable nomad, I'll return."And tell Gwen his secret. "We'll ready ourselves to leave at dawn."

"I cannot, Kall! You do not understand! I am forbidden to leave this house. If I do, I'll be flogged in the market square."

His anger went cold as the frost in northern lands. "Who says this, Gwen?"

"The new bishop. He pronounced me tainted and impure after I fled here."

"Gwen, we leave together, never fear."

"We cannot, Kall. If I could sneak unseen though the alleys, the new gates are guarded by day and sealed by night."

"Gates will not stop me, and you need never set foot on these inhospitable streets again. Believe me, Gwen. We leave together."He placed his hand on her belly. "The three of us."He kissed her again, and this time willed sleep to her. Her eyes were closed as he walked toward the door.

Madam Lou waited, arms crossed on her chest. "She's resting?"

"Asleep."

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Kallaayt followed her into a small study. She took one chair by the now-empty fireplace and offered him another. He looked around as he sat--this room was as comfortable as where he'd left Gwen sleeping. A chimney fireplace and a glazed window, woven cloths on the wood floor, accommodations here were far better than anything the Flowing Flagon offered.

"Not what you'd expected in a wenchhouse?"

"In truth, Madam Lou, I never gave the matter any thought."That she appeared to doubt. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving Gwen refuge. But I'm afraid you must find a new cook. Gwen leaves with me, before dawn."

"Spoke with her on this, did you?"

"Yes, and in her dazed, shocked state she insists she cannot leave the city."

"She's not dazed. She can't."

"And who would stop her?"

"The bishop's constables. And they'd delight in it."He caught the meaning in her stone-cold words.

"What happened that the bishop holds such sway?"He remembered a benign, doddery old man.

"You want the recent history of Llanbarra, or to talk about Gwen?"

"Seems they are linked."

Madam Lou nodded. "True. Everything changed when the new bishop arrived."

"What happened to the old one?"

"Bishop Alriv?"She shook her head. "That was a sad day. He fell down at the altar with paralysis. A good man. He only preached against my house at the beginning of the penance season, and his priests always treated my wenches with respect. Once, a young deacon got overrough with one of my wenches, and when I complained, the bishop himself reprimanded him and sent his own healer to tend her."She sighed. "But all that changed."

She got up and walked over to a small cabinet, returning with two small glasses filled with tawny liquor. "I need this, even if you don't,"she said, handing him one. She raised her glass. "Prosperity to you and your kin."

Kallaayt echoed her toast and sipped. Briefly. Unsure what he was drinking, and unwilling to disturb her narrative by asking.

"Many new laws came with the new rule."

He'd encountered one already. "The taxes at the gate."

"Just one of many. We have bishop's constables now, reporting, sneaking and prying into honest folks' lives."She shrugged. "It's bad. Girls and lads flirting on the streets are hauled into his courts and chastised. Dancing and singing are forbidden on holy days."She took another sip. "Your poor Gwen was brought before the courts as a wanton and shamed in front of the whole town, but Morgan the Miller strides the streets as an honored tradesman. When Gwen claimed he'd raped her--and there were witnesses who'd seen her bruises and Mari stood up and swore she heard her screams and saw Morgan in her room with his clothes awry. Bah! The bishop declared only a wanton would lure a man that way, and threatened Mari with the pillory and flogging as a liar if she persisted in her slander."By the time Madam Lou finished, she was red-faced with anger. "Anyone with half a brain and one eye could see Gwen is no wanton."

"Mari claims it was a trap set up by innkeeper Karil. Gwen refused Morgan in marriage, so she was cast out."

"A sharp girl, that Mari."

And an honest and noble one, too. She deserved better than the silver coin he'd given. "It is high time Gwen left a town where she is so maligned."

"And the bishop's fiat that she may not set foot on the streets?"

"That will not stop us."

She looked at the still full glass in his hand and nodded. "Gwen is willing to go with you?"

"She says no, but that is shame and pride speaking. I will convince her."

Madam Lou gave a little lopsided smile. "That I don't doubt, but does she know what you are?"

"A trader, yes."

"The fools in the town believe that. I know otherwise."

Kallaayt met her eyes. "What do you fancy you know?"

Her laugh came soft and free. "No fancy. But in truth I'm uncertain what I saw. When you carried Gwen from the kitchen, I glimpsed another you. Stronger. Powerful beyond a man. Whatever you are, you walk in the form of Kall the trader."

Dragons never lie, but when knowledge can harm or kill, needs must be economical with truth. "My true form would ever be unwelcome here."

"A shifter?"

He nodded, still unsure of her, and unwilling to implicate her as accomplice, if truth ever outed.

"Best tell your beloved then--such news needs be shared."

"I came back to tell her."And would do so with all speed.

"Give me your word you will not take her away against her will."

"I swear it."

She seemed content with that.

"How did you see?"No mortal eye had ever penetrated a dragon's shift.

She chuckled. "I, too, am not entirely what I seem. My mother was burned as a sorceress, and her grandmother was one of the Priestesses of the Old Circle."

"One of the Goddess's Chosen?"It had been many decades since any mortal had formed the Sacred Circle.

"Hush now!"Madam Lou raised her hand as if to quiet him. "Never say her name aloud. By fiat we only worship gods now."

"Another decree of the bishop?"

"The enforcement is his. The old bishop turned a blind eye believing all prayer went heavenward. But now, the constables destroy any symbols of the old religion, and brand those possessing them."

What blasphemy! The sooner he took Gwen from this clutch of heretics, the better.

"Will you not come with us? A descendant of one of the Goddess's own would be ever welcome among my kind."

"I cannot dessert those who depend on me. Take Gwen, if she wills, and use your powers to spirit her away."

"I will, and ever be grateful."

Leaving Madam Lou in her study, Kallaayt strode back to the parlor. He opened the door quietly so as not to disturb Gwen, and found the room empty.

He found her minutes later, in the center of kitchen activity, and seeming no worse for her shock. He stood in the doorway and watched as she sent the girl to the root cellar for turnips and onions, and a gangly lad to the yard for more wood for the stove. As they left on their errands, he was alone with Gwen in the vast kitchen. She looked at him, chin up. A spark of something he couldn't quite measure flashed in the dark of her eyes.

Before either of them spoke, Madam Lou appeared with two wenches in tow. "I thought as much! Truly, Gwen, have you no thought for my reputation? What if you collapse again, and I'm accused of working my cook to exhaustion? Adele and Bron here will take over. You,"she shook a plump finger at Gwen, "will go and rest. And you,"she turned to Kallaayt, "better make sure she stays in her room."

Kallaayt had no quarrel with that commission.

How would Gwen accept it?

Cautiously.

She acknowledged Madam Lou's dictum with a nod. After removing her apron and wiping her hands on a drying cloth, Gwen walked out the door, Kallaayt following her up two flights of back stairs. She paused in the hallway at the top. Several doors opened off the scrubbed wood floor.

"Kall,"she began, "there is no need for this."

"There is every need, Gwen. We must talk, and our child needs you to rest. Which is your room?"

She led him into small neat room, with a narrow bed and a woven cloth on the floor. A high window looked out on the twilight.

Gwen paused in the middle of the room.

Kallaayt closed the door behind them. There was no lock, but he trusted Madam Lou to see they were undisturbed. He took Gwen's hand and stepped to the narrow bed. He sat down on the snowy white cover and motioned her beside him. She sat, but not close. "When we parted,"he said, "I promised to return for you. I am here and would take you with me, if you still will."

"Kall, do you not listen? My will is pointless now! I cannot leave the town."

"Your bishop and constables are nothing to me. If you will come with me, we leave."

"And when they stop us and drag us back?"

"They cannot stop me, Gwen."

"Are you more powerful than the bishop and his constables?"

"Yes."

Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. "Wishing does not make it so, Kall. I am condemned to stay here, and when my babe is born, they will take him and give him to his father."

A roar of protest gathered in the dragon lungs. "Never!"

"Kall, how can we defy them?"

"Listen, Gwen..."he paused. She'd swooned at the sight of him, what would she do on learning his true nature? No matter. Before he could convince her, she had to understand his power. "I come to Llanbarra in the guise of a trader. If I came as I am, they would never let me enter the town."

"Why?"She paled, but looked him in the eye. "Are you a spy? One of the pirates from across the water?"

"Neither. My kin live to the north, in the great fire mountain, Cader Bala."

Her eyes grew wide. "Cader Bala? They say demons live there."

"No demons, Gwen--dragons. The first of the Goddess's chosen. We live on the riches of the great fire mountain."

"Kall, your words do not make sense. No man is a dragon."

"I'm not a human man, Gwen. My true name is Kallaayt."

She stared.

He waited.

She spoke slowly as if to a dim-witted child. "Kall, I wish you were a dragon who could carry me away."

She had not recoiled at the idea. Hope bloomed in his heart. "I speak truly, Gwen. Look, will this convince you?"

He meshed his fingers with hers, and raised their joined hands, turning his wrist so his hand was level with her eyes. "Watch."

He invoked the Goddess's power, and one finger at a time transformed the hand that grasped hers. Her work-worn fingers pressed against the slowly forming soft scales on his hand. Her lips parted as she watched: shock, horror, and delight mingling in her wide eyes.

"Dear heaven,"she whispered. "It is true."She looked up, her face even paler now, but a fierce hope glimmered in her eyes. "You can truly take me away."

"Will you come?'

"Oh, Kall!"She dropped his hand, and wrapped her warm arms round his neck. "How could I not?"Her belly pressed close, and the child within kicked and punched. She pulled back, looking up at Kallaayt, doubt still clouding her eyes. "But your kin, how will they welcome me, carrying another's child?"

"My kin welcome all young. They are rare among us and precious."

"But Kall--"

He stopped her mid-sentence with a kiss, slowly opening her mouth with his lips. She sighed with sweet pleasure, as he pressed harder, capturing her mouth under his. He cupped his hand around her head and held her steady as his tongue found hers. Her little whimper of happiness was swallowed by his kiss. As he pressed his advantage, she relaxed in his arms. His fingers slid over her full breasts, and the voluptuous curves of her ripening body. Sweet Goddess! Gwen was a treasure beyond dreaming, and she'd accepted his nature.

He wanted to bind her to him by his body, but not with this mortal shape. After her babe was born, he would take her as dragon. They had eternity for loving, but for now...

An arm around her shoulders, he eased her back on the smooth linen spread. She lay looking up at him from the pillows. He leaned over her, kissing her eyelids, and the smooth curve of her cheeks and jaw. Brushing her hair aside, he nuzzled the soft skin of her neck. As she sighed with pleasure, he eased open her shift, and her full breasts fell free.

"Kall?"she said. "What..."Her question was lost in a long, slow moan of delight as his tongue curled round her nipple. His hands cupped her ripe breasts. Soon they would suckle her child, but for now, these breasts were his. And he took them, tasting the sweet richness that would nourish her child. A child for Cader Bala.

He groaned as he ran his hands over her belly and down her thighs, before lifting her skirts, to fix his gaze on her ripe belly, long legs, and the soft glistening curls between. She was ripe and ready and he caught the scent of her need. He longed to take her. To feel her warmth and softness grasp his cock...but that must wait until after they were sung to the mating pavilions in the heart of the fire mountain.

Now was for Gwen.

Gently he ran his hand up and down her legs to part them. When she offered no protest, he kissed her belly. He rested his face against her to hear the strong young heartbeat within. His heart seemed to swell within his chest. Mortal frame was too restricting. He needed to roar his joy aloud, but contented himself with cupping her warm sex.

She started, and sat bolt upright. "Kall!"

The panic in her voice reminded him she'd been traumatized. It was up to him to obliterate her horror with loving, replace pain with pleasure, and shame with joy.

"Hush, I will not hurt you, Gwen. I could not. It would kill me to harm you, or this babe. Trust me."

He watched the muscles of her throat undulate as she swallowed. Slowly. She nodded. "Oh, Kall!"

"Kallaayt. I want to hear you say my true name. You are the only soul in this town to know it."

"Kallaayt."She spoke slowly, testing the syllables with her tongue. "Kallaayt."

"Yes."He pressed gently against one shoulder. "Lie down."

"Kallaayt,"she repeated, as he settled between her legs.

Gently he smoothed his fingertips along the inside of her thighs. She shivered. From fear or desire? Desire! A fire kindled inside him as he smelled her passion. Her need was a clear as the scent of her arousal and the moisture gathering on her sex lips. He opened her as gently as he knew how, and was rewarded with a sweet murmur of need. He smiled against her thigh. She'd do more than murmur before he was done.

He stroked her softness, testing her wetness, and venturing just a nail's length into her channel. He did not dare enter deeper, not until the babe was born. He didn't need to. He bent his face closer, breathing softly on her moistness until she sighed again. He lapped her with the flat of his tongue, tasting her sweetness and need. Her hips bucked under his touch. He lapped again, slower this time, caressing her from fore to aft and back again. Gwen grabbed his head with her hands. "Kall? Kallaayt? What are you doing?"

"Loving you,"he replied, and bent back to her need. He narrowed his tongue, fluttering her lips apart before flicking his tongue back and forth until he found her pleasure nub. She hardened under his tongue and he played her. Drawing her desire higher and wilder as she tossed under his touch.

Muttering and moaning, she grasped his head and shoulders with her restless hands. Her passion was rising in every pore of her skin. Her sweetness flooded onto his tongue. His lips pressed into her warmth. Muffled whimpers followed as she climbed her passion, and as she reached her crest, she called out "Kallaayt! Kallaayt!"With a great shriek, she climaxed, and he knew he'd won her.

She looked up at him with drowsy eyes. "Oh Kallaayt, I love you. I'd go with you to the ends of the earth."

"No need, my love. Cader Bala is far enough."

"When?"

"Before dawn. I must settle my affairs at the Flagon, but I'll return. Rest now. The flight is long."

"I will come whenever and go wherever, if you are with me."

Was this what Arragh felt when Myfanwy promised him? Joy strong enough to engulf? The joy of Gwen? Kallaayt reached into the neck of his tunic.

Gwen pressed her white hand against his. "I would see you naked,"she said

"When I return, you will see me as dragon."He kissed her fingertips, and slipped a narrow chain of dragon gold from around his neck. Suspended on the fine links was the ring Granned had wrought. "This ring as a token of my love."

"Kallaayt, it is too fine."

"Nothing is too fine for you, my love."

"No one has a ring such as this."She turned the golden circle in her fingers. "Not even the bishop's wife."

"She is not beloved by a dragon."

"No."Gwen smiled. "She is not."

"Rest here awhile, my love, until I return for you. Is there a ledge on the roof where you can wait?"

"There is a flat space."

"Be there, my Gwen."He slipped the ring on her finger. "Wear it with pride as a dragon's bride."

"Yes."

So little a word. So great a promise. "I'll tell Madam Lou she must needs find a new cook. We'll be gone from her in one turn of the sandglass. You and your child will be safe. You have the word of Kallaayt of Cader Bala."

She accepted it unquestioningly.

As did Madam Lou.

A short nod and "Sure of yourself now, are you?"Was the only acknowledgement of cries that must have echoed even downstairs. But given the nature of the establishment...

"I will return soon. Can you help Gwen up to the roof? That way you can swear no one entered your house, but she was stolen by a dragon. That should keep the bishop and his constables pondering."

She nodded. "I'll see she has covers against the cold. You'll guard her well?"

"With my life and honor."

"Long enough. Can you not leave now?"

"We must wait until dark, and I have affairs to settle."Setting fire to the mill and the Flowing Flagon was part of it. A dragon fire that would burn slow enough for all to escape, but could not be extinguished but would burn itself out. Arragh would caution against it, Kallaayt knew, but humans understood revenge, and Gwen was due hers.

* * *

Kallaayt strode through the streets toward the Flowing Flagon. He had little enough time to do all: settle his script with innkeeper Karil, take care of the contents of his wagon, and light up the sky over Llanbarra. He'd hand his trade goods over to Mari. She was sharp enough to sell them for profit and perhaps gain enough to set herself up away from the inn.

As he entered the yard, he stopped in shock. His cart was overturned and three constables were rummaging though his goods strewn over the straw.

"What are you doing?"Kallaayt demanded.

"Inspecting for taxes,"one replied as he pocketed a string of Myfanwy's carved buttons.

The second one pulled out a set of forks in fine copper. "You underpaid when you entered the gate,"he said with a grin. The forks disappeared into a deep pocket.

Another tossed one of Granned's fine goblets onto the ground. The sight of gold- rimmed fragments on the cobblestones roused Kallaayt's ire. This was wanton destruction! He reached to rescue the next goblet, but as he stepped forward, the third man punched.

As dragon, he could have taken them on. As mortal, he was little stronger than they were. Against three, he had no chance. Kallaayt fought, but a stout cudgel smashed the back of his head, and he fell, senseless to the straw.

* * *

He came to in the dark. A faint beam of moonlight penetrated the chinks in the walls. How far into the night was it? And where was he? Prison? He had to break out. If not as mortal, as dragon and damn the town or discovery, but as he tossed back his head to roar, weakness sucked him under. An iron band circled one ankle. The mortal-forged metal sapped his strength. He couldn't shift, unless he could break the iron.

The heavy links tethered his ankle to a stone in the floor. He would not sit here while Gwen waited. He tried lifting the rough-hewn stone, but other than budging it a few thumbspams, his efforts were useless. Ignoring the pain and pressure on his ankle, he explored his jail. The walls were wood. As was the roof. Was he in part of the inn, or the stables? Not stables. No smell or sound of horses.

Exploring the limits of his chain, he found nothing but a damp dirt floor, some sour straw, and the all-pervading smell of--he sniffed the air as best he could with mortal sense--stale blood. He was in the byre near the kitchen, where they tethered animals before slaughter.

He sent a mind call to Kallauwn, but sensed the power sapped by the cursed iron that chafed his weak human skin as he dragged the chain behind him.

Outside, he heard footsteps, but any hope of rescue faded with the drunken shouts and yells.

"Stay there and rot, peddler!"one surly voice yelled, in reply to Kall's calls. "We've sport here, that's none for you!"

Kallaayt sank down on the stone, and shook his head. What now?

Above the clamor, he caught the shriller cries. Some poor woman had fallen prey to the intoxicated revelers. He heard screams, drunken laughter, the sound of flesh slapping flesh, more cries, and high-pitched screams.

The Goddess protect the poor woman. This town was no place for anyone to linger. And he, Kallaayt, dragon of the fire mountain, was helpless.

A great shudder racked Kallaayt. He had to elude his captors. Cut off his foot if need be, and hope transformation would heal him. But what could he use to do the deed? Pacing his prison by the length of the chain, he searched for a fragment of glass, a sharp stone, anything that might loosen the chain that kept him from returning to Gwen.

All he found was bucket and a can of water, but the bucket had a defective handle, and with a little effort, he might make himself a pry bar.

The noise outside had quieted, no doubt a drunken stupor had replaced the revelry. Kallaayt worked at loosening the handle. One side he wrenched free, but as he worked at the second rivet, footsteps approached his prison.

And paused outside the door.

Unwilling to relinquish his nearly-weapon, Kallaayt grasped the loose end of the handle. If he went down this time, he'd take one or two with him. He stepped as close behind the door as his chain permitted.

For several slow breaths, he heard nothing, then the faint scrape of wood on wood. His enemies lifting a bar that blocked the door? Should he try to rush them? There was a sound of a bolt rasping back, and a soft voice called, "Kall?"

A woman. Not Gwen. "Who is it?"

"Mari. Hush."

The door opened a chink and a slim figure slipped in the gap before the door closed.

Mari stood an arms length away, peering into the dark. "Kall?"she repeated.

He took a step sideways. "Here."

She turned in surprise. "You are well! I feared they had killed you."

"Not yet. But,"he rattled the chain, "seems certain persons wish to prevent me from trading."

"Certain persons wish to drag you before the bishop's tribunal in the morning, and confiscate your goods."

"I hope to disappoint them."

"You will disappoint them!"She spoke with a ferocity that surprised him.

"Mari, you risk too much."

"I have nothing left to risk! But you are my friend, and the friend of my friend, and for that..."She motioned him closer. She had a bundle in her hand. "Sit and give me your leg. I will remove your chain."

She had pincers and a small hammer.

"Let me."He would not sit while she knelt in the fetid straw.

She handed over the tools. "Do you need a light?"She produced a small lantern form the bundle.

"No need. Why alert any outside?"

"I think we are the only ones awake."

"What happened?"he asked as he began to pry up the pin that locked his ankle iron.

"They emptied your pockets while you were unconscious, took your purse and drank the inn dry with the contents."

Praise the Goddess he'd given Gwen her ring. If those sad specimens of humanity had found it...He tapped the iron again, and withdrew the pin. The iron ring fell open. He threw it as far aside as he could and rubbed his still-numb flesh.

His strength returned as he flexed his leg.

"You must go,"Mari whispered. "Now! I brought you a little food."She had a hunk of bread and a slice of cheese, both of which he devoured.

"My eternal thanks, Mari."He longed to roar, but feared he'd terrify her. Instead he asked, "Will they blame you for my escape?"

She gave a tight laugh. "I do not care if they do. What is the escape of a friend, compared to what they will accuse me of in the morning."

"It was you they abused this night."

"And I am the one they will accuse of wantonness. It is the way things are now. Go!"she insisted. "I do not want the bishop's men to take both my friends."

"You must not stay here."

"Where can I go?"

"With Gwen and me. My people will welcome a woman of your courage."And he could name at least three dragons who would vie for her hand.

She shook her head. "Kall..."she began.

He heard the footsteps before Mari did. As the wooden door flew open, he pulled her behind him as Morgan the Miller stepped into the byre.

"No!"Fear and pain laced her cry. She clung to Kallaayt, her trembling fingers pinching his shoulder.

"Ah, little Mari!"The miller leered into the darkness. "You fought me but went running to the traveling peddler. Shame on you!"He gave a leering smile. "He can watch me fuck you again. No wandering trader is taking two women from me!"

"I never took Gwen, Morgan. She was never yours!"

"And never will be yours! I've seen to that."

Debate and argument were pointless. Protecting Mari from this beast was paramount. "Gwen will never be yours, and neither will Mari."

"I've had them both first!"

Kallaayt smiled. "Why boast of your infamy, Morgan? You shame the Goddess and the woman who bore you."

"You blaspheme! The courts will deal with you!"

As Morgan stepped into the byre, Kallaayt glimpsed two others hovering outside. They thought the odds on their side, but this time he was prepared. He stepped aside, pulling Mari with him. As Morgan turned, Kallaayt's foot swept Morgan's from under him. He fell backward, hitting the hard floor with a dull thud. Kallaayt's roar echoed across the yard as the other two rushed him.

He roared again. His power surged. He caught one man as he gaped in fright, hitting him over the head with his own cudgel. The other, Kallaayt dragged back as he tried to flee, and he fell gibbering to the straw.

Morgan was rising to his feet, but Mari upended the rusty bucket on his head and as he reached up to remove it, kicked him square in the balls. As he fell with a scream, she grinned at Kallaayt. "That should save the next maid from his attack!"

Kallaayt grabbed her hand, courageous as she was, this might send her fleeing. He roared again, and shifted.

"Dear heavens!"Mari gasped.

