A loud swoosh broke into her thoughts. Flapping wings crossed the corner of her vision. As she turned, a large bird alit on the fence, not yards from her. A queer bird indeed: squat and broad, like something out of a cartoon. It folded its wide wings against its back and watched her, looking her straight in the eye. That was her imagination. No wild creature met a human's eye without taking flight or freezing; this bird just fluffed its chest feathers, met her eyes once again, preened itself for a few minutes, and then took off in the direction of Whitby as if pursued by the furies. She watched it disappear to a black dot on the horizon and then noticed the mist coming from the sea. A fret!

She didn't have time to go back. She'd press on and walk through it. If only she'd tucked a raincoat or a parka in the backpack. It didn't help that the fret seemed to hasten dusk-she'd reckoned on a couple more hours of daylight.

"Kit! Wake up! Kit!"

Justin's voice sifted through his deep rest. The urgency cutting through his drowsiness. His eyes flickered open as he willed his comatose body to move. If Justin said "Wake," he'd wake. His legs felt leaden, but he sat up, flexing his hands and arms. "Old friend, what is it?" He tried to move his toes but that needed more time.

"Rouse yourself. Dixie-"

"What?" Feeling returned to his arms as he clutched Justin's arm. He cast his still-drowsy mind abroad, but found no trace of her. "What do you mean? She's not here anymore."

"I know that! She's walking back along the cliffs and Caughleigh is here."

Strength returned to his legs in a rush of cold panic. "What has he done?"

"Nothing, as yet. I believe three of us can foil him."

"Three?"

"Tom's here, too."

Kit stood, still a little wobbly, but his old friend made a good prop. "d.a.m.n this. If I'd known, I'd never had taken deep rest, but I wanted as much strength as possible for tonight."

"You'll be glad of it before we're through," Justin replied.

"Where is the b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

"In the car park, the last I saw him. Peering through binoculars at the cliff path with a particularly nasty look in his eyes.

Watching for Dixie, I imagine. I doubt he's planning on meeting her for a drink."

"He's going to kill her! The bomb failed, so this time he's doing the job himself!"

"Correction," Justin said, his voice quiet but insistent as sunlight. "He's planning to kill her. If three vampires can't thwart one puny mortal..." "We might as well stake ourselves out in the sunrise!"

Even in the gloom, Christopher saw Justin wince. With good reason, he knew. He'd never forget the smell of his own frying flesh. Caughleigh owed him and tonight he'd collect. "Chiropterans?" he asked.

Justin shook his head. "Bats will be too conspicuous. It's not yet dusk. You needn't worry about the sun, a thick fret covers most of the coast. I've managed nicely as a puffin."

Christopher nodded. Not what he'd have chosen, but he'd defer to Justin's twelve-hundred-year advantage.

Sebastian tossed his jacket and tie in the trunk, rolled up his sleeves and unb.u.t.toned his collar. Hardly rambling wear, but what the heck? This was business, after all. Consigning his hand-sewn shoes to destruction, he set off along the cliff path.

He stopped every so often to scan the path ahead with his binoculars. He sighted cows, sea birds and the occasional human, but no Dixie. He began to suspect "Sir" of prevarication. And what about the old biddy in the hotel? What did she know? If he ruined a good pair of shoes for nothing...

A couple in khaki shorts and hiking boots came into view. They wore backpacks, carried hiking poles, and had sweaters knotted round their waists. "Afternoon," they said as they approached.

"Excuse me," Sebastian said, "I'm looking for my wife. She set off along this path this morning and I hope to catch up with her.

I wondered if you saw her."

They listened with attentive smiles as he described his putative wife. "Eh, I think we saw the la.s.s. Has an American accent, does she?" the woman asked.

Pay dirt! "Yes, that would be her." His heart sped up at the prospect. They'd seen her. They had to have.

"We met her arriving just as we left, oh about ten, fifteen minutes out of Robin Hood's Bay. She's a little while behind us," the man added.

Sebastian faced a long hike. Spurred on by the prospect of success, he tramped on, detouring round brambles and sc.r.a.ping his shoes on rocks. Crossing a stile, he stepped without looking, then swore as he pulled his foot out of a cow pancake. He'd get new shoes and socks after this little venture.

