"When will she be transferred from the ICU?"

"Tomorrow, probably," said the resident.

"Very good, I'll call to check on her in the afternoon."

"One thing puzzles me," said Dr. Harlow, his frown lines deepening. "Her hematocrit's low, which pneumonia doesn't account for.

No symptoms of internal hemorrhage, either. I've ordered a few tests." He detailed them, while Roger nodded agreement, keeping his expression neutral. Once replenished by a transfusion, Alice's blood wouldn't show any signs to provoke further investigation- he hoped.

Finally Dr. Harlow ushered him into Alice's room. Hooked up to the respirator, she could greet Roger only with her eyes. The odor of sickness and disinfectant made his stomach turn over.The smell of death. For the first time it struck Roger that although eventually he might be killed, he would never experience this creeping decay. He forced himself to walk to the bed and take the girl's hand. She clenched his, her nails digging into his flesh.

"Easy," he said, stroking her forehead. "I a.s.sure you that you'll be all right. You're frightened and uncomfortable now, but that will pa.s.s." He stared into her eyes, compelling belief. The grip on his hand relaxed. "Surrender your will to mine. Let me take your pain away." That was the least he could do. He continued to murmur incoherent rea.s.surances while smoothing her damp hair. He felt her breathing ease; the bedside monitor showed a slowing of her heartbeat and a drop in blood pressure. Five minutes later she drifted into sleep.

In the lounge he pa.s.sed on to the Kovaks Dr. Harlow's a.s.surance that Alice would move to a regular ward the next day. No doubt they'd already been told, but Roger knew in these circ.u.mstances people tended to hear only half of what was said and distort the rest. The sadness and fear they projected felt like a block of stone lying on his chest. He repeated, "Alice will be perfectly all right,"

several times, with variations, exerting hypnotic pressure on each of the three in turn. Mrs. Kovak greedily devoured the rea.s.surance, while the two men lost little of their wariness.

Just before leaving, Roger said, "When Alice has recovered, I don't think it would be wise for me to continue as her therapist. She's developing an unhealthy dependence on me. I suggest we discuss transferring her to Dr. Loren." He wasn't surprised to see Mr.

Kovak nod agreement.

Roger retreated before Dr. Harlow could pop up and trap him in another medical consultation. Outside, he inhaled a deep breath of the relatively clean air, considering what he'd recommended to the Kovaks. That course of action couldn't be avoided, which meant he would have to tell Britt the whole story.

As if I'd conceal it from her anyway!He would have to call her immediately. No, not tonight; by now it was after nine in California. Tomorrow evening. He felt guilty relief at postponing the confrontation.

After one the following day, he called the hospital to check on Alice. As predicted, she had recovered enough to move out of the ICU. Roger said a silent prayer of thanks. At least he'd have a modic.u.m of good news to pa.s.s on to Britt.

He flipped through his address book to her sister's number. After he'd stared at it long enough to memorize it several times over, even without his eidetic memory, he admitted to himself that he didn't want to confess his transgression over the phone. The complicated, painful situation didn't allow that kind of handling. He had to tell her face to face.

Sunday night. I'll tell her then.

On the other hand, suppose she phoned him earlier? How could he carry on a normal conversation while keeping that secret?

Could he wait for her return home?

That night, after hours of postponement with every sc.r.a.p of busy-work he could devise, he still vacillated between the two equally threatening alternatives. In the dim cave of his study, he glared at the phone as if it were a vicious beast ready to pounce. He picked up and replaced the receiver twice before admitting he hadn't the nerve to make the call.

He needed advice, and he'd rather grope through the fog forever than appeal to Volnar. Instead he dialed his brother Claude's Los Angeles number.

In a heavily British accent, Claude said, "It's delightful to hear from you, little brother. d.a.m.n shame about Sylvia, though."

"Did you know her?"

"Not really. Ran into her a couple of times." Over the line, Roger heard cloth rustling and the phone being moved, as if Claude were settling for a long conversation. "I knew that blighter Sandor was a blot on the landscape, but I never thought he'd go that far."

"Were you acquainted with Sandor?"

"Only by reputation. Crossed paths with his twin, Camille, a couple of years ago. She hung about with those white-faced young people who dress in black and write poetry that doesn't scan-said they made for good hunting-but she seemed sane on all other subjects." In a more sober tone, he added, "Except for defending her sc.u.m of a brother, but that's to be expected. Sibling loyalty."

