Gabriel smelled blood, and saw a pile of white and red left by the base of the well stones. He reached down and picked up a handful of torn, damp T-shirt fabric. He pressed his face against it to be sure, but he knew from his dream the blood on it was Nicola's.

A dream that had not been a dream at all.

He found her leather jacket left draped on the edge of the well by the bucket pulley. He ran his hands over it, feeling again the bulges in the lining. Yesterday he had not disturbed them, but now he found the folded seams that opened them and slowly went through the contents of each.

Nicola carried several rolls of euros, rail pa.s.ses or tickets of some sort, and a folded book of traveler's checks, but no coins or wallet. One small, hard plastic case contained a dozen slim, bent metal instruments Gabriel guessed were lock picks. He also found a canister of spray lubricant, a pair of folding binoculars, and a long, flat piece of metal that he had seen on television as something car thieves employed. From the last pocket he pulled a bundle of identification cards, pa.s.sports, and work visas.

Nowhere did Gabriel find the film, lenses, or any other camera accessories he had expected.

It was not photography or random accident that had brought her to the chateau. Nicola carried too many specific tools for him to believe that anymore. It seemed that she was the human thief that his interrogators in Paris had spoken of-the thief whom the Brethren had been trying to trap by using him as bait.

Why did she deceive me?

Gabriel carefully returned the items he had examined precisely where he had found them, and put the jacket and the bloodied fabric back where Nicola had left them. He turned and silently followed his own path to the spider-silk tent.

What else has she stolen?

Now that he knew this about her, some things made more sense. Why she dyed her hair: to alter her appearance; she likely did it regularly. Why she traveled by motorcycle: to have the means to get away quickly; a motorcycle could weave in and out of traffic and go places off-road where cars could not.

But what did she steal? Did she take relics and antiques from these churches and chapels she had claimed to be photographing?

Why had she kept this from him?

I would not tell a stranger that I was a thief, he admitted to himself. But after yesterday and last night, are we still strangers?

The enormity of his discovery would have bothered him more if she had been lying to him for a long period of time, but in truth they had known each other for only three days. Enough time to become lovers, but not to establish trust. Perhaps she was ashamed of what she did, and sought to conceal it from him for that reason.

Or she is up at the house this minute, taking the money and the diamonds that Dalente left hidden for me.Gabriel found that he didn't care if she did take them for herself. Nicola had saved his life, but more important, she had salvaged his soul. She could have anything she wished for that.

In her own way, she had tried to warn him. You deal with the murderers, thieves, and liars... The world's full of them...

You have to think the way they do... For all you know, I could be one of them.

Something touched his neck. "If I were a holy freak, you'd be a dead vampire."

"Fortunately for me you are not." He caught Nicola's hand and brought it to his lips. "I missed you."

"Well, I had to do some recon and get some supplies." She placed a cold, thick plastic bag in his hands. "Some breakfast."

"Blood?" He could see that it was from the dark red smear of color, but decided to keep silent about his returning vision. If she could keep secrets, then so could he-at least until he had some better idea of what she stole, and why.

"Blood and more blood," she said, placing a small, box-shaped object next to him. "This is a cooler with six more units. It's fresh from the blood bank at the city hospital."

"How did you get it?" Had she stolen this as well? "A hospital would not sell bagged blood to you."

"I sort of borrowed it," she said. "It's okay; it's type O, and I made sure they had plenty in stock. They won't miss it."

Was that how she thought of what she did? As borrowing? How did so generous and kind a woman become a thief? None of it made sense to Gabriel.

"I picked up some extra bungee cords so I can strap the cooler to the bike." She sorted through a bag. "Got jeans, T-shirts, and some decent shoes. You're about a size nine, right?" She moved closer. "Aren't you hungry?"

"I am." Hungry, and puzzled, and not sure of what to do. "Where did you get the clothes?"

"From a men's sportswear shop in town; where else? I picked out some long-sleeved tracksuits. They'll cover everything, but they're cotton, so you won't sweat to death." She brought his hand to a shirt. "See? Nice and soft. I got them in solid colors: dark green, blue, and black." Her voice went uncertain. "I didn't know what to do about underwear."

The Brethren had denied him the dignity of clothing. That she would care about such a small detail touched him deeply. "It doesn't matter. I am not accustomed to wearing it anymore."

"Well, I got three pairs of cotton boxers in case, you know, you decide you want to. I couldn't picture you in briefs." She tapped the bag in his lap. "Go on; drink up. We have to catch a train."

"A train."

"First cla.s.s sleeper compartment," she added. "I picked up some rail pa.s.ses. They run the Occitan to the coast now."

She couldn't have stolen train tickets-could she? "I thought we would take your motorcycle."

