"No. Gwyltha outages us all." His sharp eyes scanned her face. "You haven't met Gwyltha?"

"She will tonight." Christopher hadn't budged a millimeter from her side.

"Oh, surely..." Vlad never finished.

Three dark figures dropped from the sky behind him. One thing was for certain, you could host a vampire party in the city and never worry about parking problems. One she recognized as Justin. She'd know his broad shoulders anywhere. The other two were women. She quashed her surprise, chiding herself for s.e.xism. Of course, she wouldn't be the only vampiress in the world.

Why think so?

The shorter woman stepped forward. Or maybe the others stepped back. Instinctively, Dixie walked to meet her, half aware that Christopher stood behind her. She was tiny, dark-haired and plain. A little woman, with a power that hung over her like an aura.

Dixie held out her hand. "I'm Dixie..."

"Yes." Eyes that had lived met Dixie's. With eye contact like hers, she'd have it made in education or law enforcement. "I know. You're Dixie LePage. I'm Gwyltha." Dixie felt like a slide under a microscope. No, more like a specimen under the pathologist's probe. "So you're Christopher's addition to the colony. What will your contribution be?"

"I'm good at removing witch blades and rescuing dying vampires."She felt Christopher's tension behind her, and watched Gwyltha's eyes widen as her neck stiffened. "It's not much, I know, but it's a beginning."

Gwyltha nodded. A slow smile curled her mouth and softened her eyes. "A better beginning than most of us can boast." She took Dixie's hand between hers. "So, you saved what you didn't believe existed. Quite an accomplishment."

"It's called a leap of faith."

Gwyltha laughed. "And you, Kit Marlowe, think to hold her to you." She gathered Dixie to her in a hug that threatened to crack ribs. "Welcome," she whispered. "In this lonely world, we need all the intelligent companions we can find." Stepping back but still smiling, she looked around, and Dixie noticed four or five dark figures waiting in a semi-circle behind Gwyltha. "Since Justin's host, I'll let him do the honors."

Justin stepped forward. His eyes met Gwyltha's and Dixie almost gawked. Furnace blast might describe the heat between them. Justin tensed like a stalking panther.

Gwyltha's smile uncurled. Her back stiff as an oak beam, her slim hand clenched among the folds of her black silk skirt, she inclined her head. "Introduce her, Justin. Everyone's waiting."

Dixie watched Justin hesitate, just long enough to tense his shoulders, flex his fingers, and smile. "I think not." Justin's reply drew a sharp stare from Gwyltha. "She's Christopher's. He'll introduce her."

They both stepped back, like combatants returning to their corners. Dixie and Christopher stood alone inside the circle of dark figures in the twilight. "Take it easy." Christopher smiled at her. "They're just old friends."

That adjective took on new meaning in a gathering like this.

Vampire introductions involved shaking hands, smiling and remembering names-just like mortal introductions. She did better on the first two. Some names she remembered-the second woman, Antonia, had said, "Call me Toni," but most of the men merged into each other. Quiet figures in black don't stand out too well. Maybe that was their intent.

One man's voice, deep and gravelly, she thought she recognized from the radio. Then Christopher introduced him as Rod McLean. "Of Midnight Spin?" she said.

"You listen?" He grinned like a pleased child at her recognition.

"I used to. Just haven't the past few nights."

"So, Christopher's depleting my audience. Can't have you doing that, old man."

"She's too busy listening to me," Christopher replied.

She missed the next two names, thinking how she hadn't listened to the radio, seen the TV or a newspaper since she'd been isolated. She was getting out of touch. Or was it in touch with a different world?

Simon someone or other's name she caught, a short, bald man with twinkling eyes and a slow smile, and Toby Wise, very tall, very black, and with an accent that Dixie, by now, recognized as pure Oxbridge. An immense man with the build of a stevedore answered to John Littlewood. "Call me Little John. Everyone else does."

Introductions over, everyone wandered indoors, drank Dixie's health with a ruby port they sipped from Waterford gla.s.ses, and then settled into groups around the house. It reminded Dixie of a high school reunion, everyone watching each other-the only difference being they also watched her.

