Three months ago, after the woman had disappeared, Susan had been at a loss. She had no direction or inspiration in her work and was nearly in despair when she finally decided to continue her a.n.a.lysis on the woman's remaining blood samples.

The implications of the chemical make-up of the blood had been too much to resist. Longevity, immunity, strength, energy, all would be affected by the chemical "imbalances" that existed in the woman's system. Susan would never publish anything about the woman's anatomy because it was too unbelievable, not to mention she had no proof. But the possibilities within the blood sample were irresistible.

Susan had never stated in the peer-reviewed journal article that she had balanced the L-gulonolactone enzyme within the blood, but of course everyone a.s.sumed she had. As Stanley had so aptly put it, it was expected for her to hide the details of her methodology. The biotechnical community was already salivating at the prospect of genetic engineering that would allow humans to produce their own Vitamin C. No researcher in her right mind would publish the process describing how to do so.

Susan moved into the console room. But she hadn't designed a process; she had simply described what had been in the woman's system, and only a very small part of it at that. Susan tried to rationalize her actions, to tell herself that the potential benefits to humankind far outweighed any procedural ambiguity in the article.

But the rationalization weighed heavily on Susan as she gazed through the replacement window into the sterile, empty room. She wondered uneasily if she were not selling her soul to the devil, one small piece at a time.

Susan glanced in on Jason, who was sleeping soundly. She smiled at the sight of his redhead cushioned on the flannel pillowcase, marveling at the sleep of the innocent.

She shuffled down the stairs, debating whether to have the cold chicken in the refrigerator. Neda had cooked dinner for them earlier, then left for the evening. The leftovers were now calling her name.

Susan walked into the kitchen. It was dark, but the light from the full moon shown through the window. She opened the refrigerator door and the interior light provided more illumination. She began to peruse the contents. There was fried chicken, potato salad, a slice of chocolate cake...

Susan settled for her original thought, the fried chicken. She pulled the foil-wrapped plate from the shelf and set in the cabinet next to her. She closed the refrigerator door, turning as she did so...

And walked full into a large, immovable object.

Susan screamed and tried to step back, but her arm was encased in steel. She started to scream a second time but choked it back as her thoughts flew to Jason. She did not want to wake him.

So great was the strength of her attacker that not only could Susan not escape, she could not even move. The power of the person holding her was inhuman, and she could not push or pull her arm even a fraction of an inch. The force generated by the grip and the unwavering balance of the person maintaining that grip was uncanny, so strange that Susan actually stopped struggling.

The golden-haired woman stepped into the light, maintaining her effortless grasp on Susan's arm. Her face was impa.s.sive as she stared down at Susan. With a measured gaze, she slowly released her grip.

Susan stared up at the woman, disbelief evident on her features. She was so stunned she would not have been able to flee had she wanted to. Her arm fell heavily to her side.

"You," the woman said, nodding at the kitchen table, "have made a terrible mistake."

The woman's voice was melodious, strange. Far too old and polished for the youthful face it represented. It took a moment for her words to register, and Susan turned to see what the woman indicated when she spoke.

The medical journal with her most recent publication was lying on the table. Susan felt a wave of guilt wash over her. The fact that this woman had broken into her house and accosted her became secondary to defending her integrity.

"I never said I created the process," Susan began defensively, "I was simply explaining what I found. If people-"

"No," the woman interrupted softly, amused, "you don't understand." There was the faintest trace of ridicule in her voice. "I care nothing for your findings, or the ethics of your publishing." The woman paused, glancing around the room. Her gaze returned to Susan. "You have placed yourself in great danger."

Susan caught her breath and took a step backward. As if in response, the woman glanced upward at the ceiling, then back at Susan. "You have a child in the house, do you not?"

Susan still was not breathing as the woman murmured, almost to herself, "I can hear his heartbeat."

Susan turned to run, but no sooner had she made the decision, then the woman was in front of her, looking down.

"I will not harm you," she said.

Susan's own heartbeat was so loud now she was sure the woman could hear it. There was no way humanly possible the woman could have moved so quickly. Susan tried to still the tremble in her voice. "But you just said I was in great danger."

The woman shook her head. "Not from me." The woman turned, as if she were unconcerned at Susan's attempt to escape. Susan debated a second attempt, but the woman was now between her and the staircase. She would not leave Jason.

The woman kneeled to look at an antique rocker. "I used to have one of these," she said absently. She glanced around the room with interest, then stood upright once more. Her tone changed from conversational to deadly serious as she turned her full attention on Susan.

"There are others like me," the woman said. "They will know you've studied one of their Kind, and they'll come for you."

"What are you talking about?" Susan asked fearfully. "What do you mean, *others like you'?"

The woman smiled, a smile revealing no teeth. "You studied enough of my body to at least partially understand my words, Dr. Ryerson. I have no inclination to stand here and try to convince you of their truth. The fact of the matter is, you have placed your life and the life of your son in danger. And," she added, as if this were an even greater consequence, "you have inconvenienced me."