"Well, I'm not leaving it behind." The blur of her face appeared in front of him, and he had to remember to keep his gaze fixed. "I remove the front wheel and crate it at the station as cargo. The train's good for staying out of sight while we travel during the day, and I think we need to get out of France."

That much he agreed with. "Where are we going?"

"The train takes us all the way to Calais," she said. "I'll put the bike back together there, and then it's twenty minutes through the Eurotunnel to Dover. From Dover, it's a couple of hours to my place."

She had done this before, obviously. "You are taking me home with you?"

"Unless you'd rather go somewhere else, yeah." She bent forward and kissed him. "That okay?"

"Very much so." Gabriel set aside the bag of blood and pulled her into his arms. "There is someone I should see in London first, to find out what has happened since my imprisonment. Will you take me to him before we go to your home?"

"Sure." She linked her hands around his neck. "Is everything okay? You seem kind of out of it this morning." Her voice softened.

"I guess you've had nothing but one rude shock after another."

"I will, as you say, handle it." Gabriel held her close. He would be lost without her now. "Only stay with me, Nicola."

Chapter 15.

The door to the lab opened and closed again. A certain tall, blond Kyn cleared his throat.

Alex didn't stop working, and sent a wish to the medical research fairy to open a bottomless pit inside the lab door.

"The high lord wishes to know what progress you have made," Korvel said from behind Alex.

If the captain of Richard's guards interrupted her one more time, Alex decided, she was going to beat him to death with her coagulyzer. A girl just couldn't rely on the medical research fairy anymore.

"I'm four more blood tests and one partial extrapolated blood absorption simulation ahead of where I was yesterday," she told him. "Half of one comparative screen farther than I was an hour ago. No farther along than ten minutes ago." She paused and stared at her watch. "Why, look, I'm still not any farther along."

"I meant, have you any reports prepared?"

"Not a one. I hate reports, and I really hate typing. How's my brother?"

"I have posted new guards, and instructed them to alert me if Lady Elizabeth sends for John," Korvel said. "Your brother tells me that his migraine has improved, but he would like aspirin."

"Aspirin promotes bleeding, and his neck injury hasn't healed yet. He stays on the Tylenol. Just don't let him drink any wine." She didn't look up from the scope. "What else?"

"The high lord wishes a progress report," he reminded her.

Of course he did. "Tell the royal pain in my a.s.s that I'm not going to get anything done if he keeps sending you in here every five minutes."

"I have not bothered you every five minutes."

She sighed and jotted down her counts. "You want me to start clocking you, Captain?" She swiveled her chair around and saw his expression. "Look, this is a process. Processes take time. Testing can't be rushed, because it screws up the tests. And I'm working on stuff I haven't done since I was an intern and read about it in the textbooks. When I have something more definite than the number of weird blood cells currently running around in Richard's veins, you'll be the first to know."

"His condition grows worse." His voice rasped on the words.

"It's not going to get better on its own." Alex felt as tired as Korvel sounded, and focused on his pale, drawn features. "You look like you could use a transfusion or three. Has Elizabeth been tapping you?"

"No." That surprised him. "The lady only uses humans. I am well."

"My a.s.s." She went over and checked his pulse. His skin felt cold and stiff to the touch, a sure sign of Kyn dehydration. His fresh-baked-pound-cake scent had also grown noticeably weaker. "Just out of curiosity, how long has it been since you've fed?"

"I do not know. Some days now." He frowned as if he couldn't remember. "My duties have occupied me."

Alex noticed a slash mark on his neck, a recent injury that had healed on the surface but that she'd bet good money was still knitting beneath the dermis.

"I can't give you a Tylenol for this, Korvel. If you don't feed, you don't heal. Wine by itself doesn't count. The pathogen needs a blood chaser, and it will take it out on you if you don't give it..." She stepped back. "Holy s.h.i.t."

Korvel's eyebrows rose. "I cannot eat s.h.i.t, Doctor, Blessed or otherwise."

"No, that's not what I mean. It's something Lucan said to me in Florida. You are what you eat. You are... Tylenol... and the wine mixed in... holy s.h.i.t." She went to the computer and pulled up the profile on Richard's blood count. She heard Korvel retreating. "Hold it, Captain. I need a sample of your blood. Grab a stool and roll up your right sleeve."

Alex grabbed a copper-tipped syringe from the supply cabinet and brought it over to Richard's seneschal, who had bared his arm. She tied a strip of rubber above his elbow and tightened it.

"How will my blood aid you? I am not a changeling."

"You're normal, for Kyn, and you're as old as Richard, and you've hung with him for seven centuries, and he infected you. This is going to sting." She plunged the needle into one of the raised veins under his skin and drew a sample. As soon as she withdrew the needle, the hole stopped bleeding but did not immediately close. "You really haven't fed in a while."

He averted his gaze. "I have had no desire to feed."