The two not groaning, screamed. One made to scramble and run. Kallaayt blocked the door.

"Come,"he said, and pulled Mari out into the stable yard. A dog howled at the sight of him. Kallaayt ran three, four paces across the cobbles, and leapt. His wings snapped open, and he flew over the stable roof, carrying Mari with him.

In seconds they were lost from sight in the dark of the night sky. He sensed Mari's fear as she clung to his arm. "You're safe,"he assured her.

"Safe?"she repeated. "Among your people, safe must have a different meaning. We are miles above the ground!"

She was only mortal after all, and had never seen a dragon in full flight. "Not miles. We're just above the rooftops."She let out a little whimper so he pulled her closer. "You are truly safe. I will never let you fall."He headed north toward Tintawn. It was still full night. Good. Now, if only Kallauwn was near.

"Where are we going?"

"To a safe place. In the hope my scrubby young brother is there to protect you until I return with Gwen. I will not leave her among that nest of heathens."

"Scrubby, am I?"Mari gave a yelp as the dark shape came at them from the east. "Slander me, would you brother, as I wing to your aid?"

"I take it back,"Kallaayt replied. The Goddess bless his brother's wings! "Mari, meet my brother, Kallauwn. Kallauwn, meet a brave and honorable lady, who helped rescue me when I was bound by human iron."

Kallauwn winced at the thought. "I am honored, lady. Kallaayt has oft spoken of your great worth."

"You eggling, I have not! It's Gwen I spoke of. This is Mari! Another mortal of courage and virtue."

Not often Kallauwn was silent. Kallaayt relished the moment.

"I am still honored, lady,"Kallauwn said.

"As I am,"Mari replied, in a rather tight voice.

"Where is Gwen?"Kallauwn asked.

"I return for her. You must carry Mari."

"With pleasure, brother."Kallauwn grinned and held out his arms.

To pass her between them was easy enough, but might well terrify even her brave heart. "Let us land. There, in the grove ahead."

Kallauwn landed first, Kallaayt moments later, Mari shivering in his arms. She looked from him to Kallauwn and back again. "One dragon is more than I ever dreamed existed, but two!"

"There are more of us, lady,"Kallauwn said.

"How many?"

"Scores now, though once we numbered in the thousands."

She took a deep breath. "Then the tales of dragons in the north are true."

"And if the Goddess wills, will always be so,"Kallaayt said.

Kallauwn noticed her torn and bloodied clothes and the darkening bruises. "Dear Goddess! What happened, lady? Was the fight that fierce?"

"The fight was not what they expected, since Mari had freed me,"Kallaayt replied. "But she'd already suffered at the hands of my attackers."

"Seems,"Kallaayt began, "we have a story worth the singing."

"If I don't start back soon, there will be one less to sing it, Kallauwn. You must carry Mari back to Cader Bala for me. Give her into the care of the women. She is in need of Allaynne's healing."

"They harmed her!"Kallaayt let out a growl enough to wake the trees around them. "Grievously!"

"Then permit me to return with you and teach those town dwellers a lesson,"responded Kallauwn.

"I go alone. This is my quarrel."

"If I may speak!"They both turned to the small disheveled figure between them. "It would shame us all if Gwen remained in the House of Wide Open Legs because you argued until sunrise."

Kallauwn inclined his head in her direction. "Then, if you permit, lady, I will take you on your way."

"Yes,"she said to Kallauwn. "For Kall will not leave until we do, and my dearest friend awaits him."

Kallaayt marveled at her trust. At his words, she would go into the unexplored, with an unknown dragon.

Kallauwn seemed delighted at his charge. "Lady, I would bear you to the ends of the earth."

"Allaynne's cave will be quite far enough!"Better remind Kallauwn that Mari was not his. Even if he was bearing her home. "And if she isn't there before me, you can answer to me!"

Kallauwn laughed. "As you commission, brother. But promise to leave those town dwellers a reminder of dragon ire."

"They will not forget this night."

Mari took Kallauwn's hand and turned to wave farewell. Kallauwn ran several paces toward a gap in the trees. Seconds later, they were airborne and flying west.

Kallaayt hesitated no longer, and facing the opposite direction, he set back toward Llanbarra.

As promised, faithful Gwen was waiting on the roof ledge. Asleep. Wrapped in a thick quilt to protect herself and her babe.

She woke as he approached. "I heard cries in the street, and the watch calling for your surrender.

He pulled her as close as her belly permitted. "To you, Gwen, I would surrender my heart and mind, but to those heathens, never."

"I was afraid some mishap befell you."

"We had trouble, but by Mari's bravery, all is well."

"Is she well?'

"She is safe on her way to Cader Bala. In a short while we follow."

"Why delay? Will it not be dawn soon?"

"I will make early dawn, and avenge you and Mari. Wait here until I return."

"I have waited too long already. I would come with you. It is my vengeance too,"she paused. "Will you kill them?"

"No, my love. I want them to live long and remember the sting of dragon's ire, but carrying you would endanger us both. When I come back, we will away.

She nodded, but as he readied to leave, pulled him close. "As Kall, I loved you. Now as I see you in your splendor, Kallaayt, but I sensed your greatness even as it was hidden."

"Yours is the greatness, Gwen, and soon you will be among those who will cherish you for your worth."

He allowed himself one kiss. "I must away. Watch the night sky and you will see dragon fire."

She gasped as he leaped from the ledge, but he sensed her eyes following as long as she could in the dark. In minutes, he landed on the mill roof. After tonight, the smaller mill to the north would enjoy an increase of trade.

Standing tall, Kallaayt roared in warning to awaken any inside. He breathed fire along the ridge of thatch, and along each eave. In the still of the night, the flames burned slowly, but burn they would, without ceasing and without spreading beyond the limits Kallaayt set, until Morgan the Miller was dispossessed. Kallaayt left two scared apprentices running round the mill yard for buckets. He flew back to the Flowing Flagon. Bands of constables still roamed the streets. Kallaayt swooped with a roar, and they ran as they never had from Kall the trader. With a twist he flew back toward the inn. After waking all within with a chorus of roars, Kallaayt turned the roof of the Flowing Flagon into a beacon to be seen for miles around.

Let disrespectful mortals remember this night and Goddess's fire that turned the night into dawn!

He was tempted to fire the bishop's house too, but enough. The town would not soon forget this, and Karil and Morgan never. And Gwen was waiting.

She all but leapt into his arms. "You have set the town afire!"

"No sweet. Just the mill and the inn. For you and Mari."

"What happened to Mari?"

"Morgan ill-used her as he did you."

Gwen gave a little cry of anguish. "Oh, Kallaayt! I feared for her but hoped no one would harm her with me gone."

"No one will ever harm her now. She is on her way to my home. Our females are great healers. She will be well."

"Then let us go, at once. I have said my farewell to Madam Lou for her kindness."She stood up on the ledge. "Take me home with you."

With Gwen's legs wrapped around his waist, he leapt into the night air, winged toward the west and the true dawn rose behind them.

Interface

by Isabo Kelly

Isabo Kelly, a zoologist by training and a writer by passion, writes science fiction and fantasy romances including The Promise of Kierna'Rhoan and the award winning Thief's Desire. Readers can find out more about Isabo and her worlds by visiting her at www.isabokelly.com.

Gina flattened herself against the wall outside her father's private office, her fingernails digging ruts into her palm. She counted to ten, then twenty. Temper, temper! Seconds before, the sound of strange voices from within had halted her entry. The door was cracked an inch, not enough to see into the room but enough to hear the conversation. She'd paused only long enough to make sure she wasn't interrupting an important meeting. And look at the reward for her consideration! She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Gina won't like this,"her father was saying. "Getting her to agree to added security is never easy, but this..."His voice dropped. "She doesn't know about the threats. I didn't want to tell her everything."

"Is that wise?"a male voice asked.

"No. Not with her temper. But she'll just have to understand. I won't take any chances now. Not after that last message."

Threats? Messages? Gina sucked in a breath through her teeth. What in hell hasn't he told me?

"Do you have any idea who the outside source is, Mr. Xanacovich?"another male voice asked.

"I can't imagine who would do something like this."

"With Xanac Corp's ties to the initial development of detectors,"the first man said, "it could be a pro-shifter terrorist group."

Terrorists? Gina held her breath. Human groups against shifter exterminations were known to engage in terrorist activities. Had one of those taken aim at her family's company because years ago Xanac had been instrumental in developing the technology that could identify Narava's shape changing species, no matter what form a shifter took?

She could understand why shifters and humans against the exterminations feared the equipment. She had mixed feelings about detectors. She didn't at all subscribe to the views of the Shifter Research Center that painted shifters as a dangerous, parasitic animal likely to wipe out the human population on Narava if not exterminated. She was patently against the destruction of an entire species. But neither was she completely comfortable with the idea of shifters being able to be anywhere--or anything--they wanted without humans knowing. Especially if the rumors, and her suspicions, were true and shifters were more intelligent than SRC claimed.

Xanac's research had also revealed a way to scan for a previously undetectable, fatal Naravan-based blood virus, and in the end, that was the most important element to her. But would Xanac's contribution to detectors be enough to push one of the pro-shifter groups to terrorist threats?

"Xanac Corp's contribution to the development of detectors was minimal and before my tenure as CEO. Why hit our research and development team now?"Her father's voice was quiet, strained, as he eerily seemed to echo her own thoughts.

"To highlight their cause? To move interest away from this rumored guard report to a topic more immediate?"

Guard report? A series of news briefs flashed through her mind. Rumors had been flying over the last two weeks about the findings of an undercover guard concerning shifters and one of the shifter support groups. Each side of the volatile argument assumed the guard's report would support their view--either to continue the exterminations or to end them. She was hoping for the latter.

"That situation only started two weeks ago,"her father said. "I've been getting threats for a month."

"Something to do directly with the M-SID research then? The threats are to get you to stop the work."

Gina's eyes widened. Her father had told these two strangers about her M-SID work? Without coming to her first? Threats notwithstanding, he should never, ever have mentioned the micro-molecular scanning interface devices to anyone outside of Xanac. And he knew why even more than she did. Her teeth ground together.

"No. This wasn't done by anyone supporting the shifters,"her father said, closing the subject with that obstinate, "there will be no further discussion"tone that drove Gina nuts.

There was a pause, the silence heavy. She could feel a vein throbbing in her temple. She tried to relax her clenched fists. Calm, Gina. Just stay calm.

"Under the circumstances, it's best if the regular security staff don't know about you,"her father said, his voice authoritative but rushed.

"We understand, Mr. Xanacovich,"the first man said. "Discretion's our specialty."

Discretion? This was what her father called discretion? Hiring perfect strangers then telling them about her work? Keeping threats to her research a secret? She struggled to contain a string of Deven curses--she always turned to her mother's native language when Naravan or Trade curses weren't strong enough. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, trying one last time to rein in her legendary temper. This wasn't the first time her father had gone behind her back to protect her. It was, however, the first time he'd kept the reason for his actions a secret.

She rolled her shoulders, and focused on keeping her breathing steady. She would just walk quietly into the room, ask in a reasonable manner what her father was doing keeping these threats a secret from her. She could be calm and controlled when the situation called for it.

The door slammed against the wall with enough force to echo as she stomped into the office. "What the hell's going on, dad?"

Hands planted on hips, she took in her father's two guests with a scowl. The one standing was tall and muscular, his long black hair pulled back in a low tail showing a face so handsomely chiseled it was almost unreal. His hazel eyes narrowed at the intrusion. She flashed him a narrow-eyed look in return and got a raised brow in response.

The other man sat in a chair in front of her father's desk. She met a pair of deep blue eyes and it took her a moment to remember to scowl. He wasn't too handsome, not by a long shot. But he was very male. Tawny hair, strong features, wide shoulders, a heart-stopping mouth. A shiver of electricity skittered up her spine as her gaze locked on that mouth.

With a disgusted grunt, she pushed the physical reaction aside, calling up her anger. Now was not the time to worry about the faint smile curving that tempting mouth. "Well?"she directed her ire toward her father.

"Gina."He straightened in his seat, emphasizing his height the way he did when he was nervous. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd still be at the labs."

"Obviously. But I'm not the one who needs to answer questions. Why didn't you tell me you were receiving threatening messages?"

"I didn't want to worry you."Her father raised his hands, palms out, trying to placate. Gina wasn't in the mood.

"Worry me? I'm not worried! I'm pissed off. How dare anybody threaten me to get you to call off this research? You can just tell whoever it is to forget it. They think they can hurt me? I dare them to try."

She didn't miss that interesting mouth cracking in a grin. She just chose to ignore it.

"Honey, you don't understand. These aren't nice men we're dealing with here. You can't possibly..."

"And why not? I bet I've got as much hand-to-hand training as these two thugs you're hiring."

"It's not a matter of training. Self defense classes are not the same..."

"Self defense classes? I'm a black belt in karate. I can handle myself, and you well know it."

"All the training in the world can't stop an unexpected blaster shot from ripping through you."The deep, slightly amused comment came from the seated thug.

Gina turned her temper on him, but before she could launch into a satisfying tirade, her father spoke. "I don't care how much training you've had or how well you think you can take care of yourself. That has nothing to do with this situation. Haven't you noticed, damn it? You're one of the brightest women I know, and you haven't figured out yet that the others were not accidents?"

Not accidents? "What do you..."She stopped. For a moment, all she could do was stare at her father, anger dissipating beneath the shock of facts. Jesus, how could she have missed it? The rash of accidents in the last month, the injuries, the deaths...

Two of the original group, the only other two besides her and Jack Nevel who'd actually participated in the experiment, were dead. But Mira and Barry had died in a public link accident that had killed fifteen people. The other accidents...Serious injuries, property damage...All members of her research team directly connected to the experiment.

Gina's stomach flipped. It couldn't be. She had to be wrong. There was no way the accidents could be anything other than an unfortunate set of coincidences. "What makes you think they weren't accidents?"she demanded, not willing to believe without proof.

Her father sighed and signaled to the seated man. "Mr. Alexander."

Gina watched warily as the man rose and handed her a messaging pad. She stared at the fist-sized screen, looked up at her father then pressed the pad to activate the messaging recall. Five messages scrolled past, each one more graphic and threatening, each one very specific in relating the details of the events of the last month. They left no room for argument. Someone was killing off or seriously injuring her team. As she numbly read the final letter, she realized that it detailed first the death of Jack, then her own death. She swallowed hard and handed the pad back to the still looming Mr. Alexander.

"Jack?"Her voice echoed, hollow in her own ears.

"His body was found yesterday evening."

Gina looked up into Mr. Alexander's blue eyes without really seeing him. "And the M-SIDs?"She directed the question toward her father while still staring up at the mercenary.

"There's every reason to believe they disassembled when whoever's doing this tried to extract them."

"What reason?"

"The...the blood found with Jack's...with Jack contained traces of the magnesium- iron-eltranium alloy released when the M-SIDs break down."Her father fell silent, then whispered, "Gina, Jack was tortured before they attempted to extract the micro-scanners."

Her world tilted sideways. When she blinked back the blackness threatening her vision, she was sitting in the chair Mr. Alexander had abandoned. One of the mercenary's arms circled her shoulders, holding her steady. She smiled up at him, though she wasn't sure it was much of a smile. "Thank you."His tempting mouth tilted up, but his eyes were creased and serious.

"Does this mean you'll accept their protection now?"her father asked. She stared at his hands where they were clenched together on top of his desk. What else could she do?

"What's the plan?"

Mr. Alexander's partner answered. "The plan, Ms. Xanacovich, is to put out a story that you've taken ill and are being closely monitored by two of your mother's associates. We're the associates. You're mother can't get back from Neros Seven and the quarantine she's instigated there for another two weeks. So she's asked Alex and I to monitor your condition and treat you."

"Do you have any medical training?"She directed her question to the dark haired man, too aware of Mr. Alexander--Alex's--hand on her shoulder to dare looking up at him.

"Alex is a trained medic, and I can lie well if I have to. My name's Nathan, by the way, Nathan Longfeather. And this is Johan Alexander. He prefers Alex."Nathan grinned at his partner.

"So what will this plan, my being sick, entail?"Her voice was growing stronger, her nerve returning slowly.

"We'll transport you to a safe house and guard you until the person behind the messages is caught."This was from Alex, said in such a matter of fact way that she turned to gape up at him.

"But, couldn't that take awhile?"

"It could. If Nate and I weren't planning on tracking him down personally. Protecting you is only part of the reason your father has hired us."

"How long? Will I be able to continue my work? Where's this safe house?"

"Undetermined but not more than a month. No. And it's better if we don't tell you."

"A month!"She spun in her chair to face her father. "I can't stop this work for a month! The M-SIDs will disassemble in three more weeks. We'll have to start from scratch. That'll put us more than six months behind schedule. The foundation is going to want to know what we've been doing with all their grant money for the last two years."

"I'll take care of business. You take care of you. It's not just the research that's at stake here, Gina."

Her father's quiet tone deflated her outrage, and she slouched down in her chair. She didn't like it. In fact, she hated it. There was no way she'd be able to keep from working for an entire month. At least a month was the worst-case scenario. There was every chance that Alex and Nathan Longfeather were as good as they claimed to be, which meant they could find the person behind the threats and "accidents"in less than a month. God, she hoped so.

"Why can't I know where the safe house is?"she asked.

When no one answered, she sat up straighter and focused the full force of her suspicion on her father.

The silence stretched, all three men exchanging a look she had every intention of overriding. It was bad enough her father hadn't mentioned all this mess to her sooner. Her life was in danger...had been in danger for a month now! There was no way they were going to keep anything else from her. "Answer me, Dad."

Alex answered instead. "Mr. Xanacovich suspects an informant inside your research team, someone unscrupulous enough to either sell information, or someone crazy enough to carry out these threats and warnings themselves."

"Impossible!"

Her father winced and looked away from her.

She scowled. Her father wasn't being logical. Someone inside the group doing this? That didn't make any sense. He was too worried to think this through. She looked up at Alex, still hovering close to her seat, his hand resting on her shoulder. Alex was a mercenary, detached from the situation. He had to see the idea of someone inside the group doing this was ridiculous. "We do a thorough security and psychological check of all the researchers, engineers, technicians and staff before we hire them. Everyone was checked. Even I had to go through one when I started working for Xanac Corp. It's not possible someone inside the group is capable of this."

"Ms. Xanacovich, whoever's responsible for all of this knows the schedules of the staff, specifics about the habits, social life and schedules of all the members of your team, details about the research you're working on, details that only someone inside the organization could have had access to. This doesn't mean someone in your father's staff is crazed or this vicious."Alex squeezed her shoulder, a gesture she was sure was meant to reassure and comfort but was more disconcerting than his logic. "But the information is coming from somewhere."

Gina clenched her teeth together, locking her jaw in an effort not to curse. Damn it. She didn't want to believe. But how could she deny it. Her own logic was insisting Alex must be right given the facts he presented.

She looked at her father. He looked pale and worn, the lines in his face deeper than a month ago. With a shock she realized what he must have been going through for the last month, knowing his only daughter's life was in danger. Had he suspected all along that someone inside the organization was responsible for this? Had he been wondering for a month if he'd wake up one morning to the news that she'd been killed?

Her shoulders slumped. She couldn't put him through that any longer. Not now that she knew. She was going to give in to the whole scheme. Going into hiding for a month, with no work to do, knowing there was a lunatic somewhere out there threatening all the work they'd done in the last two years, threatening her father, threatening her--it pissed her off. But unless she met the culprit face to face, she was going to have to resign herself to hiding and letting someone else take care of everything. For her father's peace of mind, if nothing else.

"The files?"she asked her father. Her voice sounded flat.

"They've been encrypted and locked away. We won't give up the work, honey. It's too important now."

It was. Gina sighed, finding a measure of relief in his assurances. Knowing the work would continue made it easier to admit defeat, to accept going into hiding for a month. "All right. When do we leave? Should I pack anything?"

The hand on her shoulder clenched, a movement so quick and subtle she could have imagined it. Then the touch was gone. Her shoulder was warm where his hand had rested. "Pack light. Anything you need later can be acquired."

Her father rose and came around the desk as she stood. He pulled her into a tight, quick hug and awkwardly wished her good luck. He seemed reluctant to let her go and at the same time in a hurry to see her gone. She walked out of his office without looking back, but she called over her shoulder, "I'll see you soon, Dad."She damn well would too, very soon, if she had any say in the matter.

Gina paced the length of the corridor between her bedroom and the library in the large safe house, restless and bored. She was used to working, used to the concentration it took to unravel the biotechnological problems she and her team of engineers struggled with every day. She'd suffered four days of inactivity as silently as possible, but the wait and idleness were getting to her. She wasn't even allowed outside.

She tugged restlessly at the hem of the oversized sweater she'd been given to stave off the cold air that seeped into the building despite the climate controls. The safe house was little more than a jumble of metal boxes atop a flat space of mountain in the desolate Sapphire Range in Narava's southern hemisphere. Only the hardiest of human colonists had tried to inhabit this area of the planet. Most stayed near the temperate coastlines and the lush green ranges of the interior of the three main continents. Crystal blue-white snow covered the slopes surrounding the safe house. On the flight here, in the small on- and off-planet ship that Nathan Longfeather had piloted, the sun had sparkled across the snow like blue diamonds. And until they'd landed next to the safe house, she hadn't seen a sign of habitation.

"I don't see why I can't even go for a walk,"she groused to the empty corridor. "There's no one within a thousand kilometers of this place."

"That wouldn't hide you from a spy satellite or a high altitude craft scouring the area."Alex's deep voice startled her so much she pulled a string loose on the borrowed sweater.

"Shit."She tucked the string back into the loose weave. "Don't do that. What are you doing here? I thought you'd flown back to civilization."

"I did. I'm back now. Didn't you hear the perimeter alarms going off?"He stepped up close to her, grasped the string she'd snapped and idly toyed with it.

He was too close. Her heart started to hammer and not from surprise. "No. I didn't hear anything."Was that her voice? She was having trouble concentrating on his words. The heat of his hand seeped past the loose weave of the sweater, tingling low in her abdomen. She could practically feel his touch on her skin even through the top of her jeans. Her stomach clenched.

He frowned, seemingly unaware of the havoc he was causing her system, damn him. "I'll check the system now. You should've heard something before I deactivated the alarms from the ship when we flew in."But he didn't move away to check the system. He stayed where he was, standing too close, staring down at her, his big body still except for the movement of his strong fingers playing with the hem of her sweater.

She should tell him to step back. She should say something. She lifted one foot, put her toe down on the ground behind her, intending to move away from him. Instead she stayed where she was with her heel in the air, feeling like a magori-fox staring into the eyes of a cor- snake.

Put your foot down, Gina. Take the step back. She needed some space between them. To concentrate. Say something. Who does he think he is, playing with your sweater? Put him in his place. "Where's Nathan?"That wasn't what she wanted to say. Her voice sounded faint and breathless. Did he notice?

The curve of his fascinating mouth said he did. "He's checking the external sensors and alarms."

She wasn't sure how he managed it, but he seemed to suddenly be closer without taking a step. Had she moved closer to him? God, she hoped not! How embarrassing. He smelled wonderful--a warm, musky cologne she couldn't put a name to. What was he doing with her sweater? "Any progress?"