A sudden onslaught of anger squeezed Roger's throat. "If sibling loyalty is so d.a.m.ned important, what about all those years when I-"

"Don't bare your fangs at me, little brother. I had no choice. Among our kind, age really does mean wisdom and power. n.o.body in his senses would defy one of the eldest."

"Meaning Sandor is out of his senses." Roger forced his breathing and blood pressure under control. He hadn't phoned to pick a fight with Claude."h.e.l.l, that goes without saying."

"Volnar has pa.s.sed a death sentence on him and expects me to carry it out."

"He would, wouldn't he?" said Claude with a humorless laugh. "I daresay it's meant partly as a sort of test. Are you man enough- or vampire enough-to defend your own territory? That's how he would see it. But surely you didn't call to discuss Neil Sandor?"

"Not directly. I've had a h.e.l.l of a week, and I need to talk about it, if I'm not interrupting anything."

"An hour ago, you would have been." Claude purred like a cat replete with cream. Roger fantasized about decking him. "But now I'm at your disposal. By the way, how is your lady? Dare I hope she is yours by now?"

"In a manner of speaking," Roger said.

"So you did score. Well done,mon frere !"

Roger struggled to leash his temper. "I don't think of Britt in those terms."

"Oh, like that, is it? Then why would you waste time ringing me up on a Friday night? Why aren't you enjoying her company at this moment?"

"She isn't here; she's visiting her sister in Long Beach," Roger said. He flexed the fingers of his left hand, which had been clutching the edge of the desk. "That's what I need advice on."

"And you don't want to discuss her with Fearless Leader. Can't blame you," Claude said. "Fire away. You sound d.a.m.n near worn out. Been starving yourself while she's out of reach?"

"If I wanted to hear that, Iwould go to Volnar," Roger said, rubbing his forehead. "Britt has been away from home since Sat.u.r.day morning."

"And you didn't want anyone else. I understand that. I've had that experience myself, a long time ago. Dom Perignon,n'est-ce pas ?"

"Yes." Roger's throat went dry at the thought.

"Have you bonded with her? They say that's even better-Chateau Lafitte Rothschild, as it were. I admit I've never gone that far with an ephemeral myself."

"No," said Roger. "The idea frightens me." He moved to the office couch, resting the phone on his lap.

"How long have you been intimate with your Dr. Loren?"

"A little over a month."

"She knows exactly what you are, doesn't she? From the way you described her, she wouldn't tolerate unanswered questions."

"That's right."

"And you're still holding back?"

"I don't even know that she'd want the two-way bond. We've never discussed it." Roger plumped a cushion against the sofa arm and lay back on it.

"She's interested in psychic research, isn't she? Have you tried teaching her some of your skills?"

Roger thought of how the process both intrigued and frustrated Britt. "All she's been able to pick up is the biofeedback-controlling her autonomic functions to some extent. And she seems to be developing an empathic talent. She reads my emotions too accurately for chance."

"Of course," Claude said. "Prolonged contact with a vampire has that effect. But you can't teach her most of those skills without the bond. She'd love it."

Memory of his mutual blood-sharing with Volnar sc.r.a.ped on Roger's nerves. Could he face that again, even with Britt? "You don't know her. I'm not sure, myself, how she would react."

"Still, it sounds as if you're getting along swimmingly. So why are you so miserable?"

Roger told him everything that had happened from the moment Alice's mother had called on Wednesday. The rehearsal made the prospect of repeating the story to Britt slightly less formidable.

"So she didn't die?" Claude said in an offensively offhand manner.

"No, the antibiotics seemed to have the pneumonia under control."

"Then you aren't a killer. Your conscience ought to be clear."

The image of Alice in the ICU made Roger queasy all over again. "You don't understand."

"No, old thing, frankly, I don't. I haven't got a conscience, just a set of pragmatic ethics. After all, what else are ephemeralsfor?"

After a pause he continued, "Is it because the girl's your patient? You've used patients before, haven't you?"

"Not since Britt and I-" Depression settled like a damp cloud on Roger when he thought of Britt's probable reaction to his behavior. She would rightly insist that the nights of torment he'd suffered in her absence were no excuse.

"Let's see if I have this straight," Claude said. "A twenty-year-old girl threw herself at you, and being half-starved, you didn't resist very hard."

