And all she could think of was her disappointment that Lucien was not the gentleman she had thought him to be.

Her near-hysterical laugh echoed through the room, and she pressed her hands to her face.

Perhaps she was going mad. It would certainly be the preferable explanation for the horrid day.

Preferable certainly to the thought that the man she loved was a vampire.

Reaching the narrow window, she pressed her cheek to the cool pane and closed her eyes.

She should be thinking of what she intended to do. All too soon it would be morning, and she would be forced to face Lucien once again. She needed to consider whether she intended to demand that he leave her home or to accept his claim that he must be near to protect her.

At the moment neither option seemed bearable.

Having him near and yet knowing deep within that everything about him had been a lie was bound to be painful. Then again, if there were a traitorous vampire stalking her, did she truly desire to face him on her own?

She heaved a sigh, wishing only to lie upon the narrow bed and put all of her troubles behind her. Come the morning, she might even manage to convince herself that this was all no more than a ghastly nightmare.

"Miss Kingly."

The m.u.f.fled sound of her name being called had Jocelyn abruptly opening her eyes. Dazed by the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts, she scanned the empty garden. There was nothing to be seen for a moment, and then, unbelievably, the slender shape of a young lad stepped from behind a bush.

"Thomas," she breathed as she hurriedly fumbled with the latch and threw up the sash.

"What is it?"

The urchin stepped forward into a shaft of moonlight to reveal a heavy bandage around his hand. "There was trouble at the warehouse. I need your help."

"Dear heavens. Do not move," she commanded in urgent tones. "I will be down in a moment."

"Please, you must hurry," he called.

There was no need for his urging as she hastily turned to rush from her chamber and down the narrow flight of stairs. Poor Thomas. He always seemed so swaggeringly confident. So invincible. So very wise. It was quite easy to forget he was just a little boy. And now he had been harmed. It was insupportable.

She moved to the back of the house and used the kitchen door to lead her into the garden.

She nearly tumbled over her skirts in her haste, until at last she gave a hiss of impatience and hauled them well above her ankles to rid herself of their annoying tendency to cling.

Only when she had actually left the house and entered the dark shadows of the night did she take note of the odd chill in the air. Only moments before she had been smothering in the unusual summer heat; now she could not ignore the p.r.i.c.kles that raced over her skin.

It was very strange, but she did not allow herself to be distracted. Thomas was in need of her help and she could not fret over a sudden coldness in the air.

Coming to a halt beside the waiting lad, she gently took his arm in her hands. "Oh, Thomas, what has occurred?"

He gave a faint sniff as he attempted to be brave. "A horrid man forced his way into the warehouse. I could not halt him, Miss Kingly. I am sorry."

Jocelyn caught her breath in horror. Was it the traitorous vampire that Lucien had warned her of? Had he concluded that slaying poor prost.i.tutes was not as desirable as harming innocent children? The thought was enough to make her heart stop in fear.

"No, Thomas, you should not even have attempted such a thing," she said in appalled tones.

"I cannot see to your injuries here. We must go inside."

Without warning he pulled his arm from her grasp, his grimy face set in lines of determination.

"No."

"Thomas, do not be stubborn. You must have those wounds cleaned or they will fester."

"Not yet." His eyes appeared feverishly bright in the silver moonlight. "The man is still at the warehouse."

"What?" she breathed in shock.

"He has Annie."

"No." Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Is she harmed?"

"No, but the b.u.g.g.e.r has threatened to kill her."

Jocelyn struggled to think through the sudden cloud of terror that filled her mind. Not an easy task with the image of the tiny, fragile child in the hands of a bloodthirsty monster burning before her eyes.

Every instinct urged her to rush to the warehouse and save the little girl. It was her nature to attempt to protect those who depended upon her.

Only that sternly practical part of her nature that had saved her upon so many occasions kept her feet from mindlessly fleeing down the street. She could not face this monster on her own.

Regardless if he were merely crazed or a vampire, she needed help.

"We must go to Mr. Ryan," she abruptly decided. Surely he was the logical choice. He was the only one in the position to put a final end to this villain. "He will be able to take this monster away."

Thomas gave a violent shake of his head, his expression fearful. "No, you cannot. The man said as you was to come alone."

Jocelyn froze at the unexpected words. She had presumed that Thomas had come to her because he realized she would be willing to help. It had never entered her mind that the man had actually sent the lad to fetch her.

The chill in the air thickened, making her shudder with the sense of impending doom.

"What do you mean?" she demanded in cautious tones.

Thomas seemed to hesitate before he swallowed heavily. "He sent me to fetch you. He said you were to come alone and to bring the necklace."

"My necklace?"

"That is what he said. We must hurry."

The necklace. So that was it. She gave an unconscious shake of her head. Lucien had been right. He had warned her the traitors would do whatever necessary to gain command of her Medallion. Now they had revealed precisely how desperate they had become.

She may not desire to believe in vampires or magical Medallions, but she was left with no choice. She had to save Annie. No matter who or what might be threatening her.

"What did this man look like?" she demanded in rasping tones.

Thomas reached out to tug on her arm in impatience. It was obvious he did not approve of her wary caution.

"A big man. With a knife. Annie is in terrible danger. Come on."

