Even if his hands did itch to be around the man's scrawny neck.

Lucien gave a rueful shake of his head. Now was not the time for such thoughts. Not when he was tracking a desperate vampire. If he did not begin concentrating upon his task at hand, he might discover himself blundering into a very nasty surprise.

Sinking even deeper into the shadows, he soundlessly approached the door, coming to an abrupt halt when it swung open without warning and a tiny form stepped into the street to regard him with large eyes.

With his vision he could clearly make out the features of the small child that had so trustingly sought him out the first night he had visited the warehouse. A frown marred his brow as he moved to crouch beside her.

"What are you doing out here, my dear?" he murmured softly enough that he would not startle her.

Astonishingly she reached out to place her small hand against his cheek.

"I knew you were coming."

Lucien regarded her in bemus.e.m.e.nt. There had always been those special humans able to sense the presence of vampires. Perhaps this child had been born with the gift. If so, it could prove to be a genuine blessing.

"Did you? What a clever minx you are." He carefully watched the tiny countenance. "Has anyone else been near?"

She gave a firm shake of her head. "No, the bad man went away."

"The vicar?"

"Yes."

He let out a slow breath. She did indeed have the gift.

"I want you to listen carefully to me. If the bad man returns, I want you to slip out of the warehouse and hide. Can you do that?" Lucien waited until she gave a nod of agreement. "Good girl. And I want you to warn the other children. The bad man is very dangerous."

The eyes that appeared far too old and wise for such a young child regarded him steadily.

"Will you come back?"

"Yes, I will be back," he promised with a smile.

"I am glad. You are a nice man." Lucien could not prevent a small chuckle. "And you are a minx." He leaned down to brush a kiss over the tip of her nose. "Now go back inside."

"Good night."

"Good night, my dear."

Lucien waited until the girl had scurried back inside the warehouse before he rose to his feet.

He could only hope the child recalled his warning if Amadeus did return. Although the traitor had no reason to harm the poor children, there was no use in taking any chances.

Once a.s.sured she was safely inside, Lucien continued past the warehouse and toward the narrow, broken streets beyond. It was destined to be a long night, he acknowledged ruefully.

Although he suspected that Amadeus must have his lair somewhere in the labyrinth of dest.i.tute buildings, there was only one means of locating him. He would have to explore the entire rookery block by miserable block. Not a pleasant prospect considering the foul odors and filth that was already ruining his glossy boots.

Eventually he would draw close enough to sense the presence of the vampire, he thought in an attempt to ease his smoldering impatience.

And then...

Well, he had to admit he was not entirely certain what he would do beyond attempting to frighten some sense into the traitor.

He would simply have to face that difficulty when it arrived. First he had to find Amadeus.

Seven.

Jocelyn was floating in that peculiar world between wake and sleep when the shadowy form appeared beside her bed. Oddly she felt no fear as she sat upright to regard the apparition. Not even when a soft glow of illumination suddenly flared about the intruder.

Instead, her eyes widened in bemused wonder.

"Molly," she whispered softly, easily recognizing the freckled countenance and reddish curls.

"Thank goodness I have found you, Miss Kingly," the young maiden said, her expression filled with fear.

A cautious voice in the back of Jocelyn's mind warned her that something was wrong. It whispered that there was something that she should remember about Molly.

But cloudy confusion seemed to fill her thoughts, and it was impossible to think clearly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked instead.

The girl pressed her hands to her bosom as she leaned over the bed. "I need you."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Terrible trouble. I am so afraid. Will you help me?"

"Of course." Jocelyn frowned, shaking her head as she attempted to clear the fog of sleep from her mind. "What can I do?"

"Come with me."

"Come? Come where?" Jocelyn watched the apparition float toward the door, that voice of warning still sounding deep within her. "Molly?"

The woman stood at the door, waving an impatient hand toward the reluctant Jocelyn.

"Come."

With sluggish reluctance Jocelyn forced herself to climb out of the bed. This was all wrong.

Why would Molly be in her home at this time of night? And yet, she could not fail Molly. The maiden had come to her for help, and it was her duty to do whatever she could to provide a.s.sistance.

