Roman woke with his usual sharp and sudden intake of air. His heart lurched in his chest, then settled down to a steady beat. He opened his eyes.

"Thank God," a voice muttered. "We dinna think ye'd ever wake up."

Roman blinked and turned his head toward the voice. Angus was standing next to his bed, frowning at him. In fact, there were several people crowded around his bed. Jean-Luc, Connor, Howard Barr, Phil, Gregori, and Laszlo.

"Hey, bro." Gregori smiled. "We were worried about you."

Roman glanced at Laszlo. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir." The small chemist nodded. "Thanks to you. You can't imagine how relieved I was to wake up in your house."

Angus crossed his arms over his broad chest. "The question is, how are you? I hear ye were up and about during the daytime."

"Yes." Roman sat up and glanced at his bedside clock.

God's blood. The sun must have set over an hour ago. "I overslept."

"I havena ever heard of that happening before," Connor said.

"Possibly a side effect of the drug you took." Laszlo leaned forward. "Do you mind if I check your pulse, sir?"

"Go ahead." Roman stretched his arm out. Laszlo studied his watch while he gripped Roman's wrist.

"Congratulations, mon ami" Jean-Luc said. "Your formula is a great success. Awake during the day¡ªit is amazing."

"I was still burned by sunlight." Roman glanced down at his chest where the sun had slashed a wound across his skin. The rip in his shirt was still there, but the skin had healed. Now, the wound was inside, tearing at his heart. Eliza had caused the wound a hundred years ago when she'd wanted to kill him. Now, because of Shanna, it was sliced open once again.

"Pulse is normal." Laszlo let go of Roman's wrist.

How could it be normal when his heart was ripped to shreds? Roman swallowed hard. "Did Shanna come back?"

"Nay," Connor whispered. "We havena heard from her."

"I tried to save her," Phil said, frowning. "But they had me outnumbered."

"That bloody Stake-Out team," Angus muttered. "Phil and Howard told us all about yer daytime adventure while we were waiting for ye to wake up."

Roman's heart squeezed in his chest. "She's joining her father's team. He'll train her to kill us."

Connor scoffed angrily. "I doona believe it."

Gregori shook his head. "It doesn't sound like her."

Angus sighed. "Mortals canna be trusted. I learned that the hard way." He regarded Roman sadly. "I thought ye did, too."

He had, but Shanna had filled him with hope once again. Roman had fallen asleep totally confused, and now it still didn't make sense. It seemed clear that Shanna had wanted to stay with her father. And staying with her father meant she would become a vampire killer. But why had she warned him of the slayer behind him? Why try to save his life if she wanted him dead? Did she think somehow she was protecting him by staying with her father? Did she actually love him after all?

"We've been busy while ye were sleeping," Angus announced. "When we woke, there was still an hour or so of nighttime in London and Edinburgh. So we've had every phone in this house busy while we teleported more of my men here. The good news is we now have an army downstairs of two hundred warriors. We're ready to go to war."

"I see." Roman climbed out of bed. Many of the men downstairs would be ones he had personally transformed. If they died in battle tonight, what would happen to their immortal souls? He knew they were good men, but still, they'd existed for centuries by feeding off mortals. God would never allow such creatures into heaven. And if the only alternative was hell, then Roman had doomed their immortal souls the minute he had transformed them. It was a burden of guilt too heavy to bear. "I'll be with you in a minute. Please wait in my office."

The men filed out. Roman dressed, then went into his office to warm up a bottle of blood. "How's your mother, Gregori?"

"Fine. I just came from the hospital." Gregori slouched in a wingback chair, frowning. "She says she made you swear to keep me safe during the upcoming war. I'm not a coward, you know."

"I know." The microwave dinged, and Roman removed his bottle of blood. "But you haven't been trained to fight."

"Big deal," Gregori muttered. "I'm not staying behind."

Roman sipped straight from the bottle. "Do we have enough weapons?"

"We're bringing stakes and our silver-plated swords." Angus paced about the room, his kilt swinging about his knees. "And we're bringing guns in case Petrovsky has mortals helping him."

The phone on Roman's desk rang.

"Speak of the devil," Jean-Luc whispered.

Roman strode to his desk and picked up the receiver. "Draganesti here."

"This is Petrovsky. I don't know how you managed to get in my house during the day, but don't ever try it again. From now on, I'll have thirty armed guards here, and they'll be shooting silver bullets."

Roman sat behind his desk. "I see my new formula has you worried. Are you afraid we'll come and stake you while you're sleeping?"

"You won't find us, you bloody svoloch! We have other places to sleep during the day. You'll never find us."

"I found my chemist. I can find you."

"You can have the stupid chemist. The little weasel ripped all the buttons off my couch. Now, here's the deal, Draganesti. You deliver Shanna Whelan to me tonight, or I keep bombing your plants and kidnapping your employees. And the next time I take one of your people, he'll be a pile of dust by the time you find him. Just like that Highlander I staked last night."

Roman's grip on the receiver tightened. He wouldn't risk any more Highlanders. And he'd never betray Shanna, even if she betrayed him. "I don't have Dr. Whelan."

"Of course you do. I heard she was in my house with you. You turn her over, and I'll stop bombing Romatech."

Ridiculous. Petrovsky would never stop causing trouble. Roman knew that without a doubt. And he knew he would protect Shanna with his dying breath. "Listen, Petrovsky. You won't be bombing Romatech, or kidnapping my employees, or harming a hair on Shanna Whelan's head, because you're not going to live through the night."

Ivan snorted. "That drug you took has messed up your head."

"We have an army of two hundred warriors, and we're coming after you tonight. How many men do you have, Petrovsky?" There was a pause. Roman knew from Angus's latest reports that the Russian-American coven can muster about fifty warriors at the most.

"I'll be generous," Roman continued, "and say you have a hundred men. That still leaves you outnumbered two to one. Would you care to wager on who's going to win tonight's battle?"

"You stinking svoloch. You can't have two hundred men."

"We teleported some in from the United Kingdom. But don't take my word for it. You'll see us soon enough."

Petrovsky cursed in Russian. "We can do that, too, you know. I'll bring in hundreds from Russia."

"Too late. The sun's already up in Russia. You can call, but they won't be answering the phone." Roman heard his friends chuckling. They wouldn't find his next comment very amusing. "But since you're in a bind, I'm willing to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Petrovsky asked.

Angus, Connor, and Jean-Luc approached Roman's desk with wary expressions on their faces.

"What do you want more than anything?" Roman asked. "More than killing Shanna Whelan or a few Scotsmen?"

Petrovsky snorted. "I'd like to rip your heart out and roast it over an open fire."

"Okay, I'll give you the chance. We'll settle this dispute once and for all. Just you and me."

Angus leaned over the desk, whispering, "What are ye saying, man? We canna allow ye to fight alone."

"Let our warriors fight," Jean-Luc said. "It's a sure win."

Roman covered the receiver with his hand. "This is the best way. We won't have to risk anyone's life."

Connor frowned. "Ye're risking yer own. We willna have it."

"What exactly are you saying, Draganesti?" Petrovsky asked on the phone. "Are you giving yourself up?"

"No," Roman answered. "I'm proposing a duel. Silver swords, and we don't stop till one of us is dust."

"What do I get for winning, other than the pleasure of killing your ass?"

"You will accept my death as payment for the safety of all my employees, my coven, the Highlanders, and Shanna Whelan. You will not harm any of them."

"Nay!" Angus thumped the desk with his fist. "Ye willna do this."

Roman held up a hand to stop further objections from his friends.

"How noble of you," Petrovsky sneered on the phone. "But that wouldn't be much fun for me, would it? I want a victory for the True Ones."

Roman considered. "All right. If I die this evening, all manufacture of Vampire Fusion Cuisine will end." After all, he wouldn't be around to invent the formulas.

"Does that include your synthetic blood?" Petrovsky asked.

"No. Synthetic blood saves human lives. Don't you want healthy mortals roaming about?"

Petrovsky snorted. "Fine. I get to skewer your ass, and I put a stop to your crappy Fusion Cuisine. Two a.m., Central Park, East Green. See you there."

"Wait a minute," Roman interrupted. "We haven't established what I get when I win."

"Ha! You're not winning."

"When I win, your people must swear never to harm any of mine again. That includes all my employees, both vampire and mortal, the Highlanders, and Shanna Whelan."

"What? Then your people remain safe whether you live or die. That sucks."

"It's my only condition," Roman said. "If you want a chance to kill me and end Fusion Cuisine, you'll take it."

While Petrovsky thought this over, Angus and Jean-Luc fussed at Roman.

"This is foolish, mon ami" Jean-Luc whispered. "When is the last time you practiced with a sword?"

Roman couldn't remember. "You trained me for over a hundred years. I can do this."

"But ye're out of practice, man." Angus glowered at him. "Ye've been closed up in yer wee lab for too long."

"Exactement," Jean-Luc announced. "I will go in your stead."

"No," Roman answered. "I transformed you, and I will not risk your immortal soul."

Jean-Luc's eyes narrowed. "That is the problem. You still feel guilty for transforming us."

"Dammit to hell," Angus growled. "It is our choice if we want to risk our souls. Who the hell do ye think ye are?"

Roman ignored them and spoke into the phone, "We come alone, Petrovsky. Just you and me, and only one survives. Are we in agreement?"

"Yes. But only because I've wanted to kill you for over five hundred years. Say your prayers, priest. Tonight, you die." Petrovsky hung up.

Roman dropped the receiver into place and stood.

"Ye canna do this," Angus shouted. "I willna have it."

Roman placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "This is my choice, Angus. It will save the lives of my friends."

"I am the best swordsman among us." Jean-Luc's eyes flashed an icy blue. "I demand to go in your stead. It is my right."

"Don't worry, Jean-Luc." Roman gripped the Frenchman's shoulder. "You taught me well. Wasn't I the one who delivered the fatal blow to Casimir?"

Jean-Luc scowled at him. "Only because I was watching your back."

"Ye're no' thinking straight," Angus insisted. "Ye're too distraught over that Whelan lass leaving you."

Roman swallowed hard. Was there any truth to Angus's claim? If Shanna were here, would he be so willing to risk himself? Still, he wasn't trying to kill himself. He certainly planned on winning. Killing Petrovsky might damage the Malcontent movement, but it wouldn't put an end to it. He needed to survive so he could continue to protect his people. "My decision is made."

"I'll be yer second," Connor announced.

"No. Petrovsky and I agreed to meet alone."

"He willna honor the agreement," Angus declared. "He canna be trusted. Ye know that."

"I will not break the agreement. And neither will any of you." Roman looked each of his friends in the eye. "You don't know where we are meeting. And you will not follow me."

They gave him looks full of despair. Angus opened his mouth to argue.

"Promise me," Roman broke in before they could object. "You will not follow me."

"All right." Angus glanced at the others with a pained expression. "Ye have our word."

Roman headed for the door.

"Ye once thought ye could save an entire village, and in yer pride, ye fell prey to Casimir. Now ye think to save us all."

Roman paused halfway through the door and looked back at Angus. "This isn't the same."

"Are ye sure?" Angus whispered. "Beware, my old friend. Ye've fallen to pride once before."



Shanna sat up in bed. She looked around, momentarily disoriented.

"Are you okay?" Austin asked.

"I¡ªyes. I must have fallen asleep." She was in a hotel room with two watchdogs. Austin had been joined by a young, brunette woman shortly after they arrived. The clock radio beside the bed glowed 8:20. Darn. She'd slept for too long. But after staying up all night, she'd been exhausted. "Is it dark outside?"

"Sure." Austin pointed to a pizza on the table next to him and the woman. "You want to eat?"

"In a little while." So Roman would be awake now. Was he preparing for war with the Russians? If only she could talk to him to see if he was all right. Her dad had confiscated her cell phone. She glanced at the phone on the bedside table. Still disconnected. Austin had pulled the plug on it when they'd first arrived. She was obviously not to be trusted. She could hardly complain, since they were right. The first chance she got, she intended to go back to Roman.

"Hi, I'm Alyssa," the brunette introduced herself. "Your dad asked me to bring some of your clothes from your apartment." She motioned to a suitcase at the base of Shanna's bed.

Shanna recognized her old luggage. "Thank you."

"We rigged the television to show DVN." Austin picked up the remote and turned up the volume. "The explosion at Romatech was the big story on their news. They're wondering if Draganesti is going to retaliate tonight."

"This vampire television is amazing." Alyssa sipped from a canned cola. "They have soap operas just like we do. And what on earth is Chocolood?"

"A drink made of chocolate and blood," Shanna explained. "It's popular with the ladies, though I heard it's making them gain weight."

Alyssa laughed. "You're kidding me."

"No. In fact, Roman made a new drink to help solve the problem. It's called Blood Lite."

This time, both her watchdogs laughed.

Austin shook his head. "They're not at all what I expected."

"Me, neither." Alyssa bit into a piece of pizza. "I thought they'd be white and slimy, but they look so normal."

"Yeah," Austin agreed. "And they have this whole culture that's different, but it still seems so.. human."

"They are human. They feel pain and fear and.. love." Shanna wondered what Roman was feeling right now.

"Well, don't let your dad hear that," Alyssa warned her. "He thinks they're a bunch of vicious psychopaths."

"Where is my dad?" Shanna asked.

"Watching Petrovsky's house, as usual," Austin replied. "He hates the Russians with a passion, especially since they targeted you at that restaurant."

Shanna blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Way to go, Austin," Alyssa muttered.

"I thought she knew." Austin turned to Shanna. "Didn't the FBI tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Shanna's heart rate quickened. "Are you saying my friend's murder wasn't an accident?"

Austin frowned. "It was payback. Your dad sent some of the top mafia guys in Russia to jail. Your family was flown out of Russia in secret. No one knows where they are. When the remaining mafia guys wanted revenge, you were the only family member they could find."

Shanna shook off a wave of dizziness. "They were trying to kill me? Karen died because of me?"

"It's not your fault," Alyssa insisted. "You only became a target because you're Sean Whelan's daughter."

"Given the circumstances," Austin continued, "working on our team will be the best life for you. You'll be under the radar, untraceable, and well trained in self-defense."

Shanna collapsed onto her back and stared at the ceiling. All this time, she'd thought that night at the restaurant was a terrible fluke. They'd been at the wrong place at the wrong time. But all along, she'd been the target. She was supposed to die, not Karen.

"Are you okay?" Alyssa asked.

"I feel terrible about Karen dying instead of me."

"Well." Austin popped open a can of soda. "If it helps, the mafia would have killed you both if they'd seen you. They wouldn't have left any witnesses."

Somehow, that didn't really help. Shanna closed her eyes.

Shanna ? Where are you ?

She gasped and sat up. Austin and Alyssa stared at her. "I, uh, need to go." She hurried to the restroom. My God, was Roman trying to contact her? Could their connection be strong enough to work long distance? She turned on the water faucets to mask her voice. "Roman, can you hear me?"

Yes. I'm here. His voice grew louder in her head as if he were tightening the connection. Where are you?

"I'm in a hotel with some of my father's team members."

Are you a prisoner? Or is that where you want to be?

"I'm fine for now. Don't worry about me. How are you? Are you going to war tonight?"

The dispute will be finished tonight. Why¡ªwhy did you call your father? I thought you were going to stay with me.

"I didn't call him. He was outside, watching Petrovsky's house, and saw me go in. He thought I was in danger, so he came in to rescue me."

You intend to stay with him ?

"I'd rather be with you, but if staying here helps me to protect you¡ª"

I don't need your protection!

His angry voice reverberated in her head for a few seconds. "Roman, I will always love you. I would never betray you."

The connection crackled with tension.

"Roman? Are you there?"

A new emotion sifted into the connection. Despair. He was hurting. Shanna pressed his silver crucifix against her heart.

If I survive this night, will you come back to me?

If he survived the night? "Roman, what are you saying? Are you going to war?"

Will you come back to me?

"Yes! Yes, I will. But Roman, don't do anything dangerous. Please." Her grip on the crucifix tightened.

There was no response.

"Roman! Don't go!" She jumped when there was a banging on the bathroom door.

"Shanna!" Austin shouted. "Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine," she yelled. She concentrated on sending a mental message. Roman. Roman, can you hear me?

No response. The connection was gone. And so was Roman.

It couldn't be a matter of pride. Angus had to be wrong. Roman knew Jean-Luc was a better swordsman. Angus was a better soldier. So how could it be pride that was hurtling him down this chosen path? He didn't know. All he knew for certain was he would do anything to save his people and Shanna. He'd changed many of the Highlanders himself. He'd even transformed Jean-Luc and Angus. He'd condemned all their souls to an eternity in hell should they perish. He couldn't allow that to happen, even if it meant his own death and eternal damnation.

It was shortly after eleven when Roman climbed the stone steps and opened the heavy wooden door of a church. His steps echoed in the empty foyer. Flames flickered in row upon row of red glass votives. Statues of saints and the Holy Mother stared down at him, questioning his presence in a house of God. He wondered about it, too. What did he think to gain here?

He crossed himself, then reached for the holy water. He paused, his hand hovering over the font. The water swirled, then began to boil. Steam drifted upward, heating his skin.

He snatched his hand away. He needed it in good shape for the swordfight. As the water ceased to boil, his heart sank into despair. Surely he had received the answer to his question. His soul was doomed.

The door banged shut behind him. Roman whipped around, then relaxed when he saw who had entered.

Connor, Gregori, and Laszlo gave him sheepish looks.

"I thought I made myself clear. I was not to be followed."

Connor shrugged. "We knew we could follow ye here. Ye wouldna be fighting a duel in a kirk, now would ye?"

"Besides," Gregori added. "We were coming here, anyway. We wanted to pray for you."

"Yes." Laszlo crossed himself. "We've come to pray."

Roman snorted. "Pray all you like, for all the good it will do." He strode down the aisle to the confessional booths. He entered a booth and took a seat.

A small door slid open. On the other side of the screen, Roman could barely make out the shape of the priest in the dark. He seemed old and hunched over.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." Roman turned away and mumbled the first half of the next sentence. "It's been five hundred and fourteen years since my last confession."

"What was that?" an old voice rasped. The priest cleared his throat. "Fourteen years?"

"It's been a long time. I have broken my vows before God. I've committed many sins. And tonight, I may cease to exist."

"Are you ill, my son?"

"No. Tonight, I will risk my life to save my people." Roman rested his head on the wooden wall. "But I'm not sure good can triumph over evil, or that I am even good. God has abandoned me, so surely I am also evil."

"Why do you believe God has abandoned you?"

"Once, long ago, I believed I could save a village, but I succumbed to the sin of pride and fell into darkness. I have been there ever since."

The priest cleared his throat once again and shifted in his chair. Roman figured his story sounded too strange. He'd wasted his time coming here. What had he hoped to find?

"Let me see if I understand," the priest said. "The first time you tried to save people, you were certain of victory?"

"Yes. In my pride, I knew I could not fail."

"Then, in your mind, you were risking nothing. Are you certain of victory tonight?"

Roman stared into the darkness of the booth. "No, I am not."

"Then why are you risking your life?"

Tears filled his eyes. "I cannot bear for them to risk their own. I.. love them."

The priest took a deep breath. "Then you have your answer. You do this not out of pride, but out of love. And since love comes from the Father, He has not abandoned you."

Roman scoffed. "You do not understand the magnitude of my sins."

"Perhaps you do not understand the magnitude of God's forgiveness."

A tear rolled down Roman's face. "I wish I could believe you, Father. But I have done such evil. I fear it is too late for me."

The priest leaned close to the screen. "My son, for the truly repentant, it is never too late. I will pray for you tonight."