Susan was flabbergasted, momentarily speechless at the woman's arrogance. The woman took this silence as acceptance of blame, and turned to leave.

"Wait a minute," Susan said, her anger finally overcoming her fear, "you can't just break into my house, threaten me, then just walk away. I'm calling the police."

The sudden coldness in the woman's eyes stopped Susan dead in her tracks. Her face took on a strange expression: aloof, dispa.s.sionate, predatory. It was completely incongruent with her youthful beauty, yet somehow fit perfectly on her features.

"Dr. Ryerson," the woman said patiently, as if addressing a child, "you will find I can and will do anything I want."

And with that, she was gone.

The outer gates opened silently inward to admit the Mercedes convertible. An invisible guard stared through darkly tinted windows from within the guard shack. He nodded deferentially, although he could hardly be seen through the blacked-out windows at night.

The car pulled smoothly up the long driveway lined with maple trees. Hidden cameras whirred quietly as they tracked the vehicle's approach. The car whispered to a stop in front of a marble staircase that led upward into the brightly lit mansion. No sooner had the vehicle come to a stop than a man in uniform appeared seemingly out of thin air to open the driver's door. The golden-haired woman stepped from the car, paying little attention to the servant who bowed to her. Her disinterest was not interpreted as disrespect, but rather as expected. Indeed, the man would have been shocked and perhaps a little afraid had the woman shown him any attention at all.

She moved gracefully up the steps and had no sooner reached the top when the front doors whispered outward as if on command. Without breaking stride she stepped into the huge foyer. The butler in the doorway kept his head bowed deferentially until she pa.s.sed, then closed the doors behind her. A young man in black pants and a starched white shirt stepped forward to offer her service, but she waved him off, barely slowing. She walked into the den, a dark-paneled room lined with shelves and thousands of books from floor to ceiling. She picked up some mail from the desk, her back to the shadows.

"What news, Edward?" she said casually over her shoulder The older man stepped from the shadows. He knew she was aware of his presence, but would not have stepped forth until she acknowledged him. His patrician features were expressionless as he answered her query.

"Nothing yet," he replied in a clipped, British accent. He set a copy of a popular newsmagazine in front of her. "But now it's only a matter of time."

The woman glanced at the magazine, feigning unconcern, but Edward knew her too well. "Yes," she said calmly, "this could cause complications."

The golden-haired one sprawled in the chair and Edward moved to the front of the desk. He chose his words carefully.

"My lord," he began, "have you considered the possibility of simply killing Dr. Ryerson?"

Neither the startling suggestion nor the odd, incongruent t.i.tle that preceded it seemed to draw her attention. She stared at the magazine in front of her.

"I have considered that option," she replied calmly, using the same dispa.s.sionate tone he used. She looked up at him. "And what of her boy?"

The thought of orphaning the boy apparently did not faze Edward. "He would be cared for the rest of his life. It is a small price to pay."

The young woman was silent for a long moment. When she glanced up at the older man, her words were many-layered.

"Then the boy would have no mother."

This momentarily brought the valet to silence. Only his great concern for his master caused him to continue.

"You could bring Dr. Ryerson and her son here, where they would be safe."

The woman now gazed at him with amus.e.m.e.nt. "And imprison her? I hardly think that's an acceptable solution, either. No," she said, lifting the magazine then replacing it on the desk, "I think perhaps we will just wait for now. What comes," she said fatalistically, "will come."

Edward inwardly sighed. He would not argue with her, indeed, could never even bring himself to cross her. But as he stood with a distant look in his eyes, his senses straining the night, he knew that no good would come of this situation.

CHAPTER 14.

JASON PRESSED HIS FACE AGAINST THE WINDOW of the pet store in the mall. Tiny puppies frolicked in the warm hay and he desperately wanted to hold them. The shopkeeper peered out the window at the youngster, sensing his desire. He motioned Jason in.

Jason looked over at his mom who had taken a seat nearby. Susan waved him on and he disappeared inside. She could see him from where she sat, and smiled when the wriggling puppy covered his freckled face with kisses.

The smile did not remain on her face long, however, and her gloomy thoughts returned.

Susan had not told anyone about the woman's break-in. Indeed, the incident seemed so unreal to her that she considered the possibility she had dreamed it. But she could not maintain that illusion for very long; she knew it had happened.

There were so many things about the incident that baffled Susan. How had the woman gotten into her house? Why? How had she moved so quickly? How could she be so strong? What did her strange warning mean?

Susan rubbed her wrist, feeling the woman's vise-like grip even now. The incident terrified her, yet curiosity was beginning to compete with that terror. The woman could have hurt her if she wished, probably even killed her. Yet beyond bruising her wrist to keep her from fleeing, she had not harmed Susan. She had not broken anything, nor had she stolen anything. She had simply appeared out of nowhere, issued her warning, then disappeared.

Susan thought about the woman's words. The woman was aware of the journal article, but was not upset that Susan had performed research on her without her consent. Nor did she seem disturbed by the fact that Susan was receiving credit for the findings. She was concerned only with the "danger" that Susan had allegedly brought upon herself. And based upon her statement of her own "inconvenience" outweighing that danger, it did not seem the woman was greatly disturbed by even that.

