It wasn't the first time Nicholas had been in Dina's apartment. They'd only dated a few times before the debacle of the Halloween party, but he'd been here once or twice to pick her up, had sat on her couch and admired the watercolors hung over the faux fireplace, the display of jewelry on the coffee table. She'd designed the pieces herself, and sold others like them in Lorelei's boutique.

He sat there now, watching the lamplight glint off a pair of dangly gold and turquoise earrings, while Dina rummaged in the kitchen.

"I should be hungry," she said. "I haven't eaten in ages.

But nothing looks good."

"That protein drink can be filling." It had actually been plasma, but he didn't think she needed to know that right now.

He hadn't been sure it would help, but he'd figured it was worth a shot.

She took a bottle of designer water from the fridge and opened it, sipped carefully. He straightened, alarmed. She smiled and drank a little more.

"There. That tastes fantastic."

That surprised him. Vampires couldn't drink water-it made them violently ill. But Dina wasn't a vampire. He wasn't sure what she was.

Walking dead, some nasty part of his mind said. He blocked it off viciously.

"I should call Lorelei," Dina said, then looked at the clock.

"d.a.m.n, it's past midnight."

"She'll be sleeping," said Nicholas. Lorelei had seen what had happened Halloween night. He didn't want Dina reminded of that right now.

"Maybe not. Plus she'll be wondering what happened to me." Dina picked up the phone. Nicholas watched, tense, as she dialed the number. But after a few moments, she hung up.

"No answer. I'll try later." 77 Hiding relief, he leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch. He felt sick. He hadn't fed last night, and his blood cried for replenishment. He'd have to slip out and find someone he could leech for a pint or three.

She sat next to him on the couch and sipped her water.

"Can I get you something?"

"No, thanks. I'm going to have to leave soon, anyway."

"That's too bad. I'd hoped we could talk."

"About what?"

"You still haven't told me what happened at the party."

"Yes, I did."

"Not in any detail. I want to know who did this and why."

She brushed her fingers over her battered throat, wincing.

"Apparently Vivian didn't screen the guests as well as she normally does. We don't usually have this kind of incident."

Usually the victims just die.

"I guess weird parties attract weird people. Do you know who it was?"

"Somebody who wandered in off the street. He ran off."

The lies came easily. He'd become used to lying over the last three years. He supposed it got even easier after a century or so. He couldn't imagine keeping this up for hundreds of years, like Vivian. He stood, looking down into Dina's surprised expression. "I need to go. I can come back in a couple of hours if you want me to."

"Would you please?"

He nodded and left before he could change his mind.

Alone in her small apartment, Dina closed her eyes and fought a sudden wave of despair. She thought she'd gotten used to the awful, lurking knowledge that had haunted her for the past five years, but every once in a while it staged a sneak attack. The strange events of the last couple of days had undoubtedly precipitated this one.

She curled her feet under her and sipped her gla.s.s of water.

She should be hungry, but the thought of food turned her stomach. With the aching sense of loss chewing at her soul, she turned on the TV in an attempt to chase it away.

*** 78.

On the streets of New York City, if you took the time to look, you could always find someone who deserved to die.

Nicholas followed the smell of fear. There was a great deal of it in the air, but he could sift through the threads and search out one of them even through the miasma of the city. This thread belonged to a child, and smelled like impending death.

It was easy enough for Nicholas to slip into the building, and he made it just in time, just before the blow that would have sent the boy into unconsciousness.

"Run," he said to the child, putting compulsion in it. "Tell someone what happened."

The boy ran, blood running from his nose, his eye swelling shut. Nicholas' vampiric ears heard the small footsteps patter down the hallway, heard the boy knock on a neighbor's door.

All while the father stared in horror and disbelief at the sudden intruder.

"You won't do this again," said Nicholas.

He attacked like a cobra, a lightning-quick strike that sank his fangs deep. He could make it easy-all vampires could- through use of compulsion, if he wanted to. He didn't want to.

He let this victim feel all the pain, all the terror, let him feel the darkness encroach as his heart slowed. Nicholas felt the approach of death, stopped just before it was too late.

"You might live," he said, feeling hot blood drip down his chin. "Or you might not. But this was your choice."

He left the man gibbering on the floor, undoubtedly wondering if the blood would ever stop flowing from the wound in his throat, or if the pool beneath him would simply grow and grow until there was nothing left in his body for his heart to pump. Nicholas knew the blood would stop. Agents in vampiric saliva worked to heal the wounds if the victim was left alive, to ensure another meal. Part of Vivian's training had involved learning to feed without killing. But he felt no obligation to inform his victim of this fact. Better to let him look death in the face for a while.