That definitely wasn't normal. And why was the captain suddenly acting like a shy kid? "Anyway, depressed as it presently is, the pathogen in your blood should be identical to the one Richard had before he contaminated his."

"Contaminated?"

"You are what you eat, Korvel. Richard hasn't been eating humans." She transferred a few drops of Korvel's blood onto a test strip and fed it into the a.n.a.lyzer, running a second profile. "Hold on to your helm, big guy. Last time I did this, I found out a human with diabetes was actually a repressed vampire."

The efficient equipment conducted the tests and created a blood profile for Korvel, which Alex transferred to the computer and put up next to Richard's aberrant profile.

"Same cell counts, different DNA. Now watch; this is cool." She ran the absorption simulation she had been working on with Richard's blood. "Richard's DNA mutated, creating an extra, distinct set of chromosomes that should have dusted him the minute it happened, but didn't. Since our chromosomes determine what we look like, I blamed the extra set for his physical changes and altered physiology. Thing I couldn't figure out was why the DNA mutated. As far as I can tell, Richard wasn't exposed to any toxin, radioactive material, or other substance responsible for the mutation."The captain peered at the computer screen. "What has that to do with my blood?"

"Human blood cells die almost immediately after they're removed from the body. Kyn's remain alive and active for three weeks.

Now watch this." She ran the simulation of introducing human red blood cells into Richard's blood sample. "See how the pathogenic cells try to absorb these red blood cells, and then spit them out? It's almost the same type of toxic reaction that happens in the human liver when someone ingests wine with Tylenol. Richard can't digest whole human blood anymore."

"We know this, lady," Korvel said gently.

"Wait, there's more." She changed the simulation parameters. "I'm going to feed a little rodent blood into your sample. Watch what happens."

The same violent reaction occurred as Korvel's pathogen rejected the animal blood cells.

"I cannot feed on rats any more than I can eat s.h.i.t," the captain said. "I also know this."

"But wait; there's more." Alex mentally crossed her fingers as she mixed equal portions of rat and human blood cells, and fed them first to Korvel's blood sample, and then to Richard's. A few of the cells in each sample were rejected, but the majority were absorbed. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. This is a fifty-fifty mix; half human blood, half rat. See? It's not discriminating as much this time."

He shrugged. "All Kyn can tolerate small amounts of animal blood."

"Yes, but this test proves that you could handle more if you drank it mixed in with human blood," she told him, running the simulation a second time. "The same way you can drink wine as long as it's mixed with human blood. Korvel, the pathogen needs blood. It lives on it. It's willing to tolerate-even absorb-foreign cells and substances as long as it gets its fix. If it doesn't, it's forced to adapt. Ergo, extra set of chromosomes and unpleasant physical mutation."

Korvel seemed dazed now. "I do not understand."

"I thought it was about physical changes. I'm an idiot. This all starts at the cellular level." She tried to think of how to put it in layman's terms. "Richard was forced to live on animal blood for years. To survive, the pathogen created a new set of DNA to process the foreign cells and attract the new blood supply. It changed Richard so that he would attract it. Like any evolving organism, it's simply been adapting itself according to its environment. If it adapts once, it'll definitely adapt again."

Korvel looked stunned. "You mean, this can be reversed?"

Alex remembered Elizabeth's threat. She'd have to cure Richard on the condition that he have John returned to the States first.

Then Elizabeth couldn't do anything to him.

"We deny the new DNA what it wants, absolutely." Alex realized that a cure was also her ticket out of Dundellan, and felt like kissing the computer, the captain, and every rat in the castle. "It shouldn't take that long, either-Richard still has Kyn DNA lying dormant in his cells."

"Do I indeed."

Alex stopped feeling so great and stooped to pick up the plump tabby that had strolled in with Richard. "Hey, kitty," she said, stroking the affectionate feline. "Look what you dragged in here."

"Korvel, leave us."

"Yes, my lord." The captain walked to the door, turned back, gave Alex what she could cla.s.sify only as a dire warning look, and left."My wife tells me that you called on her in her apartments," Richard said as he went to the lab door and locked it. "I do not recall giving you permission to do so."

"I don't recall asking permission." Alex shut down the simulation. She could tell Richard that his wife had threatened to kill John if Alex made any progress, but she doubted he would believe her. Elizabeth was his wife, the home team; Alex was the unwilling, uncooperative captive. "What can I do for you?"

"According to my captain, I killed the last of the humans we keep as blood suppliers. I cannot recall doing so, but I have lost most of the last two days." He removed his mask, revealing his distorted face and the thick layer of hair and long, bunched whiskers that had grown in.

With the hair in place, Alex finally understood what Richard had been feeding on. She looked down at the tabby, and ran her thumb through the fur around its neck, feeling a number of puncture wounds. "It's the cats. You're feeding on the cats."