CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jimmy consulted his map and drove along Shelter Rock Road, trying desperately to stay awake. He'd already had one near accident this morning when he nodded off behind the wheel, and had to pull into an abandoned storefront parking lot for two hours to nap. He was losing time—it was already ten o'clock in the morning.

He examined the tree-lined road; it was an isolated area. Jimmy was thankful Lord Baldevar hadn't decided to live in some gated, heavily protected neighborhood. Excuse me, sir, why do you want to enter the town? Well, you see one of your residents is a wicked vampire, and he's got my girl. Yeah, right, Jimmy would find himself back in the nuthouse.

The dirt road led him to a brick whitewashed wall with an elaborate iron gate in the center. Jimmy stopped the car, and took his rifle from the front seat He removed the safety, then held it out in front of him. Hard to explain to passersby, but better than being shot by some damned familiar of Lord Baldevar's. Then he grabbed a burlap sack from the backseat, got out of the car, slammed the door, and inspected the entrance. From the gate, he could see nothing but trees and grass—the house must be situated farther back.

There could be no question of hopping the wall—its elegant facade was completely ruined by the barbwire running along the top. A vampire's main goal was to discourage daytime visitors. Any professional thief would take in the wire, the alarms attached to the iron gate, the video surveillance, and decide it would be too risky to break in.

Jimmy heard a small, almost imperceptible click. He whipped around and saw a small swatch of black in the tree directly above him. Reacting on pure reflex, he aimed the rifle at the black and squeezed off three shots.

A man fell out of the tree and thudded to the ground, screaming in pain; his rifle fell a few feet from him. Jimmy ran over and kicked it away before the guy could reach for it. "Jones!"

The PI glared up at him, moaning and screaming. Jimmy inspected the damage—he'd gotten the guy through the shoulder and one shot took him in his right thigh. Not life-threatening but certainly painful—and the private eye wasn't in much condition to bother Jimmy anymore.

Jimmy glanced at Jones's rifle—he had heard the man removing the safety. How the hell had he heard that? Jimmy's sense had improved dramatically since that thing bit him. Did that mean he was a vampire, or becoming one? Well, he'd been able to see himself just fine in a mirror this morning—and the thought of drinking blood made him ill. But on the other hand, those transfusions were like magic—migraine and fatigue aside, at least he was up and around. So how close was he to becoming a bloodsucker?

Jimmy put the barrel of his rifle to Jones's head. "Start talking."

"Fuck you!"

Jimmy wrapped his finger around the trigger. "Do you see anyone around, asshole? I could kill you and stuff you in the trunk, nobody's gonna know. Or I can shoot you in the stomach and leave you here with no medical attention."

Jones was clutching his wounded leg. "What do you wanna know?"

Jimmy was cautious. He didn't know what Jones knew. What would happen if he started babbling about Simon being a vampire? "Why are you working for him?"

Jones didn't need to ask who he meant. "Look, it's nothing personal. But out of nowhere, this rich asshole shows up. I don't know how, but the guy knows everything about me. He knows who I owe—who's about to break my fucking legs because I've got fifty thousand in gambling debts. And poof—he pays off everybody! And all I have to do is—"

"Kill me, right?" Jimmy grinned humorlessly. "What did that asshole tell you about Maggie?"

"Nothing," Jones said sullenly.

Jimmy whacked the butt of his rifle against the wound in Jones's thigh.

"I mean it!" he squawked, gasping with pain. "That guy didn't talk to me about anything… All he did was hand me that damned deed."

"When?"

"He gave me the deed a week ago. Then, two nights ago, he calls me up and tells me to give it to you… only you. He was real specific about that I had to give it to you during the day; I couldn't bring it by at night. Then I was supposed to watch the house today until you arrived and then kill you. Jesus, what did you do to the guy anyway?"

Jimmy considered what he had just learned. Baldevar must have called the PI after Renee caught him, and before the asshole trapped Maggie. How did he know everything would go his way? Jimmy sighed—did that matter? He'd disabled Jones, and now he was going into that house to kill Simon.

He hauled Jones to his feet, ignoring the agonized protests. "You're not hurt that bad." He dragged him over to the alarm and camera. "Who else is here?"

"Nobody."

Jimmy pistol-whipped him across the face.

"I mean it!" Jones yelled, clutching his bleeding nose. "That fucking camera is a trick. I don't get it—guy's got stuff in there worth millions and his alarm ain't even hooked up to a security firm or the cops. It doesn't make sense."

It made sense to Jimmy—and convinced him Jones had no idea what Simon Baldevar was. You wouldn't hook your home up to a surveillance team if you never wanted anyone around during the day. No telling what they might see…

Jimmy dragged his hostage to the alarm. "Punch in the combination."

Without argument, Jones put in the code and the iron gates swung open.

"Any dogs?" Jimmy asked him.

"Five."

"You know how to make them heel?"

"Uh-huh."

When they were about twenty feet on the property, the Dobermans came running over, snarling at the pair. Jones screamed, "Obsequor!" and they became still.

Jimmy wondered idly what obsequor meant… some weird demon thing, or maybe Latin? He hoped he got a chance to ask Maggie. He made Jones show him where the kennel was, and they locked the guard dogs up.

Jimmy took a look at the estate—a rose-brick manor house with two wings flanking the center structure.

Nice-looking, but so desolate. Jimmy couldn't shake the weird feeling that he was at the ends of the earth. It was stupid—there were other mansions around, a town a few miles away. But once he set foot on Simon's property, he felt completely alone.

Jimmy tried to shake off his unease, and made Jones open the front door. In a way, Jimmy was glad he'd found the guy—no need to break in the house, waste time trying to disable locks. Because without Jones, the front door would be about the only way to gain entry. Although the beautiful manor house had elegant French doors and deep, wide windows to allow in sunlight, every single one of them was protected by steel interior locking rolling shutters. You could not break through those shutters; Jimmy had encountered them before and had convinced Maggie to buy them for her house. He had no doubt now that Simon (and that must mean Maggie too) was in this house. The place was a goddamned fortress, and who but vampires would need to make sure that not even the smallest ray of sunlight could enter the house during the day?

With Jones's aid, the operation was going almost too smoothly. No need for his breaking-in tools, his glass cutter; his extensive knowledge of alarms wouldn't be called upon today. Goddamned asshole of a vampire might as well have put out a welcome mat. Something about that thought made the skin at the back of Jimmy's neck tighten, but he couldn't figure out what was making him uneasy.

When they entered the foyer, the dark, oppressive atmosphere made Jimmy feel like he was inside a crypt.

