Ivan would have given anything to avoid Griselda before he and Arno left for the mountains but she came into the kitchen with little Curtis as the twins were selecting food for their knapsacks.

"Ivan," she said. "How are you?"

He looked at her glossy black hair worn long in defiance of fashion, golden hoops dangling gypsy-like from the lobes of her ears, looked at the face he'd never forgotten, would never forget, at the blue of her eyes--the blue of French skies--and for a moment he couldn't speak.

"Never better," he managed to mumble at last and quickly turned to the child who was examining him curiously with the same bright blue eyes. "Hello, Curtis," he said.

The boy stuck his thumb into his mouth, glancing at his father, then back at Ivan.

"He's confused because there are two of you," she said. Like you were? Ivan was tempted to say. Except she hadn't been too confused to choose the twin she preferred. "My crystal ball showed two faces," Griselda went on. "As well as--" She paused. "Wolf says Curtis is all right." Ivan was suddenly reminded that Wolf hadn't visited them in their San Francisco home since Beth was born so he'd never seen her. But, of course, she wouldn't be a shifter. Though it was true that Cecelia Kellogg and her mother were shapeshifters, Volek women had never been. Beth was in no danger.

"I'm glad Curtis is--safe," Ivan said. He spoke the truth. He wouldn't wish shapeshifting on anyone.

Curtis took his thumb from his mouth. "Two daddies," he said clearly, smiling delightedly. "One mama, two daddies." "No, dear, he's your Uncle Ivan," Griselda corrected. Curtis thrust out his lower lip. "Is not."

Griselda scooped him into her arms. "Be careful," she said to the men. "Both of you." She kissed Arno quickly and left the kitchen with the little boy chanting, "Is not, is not, is not."

"He's recently discovered the power of saying no," Arno said. "I guess your daughter is a little too young yet." Ivan murmured something noncommittal. He loved Beth, she was the sweetest little girl in the world and he'd grown fond of Samara but they both seemed very far away now that he was near Griselda....

He was jerked from his reverie by the strangest sensation he'd ever had-the awful feeling that something was crawling through his mind. He whirled around. Druse had come into the kitchen, a baby in her arms. He'd all but forgotten she and Waino had a daughter.

Not Druse in his head. The baby? He peered at the child, startled by how her silver-gray eyes resembled his mother's. Damned if the baby didn't have Liisi's eyes. The pale eyes and the fair hair were particularly striking because the little girl had an only slightly lighter version of Druse's dark skin.

"Marti wanted to meet you," Druse said.

"How do you do, Marti?" Ivan said formally, thinking it was an odd way to put it. The baby was too young to care whether she met anyone or not.

Marti didn't smile.

The unpleasant feeling in his head was fading, thank God. "How have you been?" he asked Druse. She looked tired and more careworn than he'd ever seen her.

"I'm feeling older," she said. "I miss you, Ivan. And I miss Samara."

"She often speaks of you."

"I hope you find poor Melanie." With that, Druse drifted from the room, carrying the baby away with her. Because of what Arno planned to do, they couldn't risk taking horses so the brothers set off on foot across the field to the pine grove. At first Ivan was overly conscious of the holstered Colt he wore on his right hip but as they fell into a steady pace, he forgot the revolver.

"You never really answered my question," Arno said. "Is Melanie a stalker?"

Ivan shrugged. "I don't know. She seemed a bit down the week before she left but nothing unusual. Melanie's never been Little Miss Sunshine."

"You don't think she's using this disappearance of hers as a ruse?"

"Why should she? Melanie has free access to Volek House any time she wishes."

"From what I've heard she has no idea of what her father was. But she does know about stalkers. And shifters. Knows I'm one. And Quincy and Leo. Cecelia, too, for that matter. She's even aware Wolf's son Reynolds is a potential shifter." "We know so little about stalkers," Ivan said. "Maybe someone has to teach them what they are and what they must do."

"And maybe not. But you have a point. Even if Melanie has changed into what her father was, she may be too confused to turn on us."

If she is a stalker, Ivan thought, and you shift to track her, won't that trigger her? Put you in danger? He shook his head. Melanie might remember that silver was poisonous to shifters but she'd never shot a gun in her life. Even if she had, where would she get silver bullets?

As if following Ivan's thoughts, Arno said, "Wolf taught all the kids to use bows and arrows, Melanie included."

Was it possible--? Ivan shook his head but couldn't escape his uneasiness. Wanting to change the subject, he asked, "Is something wrong with Marti?"

Arno glanced at him. "So she got inside your head, too, did she?"

Ivan hadn't quite believed it was the baby until now. He nodded. "Felt like a snake in my mind."

"She hasn't done any real harm--we're hoping she can't. Druse keeps her as far away from Quincy as possible, though, because we've discovered Marti can make him worse."

"Can't he be let out at all?"

