As he was about to leave, Britt said, "Your milk."

Rather than argue with her, he drank it down without pausing for breath.

A few minutes later he rode the elevator up to the ICU at the community hospital. The disinfectant fumes made him wish he had skipped the milk. In the lounge Hayes and Rizzo, the medical examiner he'd met at the stadium, waited for him."If this doesn't take the prize!" said Hayes after a perfunctory greeting. "n.o.body remembers any suspicious person wandering the halls last night, coming or going. The nurses on duty in intensive care didn't see anyone. In fact, they don't remember a thing from about five a.m. until their relief arrived at six!"

"Don't remember?" Roger echoed. He was beginning to guess how the murder had been accomplished.

"Total blank." The detective shook his head. "I take back every sane thing I ever told you about this case. I think the guy really is a phantom."

"Unless he disguised himself as an orderly or a maintenance worker," said Roger.More likely he used that psychic veil illusion.

But he couldn't suggest that to Hayes.

"That could explain how he got to the ward without being noticed. Not how come the nurses don't remember what happened."

"Are they still here?" said Roger. "Could I talk to them?"

"The senior nurse on duty is. I let the other one go home. All the patients were transferred to other rooms for the day, and anyhow none of them saw a thing." Hayes smoothed his moustache. "Say, you think he could've somehow drugged the nurses?"

"I didn't notice any signs of that," Rizzo put in, "but I wouldn't rule it out."

Roger asked the medical examiner about Alice's death. The reply added nothing substantial to what Hayes had said. "She seems to have been dead between thirty and forty-five minutes when the morning shift came in and found the duty nurses sitting at their station in a daze. With the carotid artery severed, your patient died instantly without regaining consciousness."

Since Rizzo seemed to expect it, Roger muttered an expression of relief that Alice hadn't suffered. Meanwhile, Hayes had left the lounge and was just returning with a middle-aged nurse in tow, her short-cropped auburn hair fading to gray, her eyes bloodshot behind square, gold-rimmed gla.s.ses. The detective introduced her as Mrs. Gifford.

"I'd like to talk with her alone, if I may," said Roger. When the two men had left the lounge, Roger invited Mrs. Gifford to relax on the divan and immediately lulled her into a trance. He viewed her instant submission as ominous in itself.

"Now tell me, calmly, knowing you are completely safe, who came into your ward this morning at five."

Her expressionless voice answered, "A tall man-big man- with deep red hair and a beard. He just-popped out of thin air. For some reason I'd been dozing off. Next thing I knew, I looked around at Kathy, and she was asleep with her head on the desk." A small frown creased the woman's brow.

Roger traced circles on her temples until she sank into tranquility again. "It's all right now. Nothing will disturb you. Tell me what you did then."

Her hands resting limp on her knees, Mrs. Gifford said, "I got up to walk over to Kathy, at the console, and wake her. Then this man-appeared-beside her chair. Something went wrong with my vision. The lights seemed to go dim all of a sudden. And I thought the man's eyes burned, like red-hot coals. He told me to sit down and relax. I felt warm and sort of-liquid-all over.

Something told me he shouldn't be there, but I couldn't get excited about that. He told me not to worry, to go to sleep and forget about him." She heaved a long sigh. "I guess I did fall asleep, because the next thing I remember, the day shift nurse was shaking me." Her breathing quickened. "That man-he got to one of the patients-"

Smoothing the tension from her neck and shoulders, Roger said, "You must not worry about that. You aren't to blame. Forget what you saw, and be at peace. I will now count to ten, and you will awaken refreshed. One, two...."

A few minutes later, he lied to Rizzo and Hayes with all the persuasion at his command. "I can't get her to remember anything. I suspect a quick-acting drug, rapidly eliminated from her system. Unless, of course, your suspect hypnotized both of them."

Rizzo greeted that suggestion, as Roger expected, with a nervous laugh. No one could hypnotize two people at the same time that thoroughly, not when the victims were alert and on guard.

