The sensation only grew stronger as the hack halted in the shadows of the warehouse. With a stiff reluctance she forced herself to accept Lucien's help in alighting, then moved toward the narrow door. Much to her astonishment, she discovered it already open. A frown marred her forehead. The children were wise enough never to leave the door unattended.

"Thomas?" she called softly.

In a heartbeat Lucien had firmly grasped her arm, the moonlight glinting off the dagger he held in his hand.

"Wait here a moment," he commanded, his features oddly grim.

"No, Lucien. I will not be left behind."

Just for a moment he appeared poised to argue. It was obvious that he desired to keep her tucked away from danger. Then, noting her determined expression, he gave a resigned shake of his head.

"Very well," he conceded, "but remain behind me."

With a startling graceful movement Lucien slipped through the door, leaving Jocelyn to follow behind. She was careful to keep close, still bothered by that ominous sense of dread.

Ridiculous or not, it could not be shaken.

They had managed to enter the cavernous room and take several steps forward, when the familiar form of Thomas abruptly stepped in their path.

"'Ere, now. It be Miss Kingly's gentleman."

Lucien came to a smooth halt. "Good evening, Thomas. Is all well?"

An unexpected grin split the dirty, angular countenance. "I'd say. A bloke came earlier with a whole cartload of food."

"What bloke? "Jocelyn demanded, stepping from behind Lucien with a startled frown. For months she had been caring for these children, and never to her knowledge had another shown the slightest interest in their welfare.

"Oh, Miss Kingly." Thomas gave a c.o.c.ky bow. "Evening to you." Jocelyn's frown did not ease. "Who brought you the food, Thomas?"

The lad lifted a bony shoulder as he waved his hand toward a distant corner.

"He is over with Freddie."

Turning her head, Jocelyn slowly stiffened as she recognized the thin, balding man attired in black.

"Vicar Fallow," she breathed.

Almost as if hearing her soft words, the vicar slowly turned and regarded her from across the room. Even at such a distance the pale eyes seemed to chill her deep within. They glittered in the darkness with an unholy light, sending a rash of p.r.i.c.kles over her skin.

Then she was sternly chastising her absurd fancy.

This gentleman had revealed nothing but generous kindness. First by chasing off the villains who had attacked her in the street, and now tonight, by offering starving children a much-needed meal.

She should be delighted with his appearance at the warehouse, not shuddering with distaste.

Keeping that thought firmly in mind, Jocelyn managed to conjure a smile as the vicar hurried across the floor to offer her a faint bow.

"Miss Kingly."

"Vicar," she murmured. "It was most kind of you to bring food to the children."

He moved his hands to his bony chest in a modest gesture. "I fear it is not much."

Jocelyn glanced to where the children greedily gorged themselves upon the large platters of food.

"It is far more than they had before."

"Perhaps." The vicar waited until Jocelyn returned her gaze to his thin countenance. "I only wish it were possible to take them away from such squalor. They should have homes with loving families."

"We can do only what is in our power."

"That is true, my dear." He heaved a deep sigh. "Still, I worry for their safety. It is said another maiden was killed this evening."

Jocelyn felt the blood drain from her face. No. This could not be happening. Not another poor, wretched maiden.

"Oh, no," she whispered.

"Terrible, is it not?" Vicar Fallow murmured, reaching out to pat her arm lightly. "A beast walks the streets of London. It is said he hunts someone or something."

Something?

Unconsciously stepping away from his distasteful touch, Jocelyn lifted a hand to the amulet about her neck.

What was happening?

And why?

"I...".

"Jocelyn." Abruptly appearing at her side, Lucien wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. "There is no need to linger. The children are fed this night."

Shaken by the revelation of yet another murder, Jocelyn readily allowed Lucien to lend her support The familiar scent of his male warmth shrouded her in a sense of well-being.

"Yes."

The gaunt countenance of Vicar Fallow hardened at the arrival of Lucien, but the thin smile remained intact as he regarded the shaken Jocelyn.

"Miss Kingly, do not forget that I stand ready to be of a.s.sistance if ever you should need me."

She felt Lucien's arm tighten about her shoulder as she gave a vague nod of her head. Clearly the two gentlemen had taken a swift dislike of each other. "Thank you, Vicar."

"Come, Jocelyn," Lucien urged, turning her around and leading her from the warehouse.

Jocelyn made no demur. She wanted to be away from the warehouse, and even the dangerous streets of St. Giles.

A beast did, indeed, seem to be walking the streets of London, and she very much feared he was stalking her.

Lucien cursed himself for a fool as he carefully bundled Jocelyn in the waiting hack and then settled himself close to her side.

He should have insisted that she not enter the warehouse. He had sensed before they had even arrived that Amadeus would be waiting. But he had a.s.sured himself that while he was near, the traitor could do nothing to harm the maiden. And that it was important he discover precisely what Amadeus was plotting.

Besides, he had been touched by her plea to face her life without the walls of a prison, he ruefully acknowledged.