Jones turned around. "So what now?"

Jimmy ordered him to lie on the floor facedown with his hands behind his head. "I'm gonna tie you up."

Jones started shaking. "Come on, man, I did everything you asked me to—"

Jimmy ordered Jones to open the bag and get some rope. Biting his lip, the PI did as he was told, gave Jimmy the rope, and lay facedown on the floor.

Jimmy put the barrel of the rifle to the back of his head and fired. Jones's body convulsed once, and then he was still. Jimmy fired again to make sure he was dead.

Then he collapsed on the floor, not caring about the blood rapidly flowing out of Jones's head. He had just killed a man in cold blood. Ordering him to lie down like that—did he think he was Gary Gilmore? Well, maybe that guy did it that way for the same reason Jimmy did—he didn't want to see the person's face when he killed him.

Jimmy had killed before when he went vampire-hunting, but that had been different. Some guy and girl came at him with guns, and he shot them first But Jones—the guy had been wounded, and he just killed him anyway. Jimmy was beginning to understand why Maggie was so sad—how the hell did she deal with killing people to stay alive?

Then again, Maggie didn't kill people anymore—said she hadn't done that since she left Simon. But how did she deal with the memories of all the people she had slaughtered? Maybe it was different when you were a vampire—maybe your conscience didn't hurt as much. No, Maggie was disturbed. Anyway, what choice had he had? If he just tied the guy up or even knocked him out, he'd have to spend the whole time he was searching for Simon worrying about Jones waking up. And that prick hadn't been some innocent bystander—Jones would have killed him if given the chance.

Jimmy pulled himself up, looking down in distaste at his blood-soaked clothing. If he were a vampire now, would it fascinate him? Would he lick every drop off himself? There was a disgusting thought. Jimmy was starting to have second thoughts about being a vampire. What would it be like to drink blood, to never see the sun again?

For God's sake, Delacroix! Why don't I try imagining what it's going to be like to never see Maggie again? Now stop this stupid moping and find the goddamned vampire!

OK, Jimmy thought to himself. What's the most logical place for a vampire to hide during the day? He started hunting for a door leading to a cellar or basement, trying to ignore the sudden dizzy feeling he had.

In the kitchen, he found a wooden door with a dead bolt barring entry—Jimmy simply blasted the lock with his shotgun. He glanced down into the thick darkness leading below. It made the funereal atmosphere of the house seem like blazing sunlight. Jimmy got his flashlight and started walking down the rickety staircase cautiously.

He could not see anything except what the small circle of light from his flashlight illuminated. Jimmy hated to admit it, but the pitch blackness was frightening him. His heart was in his throat—any second he expected something to reach out and grab him.

"Fuck!" There was a wet patch on the stairs and Jimmy went flying. He lost the flashlight, and his sack, laden with heavy vampire-slaying implements, landed smack on top of him.

Fortunately for Jimmy, the cellar floor was dirt. If he'd taken a header onto a cement floor, he'd very likely have a concussion. Then he could just lie here unconscious until the vampire woke up and found the tasty mortal snack waiting for him.

Jimmy pulled himself to his knees, groping in the dark. He hadn't fallen very far; he could still see the light (what little there was) from the kitchen and he started crawling toward it, dragging his bag along with him.

His hand connected with a soft lump and then Jimmy felt something slither across his hand. A bug of some kind—no, wait a minute. He kept his hand in place, becoming aware of the bone beneath the rotting flesh, the putrid odor, and the unbearable sound of maggots hatching from a dead body…

My hand is on some goddamned corpse was Jimmy's last rational thought. Then instinct took over, the need to be out of this dank hole with a feeling of evil all around him. Screaming like a banshee, Jimmy turned and ran as fast as he could to the promise of sanity coming from the dim light of the kitchen.

Jimmy took the stairs two at a time, only breathing normally when he stepped back into the kitchen. He staggered back into the living room, trying to ignore the still bleeding corpse on the floor. I can't go back down there, he thought. Not even for Maggie can I face that fucking place. I don't know what the hell is down there, and I'm sure as hell not facing it with no light. For all I know, he's got it booby-trapped… I could step into shards of glass, have battery acid pour down off the ceiling…

Why did he suddenly feel so tired? Was it the scare he'd just had? He thought that transfusion had patched him up, but now he felt awful. He was nauseous and his head was throbbing—he was having trouble focusing. All he wanted to do was rest. Jimmy forced himself to walk to the curving staircase leading upstairs, and then he collapsed on the fourth step. Just a little rest, he thought tiredly, just gonna rest my eyes for a few minutes…

Jimmy snapped awake. Jesus Christ, how the hell had he fallen asleep? He consulted his watch with the glowing dial: 5:20 in the evening. Shit! Shit! Shit! Sunset might not be until 7:04 P.M., but Maggie told him vampires could rise as early as one hour before sunset Goddamn it—that only gave him about forty minutes.

Fear propelled him up the staircase. There were about ten rooms on this floor—all locked. Jimmy cursed—now the asshole decided to be cautious. Jimmy used a credit card to jam the old-fashioned locks.

Five rooms, and he had gotten nowhere. Jimmy might want to rescue Maggie, but he was running out of time. It was already 5:40. Jimmy promised himself he would only search this floor. If he didn't find the vampires—better luck next time. Maggie wouldn't want him to die at Simon's hands.

At the end of the corridor, he struck pay dirt He slipped his card in between the lock and door. There they were on the bed—Maggie and Simon Baldevar. Jimmy flipped the light on and consulted his watch—5:50.

Jimmy's heart was in his throat—they could wake up any second. Then what? Could Maggie help him out—and what if Simon woke up before her? What if she lay there, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being slaughtered?

Stop wasting time, he told himself. Pray Simon is a late riser. Jimmy got his stake and ropes out of the bag. First thing Maggie taught him was restrain the vampire's feet and wrists—they'll be surprised if they wake up and you can use those precious seconds to drive the stake in. So he'd tie the bastard up, then shove the stake in his heart, and chop off his head.

Jimmy wished to God vampires did sleep in coffins—then he wouldn't have to deal with seeing Maggie sprawled on top of that thing, her body intertwined with his. Of course, he probably raped her, but why wasn't she huddled away from him? Why was her head on his shoulder, one hand carelessly thrown across him, her bright red hair covering their nudity?

Jimmy was close to hyperventilating. He hadn't been this frightened the other times he killed vampires. But he had been healthy and done by noon—now he was trapped with vampires that could wake up at any second. He couldn't resist a morbid stare—resting vampires was a sight you could never get used to or fully describe to someone else. They didn't look real. In the light, they were like waxen figures in a museum—stunningly lifelike but no animation whatsoever. He found it hard to believe that the doll-like figure on the bed was Maggie.