The fresh blood rushed through his system, making him dizzy. He'd gone without for too long. Stupid of him. But there'd been Dina to think of. He'd gotten by on the plasma drink 79 yesterday, but it was never enough, like a human eating sugar when the body craved protein.

He went back to her apartment building and sat on the front stoop, waiting for his body to adjust. Sitting there listening to the too-fast rush of his own blood, waiting for it to slow to a normal rate, he thought. About Dina.

Feeding tonight had been good, but even hungry as he'd been, he'd been able to choose his victim, to control his feeding so he could stop short of killing. Why hadn't he been able to do that with Dina? The compulsion had been so intense, so uncontrollable- He hadn't experienced anything like it since his first few days of vampirism, before Vivian had taught him control.

He understood that most vampires couldn't achieve that control. Even Vivian wasn't sure why she and her "children"

could while others couldn't. But to have the control and lose it-and then to face the aftermath, the return of the victim- why did this happen to him? There had to be an explanation.

Dina had a right to know, he thought suddenly. She had at best two weeks to live before the blood in her body died, and she died with it. She also had a right to know why. He owed her the truth. And if she hated him, if she demanded some sort of retribution, well, he owed her that, too.

He slipped silently in through her apartment window, to wash his face in her sink. Surprised she hadn't heard the water running, he went back out and came into the building the right way, stopping to knock on her door.

She opened the door, looking bleary. The TV droned in the background, voices overlaying a strained laugh track.

"I didn't think you'd come back," she said. She stood to one side, letting him come in.

"I said I would, didn't I?"

She nodded.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She looked like she'd been sleeping, but surely not. She'd spent all day asleep, the victim of his compulsion and the transformation of her remaining blood.

"TV makes me brain dead."

It was more than that, though. Her eyes looked haunted. 80 Did she know?

He sat on the soft couch and looked up at her. After a small hesitation, she sat next to him and turned down the volume on the TV.

"I wish I could talk to Lorelei," she said. "She's got to be wondering where I am."

"She's not home. You can't do anything about that."

"I don't understand why she wouldn't be at home in the middle of the night."

"Maybe she went home with someone."

"Maybe she was attacked, too."

He looked away. Lorelei had been attacked. He'd done it himself, and probably would have finished her if Julian hadn't intervened. Or maybe not. The compulsion had been fading when he'd gone for her. He could have stopped himself. With her, he could have stopped himself.

"You can try her again in the morning," he suggested, knowing full well Dina wouldn't be conscious after sunrise.

"I'm sure she's fine."

She nodded, but didn't look convinced. She fiddled with the remote control, changing channels and toying with the volume.

"Dina . . ." She looked toward him, brows lifted in a question.

"Dina, I have to tell you something."

"What?" She sounded drained, wearier than she had when she'd first awakened from death. "What is it?"

"Dina . . ." He swallowed, still tasting blood in the back of his throat. "Dina, you're dying."

She looked at him placidly, a small smile curving her lips and a horrible weight of sadness in her eyes. "Yes," she said.

"How did you know?" 81

FOUR.

He stared. He'd intended to say more, but her words had changed everything.

"Dina, I'm so sorry."

Her eyes had changed between her words and his. The open, vulnerable sadness had been replaced by a shuttered look.

She was protecting herself. From what?

"It's okay," she said, her voice brittle. "I understand how hard it is to be around me. It's been fun. Have a nice life."

"I don't-" He stopped. He wasn't sure what to say, didn't know where she thought the conversation was going. Gently, he lifted her hand in his. "That's not what I meant."

"It doesn't matter. I don't know how you found out, but now that you know, you might as well leave. I don't need to be abandoned again. At this point I'm not sure I even like you, so just go."

"Someone else left you."

Her eyes changed again, the shutters trying to open. The pain behind them was almost more than he could bear. Dina swallowed hard and nodded.

"Then he was a p.r.i.c.k."

She let out a strange laugh, almost a sob. "Yes, he was."

"So am I. But I'm not going to leave."

She turned her face away, too late to hide the tears from him. "You should, Nick. You really should."

"They said at first it should be treatable. I had the chemo, I had a mastectomy, radiation-but it came back. More chemo, another mastectomy. And then they found more in my leg, in the bone."

She stopped. She'd stopped several times during her near- monologue, and Nicholas had waited, silent, until she was ready to go on. Outside, morning approached, and he could feel the weariness encroaching. Dina rubbed her eyes. "I'm so tired."

Shaking her head, she continued. "I'm supposed to see the doctor again for some kind of a prognosis. There's not much 82 chance it'll be good. The party was sort of a last hurrah."

"When?"

"Tuesday."