Sebastian ran out of profanities. He tried inventing a few. It helped, but didn't raise visibility or ease the damp that clung under his s.h.i.+rt and plastered his hair to his head. Now he knew why he'd never been to Yorks.h.i.+re before. The b.l.o.o.d.y weather. But he only needed a couple more hours and he'd be out of this G.o.dforsaken backwater never to return. He trudged on, staying close to the fence on his right, where there was one, dreading the drop to the left. He lost track of time, even debated dumping the binoculars that hung like a lead albatross about his neck. But if the mist cleared...

Then a dark silhouette appeared through the mist. Hope rose. This might be his big chance.

Dixie veered to her left as much as she could, preferring cow pats and brambles to thin air. Fret was a darn good name because that's exactly what you did when stuck in one. The next stile she reached, she'd just sit on until the fret cleared... but instead of clearing, it thickened. She brushed damp hair off her face, s.h.i.+fted her backpack to ease the pull, and trudged on. So much for Mrs. Thirlwood's lovely walk! Dixie grunted in disgust. Lovely walk, indeed. This was murder. She noticed a dark shape approaching through the fret.

"h.e.l.lo," she called, raising her voice to penetrate the fog. No reply. He or she mustn't have heard. Fog did m.u.f.fle sound, after all. She shouted. "Hi! Terrible, isn't it? I'm not sure how much farther I have to go."The dark silhouette cleared the mist. Dixie registered horror, then panic, but stood rooted for three endless seconds while Sebastian said, "Not much farther at all," and grabbed both her arms just below the shoulder.

The pain of his fingers pressing into her flesh, and a glance at those eyes etched with hate broke her trance. She screamed, only to hear her yells echo back to her in the fog. She jerked and kicked as his hands closed tighter and her feet slid towards the edge.

"Sorry you can't stay," he hissed at her.

Was it mist or spittle that hit her face? She didn't give a d.a.m.n Not now Twisting, she raised her right knee at his groin, but he moved faster His right leg caught hers and swept her left one so she lost her balance As she fell backwards, he swung her towards the edge Gorse and brambles scratched her ankles Her feet dangled in the air as she raised her forearms to claw his face, scratch his eyes Her heart raced and sweat poured down her face.

She kicked out, trying to get his s.h.i.+ns, his knees, solid earth, anything One toe caught a root, a trunk, something firm A flash of hope burst, then quickly died as the other foot reached out to s.p.a.ce He tipped her backwards The weight of her backpack dragged her shoulders down Her neck snapped back Her legs swung up as dark shapes twisted and turned in her swirling line of vision and cold rose to greet her.

She screamed, but the force of rising air choked her as she dropped. The cliff face came to meet her and she bounced off Pam in her hip and leg wrenched another scream. This one echoed up as she fell The fret cleared, waves soared and crashed against wet, dark rocks. Salt spray stung her eyes.

Death waited among the rocks and sea spray.

Christopher heard the scream echoing off the cliffs and dived, his wings widespread His eyes, better suited to sighting fish in the waves than falling humans in the mist, scoured the water and the rocks The scream stopped and misty silence suffocated his hopes. He plunged, ready to fight rocks and waves to find her With Justin at his tail, they scoured the coast, darting into each cove and inlet. She had to be close. Sounds carried little distance in the fret.

There she was, splayed on the slippery rocks like a broken doll, her limbs twisted, her skin scored by the rocks, and her auburn hair plastered over the off-center nose Without realizing it, he resumed human form, his eyes blinded from spray and tears as he gathered her in his arms Against all odds, she still breathed Shallow breaths rasped behind broken ribs and her weakened pulse flickered like the embers of a dying fire. Her lifeblood drained like the dying strains of a symphony, but still her stubborn heart pumped.

On the gray fringes of his consciousness, he heard screams-violent, anguished cries-and imagined them the echoes of his tortured heart. He'd blocked her out last night after she'd crossed the country to find him, and now he'd come to her too late.

Justin alit by his shoulder. He still retained his puffin shape but their minds melded. "I'll go and find a phone box to summon the lifeboat. Wait with her," Justin paused. "If she dies, she's yours."