Arno shook his head. "He shifts back and forth so randomly we don't dare. Leo brings him food and clean clothes--things like that. It's hard on the poor kid but he insists on doing what he can for his twin. He does seem to have a calming effect on Quincy. That's why Wolf is making all these trips--he's hoping some shaman somewhere will know of a way to help Quincy."

"What do you think?"

Arno didn't answer for so long Ivan didn't believe he meant to. "I've never told anyone what happened to me in a trench in France," Arno said at last and launched into the story of his struggle to keep from shifting in the middle of a war.

"The urge is strong, Ivan, even in me," he finished. "Stronger than you can imagine. Luckily Leo doesn't have the irresistible need to set the beast in himself free that his brother does. Or even my less violent urge. In fact, I don't think Leo would ever shift again if Quincy were to die."

Ivan looked at him. "Then you believe death is the the only solution for Quincy."

"I hope not but I'm afraid it is."

"But who--?" Ivan broke off.

"Who'd shoot the silver bullet into his heart?" Arno asked. "None of us Voleks. Unlike Father, there's not one of us who could bear the guilt of killing our own."

Don't be too sure, brother, Ivan said to himself, once again aware of the Colt at his hip.

They hiked on in silence, saving their breath as they climbed steadily until, near sunset, they finally reached ground covered with a light dusting of snow and Arno called a halt. His breath puffed white into the chill air when he spoke.

"As near as I can figure we're close to the place where Father died. Neither Wolf nor Chung like to talk about that night but over the years I've pieced together enough to make a good guess."

Ivan looked around at typical high foothill country--pines, rocky outcroppings, hillsides dropping into small valleys--uninhabited by humans. "So the stalker must be buried around here?"

"Wolf wouldn't have carried him far."

"But why would Melanie come here? She doesn't know the truth about her father."

"Don't you remember Father's Russian saying about blood calling to blood?"

Looking into Arno's golden eyes, Ivan saw his reflection. Arno sees himself in my eyes, too, Ivan thought, feeling for a moment they were united as they used to be, one instead of two. Not only of the same blood but the same person, split in twain before birth. He blinked and the spell was broken.

"Besides," Arno pointed out, "we have to start somewhere."

After examining animal and bird tracks in the snow, they agreed the fall was no more than a day old. For all their scouting they found no trace of human footprints.

"There's no use putting it off any longer," Arno said at last. "I hope to hell I can manage without the moon. And that when I do change I can remember to hunt for Melanie."

A chill colder than the December wind settled around Ivan's heart. He wasn't afraid of Arno's beast, it would never harm him. What he feared was himself.

Arno lifted off the amulet with the Elhaz rune, handed it to him, leaned against a pine trunk and closed his eyes. For a long time nothing happened. Ivan, watching, was lulled into the belief that Arno had failed when suddenly his brother straightened and clawed at his jacket, moaning. Ivan tensed.

Off came Arno's clothes. By the time he was naked the change was well along. Dark hair covered his body in a thick coat, his face had elongated, his teeth were fangs. Tension knotted Ivan's gut as the beast fixed feral eyes on him and snarled.

Free! The beast growled a warning at the human not to come closer, even though he knew this was one human he wouldn't harm, even though the human carried a gun. Couldn't harm because blood linked them in some strange way.

The human called to him, the same sound, over and over, almost like a bird's cry. Mel-an-ee, mel-an-ee, mel-an-ee. The beast ignored him, raising his muzzle to test the scents carried on the evening breeze. Birds. Small gatherers of nuts. Fox. A sickening trace of skunk. None of these were fit prey. He trotted between the pines, seeking deep cover, then stopped to sniff the air again, aware the human trailed him. It didn't matter, he'd soon outdistance him.

The scent of deer mixed with the tang of blood excited him. Prey! Already wounded, the easier to bring down. But he detected human scent as well, scent other than the one who followed him. The beast hesitated. Danger came with humans. The injured deer was close enough to tempt him. If he controlled his hunt lust, he could creep up on the prey, at the same time pinpointing the other human's position. If he saw danger he'd hunt somewhere else.

Resisting the urge to howl, the beast loped on, circling to arrive upwind of the deer. The unknown human didn't matter--humans had no sense of smell.

To his satisfaction, the darkness under the trees deepened. Night was his time, even without the moon. As the deer scent grew stronger, he slowed, sliding cautiously from one tree to the next. The unknown human was also near by, close enough to raise his hackles.

When he finally spotted the deer lying on the ground, struggling feebly, the scent of blood had grown so overpowering it was all he could do to hold back, fighting the blood lust that threatened to overwhelm him.

The deer was caught in a human's steel trap, helpless, its leg broken. Though the human wasn't visible, the strong scent warned the beast to remain cautious. He scanned the trees and the ground around the deer, his gaze finally stopping at a broken wall of rock rising just beyond the trapped prey. Rocks meant dens, meant caves--it was there the human hid.