Jimmy put out an arm to gently tug Maggie away from Simon, but she was like deadweight. He had to yank her hard to move her away, but she didn't stir.

He reached for Simon's hands, and his own hands were shaking so badly it took over ten minutes to tie the vampire's hands to the brass headboard. Touching Simon made Jimmy feel ill; every minute he expected him to suddenly yank his hands away and wrap them around Jimmy's neck.

There was no time to restrain his feet: 6:04. Jimmy took the iron stake (Maggie said why use wood when metal was so much heavier) and placed it in the center of Simon's chest. Jimmy raised the hammer, intending to drive the stake through his heart. But it was Jimmy's heart that stopped and his breath went out in a soundless gasp when those yellow eyes flew open.

The vampire easily snapped the ropes binding his wrists. Jimmy's hammer fell harmlessly to the floor, landing softly on the carpeted floor. Now one hand wrapped around Jimmy's throat Simon glanced down at the stake, and casually threw it across the room with his other hand. Then his mouth stretched in an evil smirk; Jimmy almost lost control of his bladder in his terror.

"Many stronger, smarter, more resourceful men than you have tried to end my life. You arrive rather late in the day to dispose of a vampire, boy. Could it be you are laboring under the illness my apprentice inflicted upon you?"

Maggie hadn't moved. Come on, Jimmy prayed, wake up and help me.

Simon laughed. "You came here to rescue the damsel in distress, and now you invoke her aid. It shall be my pleasure to feast upon your agony when you observe Meghann's love for me."

"She doesn't want you! "Jimmy tried to scream over the hand blocking his windpipe.

Simon held his eyes, and Jimmy felt the rage vanish beside the paralyzing fear that set in. The vampire didn't need to raise one hand against him; those evil eyes had entered his mind and Jimmy was hysterical. Before he passed out, he heard the monster say softly, "Meghann wants me as she has never wanted anything else. But I will not prove that to you—she will."

"Charles."

He looked up from the deed he'd found on the living room table. "Meghann, thank God!" He hugged her close, unable to convince himself she was real. She was wearing an ivory gown, but his attention wasn't drawn by the dress—he was shocked by the red punctures on her neck that were a ghastly contrast to her chalk skin.

Charles pushed her hair away, running one hand gingerly over the wounds. "Simon bit you?" What else did he do, Charles thought to himself. She looked like a wraith with her pallor, wild hair, and anxiety-filled green eyes. Charles also thought he saw deep humiliation and shame.

"That's not important," she said shrilly, and started speaking frenziedly. "We have to get back there; he's got Jimmy. When I woke up, I knew Jimmy was there; I felt him. Simon took him somewhere, probably thought he'd make me do what I did to Johnny 'cause he thought after last night—" Meghann broke off, and blushed to her hairline. Then she started rambling again in the same high-pitched, hysterical tone. "But I tricked him this time. He thought I was too weak, but he didn't know that ritual gave me power too. He thought it was all for him, but I was able to fly here and get you. I need your help; God knows what he's doing to Jimmy, but I knew I couldn't stop him by myself any more than I could stop him from killing Alcuin… Oh, Charles, he's dead. Did you know that? But maybe we can help Jimmy… damn it! Why did you send Jimmy to Simon's lair? He was in no condition to slay a vampire. It was a trap. Why couldn't you see that? How did you find his resting place?"

Charles grabbed her shoulders firmly. "Meghann!" He had to cut through her hysteria; she wasn't making sense. He settled her on the couch and handed her the pint of blood he'd started to drink when she appeared. "Feed, Meghann. You're starved for blood and hysterical." He overrode her protests. "You can't help Jimmy like this—now take that blood."

Meghann tore into the plastic bag with her blood teeth and drank greedily. Charles watched the pallor fade from her face as she demolished the entire pint. The shaking stopped, and she looked up at him with a much calmer expression.

"I didn't mean it," she said to herself. There was no mistaking the relief in her eyes.

Charles took her hand. "What didn't you mean?"

Meghann leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for making me feed. You were right—I wasn't thinking clearly. He didn't let me feed."

"Of course he didn't Now, what didn't you mean?"

"Last night, he gave me this potion. Blood mixed with other things. He likened it to a truth serum—said I wouldn't be able to lie about my feelings for him." Meghann laughed bitterly. "And I was foolish enough to take his words at face value, to assume Simon Baldevar would tell me the truth about anything. It was no truth serum—more like the date-rape drug. Anyway, after he made me drink it, we performed this… ritual."

Charles did not want to press her for details about the ritual—the dull flush on her face was enough for him to guess what was involved. He took her hands and told her, "Meghann, the past two nights have been sheer hell for me—not knowing if you were still alive. I do not care what you had to do or say to save your life."

Meghann gave him a slight smile. "You're right, Charles—all that matters is that I'm here—able to fight that bastard to save Jimmy. I wasn't able to see that until you made me feed." She felt so relieved—Charles thought he'd been in hell? What about the torture she'd gone through since she told that despicable bastard she loved him? The whole thing seemed unreal now—she could almost pretend she'd imagined it. And what did it matter if she did say she loved him? She only said it because of the damned potion.

"Meghann."

She looked up from her reverie.

"Did you say Simon has Jimmy?"

She scowled at him. "Of course he does. You sent him there during the day, didn't you? Why did you do it? How could Jimmy possibly attack Simon in his weakened condition? What were you thinking?"

"Meghann, no! I didn't send Jimmy… Look at this, though." He handed her the deed.

She read it quickly, frowning. "Where did this come from?"

"It must have come yesterday… during the day, when I slept It's from that agency you hired."

"No, it's too much of a coincidence… Jimmy finding Simon's resting place. This came from Simon… somehow."

"There's more involved. Jimmy shouldn't have been able to keep that information from me… He had help."

"Oh, God." Meghann sighed tiredly. "Simon must have used his power to shield Jimmy's thoughts from you. Why couldn't Jimmy see it was a trap?"

"He was worried for you… sick, not thinking clearly."

Meghann started to nod in agreement and then she let out a chilling howl that made Charles's bones tighten with fear. "He's torturing him!" she howled. "Oh, my God, no, don't—"

Charles shook her hard to bring her back to her senses.

Meghann got to her feet, and yanked Charles up. "Come on, we have to go now!"

"Meghann, how can I fly there? I've never been there."