Light, warmth, and hope rose in his heart and crashed in his mind. The true torture of immortality snared him, crus.h.i.+ng hope as surely as the serpent crushed its prey. He possessed the key to immortality but custom forbade its use, unless she died first. He had to watch the woman he loved suffer and bleed. Would he pray for her rescue and recovery so she could live? Or wish for her death so he'd possess her? Would she welcome the dark gift? She'd spoken of transformation, but lightly. She had no notion of the reality.

He'd woken in shock from his own transformation, in Justin's arms, to find he'd defied death. It had taken him years to come to terms with twilight and shadows before he gained enough strength to face the sunlight. Dixie was a child of suns.h.i.+ne, born in the Southern warmth. Could she live in the world of darkness? And if she lived, would she welcome him into her world? He'd gladly have abandoned his friends, his culture and his world for her, but did she want their life?Sebastian waited, a satisfied smile curling his mouth as the screams died. He'd done it! Taken care of LePage. Sooner or later the tide would wash her up. He wondered how long it would take until that Corvus chap would contact him about settling the estate. He might just do it at cut rates.

Then something attacked. Flailing wings echoed in his ears and claws raked the back of his neck. His arms lashed out in pain, trying to dislodge the creature. It evaded his arms, then reattacked, this time diving at him like a demented kamikaze pilot.

From the corner of a half-closed eye, he recognized it as a bat. What in the name of h.e.l.l? Bats avoided humans. This one had him singled out. He lashed out at it with his binoculars, the only weapon at hand. For a few moments he succeeded, then they slipped from his grasp and claws raked his face as leathery wings batted his eyes and nose.

He screamed, raising his hands to protect his face, so his fingers and palms took the punishment and blood ran down his wrists.

He tripped on a tuffet of gra.s.s and fell on his face. He stopped screaming after he realized his winged a.s.sailant had gone. He was facedown on rough gra.s.s and he smelled blood. His own.

Remembering the sheer drop just feet away, he staggered inland. The mist cleared. He staggered across the fields towards the road, reaching it minutes ahead of a milk tanker. Sebastian stood in its path, waving his arms and shouting, his voice hoa.r.s.e with panic and exhaustion.

"Trouble, mate?" the driver asked. His jaw dropped as he looked Sebastian up and down. "Been in a fight, then?"

Sebastian gasped for breath. His chest ached from running. Pain rose from his diaphragm. "I was attacked. By a bat."

The man chuckled. "Thought it was aliens at the very least." But he jumped down from his cab and hauled Sebastian up, first covering the seat with a blanket and then wrapping another round Sebastian. "Might be in shock. Get you to hospital then, mate." He picked up his radio.

Sebastian leaned back against the seat, glad of the rough blankets after the chill air. In the failing light, his hands and arms welled blood from deep scratches. His soiled and ripped s.h.i.+rt hung from his shoulders and at some time, he'd landed on his knees in a cow pancake. On reflection, he decided the price had been cheap.

Tom coasted to a rock just inches away, still in bat form. "She's gone?" his mind asked.

"Not yet."

"I wish I'd thought to a.s.sume another form. I took care of her a.s.sailant, but if I'd planned better, I'd be a buzzard or kite and scar him permanently. These wings and claws lack real strength, but I marked him. Better than that Hitchc.o.c.k film. He'll fear bats for the rest of his life."

"She's dying, Tom." Acid tore into his heart at the thought.

"Then you must watch until she does and transform her."

Tom was right, but his vestiges of humanity made him pray for recovery. Who could wish death on the one they loved?

They watched together, as they'd shared pots of ale in the taverns of Southwark, intoxicated this time with despair, not ale and politics. Christopher fancied her breathing slowed, but still her indomitable heart refused to quit. She never opened her eyes.

How he longed to see the sparkle in the green again, but all his will and power couldn't open her cold, blue lids.

Justin returned. "Help's coming. Just yards away. The lifeboat from Whitby. I followed it, directing the helmsman. He'll never know how he set his course. There's a rescue helicopter not far behind."

Now the mortal world would reclaim her. Maybe."Kit, you have to leave her, for now. We'll watch together then follow her."

They watched, clinging to the cliffs like the wild creatures they were. A helicopter arrived, its rotors cutting the fret that now threatened to clear and leave them exposed to sight. Christopher marveled as mere mortals defied the rocks and the waves to strap his love to a board and hoist her up to the helicopter and safety. The emergency crew never noticed the winged escort that accompanied them to the landing pad at the hospital.