"It's nice to welcome a compatriot to the colony."Dixie knew she was staring at Toby, but a line like that excused it. "You're an American?"

"Technically. I left in 1863. At the time, I wasn't afforded protection of citizens.h.i.+p."

He wouldn't have been. "You took a risk leaving then."

"I thought staying a greater one. I stowed away on a blockade runner in Charleston harbor and ended up in Liverpool."

"What did you do about soil?" The things you talk about with vampires.

"I wasn't transformed for another 20 years. Then my mentor stole dirt from the Chancery garden in Victoria Street. I don't think Amba.s.sador Page ever missed it."

"Pilfering seems to be a way of survival. Mine filched earth from Runnymeade."

"We all do-in an emergency. Every so often you'll see letters in The Times lamenting vandalism at the monument."

"We?"

He nodded. "There are half a dozen of us. When Kit lets you off the leash, I'll introduce you."

She wasn't on anybody's leash. "I'll come any time you invite me."

He smiled. Halfway. "In that case, if..."

"Not yet, Toby." Polite as a courtier, Christopher smiled. His eyes suggested dismemberment or castration. His hand slipped round Dixie's waist.

Dixie stepped sideways. "I'd love to meet them," she said to Toby and then turned to cross the room. The front door stood open. Evening air might cool her temper.

Vlad and Gwyltha stood away from the front door. They weren't discussing poetry. Gwyltha pulled herself from Vlad's arms.

"h.e.l.lo, fledgling. Come out to say goodbye?"

"I didn't know you were leaving. I needed fresh air."

Vlad nodded. "Our young friend stays close."

"He's not that much younger than you!" Gwyltha said.

"But he still possesses youth's illusions, whereas I am a cynical old bloodsucker." He smiled at Gwyltha. "Lady, let's say goodbye to the fledgling and go feed."

"Oh!" Dixie's throat clamped shut at the thought of their dinner.

Vlad smiled. Slowly. "We are traditionalists. Are you?"

She'd tell him, if she understood the question.

"She's not fed yet." Gwyltha said.

Vlad stared from one to the other. Surprise shone in his eyes as he shook his head. "And she's met so many of us. Before you're sure of her?""We're sure of her," Gwyltha replied. Dixie wished she could follow this conversation. "We're confusing you, fledgling. Not to worry, Kit has a lot of explaining still to do."

She could say that again.

Gwyltha hugged her with the same fervor she'd shown earlier. "Welcome again, Dixie. We'll meet soon."

Vlad offered his hand. "If I embraced you, Kit Marlowe would throw fire in my direction."

"I love Christopher, but he doesn't own me." What would it take to convince the lot of them that in this day and age women stood on their own two feet?

Gwyltha took both her hands and clasped them. "You'll understand, in time. You are his. Nothing will ever change that."

With a sharp whoosh, like wind through an open door, they took off. Dixie's skirts flapped around her legs in the back draft as she watched them disappear high into the heavens.

Justin waited by the open door, jaw clenched and brows meeting. "They left?" he growled. Dark eyes stared up at the night sky. "I love her, Dixie. She loved me once. That's why she transformed me after the arrow took me down. I wanted to keep her close. Make her mine. Own her soul. But she left me."

"She probably needed breathing room. Women get antsy over possessiveness and jealousy." Had he even heard her? Without another word, he launched himself into the sky. At least he went east. If he met the other two, they'd probably start a thunderstorm.

She heard a whoosh from the back door as she came back in. Another departure. Only Tom and Toby remained with Christopher and Antonia, the other woman. She was as short as Gwyltha, but prettier, and where Gwyltha exuded power, Antonia's eyes gleamed with intelligence and curiosity. Dixie wished she'd had more time to get to know her, perhaps later. She could hardly suggest lunch!

They stood in the open doorway. Antonia waved. "Welcome again, Dixie! We'll meet soon, I hope!" she called and shot off into the night. With a nod, Toby and Tom followed.

"I wish I could do that," Dixie said, not turning around.

"You will." Christopher came up behind her. "In time. It takes considerable reserves of strength."