With a gun?

The beast tried to make sense of what lay before him--the deer in the trap, the human lurking in a hole in the rock wall. Why? Waiting for him?

The deer sensed him and its struggles grew frantic. The tang of fresh blood clotted the air, pulsing redly in the beast's head until he lost control. He leaped. The deer bleated in terror as he sprang for its throat.

Warm blood flowed satisfyingly over his tongue and down his throat as he tore at the prey's flesh, making him forget everything else.

Until the denned human screamed.

The beast's head came up. A woman. Standing near the rocks staring at him. He saw no gun but she angered him, interrupting him at the kill. He rose, snarling, her shrill screams hurting his ears.

Ivan ran frantically through the darkness toward the sound of screaming, terrified that he'd be too late to save Melanie. It must be Melanie--what other woman would be in this desolate place on a December night?

When he heard snarls the hair prickled on his nape. He stumbled over a mangled deer, recovered his footing and saw them in the pale light from the rising moon--Melanie cringed against a rock wall, the beast advancing on her.

"No, Arno, no!" Ivan yelled. "No, don't, that's Melanie!" At the same time his hand gripped the hilt of the Colt and yanked it from the holster.

The beast turned his head, looked at Ivan and froze. Blood stained the fur around the muzzle, making him more fearsome than ever. Ivan took careful aim at the beast's heart.

The Army had taught him sharpshooting, at this distance he couldn't miss. As he began to tighten his finger on the trigger, the beast threw up his head and howled, the sound laced with agony.

Ivan shuddered, aimed again and fired.

Chapter 22.

"The deer," Melanie cried. "The deer!"

Samara, bending over her daughter in the bedroom at Volek House, grasped Melanie's shoulders and shook her gently. "Wake up," she ordered. "Wake up, Melanie. You're having a nightmare."

Melanie's eyes opened. For a moment she stared at her mother without seeming to recognize her, then her face crumpled and she began to weep. "Mama, I couldn't open the trap. I tried but I couldn't. And then the beast--"

"I know, dear, I know." Samara sat on the bed and smoothed strands of hair from Melanie's forehead. "But that was months ago. You're safe now."

Melanie sat up, hugging herself. "I'm safe. But the poor deer died. And Arno--" Melanie shuddered. "I can't stand to look at him."

Samara frowned. "You knew he was a shifter."

"Then why isn't he locked in the cellar like Quincy?" "Because Arno controls his beast." Samara stood up. "Just remember, you wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been for him."

Melanie grimaced. "I'm sure no one will let me forget it."

Samara sighed. Moving back to Volek House hadn't been easy for the girl but, as Ivan had pointed out, they belonged here. Uniting with Arno to find and rescue Melanie had changed Ivan's attitude toward his brother. They were once again as close as ever. As they should be.

"You'll never know how close I came to killing him," Ivan had admitted to Samara. "Killing my twin. And the beast knew it. Yet he didn't attack; he waited to die. At the last moment, thank God I had enough sense to shift my aim so the silver bullet merely glanced off his shoulder." Ivan shook his head. "At that, I scarred him for life."

"I hate this place!" Melanie cried, bringing Samara's attention back to her.

"You have nothing to complain about," Samara said firmly. "Everyone's gone out of their way to try to help you."

"If you mean the screen test Hawk arranged through one of his old flying buddies, what makes you think that helped me? You forced me into going through with it but why would anyone in their right mind want to put me in a movie?"

Samara held onto her fraying patience. "I suggest you wait for the results before despairing."

"Despair! What do you know about despair?"

God grant you never know as much about despair as I do, Samara said to herself....

Melanie's screams had roused Wolf from an uneasy sleep. He'd opened his door, ready to go to her when he saw Samara slipping into her daughter's room. Another nightmare, he supposed. Now thoroughly awake, he walked along the hall, pausing at Melanie's door to listen to the murmur of voices inside. Reassured, he continued on, his thoughts reverting to the troubling problem of Quincy.

Though the shamans and medicine men he'd visited had offered many remedies for controlling shapeshifters, not one had helped Quincy. Much as he dreaded the journey, there was but one avenue left to explore.

He tapped lightly at Waino's door--since Marti's birth Waino and Druse no longer shared a bedroom. Marti was proving to be another troublesome enigma but so far she was more annoying than anything else. She'd never harmed anyone. Quincy was a killer.

Waino answered so quickly that Wolf suspected he'd been awake before the knock. "Ah, Wolf. Shall we go to the tower room?"

Waino's disconcerting faculty of always being one step ahead had ceased to bother Wolf. God knows he needed an able ally.

The tower room was no longer the same as when Liisi was alive. Waino had removed Liisi's tapestries and her blue silk rug but had done nothing to add his stamp to the room. "It remains a place of power," Waino had explained, "but not mine. I dare not interfere."