Of course I could. I just didn't want to offer it to him. "Just say it, Cyrus."

He closed his eyes as if savoring a delicious meal. "I love the sound of my name on your lips. It's like music."

"I don't have time for this, just say it!" My vehemence startled me.

He clucked his tongue. "You have no appreciation for the dramatic. Fine. Promise you'll return to me, to stay, and I will help your precious 'Nathan.'"

I stuck out my hand in an attempt to appear confident. Instead of shaking it, he drew my fingers to his mouth and kissed the tip of each one. He might as well have set my hand on fire, for the scorching feeling that raced down my arm."Then it's settled." He strode to the doors and threw them open. "Dahlia!" His enraged call echoed through the dark foyer. Within moments, the room beyond the door flooded with light.

"You wanted me?" I heard her purr over the click of shoes on the marble floor. Then she screamed.

His hand tightly gripping her red curls, Cyrus yanked Dahlia into the room. She was dressed much the same as she had been the night I'd met her, in a tight black shirt and long skirt. The only difference I saw now was an abundance of jewelry, rings and necklaces all bearing silver pentagrams. Cyrus threw her to the floor, and she scrambled away as he kicked at her.

Normally I would have turned my head from such violence, but it was hard to feel pity for her after what she'd done. Especially since she'd intended to kill me.

She didn't beg for mercy when he grabbed her again and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. His face changed and he bared his fangs.

Dahlia didn't recoil, but I did. That face summoned the memory of glass piercing my skull, the slippery pools of human organs under my knees, and the sensation of being powerless in the grasp of a killer. I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp.

Cyrus's eyes flickered over my face for an instant. His grotesque face actually registered some emotion then, and I thought it was regret. He didn't like that he'd scared me.

He dropped Dahlia and let his features shift back to normal. "You tried to kill her!"

Now she did whimper, as though she knew her lies would prove useless. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You're lucky this turned out so well for me, you sniveling bitch. Else I'd hand you over to the Fangs when they arrive." He stalked a circle around her as he spoke.

"No!" She reached for him, clinging to his leg. "I killed that bookstore guy for you! You should be happy."

He pulled away from her grasp as if he'd been touched by a leper. "You're not allowed to kill whenever you please! How can you expect me to turn you when you have no self-control?"

Her face paled. "What do you want me to do? I'll do whatever I have to. Just tell me what you want me to do!"

Cyrus rocked back on his heels, feigning consideration. "If there was a way to reverse what you did to him, what would it take?"

"An antidote," she said as she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"And where would I find this antidote?" he asked patiently.

Tears shone on her face. "In my room."

"Why don't you go and get it, then?" He dismissed her as easily as telling a child to run along and play.

"Thank you," I whispered when she had gone.

"This is not a gift, Carrie. Don't mistake it as such."

"It's not a gift, but it's the decent thing to do. Even if you are being paid for it." I glared at him, hoping to make him feel the true weight of my words.

He crossed to me and cupped my cheek in his palm. "Poor little girl. Is the Big Bad Wolf taking advantage of you?" I tried to turn my face away, but he grasped my chin and forced my lips to his. I opened my mouth beneath his, my blood both searing hot and prickling cold as it coursed through my veins. His excitement fed my own. His sharp claws raked my back through my shirt, tracing the column of my spine. I couldn't get enough of his tongue against mine, his breath against my lips.

He drew away, leaving me panting and flushed while he was as unaffected as someone who'd just received a dental exam. But when he lifted his hand to brush back a strand of his long, nearly white hair, his hands shook. "Believe that all you want, Carrie.

But when you needed help, you didn't call the Movement first. I wasn't a last resort. I was a choice."

My body shook with the violence of the truth.

We glared at each other in antagonistic silence until Dahlia entered. She cleared her throat at the doorway and shot me a murderous glance. "I've got your fucking antidote." Cyrus reached out a hand to take the vial from her and she practically threw it at him. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and turned away. "Now, be a good girl and move your things to one of the servant's rooms. Carrie will need the guest suite."

