A human leech? An insecure little b.i.t.c.h? A spoiled, moody daddy's girl? A contender for the Jewish-American Princess crown? h.e.l.l, Gwen could take that ball and run with it in any number of directions.

"Take a stab at it," she suggested.

"She seems distracted, and more than a little disconnected. She's more jealous, sometimes to the point of paranoia."

This sounded fairly serious. Until this moment, Gwen had had no intention of telling Marcy about her encounter with Trudy. But if there was a pattern happening, it might be an important piece of information.

"I guess I should tell you that Trudy took a swing at me the other day."

"Seriously?"

"As serious as a b.i.t.c.h slap is ever going to get. One of these days you should let me show you two how to throw a decent punch."

She could almost hear Marcy's shudder over the phone. "Oh yeah-that's exactly what Trudy needs rightnow. But we all have our moods," she added hastily. "This will pa.s.s."

"Okay," Gwen agreed. "Moving on?"

"Please. And may I say, you showed remarkable restraint."

"I thought so. About Kyle-has he contacted you recently?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

The wary sound in Marcy's voice suggested that this hadn't been an unfamiliar question of late. "Just so you know, I'm going to be taking a close look at your ex. It seems his wife was fooling around. A lot.

There's some question of paternity."

"Kyle knows this?"

"Yeah. He said he just found out yesterday, but with Erin and Patrick gone, the timing doesn't look good."

Marcy blew out a long breath. "Kyle's not stupid enough to do a Scott Peterson imitation. A wife and child are not easily discarded."

"It's not a question of stupidity; it's a question of arrogance."

"Is there really much difference?"

"Good point. Listen, I just wanted to let you know how this might go."

"Thanks. Keep me posted, okay?"

Gwen clicked off her phone and started to look toward the clock. She caught herself in time and turned toward the office window, instead. If she was going to do this "cycles of nature" thing, she'd better start paying attention to what was going on.

Daylight was fading, and the velvety green shadows that gathered under the old trees were venturing out to welcome the coming night. The moon would soon be rising. The scene was very pretty and possibly even poetic, but it didn't do a d.a.m.n thing for her.

She gave up and looked at the clock. It was a quarter of seven. So much for being at one with the rising moon.

Gwen shut down her computer and headed for the garden.

Ian Forest was waiting for her under the old maple. One of these days, she'd have to ask him how he got around.

He greeted her with a smile that did interesting things to her heart rate. "Can you tell me where the moon will rise tonight?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea when and where the moon plans to rise, or what phase it's in. I don't feel a d.a.m.n thing. But I can tell you the names of the astronauts who landed on it, if that's any help."

A frown flickered across his face. "I suppose a certain lack of awareness is to be expected. Until just recently, you haven't been among others of your kind.""That makes a difference?"

"Of course. Qualities get stronger in proximity to others."

Gwen thought about that. "Then why are some of us left among humans as changelings? You'd think kids would grow up stronger if they were with their families, or at least with other people like them."

"You've just answered your own question. Not all Qualities are desirable in and of themselves, and some combinations can be dangerous. That's why we pay careful attention to genealogy."

"Except when you don't," Gwen said, suddenly understanding where this was going.

"Except when we don't," Ian agreed. "Sometimes we get... careless, and children are born of incompatible bloodlines. These children are put into fosterage with humans until their gifts begin to emerge. At that time, a determination is made."

"And then what?"

"It would depend, of course. Most often the young ones are brought in, taught what they are, and given a place among us."

"What about the rare exception? And what happens to the human babies?"

He hesitated. "Each case is decided separately."

"Yeah? Who decides?"

"That's not something of immediate concern to you. It's more important for you to concentrate on learning and controlling your abilities."

There was a strange note in his voice, and Gwen didn't think it was remorse over those lost young lives.

"You're worried about this third Quality, the starlight thing."

"These gifts usually begin to manifest in adolescence. Yes, I'm concerned that you have shown only two of the three." He gave her a slow, devastating smile. "Perhaps if we spend more personal time together, this gift will emerge."

"Nice try," she said dryly. "But if this works on a the-more-the-merrier basis, I know this guy who used to work for Edmonson. Adrian Archer. Maybe we should call him over, join hands, sing 'k.u.mbaya.'"

Ian reacted like a clap of thunder.

"There's another?" he demanded, seizing her arm. "Here in Providence? Describe him."

"Jesus, dial it down a notch or two, would you? He looks sort of like a young Brad Pitt, minus the stubble. Taller, thinner, blonder. What's the problem?"

He dropped her arm and began to pace. "I don't know this Adrian Archer. To the best of my knowledge, I was the only one of our kind in Edmonson's... employ. What were the circ.u.mstances of your meeting?"

"Meetings. Plural."

She described the theft in the lab out in Lincoln, the recent drug meet on the East Side, the recent meeting at the Extreme, and the strange result of the drug testing of one of the dancers.Ian nodded thoughtfully. "Of course I knew that drugs were available at Underhill and the other clubs, but it was my understanding that the humans-Tiger Leone, the Jamisons, and a few like them-handled that end of the business."

"Does it make a difference?"

"It might. It would certainly explain the results of the tests conducted on that dancer, and might also explain why your Captain Walsh was involved with Edmonson."