No one human, that is,thought Roger. Until this incident, he hadn't acknowledged what a deadly adversary even a "young"

vampire could be.

Chapter 20

HE'S PLAYING with us,Roger told himself for the dozenth time since the disaster at the hospital. The "giant bat" sighting demonstrated that Sandor had lost none of his brashness, and the murder of Alice showed that the renegade hadn't restrained himself out of caution. He could strike at Roger and Britt whenever and however he chose. Roger wondered whether Britt had remained safe because of the cross she wore constantly, or whether Sandor simply wasn't ready to claim her yet.

Furthermore, over the past few days since Alice's death, they'd heard nothing of the Kovak family except through official police contacts. If Mr. Kovak or his son planned to sue Doctors Darvell and Loren for malpractice, they were in no hurry to initiate the process.

Shortly after nine o'clock Wednesday evening, Roger's reading of theBoston Globewas interrupted by a twinge of apprehension from Britt. He extended an inquiring telepathic tendril.

"Nothing" she replied. "The phone startled me."

Since she didn't insist that he break contact, Roger listened in on the conversation. To his dismay, the caller turned out to be Peter Kovak. "Dr. Loren, we got a little emergency here."

"Yes, what is it?" No sign of Britt's anxiety crept into her voice.

"It's my mother. She's in real bad shape, hysterical. Dad and I can't calm her down."

"I understood she had been prescribed tranquilizers?"

"Yeah, but she threw them away after-you know." The young man's voice quavered with emotion; Roger wished he could read its nature through this indirect link. "She never got around to refilling it. Look, Dr. Loren, seems to me you owe us. Can you come check on her?"

Of course Britt felt she "owed" Alice's family; Roger knew trying to convince her otherwise would be futile. "Yes, I'll be there as soon as possible."

After she'd hung up, Roger spoke to her: "Colleague, I'm not sure you should make that visit alone at night. And since when do you make house calls, except in a graver "emergency" than this?"

"Come off it, Roger. If you had received that call, you'd be out the door already. You feel more responsible for their troubles than I do."

"Because Iammore responsible. Besides, I'm better able to protect myself."

Anger flared in Britt's telepathic voice. "I functioned perfectly well for thirty-five years before I met you."

"Granted, better than I did before meeting you." But the p.r.i.c.kle of uneasiness along Roger's spine wouldn't go away. "At least let me come with you, for my own peace of mind."

"Are you kidding? The way two out of three of them feel about you?"

While Roger couldn't deny the soundness of Britt's argument, his internal alarms screamed at the thought of her visiting the Kovaks alone. Rationally considered, though, what harm could come to her? Mr. Kovak wouldn't have consented to Peter's calling Britt if they harbored resentment against her. Roger gave up his objections, contenting himself with observing Britt through their mental link.

WHEN BRITT'S car pulled up in front of the Kovaks' house, she saw nothing to justify Roger's qualms. The house stood quiet, with several lights shining in addition to the bare bulb on the porch. Britt walked up and rang the bell on the side occupied by the elder Kovaks.

Peter opened the door and stepped onto the porch. He wore a floppy gray sweatshirt that hung well below the waistband of his commercially faded jeans. "Glad you could make it, Doc." He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at the dark, wooded back yard.

Listening, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her hooded windbreaker to tame their illogical tremor (blast Roger!), Britt heard no footsteps in the back rooms, no crying. She sensed Roger's inner alarm jangling again. She pushed it to the back of her mind. He had to learn she could take care of herself, and d.a.m.ned if she'd let his overprotectiveness cloud her judgment.

Lightly grasping Britt's elbow, Peter guided her inside and locked and bolted the door with his free hand, then steered her toward the hall. "Thanks for coming. Mom's in their bedroom."

Britt's psychic antennae, fine-tuned by contact with Roger, vibrated at that remark. "Roger, something feels wrong. I think he's lying."