"Well, lad, what happened to you?" The duty sister in Emergency eyed Sebastian, her eyes wide in her dark face. "Had an argument with someone, did you then?"

"A bat," he replied, wincing as he spoke.

"A bat? That must have been some game. Your team lose then? And what else did he use? A sharp knife?"

"Not a cricket bat. A ruddy flying bat. The demented animal went for me on the cliffs."

Cool fingers touched his forehead. "The eye looks nasty, better clean you up and see what we have."

Back in a small curtained alcove, a nurse disposed of his tattered clothes and sponged off the blood with antiseptic that felt like it had just come out of the refrigerator.

She tucked a pair of rough blankets around him. "I'll try to find you a cup of tea," she said. "You've got a long wait, I'm afraid.

Your injuries might be painful but aren't serious, and we had an emergency come in a little while ago. A young woman fell off the cliffs near Whitby. She's in a bad way. Doesn't look as if she'll make it." She paused to smooth the blankets and settle a couple of pillows under his head. "Must have been somewhere near where you got hurt."

Sebastian smiled through his pain. He'd gladly wait until dawn for a doctor. Dixie's demise was a worthy cause. He just hoped they wouldn't try too hard.

The tea wasn't exactly Earl Grey, but it was warm and wet. The dregs were long cold before the nurse came back. "Doctor will be in to see you soon," she said. "Sorry about the wait. It's been rough." She paused, her dark eyes tired. "She didn't make it, the young woman, I mean."

The nurse turned, probably to hide her tears. It saved him the problem of concealing his glee.

Chapter Fourteen.

"She's gone." The pink-faced doctor shook his head at the tired-looking nurses. "Unhook her. I'll see to the paperwork before morning. They may want an inquest."

Christopher waited until the door closed behind them, then planted one leg over the sill and pulled himself into the darkened room. He was at Dixie's bedside before Tom and Justin followed, three night creatures on a mission of salvation. Christopher turned to Justin for guidance.

"Concentrate," Justin told him. "You've done this before and your bond is already half-forged, but you must concentrate. There is no time for bungling."

Previous Top Next"Bungling!" He'd done more than enough of that, and each time Dixie had paid. He hadn't been this scared in Newgate Gaol.

But the very existence of the woman he loved hadn't hung in the balance then.

Justin's hand grasped his shoulder. "Now." Christopher nodded. He owed her this.

Justin turned to Tom. "Hold the door, against everything and everyone. I don't care if it's an earthquake or tornado."

"In Yorks.h.i.+re?" Tom asked with a twist of his mouth.

"Seal it!"

Tom nodded. "Will do! Good luck, Kit." The door locked.

Christopher's hand shook as he pulled back the sheet. How different from the night he'd lain with her between the sheets in the moonlight. If he succeeded, they'd have moonlight for eternity, and if he failed... He wouldn't fail. He couldn't. At the sight of her bruised face, he hissed. Livid marks and blood streaked down her face and neck. The scar on her breast, a thin red streak, seemed lost among the contusions and cuts. "Sweet heaven," he muttered, "I'll kill him for this."

"Forget him!" Justin soothed. "She's been dead ten minutes. Don't waste any more time. Open her neck."

Christopher stroked the cooling flesh to find a vein. She'd have the cleanest, neatest bite that he knew how to give. Sliding an arm under her shoulders, he raised her off the pillows until her head lolled back and her neck stretched to its fullest, offering sweet white skin. He glanced at Justin. A smile and a nod encouraged him. He bent his head to her neck.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Justin's hand rest below her left breast. "Put your spare hand next to mine to measure the pressure as her blood flows through her heart."

His fingers rested beside Justin's. Last time, her breast molded warm under his fingers. Now cooling flesh greeted his embrace, but soon... His fangs rose and pierced her skin. The sweet metallic taste of human blood filled his mouth and bathed his throat.

He sucked and gulped, remembering Justin's warnings about time. As the cooling blood flowed into him, his fingers measured the pump of her stilled heart. He paused after a few minutes, bloated and swollen.

"A little more, old friend," Justin urged. "You must drain deeper."

Deeper! His feet and ankles were swollen and his hands looked like bunches of bananas. Every cell in his body felt sodden, but if Dixie needed more taken, so be it.