"Yes, you have," she corrected. "Simon took me walking last night… It's the Gold Coast! Do you remember that huge mansion we saw in Hempstead? Simon's estate is only a few miles from there… If we fly and then walk, we can be there in ten minutes! Come on!"

Charles spoke softly, knowing how upset she was. "Meghann, you just asked me how Jimmy couldn't see that he was walking into a trap. Well, he's mortal, but you're a vampire and even you can't think clearly right now with all your fear for him. Simon wants us to just blunder onto his property."

Meghann knew her friend was right. But how could they help Jimmy?

"Tell me everything that happened since you encountered Simon on the beach," Charles told her.

Rapidly Meghann told him of Alcuin's death, the dream she'd had the night before, her own failed plan to bring Simon to his knees with the love he claimed to have for her.

Charles's eyes lit up. "You were right!" He smiled at her.

His sudden cheer surprised her. "What do you mean?"

Charles grasped her hand again. "Meghann, Simon's love for you does make him vulnerable… and that is the one advantage we have right now." He pulled her up. "We have to make you more presentable for your lover."

"What?" she questioned while he pulled her up the stairs. "What are you up to? I told you, trying to use his feelings toward me didn't work last night—"

"But that's because you were alone, Meghann. Of course you couldn't handle him on your own, but now we'll defeat him together. Alcuin was right—love will be your weapon." Charles explained the rudiments of his plan while they hurried up the stairs.

Meghann thought his plot had a small chance of working, but her own eyes lit up when she thought of a way to refine it.

"Yes!" she said excitedly while Charles hastily filled a bag with items they would need to rescue Jimmy and destroy Simon. "This can work, but I have a better idea. Something Lord Baldevar will never suspect. I'll explain to you while we walk to the estate."

Jimmy Delacroix regained consciousness when he felt an icy hand on his throat and heard a steely voice command, "Awaken."

He tried to jerk away from the cold touch, but he couldn't move. His arms and feet were tied down. No, not just tied down—the ropes were cutting into his skin, stretching his limbs to the breaking point.

"Your limbs ache? You are lying upon a rack—one I have owned since the sixteenth century," the same steely whisper told him.

Simon Baldevar! Jimmy's eyes snapped open. Everything came flooding back: Jones, seeing Maggie sprawled on top of the vampire, and his failed attack. Where was he? Jimmy felt a cold block beneath his head, propping him up. He raised his head as much as he could to get a better look at his surroundings.

What he saw made him think he had traveled back in time to the Spanish Inquisition. The dark, dank room was a torture chamber, lit only by a few candles attached to iron holders in the stone walls. In the center of the room, Jimmy saw a large wheel-like structure hanging ten feet off the ground, an iron casket, chains attached to the walls with iron spikes in the necks, and a long stone table littered with a variety of torture implements. There were thumbscrews, needles, pincers, daggers, and some other medieval-looking objects that Jimmy couldn't identify.

Simon followed his glance, and picked up one curious object that looked like a clumsy scissors. "You don't know what some of my little toys are, do you? Don't fret. Before the sun rises, you shall know the name of every object on this table and its use—intimately."

"What are you going to do to me?" Jimmy croaked.

"Whatever does my consort see in you? She certainly did not select you for your intelligence or resourceful nature." The vampire applied a bit more pressure to Jimmy's throat and the mortal gagged. "And I made it so easy for you, young man. Threw open the walls of my estate to see if you could damage me. Removed every barrier to finding my resting place. Of course, you failed miserably."

Jimmy cursed—he should have known the whole thing was a trap. But he'd wanted to help Maggie so badly, get her away from this monster. And where the hell was she? Hadn't she woken up yet? What had the monster done to her?

"I have not done anything to Meghann. She chose to leave my estate."

Maggie was gone? Why? She wouldn't just leave him here and save her own neck, would she?

Simon made the thumbscrews fly off the stone table and into his outstretched hand. While he attached the device to Jimmy's right hand, he spoke to him in a light, almost casual tone. "Although it would give me no end of pleasure to watch you wallow in the notion that Meghann cravenly deserted you in your hour of need, I far prefer to point out that you know remarkably little about a woman you claim undying love for." The screws were tightening; Jimmy felt a sickening wave of nausea and unbearable pain in his right hand. He screamed out and the vampire kept chatting in that same lighthearted tone, like they were having tea together. "That sweet child is not yet capable of turning her back on you. Poor girl… What she must suffer through because she is too stubborn to listen to her master." Snap—the screws went through Jimmy's bones and his right hand was broken.

The agony was worse than anything Jimmy had ever felt—it seemed like the pain shot waves of torment through his body. Hating himself, Jimmy screamed, "Stop! Please!"

Creak, creak, creak… Jimmy heard something behind him creaking. How was it moving? Simon was standing in front of him. The pain slammed into Jimmy as his limbs were stretched farther and farther apart.

He was drenched in sweat, moaning incoherently. God, he prayed desperately, let me faint. But he didn't pass out and his agony grew with each insidious creak of that damned machine behind him.

"You will not find any escape in oblivion, young man. For even if you did faint, I would revive you. I would not remove your pain… I would increase your awareness of it. What a sight you will make for my Meghann."

"Stop it!" Jimmy yelled through the pain. "Don't you say her name… Don't you call her yours!"

Simon raised his left eyebrow, and the rope around Jimmy's right ankle tightened again. It kept tightening until his kneecap popped. Jimmy vomited from the excruciating pain. He hoped he might choke on the vomit, but he couldn't with his head propped up.

"But she is mine," the fiend told him quietly. "She pledged herself to me for eternity before you were even born, worthless cur." Simon knelt by Jimmy's side and sadistically whispered in his ear. "Perhaps I did not need the rack at all. Which would hurt you more? Shall I introduce you to the pincers, or tell you everything I did with my inamorata last night?"

"Don't… you… call her… that," Jimmy hissed. "She… loves… me."

"In the same manner she would love a wounded animal she found on the street. Meghann has an unfortunate tendency to pity and empathize with mortals… one she will outgrow in time, under my tutelage. But I see by your bulging eyes and heaving chest that revelation will cause you more agony. So I shall tell you that last night I had her just as I desired… with her beautiful legs spread wide—"

"No!"

"To receive her master," Simon whispered smoothly, ignoring the interruption, "swearing love, telling me she belonged to me… but you need not take my word for it. You may see for yourself when Meghann arrives. That will be your last image of her, wrapped in my arms, Mr. Delacroix, calling me her master. And after that, if I feel merciful, I will end your worthless life."

