"Transylvania." She frowned. "Does it have dungeons?"

"I expect so." He dismissed that. "I'll make arrangements tonight and go tomorrow."

"So that's it. You're going to just throw yourself in the way of being tortured for some stupid promise you made to some monks."

"We live by our promises. They are the only compa.s.s we have." His voice went distant.

"Well, I don't have that compa.s.s. If you made a mistake promising, just don't do it."

"That's not who I am." His brows drew together."Well, maybe you ought to change that."

He took a breath. She felt him recede again. He was shocked at her. But then he reengaged. "We don't know that your visions all come true. Only the one about Carina has for certain," He took her shoulders. "Even if it is true, for all we know, if I don't go, Elyta will storm Firenze and imprison me in the dungeons of this palazzo."

She gasped. "This house has dungeons?"

"We use ours for wine." He shrugged. "Or maybe it's the dungeons at Mirso you see. We cannot know how to avoid your vision, if it is true, or if it could be avoided."

"G.o.d, this is awful."

He touched her cheek, the one without the scar. She had almost forgotten about the scar. "Perhaps that is why one shouldn't take too much stock in visions." His voice rumbled even when it was almost a whisper. "Perhaps the visions are only a possible future. And anyway, we can do nothing today except worry, and that seems a waste of precious time." He took a larger book from the stack he'd brought. "Let me distract you." He opened it to a random page. Figures entwined together. They had slanting, dark-lined eyes, and they were...

Kate peered closer. Oh, my dear Lord in heaven. That was a phallus, and another there, and there. And the people were...

copulating? It was a little hard to tell.

"It's called the Kama Sutra. It's Indian."

Kate drew the book closer. "Can people do that?"

"Oh, yes. Though I must admit some positions are not entirely comfortable;" He lifted her chin. "But there are one or two I can personally recommend."

She looked into those green eyes. If there was only to be one more day together, she knew how she wanted to spend it. She clutched him to her. "I am afraid."

"So am I," he murmured into her hair. "So to h.e.l.l with fear. Let's make love."

How could he sleep like that when tonight or tomorrow night he was going to leave the sanctuary of Florence and take the b.l.o.o.d.y emerald halfway across Europe with Elyta and Kate's own vision waiting to waylay him? Kate took a curl of dark hair and pushed it behind his ear. He didn't stir. Not that today had not been wonderful. She smiled when she remembered how she'd surprised him by licking him in return. She'd seen a picture of a woman doing that in the book, and after some initial hesitation, she'd gone about it quite enthusiastically. How she liked to make him moan. It hadn't been distasteful at all. A little salty, perhaps, along with the cinnamon.

But now the light leaking around the shutters was copper red and fading. Soon it would be evening. He would take the emerald and go to some G.o.d-awful place in the mountains, if Elyta didn't catch him first. What to do? She felt sure his impulse to follow his duty at any cost was wrong. The man seemed to have a thousand b.l.o.o.d.y internal rules about how he should act. And he was stubborn to a fault. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest beneath the brocade bedcover. The wardrobe loomed in the corner. In the lower right-hand drawer, the stone sat inside her reticule. She could practically feel its presence. It was as though it was... brooding. Or threatening. It was a threat, all right, to Gian more than anyone.

Why didn't she go mad when she looked at it? She chewed one nail.

Perhaps it was because while it showed all possible futures, she saw the real future and she was immune to the chaos of possibilities. And hadn't all her visions started when the stone had come into her life? Maybe it was the reason she was having visions. Maybe the stone was the answer to all her questions.She eased herself out of bed, so as not to wake Gian. Books were scattered on the floor, along with two large silver trays, a.s.sorted china, three wine bottles, and the remains of their meals. And their dressing gowns. Gian's was nearest, black silk embroidered in red to highlight some kind of Oriental writing. She slipped it on, reveling in the scent of him that clung to it, and went to kneel in front of the wardrobe door.

A certain satisfaction hovered in the air. Did she imagine that it was the stone that called her, and that now hummed with satisfaction? She opened the drawer and rummaged to the bottom, pulling out her silver-embroidered reticule. The stone was heavy inside it. She swallowed. I'm immune, for better or for worse, she told herself. Stop delaying and just open it.

Still, it took her several moments to pull open the drawstring and fish around for the stone. Its cool, smooth surface in her palm promised, threatened. She opened her hand. At first she saw only the green cabochon mound, perfect, without the little clouds of imperfection most emeralds contained. Then, deep inside, the lazy coils rolled with their glinting scales. She tried to breathe, but it was hard. The scales flashed, coruscating. She couldn't quite make out...