"Not starved. I'd gone without for only four and a half nights."

"Sounds like h.e.l.l to me," said Claude, "but then you have that half-human streak, old chap."

"I should have exercised better self-control." Roger recalled his shock when he'd pulled back from Alice's limp body and realized how much he had overindulged. With the metallic tang of her blood lingering in his mouth, he'd still felt empty. "The worst of it is, I knew she wasn't well. But since it wasn't serious enough to spoil the-the flavor, I ignored the signs."

"Unwise of you, but understandable in the circ.u.mstances. Now she's recovering, so all's well-except that you're agonizing about what your Dr. Loren will say when she finds out. You're afraid to confront her?"

"That's essentially correct." Roger wished Claude wouldn't use such a flippant tone.

"You're a fool as well as a coward, old thing."

Roger felt too near exhaustion to bother resenting this remark. "Because I have scruples about violating a patient?"

"That's beside the point," Claude said. "Because, given your Dr. Loren's att.i.tude on the subject, you risked losing the kind of relationship few of us find even once in a century."

"Spare me the lecture; I've delivered it to myself a hundred times." He rubbed his eyes, stinging from the fatigue of five days without proper sleep. "And stop calling her my' Dr. Loren. After this weekend, she may not be."

"Was the girl worth it?" said Claude. "You know the answer to that. It wasn't much better than animal blood. Worse, in fact, since it made me sick."

"You do have a severe case," Claude said, his voice radiating genuine empathy. "You're thoroughly fixated on your friend. And you care about her, don't you? Enough to want her around even when you aren't thirsty?"

"Of course." What kind of selfish hedonist did Claude take him for? Or was that mind-set the vampire norm?

"Not that I'm any expert," said Claude, "but this sounds an awful lot like that thing ephemerals call love."

"I haven't even begun to think of that." A dull ache was building in his forehead.

"In all seriousness, I think you should consider bonding with her. It would minimize or eliminate any chance of future misunderstandings. And they say the depth of the union is-indescribable."

Roger shifted uneasily on the couch. "The question is academic, since she probably won't care to speak to me again."

"You know, you could simply not tell her what happened."

Roger retorted in a blaze of indignation, "Lie to her? Don't be obscene!"

"Calm down,mon frere. I'm convinced of your commitment. Isn't it about time you tried convincing her?"

Roger sat up, his hand spasmodically tightening on the receiver. "I can't explain all this to Britt over the telephone."

"Then you must do it the moment you see her. However, I'd give her some advance warning that all isn't well; don't spring it on her out of the blue." He chuckled. "h.e.l.l, any magazine advice columnist could have told you that."

Roger's head ached. He felt as if he were being backed into a corner. "Perhaps you're right."

"Of course I am," said Claude. "Given the condition you're in-"

"Good Lord, is it that obvious?" Glancing down to check his free hand for any sign of a tremor, Roger caught himself clenching it into a fist in his lap. He uncurled his fingers.

"To another vampire, blatantly so, even over a long-distance line. I don't think you've got much to worry about; your friend won't care about anything other than relieving your obvious distress."

Roger's throat went dry at the image of Britt's tall, slender body in his arms, her green eyes gazing into his, offering herself. "I can't count on that."

"Considering the alternative, what have you got to lose?Au revoir, mon frere."

After breaking the connection, Roger stared at the telephone for at least five minutes before lifting the receiver again. He dialed Britt's sister's number in Long Beach.

After he'd endured the embarra.s.sment of asking a pre-teenage boy to call Dr. Loren to the phone, Britt came on the line and said, "Colleague, it's wonderful to hear your voice! I wasn't expecting a call so soon before I'm due home." The delight in her greeting momentarily silenced him. "Why do I get the idea that you're feeling underloved and underfed?"

The teasing tone brought her image vividly to mind-her sparkling green eyes, her fair redhead's skin, her magnificent t.i.tian hair.

"That's true, but it isn't why I called."

"I'm glad you did. I miss you."

"That's entirely mutual." How could he possibly work up the nerve to tell her what he needed to? "Have you been getting any rest?" she said.

"I've tried."

"Meaning you haven't slept well since I left." The concern in her voice brought a lump to his throat. "Dreams?"

"Too many." He'd explained to her how little REM time he required, so she understood the significance of excessive dreaming.

"The kind that make me miss you even worse."