His faint smile turned into a full-blown grin. "I'd say so."

"I meant about finding the person responsible for the threats."Her cheeks heated, and she had to look away from that tempting mouth.

She was acting like a schoolgirl. This was silly. She barely knew him. He was too close and she needed to move back.

But it was so good to see him. She hadn't even realized she wanted to see him this much. It wasn't as if she'd been thinking about him. Well...maybe her thoughts had strayed to him occasionally over the last few days. Okay, so maybe she'd thought about him constantly. But that was no reason to get embarrassed and shy. He didn't know she'd developed a few detailed fantasies over the last few days with him in the starring role.

Did he?

They'd hardly talked on the flight in. He and Nathan had only hung around for a day and half to make sure the house was secure. She'd talked to him about what was necessary during that day and a half, but not much. A few passing comments. A lecture from him on the rules and security procedures. He was always calm, always professional, never seemed to lose his temper, even when she'd lost hers when his professionalism turned to condescension. Yes, she knew not to use the external communications system, no she wouldn't try to contact anyone, yes she would keep the place sealed, of course she'd keep the internal alarms online. How old did she look, five? He remained calm and reasonable the entire time--an attitude that infuriated her. He'd certainly never made a pass, or anything that might be confused for a pass.

They had two reasonable conversations. One a brief twenty minutes during which she dragged out of him that he had a degree in archeology and hated beets. The other when he found her staring at a newscast.

There was a riot in Capital, in the business district. A group advocating shifter exterminations met a group against them across a line of guards. The shouting and yelling escalated to throwing debris over the guards' heads, to throwing mini firebombs, to an all out riot. Three people killed, twenty injured, rioting spreading throughout the district. She hugged herself and wondered if her work would help the situation or make it worse.

When Alex walked up behind her and asked if she was okay, she told him the cause of the fight--more rumors that shifters communicated via telepathy. Alex's face closed up.

"Why does that bother you?"she asked, half afraid to know.

"Would you want a dangerous animal to be able to read your thoughts?"There was something like fear in his voice. When she turned, faced him fully, he shrugged, smiled and said, "At least they can't understand what we're thinking. That'd be worse, having your thoughts read by someone who could actually understand."

She'd let the subject drop, afraid to say more, and he'd left her to watch the rest of the riots. She had wondered after that if he'd ever worked a case involving the shifters, if there was anything personal in his view on them. But she never asked. She was afraid she wouldn't like the answer.

That was the closest they'd gotten to a personal conversation. Nothing intimate. He'd never even looked at her in any way that could be considered personal.

Well, there was that one time. She'd caught him when he didn't think she was paying attention. The look in his eyes then had nearly swept her feet out from under her and provided plenty of inspiration for her recent fantasies. But that was the one and only time she'd caught a hint of anything other than professionalism from him. Which had been pretty damned frustrating. Even arguing with him, she'd enjoy the challenge, the buzz of testing him. He, on the other hand, had seemed immune.

Then the two bodyguards had left, relegating her to the care of a few droids and her own devices. She'd been stung by a momentary rush of panic at the thought of them leaving. Up to then, she'd been able to forget about the graphic and grisly description of her death spelled out in the last message her father had received. She was disgusted with her panic and tried to hide it. But her fear must have shown because Alex paused before leaving, touched her shoulder and gave her his word he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

He assured her there was a guard near by who'd come out if she hit the panic alarm they made her strap to her wrist. The gadget was roughly the size, shape and style of a wristwatch, but the face was blank. She still wondered who the guard was and where he was hiding. She hadn't seen anything resembling a shelter out there. But if Alex said there was a guard near by, she believed him. She couldn't explain why, but she did.

Over the last three days, she'd worked hard to put both him and the threat to her life out of her mind. She'd failed repeatedly on getting him out of her thoughts, but she'd managed to push the threat to her life away. She'd scoured the computer's libraries, read a few out of date journals, an entire novel and one fascinating book on the ethics and philosophy of space travel. Outside of reading, though, there wasn't anything for her to do. And the inactivity made her feel like a captive.

The lack of company hadn't helped. Which had to explain why she was having such a strange reaction to Alex's sudden appearance. She was sure it explained the tickling flutter in her stomach and the warmth spreading over her skin. Her reaction had nothing to do with the fact that her fantasy was standing in front of her, still toying with the hem of her sweater. What was he doing with her sweater?

"We've made some progress on the threats too,"he said. "I've left a colleague behind to follow up a lead. I wanted to get back here to make sure you were all right."The hand playing with her sweater stilled. "You are all right?"

The heat already coiling low in her stomach exploded lower. Breathe, Gina. Breathe. "I'm fine. I'm bored. Can I go back to work soon?"Her gaze darted down to where his hand still gripped her sweater. For a disorienting moment, she though he might start to lift the sweater up, revealing bare skin beneath. Her gaze jumped back to his. Would he try it?

He grinned. "Soon."

Gina swallowed hard. Silence stretched between them. She felt like her balance was going, because she could feel herself tilting closer to him, the heat of his body drawing her, the tingles in her own body begging for his touch. She flicked her tongue out to wet dry lips.

Alex's voice was husky when he murmured, "Maybe there's something we can do about your boredom."

Her heart kicked over and her stomach dropped. What the hell was going on with her? She never reacted to men this way. Never. God, she really was leaning into him. She needed to move back. She still had one foot behind her, toe resting on the ground. If she just dropped her heel, she'd put some space between them. That's all it would take, a little space between the heat of his body and her tingling skin and she'd be able to think clearly.

She was a logical, rational woman--most of the time. She didn't fall for men she barely knew. This was just chemistry. He was good looking. She was bored. She could move away from chemistry. That's what she should do. Drop her heel. Move away from temptation.

He bent closer, washing her lips with the warmth of his breath, and she leaned into him instead of away. "I've been thinking about you, Gina. Probably too much for my own good. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

The sharp echo of footsteps caused Alex to jerk his head up. Gina looked past him to see Nathan Longfeather trotting down the hall toward them, blaster in hand. The disruption to whatever had been about to happen between her and Alex, if anything had been about to happen, left her feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief. She rubbed her lips together to dispel the tingles.

Alex gave her a wry grin then glanced over his shoulder. When he saw the expression on his partner's face, he moved back and pulled his own weapon, instantly serious and professional. "What's wrong?"

"Did you check the perimeter alarms yet?"Nathan's hazel-gold eyes flicked to Gina then focused on Alex.

Gina felt Alex shift beside her, not much, but enough so she got the feeling he was uneasy with Nathan's question. "Not yet."

"An area of the external sensors has been blasted out. Not subtle. And fresh. Maybe only ten minutes, twenty before we landed."

"Damn. Have you signaled BinRal?"

"He's on his way in now. We can't hole up here anymore. Plan B?"

"Yeah. I'll get her out of here; you search the interior. We'll meet in the ship. Lifting out in twenty."

"BinRal?"Nathan asked.

"I'll intercept him on the way. He should have enough time to sweep the area and still make it to his ship before we blow the place."

Gina finally found her voice. "Blow the place! What do you mean 'blow the place'?"

Alex spared her a patient and irritatingly professional look. "This house has been compromised. We have to abandon it. But we can't leave it intact. There're ways a smart person could use the computers here to track down some of our other retreats. We can't allow that."

"But... but there's someone here already. And you're only giving us twenty minutes to get away."

"Don't worry,"Nathan said, already moving back down the corridor. "We've handled situations like this before."

Alex took her arm with his free hand and led her toward her sleeping quarters. He kept his blaster raised, scanning the area as they moved. He didn't say anything while she collected her meager pack from her bedroom, only continued to scan, his big body filling up the door to her small room. "I'm ready,"she said, and they were moving down the corridor again, this time toward the external airlocks.

The frigid air stole Gina's breath the instant they stepped out of the airlock. She'd shrugged into a parka and snow boots but the sudden sharp cold of the wind bit through the heavy material. She threw her pack over her shoulder then stuffed her mitten-covered hands into the pockets of the parka. Alex had on a thin pair of gloves that didn't look like they could protect his hands from a cool breeze, though he assured her they were sufficiently warm and left him the dexterity he needed to use his blaster.

"Now what,"she asked, her breath a visible cloud. The wind blowing through the mountains announced the coming of a storm that was predicted by to the morning's weather readings. With little to do, she'd found herself checking on the weather four or five times a day, mildly fascinated by the changing shifts in atmosphere. She had to admit, though, the idea of leaving before the storm arrived appealed to her.

Alex scanned the landing area from the relative safety of the airlock's outer frame. "Now, we go to the ship, contact our associate, and prepare for liftoff."He kept his gaze trained on their surroundings as he spoke. His alert stance had Gina examining the area, too. She studied the shifting snow covering the landing pad between them and the silver and black ship, the flat expanse of snow beyond the ship before the hill sheered off into a deep valley, the rugged sweep of mountains beyond that.

Nothing. She couldn't see anything unusual. Until a huge, black shape rose up beside her.

Gina stifled a screech as Alex swung around, blaster raised. The figure stepped away from the wall, dropping the hood of his parka. Alex cursed and pointed the blaster toward the sky.

Gina blinked.

The large Binnean smiled.

At least, that's what she assumed that particular expression was when a Binnean did it. It wasn't really a comfortable expression for a human to witness. With silky black hair covering their entire bodies, long, thin noses in brown skinned faces and startling green eyes, the Binnean, despite their bulk, didn't look nearly as dangerous as they were--until they smiled.

The Binnean murmured something in a voice too quiet for her to hear but loud enough to make Alex chuckle. "BinRal, this is Gina Xanacovich. Gina, En-BinRal Ol Binda t'Clav. He's been your guard for the last few days."

"Pleasure,"she said, stretching out an instinctive hand before remembering that the Binneans had a different custom for greeting someone new. She shifted her hand to point upward, palm facing BinRal. He smiled again and gently placed a huge, brown, six-fingered fist against her palm.

"See anything?"Alex's voice cut into the greeting, turning the atmosphere serious again.

"No one. But there's evidence of a ship landing beyond the ridge where the perimeter sensors were shot out. There were tracks in the snow leading to the sensor line from the landing site. The tracks belong to a single human male. But at the perimeter, the tracks disappeared. No sign he moved back to the craft either. He could be using a glider on silent."

"Or there's at least two of them and the second one flew their ship in after the sensors were shot out. No sign of a second landing at the perimeter, so that means the ship must be small enough to hover and still pick up a passenger. AX47 D series is capable of that."

"So's the new JUP-3."

"Either way they're both too small to hold more than three people. At least we're not outnumbered."

"Unless they had another ship waiting to be signaled in after the perimeter sensors were disabled."

"Damn,"Alex breathed, letting his gaze travel over the landing pad again. "We need to leave. Now."He unzipped his parka enough to reach inside and pull out a small, flat comm.- link. He pressed an area on the card, waited a beat, and Gina heard the static laced sound of Nathan's voice acknowledging the call. "Get down here now, Nate. We can't tell what kind of company to expect."

Gina frowned, turning her attention to the valley just the other side of the landing pad. What was that? It wasn't a noise exactly. More like a vibration. She strained to hear against the peel of the wind. "Alex?"She tapped at him, without taking her eyes off the valley. He waved away her hand, still talking to Nathan. "Alex,"she said more firmly, taking hold of his arm and squeezing through the thick material of his coat. "What is..."

Before she could finish her sentence, a small white-blue ship rose up from the valley. Except for the cloud of hot air escaping from the thrusters, the ship blended perfectly with the background. In fact, if she hadn't been watching, she might have missed it. It hung silently for an instant. Then a bolt of white light lashed out from the laser cannons beneath the ship's hull.

The sleek, silver and black ship on the landing pad rocked with the force of the impact.

"Goddamn it."Alex raised his blaster but at that distance, he couldn't come close to hitting the attacking ship. BinRal raised a huge blaster cannon from somewhere--inside his parka?--and aimed at the ship. His first shot skipped across the top of the hull, deflected by a shield. The laser cannon fired again, this time melting a black hole across the top of Alex's ship.

Still cursing, Alex shouted into the comm-link, "Nate, bring secondary shields up on our ship!"And BinRal fired another shot. This one sizzled the shield on the attacking ship, but didn't come near the hull. "Get inside, now!"Alex shoved her back into the airlock just as another shot slammed into his ship. The secondary shields crackled as they absorbed the shock, turning an unhealthy shade of green. "Shit, they're not gonna hold. What the hell is that ship firing?"

"I don't know,"BinRal answered, calmly aiming his shoulder cannon for another shot. "But I'd like one."

The last thing Gina saw before Alex and BinRal dragged her into the airlock was the orange flame that erupted when the shields on Alex's ship buckled under the onslaught. The airlock sealed, a steel door banged down, and Alex was shouting into his card again. "Terminate destruct sequence. We've got serious problems here."

Nathan's voice came back out of the card, clearer now that they were inside the house. "Destruct sequence terminated. Auxiliary defenses coming online."There was a slight pause then, "Fuck! They've destroyed the ship. Looks like we move to plan C."

"What happened to plan B?"Gina asked as they strode down the corridor, back toward the interior of the house.

"Plan B just got blasted all to hell by that blue ship."

"Oh."

Nathan stepped out of the control room to meet them. All of the equipment used to monitor the area, the house, the landing pad, and the weather was located in the single room.

"Tunnels?"Nathan asked Alex. The dark mercenary's face was a blank mask. He'd sounded as angry as she'd ever heard him over the comm-link, but now he was emotionless and all business. Nathan was scarier this way. She flicked a glance at Alex and had to suppress a shudder at the ice in his eyes. "How far away is your ship?"Alex focused on BinRal, but she could see his mind ticking through their options.

"Two kilometers beyond the perimeter sensors. But it'll be difficult with the storm approaching. The tunnels won't get us near enough."

"Biosuits?"Nathan suggested. "We've got three in the tunnels."

"Three?"Gina felt her throat closing up.

BinRal smiled. "I'm from a hearty clan, Ms. Xanacovich. We're adapted to cold that humans would consider severe."

She nodded, trying to swallow past her panic. Her ears felt strange, blocked, like she was underwater. The sound around her faded until she was listening to their voices through a wall. She clenched her jaw, trying to pop her ears without much success.

"Are the biosuits necessary?"she murmured. When no one responded, she tried again, louder this time. "Alex, are the biosuits necessary?"

Three pairs of eyes focused on her. "Yes. Storm's too dangerous without them."

"No."She straightened her shoulders and sound came rushing back.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I can't wear one."

Alex's face stilled, his features losing all expression. "Can't? Or won't?"

"Can't. I can't. There has to be another way."Her gaze skipped over the faces of Nathan and BinRal before settling on Alex. "My father didn't tell you that part, did he?"

"You tell us."

She took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand over her eyes. "Remember the remains of the things, the M-SIDs, that were... in Jack Nevel's blood? They're micro-molecular scanning interface devises, M-SIDs for short. They were part of an experiment conducted by our team."

"Your father filled us in,"Alex said impatiently, cutting her off with a sharp hand gesture. "The M-SIDs interface with biosuits. You, Jack and the other two, Barry and Mira, had these micro-molecular scanners injected into your blood stream. A biosuit activates them. We understand. And when we started, we didn't think biosuits would be necessary. They are now, so you're gonna have to deal with it."

"You don't understand."Gina tried to keep her voice even and calm, despite her rising panic. "The experiment had unforeseen side effects. Trust me on this, you do not want to put me in a biosuit."

"I thought these things were just like sensors, scanning your biochemical state and feeding it back to the biosuit."Alex moved closer to her, gently taking hold of her shoulders. She could barely feel his touch through the thick material of the parka.

With a deep gulp of air, she looked him in the eyes and said, "They induce telepathy."

His breath came out in a whoosh, and he dropped his hands.

She looked down so she wouldn't have to see the expression on his face, knowing already how he felt about telepathy. "It's not a natural state, and it didn't happen to all of us. Only Mira, Jack and myself. Barry didn't have any reaction. But because it's not natural, we can't control it. I think it's amplified, too. From the research we've done, natural telepaths don't...experience the same things the three of us did."She took a stuttering breath. "If I put on a biosuit while the M-SIDs are still in my bloodstream, I'll be able to read your minds. I won't be able to block it, or ignore it, or control it. We've been trying."

The silence around her was a physical pressure, and she felt something inside her give. "You have to understand, finding sufficient funding for micromachine and nanotech research has been harder to come by since humans exchanged interstellar drive systems for Binnean molecular scanning technology. Our work was mostly theory and speculation until the Farseaker Foundation gave us a grant."

A hiss of breath made her glance up. Nathan was scowling, fingering a spot on his chest, beneath his shirt. She frowned but continued her explanation. "They gave us full funding for three years. It was a dream come true, but it also gave us a very tight schedule. We tried to take every precaution. We ran a million computer simulations and droid experiments. But the time came when we had to run human trials or risk running out of money before the work was finished."

She wrapped her arms around herself, cold despite the parka. "To reduce legal risks, we decided to use volunteer members of the team first. If the trials were successful, we could move on to volunteers outside the lab. We had to bring my mother in to monitor our medical condition during the trials in order to get my father to agree to let me participate. And everything was fine. At first."

Her voice dropped off and silence filled the corridor. She had to look up to see if the two men and the Binnean were still there. Nathan and BinRal looked thoughtful, concerned. But she could tell Nathan was already running through alternatives to the biosuit option. Ever the professional.

Alex, on the other hand, looked shaken, confused and very angry. She'd never seen him so close to losing control. After what he'd said to her while she was watching the riot, she knew he hated the idea of anyone being able to read his thoughts. Now she was telling him she could. So much for chemistry.

An alarm sounded from the control room. Nathan, with BinRal on his heels, pushed between her and Alex. Alex remained in the corridor, staring at her.

"How could your father let you do that to yourself?"

"It was my choice. I knew there were risks, and I was more than willing to take them. I still am to see this work completed. But the risks shouldn't have been this severe. We were worried about the M-SIDs malfunctioning and making the suit produce too much heat or cold or try to increase our oxygen or nitrogen levels too high. Something along those lines. We never considered that the M-SIDs might interact with our physiology. They're just supposed to scan."

"The ship's firing on the building now,"Nathan called from the control room. "Small controlled bursts aimed at the doors. Fortunately, they're not trying to bring the place down on top of us."He appeared in the doorway. "But the defenses aren't going to hold out forever. We have two choices. We can run or we can fight. Without the perimeter sensors working there's no telling how many of those ships are out there."

Alex looked at the floor, silent for so long, Nathan said, "Alex?"

"Are there any other side effects,"Alex said, looking up at her, indecision evident in the creases on his brow. "Physically, will you suffer in any way?"

"I'll have a killer headache when the biosuit comes off. Until then, I'll be physically better off than you. But I've never had the suit on outside of the lab, or for more than twenty minutes. I don't know what will happen with prolonged exposure."

He hesitated again, staring at her. "If we stay and fight, we risk losing you. Your father hired us to protect you."

"He also hired us to protect what you're carrying."Nathan's voice was quiet, directed at Alex more than her.

"We have another alternative,"BinRal said. "I could go for my ship while you hold out here. We could rendezvous near a tunnel exit."

"You wouldn't have any backup,"Alex said. "You won't be able to contact us once we're inside the tunnels."

"Alone, I'll move faster. I'll have a better chance of reaching the ship unnoticed."

"Sounds like the best plan D, Alex,"Nathan said just as another alarm sounded from inside the room. Nathan ducked inside, reappearing an instant later. "Defenses still holding, but we're running out of time."

Alex hesitated a moment longer before nodding. "BinRal, we'll meet you in three quarters of an hour at tunnel G. We'll hold here for as long as we can so you can contact us if you need to. They may be scanning link frequencies, so use the secure channel and code."

BinRal turned and disappeared down the corridor without a word. Alex continued to stare at her with an expression she couldn't read. She stared back, not knowing what to say.

Nathan broke the silence. "Alex, I think we need to talk."

"Later."Alex took her arm and started down the corridor. "Keep an eye on things outside, Nate. We'll be back in a minute. Buzz me if there's an emergency."

From behind her, Gina heard Nathan mutter, "What the fuck do you think this is, Alex, a party?"

Alex ignored the comment, tugging her along until they were out of sight and hearing range. Then he turned on her. "Why didn't you tell us about this sooner? Something this...this big is important to know if we're going to keep you safe."

Gina shrugged and leaned against the corridor wall. "I assumed dad told you I couldn't use a biosuit. The telepathy part is classified. Neither of us was supposed to discuss it. No one outside of my team and my parents know about that side effect. My father's even kept it from the board of directors. We're trying to work out a way to control the reaction, temper it."

"Why? Why not just eliminate the effect, like any other bug?"He leaned a shoulder against the wall next to her, putting him close enough that she could feel his heat along the entire right side of her body.

She turned her head so she could look at him. "That was our original intention. Who would willingly use technology that opened up an unwanted, and to tell the truth, disorienting and painful new sense, which couldn't be controlled? Then one of the team pointed out how dangerous this could be in the wrong hands, this ability to hear other people's thoughts."

"And that didn't make you more determined to eliminate the bug?"

"It probably would have if the conversation had stopped there. It didn't. We wound out the possibilities for hours and then someone mentioned the shifters and the rumors that they communicated via telepathy, and wouldn't it be great if our technology allowed communication with them."

"Communicate how? Why? They're just animals. Dangerous animals."

"Some people would argue that point with you,"she murmured.

"You?"

"Me."She lifted her chin, met his gaze. The topic was so volatile it wasn't something to discuss lightly. She was trusting him more than logic said she should just by telling him which way she leaned on the issue. But since she was already trusting him with her life, a part of her knew she could trust him with this. Even if, on a personal level, it drove him away.

She shook her head, raised a hand palm open. "Whether the shifters are dangerous or not, whether they're telepathic or not, this technology could give us the ability to finally answer some of the questions. If it can be controlled."

"Can natural telepaths read thoughts as easily as you can with the microscanners and a biosuit?"He was leaning closer again, his voice low.

"From what I understand, no. The few we've been able to find and interview, anonymously, said they never realized they had this trait until they met another telepath. They might hear a passing thought or murmur that didn't seem to be their own, but most wrote those off as imagination. Even with another telepath they don't seem to be able to communicate well. None of them could do what Jack, Mira and I did. Fortunately for them."

"Without the suit on to interface with the M-SIDs, they remain inactive?"

"Yeah."

Alex sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Why haven't you removed them yet?"

"We tried, but they disassembled on removal. Another bug. Until we work that part out, we decided they were just as well where they were."

"So without a suit on, you can't read minds?"

"No."

"Probably a good thing."

Alex's blue eyes darkened to a stormy gray, and Gina had to suck in a breath. He didn't look angry now. "Why's that,"she asked before she could stop herself.

"Because you'd probably run screaming if you knew what I was thinking right now."

"I doubt it. I don't scare that easily."

He grinned, and Gina shivered inside her too warm parka as much from relief as from the lure of that grin. "You're a fascinating woman, Ms. Xanacovich. I'd like the chance to get to know you better when all this is over."

He leaned close and Gina held her breath. The touch of his lips against hers was feather light and so temptingly brief she moaned.

"God, Gina, don't do this to me now."