"And strength comes from feeding?" she asked, then paused. "Why haven't I, and what will happen if I don't?"

"Vlad," he hissed the name. "I knew Justin shouldn't have asked him. What did he say?"

"It was more Gwyltha than Vlad, I think. You haven't told me everything."

"We've had four nights. Hardly time enough to share all our secrets." Fair enough, but surely feeding was rather fundamental.

He shut the door, crossed to the front door to pull that to, and then started to close windows.

"Christopher. I want to talk."

He stopped, hand on the latch, without turning around. "Can't it wait until we're upstairs?"

No, because once they were in bed, all she'd think about was his body and what it did to her. "Now. You owe me some answers."

Chapter Seventeen.

Christopher turned, his eyes dark with an emotion she couldn't quite read. "You want answers, fire away."

She clenched, then consciously unclenched, her hands, and looked him square in his troubled eye. "I'd like you to explain about feeding."

His shoulders relaxed. "That's all?" He smiled.

Dixie bit back a scream. He thought it trivial? "It's the first thing."

Wariness creased a double furrow between his eyes. "The first, eh?" He ran his hand through his hair and then shook his head as if clearing his mind. "If that's where you want to begin..." She did. "You know how we feed-popular fiction has that right.

We drink blood-human mostly, mammal for preference, and, as you guessed, any animal serves in a pinch. Fresh blood gives the most strength, and many prefer the taste."

She suppressed a shudder. There had to be another way.

"Some of us have ideological problems with live feeding and feed off animals, or use blood bags exclusively, others use them occasionally for convenience." He glanced at her, his brow wrinkled with worry. "You've noticed the supply in the kitchen."

She had. The dark, wobbly bags gave her the creeps, and when they squished under her hand she wanted to barf. "I stocked up so I don't have to leave you to hunt. One way or the other, we need blood. Regularly. Once, maybe twice a week. If we don't feed, we weaken."

"And die?"

"Not that easily. A full-blooded vampire can starve for several years but we lose strength. Get slower. Become hypersensitive to light and lose our abilities to fly and transmogrify."

"Yes. Transmogrify. What is that, exactly?"

"Changing shape. Becoming the bats and other animals that populate horror stories."

She wasn't having this conversation. She hadn't spent the evening with a houseful of vampires. Any minute she'd wake up and find herself in her bra.s.s bed, looking at the hairline cracks in the ceiling, the faded violets in the wallpaper, and the sunlight dancing off the mirror of her mahogany dresser. Except she was vampire and would never see her reflection again. She choked back dry heaves rising deep inside. Her shoulders shook and her stomach clenched as she fought the rising nausea and the dizziness that swirled around.

"Dixie!" Christopher's voice came faint, m.u.f.fled as if by fog or distance. His arms wrapped comfort around her as she battled the nightmare images. "It's okay," he whispered into her hair. It was while he held her, but she couldn't spend the rest of eternity in his arms.

One arm held her securely against the comfort of his chest. "Don't let it bother you," he whispered into her hair. She looked up at the brown eye, soft with worry... for her. "You don't have to worry about that. Yet."

Previous Top NextYet. Hadn't he said vampires could starve themselves for years without worry? His arms met around her, clasping her tightly as she pressed herself against him, wanting, needing just some of his strength. His power seeped into her heart and mind. She felt his will behind the warmth and courage that filled her. The love in the fingers that stroked and slid through her hair. The heat of his body pressed against hers. But she didn't have all her answers. Yet.

Haifa step backwards and his arms still held. Tight. She loved Kit Marlowe and wanted eternity with him. Even if she had to drink blood. She'd worry about that later. Much later. "You said vampires, we, can starve for years. Right?"

"Fully-blooded vampires can."

She didn't completely understand, but knew it wasn't good news. "I'm not fully-blooded?"

"You're a fledgling, darling."

That term again. She'd heard it often enough the past few days and thought it meant something like "pledge" for a sorority.

"What does that mean?" Did she really want to know? She had to.

He hesitated. "What does 'fledgling' mean in the way you've always known it?"