"Can we get a dog, mom?"

Jason's voice intruded into her thoughts. Susan stared at her son, brushing the thoughts away. She was nearly moved by the longing in her son's voice. She stiffened her resolve, however, and shook her head. "You know we don't have any room, Jason. We don't even have a backyard."

Jason turned as if to reason with his mother. "It could live in the house. It could live in my room with me. I'll take care of it."

Susan smiled at her son's attempt at persuasion.

"They're clever at that age, aren't they?

Susan turned at the voice. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts she hadn't noticed the figure that now sat next to her. Surprising, since he was extremely handsome.

"Yes," she replied, trying not to stare at him, "they certainly are."

The man turned to her and smiled and Susan felt her heart flutter. He was probably ten years younger than she was but that didn't seem to matter at the moment. He stood, straightening his pants, then nodded to her, "Have a nice day."

Susan watched the young man's retreating back, disappointed at his abrupt departure. She thought it odd he had initiated so brief a conversation and wondered how long he had been sitting there. She shrugged and reached down to grasp Jason's hand.

"Come on, kiddo, maybe next time."

Jason immediately brightened at the thought. "For real, mom? We might get a puppy some day?"

Susan glanced down at him. "I'll think about it. How about that?"

This seemed to satisfy him and he hung on her arm as the two walked to the exit of the mall. They were outside in the brisk air only a moment before entering the parking structure. It seemed to get cold as soon as the sun went down these days. They walked up the ramp toward their car.

"Smells like gas in here, mom."

Susan smiled at his inquisitive nature. Actually, it smelled strongly of emissions, but he was close enough.

"I see our car, I see our car," he began chanting. He broke away from her and began running toward it.

"Jason," she called out, "be careful."

She caught up with him just as he reached their Lexus. He tapped the b.u.mper. "I win."

Susan removed her keys from her purse. "Okay," she said, "you win." She turned to place the key in the doorlock, b.u.mping the figure that was there. She stepped back, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, stepping back, "I didn't see you."

The figure stepped forward and Susan was surprised to see it was the handsome young man. He smiled at her but it was a cold smile and Susan had sudden misgivings. It seemed entirely too coincidental that he had been in the mall and was now here.

"No problem," he said smoothly, "can I get that for you?"

Susan took a step backward, unconsciously clutching the keys to her body. "No," she said, "that's all right. Thank you."

Susan took another step back and the man took another step forward. Susan held out her purse. "Look, if this is what you want, you can have it." She realized she was clutching the keys, and held them out as well. "If you want the car, you can have that too."

The young man's eyes flickered up and down her body and his tone was insolent. "You don't seem to realize I can have anything I want."

The words were oddly familiar. Susan pushed the irrelevant thought away, trying to concentrate on the situation at hand. She tried to steady her voice, hoping and praying that someone, anyone, would appear in the deserted parking structure. "And what is it you want?" Susan asked, attempting another step backward The man's arm flashed out, grabbing her by the throat and yanking her to him with incredible strength. He leaned down to look in her face. "You should never have written that story," he said between clenched teeth. "Who did you find? Who was the one who betrayed us?"

Susan shook her head in denial, her eyes wide. Thoughts of the golden-haired woman flashed through her mind. "I don't know what you're talking about," she managed to croak out. The man's grip tightened, beginning to crush her windpipe.

"You lie," he snarled through gritted teeth, "who was it?"

Susan could see Jason's head peaking from behind the car. The thought of her son made her both afraid and brave. She began struggling wildly. The man holding her seemed surprised at her sudden surge of strength, but this merely caused him to tighten his grip.

Jason chose that moment to launch his a.s.sault. He ran forward and kicked the man in the shins. The man, without removing his eyes from Susan, shoved the little boy into the side of the car, knocking him unconscious. Susan desperately tried to catch sight of him as he fell, but wasn't able to because the man was holding her so tightly.

"That wasn't very nice," came a voice from the shadows.

The voice was smooth, melodious, the tone offhanded. The figure sounded almost bored, completely unmoved by the scene before it. Susan recognized the voice immediately.

The golden-haired woman stepped from the shadows. She was taller than the young man and stared down at him. The dangerous glint in her eye belied the lack of concern in her voice.

The young man underwent a startling transformation. The arrogance on his features disappeared and was immediately replaced by terror. He released Susan and she slumped to the ground next to Jason's p.r.o.ne body, rubbing the bruises on her throat. The woman moved closer, glancing down at the two then back at the young man. Her words were unconcerned.

"I think you should pick on someone your own size."

The young man tried to bolt but the woman's arm flashed out. She now held the young man by the throat and dragged him effortlessly to her. She gazed down at him as he began pleading.

"Oh my G.o.d," he sobbed, "I didn't know. I couldn't have known. I was told to come here by-"

The woman silenced him by placing her fingers on his lips. "It doesn't matter," she whispered to him. "It's too late."