"Me?"Her eyes fluttered open. "What am I doing?"

"Driving me insane,"he growled, his voice thick and rough. Then he kissed her again, hard, pulling her shoulders around so that her body was pressed against the length of him. His kiss kept every promise his mouth had been making since she'd first laid eyes on him. Just the feel of his lips firm against hers, his tongue sweeping hot temptation into her mouth, made her dizzy. How much better it would feel if they got rid of the damned parkas. She reached up to the zip of his jacket, but when she would have tugged, Alex broke the kiss and set her at arms length.

His breathing was ragged and harsh. He closed his eyes and took several deep, slow breaths. When he opened his eyes, he said, "I just broke a rule I've lived by for years. But I've wanted to kiss you since you first stormed into your father's office spitting acid and fire. Now isn't the time. But later, when the job is finished, you and I will get back to this."

He wasn't asking. He was promising. She nodded, her heart hammering.

He dropped his hands from her shoulders and gestured back toward the control room. "We should get back to Nate."

She followed silently back down the corridor, her brain reeling. If they survived this, she intended to take him up on his promise. If they survived.

As they rounded the corridor, Nathan came pounding out of the control room. "Move it! They're breaking through the outer locks."

Alex grabbed her hand and raced down the corridor. Nathan followed, blaster raised, scanning the halls as they retreated to a part of the house that Gina hadn't been able to explore thanks to the complex system of locks and checks installed. Alex swept a lock with his comm- link, pressed his palm to a prints and DNA scanner and looked into the needlepoint light of a retinal scanner. The locks clicked off and the door hissed open, revealing a steep spiral of metal stairs.

"Down,"he ordered her then held the door until Nathan had passed into the dim stairwell.

Motion sensor lights flicked on as they moved lower. The walls of the stairwell were cut from the mountain, flickering blue-gray in the passing light. They hit the bottom of the stairwell and turned down one of the six corridors branching off from the small circle of ground at the base of the stairs. Nathan pulled a small tube from the pocket of his parka and shook it. The corridor flashed to bluish visibility, the roughly cut stone of the walls wavering with shadows.

"Three of the six corridors are lined with a titanium alloy and fitted with motion sensor lighting,"Alex murmured to her, urging her into a quicker walk with a light touch to her back. "The other three are unlit, roughly cut. All lead to a different part of the range."

"Won't they see the light?"She nodded at the tube over Nathan's head.

"Door sealed behind us. By the time they get through, we'll have passed through too many turns."

"Unless they skip subtlety and blow the door off,"Nathan muttered from ahead of them.

"It can take a lot of fire power before giving,"Alex said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, but her thoughts had skipped ahead, finally pinpointing something that had been fidgeting at the back of her mind, "How'd they find this place?"

Alex and Nathan exchanged a look over her head. Her gaze narrowed, but before she could question them, an explosion rocked the walls of the corridor, raining a fine mist of blue- gray dust over them. "There goes the door,"Nathan said without emotion.

"Keep moving."Alex squeezed her shoulder again.

She was officially worried now. But something was still nagging at her logic. "The guy you left behind, he was trustworthy?"

"He wasn't the one that gave away our position."

Stunned by the utter calm in his voice, she said, "You know? You know how they found us."

"We leaked the information."

"What?"She spun on Alex as her voice echoed up the corridor.

"Quiet,"Nathan hissed, before grabbing her arm to pull her along.

She jerked her arm free and held her ground, the full brunt of her glare focused on Alex. When Nathan grabbed at her a second time, Alex warned him off with a look.

"We have to move, damn it. Now. They'll have heard her shout. If they've got a triangulation scanner, they already know which tunnel we're in."

Alex ignored Nathan. "We did what we had to do to draw out the inside man on your team. We ran up against some serious walls and safeguards that we couldn't bypass."

"You were only there three days! You didn't even warn me."

"We didn't expect them to beat us back here."

"So I'm going to be tortured and killed because you didn't expect them to be quick."

"Nothing is going to happen to you."He stepped close, brought his face down to hers. "Nothing. I swear it."

Gina blinked at the fire and determination in his look. All of her outrage drained away.

"Let's go."This time she didn't resist when the two men urged her on. They picked up speed. She had to jog to keep up with them.

Disoriented by the wavering tunnel shadows and the quick pace, Gina kept her head down and concentrated on moving. When they reached the end of the tunnel, it startled her.

"Now what,"she asked, struggling to catch her breath.

Nathan stepped to one side of the tunnel and pressed a spot on the rock. A hologram disguising the tunnel exit fell away, revealing a metal door barely large enough for the men to get through and a Plexi-sealed room with six biosuits hung on the wall. Dim light filled the cavern.

Gina blanched at the suits.

"We'll only use them if we have to,"Alex murmured, close to her ear. "We'll hold out here for BinRal if we can."

"Storm's hit,"Nathan said from a small computer console near the door. "We won't last long out there without the suits."

"Only if we need them. Nate, check the tunnel."

Nathan disappeared the way they'd come, and Alex moved to the console.

"What are you doing?"She moved up behind him.

"Setting the auto-destruct. We've got fifteen minutes before the rendezvous with BinRal. Whether he's here or not, we'll have to leave."

"How much time are you giving us to get away?"She wrapped her arms around herself, warding off the cold seeping through the walls.

"Twenty minutes."

"Is that enough time if BinRal isn't here in fifteen minutes?"

"It'll have to be."

"You may as well turn that off."

At the sound of the new voice, Alex spun, blaster raised, a strong arm pushing Gina behind him. Nathan stood with his hands up, a blaster to his head, half blocking the figure behind him. The woman in front of Nathan, however, stood in full view with a wicked looking weapon pointed at Alex's chest.

Gina choked on a curse and clenched Alex's free arm. "Mira?"

The woman smiled. "Hi, Gina. Surprised to see me? I'm afraid only Barry made the train that day. Lucky me. Thanks for that shout, by the way. Made Louis's job pinpointing the tunnel easier."

Gina felt her lip twitch with a snarl. All her shock and fear were buried under outrage as she watched a woman she'd trusted point a blaster at Alex. She tried to step around him, but he held her in place with one hand, never taking his eyes off Mira's face.

Mira laughed, a light, relaxed sound. "Gina, that temper of yours is going to get you killed."

On a good day, Mira was an attractive woman, maybe a little small, a little too skinny, but she was an exceptional engineer. Until that moment, Gina had liked her and considered her a friend. "You want to try it, Mira? Put that blaster down and face me, and we'll see who gets killed."

"Face you in hand to hand? You really do think I'm stupid. I heard that in your thoughts, you know. How highly you rank my intellect compared to yours."

"Is that what all this is about? You think I insulted your intelligence?"

Mira's face lost all trace of emotion. "I'm paid too well to take this personally, Gina."

"By who and for what?"Gina tried to move around Alex's arm again but it was like trying to move a steel post.

"Influential and rich people. Because you should have eliminated the telepathy bug in the M-SIDs."

"Another corporation?"Alex asked.

"This is bigger than corporate war. The uncontrolled spread of telepathy through the populous would cause chaos."

"Government?"Alex's question made Mira's mouth twitch.

"Influential and rich,"she repeated. "In a position to make sure this telepathy doesn't get out."

"You got rid of your M-SIDs?"Gina asked. She pushed at Alex's arm again, testing. He didn't budge.

"I don't have to now."Mira tilted her head. "You should have encouraged your father to sell the technology when he had the chance."

"Why would I want to do that?"Gina's gaze danced to Nathan and the man, Louis, standing behind him. Louis was watching the scene, smiling slightly, ignoring the mercenary. She made brief eye contact with Nathan, watched his head shake almost imperceptibly in warning. She ignored the warning and dodged in front of Alex before he could stop her.

Mira jerked the blaster toward her. "Stop."

"Why? You're going to kill me anyway. I'd rather die fighting than let you subject me to the torture you described in those messages."

Mira's brown eyes slanted. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Gina,"Alex hissed. Taking a step toward her.

She ignored him and focused fully on Mira's confusion, moving so Mira was between her and a potential shot from Louis, but so that she was blocking Alex from Mira's blaster. "The messages my father's been getting. Detailing the accidents, the torture and death meted out to members of the team."

"I don't know about any messages. And stop moving or I'll blast a hole in your chest."

"If you didn't write the messages, why are you here?"

"To collect on payment due me. I deliver you to my well-funded associates, they hold you for ransom and your father calls off the research. Simple. And I make a lot of money."

"Your associates aren't going to ransom me, Mira. They're going to torture and kill me."

"Gina."Alex's voice was a growl now.

"You don't know what you're talking about,"Mira snapped.

Gina saw that stubborn look come into Mira's eyes. Recognized it from too many late night arguments in the lab. She switched tactics. "Do you still hear it?"She dropped her voice to a murmur. "That first time, the sounds of so many voices in your head."

"Shut up. That has nothing to do with this. I'm being trained. I'll never have to suffer that way again. There's a lot of money available to the properly trained telepath."

"This is all about money for you? You can just ignore the killing?"Mira's stubbornness was one thing, but Gina couldn't understand the woman's willful ignorance. The more she refused to accept the truth, the angrier Gina got. "Didn't you hear about Jack? How your employers tortured him before they killed him? No easy train wreck for him."

Mira's blaster wavered. "He probably deserved it,"she spit. "He probably didn't cooperate. That's all you have to do, Gina. Cooperate and nothing will happen to you. They're just going to keep you until your scanners destruct and your father agrees to their terms. That'll be the end of it."

"You can't believe that? Not after Barry and Jack."Gina moved another step forward, keeping Mira's body between herself and Louis. "And what use will you be to them when your scanners destruct?"

"We've already altered that part of the program in my M-SIDs. After all, I was the one that wrote the time-limited destruct algorithm."

"Damn it, Gina,"Alex hissed, "get out of the way."She sensed his movement behind her but didn't dare turn away from Mira.

Louis shifted his blaster from Nathan's head, aiming at Alex over Nathan's shoulder.

"I wouldn't try anything funny, Mr. Alexander,"Mira warned. "I wouldn't want to have to kill her. Drop the blaster. Now or I'm taking her leg."

Gina heard the clatter of metal against the stone floor behind her. Mira smiled.

"Feeling better now, with both men unarmed?"

"I'll feel better when you shut up."Mira steadied the blaster, clicked it to a high stun setting and aimed.

Gina prepared to take the shot. It was going to hurt. She couldn't avoid it. But maybe she could give Nathan and Alex a chance at Louis and Mira. She balanced on the balls of her feet, smiled at her former colleague and lunged.

She tried twisting aside as the blaster bolt arched toward her, but the shot caught her arm and sent her spinning. Air exploded from her lungs. The shot stole any control she had of the lunge, but her momentum slammed her into Mira. They crashed to the floor, Gina a numb heap on top of the struggling woman. She could feel the press of the blaster against her side, even through the parka, but she couldn't move to defend herself.

The last thing Gina heard before she blacked out was the sound of her name echoing off the walls.

Gina? Come on, baby. Come back to me. That's it. Good, girl. You can do it. The litany ran steadily and comfortingly through her mind as she struggled through the blankets tangling her brain. The first thing she noticed beyond the voice was the strange taste of the air. After a moment, she felt the gentle pressure of sensor pads pressed against her pulse points. The sound of wind raged around her, but it was muted and distant.

She was in a biosuit, outside, in the middle of a blizzard.

She opened her eyes and launched herself upward. No, you don't. A firm hand eased her back down. "Gina? Listen to me, honey. It's Alex. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

She blinked against the white-blue snow and turned to focus on him. He was wearing a biosuit, too. They were out in the middle of what looked like a snowfield in a pocket at the side of a mountain. There was no sign of the tunnel, Mira, Louis, or Nathan. "What happened? Where's Nathan?"

I can't believe you did that to me, and now all you can think about is Nate. "He's fine. He's with BinRal, and they're on their way. BinRal's ship was sabotaged. That's why he was late."Damn, but I need to kiss you. If you ever do anything like that to me again, I'll wring your neck. "As for what happened..."

Gina frowned, slowly realizing she was hearing a lot more than he was saying out loud. "I can hear your thoughts,"she whispered, not sure whether the mike in her suit would pick up her voice. It must have because his expression shifted to a different kind of concern.

"I thought you might. I wasn't sure. I was hoping the scanners wouldn't activate so quickly."

"Only takes about thirty seconds. And I'd love to kiss you too, but lifting the visor in this weather wouldn't be wise. What happened to Mira and Louis? The house?"

His thoughts came at her in a tumble of emotions and images that she couldn't sort through and was embarrassed to try after the first few rather graphic images formed. But his thoughts of sex were easier to take than the deep emotions churning in him.

"I disarmed Mira after you were stunned. Nate had to kill Louis. Unfortunate, since we could've gotten information from him."He shrugged. "We didn't have much time. There were more people in the house, so we had to get out and blow it fast."I wasn't letting anyone else near you. "We put you in the suit to protect you from the weather and the worst effects of the stunner shot. The destruct was down to five minutes by the time we were ready to go."I almost killed that bitch for shooting you. "We tried to get Mira into a suit to bring with us. We were hoping to pump her for more information. She gave us a bit to go on,"thanks to you, "but I suspect the one orchestrating all of this will disappear now."There's no place he'll be able to hide from me. "Mira started screaming when we tried to put her in a 'suit. Went berserk and ran back up the tunnel. She didn't have time to get out before it blew."And even if she had, I'd have killed her eventually.

"Am I still in danger?"Gina frowned as she tried to sort through the chaos of his spoken and unspoken comments.

Not while I'm around. "I doubt it. The person or people that bribed Mira don't know what she's told us so they can't risk coming after you again."I'll eat them alive if they think they can hurt you.

"So, I'm safe as long as you're around?"

"Yeah. You are."

"Then, just exactly how long are you planning on being around?"

"You can read my thoughts? You tell me."

She closed her eyes, searched through the chaos of images and words, half phrases and feelings. When she found what she was looking for, she opened her eyes and smiled. "That long, huh?"

Alex smiled back.

Through The Woods

by Ellen Edgar

Ellen Edgar grew up among the haunted castles and cottages of England, where her love for tales of romance with a touch of magic was born. She is coauthor of The Dragon's Horn, a romantic fantasy adventure. Readers may learn more about Ellen at her website http://hometown.aol.com/msellenedgar/index.html.

"No way will I fall in love again,"I said.

Jinx regarded me gravely, then went back to grooming his whiskers with one sleek paw.

The cat and I sat on the back doorstep of our home, a log cabin that looked out over a stretch of rough grass to the woods. I was troubled, wondering if I was wrong, wondering if the solitude I'd valued for so long was truly a good thing. It must be, I told myself. It would be impossible to write if I lived under the constant pressure of other people's needs.

Jinx yawned, stretched, and sauntered off across the lawn to curl up under the picnic table. From a low branch of the maple tree, a black-capped chickadee cocked its head as the cat passed beneath. A crow that had been digging in the grass cawed indignantly and flapped away to perch on the clothespole. Jinx ignored both of them.

I wished I could ignore my mother's chiding as easily. It drove her crazy to think of me holed up with a half-feral cat in a tumbledown cabin that used to be somebody's summer place. Yesterday, Mom had spent an hour on the phone, patient, gentle, and utterly implacable. I should find another husband, move into a nice suburban colonial, start raising kids. I lost sleep over the call, but that was all she'd accomplished. No way was I getting married again. One painful failure was enough.

Tired and grumpy, I sighed and scrambled up from the step. A walk in the woods might help get rid of my blues.

There was nothing within miles of the cabin, except for one brooding, barn-like place with a humped roof, which someone--a long time ago--had built in the meadow that borders the woods. Even in summer, when the tourists flock north, the house remained unoccupied. The ugly building lurked at the edge of my territory, and I felt a creeping sensation along my spine every time I caught a glimpse of it, especially at dusk, when it resembled a crouching beast. As usual, I avoided it and followed a trail that went in the opposite direction.

The path was narrow, thick with rotting leaves, and I scuffed my feet, releasing the moist, loamy smell that reminded me of greenhouses. Overhead, a blue jay flashed from branch to branch yelling, "Eeee", and another answered it from somewhere far off. The hollow whir of a woodpecker's hammering sounded high up in a dead tree. The world and all its troubles faded and I felt at peace.

I'd almost reached the pond when the back of my neck prickled as if someone were watching me. I stopped and looked around, but there was nobody in sight. The feeling persisted. I told myself there was probably a deer, vigilant and wary, peering from a thicket, and I walked on, shrugging off a faint unease.

At the edge of the pond, I slumped down on a fallen log. Trees whispered and branches rubbed and creaked in the wind, blending with the gentle lap of water. I closed my eyes and dozed in the dappled April sunshine. Through a dream, I heard a child's voice calling. Heavy and drugged with sleep, I opened my eyes to a sunlit dazzle.

"Ma'am?"

There really was a child. She must have crept up noiseless as a shadow, and she stood at my elbow, looking at me through a fringe of silken blonde hair. I blinked and stared. She couldn't have been more than eight years old, and as far as I could tell, she was alone. And we were in the middle of the woods, a mile from the nearest road.

"Are you lost?"I asked.

She looked down and scuffed one small sneaker in the dirt. "No, ma'am."

She was little and delicate, wearing the usual kid's uniform--blue jeans, puffy pink jacket, white T-shirt with a gaudy, multicolored design. In one hand, she clutched a flop-eared toy rabbit with ratty white fur and button eyes. It looked old and grungy, but her fingers made little stroking movements through its fur, and I could tell it was a favorite.

She gazed at me shyly with haunting blue-gray eyes. "Ma'am, will you come with me?"

"Come where, honey?"

"To my daddy. I'm scared."

I hesitated. There was something about this child that drew me to her and kindled emotions I didn't want to recognize.

She tugged at my sleeve. "Please, ma'am. He's hurting."

"All right, I'm coming."I pushed myself up off the log. "Has he had an accident?"

She didn't answer. Already, she was scampering back along the trail. I stumbled after her, still only half-awake. The narrow path twisted so I lost sight of her, and I wondered if she was real. Or was I still dreaming on the tree stump by the pond? Then I caught a glimpse of neon-pink through a screen of new-leafed honeysuckle, and I struggled to catch up.

At the place where the trail divides, she shot a quick glance over her shoulder, as if to make sure I was still with her. Then she darted along the path toward the monster house. I had a nasty premonition, and I was suddenly wide awake.

"Have you come from the big house in the meadow?"I called. "Is that where your daddy is?"

"Yes, ma'am."

My steps faltered. I couldn't go into that house. Not to face a strange man. Especially in a situation that had frightened his daughter so badly she'd run away to find help. And it struck me then: How could she have known I'd be there, deep in the woods? Anxiety shaded into fear. I wasn't going one step farther until I had some answers. I suppose she heard me stop, because she turned and looked at me questioningly.

"Won't you tell me your name, and what's happened to your daddy?"I asked.

"I'm Jenny Rayne, and my daddy's name is Jim."Her voice caught on a sob, and she hugged the little rabbit against her chest. "He's going to kill himself, and it's all because of me."

I gasped and reached out for her. "Oh, sweetheart, of course it's not your fault."

She evaded me and turned to run again, and I went after her, my mind in chaos. If the child was right, we were in trouble. I didn't know how to deal with a suicidal man. If he were intent on destroying himself, I wouldn't be able to stop him. And what if it was already too late? Dear God, I thought, please don't let it happen. Don't let him do this to her.

We came to the edge of the wood where an old wire fence marked the boundary of my property. Most of its strands lay rusting on the ground, half-buried in decayed vegetation, but it had always represented an insurmountable barrier to me. Jenny halted in front of it, trembling.

"What is it, honey?"I asked.

"I have to wait here,"she said. "Please don't tell Daddy I told you about him."

I couldn't force the child to go with me, but it didn't seem right to leave her there. Common sense told me I should take her back to my cabin, phone for help. But it would take so long, perhaps more time than her father had. Jenny gazed at me, her face pale and full of trust, a little ghost of a child who should have been at play with her friends, not crushed by the terrible burden of her father's despair. My heart went out to her, and I knew I couldn't go back. I drew a few long, deep breaths and stepped over the fence.

And minutes later, I was standing at the Raynes's back door.

* * *

Close up, the house looked sturdy and built to last, its wood siding stained a weathered dark gray. The door stood ajar, and I knocked tentatively. There was no answer. I knocked again, harder. Still no one came, and I shied away from the thought of a man lying in his blood somewhere inside. I blew out a panicky breath and pushed the door open. It moved stiffly, old hinges creaking. I crept inside and found myself in a big, dim kitchen. A man stood at the farther end of the room, and his cold voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

He had to be Jenny's father. He had the same fine blond hair and blue-gray eyes. He must once have been muscular and handsome, but now he had the look of a stray dog, half- starved and savage. In one hand he held a stubby black pistol pointed at the floor, his fist clenched, knuckles bone-white, on the grip.

I wet my lips and gulped and stammered twice before I forced the words out. "Mr. Rayne? I just heard you'd moved in here. I'm your neighbor, Beth Hawthorne, from the little cabin about a mile from here."

An expression of distaste flickered over his face. "This house is not fit for visitors, Ms. Hawthorne, and neither am I. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

I indicated the gun. "Were you expecting trouble?"

"I was cleaning it,"he said curtly.

"Were you?"

I hadn't meant to sound so accusing. He looked at me sharply.

"Look, Mr. Rayne--"I began, but he cut me off.

"You look, Ms. Hawthorne. I don't care what you've heard or where you heard it. I came here to get away from the neighbors and the do-gooders, and all the other nosy, interfering folks who think they know what's best for me."His chin jerked up and his voice rose almost to a shout. "Well, you don't know a damn thing. You don't know what it's like to lose your love, your reason for living."

There was no answer for that, but I tried. "I know how much it hurts when a marriage fails. It's happened to me. It's happened to a lot of people."

He snorted and shot me a scornful look, his mouth twisting into a travesty of a smile.

I said gently, "Mr. Rayne, were you planning to shoot yourself with that gun?"

"That's none of your business. Just get out of my house and leave me alone."

"What about Jenny?"I blurted. "Don't you care what it would do to her?"

He strode toward me. "What do you know about Jenny?"

I flinched, expecting a blow. It didn't come. His face went utterly blank.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to kill myself. You made sure of that with your very obliging reminder of what I owe my daughter."

He hurled the gun away from him and it skittered across the floor past my feet to slam into the bottom of the stove. I jumped back and he laughed, then he pulled a handful of bullets out of his pocket and tossed them after the gun. They rolled crazily over the warped linoleum, and with a sense of unreality, I realized the weapon hadn't been loaded.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and deadly. "Now get the hell away from me. And don't even think of coming back. Next time you might not be so lucky."

* * *

I fled across the meadow, my gaze fixed on the fence as if it were the Holy Grail. Halfway there, my foot caught in a tangle of weeds and shaggy grass, and I went sprawling. For a long moment I lay winded and sobbing for breath with the scent of mud and bitter vegetation in my nose. Then I dragged myself up. My hands smarted and my knees felt bruised, but I forced myself into a jog, desperate to reach the sanctuary of the woods.

There was no sign of Jenny. I called out, waited, called again, but she was gone. Perhaps she'd walked across to the house during the shattering interview I'd had with her father. His bitter words hadn't been fit for a child to hear, but if she had been listening, she would at least know he wasn't going to kill himself. Well, I'd done my best. It was out of my hands.