A feeling of dislocation from herself descended.

No! But it was too late. The room disappeared abruptly and was replaced by a desert landscape. A few gigantic hewn building stones littered the sand. A red and gold striped tent was pitched among them and five camels knelt in its shade. She sensed a yearning in the air almost painful in its intensity. Then the sand began to whirl, and she whirled with it. And she was home. Home!

She was shouting. It was the most joyful moment she had ever experienced. She wanted to cry and laugh and scream and tear at her hair. Home! She caught a glimpse of many other giant gemstones, blue and red and green and clear white, gleaming and whirling in a tower of light. And over all poured water, precious water. Around the fountain, huge stone statues of some unknown G.o.ds loomed up into the darkness. It was a frightening place. But she wasn't frightened. Peace filled her.

The room wavered back into view around her. The feeling of peace still enveloped her. She looked down at the stone, cupped in her hands.

"Gian," she called softly.

"What, my love?" His voice was sleepy.

She rose, cradling the stone. He sat up, alarmed now. '"What is it, Kate?"

"The stone doesn't want to go to Transylvania. It wants to go back to the desert."

He frowned. But he didn't say that stones don't want things. He didn't ask which desert.

"Not just the desert, though. There were other jewels there. Together they seemed... alive. And it was... a temple? Maybe.

Dark and underground. That's where you must take it."

"I can't." His voice was flat.

"What, you don't have boats?" He was just being contrary. The stone had to get back to the desert. She could feel its need even now.

"Of course I have ships. I still keep a small fleet at Amalfi."

How wrong she had been to think him a struggling gigolo. "Well, then. It's settled."

"I promised I'd take it to Mirso."

Now he was just being difficult. "Take it to the desert, Gian. Avoid the dungeon."

"Or maybe the dungeon you saw is in the desert. I'm won't play that game." He got out of bed and pulled on his breeches. His expression said he was struggling with something. Then it hardened. "I must make arrangements to go."

She felt herself shut down. "I must as well. I'm sure the draft on your mother's bank is ready. I'm not giving you the stone until I have it in my hand." Why had she said something like that? She hadn't even been thinking about going yet. She'd forgotten all about England. Maybe because he was leaving her just like he'd left every other woman in his life. Just like she'd been left so long ago. She didn't want to be like all the other women in his life and she didn't want to be the one who was abandoned. The best way to do that was to let him know it was really she who was leaving. She wouldn't wait and wonder if he was in some dungeon somewhere...

"Stay with my mother until I get back. I'll escort you wherever you want to go myself."

"Who knows if you'll be back," she said, taking the stone and putting it back in her reticule, just to escape the need she felt emanating from it. It didn't work.

He set his lips together. "Then my mother will escort you."

She raised her brows. "I hardly think so."

"You don't understand." He pulled on his shirt hastily. "If Elyta thinks you might have the stone, you are not safe outside our protection."

She wanted more than anything else to shout, "Then stay and protect me." But she didn't. His b.l.o.o.d.y honor wouldn't let him.

And she didn't want to be just an... an obligation. He was so bound to his horrible compa.s.s they would never suit. Suit? They had no future together. She was weakening enough to imagine he might care enough to stay with her. Not likely. So he might as well go and be done with it. "Very well. Your mother will escort me." She had no intention of waiting around for his mother to pack what would no doubt be enormous trunks and muster an entourage for a stately journey back to England. But he need not know that.

His shoulders relaxed visibly. He looked at her, once, with such tristesse in his eyes it startled her. And then he smiled. "Thank you. Thank you for that."

She looked away.

He hopped on one foot and then the other as he pulled on his boots. "I'll see if Mother has received the draft," And he was gone.

She found herself somehow sitting on the carpet in a pool of blue silk just where she'd been standing, as though she'd been deflated.

That was it, then.

Chapter Twelve.

His mother was sitting at her writing table when Gian burst into her apartments. The deep rose satin of her dress spread out around her in l.u.s.trous folds.

"Did you get the draft?"

Her quill scratched across the heavy paper for almost a minute before she deigned to answer. Gian had a premonition of trouble.

"Yes," she said finally, sitting back. "As you would know if you were not locked up day and night in our young guest's room doing who knows what." She frowned at him. Then she sighed. "Or I suppose everyone does know what."

Gian flushed. "I did not mean to make trouble for you."

"You never do, cara mia."