Jimmy took a deep but shaky breath and forced himself to look right into the deranged yellow eyes. "You've got it wrong, motherfucker," he said without any break in his voice. "The last thing you're gonna see before we put you in the ground is Maggie telling me she loves me and telling you to go fuck yourself."

"I grow weary of your noise, wretch." Simon strolled over to the table and plucked a peculiar object from it. When Simon got closer to him, Jimmy saw that the thing looked like a dog collar with a double-pronged fork sticking out of the center. Simon attached it to Jimmy's neck, and the prisoner found he could barely breathe.

"This is called the 'heretic's fork.' Notice how one end keeps your chin rigidly in place and the other attacks your sternum. Speech is nearly impossible, but I am sure you will try to scream in a few minutes."

Simon raised his hand, and a pincer slowly drifted off a coal brazier and spun in the air for a few minutes. Then it leisurely made its way over to Simon's left hand. He took the cool end in hand and attached the warm end to the thumbnail on Jimmy's ruined hand.

"Nngh, mmph," he tried to scream when the searing hot pincer ripped his fingernail out down to the cuticle. Jimmy was literally choking on his pain because he couldn't scream and he couldn't stop trying to scream.

When he thought there could be no worse torment, the vampire leaned down and started drinking from his neck… reopening Renee's wound. It wanted his pain; it was growing strong on the agony.

"By my estimation, my consort should arrive in about ten minutes," the hateful fiend whispered in his ear while he attached the pincer to his left hand. "I promise you, Mr. Delacroix, that shall be an eternity of misery for you. But it will be a pale shadow compared to what you feel when you see Meghann accept me as her master… and lover."

As they neared Simon's estate, Meghann's euphoria gave way to rising tension and doubt. "Are you sure this will work?" Meghann questioned worriedly. "Simon's not a fool."

"Meghann, what other choice do we have? Shall we pit our combined strength against him in a face-to-face duel for your lover's life? It should take all of five minutes for him to crush us both. If he could defeat Alcuin, what prayer do we have? And you're right… Simon is not a fool. But he is in love. He'll believe you, Meghann, because he'll want to believe you." Charles saw her skeptical expression and sighed. "I wish I could reassure you… and myself. There are no guarantees anymore, Meghann. We may very well be walking to our deaths."

"Your death," she told him quietly. "Simon won't kill me. He'll make me sit and watch while he slaughters you and Jimmy, but he won't murder me. He has better ways of making me suffer."

Charles gave her his hand, and she nearly crushed it. They were like two frightened children, holding hands to protect themselves from the evil things in the dark. "We're approaching the estate… Let's not give ourselves away by discussing this any further."

Meghann's Cadillac was still parked by the elaborate iron gate. Once Meghann had thoroughly engaged Simon, Charles would simply leap over the barbwired wall and follow his senses to his friend's whereabouts.

Charles handed her several items from the bag, and she slipped them on. He hugged her close, and then she flew into the manor house. Meghann found herself by the French doors Simon had opened the night before.

She did not feel Simon's presence—but that meant nothing. Whatever he'd been up to for forty years had left him with an impenetrable camouflage. Meghann focused her senses on Jimmy. He was no longer conscious—all she could feel was pain, a severely injured person with no more awareness of their surroundings than a hurt animal.

Meghann walked toward the kitchen, but stopped in the foyer. There was dried blood on the polished oak floor, as well as on a lovely Persian rug by the staircase. She knelt down and touched the bloodstain. Poor Jimmy! Damn, why didn't she see through that little worm Jones? Maybe Simon hadn't made a deal with the man the last time she spoke with him. If she found Jimmy in one piece and got him out of this hellhole, she'd tell him he had no choice about murdering Jones—and that he'd never have to kill anyone if he still wanted to be a vampire.

Meghann wrapped her arms around her body and walked toward the kitchen, where the entryway to the cellar was located. She could already feel terror emanating from it… What had he done to Jimmy? She had that same leaden, frightened feeling she had the night she ran through fog to find poor Roy. And again she was walking on when every instinct screamed at her to turn away. It was like she was irresistibly drawn to something she knew was going to harm her, but she couldn't help herself. Well, that neatly summed up her relationship with Simon Baldevar, didn't it?

She walked the long, unlit length of the cellar, gasping in disgust at the corpses lining the walls. This wasn't like Simon; in fact, she received little impression of him. This place was the domain of that awful hag; she hung the bodies so she could continue to take pleasure in their deaths. The emanations Meghann received from their desecrated bodies made her wince… She saw a woman sliced in half, a man flogged to death, men and women starved for days in a small cell with vermin and water bugs crawling all over them, and a young girl having molten lead poured down her throat. Of course, the dominant image was that rotten bitch drinking the blood of her victims—savoring their agony while they were drained of life. How many people had been grateful to be bitten, thankful the pain was over? I should have made her suffer more before I killed her.

Now Meghann stopped before a massive steel door; she could feel her master's presence… He'd been here quite recently. She waved her hand, causing the steel door to swing open. Meghann took in the dungeon—for there was no other way to describe the hellish room.

Meghann saw the ropes dangling from the rack, the pincers lying by it, but she did not see Jimmy. He was not on the wheel, not hanging from the chains attached to the wall; then her eyes fell on the iron maiden.

She swung the heavy iron lid open, and gasped. "No!" she cried loud enough to make the torture implements on the table tremble.

Meghann lifted Jimmy out of the hellish contraption. "Jimmy," she choked out, weeping when she saw what he had gone through. When she touched him, all his torment was clear to her. She saw the session on the rack, how he howled when the monster ripped out his fingernails and toenails; then he fainted and was brutally revived. She saw Simon dragging him over to the iron maiden and throwing him in. Meghann almost felt she was Jimmy, felt the fear and terrified anticipation when he saw the lethal iron spikes on the door coming toward him as Simon slowly shut the door. Then the spikes descended, lightly pinching his flesh at first, but then sinking in farther, stabbing him with a dozen sharp points at once, simultaneously attacking the heart, lungs, liver, spleen… maiming and mutilating, but not killing. Just wishing he would die as those vicious spikes drove into him, rooted in his vital organs, tore him apart…

Meghann took a shaky breath. Jimmy was dying—she could not dare transform him now. In his shocked condition, he would not live through the process. She said a brief prayer, hoping Charles had been right about what Alcuin meant. She remembered what Charles had told her: "just pray, friend—like you did on the night we first talked."

Meghann thought back to that first night, and began saying the Hail Mary, her favorite prayer from childhood. Gradually her voice became calm and sweet. And she thought, not of the horror of the room she found herself in or her lover's hideous circumstances, but of all the good times they'd had together. This was what Alcuin had tried to tell her. Her weapon was love—not the dark, twisted thing that bound her to Simon but the love she shared with Jimmy, her friendship with Charles. And she could use it to heal Jimmy.