Jinx came to meet me when I reached the cabin. I picked him up and buried my nose in the soft fur of his back. For once, he didn't struggle out of my arms; he purred and pushed his head against my face.

I brewed a cup of chamomile tea, but it stood untouched while I paced and fretted about Jim Rayne. He was so hurt, so bitter. Was his wife dead? Was that why he'd planned to kill himself? I couldn't believe he'd be so cruel as to leave Jenny an orphan. I recalled the pain of my husband's betrayal--so fierce, so unrelenting, that I'd run away and buried myself in the cabin. Maybe I wasn't so different from the tortured man who'd rather die than go on living without his wife.

But he had so much to live for in his daughter. I pictured the two of them, grieving in the ugly old house, and I knew I had to go back. Somehow, I had to help them.

I put my jacket on and went out into the garden. The afternoon was calm and bright, and I took time to gather a handful of daffodils. The perky yellow flowers might bring a little sunshine into that dingy kitchen. Jinx ran ahead of me as far as the tree line, then he disappeared into the brush and I was on my own.

At first I walked the trail briskly, but gradually my steps slowed. I reached the fence and stood looking toward the house. The roof humped up against the sky and windows gleamed dully like hooded eyes. The place was as eerie and forbidding as a witch's lair. And who knew what would happen when I approached the grief-crazed man who lurked inside it.

A cloud passed over the sun and a chill little wind riffled the grass and died away. I shivered and hunched deeper in my jacket. The woods were utterly still. No bird called, no small creature rustled in the undergrowth. But something was watching me. I had a wild fancy that the trees were dryad-haunted, and I spun around, eyes wide. There was a flash of color in the shadow of a giant oak, and my pulse leapt. But it wasn't a wood sprite, just a little girl playing hide-and- seek.

"Jenny!"I blew out a breath. "Lord, you made me jump."

"I didn't mean to scare you,"she said. "Are you going to see my daddy again?"

"Yes, honey, but I'm not sure if I should. I think he wants to be left alone."

She put her toy rabbit into my hand. "Give him this. He won't be mad if he knows I sent you this time."

I put the little toy into my pocket. "Will you come with me? You shouldn't be out here all alone."

"Oh, I'm all right, ma'am. I love the woods."

I smiled at her. "So do I, but don't stay out too long."

"Only till the sun goes down,"she said. "I promised to be back before it gets dark."

I brushed the soft hair off her face and kissed her smooth forehead, then I stepped over the fence for the second time that day and went on my way.

* * *

Jim Rayne wasn't holding a gun when he came to the door, and the rage had gone out of him. He looked beaten and haggard, and he led me into the kitchen without a word. I set the daffodils down on the table and stood there, uncertain what to do. He was so dejected it broke my heart. I held out my arms to him. For a moment, he just looked at me. Then he took a hesitant step, and a harsh groan tore him. He came into my arms and buried his face against my neck, and I stroked his hair and whispered endearments, until gradually the tension went out of him. His arms tightened around me, and we held each other quietly as the old house creaked and settled, and the sun tracked down toward the west.

* * *

The kitchen was very quiet. While I searched through cupboards full of old crockery for a jar to put the daffodils in, Jim sat at the table watching me. His face was tranquil in the soft light filtering through the dirt-streaked windows. He still looked pale and tired, but he seemed content. A skinny spider, all long, hair-fine legs with a tiny, speckled body, scuttled from under a pile of dishes, dropped to the floor, and dashed across my feet. I let out a small shriek and jumped. Jim grinned.

"My wife would have screamed bloody murder if she so much as set eyes on a critter like that,"he said.

"What happened to her?"I no longer felt any fear of him, and the question had been nagging at me since our first meeting.

"She was killed in a riding accident. Her horse fell trying to jump a wall."

"Oh, it must have been awful for you,"I murmured, feeling inadequate in the face of such a loss.

I went on with my search and in back of one of the cupboards I found a crystal jug. It must have been beautiful, but now it was fogged, its facets dull. I carried it to the sink and filled it with water. It would do nicely for the daffodils.

Jim leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the flowers as I arranged them in the jug. "I thought I'd go crazy without her. But having my girl, my little Jenny, saved me."

"How old was Jenny when it happened?"

"Just turned three."

It must have been almost five years ago, I thought, surprised. So long, yet his grief is as raw as if it happened yesterday. How he must have loved her.

The mention of Jenny made me hope she would be home soon. I didn't like her being out alone with dusk coming on, but perhaps she'd come in already. She was as quiet on her feet as a little mouse, and she might have crept in while I was talking to her father. She would be hungry after all that time in the fresh air. Was there anything for her supper? I thought of the casserole sitting in the fridge back at my cabin, plenty of food for three people.

Jim's chair creaked, breaking in on my thoughts. He rose and pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Would you like to see a picture of her?"he asked.

I expected to see his wife's face, but he handed me a photo of Jenny in her pink coat, holding her shabby rabbit and grinning at the camera.

"She's such a love,"I said, smiling. I remembered the toy in my pocket and pulled it out. "She said to give you this, so you wouldn't be mad at me for coming back."

Jim looked from the rabbit to me, then back again, and his face turned ashen. He opened his mouth, but no sound came. He sank back onto the chair as if his legs had lost all their strength.

"Jim!"I said. "What's wrong?"

"Jenny... she said she'd send someone to love me,"he whispered.

And suddenly, I knew. He'd never had any intention of leaving Jenny. He'd been going to join her.

I said, "Oh, Jim,"and I put my arms around him again.

"I've lived with this for months. It seems like an eternity,"he said. "Jenny and I were on our way to this house. My grandparents lived here and I spent all my summers with them when I was a boy. The place has been shut up for years, but Jenny was so eager to see it."

He sighed and shook his head. "She never got here. There was an accident--my fault. I'd been driving all night, and I was tired. I must have dozed and the car went off the road. Jenny was terribly injured, but by some fluke I was barely bruised. Oh God, Beth, I have never felt so guilty. At the hospital, when my precious child was dying, her only thought was that I'd be lonely without her."

I felt tears welling in my eyes, but I kept them back. He didn't need any more tears. I held him close and rested my chin on the top of his blond head.

"Where was she?"he asked.

"In the woods. She was at the boundary fence when I came here this evening."

"If I could just see her one more time...know that she's happy."

I drew in a sharp breath. "She said she promised to be back before dark."

He shot from the chair and grabbed my hand, and in seconds we were racing across the meadow. The sun was almost down, just a crescent of gold glinting through the trees, making the woods a place of slanting, shafted light and pools of shadow. For an instant, we saw a dazzle of pink coat and shining blond hair, and a small hand waving. Then she was gone.

We stood at the rusted fence for a long time. Jim gazed at the place where she'd been, then he let out a ragged breath and murmured, "Thank you, my little love."

He turned to me and took my face in his hands. "Is there a chance she was right? Are you the one who will love me, Beth?"

I looked at him, my eyes widening with the joy of sudden realization. Maybe it was too soon to say that what I felt for him was love, but there was something warm and tender budding deep down inside me.

"Perhaps we could take the time to find out,"I said.

And the sound of a little girl's laughter echoed softly through the woods.

Smoke and Mirrors

by Donna MacMeans

Donna MacMeans is by day a mild-mannered accountant, at night, an impassioned writer of romantic suspense, historicals, and paranormals. Although she is unpublished in novel- length fiction at present, she hopes that situation will soon reverse.

"Hey Tom, we're all heading over to the Blue Moon after work. Join us?"

Jealousy burned in Amber Wilson's stomach. Pretending not to hear the friendly banter outside her office door, she stuffed papers into her satchel for later review. Don't invite the fat girl, she thought to herself. She doesn't have any feelings.

Laughter and hurried footfalls of the five o'clock exit shook her office walls. At one point, Amber thought someone had hesitated outside her door. Her spirits lifted in hopes that one person, just one, might stop and ask her about her plans for the weekend, maybe care enough to invite her to join the others.

But the footsteps continued past, the hallway fell silent, and she remained alone. An all too familiar lump of anguish settled in her throat. Tears threatened. One would think she'd be used to rejection by now. She'd certainly had enough practice. She silently packed up work to finish at home.

July heat radiated off the wide downtown sidewalks, making the short walk to the parking garage a stroll through Hell. Hesitant to merge into the crowd of perspiration-soaked workers, Amber sought the path where the pavement joined the buildings and a thin line of shade lingered.

Just as a rivulet of sweat slipped down her back, an unexpected current of chill air wisped over her shoulder, luring her toward an antiquities store's open doorway. Basking in the escaping air conditioning, Amber studied the contents of the display window.

"You see something you like?"

She glanced over to a withered old man leaning heavily on a cane just inside the doorway. At least, she thought it was a man. The body had no womanly attributes but the voice carried a husky feminine note, lending it a strange, seductive quality. He wore a faded turban that in another lifetime might have been a brilliant red.

"I was just looking at the rings,"Amber said with a quick glance back to the window. The man had to be a hundred, if he was a day.

"These rings, not for you,"he said, gesturing her inside the shop. "Come in. Come in. I show you something special."

She hesitated, trying to remember if she had ever passed this window display before. Stores like this didn't just appear overnight. Eventually, curiosity and the promise of relief from the heat carried her across the store threshold.

"Gaudy rings not for fine young fingers."The strange man wove a path through dusty display cases filled with odd crystals and twisted figurines. His cane bumped several teetering stacks of leather-bound books. Amber, following the circuitous route behind the old man, dragged her finger across one of the books, uncovering gilded lettering and liberating a tiny cloud of dust. She sneezed, sending more dust into the air. So much for the overnight theory, she sniffed, searching for a tissue. Dust like that takes years to accumulate.

The old man rummaged beneath a glass counter. His faded turban bobbed erratically with his search. Amber paused to admire a collection of clear glass orbs of various sizes. Paperweights, she supposed. The jumbled eclectic collection in this place could take hours to explore. "Lynn would love this stuff,"she murmured, deciding to bring her best friend back for a visit.

"I found it."He called, barely straightening his rounded spine. The edge of a flat wooden box poked from beneath his arm. "This is your namesake,"he said, with a reverent smile. "Come see."

The box opened with a stubborn creak. Amber stepped closer. There, on an inviting bed of black velvet, lay an amber amulet encircled by deep burnished gold.

"How did you know my name was Amber?"Her fingers darted out to touch the semi- precious stone.

"The necklace told me. Try it on."Before she could press for details, the heavy pendant dangled before her, light dancing in the deep golden shadows.

"Something's trapped in there."She peered closer in the dim light. "A bug or something."

"Or magic,"the little old man whispered, drawing out the word. "Try it on."

She slipped the chain over her head. The pendant settled between her breasts, resting on the thin linen of her blouse.

A sparkle lit the man's eyes. "It feels right. Yes? Like it belongs?"

"Like it belongs,"she repeated softly. A faint light shimmered within the heart of the stone, not unlike the recently revealed gilded lettering. She sensed the stone was awakening, as if it had a life of its own. "How much?"She asked, bracing for the inevitable haggling.

The old man stared at her, his eyes two bright specks in a creased and worn face. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Twenty-eight dollars,"he declared.

Surprised and delighted with the unexpected low figure, she immediately fished for her wallet. "Do you accept credit?"

"Cash."

"I'm not sure I have that much."She opened her billfold. "I haven't made it to the bank yet."She counted out the green bills on the counter. "Twenty. Five. Six. Seven . . ."Her billfold was as empty as her social calendar. "I'm sorry...unless you can take a check, I don't think..."

He pursed his lips then pointed to the purse hanging on her shoulder. "This?"she asked, lifting the straw bag. A distinctive jingling rolled to the lowest corner. She scooped up the loose change. Three quarters, four nickels, and exactly five pennies.

"How did you know?"

The old man gathered the coins from her hand and swept the bills from the counter. "The necklace told me."

* * *

Back in her apartment, Amber flipped on the television for noise, then posed in front of her bedroom mirror. Her new necklace captured the light from a nearby lamp, making it dance within the stone. An excellent purchase, she decided with pride. Wait till she wore it to work. For once, the other ladies would be green with envy. Her gaze swept up to her smiling face and died. Who was she kidding? Who would be jealous of her? Little piggy eyes buried in a fat, fat face stared back from the mirror.

"I wish I was thinner."Her words tumbled out on a breath of longing.

The faint glow burned brighter within the amulet. A plume of exotic, musky smoke oozed from the back of the pendant and soothed over her skin like a gentle embrace. Sandalwood, she thought, lulled by the hypnotic scent. The seductive smoke teased her nostrils an instant before it filled her airways with a choking grip. In a panic, Amber struggled across the room toward the phone, gasping for air, but only inhaling more of the spiced vapor. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't...

She fell unconscious onto the bed.

She dreamed of a man, one with the rich exotic fragrance. He welcomed her with open arms and eyes that burned with desire. He wanted her, just her. She thrilled to his warm, smoky touch. He leaned close for a kiss. She pursed her lips in eager anticipation. But before his lips touched hers, he whispered with a multitude of voices, "Less filling, tastes great."

Amber's eyes pried open to the chant of a beer commercial blaring from the television. She glanced at the clock: two hours had passed. Man, she must have been out cold. She couldn't even remember lying down to take a nap.

"I need water,"she said, finding the sound of her voice reassuring. Slipping her feet over the side of the bed, she felt a gentle thump slap her chest. Oh yes, the amulet. She'd forgotten about that.

She shook her head, hoping to clear the remnants of the dream, then stumbled to the bathroom sink. After splashing cold water on her cheeks, Amber filled a cup with water and brought it to her lips. She glanced up to the mirror and gasped.

She had cheekbones! The cup fell into the basin splashing its contents down her front, but she didn't care. Raising her hands to the sides of her face, she traced its sculpted structure. Her eyes loomed larger and brighter than ever, her lips full and moist. She quickly surveyed the rest of her body. Her breasts rose more perky than ponderous. Her waist narrowed in a definable curve, her hips...My God! She must be at least two sizes smaller.

She had to still be dreaming. No one loses weight that fast. Yet another splash of cold water didn't change the reflection. Her gaze settled on the amulet. Could the necklace have done this? Was the old man serious about trapped magic?

She dashed to the phone.

"Lynn? It's Amber. You have to come over. Right now."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you when you get here. Hurry."

"I'm in the middle of my last hair cut. It shouldn't take long. Give me an hour or so."

Amber paced the small apartment, checking her reflection in every available mirror. Yep, still thin.

After the tenth visual confirmation, she pulled open her rarely used makeup drawer. Now that she had cheekbones, why not emphasize them a little with blush. And her eyes...she dusted a bit of color across the lids and a thin streak of liner at their base. Her pupils shimmered a vibrant green. Incredible! The doorbell rang. She smoothed on a bit of lip-gloss and ran to the door.

"Okay Am, what's the big...WOW! Look at you!"

Amber pirouetted in front of her friend. "What do you think?"

"What did you do? You look great. When did you start wearing makeup?"

So it wasn't all in her head. If Lynn could see the difference, others could too. She slid her hands up the sides of her face, lifting the heavy mass of her hair. It was all so exciting.

"You know, you have such a pretty face, "Lynn said with a slight narrowing of her eyes. "Why don't you let me do something with your hair? I mean, you've worn it long ever since high school. Don't you think it's time for a change?"

Amber checked the small mirror by the front door. A shorter look might accentuate her new slender face. Now that she had sculpted cheekbones, maybe she should flaunt them. "Do you have your stuff?"

"It's down in my car. I'll be back in a jiff."Lynn spun on her heel as if granted the mission of a lifetime. "Why don't you pull out one of the chairs in the kitchen, we'll cut it there. If you have a sheet, we can use that as a cape."

She paused by the front door and looked back with a grin. "You don't know how long I've waited to get my hands on your hair. Once I'm through with you, you won't recognize yourself!"

* * *

"I'm good, if I do say so myself."

Amber just nodded in approval. The stylish image reflected in the hand mirror left her speechless.

Lynn smiled, obviously pleased with her handiwork. "I think we should go out and test your new look."

"Geez, it's already nine-thirty. Where could we possibly go?"

"The place I have in mind is just starting to warm up."Lynn pulled her out of the chair. "Come on, it's Friday night. Let's go have some fun."

* * *

Music blared, lights flashed, the dance floor in the center of the club writhed with sensuous, undulating bodies. Amber nursed a drink in a dark corner feeling uncomfortably conspicuous. The last time she had shown this much skin, she had been six months old, lying naked on her mother's quilt.

Although she had expected to need a drawer full of safety pins to keep her fat-girl clothes on her much slender body, everything in her closet fit perfectly. All part of the magic, she assumed, running a finger over the amulet. She had refused to remove it, even if it didn't go with her outfit. In the privacy of her bedroom, the black leather vest worn over bare skin had looked downright sexy. But now familiar fears of rejection drove her away from the bright lights and into the dark corner.

"Are you hiding?"A man's deep voice by her shoulder caused her to turn. "Are you in need of rescue?"

"No, I..."Her breath caught in her throat. From the lock of hair that drifted over his forehead, to his deep compassionate eyes and wide accommodating chest, he was gorgeous. A tremor of excitement tingled up her spine. No man this good-looking had noticed her before. She said a mental thank you for her transformation. "I was waiting for my friend. She's out on the dance floor."

He placed his mouth near her ear. "Then why aren't you out there with her?"

His warmth breath stirred her inner ear, triggering nerve endings like a fireworks finale. Goosebumps raised on her arms from the intense pleasure. "I'm not much of a dancer."

He leaned back and surveyed her slowly from top to bottom. "I don't believe it."

Amber gulped the remains of her drink needing to relieve her suddenly parched throat.

"Show me,"he challenged.

She accepted his outstretched hand in a daze. Whether caused by the sudden rush of alcohol or the seductive lure of his attention, she couldn't tell. But if he quirked his finger, she suspected she would follow him anywhere.

She spotted Lynn on the far side of the dance floor and tried her best to imitate her friend's movements. Soon her hips and shoulders dipped with the rhythm of the music. She felt slinky, flirtatious and amazed she could pull it off.

Her dance partner moved around her with ease. Just a whisper between them, their bodies moved in unison but never touched. The air separating them fairly crackled with merging auras. She sensed every delicious inch of his body. Unnerving at first, the sensation soon grew flirtatious, then downright intimate. She savored it all.

"I'm Todd."He said at a break in the music. "We never really introduced ourselves. I'm Todd. Todd Fletcher."

"I'm thirsty,"she replied, trying to catch her breath. "Do you mind if we took a breather?"

"Not at all."He led her to a table in a quieter section of the club, ordered some drinks, and slid in next to her on the bench seat. "So tell me, Thirsty, why do I feel like we've met before?"

She laughed. "My name is Amber Wilson."

"Ahh...That explains this necklace."He hooked his finger beneath the chain, letting his knuckle lightly tease the sensitive skin near her collarbone. "It's very beautiful."

"Yes,"she replied, enthralled by eyes that made her the center of attention. Her heart fluttered. She was instantly tongue-tied. Hiding in a dark corner, or in an office for that matter, was so much easier than trying to converse intelligently with such a devastating man.

"Tell me about yourself, Amber Wilson,"he coached, his knuckle gently gliding up and down the chain, brushing her exposed skin. No man had ever seen so much of her cleavage, much less caressed it. She leaned slightly toward him, wanting more of the simmering heat that spread from the track of his knuckle to the very tips of her toes.

With some expert prodding on his part, she found her voice. They talked about work, music, and college experiences. He worked with computers. She crunched numbers. Both jobs had similar struggles but also intriguing differences. She imagined she could drift into an easy companionship with Todd, if not for that spine-tingling sexual undercurrent that made her ache for less dialogue and more physical contact.

Across the room, Lynn waggled a finger and pointed toward the exit.

"My ride is leaving. I've got to go."Amber pulled back slightly, hesitant to break the connection.

"I can see you home. You don't have to leave just yet."Todd's brows lifted to his hairline, reminding her of a lost puppy begging for a treat. She melted inside.

She watched his lips, wondering about their taste. If she stayed a little longer she felt sure she would know. Liquid heat surged inside her demanding an outlet. Would a kiss quell the forces building inside? So many parts of her hungered for a man's touch. She leaned forward to initiate a kiss, however, her amulet hit the table with a clunk reminding her of the enchantment.

What was she thinking! Todd could only see the slim, trim woman he met at a club, not the real Amber Wilson, not the fat Amber Wilson. How long before the princess turned back into a toad? Would he be interested then? She doubted it. Lifting her hand to his, she detached the chain from the crook of his finger.

"Don't go,"he said. "We've barely met and I want to know more. Stay a little longer. Please?"

Already she mourned the loss of his touch. She looked toward the door. Lynn was gone. She'd have to leave this very minute to catch her.

"Tell you what--I'll take you home right now. We can talk some more on the way."He reached for her hand. "I'm just not ready to say good-bye."

"Neither am I."The words slipped out, but she knew what she had to do.

"I've got to go."She bolted across the floor.

"At least give me your phone number,"he called after her.

Several people turned and looked her way. Still, she ignored Todd's request and continued after her friend. Better for him to remember her thin than fat, she reasoned while wiping a tear from her cheek.

* * *

The next morning Amber physically explored her body with her hands before chancing a visual confirmation in the mirror. Although her new haircut had been squashed from the previous night's restlessness, and her face had lost its cosmetically enhanced sheen, she was still slinky. It hadn't been a dream. She grasped the necklace and squeezed, wishing now that she had accepted Todd's invitation.

She used the morning and afternoon to do a little cleaning and run some chores, all the while daydreaming about what could have been if she hadn't deserted Todd. She even managed to forget about her modified appearance in the supermarket, until she carried in the groceries at home and caught her reflection. She busied herself around the apartment, pretending the twenty-four hour mark wasn't soon approaching. At one minute past six, she rushed to the mirror.

Relief crashed into her with so much force she could barely stand. Amber flopped onto the couch and studied the amulet. How long would the magic last? Could her transformation be permanent? She never would have dreamed that the loss of a few pounds could make such a difference in her outlook, in her life.

Amber reached for the phone wanting to share her good news, then hesitated. Who to call? Lynn had a date and no one else had witnessed the big change. Disappointment nagged at her. Even twenty pounds lighter, she was still alone on a Saturday night.

She grabbed her car keys from the kitchen table and headed out the front door. Distraction. That's what she needed. Steering her car toward town, she veered into the parking lot of a video rental store. So what if she was alone? She'd been alone most of her life. There was nothing wrong with her that a soppy movie and a big bag of buttered popcorn couldn't cure.

She took her time reviewing the selections and narrowed her choice down to the last copy of a new release. Just as she reached for the movie, another hand reached over her head and snatched the DVD off the shelf.

"Hey!"She whirled around to confront the rude interloper. "Todd!"

"Did you want to rent this movie? Too bad."He turned and walked away.

She followed on his heels. "What are you doing here? Do you live close by?"

He ignored her.

"Look, I'm glad you're here. I'm sorry about last night."He wouldn't stop so she grabbed his arm. He spun back to face her.

"I really had a good time."Her smile withered at his glare. "I wish I hadn't left so abruptly."