I expected an outburst, but all she did was watch Cyrus. The full realization of his words-that I was usurping her place-hadn't yet dawned on her. I didn't want to be around when she made the connection.

Returning to my side, Cyrus slipped the vial into the palm of my hand. I stared hard at it. This was the price of my freedom. I could smash it on the floor and never have to come back.

"But you won't." He arched a knowing brow at my thought. "Your word means too much. You'll take this to Nolen, see him safely recovered and return to me tomorrow night after sunset."

"How do I know this won't do him more harm?" I called to Dahlia. I don't think she even saw me, though she looked right at me.

Cyrus drew my attention back. "It won't. She knows what will happen if she's lied."

She broke then, her back shaking with muted sobs as she covered her face with one hand. I'd never seen anyone cry so gracefully, and I'd seen plenty of tears in my life. But Cyrus didn't seem to notice. He kissed my forehead and gave me a push toward the door. "Go now, the sun will be up soon."

He didn't follow me. I hesitated as I passed Dahlia. I don't know if I meant to offer comfort or rub salt in her wounds, but when she looked up with hate-filled eyes, I kept walking.

The foyer blazed with light as bulbs crackled and shattered with the force of Dahlia's anger.

"Sunset," Cyrus called after me. "Don't make me come get you."

Nine

Antidote

I left the house as a shower of sparks exploded from the electric fixtures in the foyer. This time, I did run down the lawn, but only to buy us a little time. With no knowledge of how Nathan would react to the antidote, I wanted to get him to a safe place before it took effect.

Ziggy had left the driver's seat, presumably to tend to Nathan. I pounded on the back doors and stepped away as they flew open.

Ziggy crouched over Nathan's body, a wooden stake aimed straight for my heart.

When he recognized me, he dropped the weapon. "Sorry. Can't be too careful."

"It's all right," I grunted, pulling the doors closed behind me as I climbed into the van. "How is he?" "Alive, but that's not saying much. What'd you find out?"

I showed him the antidote, which gleamed a muddy blue in the glass vial. "Drive. I'll pour it down his throat, and hopefully it won't kick in until we're back at the apartment."

"What do you mean?" Ziggy pulled the canvas partition back and slid behind the wheel.

"Because I have no idea what it's going to do to him."

As the engine sputtered to life, I carefully made my way to Nathan's head. The van lurched away from the curb, tossing me flat across his chest.

The contact was sudden and startling. Even unconscious, with no blood tie connecting us, I was still attracted to him. Despite the fact he'd lied about his identity. Or that he didn't tell me he was vampiricly related to my sire. I reminded myself of what I'd sacrificed for this favor.

I opened the vial and poured the contents into his half-open mouth. I hope it tastes terrible, I thought with a petulant frown. Then I rocked back on my heels and waited. Why had I done this? When I'd set out to help him, I'd felt I'd been doing it for a friend.

And when I found I barely knew him after all, I still plowed on ahead.

I didn't want to acknowledge the fact that Cyrus might have been right. Nathan's-or Nolen's-predicament could have been handled by the Movement, but my first instinct had been to run to my sire.

I knelt over Nathan and felt for a pulse. Nothing. No breath. No reflexes.

Defeated, I lay down next to him, out of necessity more than familiarity. My body ached with fatigue. My emotions were a mess.

The one person I'd thought I was safe with, well, not safe exactly, but safer, wasn't who I'd believed him to be. That he was dead was icing on the worst cake in history. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried to cry without Ziggy hearing me.

Then, like a miracle, Nathan groaned and mumbled something that sounded like "get off" as he swatted at me. He gagged and choked, sputtering a little of the antidote over the front of his shirt. But he'd swallowed enough. He was alive.

I sat up in shock. "I thought you were dead!"

"I wish I were," he said when he could finally speak. He rose on his elbows and clutched his head. "What happened?"

"We were..." I paused. "Um, what's the last thing you remember?"

His answering grin made my face grow hot.

"Well, you just suddenly sort of passed out."