A warm glow appeared over Jimmy while she prayed. As the glow brightened the entire room, Jimmy's bones healed. The gaping, monstrous holes in his body refilled and the bleeding stopped. "What?" he muttered in a haze. "Maggie, what's going on?"

"Jimmy!" she squealed, and hugged him so tight he yelped. "Oh, Jimmy, you're alive! Alcuin… Charles, thank you… Thank you for showing me this wondrous gift!" The glow had died when she stopped concentrating. Jimmy was nowhere near healthy… He was too weak to walk, in pain from head to toe, and his fingers and toes were horribly disfigured. He was still suffering from the infection Renee had put in his veins, but he was no longer on the brink of death.

She barely had time to give him one small kiss before she felt her master's presence. Meghann turned around—prepared to try and make this insane scheme work.

She saw Simon's eyes light up in appreciation at her appearance. After Charles explained his plan, she had selected a violet gown cut in a medieval style—a tunic dress with a deep u-neckline and a fine silver chain around her slender waist With her hair tumbling down in soft waves to her waist, and her cheeks flushed from the blood, she knew she looked beautiful. Would it be enough?

"Will what be enough, little one?" Simon glanced behind her at Jimmy's improved condition, then gave her a twisted grin.

Meghann didn't answer—she just gave him a seductive smile and walked over to him. Her high heels put her at eye level when she put out her hand to caress his face. Simon caught her hand and held it tightly while his golden glance burned through her.

"Don't you want me to touch you?" she whispered.

He kept that same wry expression on his face while Jimmy's face showed confusion and disbelief. Maggie had come here and saved his life, but now she was behaving like some courtesan with that monster. What was she up to?

"Your paramour wishes to know your intentions," Simon whispered to her, not letting up one bit on the pressure on her hand. "And I must admit, I am rather curious myself. Are you trying to seduce me, sweetheart?"

She widened her eyes—the same flirtatious but properly deferential gesture she'd always used to try to get around him in the past. "Is it working?"

Simon smiled down at her. "You make a pretty coquette, Meghann. Tell me why you healed that wretch."

Meghann pressed her body against Simon's and told him in a low, clear tone that carried throughout the entire room, "I healed him because I care for him—live with it." She gave him a wry smile of her own and put her hand in his thick chestnut hair. "Jimmy tried his best today to give me help he thought I needed… I mean to repay him for that."

Simon didn't stop her from running her hand through his hair; he wrapped his other hand around her waist and pulled her close to him. Then he gave Jimmy a derisive grin over the top of Meghann's head—and ignored the obscenities pouring out of Jimmy's mouth. When Simon glanced down at Meghann again, his eyes had darkened noticeably. His voice sounded a bit thicker than usual when he asked, "How do you plan to repay your lover, Meghann?"

"By getting you to let him go," she said softly.

Simon raised an eyebrow, and gestured to Jimmy's injuries.

"Oh, I know you had your fun," Meghann purred at him. "And I won't lie to you and pretend what you did doesn't sicken me. But I should think that was enough to settle whatever quarrel you have with Jimmy Delacroix. You've broken him, Simon. Do you honestly believe he will ever brave your wrath again?"

"Sweetheart, you puzzle me. If my actions toward your paramour disturb you, why are you doing your level best to entice me? If you care for him enough to heal him, why on earth would I allow him to live?"

Meghann dropped the seductive look and told him earnestly, "Because you have me. Isn't that all you said you wanted? Jimmy is here because he doesn't realize what happened between us last night—he doesn't know that I love you. I wish I didn't, but I do. If he knows that, Jimmy won't want me. Please let him go—I don't want another death on my conscience."

Before Simon could reply, Jimmy yelled out, "What the hell is wrong with you, Maggie? You can't love him, you can't!"

"Say it again, Meghann," Simon told her in a husky voice. Meghann thought she heard the smallest plea in his tone.

"I love you, Simon Baldevar. I may not love your actions, and I certainly don't understand why I care for you, but I do. And I can't be with another man knowing what I feel for you." Meghann's eyes searched his. Did he believe her? "So let Jimmy go—I have no desire to live with him anymore. I'll stay at your side forever if you do this one small favor for me."

Simon let go of her hand and wrapped his hand in her hair—pulling tightly. She didn't flinch or try to move away. "Pretty speech, little one. But if you have come to accept your love for me, why flee my home to enlist the aid of your catamite friend?"

Meghann shook her head as much as she was able to with his grip on her scalp. "Not to ask for help… I wanted to say good-bye and tell him I would remain with you of my own free will. Please, will you let Jimmy leave here?"

"Stop giving me charity, you whore!" Jimmy screamed in a jealous fit. "I don't want your goddamned pity!"

"It would appear, Mr. Delacroix, that is all you shall ever receive from my consort. Did I not promise you the evening would end with you seeing Meghann in my arms… of her own volition?" Simon let go of her hair and wrapped his arms around her.

Simon was immersed in her—so immersed he did not seem to hear Charles sneaking up behind him with a stake in his hand. Jimmy saw the whole thing, and allowed himself to pray that maybe everything Maggie had just said was a trick…

And felt that small hope shatter when she screamed, "No!" and put her hands on the stake before it could go through Simon's back.

Charles backed away, disbelief and shock plain on his face. "Meghann," he choked out.

Simon let go of her and whipped around to grab Charles and his stake while Meghann sank to the floor, sobbing and howling.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, weeping. "I told you I couldn't do it, couldn't kill him no matter how much he deserves it." Jimmy thought he was beyond surprise, but then one of the pincers on the floor rattled and flew into Maggie's hands. She prepared to shove the thing into her chest…

Simon kicked her wrist hard, and she dropped the pincer. He used Charles's momentary lapse of concentration to drive the stake into his unprotected chest.

"Charles!" she screamed, and reached out to remove it from his heart.

Easily Simon caught her by the hair and dragged her away from her friend. Without letting go of her, he reached one hand out, causing Jimmy's head to crash into the stone wall behind him—knocking him out.

"I shall attend to him later, but now I wish to speak to you privately." He leaned down and bit her—taking away all the strength she'd gained from feeding that evening.

Simon attached her to a set of chains on the wall. They had spikes inside the neck and wrists. He chained her up and she moaned when the spikes invaded the punctures in her neck. "Now you won't cause any further mischief. Stop rattling those chains—they have magical qualities, so you won't be able to break the restraints in your weakened state. You'll have no choice but to watch me torment your pathetic allies." He looked down at her, lust lighting up his eyes. "How beautiful you look in your pain and helplessness." Simon stroked her cheek and kissed her.