"I'm not some pervert you couldn't trust with a phone number."His words hit her hard, but the pain in his eyes hurt her worse.

"I know that--that's not why I left. I was afraid of--"She paused, unsure how to explain about the spell.

"Of me."He finished.

"No!"

He stared at her from beneath lowered eyelids. She shifted her weight uneasily.

"If you want to see this movie,"He challenged, holding the blue and yellow case just out of her reach. "It's going to cost you more than your phone number."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't live far from here. If you want to see this movie, you'll have to watch it at my place."His brow lifted with the dare.

She hesitated, fingering the chain that supported the amulet.

"Figures."He slumped and turned toward the cashier. "If you don't trust me enough to give me your phone number, I shouldn't have expected you to come to my apartment. Good-bye, Amber."

"Wait!"She looked out toward the parking lot. "Can I follow you in my car? I'll bring the popcorn."

His slow answering smile raised her heartbeat more than a cardiovascular workout.

* * *

Todd's apartment was masculine in its total deprivation of personality. Other than a wall-sized entertainment system, his decor consisted of a decorative beer stein and a poster of a classic sci-fi movie. He had explained last night that most of his income supported an elaborate computer system tucked away in his bedroom.

At least, he had a comfortable looking couch facing the television in the wall system. Amber supposed that's all they really needed to watch the movie anyway.

She followed Todd to the kitchen to nuke the microwave popcorn, while he retrieved a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge. He popped the disk into the video unit and settled on the couch, inviting Amber with a pat on the cushions beside him.

With that small invitation, she snuggled next to him, drinking in his delicious body heat. Her cheek rested on his soft cotton T-shirt. With each breath, she pulled his scent deeply into her lungs. She smiled, soap combined with a vaguely familiar exotic fragrance.

The movie soon forgotten, they fed each other popcorn, laughing while they tried to toss it into each other's mouth. Half the bowl of starchy kernels soon surrounded them on the cushions and floor. Todd placed a puffed kernel between his teeth, leaning toward her like an athlete looking to pass the baton.

She laughed, shaking her head no. He pulled her closer, stroking her stilled lips with the delicate morsel. She accepted his offering as well as the kiss that followed with a greedy eagerness. He tasted of beer, salt and corn, but also of hot, moist lust. His tongue probed her lips for entry and she obliged, wanting to both please and be pleased by him.

She eased backward until she lay on the couch, thrilling in the strangely satisfying pressure of his weight. Her hands slipped under his shirt and explored the muscular stretches of his back and shoulders. Mesmerized by his myriad stimulations and her own intense needs, she lost track of his hands, until a sudden release around her chest signaled his talented fingers had indeed been busy. She pulled back for a breath.

"I'm jealous of this necklace."His hand slid around to her chest where he toyed with the heavy stone.

"Jealous?"

"It rests right where I want to be."He pulled her shirt up, exposing her breasts to his manipulations. She arched her back to give his tongue greater access. Waves of pleasure coursed from the tip of her nipples clear to her toes. A delicious warmth pooled between her legs. She ached to feel his flesh pressed hard against hers.

He drew back, pulled his shirt off and smiled. "God, you're beautiful."

She practically choked. She was the smart one, the funny one but never the beautiful one. It was all the spell, the magic. Todd was making love to a false image. If he could see her as she truly was, he'd never have invited her to his apartment.

Amber glanced at the top of his head as he worked his lips down her stomach toward her belly button. This wasn't right.

"I've got to go,"she said, pushing at his shoulders.

"Oh no. You're not running away from me again."As if to prove his point, he slipped a hand up the leg of her shorts and explored beneath the elastic. She gasped. The tactic almost worked.

"No silly. I need to go to the bathroom."To think, but she didn't mention that. "Could you let me up?"

She hurried down a short hallway, then carefully closed the bathroom door behind her. She ran cold water in the basin and splashed her cheeks. Clear your head. It's not you he wants. He's never really seen you. She glanced up at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"NO! Not now!"

It was back, all the fat and extra pounds. She glanced down at the amulet still nestled between her breasts. It couldn't be! Was there some time limit to the magic?

"Is something wrong?"Todd asked from beyond the door.

Her plump cheeks had returned. A quick inspection confirmed her ample hips, thick waistline and full bosom had followed suit. She grabbed the amulet, shook it, then repeated, "I wish I was thin. I wish I was thin."

But there was no tantalizing smoke, no dizzying sensation, just the hiss of running water.

"Amber, are you all right?"

How could she face him now? How could she explain? "I'm fine,"she lied. "I'll be out in a minute."

What to do? What to do? One look at her and he'll probably have her out the door as well. She turned off the water and rehooked her bra, carefully hiding all the offensive flesh under her T-shirt. With a deep breath, she braced herself, then opened the door.

He stood waiting; his face twisted in what could only be pity.

"I was beginning to worry that I'd scared you away again."His lips twisted into a sad smile. "If you think I'm rushing things, I can try to slow down a bit."

"I knew it."She recognized rejection when she heard it. "One look at the real me and you're not interested."She brushed by him, hoping he wouldn't notice how she struggled to keep her voice even.

"Not interested! What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this."She swept her arms away from her sides. "I'm not thin anymore."

"Of course you're not thin. Where is all this coming from?"

"Look at me."Her voice broke. "Can't you see the difference? Last night I was beautiful, and tonight I'm--"

"Even more beautiful,"he finished for her. "I don't know why you're so upset. Sit down for a minute and we can--Where are you going?

She headed for the door. "Home."

"Amber, wait!"

She was already out the apartment and heading for her car. How dare he lie to her. She saw the evidence in the mirror. She wasn't beautiful. She was fat. Everyone knows handsome, sexy guys do not make passes at fat girls. She swiped at the tears trailing down her cheeks.

Amber didn't bother going home. Instead she drove to the antiquities shop. There had to be a way to make the magic last. The shop was closed. Permanently. A sign on the door announced a new shoe store would soon open in the spot. The storefront itself looked like it hadn't been inhabited for years. If she didn't have the physical proof around her neck, even she would have doubted a viable store operated there yesterday.

Fortunately, the car knew the way home as tears blurred her vision and raw emotion destroyed her concentration. She pulled into her parking spot, dashed to her front door and fumbled for her keys. The place was just as she had left it, even though she herself had physically and emotionally changed. She glanced over to the mirror in the front room.

Her cheekbones were back! She ran from room to room, mirror to mirror. Each image reflected a thinner face, a slimmer body.

"Amber?"Todd's voice called from the doorway.

She stepped out from the bedroom. "What are you doing here?"

"I followed you. You were so upset, I wasn't sure you'd get home safely."He stepped toward her. "Is there anything I can do to make things better?"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the large mirror in the bedroom. "Look in here and tell me what you see."

"Soft, silky hair; lively, intelligent eyes; sweet, kissable lips."

"I'm serious, Todd."

"So am I."

"Can't you see I'm twenty pounds lighter in this mirror?"

He looked from the mirror's reflection back to her. Her breath caught waiting for his verdict. His brow knit in confusion. "Twenty pounds lighter than what?"

She fought to keep the frustration out of her voice. "This mirror shows a thinner version of what I saw reflected in your bathroom mirror."

Amber glanced at their reflection and saw the light in the amulet swirl, almost a wink. Suddenly, she recognized the enchantment. No wonder her clothes fit, she had never really lost any weight. The spell affected her mirrors, not her body. She was never beautiful, not even with the help of a little magic.

"Look at me. I'm a fat cow."The constriction in her throat made speaking almost impossible. "You don't have to lie. I know now what I am."

He took her hand. "Then you know that you're funny, and smart and someone I want to know better."She turned away but he guided her face back to his. "Dammit woman. Don't you know your eyes make me believe I can leap tall buildings in a single bound?"

She smiled in spite of the tears streaming down her face.

"See. No one else thinks I'm funny."He let go of her hands just long enough to wrap his arms around shoulders and pull her to his chest. "Believe me,"His breath warmed her ear. "I have no inclination to run out and hug cattle. But you--"He squeezed her tight and kissed the top of her head. "This feels so right, having you in my arms."

"Don't let me go,"she said, her voice muffled by his shirt and chest.

"Honey, I'm not making that mistake again."

His chest bounced with a soft chuckle, jostling her cheek. She smiled, squeezing her eyes tight to stem the flow of tears. After a few moments, he pulled back and tilted her chin up to his.

"Now what is this nonsense about twenty pounds?"

"It doesn't matter anymore,"she said, pleased to realize that it truly didn't. "I thought I had lost some weight but it was all smoke and mirrors."

She ran her hands up the sides of his chest, feeling his solid existence. Her eyes met his. "But this...this is real and true. At least I pray it is."

His lips lowered to hers. "Amen to that."

A thin trail of smoke issued from the back of the amulet...

To Call the Moons

by Megan Sybil Baker

Megan Sybil Baker is an award-winning science fiction and fantasy romance author who also is published under her real name of Linnea Sinclair. Her latest books include An Accidental Goddess and Command Performance. Readers can reach her through her website at www.starfreighter.com.

This he knew with unwavering certainty: he would kill her before the next full moons rose.

A thick canopy of interweaving branches tattooed the sky overhead. Light from the setting sun barely trickled through. Within the hour, Alith, the first moon would rise. An hour after that, Takin would ascend. Neither full yet; not for another three days. Torrin didn't need to glance upward for confirmation. He knew. Just as he knew the rain before it fell and the wind before it whined through the timbers. He was one of the damned; a full-blood Chalith, mage-line. Moon-kin.

He watched the woman a few steps in front of him tilt her head, scenting the river he'd known ten minutes ago was there. Not for the first time he wondered if she were Chalith-ar; soiled-blood moon-kin. In the two days since they'd fled Frothborn's prison, there'd been a handful of occasions she'd commented on something he'd not thought she'd be able to sense: the presence of a dark-eyed calflet, thin and shivering and all but invisible in the underbrush. A patch of ripe glowberries, their lack of scent in direct contrast to their full, sweet taste. She read the land. Not as well as he did, of course. But she read it.

He'd convinced himself that that was what intrigued him about her. Perhaps he'd work a lineage spell on her before he slit her throat.

"There's a river ahead, guardsman."She pointed through the trees. The heavy, pitted shackle on her wrist glistened dully. "We could stop for a meal, fill our water gourds."

He made a pretense of looking around for enemies. As expected, there were none. Had there been, he'd have sensed their presence before they could even make out the lines of his tall form, or catch the muted glint of the metal clip that bound his hair at the nape of his neck. But for her, and his mission, he continued to play the bumbling, greedy guard she'd been able to bribe to gain her freedom. "If you think it's safe."

She shot him a narrow-eyed glance, her lashes dark, smudgy shadows against the paleness of her cheeks. A ghost of a smile played across her mouth. Torrin waited for the haughty retort he knew would follow; retorts he had almost come to enjoy. He wasn't disappointed.

"A tree sprite or two may intrude, perhaps. Don't worry, city-soldier. I'll not let them harm you."

He did his best to appear affronted, straightening his shoulders, adjusting the thick sash of his scabbard. "A City Guardsman has no fear of tree sprites."

She pushed against a low hanging branch, ducked under it and laughed softly when it snapped back against his throat. "Mayhaps you should. 'Tis often little things, quickly dismissed, that in the end trip us up."

He granted her that. His Chalith blade was less in length than the palm of his hand. Spellbound, it didn't need to be more in order to wield its immense power. More than one fool had misjudged the tall man with only the small blade as protection, finally in death understanding the mistake.

It would be the same blade he'd use to kill her, three nights from now. For by then he would know the truth behind her request for a Calling, and she would know what he was. For that last reason, he could not let her live.

The river's banks were wide, rocky. He kicked a space clear of stones in order to build a fire, aware that she'd removed her cloak and rummaged through her pack. Alith's light was clear and bright without the trees' interference. The moon's power surged through him. Perhaps that was why, for a moment, he gazed with an open hunger at the small woman measuring a few handfuls of dried beans into a battered metal pot.

Had she not been born a gutter-thief, she might well have been called beautiful. He didn't need to be Chalith to see that.

But he was, and that damned, exalted and exiled him at the same time. He turned back to the pile of kindling, striking the tinder stones more fiercely than was warranted. Sparks danced, pricking his skin. He focused on that, not on her, not on his mission. Not on his loneliness.

Only when their meal was finished did he again ask the question she'd stubbornly refused to answer for the past two days. "Still afraid to tell me why you seek Master Rowan?"

Her responding laughter was as silvery as the moonlight. "I think you're not a guardsman, but an interrogator with the Chancellor's Royal Enforcers."

"I'd not need the coins you promised me, then, would I?"He hefted the small misshapen sack laced to his belt. It must have taken her weeks, perhaps even months to steal those coins. Unless, as he suspected, she'd practiced her thievery under orders from the growing taint of evil that now seeped into the land.

A taint that would pay well to reach Master Rowan. And even use a winsome-faced gutter-thief to do so.

"There'll be more coin when we reach Farlong. I told you. I can pay well for one with The Mark who can call the master."

She would pay more than well. Before they reached her camp at Farlong Cove, the moons would rise full and she would see what he was. For that knowledge, she would pay with her life. A twinge of regret rose, unbidden. Automatically, he retreated to his litany of damning the moons, damning her stubbornness and damning, most of all, himself.

But he had little choice now. He was duty-bound to accept her mission, though not because he'd been paid. He fingered the sack, the hard, uneven edges of the metal disks forming an almost readable pattern. He could sense some of their previous owners: the short, balding baker. The portly cloth seller. The wizened, harsh-voiced candle maker. All unaware of their pockets being picked by the child in tattered clothing, his gutter-thief, robbing them of their coin.

Just as she was unaware who sat opposite her. Soon to rob her of her life.

He let the sack roll to the sand with a muted thud.

"You said it was enough."There was a slight hesitation in her voice. She'd misinterpreted his distaste with the coins as dissatisfaction with his fee.

"'Tis adequate,"he said with a slight shrug, not wanting her to pursue that line of questioning. It was enough for her to believe he was a City Guardsman who'd been born with The Mark, and who, at the moment, was a bit low on funds. For now. Until Alith and Takin rose full.

He woke well before sunrise and as he had the previous mornings, was drawn to watching her sleep. He thought he'd long ago lost his curiosity about Mundane folk yet this one kept snagging his interest. It wasn't her face or her form, as pleasant as both were. He'd known females more beautiful, more seductively alluring. His gutter-thief hardly qualified for alluring in her over-large shirt and tattered breeches. Incongruous, perhaps. Inconspicuous. So much so that he'd almost passed her by, chained to the wall in the dank cell as she'd been, looking to be nothing more than a mound of dirty rags.

But then, the readings in his mage circle rarely showed who'd put out a Calling for Master Rowan. Only that one lay in the ethers, open and unanswered. He answered less and less these days, sickened by the greed that prompted them. Master Rowan will grant me riches. Master Rowan will grant me fame. Master Rowan will slay my enemy, award me his wife. But this one had been different, plaintive yet powerful, and laced with something he couldn't identify. That unknown could well be the latent threat portended in the mage circles. With grim determination, he'd followed its trail to Frothborn's walls then donned the guise of a guardsman when he realized where he had to go.

And his gutter-thief, seeing the star-shaped mark on his face and the corresponding streak of pure white in his black hair, had led him to her hidden sack of coins once he'd unhooked the chain from her wrists. But the shackles he'd let remain. It would do her no good to know he could unlock something no mere guard would have a key to. And besides, he told himself, it amused him to see her so encumbered. Discomforted. Though she kept silent about it.

She shifted in her sleep. The morning light showed red welts on her wrists, and a blossoming dark bruise from the weight of the thick, uneven metal bands. For a moment, the fact that she endured pain he could banish with a touch disconcerted him. Then he shoved himself to his feet and stomped down to the river's edge to splash icy water on his face. She wasn't a helpless child to be pitied. She was a grown woman, a professional thief with far too quick and sharp a tongue who'd no doubt borne worse pain in her life than a pair of rusty shackles. And if she were an agent of this latent evil, he'd be doing her a favor by ending her life in three days.

Two days. Two more days and he'd have to kill her. But unlike whatever torture she'd suffer when she was no longer useful to her employer, death by his hand would be merciful, swift. The Chalith may be demons in this Land, but they were not monsters.

That night the pull of the moons was more intense, almost searing. More than they should be, still one day from rising full. He blamed his resulting edginess on his years and their loneliness, on the biting cold wind whistling through the trees, then on the stone he'd found in his left boot. On Miera's--for that was his gutter-thief's name--sharp tongue as she'd taunted the city- bred soldier stumbling behind her through the thick vegetation leading to their current camp. "Torry who tarries,"she'd named him, mocking him.

His feigned ineptitude wore on him, sharpening his own tongue as well as darkness descended on their campsite. "You seek the Master to ensorcell another's man, is my guess. The likes of you'd get a lover no other way."

The small hand pushing the spoon through gruel in the battered pot hesitated, but only slightly. "I'd heard Mark Bearers pass no judgment on the reason for a Calling."

Most didn't. Most followed the edicts of the Marked and dutifully performed Callings for the supplicants. But he wasn't like most of the Marked. He was Chalith. It was Miera's misfortune of chance that he'd been the one to hear her plea for a Call.

"If we pass no judgment, it's because they all sound the same."He snapped a twig between his fingers, pointed the longer section at her. "You desire something beyond your ken and want Master Rowan to hand it to you."

"Is there never any other reason?"

His lips curled derisively. "Revenge. You don't want someone else to experience their deserved good fortune."

"Those sound far too simple to warrant the attention of the master."

"Are you gauging your chance for success? You know the master grants what he wishes to and little more. Tell me your request,"he coaxed slyly. "Mayhaps it's one he's not heard before. I can guide you in its phrasing."

She hesitated just long enough that he leaned forward in the fire-lit darkness, very sure her next words would be what he'd waited to hear for three days. Perhaps, a small voice whispered, it would be something innocuous. Not a threat, nothing to fear. The safety of the land assured, he could disappear before sunrise, leave her damning him for stealing her coin. But alive.

She tapped the wooden spoon on the pot's edge. "I don't believe he's heard anything like mine, no."

"And that is...?"

"One you'll hear when you Call the master. In Farlong."

No, damn the eyes of the Gods! One he would hear by tomorrow night, with Alith and Takin surging through him. And his knife on her throat. For if she lived to tell what he was-- a Marked Chalith--they'd know how to kill him. And all the land would hunt him 'til his death was assured.

That could not be. As the Marked swore fealty to their edicts, so he knew what was required of him. There was only a handful pure-blood Chalith left; he was the last of his own line. His death would unbalance the Circle of Seven. There could be no Circle of Six. It was blasphemy; it was unspeakable. If he were to die, then another Chalith must die as well to maintain balance. But the death of two in the land would rent a hole in the fabric of magicks beyond repair. Miera's folk would face an evil far beyond what they believed him to be. Chalith. Moon-kin. Demon. Unbeknownst to them, the very creatures they feared protected them. It struck him that his guise of a guardsman was not so unlikely, after all.

How then could he also be her executioner?

He'd had a choice. The same one he had with every Call he answered: dismiss the innocent, send them elsewhere. Kill those whose avarice threatened the safety of the land. He should have sent her away, that first hour, returned the coins to her keeping with a harsh word. Or a feigned illness. It mattered little the method. But for the unknown power that had hovered at the edges of her plea, and her equally as unknown reason. Why did she seek Master Rowan? Until he knew that one fact, he must regard her as a threat. Rumors whispered of a deeper evil walking the land. An evil that sought Master Rowan. But that's all the mage-circles would show. Not how or why this threat would come.

So every Calling was suspect. Even one from a winsome-faced gutter-thief whose pluckiness he'd come to grudgingly admire. She could well be the death of him, in more ways than one.

His thoughts darted like trillwisps in the moons' bright darkness. Sleep eluded him and it was but a few hours to sunrise. Damning the moons, himself and, most of all, her, he laid a light sleeping spell over her form, then shoved himself to his feet. He tossed his jacket onto his pack. The slight sound didn't wake her, nor did the crackle and slap of branches as he strode doggedly into the forest. He needed a clearing. It didn't have to be large; only well-shielded. He needed to shift, now, to his despised form. The sound of his wings on that first forceful, upward thrust would be louder than his jacket hitting his pack. Louder than the slap and crackle of branches. She might wake, see him. And he simply wasn't ready to kill her, yet. He'd been alone for so long. He craved her company, if only for another day.

The first clearing was too close to their camp. The second, better, though not as spacious. It would do. He opened himself to the moons' power, the muscles of his arms and chest expanding. His large wings unfurled with a hard snap. He shoved them downward. Branches whipped in the downdraft. Pinecones pelted the forest floor. Sleeping birds scattered, screeching. He soared upward with them, his heart pounding, his breath straining. He was free.

The night sky was infinite. He focused on that, not on the small form asleep by the remnants of a campfire. A small form with bruises on her wrists from the metal shackles he could've removed but hadn't. A small form who held a secret tightly guarded inside her: the reason she needed to speak to Master Rowan.

He understood about secrets. She would learn of his, when he learned hers.

She would hate him. Hate him and fear him, though he didn't think it likely she'd cower on the ground as some had. His gutter-thief had far too much backbone for that. More likely, that soft, expressive mouth of hers would thin, harden. She might even spit out a curse or two. He'd already heard more than a few samples of those. Torrin's mouth curved in amusement as he dipped one wing, circling back. It had been late in the afternoon of the first day and his attempts to ascertain the facts behind her request had evolved into a discussion about the chancellor's policies. And elicited from her a string of invectives so colorful he'd laughed aloud; something he hadn't done in--

Riders! His gut tensed as he spotted them in the predawn light, moving northward. A long dark line, their armor purposely dulled by a waxy coating, signaling their intentions were anything but friendly. This far away, he couldn't sense if they were guardsmen or marauders. But they were armed and heading straight for her.

He turned abruptly in midair, his teeth gritted in anger, something more painful inexplicably closing around his heart. The wind scraped his face as it rushed over his skin. Time, could he reach her in time? He knew she wouldn't hear their approach 'til they were almost on top of her. His damned spell would make sure of that. She would awaken to swords drawn. It would be too late to run.

He had to reach her before they did. The band might have time on their side, but he had the element of surprise. He dove past both clearings. Branches snapped, birds squawked and he glimpsed her rising groggily onto her elbows when he was still a few hundred yards away.

A burly woman in a Royal Enforcer's tunic had grabbed a fistful of Miera's tousled hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. The tip of a bearded man's sword touched her chest. Something burned correspondingly in his own. He'd already marked the band of riders as dead, simply for their intrusion. If they harmed her, he'd not only kill them, but kill them slowly. Painfully. As befitted the legends of the moon-kin.

"The scroll! Where is it? Now!"The swordsman's voice carried clearly. He swung one booted foot, aimed for her midsection. And missed as Miera wrenched to the right, arching her back, flailing upward with her own boot. She caught the swordsman in the groin.

The man's roar of pain covered the first harsh rush of wind through the trees, but not the second. Nor the deliberate thud of boots on the ground. Torrin left his wings unfurled, shadowing his face. He wanted them to see what he was but not who.

The burly woman's eyes widened in fear. "Chalith! There, by the rocks!"She stepped back quickly, releasing Miera from her grasp.