He took a breath. He must go carefully here. She wanted to take the stone to Mirso for him. He couldn't allow that. "I crave a boon, Mother."

"I suspected as much." She looked him square in the face. "You intend to go to Mirso and you want me to take care of your lady love."

"Yes."

"You are an honorable man. I'm proud of that. But in this case I must insist that I go with you." Her eyes turned pleading. "You are my son, Gian. Precious to me and made more precious by the fact that children are so rare for us. So I will see you through this mission of yours. Your paramour can stay here until we return. Elyta won't pursue a mere human."

"Kate won't stay without one of us to keep her here." He ran his hands through his hair. "Don't you understand? If anything happens to her, my life will mean nothing to me."

"If something happens to you, I would be the same." Her voice was adamant.

He chewed his lip. Should he tell her? How could he not? It might be the only way to get her to stay with Kate. "I'll be safe from Elyta."

"And why is that? She's older."

"I... I have been exhibiting some unusual... abilities under duress."

His mother frowned. Then she sighed. "Fires?"

Gian's mouth actually fell open. "You knew?"

"You are what they call a 'firebrand.' That's why Rubius sent you to North Africa."

"But... but I only began starting fires in Algiers. How did you know?"

"Actually," she said, putting down her quill, "you didn't realize it, but you started fires the moment you came into your powers at p.u.b.erty. That's why I had you train with that Zen master. To gain control."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He felt betrayed.

"The first flush of hormones always brings it on in a powerful one. We thought it would pa.s.s. Rubius warned me that in your case it might return."

Warned. That was an ominous word. "So I gather it isn't the best news to have your only son declared a firebrand. Are there many of us?"

"I have known of only one. And that was long ago. He... died."

"How?"His mother cleared her throat and looked away. "His moods began to be... unpredictable. He started fires everywhere, anytime..." She trailed off. The vampire had gone insane.

"They killed him, didn't they? The Elders?" Of course they did. He didn't fit the Rules.

She nodded. "But it doesn't have to be like that. I told Rubius that even if we couldn't suppress it, you could learn to control it.

It... it could be useful even." She didn't believe that. He could see the worry in her eyes. Maybe that was why she didn't want him going to Mirso alone. Maybe. Rubius and the Elders would kill him too. And if they did not? Was he doomed to sink into insanity, starting fires everywhere he went? It occurred to him that he had lived his life for the Rules, when by his very nature he was outside them.

"At any rate," he said. "I can keep Elyta at bay. Keep Miss Sheridan safe until I return."

She rose and gripped his arms. "I can't let you go alone. You know that. Elyta will bring others. Even your abilities as a firebrand will not save you. How can I stand by and risk the stone falling into her hands?" She shook her head. "No. You will thank me for this in the end. And when it is over, your light o' love will be waiting for you."

He stared into her liquid brown eyes. She meant what she said. He bowed his head. "Then be ready to leave tomorrow night, Mother. We travel light and fast. No carriages. You'll have to ride astride if you're to keep up with me."

"I can ride you into the ground." She smiled.

"And the draft?"

She opened the drawer to her desk and took out an envelope. "Perhaps you should wait to give it to her until we return. That will keep her here."

He set his lips. "I gave my word."

"Oh, well then, that's it." His mother laughed. "Your honor is a little too precious to you, sometimes." She handed him the envelope with the draft.

He smiled tightly and turned on his heel. Not too precious. He'd just lied to his mother. He stalked out of the room and shut the doors carefully behind him. He handed the draft to the first footman he saw. "Give this to Miss Sheridan, with my compliments.

And you," he called to another, "order my horse up from the stables."

He was for Ravenna tonight, now, before his mother expected him to go. Only then could he leave without her. He'd take the jewel to Mirso by sea. He tried to keep his mind on his plans, but they kept darting to the fact that Rubius, the Eldest, had killed the other firebrand. Maybe Rubius had hoped Gian would be killed in Algiers. Was that why he had sent so few to defend it against Asharti's hordes? Mirso did have dungeons. Plenty of them. And Elyta might well be in league with Rubius. Everyone knew he was besotted with her. Who said Rubius would keep the stone from doing damage? Might he not want it for himself? It would make a powerful weapon against other vampires. G.o.d, but he was getting as cynical as Kate.

Kate thought the stone wanted to return to the desert. Stranger things had happened lately than stones wanting things. And if anyone would know what the stone wanted, it would be Kate. She seemed incredibly sensitive to forces unseen.