When he kissed her, she bit him, and he slapped her hard. "Stop resisting, child. How many times have your tried to soothe your mind with the false notion that you would spurn me if you had a second chance?" Simon laughed and gestured to Jimmy and Charles. "Now you know the truth—you are mine, and you always will choose me. Did you or that fool honestly think such a transparent scheme could work? You cannot deceive me, Meghann. I knew you were playing a role—or rather that you flattered yourself with the idea you were playing a role. I also knew you could not allow anyone to hurt me; your loyalties still lie with me. Now your lover is barely alive, and that wretched sodomite who lured you from me will not see another night on this earth."

"No, I don't want them to die…" she sobbed.

"Your wants do not concern me."

"I saved your life," she hissed. "Isn't that enough? Can't you let them go?"

"Don't be silly. At any moment, I could have taken the stake from that wretched cur. I simply preferred to make you do it. Let them go? Sweet, I've so looked forward to this moment… when you realize that I am all you have in this world. Meghann, even if I did not have strong reason to savor their pain, I could not allow them to live."

"Please," she begged, "don't make me watch everyone I love die!"

Simon drank from her again, from a vein in her breast through the flimsy material of her gown. She howled in pain… and some slight feeling of desire. He saw that and smiled cruelly. "It is your love for them that is their downfall. I know you, Meghann. You continue to deny your love for me because they give you false courage. If they are dead, if you have nothing to cling to, I shall have you eating from my hand."

Meghann spat on him. "If they die, I'll end my own life rather than be at your side!"

"Sweetheart, I am trying very hard to control my temper. But I won't be so nice if you continue to defy me. Now beg my pardon."

"Go to hell, you vicious beast!"

"You received psychic impressions when you wandered the halls, right, Meghann?"

She glared—unsure where this was going.

"Sweetheart, I have a large cauldron burning over a fireplace in the next room. Reach out with your senses—you'll detect the odor and know I do not lie."

Meghann sniffed hard, and choked at the foul smell.

"It is melting copper—a phrase you have used to describe my eyes in your sweeter, more poetic moments. Shall I pour it down your lover's throat? You may have some small skill in healing him, but I do believe he would die long before you could help him."

Her eyes widened, and he grinned at her shock. "Will you show your master the proper deference?"

All she could do was nod.

"Very good—but first we need an audience." Ignoring the unconscious vampire on the floor, Simon picked Jimmy up and attached him to a set of chains across the room from Meghann—where he had a very clear view of her. Simon put his hand on the mortal; he woke up again.

Jimmy no longer felt human—he was a damned puppet in the hands of these vampires. They could awaken him, knock him out, heal him, hurt him—until this moment, he had not realized how truly different Maggie was from him.

"You will realize a great deal before the moment comes when I smash your limbs upon the wheel and carefully interweave your bones into the spokes, leaving you to die slowly and horribly tomorrow while my consort and I rest. Meghann and I have come to an understanding while you were… indisposed." Simon walked back to Meghann, running one hand over the length of her body. "She's absolutely beautiful, isn't she?"

"Please," she whimpered.

"Are you defying me, little one?"

"No, Master," she answered lifelessly.

"Of course not." Simon took a straight-edge razor out of his pocket and used it to slice through her dress, also cutting her skin. He admired the straight crimson slash on her torso, and put his mouth to the wound.

Jimmy turned his head away in disgust.

"Our activities do not meet with your mortal paramour's approval, little one. Perhaps he'd like to see another game… Confession, maybe?"

"What shall I confess, Master?" Meghann inquired in the same dull tone.

"What you said to me last night."

"I love you."

"No, no—you already said that. Tell me, why did the boy-lover tell you to take that tact?"

"He said you would believe me because you wanted to believe me."

"I want very much to believe you will accept me, embrace my ways. But I understand you spent far too many years absorbing the pontiffs sanctimonious creed to do that easily. Surely, there was another reason I was supposed to accept your sweet words?"

Meghann shrugged. "Because on some level they were true."

"On every level," the fiend corrected her. "You do love me. Someday when these pathetic worms are no more, that admission won't cost you so much. But in the meantime, I can savor your pain almost as much I will savor the moment when you truly give yourself to me. Now tell this wretch what else you said."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

Simon stroked her wounded breast—his grin widened when Jimmy Delacroix started to howl in helpless rage. "Allow me to refresh your memory, my love. You were on my altar, writhing beneath me while I drank your blood…"

Her lips curled, and Jimmy thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes. Or maybe it was the candlelight. But she said quietly, "I said I belong to you."

"Louder."

"I said I belong to you!" she shrieked. "Now, please, let them go! Torture me all you want, but let them go!"

"I have no desire to torture you, little one. Your friends are another matter. But for now… you belong to me, and I intend to prove that to your little boy toy before he dies." Simon leaned down and started kissing her. "You'll scream for me, Meghann," he murmured. "You'll forget your worthless allies and yearn for me as you always have."

Jimmy thought he'd almost rather go back on the rack—anything but watch that devil paw Maggie. And why didn't she turn away? Didn't she have any pride? What had happened to the woman he loved? Had Simon managed to destroy her completely? Jimmy took one last sickened look at the couple—Simon was kissing her breasts. But then Maggie held his eyes… and he could not believe it when her mouth stretched into a grin and she winked at him. Jimmy's mouth fell open and then his eyes fell to the floor where he noticed Charles sit up and yank the stake out of his own heart. There was almost no blood from the wound, and he didn't appear to be suffering…

Simon had noticed the change in her too. He raised his head and looked at the sparkling eyes and wicked smirk. Meghann saw shock on his face—he had not expected this.

In the same moment that he whipped around to deal with Charles, the vampire took all the energy he had summoned while he lay ignored on the floor and flung it toward Meghann.

She felt the energy enter her soul, and used it to scream out for the assistance they so desperately needed to slaughter Simon. "Isabelle!" Meghann screamed with all her strength—nearly shattering Jimmy's eardrums.

He ignored the humming sound in his ears—he was far too amazed by what he saw happen next. "Holy shit," Jimmy muttered when Simon flew across the room to land on the rack. Some unseen force shoved him back down when he tried to sit up, and the slack ropes attached themselves to his wrists and ankles. Jimmy felt utter fury and hatred in the room, but he sensed it wasn't directed at him—it was all focused on Simon Baldevar and the ropes stretching his body farther apart.