The four remaining Enforcers turned as one, swords sliding through sheaths. The injured swordsman struggled to his feet. "Your protector, Lady Valanmier?"he grunted, lunging for her.

Lady Valanmier? Torrin's mind froze at the name. Froze long enough that the swordsman reached his gutter-thief who wasn't a gutter-thief at all. But the queen's niece, betrothed of the Chancellor's son and a member of the Royal House of Valan. The family crest proudly bore a beheaded Chalith impaled on a stake.

This esteemed member of the royal family plowed her fist into the side of the swordsman's face. The man fell backward, not as much from the blow from her hand as the impact of the heavy metal shackle. "Kill her!"the man screamed.

The four remaining men split up, flanking her.

"She has the scroll,"the woman countered, one hand out to stop her comrades' charge.

"Or the Chalith does."There was hatred and fear in the look the swordsman gave him. Torrin had no idea of Miera's thoughts. Not Miera's. Lady Valanmier's. Her back was to him, her concentration no doubt on the assassins in her family's employ. Assassins sent to kill not him, but her.

It made no sense. It must be a trap, their actions against Lady Valanmier a ruse. He moved, short Chalith blade glowing in his right hand, wings arched high. One shove and he'd be airborne, out of reach of their swords.

Except they had more than swords. The second soldier thrust his free hand into his pocket then threw something on the ground. A small talisman, ensorcelled. Powerful.

Before Torrin had time to construct a warding spell, its magic hit him in the chest with the force of a battering ram. He stumbled, gasped. His vision hazed for a moment and when it cleared, Miera was in front of him, a small cylinder in her outstretched hand.

"Torrin, take this to Master Rowan!"

"The scroll!"one of the soldiers shouted.

He grabbed it. Gods' oath, she didn't know who he was.

"Fly!"she screamed at him. She kicked the talisman, sending it tumbling a few feet farther away from him. The short hunting knife in her hand pointed not at him but at the advancing line of Enforcers. "Find Master Rowan!"

"Traitorous bitch!"The burly woman's curse was directed at Miera, but she swung her sword at Torrin. It missed his left wing only because Miera stepped in its path. It sliced open her forearm. A strained cry escaped her throat but she stayed on her feet, challenging the Enforcer. Defending him, a Chalith.

The glint of swords on his right told him he had only seconds to escape. Only seconds to live if he didn't get airborne and away from that talisman, now.

He grabbed her by the waist, instead, propelling her behind him. "Run!"Painfully, he shifted his wings back inside himself and barreled after her.

Blood stained her shirt, flowed down her fingers like tiny red raindrops. He fixed on her blood's essence with his mind, wove a spell. The ground behind them slickened into a thick, wine-colored mud. It slowed the Enforcers' pursuit, but didn't stop them.

He overtook her at the first clearing. She was pale, gasping. The distance from the ensorcelled talisman restored some of his strength. He didn't know where the Enforcers had obtained such deep magic. He couldn't worry about that right now.

"I can't..."She drew in a raspy breath. "The scroll's more important. Leave me here. I'll delay them. Find Master Rowan, please!"

Footsteps thudded closer. Shouts grew louder. He clasped her wrist. "This way."

"But--?"

"Damn you, woman, don't argue!"He dragged her through a thick stand of trees to what he knew lay behind. He stopped at the edge of the precipice just as the Enforcers broke through the foliage. "Put your arms around my neck, now!"

She obeyed without comment for once, her eyes wide in alarm. The drop behind them was hundreds of feet. He jumped, shifting, his wings exploding out of his form with a crack like summertide thunder. He held her tightly as he surged upward. The morning sun was rising and he had only minutes left in his true Chalith form.

He spied a clearing on the edge of the valley, glided for it. Miera shivered against his chest, but if it were from fear or from her injury, he didn't know. He suspected the latter. He'd watched her stand up to the Enforcers. His gutter-thief, who wasn't a gutter-thief, had backbone.

He landed roughly, his wings already weakening as the moons set. Her large, dark- lashed eyes followed his movements as he quickly constructed a makeshift camp and used magic to light a small fire. She still said nothing, not even when he ripped off her shirtsleeve. Not even when he dissolved her shackles with a touch. That worried him almost as much as her shivering.

Only when he'd cleansed her wound, bound it and tried to ease her pain with a few small spells did she speak: "Torry, leave me. Find Master Rowan."

A bramble was stuck in her hair. He gently pulled it from the silken strands. She didn't flinch from his touch. He marveled at that for a moment. That and the fact that she was Lady Valanmier and the House of Valan had long ago sentenced all Chalith to death. "You could've let them kill me, then claimed I'd kidnapped you."It would have made sense. It might well have saved her life.

"And claimed as well you forced me to steal the scroll from my aunt's private study?"She shook her head. "No Chalith has been within a day's journey of the palace in centuries. And lived,"she added. "They knew I, alone, took it, though not for a fortnight. Then they'd almost found me in Frothborn. I let myself be caught and thrown into jail. It seemed to be the one place they wouldn't look for me. Or the scroll."

He touched the ornate cylinder tucked in his belt. "This was your reason for the Calling?"

She seemed not to hear him and he realized she studied his face. "I didn't know a Chalith could also bear The Mark."

There were a number of things she didn't know, including the burden of being a Marked Chalith. He wanted his answers, first. He pulled the cylinder from the belt, uncapped it and tilted it so that the parchment scroll slid into his hand. He felt its magic immediately, prickling his skin as if the bramble he'd plucked from her hair had grown a thousand-fold. It was laced with magic, deep, dark magic. He frowned, recognizing the source of power that had whispered through her Call.

"It's a spell,"she said, but he knew that already.

"For?"he prompted. What could be so important she'd risk the condemnation of her family, her very life?

"It sets out how to kill Master Rowan."

He stared at her. Rumor solidified into fact. They knew. Someone knew. The readings in the mage-circles were correct. The unthinkable had become reality. Something once again threatened the Circle. And he held it in his hand.

But how much did she know, understand? "Master Rowan,"he said, repeating what the Mundane had been taught for centuries, "is immortal."

"Only his name. It's bestowed upon a Chalith in the Circle of Seven. Which used to be the Circle of Thirteen."This time she frowned. "Unless my information was in error?"

No, her information was fully correct and one the Mundane were never to know. If he'd been aware of her knowledge days ago, everything that had happened in the last few hours could have been avoided. "Why didn't you tell me this in Frothborn?"he asked more harshly than he wanted to. In spite of his spells, her blood dripped through the strips of cloth on her arm and her face was more pale than he wanted it to be. And her brassiness, her teasing haughtiness, was absent.

"If you'd told me you were Chalith, I would have. You know I couldn't trust anyone else. My people, you call us the Mundane, my people fear the Chalith. Even some of the Marked do."

He nodded. He knew of the desertion, of the thinning of the ranks. That was why he'd answered the Call.

"They think you're demons,"she continued. "When the chancellor reveals that Master Rowan is Chalith, and not immortal, they'll hunt him down. They don't understand the master, and the Chalith, protect us."

"But you do."He traced the edge of her face with one finger. Again, she didn't flinch but held his gaze evenly with an acceptance he didn't dare believe possible. A heat fluttered through his body, and it wasn't from the sun rising overhead. He pushed it away, tried to concentrate on his other reason for touching her. "You're not Chalith-ar."He'd thought for sure she would be, even when he learned of her Valan heritage. How else would she have known the truth? Why else would she permit his touch?

"The summertide I turned eighteen, my family decided it best I be kept in MistHaven, until my betrothal was announced."Her eyes narrowed in obvious distaste. "Much like a prize calflet is kept in the pen until slaughter."Then her expression changed, became downcast. "My ship encountered a storm at sea. Only myself and two crewman survived."

He remembered the news, vaguely, of a royal schooner lost. It had been about four years ago.

"We were rescued by a Chalith and her Chalith-ar husband. For months they cared for us, asking nothing in return. Once we were strong enough to travel, they made sure we were on the next merchant ship to MistHaven. We willingly pledged an oath to them. They saved our lives. We would never knowingly endanger theirs."

"And because of them, Master Rowan's,"he put in softly.

She laid her fingers on the scroll. "There may be other copies, but if Master Rowan has this, he can weave spells to defend against it. As we sit here, the queen gathers her army to strike. He can save himself. He can save the Chalith and this Land."She leaned toward him and he could tell the movement pained her. "But first you must save Master Rowan!"

Rowan Dal'Chalith Nar Torrin gently eased her back against the mossy boulder and enfolded her hands in his. "You just did, my lady. You just did."

* * *

This he knew with unwavering certainty as he held her in his arms, as the power of the full moons pulsed their night-borne magic through him: he would not leave her side until her wounds were healed, until the color again bloomed on her cheeks, until brassy retorts once again tripped off her tongue. Only then would he ask her to return to the Circle of Seven with him, to take her place as his heart-mate at his side.

A war of deep magicks hovered over the land like a lengthening shadow. This, too, he knew with unwavering certainty. But Rowan Dal'Chalith Nar Torrin would not face this battle alone.

Lady of Maragorn

by J. C. Wilder

J. C. Wilder is an award-winning paranormal romance author who also writes erotica as Dominique Adair. Her latest books include Paradox, and Temptation, part of the Shadow Dweller Series. Readers can check out her website at www.jcwilder.com

As long as she lived, she would never kiss another man.

WHACK!

Nia attacked the small pile of leafy herbs with her butcher knife, releasing the pleasing scents of basil, rosemary and sage. Considering she was immortal, as long as she lived meant an eternity without kisses.

She cast a mournful glance at the row of stone statues lining the rear of her worktable. Her gaze followed the statues around the small, comfortable room. Small groups of stone creatures crowded the corner pantry, the bookshelves over her bed, the fireplace mantel and the shelves above her windows and doors.

Finally, after having run out of shelves in her cozy cabin, she'd resorted to placing the wee beasties in rows before the fireplace. During the cool evenings, she'd prop her feet on their little ugly heads and warm her toes.

In fact, there were so many of the creatures surrounding her that there were times when she felt like she were suffocating. The cabin she'd called home for the past two hundred years was bursting at the seams with her victims.

Her victims.

Her shoulders slumped. It was her fault. These men, mortal men who had been lured into the woods by stories of the Lady of Maragorn--a healer of unsurpassed skill, a she-elf of incomparable beauty--were turned into gargoyles. It was said that a man could find paradise in a single kiss. They came to her, at least four to five a year, wanting only to kiss her, to touch her. But at the first touch of her lips, they'd been transformed into stone statues of hideous little gargoyles.

She looked at two sitting on the edge of the mantel over her eastward window. Some of them, like Ran the Dark and Nikolaz of Riverhaven, a fellow elf, she'd truly loved. In her heart of hearts, she'd believed they could be the one to set her free.

According to the story her mother had told her from her deathbed, the only action that could release her from this endless curse of immortality was true love's first kiss. Only, for her, it hadn't worked. Both men had turned to stone at the touch of her lips, leaving her alone and heartbroken.

But today was going to be different. Today she was taking her fate into her own hands.

Nia squared her shoulders and set the knife aside. Today, on her two hundred and twenty-second birthday, she was going to end her curse by taking her own life.

Outside the window over her workbench, a soft, late spring rain fell. The scent of wet earth, loam and growing plants teased her senses. How she loved the spring, the ripening of nature after the release from winter's icy embrace. The creatures coming back to life, the newborns to be found in the woods, it was like magic.

Just like herself.

Humming under her breath, she added the chopped herbs to her conjure bowl, which was already half-filled with the ingredients she'd gathered fresh from the woods earlier in the day. Taking her pestle, she began grinding the contents into a fine paste. As she worked, she chanted the sacred words, passed down by her mother, under her breath.

Megrew lithra arowen nighlie.

The familiarity of the chant and the soothing movements calmed her soul. For months she'd been contemplating taking her own life, and now that the time was near, she felt oddly calm. Almost as if she knew she was doing the right thing. It was time to end the torment and loneliness she endured every day of her life.

Two hundred years was a long time to spend with only the woodland animals as companions.

But first, before she could complete the job, she had to free her victims from their cursed existence. Leaving them to dwell as statues forever while she took her leave was something she could not bear. Over the years she'd tried numerous times to reverse the spell to no avail. She was hoping that upon her death, she could turn everything to right and undo all of the damage she'd inflicted upon these men. It only made sense that, if she were dead, all of her spells would reverse.

When the herbs had reached the desired consistency, she put aside her pestle. Taking up the bowl, she approached the first row of statues. She sprinkled a small amount of the herbs over their little stone heads. As she moved along the rows, she spoke her incantation.

Goddess of dark and light,
Upon my death, set this wrong right.
Break this curse and set them free,
For now, forever, so mote it be.

She repeated the incantation several more times as she worked her way around the room, taking care to not miss a single stone creature. When she was done, she placed her empty bowl on the workbench.

In less than an hour, she would be dead and these men would resume their physical form. Both her curse and theirs would be ended. She cast a final glance at the two statues of Ran and Nikolaz. Shoving her regret into a corner of her heart, she turned to the cupboard where she stored her clothing.

From the depths of the narrow space, she retrieved a floor length, white beaded gown. Her mother's wedding gown. With great reverence, in the flickering light of the low fire, the material glowed with an unearthly sheen. It was surprisingly heavy and she ran her fingertips over the myriad of pearl and glass beads that covered the dress.

If she wasn't mistaken, the Wood Elves of Siravar to the north, the people of her mother's line, had made the material. Her mother had told her on many occasions that when she was cast from the tribe, she'd taken only the material, her hunting bow and the silver crown that now rested on Nia's head. She'd never seen any of her kin in all her years, but Nia had seen fine elven material before. If she wasn't mistaken, this was some of the finest.

Shedding her simple cotton gown, she pulled the wedding dress over her nude body. Her mother had made the dress in the hopes that Nia's father would marry her, but instead Nia's mother had been rejected. Love had turned its back on Kara twice as it had her daughter. Her mother had never worn the gown, but her daughter would.

Nia straightened her shoulders and tilted up her chin. Instead of wearing the gown to her wedding, she would wear it to her death.

Turning away from their staring stone eyes, Nia felt a sharp pang as she exited the cabin. She was angry that her life was ending like this. As a child, she'd had such high hopes for life, love and a family. Instead she was doomed to carry the curse of a bitter man who'd mistakenly believed himself wronged. Turning away from his own true love, her father had destroyed so many lives.

The ground underneath her bare feet was wet, the grass springy and soft. The rain had slowed and she let her head fall back to receive the caress of the earth mother's precious gift one last time.

Over the years, she'd tried to kill herself twice before. Each time she'd awoken from her folly to find herself hail and disgustingly hearty.

But this time would be different. She could feel it.

At the far end of the clearing was a narrow line of trees and beyond them were the forbidding cliffs of Maragorn. Just past the trees, the grass faded to sparse weed then nothing but the rocky edges of cliffs paved the way. The wind blowing in from the sea tugged at her gown as she beheld the stormy gray of the ocean before her.

The cliffs were sheer, flat rock walls for hundreds of feet with the ocean roiling amongst large boulders at the bottom. Once she fell, there was no way to scale the cliffs and her body would be pulled out to sea. She would find her peace in the ocean's embrace.

Nia lifted her gaze to the heavens. Images filtered through her mind, the names and faces of hundreds of people she'd known. Her mother's beloved face came first, then was followed by each of the people she'd treated over the years. No matter how cursed her life had been; she'd saved the lives of thousands with a mixture of elven magic and her herbal healing skills. That was reward enough. She'd done well and now it was time to rest. She was weary, unutterably weary.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped to the edge. Drawing a cloak of serenity around her, she closed her eyes.

Freedom...

She lifted her foot and her body swayed with the breeze. She lost herself in the peaceful embrace of her pending death, when the sound of a man's gruff voice shattered her serenity.

"'E went this away."

Startled, Nia's eyes flew open. Who would dare to come to this lonely place and interrupt her death? For the most part, people didn't come to Maragorn unless they were seeking her help.

"Why would 'e come this way? Everyone knows the Witch of Maragorn lives yonder. This place is cursed."The last was said in a loud hiss.

Nia stomped her foot as she scowled in the direction of the voices. Cursed? Little did this blathering fool know about curses, but she'd be sure to show him. Education was the path to enlightenment and she was about to educate this trespasser. She turned in time to see a man stumble through the trees toward her.

He was a big man, tall and broad, his hair darkened by the rain. He wore black from head to toe with a gold link belt around his waist. This was no common hunter, his belt alone proclaimed him to be a man of worth. His garments were mud-splattered and, in his right hand, he carried a massive sword. Her eyes widened when she recognized blood coating the blade.

His face was deathly pale and his eyes were midnight blue against his unnatural pallor. He caught sight of her and swayed before falling to his knees almost at her feet.

"Please, milady,"he gasped. "Help me."

Nia ran forward and caught him before he pitched face first onto the rocks. Staggering under his weight, she fell backward and his upper body landed across her legs, pinning her to the ground. She shifted beneath him and barely managed to maneuver him to his side.

She laid his head in her lap and sheltered his face from the soft rain with her bowed head. He was a handsome one. His hair was long, his features rugged. Thick lashes created shadows against his cheeks and his skin was cool to the touch. A scar marred his left temple and cheek. But, even with that blemish, he was a very handsome man. And his lips looked so... kissable...

Nia felt her gut clench and her breath left her in a rush. The urge to lean down and press her lips to his was overwhelming. To breath life into him or to feel his flesh against hers, she wasn't sure. Almost as if in a trance, her head descended to his.

"Wot's this?"

She'd been so engrossed in looking at the man, she'd neglected to listen for the owners of the voices she'd heard. Two stocky figures approached, their swords and shields in hand. They were barely as tall as she and dressed in dirty brown leather jerkins with darker brown clothing beneath and heavy laced boots.

Her eyes narrowed. They were dwarves.

"A woman in the woods?"said the first. His knotted, filthy beard wobbled with each word. "What do you suppose she's doing 'ere?"

"I dunno,"said the second. He had no beard though he was no less as filthy as the first.

The bearded one stepped forward. "Woman, what business 'ave you 'ere with our man?"

Nia's gaze flicked from one to another. Dwarves were, at best, full of bluster. The animosity between elves and dwarves had existed for centuries. The reason for the animosity was lost in the shadows of years long past. But Nia knew both she and her new patient could be in some danger if she made one wrong step.

She lowered the man's head to the ground, then rose to face the newcomers.

"I live in these woods."She linked her hands at her waist. "I must ask you what business you have here."

"Yew dunna live 'ere,"the second one said. "Only the Witch of the..."His voice trailed away as his eyes grew round.

Nia glanced from one to the other, allowing them to draw their own conclusions. The first one looked from the unconscious man, to her and then back again while the second took several steps back toward the safety of the dense woods.

"She-elf,"the first one spat. "We'll just take our friend and be gone."

"Indeed."Nia looked down at the man, seeing for the first time the large smear of blood on her dress and the sword wound on his side. "Your friend seems to be a bit ill- used."

The dwarf gave a loud guffaw. "He ran afoul of some shady characters--"

"Helped along by you, no doubt. And this is why your sword is stained with blood?"She shot a pointed look at his sword. "You'll have to excuse me if I don't believe your tale. I think, if I were to compare his blood with that on your sword, they would match."

The false smile faded and his expression grew dark. "I dunna care what you think she-elf. Take your parlor tricks and be on your way as we'll be taking 'im with us."

"Branch--"the second man's voice held a note of warning.

Parlor tricks?

Nia pulled inward to concentrate on the beat of her heart. Once she had the rhythm firmly in her mind, she allowed it to expand throughout her being. With each thump, her physical body lengthened and she expanded. Within seconds she'd gone from just over five feet tall to well over eight feet.

"Dwarf, do you mistake me a mere conjurer of childish tricks? A jester like those at the markets who entertain the offspring?"Behind her, she heard a crack of thunder as black thunderheads rolled overhead. Within seconds, the landscape around them was as dark as night. "To do so will spell your dooommmmmmm."

"AHHHH!"The second dwarf screamed as he turned tail and ran into the woods as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Branch's mouth dropped wide open as his bladder let loose and he urinated on the front of his grimy pants.

"I would suggest that you hasten back to whatever hovel you've come from."She towered over him, her nose wrinkling at the rancid smell of unkempt dwarf and fresh urine. She poked him in the chest with one finger and his sword hit a rock with a clang as he dropped it.

"Now,"she said.

He spun and ran, disappearing into the woods after his cowardly partner.

Nia covered her mouth lest her laughter be heard. The clouds departed as fast as they'd arrived, and she shook her head. Turning back to the unconscious man, she scooped him into her arms. In her enlarged form, she could easily carry a grown man.

After casting a mournful look at the sea, she headed in the direction of her cabin. It would appear that she had more work to do before she could take her leave.

* * *

When Ranulf opened his eyes, two things became abundantly clear--he was dead and he was in Ador, the underworld of the damned.

He blinked several times but the scene before him didn't change. He turned his head as much as his aching skull would allow, and the leering stone faces above him did not move. Weary, he closed his eyes to take stock of his situation.

Every inch of his body, from his toes to his eyebrows, hurt. He moved his arm experimentally and felt a sharp pull in his side that took his breath away. A dull throbbing on the side of his head was making him nauseous. But other than that litany of complaints, he felt good. He snorted with laughter and immediately regretted it as the sound rang through his abused skull.

Beneath him, he felt the comfort of a wide bed that crackled slightly as he moved. Spring grasses maybe?

What had happened to him? Vaguely, he remembered hunting in the forest alone. He'd sent his men back to the keep even though he'd known it was dangerous in this time of upheaval. But he'd been on his own land and had thought himself safe for a few hours at least. He'd wanted some time to himself and it was a rainy spring day, the kind he enjoyed.

He'd come across a stag near the falls. But, as he'd prepared to take aim, something had struck him on the back of the head. After that he remembered nothing, only vague snatches of imagery. A dwarf running at him with a sword, a sharp pain in his side, trees flashing past as he ran, the cliffs of Maragorn and a woman in a white dress that had looked suspiciously like a wedding gown.

Had he married? His eyes flew open and he jerked upright, almost immediately sorry he had done so. Pain rocked his body as bile burned his throat. He moaned and fell against the pillows as black spots danced before his eyes.

"Ah, you're awake, I see."

A haunting, melodic voice rose to his right. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head toward the unearthly sound. His gaze wavered before righting itself to focus on the figure approaching him.

For a moment, the sunlight pouring through the open window obscured her, making it appear as if she had a halo of golden light pouring from her long, pale hair. As she leaned over him, he could finally bring her into focus.

She wasn't very big, barely over five feet. Her hair was straight and the palest gold he'd ever seen. Her skin was cream pale and her features were slim, almost delicate. Soft winged brows, thick-lashed emerald green eyes and a soothing smile. She was exquisite. Around her head she wore a woven silver band and in the center dangled an emerald as green as her eyes.

The design of the band heralded her as member of the Nellwyn, one of the Wood clans. She was an elf.

She placed a cool hand upon his brow, her thumb gently stroking the knot above his temple. "You're alive and now you're awake, though I'll warrant you wish you were dead, my friend."Her voice was musical, lulling in tone and accent. She stoked his forehead and the pain began to recede.