He rubbed his temples. "Why would I go and do something stupid like that?"

"You didn't. Dahlia did."

He flopped back onto the goldenrod shag carpeting and closed his eyes. "We're in the van?"

"Yeah, we had to get you out of the building. It was kind of..." I trailed off as I tried to tell him his livelihood was gone.

"On fucking fire!" Ziggy supplied from the front seat. "Oh, man, am I glad you're awake."

An angry car horn pulled his attention back to the road as the van swerved violently. I sunk my fingers into the dirty carpet. It was the only thing to hold on to."Ziggy! Eyes on the road!" Nathan commanded, though his voice was still a little weak. He turned back to me. "The building is gone?"

I shifted uneasily. "Maybe not. The fire trucks were showing up just as we left."

"Great. Just great." He covered his face with his hands, and I saw the hard muscles of his stomach shake beneath his T-shirt. I really hoped he wasn't crying. But in the next instant, delirious laughter poured out of him.

"What's so funny?" He was taking this far too well.

"Nothing, nothing." He rubbed his hands down his cheeks, stretching the stubble-dusted skin. "You know, up until about a month ago, things were completely normal in my life. All it takes is one fax from the Movement, and I'm knee-deep in chaos again."

Nathan sighed. "So, Dahlia attacked me. She's never done that before."

"She was trying to do Cyrus a favor," I told him.

"Okay, folks," Ziggy called as the van squealed to a halt. "The sun is just below the tree line. I suggest you run like hell."

Within seconds, the back doors burst open. The dim morning light stung my eyes. Nathan recoiled.

"Take the keys!" Ziggy shouted.

I grabbed them and jumped out.

To my monumental relief, the building still stood. The flames had been extinguished, and soot covered the firemen that milled around their truck. Two police cars with whirling lights blocked off the sidewalk. It looked as if the bookstore took the extent of the damage.

A young, cocky-looking police officer swaggered over when he caught sight of us. "Getting in a little late, are we?"

Before I could respond, Ziggy stepped from the rear of the van, Nathan leaning heavily on his shoulder. "Whoo, we need to get him upstairs before he ralphs again. Oh, my God...what happened to the bookstore? We live right upstairs."

As I watched, Nathan lolled his head to the side like a passed-out drunk. The cop scowled at him. "There was a fire but we were able to put it out. Is your friend there gonna be okay?"

He'd aimed the question at me. Too tired to think of a lie, I opened and closed my mouth and made a few vague noises. Ziggy's urging stare burned into the back of my skull. It must have transmitted some connection in my brain so I could speak again, because words began to pour from me. "He'll be fine. I should know. I'm a doctor."

"O...kay." The officer reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a notepad. Apparently I wasn't going anywhere for a while. "I need to ask some questions."

The skin on the back of my neck began to blister from the sunlight. I heard Nathan do a bad impression of someone about to throw up. I turned, and Ziggy gave Nathan a shove, propelling him toward me.

"It's your turn to deal with the puke this time. I'll stay and talk to the officer. If he needs to ask you anything else, I'll bring him upstairs." Ziggy flashed a big grin at the policeman. "If that's okay with you?"

Nathan wretched again, this time more convincingly, and the cop moved back. "Yeah, get him out of here before I have to cite him for drunk-and-disorderly conduct. It's safe to go up. The fire marshall has cleared the building of any structural damage, and the apartment has been cleared, too."

With Nathan hanging awkwardly on my shoulder, we hurried for the door. As soon as it was closed, Nathan rushed up the stairs and headed straight for the bathroom.Apparently he was a method actor.

"Holy hell," I said with a whistle as he clutched the toilet bowl and vomited. I pulled a hand towel off the rack and wetted it under the faucet. "That's a lot of puke."

I knelt beside him and held the compress to his forehead, putting one arm around his quivering back. "Don't fight it."

"You should have been a nurse instead of a doctor," he wheezed. His body trembled with the chills that inevitably follow vomiting.

"Or a mom."

I laughed out loud. "Yeah. I'm not sure that was in the cards for me."