Jocelyn grimly held her ground. No one was more eager to rescue the poor girl than herself. But she was wise enough to realize that she could not do so alone.

If it was a vampire holding Annie captive, then there was only one person who could be of help.

"Hold a moment, Thomas. I must fetch Mr. Valin."

A surprising flare of fury rippled over the thin countenance. "No. He said alone."

Feeling a pang of sympathy at the boy's desire to be on their way, she gave a faint sigh. No doubt Thomas was blaming himself for not being able to protect the other children.

"This man is very, very dangerous, Thomas," she explained in gentle tones. "We cannot face him without the help of Mr. Valin. I will be only a moment."

Reaching out to lightly pat his shoulder in a comforting motion, Jocelyn turned on her heel to return to the house. Despite her earlier feelings of betrayal toward Lucien, she could no longer hesitate to turn to him for a.s.sistance. Whatever had occurred between them, he was the one person she knew that she could depend upon in times of danger.

He was the only one she desired at her side.

She had taken only a step, however, when there was a sudden rush of wind behind her. The sharp breeze nearly knocked her to her knees, and she hurriedly turned to discover Thomas surrounded in mist.

Unthinkingly she reached out, attempting to reach the boy before he was entirely hidden by the strange fog. But even as she did so, the mist was thinning and Thomas was gone. In his stead stood Vicar Fallow with an unpleasant smile twisting his lips.

Her heart halted as she gazed at the familiar countenance in disbelief.

It was not possible. It had been Thomas who had been standing before her. She would know his thin face and oversize ears anywhere. Indeed, she would have sworn on her grandmother's Bible that it had been her young friend. People did not shift from one form to another.

People did not, but vampires who possessed the powers of blood l.u.s.t might very well, a dark voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Suddenly she understood her instinctive revulsion toward the man who had pretended such a kindly interest in her. And the reason that he had so determinedly appeared whenever she happened to leave her home.

Her heart resumed beating at a frantic pace. So frantic it nearly smothered her. Lucien had done his best to convince her of the truth of his words. And the danger that surrounded her. She simply had not wanted to listen.

Watching the sudden panic that fluttered over her pale features, Vicar Fallow allowed a cruel chuckle to fill the air.

"I fear that Lucien is otherwise occupied at the moment, Miss Kingly."

"Vicar Fallow," she breathed, still reeling with disbelief.

He offered a mocking bow. "At your service."

"You ... you are the traitor."

"Traitor?" His features seemed to tighten at her insult. "Such an ugly word, my dear. I am a simple scholar."

Her hands pressed together. A thick, icy danger cloaked the air, making it difficult to think.

She knew she should flee, but stark terror held her captive.

"You are attempting to steal my amulet," she blurted out, hoping to distract him long enough that Lucien might notice their presence in the garden and come to rescue her.

A rather feeble plan, but the only one she possessed.

He shrugged with indifference at her accusation. "A necessary inconvenience, I fear. My studies must continue, and for that I need the power of the Medallion."

"Studies?" She gave a blink of surprise. He had claimed to be a scholar, but it made no sense. He was a ruthless killer, was he not? "What studies?"

"The search for the truth." "How can the Medallion offer you truth?"

His smile was edged with cruelty as he took a deliberate step toward her. "I do not believe you would care to know the precise details of my experiments. You have a peculiar fondness for even the lowest vermin that haunt the streets of London."

She shuddered at his evil words, but a welcome flare of anger rushed through her, awakening the courage that had briefly deserted her.

She would not cower before this monster. Not after all the wickedness he had done.

"It was you," she stated in flat tones.

He arched an arrogant brow. "Me?"

"You are the one who killed Molly and those other women."

"Ah, but I cannot take full credit, my dear," he drawled in a taunting fashion. "There would have been no need for such senseless slaughter if you had not proven so lacking in trust. I had hoped for a far more peaceful means of acquiring the Medallion."

She gave a fierce shake of her head. She had never desired anything but happiness for those women. It had been this horrid fiend who had harmed them.

"No, I do not believe you. You are a monster."

The eyes abruptly glittered with a spark of anger. Clearly he did not like having the truth spoken so bluntly.

"There is no need for insults," he spat out in warning. "Indeed, I would suggest you take great care in how you address me. Your position at the moment is precarious at best."

Jocelyn had no need of the warning. Every instinct within her screamed with alarm. Never had she faced such menace. Such tangible evil.

Still, she forced herself to meet that malignant gaze without flinching.

"You cannot force me to give you the Medallion."

His thin lips twisted with annoyance at her daring claim. "No. Someday Nefri will pay for that bit of impertinence. But there are other means of acquiring what I desire."

Jocelyn swallowed the lump in her throat. She did not like the sound of that. Not the tiniest bit.

"Other means?"

"I have devoted my life to the finer arts of torture, my dear." His eyes narrowed as her face paled at the unspoken threat. "As much as I might admire your spirit, there is little hope you will be capable of denying what I wish. At least not for long. You are, after all, a mere mortal."

She could not halt her instinctive step backward. Torture? Dear heavens. Did she possess enough courage? Could she face pain and maintain her honor?

With a wrenching effort she banished the heavy sense of doom that threatened to shroud her.

She could not allow herself to give in to despair.