He tried to speak, but his throat was so dry, no words could form. The woman gave an understanding smile before she turned away to retrieve a mug from a table across the room.

"I've brewed some tea for you. Drink and you'll sleep. When you awaken, you'll feel new once more."

Ranulf tried to smile his thanks, but failed miserably when she had to aid in raising his head. Everything hurt so much, he couldn't think straight and forming a coherent sentence was out of the question.

The bitter flavor of the tea was softened by a liberal dose of honey. Thankful for anything wet to ease his thirst, he gulped down the liquid. Afterward she gave him a drink of cool water to wash away the bitter aftertaste.

She eased his head onto the pillows and wiped his lips as tenderly as a mother would a child. When she was done, she stepped back and that odd halo created by the sunlight returned. She was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. She-elves were known for their ability to bedazzle mortal men, but they'd never had an effect upon him as this one was.

His eyelids grew heavy and suddenly he was afraid that, if he slept, this bewitching creature would escape. Before he would allow himself to drift off, he had to know her name.

He forced his eyes to remain open. "Milady,"his voice was slurred. "My name is Ranulf the Hunter and I will have your name before I take my rest for you are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."

The woman's expression turned sorrowful. "You're mistaken for I am as plain as a fish, milord. But since you asked so sweetly, I am called Nia, the Lady of Maragorn. Fear not, for I sha'nt bewitch you. You'll leave these woods as you have entered them, a man."

Ranulf's eyes slid shut, his mind barely comprehending what she'd said. This beautiful creature was the one known as the Witch of Maragorn? He gave a slight grunt of amusement... or at least he thought he did.

Impossible. The stories of the Lady were a parent's tool designed to make youngsters obey their edicts. He himself had heard the stories of the beautiful witch-elf as he'd sat on his father's knee. This wasn't possible as the woman didn't look old enough to have been the living here when he was a child.

With a mighty yawn, Ranulf the Hunter, heir to the throne of Leavendor, Steward of Malian, slept.

* * *

Nia stirred the contents of her cook pot and the savory aroma of rabbit stew rose with the steam. Almost the entire day had passed and her patient should be waking up soon. She'd feed him, keep him until morning and send him on his way before she did anything stupid like kiss him. The last thing she needed was one more victim with which to contend.

Her gaze strayed to the stranger sleeping in her bed. Was there ever a man who'd had a mouth to be kissed like his? His color had returned and now he slept the peaceful slumber of exhaustion.

His cheeks and chin were dark with stubble and thick lashes cast dark shadows across his cheeks. His dark hair had dried and she delighted in its natural wave, so unlike her own straight locks. His mouth was full with the lower lip slightly larger than the top. And they looked soft... warm...

She groaned and set her spoon on a plate on the hearth. No, never again. She'd made her vow to never kiss another man and she'd keep that vow if it were the last thing she'd do. She looked at the row of stone creatures lining the hearth. She had no choice.

The gentle rustle of sheets turned her attention back to the bed. Her heart gave a jolt when she saw the stranger's dark blue gaze fastened on her. A shiver of longing snaked through her abdomen and she pushed it away. She needed to get him well and on his way as soon as possible, for his sake.

"Are you feeling better?"She approached the bed.

"Yes, much."His voice was husky from disuse.

"Feel up to eating something?"

"Um,"he glanced around the room. "I need to answer the call of nature, if you'll direct me that is."

Nia smiled at the rush of color tinting his cheeks. Men, they were so predictable. King of the mountain while they were on their feet, but when you lay them flat on their backs and unable to help themselves, they turned prudish. Imagine what the world would be like if women acted so squeamishly about a simple bodily function. From the pantry, she retrieved a pitcher she kept for such a purpose.

"You take care of this and I'll dish up some food. You must be ravenous."Handing him the container, she turned away to ladle stew into a bowl, adding crackers made from lentil beans on top. After drawing a mug of fresh water, she carried his dinner to him.

"Thank you, milady."His blush was still in place when she set his dinner on the table by the bed.

"Eat."She took the pitcher him. "I think you'll find that when you've eaten, you'll feel like your old self again."

"It smells delicious."

Nia didn't miss how the stranger literally fell on his food. Humming with satisfaction over a job well done, she escaped outside to empty the pitcher.

On her way back from the stream, she saw Fern, her sometimes horse. She gave a low whistle and the horse ambled toward her. She called the creature that because she didn't own her, rather they shared a mutually beneficial relationship. Fern would give an occasion ride while Nia would return with a weekly brushing and apple or carrot snacks.

In the morning, she'd need the mare to assist her in taking the stranger back to wherever he came from. Together, they walked to the cabin. When she entered, she was pleased to see the stranger sitting up in bed.

"Are you finished?"She indicated the clean bowl.

"May I have more?"

"Of course."Nia refilled the bowl and handed it to him. His hearty appetite was a very good sign indeed.

"Where am I?"he asked.

"Just north of the Woods of Leavendor near the cliffs of Maragorn."She indicated the horse who'd just stuck its head through the open window to nibble on drying herbs. "In the morning, you can borrow my horse to aid you in your journey back to whence you've come."

"Sending me off already?"She caught the amusement in his voice.

"It is what's best for you."She picked up the pallet she'd been sleeping on since the stranger had arrived. Spreading it out before the fire, she sat to begin her evening ritual of brushing and braiding her long hair. She removed the silver crown and placed it beside her on the pallet.

The man continued eating, but she was aware of his avid gaze as she separated the strands with her fingers.

"Why do you live in the woods alone, Nia?"His voice was low, sensual. "Don't you get lonely?"

Her eyes closed as a powerful longing swept through her. What did it matter if she told this man the truth? He'd leave in the morning and she would be gone shortly thereafter.

"My mother died many years ago, so I've been alone most of my life."Deftly she wove her hair into two long braids to avoid tangling while she slept. "I barely remember anything different."

"Then why do you remain here?"

"Because I can't live anywhere else."She tied a faded blue ribbon at the end of one braid.

"Why is that?"

"I am cursed."Her voice erupted more bitterly than she'd intended. "Surely you've heard the stories of the Witch of Maragorn?"

"Of course, they're fables designed to scare children into behaving."He placed the empty bowl on the bedside table.

"They aren't fables. They're true, for I am she."

"You aren't nearly old enough--"

"I'm over two-hundred years old."Nia dropped the brush onto her pallet and turned to face him.

His head was cocked to the side as comprehension dawned across his face. "Of course you are. Many elves are immortal."

She frowned. If elves were immortal, this was the first she'd ever heard of it. Her mother had been an elf and she was as dead as any mortal.

"My mother was not immortal,"she said. "The only reason I'm still alive is for the curse."

"But you wear the amulet."

Nia looked down at the pendant she'd worn for all of her life. It was small, just slightly larger than the tip of her pinky. Of woven silver strands, it contained a milky moonstone at its heart, the stone of the Nellwyn according to her mother.

"It was a gift from my mother."Her fingers closed around the pendant. "I've always had it."

"All of the Nellwyn wear the same pendant. It is said to represent their immortality. If they choose, they can give the pendant to the one they love and forsake their immortal life for a mortal one."Ranulf settled deeper into the bed, still facing her. "How can you not know anything of your people?"

"They cast out my mother many years ago."Nia stretched out on her pallet. The flickering of the fire and the dim room was making her relaxed. "I've never met another Nellwyn."

"Why did they cast her out?"

"According to her, because she dared to love a mortal, Megros of Litharia. They had a great love affair and, when she became pregnant, they shunned her."Nia settled her cheek against her hands. "But Megros was a jealous man who didn't trust anyone. When Mama came to him and told him she was pregnant with me, he believed she'd cuckolded him. He, too, cast her out and the curse was cast upon me."

"Tell me about the curse."

Nia yawned. She wasn't sure why he was so interested, but since it didn't matter if he knew or not, she continued. "The curse is that I am to live an immortal life until love's first kiss sets me free. What they failed to tell my mother was, should I kiss anyone other than my one true love, they would be turned into a gargoyle."

"A gargoyle?"There was a heavy pause. "You mean like the statues around the room?"

"Exactly. You're surrounded by my victims."She closed her eyes. "I'm tired of talking about me. Tell me about your life, Ranulf."

"What do you want to know?"

"Is there anyone waiting for you to return home?"She heard the rustle of sheets.

"My men, my family and my people. I have no wife, if that's what you're asking."

Nia allowed a small smile. She couldn't deny the feeling of relief that washed over her.

"Tell me about your childhood."Her voice was heavy with exhaustion. She'd slept little since she'd found Ranulf. For the first time in many years, it felt good to have someone sleep under the same roof as she. As she drifted into sleep, lulled by the sound of his voice, she dreamed of a dark haired man and a blonde woman running through a field surrounded by their children.

* * *

"You seem to be in a hurry to see me gone."Ranulf sat on the edge of the bed, watching Nia scurry around the room straightening up.

"It's for your own good."She tossed his clean leather jerkin in his direction. "It wouldn't pay for you to dawdle here for long. Better men than you have met an untimely end here in the woods of Maragorn."

"You don't scare me, she-elf."He laughed. "I am a fearsome warrior--"

"And that has been said to me before,"she shot back.

"I will do as you desire, sweet Nia."He rose, putting out a hand to steady himself as the floor tilted beneath his feet. He was almost feeling like his old self again. Only his head seemed to still give him problems. He picked up his sword and slid it into its sheath. "I will leave your home in the woods, but I think you will not forget me so easily."

"You overestimate your powers of attraction."Her tone was dry.

"Do I?"He towered above her, crowding her near the foot of the bed where she couldn't move away. He dipped his head until his lips brushed her ear and he could feel her shiver beneath that light touch. "I think not."

With that, he moved away. He needed to get home before he did something foolish like kiss her. He cast a glance at the odd little statues before the fireplace. There was something in her story that didn't quite ring true, and he needed to speak to his steward before he returned.

The horse stood a few feet from the door and its ears flicked forward as he approached. Lacking both saddle and bridle, he gripped her mane and vaulted onto her back. Beneath him, the horse moved and he soothed her with his hands and soft words of encouragement.

Nia stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped around her slim waist. "Travel well, Ranulf the Hunter."

He tipped his head in her direction. "Thank you again, Nia, Lady of Maragorn. I shall return your horse tomorrow."

She shook her head. "There is no need, just turn her loose and she will return to me."

"Do all creatures return to you, Nia?"

Her expression turned cool. "Only those who wish to become cursed as well."

He gave her a curt nod and wheeled the horse around. As they left the clearing and entered the woods, he whispered under his breath, "Fear not, Milady, for I shall return."

* * *

The first gift arrived early the next morning. As she opened the door, Nia found a package on her doorstep. Wrapped in plain brown paper and coarse string, she picked it up and carried it to her table.

It was probably a gift from the family she'd aided last week with their ailing daughter. While it wasn't unusual to receive an offering, it was unusual for it to be left on her doorstep. Most people left them near the edge of the clearing at the base of a tree stump. While they weren't afraid to approach her when they needed something, rarely did they do so to leave an offering.

She tugged on the rope and the knot pulled free. She removed the brown paper and her breath caught as she beheld the gift of emerald green velvet. She ran her hands over the mound of soft fabric. Surely there was enough here to make an entire dress or a cloak. Beneath the fabric, she found a note.

Cloth to match the color of your eyes...

Even though it was unsigned, Nia knew who'd sent the present. Ranulf. But how could a mere soldier afford a ransom's worth of precious velvet fabric?

He was wily, that one.

She refolded the fabric and tucked it away, safe in its paper wrapping. Too bad she wouldn't need it as it would have made a lovely cloak.

Now that she had no patients and she'd put her cabin back to rights, there was no reason to not to take the leap from the cliffs as she'd planned. Her fingers closed around the pendant and a soft shiver moved up her arm. What if Ranulf was right and the pendant was the key to her immortality rather than the curse?

She frowned. But why wouldn't her mother have told her? Surely she wouldn't have kept such a thing a secret. Not that it mattered now. Even if the pendant was the secret, the curse still remained. When she kissed a man who was not the love of her life, he turned to stone. That alone was something she could live with no longer. The thought of an eternity alone was more than she could bear.

Nia stripped off her clothing and removed the white gown from the clothing cupboard. The beautiful fabric had survived its shabby treatment. After a good cleaning and allowing it to dry in the warm sun, it looked as beautiful as ever.

She pulled it over her head. The gown felt heavy as it settled against her skin, not as comfortable as it had the last time she'd donned it. Why was that? What had changed?

Ranulf.

She exited the cabin, her heart thudding in her chest as she walked through the soft grass. He was the only thing that had changed in her life. Since meeting him, she'd felt out of sorts. Almost as if--

A spark of sun glinting off something caught her eye. As she neared the small boulder, she spied a delicately embroidered pair of ladies slippers. Her lips formed an O as she took in the tiny seed pearls sewn around the edges.

She lifted them to reveal a note underneath.

Slippers for your beautiful feet...

With trembling hands she slipped them onto her feet, reveling in the sensual caress of the fur lining. Never had anyone given her such a grand gift as the velvet and slippers. Usually she received gifts of food, a length of homespun. Once she'd received two gold coins, not that she had any use for them, but they were pretty when the light hit them just right.

Straightening, she continued her journey, stopping to admire her new footwear from time to time. As she neared the trees, she saw something in the trees reflecting the sunlight. When she drew near, she saw an emerald pendant on a narrow silver chain. A note was attached to the chain.

Emeralds to match your eyes...

Nia couldn't help the feeling of joy as she read the card. She lifted the pendant and fastened it around her neck along with the moonstone. Had her soldier snuck through the dead of night hiding these gifts for her? How could he have afforded them? Had he stolen them?

She wove her way through the woods and, as she neared the clearing, a flash of red caught her eye. From a tree branch hung a ruby red velvet cloak. Never had she seen anything quite so lovely. Silver embroidery edged the front and the hood. The clasp was shaped like a horse's head and was made of sterling silver.

She removed the cloak and another note fluttered to the ground.

To protect you from the elements...

Nia clutched the cloak to her chest as her gaze scanned the area. How many gifts had he left for her? She slipped the cloak over her shoulders and began searching.

Within two hours, she'd unearthed a myriad of gifts. A large basket of food, a length of sapphire blue silk for a dress, a collection of silk hair ribbons in every color of the rainbow, an emerald ring as well as a saddle and bridle for Fern. Trip after trip she made back to her cabin carrying her bounty.

With all of the gifts piled on her bed along with a stack of notes, she admired the king's ransom she'd received. As beautiful as the gifts were, they didn't compensate for an eternity of loneliness. Lengths of velvet and precious jewels were a poor substitute for love.

Nia exited the cabin a final time. She could only hope that whoever happened upon her cabin could use the things she'd left inside. When she reached the cliffs, a voice rose from behind her.

"There you are, my fine witch."

* * *

Ranulf nudged his horse into a canter. He couldn't wait to get back to Nia and see how she liked the presents he'd left her. It had taken two of his men over an hour to hide them in the area around her house.

Ever since he'd left her home the day before, she'd occupied his thoughts completely. He could think of nothing else but her.

He was in love with her.

Yes, it was folly to love someone he'd only met a few days before, but it was true. His mother had always told him that, when he met his soul mate, there would be no doubt in his mind. With Nia, there wasn't one. Witch or not, elf or not, she was the woman for him.

As the woods thinned, to his left were the cliffs where they'd first met. He pulled his horse to a stop when he heard voices coming from the cliffs. Recognizing Nia's cool, melodic tones, he leapt from his horse and moved to a tree that would shelter him from view.

His heart leapt into his throat when he saw her poised at the cliff edge, her back to the sea. The winds from the sea tugged at the red cloak. Her expression was composed as she faced two dwarves who looked oddly familiar.

The shorter of the two was armed with a bow and a short sword still in its sheath. The taller, more aggressive one stood closer to Nia. His sword was in its sheath, but he held a jeweled dagger, one that Ranulf recognized as being his father's. One that had been missing since his ill- fated hunting trip.

These were the two who'd attacked him in the woods that day.

He ran his hand over the bindings that still covered his sword injury. Nia's healing skill had the wound almost healed. These two had tried to kill him, and now they had the woman he loved cornered.

Anger simmering, he moved through the trees until he stood almost directly behind the taller man. Careful not to make a sound, he withdrew his sword from its sheath and advanced.

Nia's eyes widened when she saw him, but she made no effort to acknowledge him.

"I said, whatcha 'ave to say for yourself, woman?"The taller man jabbed his dagger in her direction, but she didn't flinch.

"I fail to see why I have to answer you,"she said. "I was but minding my own business the day you chased the stranger here upon this cliff. It wasn't my fault you lost your prey."

"'E was a rich one, 'e was, and we mean to collect on our 'ard day's work."He jabbed the knife at her again. "I know he's probably stashed at your place. You'll just 'ave to take us there."

"And if he's not?"she asked. "What then?"

"Then we'll just avail ourselves of you and teach you a lesson about meddling where you're not wanted. We'll just toss them skirts over your 'ead and see 'ow well you like it."The taller one glanced at the shorter man and laughed. "You'll be our consternation prize."

"I believe you mean consolation."Amusement laced her words.

"Humph."He grabbed her arm and began hauling Nia toward the woods and her cabin beyond the clearing.

"There's no need, gentlemen, for I have come to you."As Ranulf spoke, both men jumped. Spinning, they turned to face him. He jabbed the tip of his sword into the soft earth, then braced his hands over the hilt.

"You,"the taller one said.

"Yes, 'tis I. I believe you were asking the lady about me?"

The shorter one took a half step back, clearly unwilling to face a healthy, armed man this time.

"We came only to bid 'ello to the beautiful lady."The taller one smiled, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. He pulled Nia closer. "Good friends, you see."

"Indeed."Ranulf's gaze flicked to Nia's expressionless face. "You'll have to forgive me if I think the lady disagrees with you."

The taller dwarf shifted her until she stood in front of him as a human shield. His dagger was placed against her throat, but Nia seemed unconcerned.

"As if we care what you 'ave to say,"the man snarled. "Now, give us your money or I'll slit 'er throat."

Ranulf gave him an unpleasant smile. "Come and get it."He removed his money pouch from his belt and held it out, sure to give it a good jingle so the men could hear the coins clinking together.

"Get it,"the taller one said to the shorter man.

He started, then stopped. "But he's armed."

"Step away from your sword, milord. I'd 'ate to cut 'er throat if you made any sudden moves."

Ranulf inclined his head toward the man and stepped away from his sword. With the bigger man's gaze fastened on the bag, his dagger moved away from Nia's throat ever so slightly, giving him a chance to save her. But before he could pull his own boot dagger and hurl it at the man, Nia had grasped his arm and slid beneath it.

"Wench,"the bigger man snarled.

Nia grabbed his cheeks and, to Ranulf's surprise, gave him a quick, hard kiss on the lips. Stepping back, she ran her hand over her mouth as if to remove the taste from her skin.

The dwarf gave an odd scream that cut off in mid syllable. Instantly, he was transformed into a gargoyle statute, a particularly ugly one at that. The smaller man gave a strangled scream and headed for the woods, the bag of coins and his friend forgotten.

"I guess you were right,"Ranulf said.

Nia's brow crooked. "You've seen my home and still you didn't believe me? I'm cursed and I have been from the day I was created. Thank you for the lovely gifts, but you've wasted your time."She indicated the squat stone creature at her feet. "I can't risk this happening to you. You're better off without me."

He shook his head. "I will never be better off without you, Nia. I love you."

She turned away and stepped to the cliffs. Already she was slipping away. Her gaze was fixed on a distant spot out at sea. "I cannot love you, Ranulf. I cannot love anyone."

"Nia, what are you doing?"

"Taking my life. I cannot live this half-life any longer."Her voice was dreamy, as if she were hearing voices he could not.

"Don't do this."He stepped closer and she put up her hand as if to warn him off.

"It's better this way--"

"How can it be better? How can I live without you?"He took another step. "You said yourself that your true love can free you from this curse. How can you believe that I'm not your true love? What if I'm the one and you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life?"

She looked at him, her emerald eyes awash in tears. "And what if I kiss you and you turn into one of them?"She gestured at the statue. "I couldn't bear it."

Ranulf kicked the statue off the cliff and he heard her gasp. "And what if I don't?"he shot back.

"But they all have, don't you see?"she wailed. "All of them, some of them I'd loved, and all of them I've lost. I cannot bear it again."

"Kiss me, Nia. I beg of you to kiss me. If I turn into a statue, then pick me up and hurl both of us off this cliff. But don't--I beg of you--don't jump without kissing me first."

Tears left shiny streaks down her cheeks. Her chin dropped and he used the opportunity to pull her into his arms. She came to him on a sob. They fit, just as he knew they would. Her head came to rest just below his chin, her slim body leaned into his.

"I cannot bear this--"Her voice broke.

"I can."

He tipped her chin up and lowered his head. Their lips met and he laid his claim to her. A jolt of pleasure rocketed down his spine as her lips parted and their tongues tangled. Her mouth not only looked good, it tasted sweet as well. Her hands clenched and released against his chest as he plundered her mouth. Overwhelmed by the sensation of her soft body leaning into his, he wanted nothing more than to reverse their positions and lay her on this cliff and sink into her.

She moaned a protest as he broke the kiss. His heart stopped as she went rigid. Her eyes rolled back in her head and then she went limp in his arms. He caught her and lowered her to the rock, his body sheltering hers. Tucking her head into his shoulder, he held her close, waiting for either everything or nothing to happen. Other than being dizzily happy, he felt only love for the woman in his arms.

After a few moments, her lashes fluttered. He stroked flyaway hairs from her face as she awoke. Her eyes were confused when they focused on him.

"You're still you,"she whispered.

He smiled and ran his finger over the soft curve of her cheek. "And you're still you."

"Oh, my..."She burst into tears.

He hugged her tighter until the tempest passed and she cried two hundred years of loneliness onto the front of his jerkin. When she calmed, he released her so he could look into her beautiful face.

"Nia, you aren't immortal, either."

She frowned. "Of course I am."

"No."He ran his finger over the pendant. "This makes you immortal, the sign of your mother's people. You're a halfling, half human and half elf. I think your mother forsook her immortal life for you by giving you this. She knew you couldn't be immortal on your own, thanks to your mortal blood."

Her eyes again filled with tears. "Oh, Mama,"she whispered. "If I'd only known."Her hand fisted around the pendant.

"If you choose a mortal life, you have only to remove the pendant and cast it away."

She sat up so fast she came close to cracking him on the nose with her head. She fumbled with the chain until he took over and removed it from her neck before handing it to her. He rose from his crouched position and pulled her with him. The sea breeze tugged at her long golden locks as she took his hands in hers.

"I love you, Ranulf."She released his left hand and held up the pendant. "And I choose a mortal life."With that, she tossed the pendant over the cliffs.

He slid an arm around her waist as the waves seemed to part to receive her gift.

After a few moments, she spoke. "Let's go back to the cabin. I need to see what--if anything--happened to my victims."

Ranulf retrieved his sword and they walked toward the trees. "Why would something have happened to the statues?"

"I cast a spell to free them, of course."

Author's Note: If you want to see what happens to Nia's victims,
check out Paradox III, available in September 2004 from LTDBooks.

Publisher info:

Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your secret fears,
Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks