"Oh, really?"

Emily looked down at her hands. Her index finger twisted in and out of a b.u.t.tonhole. "You may not believe this, being American and modern and all. But Christopher was vermin, a vampire. We destroyed him for the good of the village."

Choking Emily wouldn't help her to get to Sebastian-besides, that was old toast. "Tell him you saw me. No, that might warn him. Tell him the police just came by, asking a lot of questions about his movements last week." That should worry him nicely.

"I don't know. Maybe in the morning. If I call him now, he won't be happy."

Let him start unhappy. By the time she finished, he'd be miserable. "Remember Valerie on his desk."

"It was her desk," Emily hissed and picked up the receiver.

Emily was wasted in the bank. She should have been on the stage. She sounded suitably panic-stricken and wound up, but maybe the latter was anger. "I've got to come... Now... No, I'm not staying the night and wouldn't if you asked... I just need to know what to do if the police come again... Yes, I know it's after midnight. That didn't stop them." And it wouldn't stop her.

Not now. She slammed the receiver down and grinned at Dixie. "That good enough for you?"Good enough for an Oscar, or a Sebastian.

"I should never have let her go. Why didn't one of us stop her?" Christopher paced hard and long enough to wear a faint trail in the rug.

Justin looked up from peering at the marble clock on the mantelpiece. "French, this, a very nice piece. My friend, stop fretting.

She wouldn't have been stopped, for one thing, and for another, she's strong enough to do this. Let her win her spurs."

Dixie didn't need spurs, she needed to be safe. "She shouldn't have gone. Why the h.e.l.l couldn't she just stay in Yorks.h.i.+re until things cooled down?" Because that wasn't her way. Because his woman made her own justice and drove him crazy with worry while she did it.

"The only way you'll keep her is by letting her go. She's like quicksilver, Kit. Grasp her and she'll trickle out your fingers. Cup her in your hand and you'll hold her. I know." He should. Gwyltha, Annette during the Civil War, the governess in Brussels in 1815, Justin had lost them all.

Christopher shuddered. If he lost Dixie...

"She's just crossed the village green." Tom stood up and looked out the window over the night garden. "She'll be back any minute."

It took three and she was there, cheeks rosy from racing through the night air and eyes bright with excitement. "All systems go!"

She almost bounced. "We must hurry. She thinks I'm driving. I told her I'd wait ten minutes. She's opening the back door for me."

"And then?" Christopher wished he'd beaten Justin to the question.

"And then, I get his confession and call you three in. If need be, I'll call in Christopher first. The scare might do Sebastian good."

"Give him a heart attack, more like. Remember, dead men can't confess."

"He'll be alive, don't you worry." She paused as if beset by sudden doubt. "You'll be with me, right?"

"Forever, my love," Kit said. Not stopping himself, he kissed her full on her gorgeous lips.

Her eyes widened to emerald orbs. She swallowed, hard, as if smoothing a lump in her throat. She had to be nervous. Lord, he was, and she was the one going in alone. He shouldn't let her. No, he should. Justin was right. This was her chance to prove herself. If he loved her, he had to bite his tongue, clench his fists and let her go ahead. "I'm right behind you. Just lead the way and the rest of us will follow."

The door opened. "You there, Dixie?" Emily's heart raced with fear. Even her skin smelled scared. Why not? She was in the same house as a multiple murderer.

"Here."

"Come on in, I can't stand here all night. He thinks I'm in the loo."

That's all it took. A simple invitation and a step over the threshold. If only the rest went as smoothly. "Leave, Emily. Go."

She shook her head. "No. I'm staying to see him get his comeuppance."And three seconds ago she'd thought it was going well. She grasped Emily's shoulder. "Go, Emily." She felt the other woman's will waver, her resistance fade.

"Alright."

Power like this was scary. As Emily stepped out the door, Dixie reached out to her mind and filched the memory of the past half hour. A dazed Emily tottered down the path. Dixie trusted the others to see that she got in the car safely.

It took a moment to get her bearings. Three closed doors led off the front hall. Where was he? She paused a moment, and knew. She smelled human blood behind the nearest door. He sat with his back to her, wearing a dark green dressing gown and reclining in his desk chair like an emperor on a swivel throne. "You took your time." He didn't even turn his head. "Come on, on your knees, Emily."

"h.e.l.lo, Sebastian."

He turned. The bruises had faded but livid scars crisscrossed his face and neck. He gaped and with great effort hissed out the single syllable, "You!"

"Me," agreed Dixie and smiled, just to get his dander up.

Faster than he could reply, she grabbed his shoulders. "Please don't get up."

He winced. "What the h.e.l.l do you want? And how... ?" He paled to the color of sour milk. "You should be dead. The d.a.m.n nurse said you were."

"That's socialized medicine for you."

His eyes blinked, fast, as if trying to figure it all out. "You fell. I saw you drop." She bet he'd watched, gloating. She s.h.i.+fted his shoulders, letting the chair turn him, and grabbed his hands behind his back. "What in the name of blazes?"

"Just getting you settled." She had a pair of panty hose twined through the chair slats and twisted around his wrists before he figured out what was happening. "That'll do nicely."

He made a few nasty comments about her qualities as a woman. "I'm a client. You shouldn't talk to me like that. I pay your bills."

"You? Pay? You've cost me a small fortune."

"I'd like to talk about that."

He didn't talk, but his eyes widened as she ripped the other pair of panty hose in half. He kicked and twisted as she bound each leg to the chair, speaking unkindly about her father.

"Now that you're not going anywhere, we can cut to the chase." A portable tape recorder on his desk caught her eyes, but she realized she didn't need it and drew up an armchair opposite him.

"I like Bringham. Love my house, and I've had a really great time finding out about my ancestors. Did you know they kept journals?"

"Journals?" he snapped. "They won't stand up in court."

She ignored him. "Quite detailed ones. And records. File drawers full. Gran's sisters were nasty old ladies. Crime paid for them and you. Your file is a couple of inches thick.""Maundering and imaginings of a pair of senile old ladies." He gave her a glare.

She smirked, remembering how kids used to drive her crazy with an mane smile. "Uh-uh." She shook her head. "They've got a twenty-five-year dossier on you, starting with buying exam papers in school and photography commissions for my aunts They taught you a lot, and you repaid them by killing them-and a few others, including me." Let him take the hint.

He missed it. "You've got nothing Your aunts died of old age. The bomb came from a random terrorist act. The police are still looking for Marlowe for Vernon's death and you can't prove I was in Yorks.h.i.+re."

"Maybe I won't have to." That time she grinned. "Let's start with my aunts. Faith fell downstairs, just after you'd spent the evening there." Eyes as cold as obsidian stared through her. She went on "And Hope, the ditsy one, something scared her enough to run out of the house in the middle of a February night. Noises in the chimney? Rocks thrown against the house?

Lights that flashed on and off?"

Those eyes now stared from a face like putty. "What if I did kill the old bats? You can't prove anything."

"No problem." She reached over for the desk lamp "Now we get to Vernon." She flicked the lamp switch on and off.

"Trying the searchlight torture? Halogen lights to the retina?"

"Not that." She noticed his feet, bound to the chair legs, didn't touch the floor. Better fix that. "Must get you nicely settled Can't have you uncomfortable." She lowered the seat three notches, until his knees bent slightly, his feet flat against the floor, and picked up the lamp and unscrewed the bulb. "All set. Now, first tell me all about the bomb in my car."

"You'll have to try harder than that."

"Okay."

His scream echoed long after she took the empty socket off his finger. His eyes bulged and he babbled a string of curses as his breathing settled. He gasped for breath between profanities "You can't prove anything. And if you're recording this, it was made illegally, under duress. I can take legal action against you for this."

"My car, Stanley," she repeated and moved the lamp a half inch from his finger.

"James arranged it and you'll never prove I had anything to do with it."

Yeah, right Her heart might not beat, but her stomach still clenched in horror at his callous complacency No matter. She had to get answers. "Why?"

"What?" He actually looked perplexed.

"Why kill me? What had I ever done to you-other than turn you down?" His eyes flashed dark, like smoldering volcanic rock.

He spat at her. The sputum hit cold on her arm "Tell me or I'll need to use the lamp again-on a more sensitive protuberance."

The sheen on his forehead turned to beads of sweat He wrenched uselessly against his bonds. Brits made good panty hose.

"You're in the way and still are. Think you'll get away with this little game? I have the law on my side and forces more powerful than you can imagine. The only creature that could help you against me is dead. Frizzled up."

Time to contradict that later. "So you wanted my aunts' papers, their recipe books, and negatives and all that nasty stuff. Too bad, Sebastian, I burned it all."

"Fool," he hissed.

She watched his snarling mouth and blazing eyes and realized she was sharing the room with a madman Thank heavens the others were close. "Now, Vernon." She made a point of smiling Just to irritate him more.

"You're really worried about a crippled half-wit?"

Dixie moved the lamp towards his crotch. Her other hand went towards his belt buckle.

Sebastian spat at her but he talked. "James had breakfast with him and slipped something in his coffee. The rest was easy." He looked up at her; even now a sneer came easily to him. "We tied him up with gauze bandages, so as not to leave marks on the skin, and left him on Marlowe's bed. We had a timed incendiary device in the house. It took care of itself."

Easy for whom? She shuddered, thinking about Vernon lying for hours in Christopher's house, until finally burning to death.

"Getting sentimental?" He smiled on one side of his face. "Marlowe was dead by then. He burned too, you know?"

"Of course Christopher is dead." They stared at each other in the silent room. "Christopher is dead," she repeated and forgave herself a gloating smirk, "and so am I."

He gulped as if swallowing a toad. Whole. His eyes popped like a Pekingese. He sucked in air so hard, his gut clenched. The sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead trickled down his cheeks. Dixie smiled sweetly at him and walked across the room and threw up the wide sash. "Come in," she said and stood aside as three irate vampires stepped onto the Aubusson rug.

Sebastian now looked as if he had an alligator jammed in his innards. Justin and Tom stayed by the window, out of Sebastian's line of vision. Christopher didn't. Swinging a fine Sheraton chair in one hand, he planted it inches from Sebastian's knees and then straddled the seat, resting his forearms on the curved satinwood back. He could have reached out his laced fingers and touched Sebastian's face. Dixie sensed he made a conscious effort not to.

"Evening, Caughleigh. Or should I say good morning?" A glimmer of a wry smile fluttered on Christopher's lips. "Not exactly good for you either way, is it? Time to settle accounts."

"Monster! Fiend!" The words hissed out like spent bullets.

And had as much effect. "Too late, Caughleigh. It's my turn." Under Christopher's acid gaze, Sebastian wilted like a jellyfish in the sun. "No time to waste. You have a job to do. You're going to call our friend, Inspector Jones, and tell him the truth."

A mocking laugh strangled halfway up Sebastian's throat. He shook his head, turning away from Christopher's implacable eyes and mewling from between quivering lips.

Sebastian jerked as if shocked again, sweat trickling down his face as Dixie joined, by instinct, in a bombardment to twist Sebastian's will.

"You'll tell him the truth," Christopher said. No demand, not even a question, just a statement of fact.

Sebastian sagged, his slack face matching the droop of his shoulders. "I'll tell him the truth."

"Grab the phone, Dixie. There's a love. I think the Inspector will gladly lose a bit of sleep to hear what Caughleigh has to say."

She grabbed the phone and dialed 9-9-9. "This isn't an emergency," she said, "but I do have to speak to Inspector Jones right way, about the murder and arson in Bringham." She stayed on the line as requested and soon heard the brrr-brrr tone at the other end. She crossed over to Sebastian and obligingly held the receiver to his ear.

"What is it?"

Secure under vampire sway, Sebastian never faltered. "Inspector, this is Sebastian Caughleigh. I apologize for disturbing you, but I have some information for you about the recent events here in Bringham. I've been quite involved."Jones's interest vibrated down the phone. "I'll be over with a sergeant and a squad car."

"No. I'd prefer to meet you at the station."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." The line went dead and Sebastian stared at the phone as if dazed.

Christopher broke the bonds round Sebastian's ankles and wrists. "Hit the road, Caughleigh. Wouldn't do to keep the good inspector waiting. Grab your keys and go." He pulled Sebastian to his feet and shoved him towards the door.

Pausing only to grab his keys from the desk drawer, Sebastian walked out of the room and across the hall to where his car waited by the front door. As he drove off, Dixie noticed a dark shape on the trunk and realized only three of them stood on the gravel drive.

"Tom's going to keep Caughleigh safe," Christopher replied to her unspoken question. "Wouldn't do to have him hit by a lorry.

Not on the way there."

"Shouldn't we lock up the house?" Dixie was only too aware of the open door behind her.

"Just a minute." Justin disappeared into the house and returned in an instant with a handful of tattered panty hose. "Wouldn't do to leave this for the law," he said. "Come. He'll be there before us if we dawdle much longer."

"Hold my hand, love," Christopher said. "You have to concentrate."

"What on?"

"Flying."

"Ready to learn, young one?" Justin asked.