Charles pulled the restraints off his friend, and she rushed over to the tote bag. Meghann pulled on her black shirt and jeans—no way she was standing around looking like Simon's sex slave. Charles took out a lethal hatchet.

"What the hell is going on?" Jimmy inquired from his chained post. Charles stretched his hand out, and the manacles opened. Meghann was at his side in an instant—holding him up to prevent him from falling.

He tried to put his arms around her, but he was too weak. Together they made their way over to the rack where the machine was rapidly winding up to break every bone in Simon's body.

Charles held the hatchet over Simon's head, but Meghann restrained him. "Not so fast—I've waited far too long for this."

She leaned down, in the precise spot where Simon had whispered to Jimmy while he was on the rack, and began her own monologue. "You're not the only one who knows how to lace instruments with magical properties, Master," she taunted him while the rack stretched his limbs. "You were so eager to stab Charles you never even felt the healing potion we drenched the stake in. You dared to speak to me of overweening pride! Your ego and conceit allowed you to believe I'd betray my dearest friend and lover out of love for you. And I knew damn well you'd ignore Charles because there was no way you could pass up an opportunity to degrade me in front of Jimmy, leave us both with nothing." She smiled at the light sheen of perspiration covering Simon's body, at his clenched jaw. "Trying not to scream? How many times did Isabelle bite down on her lip to keep from giving you the satisfaction of seeing her agony? I am honored to help her destroy you. I'm sure she'll see to it that your death is slow and painful, a fitting end to your miserable existence." She kissed his cheek with mocking tenderness, then spat on him. "That's for Alcuin. I almost feel sorry for you, Master. After all those centuries, you fell in love," she said in a singsong, vicious whisper. "Actually had tender feelings for someone. But you're just not good enough for me. I have a lover—someone who makes you look like the low, vicious scum you are." She yanked his eyes open, and kissed Jimmy Delacroix on the mouth.

Now it was Jimmy who leaned down and slapped the helpless vampire across the face. Then he gave Simon a lopsided grin. "I told you the night would end with Maggie telling you she loved me."

For the next part of her revenge, Meghann meant to drain his blood while he was in pain, then let Charles cut off his head. But when her mouth touched his neck, she felt her throat close up with tears. She had to fight to keep herself from undoing his restraints, from pulling him close and ending his pain. What on earth was wrong with her? Meghann knew—she did love him, some part of her actually had tender feelings for this evil creature. Her trembling hand fell on the pulse in his neck; then her eyes widened. Simon was not in pain at all—his jaw was clenched because he was concentrating. Meghann, I cannot help you much longer, a feminine voice whispered.

She backed away from the rack, trembling and pale as a ghost. "Now!" she ordered Charles.

He did not know what was making her so uneasy, but he brought the blade down to Simon's neck… and screamed when the thing disintegrated. The hatchet simply fell apart in his hands. The wood handle snapped in half, and the blade shattered into a thousand harmless pieces.

"Abi in malam tern, Isabelle!" Simon thundered so loudly the heavy wooden rack trembled.

Now Isabelle's presence had been banished. Meghann and Charles were all alone with a diabolical fiend they had failed to slay. And Meghann had not simply attempted to kill him—she'd reviled him with that castigating speech in front of the two people he despised most What would happen to them now?

The steel door slammed shut, blowing out the few candles in the room. Jimmy could not see anything, but Meghann and Charles could see far more than they wished. When the ropes holding him down simply vanished, Simon sat up and instilled in the young vampires the same fear Jimmy had felt earlier when Simon opened his saffron eyes.

Meghann tried to step away from the rack, and her master's hand lashed out to grab her.

"Let her go!" Charles screamed.

Simon waved his other hand, and Charles flew off his feet, crashing into Jimmy.

"What's going on?" the mortal whispered to Charles.

Meghann watched helplessly while an evil, shadowy form sprang up from the stone floor behind Jimmy and Charles. Simon held her in an iron vise while the thing grabbed Jimmy. He could not see it but felt the pain when one specter claw mauled his cheek down to the gum. Charles was able to repel the thing when it tried to attack him, but he could not help Jimmy. Nor could he break through the malevolent force that prevented him from taking one step toward Meghann.

"Maggie!" Jimmy howled. "Help me!"

"Jimmy!" she yelled, thrashing around in a desperate attempt to break Simon's fierce grip.

Simon spun her around and backhanded her viciously enough to make her fall to the ground; then he yanked her up by the hair. A dagger flew off the stone table to land in his hand. When he put it to her cheek, Meghann felt the power within the blade—if that thing cut her, the wounds would remain forever.

"Trying not to scream?" Simon mimicked while he pressed the blade against her skin. His amber eyes blazed with fury and hurt. "I gave you my love and you attempted to use that to make a fool out of me. The only reason I do not kill you where you stand is that you wanted to cry when you thought I might be in pain. Maybe those two fools were deceived by your harsh, spiteful words, but you wanted to help me in the penultimate moment, didn't you?"

When she didn't answer, the monster that held Jimmy ran its half-seen talons across his stomach.

Don't make me ask you again, Meghann.

She glanced up at him. Yes, I wanted to help you, she told him.

Simon gave her a twisted grin. Proud to the very end, my darling. God forbid those idiots should hear you admit what you feel toward me, isn't that right? Now say that aloud… and perhaps your lover's end will not be the excruciating torment I have in mind.

"I wanted to help you!" she screamed. "I hated the thought of you being in pain."

Simon ran a hand over her bruised cheek. I love you, Meghann.

Dumbfounded, she looked up at him.

Simon saw her amazement and laughed cruelly. Then he brushed her forehead with his lips.

Simon tilted her head up, kissing her in the same gentle manner he'd used the night before. Then he pushed her away from him.

But I am outraged that you would attempt to use your amateurish talents to hurt me. I'm through spoiling you, little one. It is time for you to learn why you never want me to hate you. Go to your friends now. See how long you can stand against me before you plead for me to take you back. Perhaps I will… or I might just allow you the painful death your foolish conscience makes you think you want.

Simon picked her up by the hair, flinging her against Charles. They clung to each other again; neither could think of one thing they could do to save their lives or Jimmy's.

Meghann looked behind her. The shadow being had vanished, but Jimmy had fainted again. She decided to leave him unconscious… There was no need to expose him to whatever Simon had in mind now.

"Meghann." For the first time, she heard Simon Baldevar address her as he did all others—with no love, just that detachment and lack of empathy that allowed him to commit any atrocity he wished. It made her shiver violently, small beads of perspiration forming on her forehead. "Truly, I hoped it would not come to this. But you leave me no other choice."