Although life behind the Veil offered eternal peace and prosperity for vampires, he had discovered a growing resentment at being confined over the past two centuries. He did not want a tidy existence that provided for his every need. He longed for the unpredictable, for confronting a day with no notion of what might occur. Like Jocelyn, he desired to confront the delights, pains, and pa.s.sions life had to offer in the fullest.

And so he had ignored his good sense and allowed Jocelyn to accompany him into the dark streets. Now he could only wonder if he had made a dreadful mistake.

Wrapping his arms about her, he leaned his head against her satin hair.

"You are very quiet," he murmured.

"Vicar Fallow said that another maiden was murdered."

He grimaced, wondering if he should confess that it was Vicar Fallow himself who had committed the atrocity. It would certainly ensure that she never trusted the renegade. But it would also raise endless questions that Lucien was not yet prepared to answer.

How could he confess that Amadeus was a vampire without exposing himself?

And how could he possibly protect Jocelyn if she feared him as a monster?

"I am sorry," he said gently.

"What does this have to do with me?"

Lost in the sweet scent and heat of her, Lucien discovered himself caught off guard by her sudden question.

"What do you mean?"

"First there was Molly, who had a paper with my name in her hand, and then, last night, those horrid men left that note warning others would be killed."

Lucien tucked her closer, briefly wishing that Nefri had chosen any other maiden but this one to bind with the Medallion. He did not want Jocelyn in danger. He did not want to hear that edge of fear in her voice. And most of all, he did not want to know that Amadeus was always skulking in the shadows, waiting to do whatever necessary to gain command of the artifact.

"I truly do not know, my dove," he retorted in rueful honesty. If only he knew what Amadeus plotted, he would feel considerably more confident in his skill to protect her.

She gave a shake of her head. "It makes no sense."

"At the moment I fear I must agree. I do promise, however, that I will discover what the demon is plotting."

Without warning she pulled back to regard him with a worried frown.

"You will not put yourself in danger?" she demanded. He slowly smiled at the genuine anxiety etched upon her beautiful countenance. Jocelyn may not yet accept the fact that an unmistakable affection was growing between them, but it was there whatever her determination to keep him at arm's length.

"No more danger than necessary," he a.s.sured her.

In the shadows her magnificent eyes suddenly flashed with an unmistakable fire.

"Lucien."

He laughed softly at her chiding tones, firmly pulling her back into his arms and pressing her head to his chest. It felt astonishingly wonderful to hold her close.

There was a silent pause before she heaved a soft sigh. "Why is this happening?"

He glanced out the window of the carriage to view the filthy streets lined with desperate, hungry people. How easy it would be to whisk Jocelyn away from all of this and provide her with the beauty and luxury she deserved. But that would not keep her safe from the traitors, and he was far from certain that she desired to leave those poor souls who depended upon her.

It appeared for the moment he could only offer support.

"Jocelyn, you are a strong woman. Strong enough to face this danger and survive."

He felt her shiver. "How can you be so certain?"

Determined to lighten the dark mood that was threatening to overwhelm her, Lucien deliberately tilted her chin up so that he could smile deep into her troubled eyes.

"Because I am not only handsome, charming, and witty, I am also quite perceptive. I no doubt already know you better than you know yourself."

Thankfully the tightness of her features lessened and a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt glinted to life within her eyes.

"You, sir, are impossible."

"And charming and handsome and witty," he added, bending slowly forward to softly brush those tempting lips with his own.

For one delicious heartbeat she allowed his mouth to linger. Then, with a near -tangible reluctance, she pulled back to regard him with a faint frown.

"You can make no claim of winning any kisses on this night, Lucien," she pointed out in unsteady tones. "There were no wagers or forfeits to be paid."

"Shall I admit that I simply could not resist?"

She opened her mouth to deliver a pert retort, but thankfully the hack drew to a shuddering halt and Lucien was swift to slip out of the door and help her onto the street. She did manage a jaundiced glance as she swept past him and toward the house, but it did not entirely hide the color that stained her cheeks.

Ridding himself of the impatient driver, Lucien strolled up the path to join her as she opened the door and entered the foyer. She was clearly eager to be away from his presence, but with a firm motion he reached up to grasp her arm.

"Hold a moment, Jocelyn. I wish to ensure your chamber is safe."

Her lips thinned at his commanding tone, but as if sensing he would not be pressed upon this issue, she gave a slow nod of her head.

"Very well."

"Wait here."

With a last glance toward Jocelyn, Lucien turned and slipped through the dark silence.

Although he could feel no threat in the air, he was not about to make any mistakes on this night.

Jocelyn had been frightened enough. He was uncertain even her staunch courage could cope with another unpleasant surprise.

It did not take long to search through the upper chambers, and certain that Amadeus had no further traps devised, Lucien returned down the stairs and took Jocelyn's hands in his own.

"All is well," he a.s.sured her softly.

In the light of the candle that had been left by Meg, Jocelyn's features appeared remarkably fragile. Lucien caught his breath, mesmerized by her beauty.