"They're selling something new, something law enforcement hasn't seen before."

"Not for several hundred years, certainly. Our people have long made potions from rare herbs, things that can have a rather profound effect on humans and none at all on us."

"What's the effect?"

"It would depend on the herb, and also its preparation. A mild infusion can be soothing. In stronger doses, these herbs usually act as some sort of stimulant."

"A mild infusion, you said," Gwen murmured. "Like a tea."

"Yes, that's right."

She considered the soothing herbal brew Alice Powers offered them at The Green Man. It did seem to have an effect on the woman-she calmed down as quickly as someone who'd popped a Valium. It had had a somewhat different effect on Jason, but then, he'd had about four cups of the stuff. And Jeff...

Suddenly the explanation for their two-person orgy became abundantly clear. Ditto his reserve on the phone. People coming off Ecstasy had one h.e.l.l of a drop. Since Jeff was sufficiently hung-over the next morning to miss work, he probably thought she'd slipped him something.

Which, in effect, she had.

"How could you make sure this drug is what you think it is?"

"I'd need a sample."

"I'm pretty sure I've got some."

A peculiar expression flitted over his face. "Have you tried it?"

"Yeah, when I thought it was some kind of herbal tea. It didn't do a thing for me, but a friend of mine had some. A lot of it, actually. It definitely had an effect on him."

"Is he still alive?"

She laughed shortly. "Yeah. It wasn't quite that good."

"I'm not sure I'm following you."

"This friend was over at my place. He mixed some concentrated tea with juice. He should have added water, but he didn't, and he drank a lot of it. It made him really frisky."

Ian's eyebrows rose. "The tea acted as an aphrodisiac?"

"That's right. The effect was fairly similar to how someone might act after a hit of X. The weird thing is, anormal cup of tea seems to have a calming effect."

"I know this herb," Ian said. "In different doses and manner of preparation, it mirrors the effect of popular street drugs: marijuana, amphetamines, and, as you have observed, Esctasy. Like marijuana, it is a completely natural substance, but the intoxicants it contains are quite different from any of the known illegal substances."

"So if this stuff was tested, it would look like herb tea."

"Or a capsule of powdered herbs, or even a small tablet," Ian concluded.

"So in any form, it's virtually undetectable," Gwen mused. "Is there a lot of this stuff around?"

"That seems unlikely."

"Then I can see why Edmonson wanted Walsh in on this. If one of his people got picked up for distribution, Walsh could arrange a switch. The tea leaves look and act like weed. I'm guessing the pills and capsules are made to look like street drugs."

"I would a.s.sume so, yes."

"So the dealer's lawyer has the stuff tested, and it looks like the only thing his client is guilty of is scamming a bunch of party people."

"Yes."

Gwen shook her head. "It's a lot of trouble to go through just to avoid a routine bust for weed and speed."

"That would depend. Most low-level dealers are expendable. Few are sufficiently well informed to implicate their suppliers. The police can arrest as many street dealers as they like, and no one sheds tears over the death of a Tiger Leone. But what of the people who use the drugs? For some, the penalties can be inconvenient."

"A sting, then? Extortion?" She turned the possibilities over in her mind. "Edmonson's people could sell the herbal drugs to rich college kids, professionals, politicians-anyone who'll pay to avoid a drug conviction. If they're picked up, arrange the switch with Walsh, resell the original drugs, pocket the cash.

A lot of people would pay good money for that kind of service. If they had enough chutzpah, they might even threaten the arresting officers with a lawsuit for false arrest. Edmonson would profit from that, too-he had his own law firm."

"All of this sounds plausible."

"Of course, you couldn't go to that well too often. If the ability to switch the drugs depends upon Walsh, the department couldn't screw up too often or he'd lose his job."

"Unless he was seen as a crusading, incorruptible police chief because he weeded out tainted members of the force."

"Like me," she said bitterly. "Son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Rage rose in her like black mist, dimming her vision. A moment pa.s.sed before she realized that the dwindling clouds had reformed into a dense blackness that blocked out the stars. In the back of her mind, a small traitorous voice suggested that Gwen was responsible for this, as well.She turned her back on Ian and drew a long, shuddering breath.

"We can do nothing more tonight," he said quietly. "Whatever the starlight holds for you is blocked by your anger."

Gwen whirled back toward him. "Then unblock it. Let's put all the cards on the table."

"Can you dance?"

For a long moment she stared at him. "Jesus Christ on stilts. You're serious."

"Of course."

"C'mon! Dancing in the starlight? How Tolkien is that?"

"Mind and body are closely related. Movement frees the flow of power. You can probably accept that humans can treat depression through exercise, that yoga and tai chi make their pract.i.tioners more centered and connected, that martial arts develop the ki. Given your background, you may believe that prayer is more powerful when focused by the movement of rosary beads through the fingers of a penitent. If these things are plausible, why is it so difficult to believe that dance, particularly in the company of others of our kind, strengthens our Qualities?"

"You make it sound almost reasonable," she grumbled.

"It is reasonable. Moreover, it works. Come." He extended a hand to her.

Gwen shook her head. "They didn't exactly have cotillions where I grew up. I can shake my stuff, but I don't think that's what you've got in mind. Is there another option?"