Linked with Roger, she felt his fingers flex as if the young man's neck were within their reach. "Then get away from him-now!"

Before Britt could jerk out of Peter's grip, he pulled a revolver from under his sweatshirt. "Sorry about that, Doc," he grinned. "I made a little mistake. Mom's in Florida. They're visiting her folks-therapy, like-and they won't be back until Sunday.He helped me talk them into taking a little vacation."

For an instant Britt's vision dimmed with the shock.I should have listened to my worrywart colleague. "He? Who?" No answer.

Recovering, she said coolly, "What are you trying to accomplish, Peter?"

"Get moving." He prodded her down the hall to the master bedroom. "I told you I blamed you and the other shrink for what Alice did. It's time to pay up."

When Britt stepped into the bedroom, she noted that it had been stripped down. The sheets had been removed from the double bed, the dressers cleared of all portable objects. A couple of dresser drawers had been taken out altogether. "Give me your purse," the young man ordered.

For a few seconds Britt considered flinging it in his face as a bid for escape. She sensed Roger's relief when she discarded that idea and simply handed over the heavy bag. "This wild escapade won't do you any good. Dr. Darvell knows where I am."

"Great, that'll save me the trouble of contacting him. I want him here." Peter backed out and closed the door, locking it with the click of a deadbolt.

Britt stepped over and gave the k.n.o.b a ritual tug. "Do they always live this way, or was it arranged just for me?"

"I suspect the deadbolt is new. He seems to have gone to elaborate lengths to get the room prepared" Roger answered.

"Right. There won't be much point in searching the drawers and closets for a weapon. He'd have cleared out anything useful." She could always attack Peter with a coat hanger, of course, if she were fool enough to try such a ploy against a loaded gun. She glanced at the barred window. "And what a lucky break for him that the security grills were already in place."

She plopped down on the bed, surrendering to the shakiness she'd suppressed in the attacker's presence. "I guess there's no use telling you to stay away." Buried under that facade of detached intellect, he hid an alter ego who'd be right at home in the annals of the Round Table. Danger to women seemed to have that effect on men of his generation.

Roger had already collected his car keys-not bothering with a jacket, since the temperature, in the fifties, would feel pleasantly cool to him-and started out the door. "Don't be silly," he told her.

"But, colleague, it's you he wants. I'm just the bait." She walked a bit unsteadily to the attached bathroom to splash cool water on her face. The medicine cabinet stood empty, its mirror door removed, and the toothbrush rack held a plastic gla.s.s. "Thorough, wasn't he?" Britt observed.

She fought to keep her head clear of the scarlet fog that threatened to engulf Roger. "If you think I'd consider leaving you to face that maniac alone-well, you insult me." To Britt's relief, he suppressed his anger, its pressure gradually receding.

"If you must come after me, at least take precautions," she urged. Should Roger and Britt not appear at the office in the morning, Marcia would call them at home. He ought to leave word for her.

Thinking over the suggestion, Roger agreed. He erased the message on his answering machine and recorded a new one: "Marcia, if you are hearing this, Dr. Loren and I are being held by Peter Kovak at his home. If we don't contact you by noon, notify the police." By that time police intervention could hardly make matters worse.

Britt followed his reasoning but doubted its validity. "Must you have her wait until noon?"

"I won't risk the law intervening too quickly and endangering you. Confound it, this is a hostage situation!"

"I noticed." She reined her own fear, striving for a detached stance that wouldn't feed Roger's panic.

She felt him chafing at the downtown congestion around Market Circle. After pa.s.sing through Eastport and reaching Forest Drive, he made better time. As he turned up Route Two toward the South River bridge, Britt addressed him again.

"You're actually coming here alone?"

"You couldn't expect me to bring reinforcements in these circ.u.mstances. Aside from the risk to you, how could I possibly explain this situation to the police?"

At that moment the scratch of a key at the door deflected her attention. Peter's head poked in, along with the muzzle of the gun.