"Where are we going?" she demanded as she hurried across the uneven floorboards. Molly did not answer as she slipped into the dark hall and headed for the stairs. "Molly, wait."

The maiden did not halt as she continued over the landing and down the steps. Jocelyn moved to follow the shimmering form, but without warning a hand reached out to grasp her arm in a firm grip.

"No, Jocelyn, you must stop."

Decidedly confused, Jocelyn turned her head to discover an old gypsy woman standing at her side. She gave a vague blink, not certain how her home came to be cluttered with so many unexpected guests.

"Please, I must go," she said in thick tones, realizing that Molly had disappeared from sight.

"Molly needs me."

The thin, wrinkled face hardened at her words. "No, it is not Molly."

"Of course it is. I just saw her."

"No, do you not remember? Molly is dead."

A sharp pang abruptly stabbed Jocelyn's heart even through the cloud of confusion.

"Dead? But she was here."

"No, that was not Molly."

"But..."

"Jocelyn, there is someone trying to deceive you. You must not follow. Molly is dead."

With a wrenching effort Jocelyn forced herself to battle through the fog. "Yes," she murmured with a furrowed brow, recalling the odd vicar who had told her of Molly's death and then the arrival of Mr. Ryan. "I do not understand."

"Let us go back to bed."

Barely aware she was moving, Jocelyn allowed the strange gypsy to lead her back into her chamber and toward the bed. She regarded her companion with a puzzled expression.

"You are the gypsy who gave me the necklace."

A sudden smile touched the weathered countenance. "Yes, my dear. Do you remember my warning of the necklace?"

Jocelyn reached up to touch the amulet about her neck, rather startled to discover that it was warm beneath her fingers.

"You said that I am never to take it off or to give it to another."

Gently helping Jocelyn climb into bed, the gypsy covered her with the thin blanket.

"That is right, dearest. Never take it off for any reason. Not even if you believe it might help to protect someone you care about."

Jocelyn snuggled into the feather mattress, already slipping back into sleep.

"Why?"

In answer the woman reached out her gnarled hand and brushed it over Jocelyn's forehead.

"Sleep, my dear. Sleep in peace."

On cue the darkness rose up and Jocelyn was tumbling into a deep, dreamless sleep. She was unaware of the danger that lurked just out of sight, or of the powerful vampire who guarded her slumber.

For the first time in years she was at peace.

Brooding frustration smoldered within Lucien as he made his way back to Jocelyn's small home. Despite his meticulous search, he had been unable to discover any hint of Amadeus.

There was no scent of the vampire among the endless clutter of buildings or the numerous prost.i.tutes who plied their wares upon every corner. Not even his henchmen had been upon the streets.

At last he had been forced to concede defeat.

He was not destined to discover Amadeus on this night, he had concluded in disgust.

Or so he had believed.

As he neared Jocelyn's cramped neighborhood, he felt a familiar tingle brush over his skin.

Pausing, he allowed himself to consider the sudden sensation. It was the undeniable presence of a vampire.

With a chill in his heart he hurried closer, abruptly realizing that it was the sense of Amadeus that he felt.

Amadeus... here.

It was no wonder he had been unable to discover the traitor among the wh.o.r.es and pickpockets, he thought with grim fear. The vampire had used his absence to approach Jocelyn.

Flowing through the darkness with blinding speed, he entered the house and moved up the stairs. In the beat of a heart he was in Jocelyn's chamber. He stepped toward the bed, only to halt when a shadowy form abruptly appeared before Kim.

His hand instinctively reached for the dagger before realizing that the old gypsy woman was not Amadeus in disguise, but Nefri, the most powerful of all vampires.

His eyes widened as he offered a bow of respect. Nefri was a legend among vampires and regarded as the most powerful, most blessed of all Immortals.

"Nefri," he murmured.

A smile touched the wrinkled countenance. "Lucien."

His gaze shifted toward the form upon the bed. At any other time he would have been overwhelmed to at last encounter the Great Nefri. It was considered a blessing to merely be in her presence. At the moment, however, he could think of nothing beyond Jocelyn.

He had sensed Amadeus close. He had not been mistaken.

"Miss Kingly?"

"She sleeps peacefully," the older vampire said in soft tones.

"She is well? She had not been harmed?"

"All is well."