"Comfortable, Doc? I hope your partner gets here soon so I don't have to call him. Waiting could make me nervous, you know."

He waggled the revolver. "You'll never guess what my sister told me about him. Unless maybe she told you the same thing. She said Darvell was a vampire. Can you believe that?"

Groping with her embryonic ESP, Britt couldn't tell, through the murk of his grief and hate, how seriously he meant the derisive comment. "No, I can't, and I don't believe you could, either."

"Yeah? Well, I'm about to find out.He told me how to check on it. Maybe your friend's a nut case who thinks he's a vampire. Or maybe he's something worse. Whatever, he's gonna pay."

Alarmed, she pa.s.sed on the information to Roger. "Peter's serious about punishing you for Alice's death. He more than half believes her vampire stories, and he plans to test the theory on you. Colleague, I don't want you to end up with a stake through the heart."

"I'll try to avoid that."

WHEN ROGER turned onto the winding, spa.r.s.ely developed road, he went cold with the fresh realization of how isolated the duplex was. Too far from the neighboring houses to be visible, it was also sheltered by the woods that surrounded it on three sides, with the riverbank beyond. He drove further on, parked just around the curve, and walked back. Britt's car, he noticed, no longer sat in front of the house. Peter had thought to hide the evidence.

Before approaching the house, Roger cast a psychic veil over himself. Thus rendered invisible, he glided soundlessly through the neatly trimmed front yard and around to the back. Trees pressed close, leaving only about twenty feet of gra.s.s on each side. The dismantled vehicles still occupied the s.p.a.ce in front of the detached garage. He noted a sports car in one of the two driveways.

Roger surmised from his previous visit that the master bedroom and bath had to be at the rear of the building. In confirmation, Britt pulled aside a curtain to stare out into the darkness. Though she couldn't see Roger, she doubtless felt his nearness despite the concentration that kept him from calling to her.

Scanning the windows of the room next to her prison, he noted that the drapes had been removed. Strangely, both the bedroom window and the smaller, frosted one that must belong to the bathroom were festooned on the inside with strings of white, bulbous objects.

Fresh garlic, he decided.Good grief, the man really does believe in vampires.

What was the point, though? Garlic intended to keep Roger out would decorate the whole building, not just two rooms.

Where was Peter? Roger heard no one moving inside except Britt. To search for the kidnapper by extrasensory means, he would have to drop the illusion of invisibility; he hadn't learned to do both at once. Allowing the psychic shield to dissolve, he probed for any life-energy other than Britt's. The back of his neck p.r.i.c.kled.

It took him only seconds to sense the man lurking in the trees behind him. As Roger turned, Peter said, "Wasn't expecting you so soon. Don't try anything-vampire." He aimed a flashlight and a .38 at Roger.

Maybe I should reconsider my opposition to gun control.Roger held up his hands and surveyed Peter, who wore a silver cross around his neck, gleaming against the sweatshirt. "Don't tell me you've adopted your sister's delusion," said Roger in a conversational tone that he hoped sounded confident. "No sane person believes such things."

"Don't give me that. I just saw you appear out of thin air." He glanced at the woods behind the garage, then back at Roger.

"It's a little dark to be sure what you saw," said Roger.

"Well, I can see that arm from here-not a mark on it, where you were bleeding from a bullet wound last week. Maybe I wasn't sure before, but now I think Alice might've known what she was talking about.He explained it all to me." At the mention of his sister, hate flared in his aura. "You're here to pay for what you did to her."

"What do you think I did?"

"We'll talk about how you screwed her over later." Peter gestured with the gun. "Go on-in the house."

Roger contemplated his chances of safely rushing the man. Not good-in Peter's strung-out condition, any threat would goad him into shooting. The thought of taking another bullet filled Roger with an aching weariness. He obeyed the order, saying as he walked ahead of his captor, "What about Dr. Loren? Now that you have me, you don't need her."

"Don't be funny."