Utana stared down at the woman who slept all curled around him. She'd positioned her body to be as close as humanly possible to his, every part touching, as if she couldn't stand to allow even air to pass between them.

She was beautiful, powerful and brave. Had this been a different time, a different age, and had he still been the king of his land, he would have made her his queen. The kind of queen she'd asked him about-the kind he had never considered. He knew now that was because he'd never known a woman who was as worthy as this one. Even the gods knew that his beautiful Brigit was worthy. One needed only to observe what she was going through to save her people, even when they had turned against her. To save him, even when she had no reason to believe in him at all. Her loyalty knew no bounds, and he admired that.

As he admired so much about her.

He allowed himself to rest for as long as he dared, relishing the feel of her in his arms. So deceptive, her size. She packed the power of a goddess into her tiny body.

But all too soon it was time. He felt the night's approach, knew it was only a bit more than an hour away, and she would need that time to free the Chosens. Gently, he stroked her hair, her face, with the whiskery growth upon his own, until her eyes fluttered open.

"It is time, my love."

She sat up straighter, stretching her arms wide, arching her back. Then she relaxed and smiled as she met his eyes. "I hate to leave you."

"I need to remain here. To ensure you have time to do what must be done."

"Has the drug worn off yet?"

"I don't know."

"Try 'sploding something," she suggested.

He looked around the basement room, his eyes falling on a wooden crate near the giant tanks on the far end. Focusing on it, he narrowed his eyes and called on the power.

"No!" Brigit clapped her hand over his eyes. Then, parting her fingers over one eyeball, she said, "Not that. Nothing that's anywhere near those tanks, Utana. They're filled with propane. Gas. It's highly flammable. You send a beam at those tanks and this whole place will explode."

He nodded, and she took her hand away from his eyes. She had confirmed for him what he had suspected. What he had hoped for.

But he could not reveal that to her. She would understand soon enough.

She picked up the length of chain holding his right arm. "Try this. Just don't burn it all the way through and set off their damned sensors."

Utana affixed his gaze to the chain, calling on the energy that he knew came not from him but rather, through him. He asked the gods to assist him. And he felt the power begin to move. The beam from his eyes shot out, but it was neither bright nor strong. It touched the chain but only warmed it. And in seconds, unable to sustain the power, he had to allow it to blink out.

Brigit touched the chain, nodded. "It got good and hot, Utana. You'll be yourself again in no time." Then she looked at the chains. "Let me free you."

"You know you cannot, Brigit." He bent closer to her and she rose to meet him as he kissed her lips. "Go now. Go free the Chosens. When they are safe, you and I will leave this place together. Go. And be careful, Lady Moonlight. Do not let harm come to you."

"You be careful, too. I'm going to be good and pissed off if we don't have a chance to...to be...you know."

"I know." He kissed her again.

"No, you don't," she told him. "Utana, we have a saying in this time. When people go through the hell we've gone through, and in the end, they find triumph and peace, and are able to be together-they are said to live happily ever after." She had to pause, and he understood why. Could tell by the thickening of her voice, the blinking of her eyes, that tears were near for her. "I want my happily ever after, Utana. I want it with you."

"It is a good saying. I wish to make it true for you. I promise I will try."

"Do more than try," she said. "Make it so."

He nodded. "Go now," he told her. "Go before it's too late."

And so, dashing the tears that spilled onto her cheeks away with one hand, she went. He watched her every step of the way, until she vanished from his sight, and his heart felt as if it were already dying at the notion that he might not ever lay eyes upon his beautiful Brigit again.

"Nurse...um, Corona, is it?"

Roxy looked up from the nurses' desk, surprised. It wasn't time for the evening inspection yet. "Yes?"

The man who stood at the desk was the scar-faced bastard who seemed to be running the show around here. Eyes the color of wet cement, and just as lifeless, just as cold.

"Yes, I thought so. I have a concern about the health of the little girl in 3-B. Miranda, isn't it?"

"Melinda."

"Right, right. She's having trouble breathing. Could you come take a look?"

Roxy was out of her chair and heading for the room immediately. "You should get a real doctor over here," she said quickly, thinking all the while that she wasn't anywhere near qualified to help a sick child. There were real nurses around this joint. Some of those DPI bitches were actually educated, degreed, registered nurses, and she was going to have to find a way to get one of them involved without giving herself away, if little Melinda was in trouble. She wasn't about to let anything happen to that precious, spunky little-

She stepped into Melinda's room, spotting the little girl in her mother's arms, huddled near the window on the far side, tears streaming down her face. "Honey, what's wrong?"

But before she could rush to the child's side, Roxy was quickly grabbed by men who'd been hiding on either side of the door. Her arms were pulled roughly behind her, and she was handcuffed.

"What the hell do you think you're-get your lousy hands off'a me, you pieces of-"

"Shut up, Roxy," the scar-faced man said. "We know who you are. We've known for a while now." Turning to the men who held her, he barked, "I want this one and the girl taken to the secure area for further study."

One of the men-the same one who'd handcuffed Roxy-reached for little Melinda and jerked her to him. She pushed him away, though, her skinny arms stronger than they looked, and then she shrieked and bit his hand. He let her go, and she buried her face against her mother, hugging Jane's thigh fiercely.

Scarface looked at Jane. "All right, fine. I'll tell you a bit of information you are not yet supposed to know. Every patient who is not in the secure room is going to die. She, however, is special and needs further study. As does our legendary Roxanne here. Those are the choices."

"I won't go without my mommy!" Melinda yelled. "You can't make me. I'll bite his hand right off next time!"

Scarface's lips twitched, and Roxy thought the snake-hearted fool was trying to hide a smile. "Take the mother, too. She's not one of them, anyway, so she's no threat."

If he thought she was no threat, Roxy mused, then he'd never seen a mother bear protecting her cub. Jane had an iron spine, and she loved her daughter like nobody's business. Good. One more ally.

She heard a commotion and turned to look out through the glass in the closed door. There were soldiers out there, a dozen of them, and they were herding all the patients toward the elevators.

She swung her head around, pinning Scarface with her eyes. "What's happening? Where are they taking everyone?"

He ignored her, but the look in his eyes told her more than words could. Wherever the Chosen were going, it would be their final journey before the one to the other side. He hadn't been kidding. He was going to kill them all.

And Brigit would return here anytime now, with her plan to free everyone, only to find no one left to free.

"This isn't what we were told was happening tonight," Roxy said, speaking rapidly, words spilling forth in her state of near panic. "We were supposed to lock all the patients in their rooms and then go to the first floor. You told us-"

"I told you what I wanted you to believe. Why on earth would I reveal the real plan to a vampire spy, Roxy? Or to any of the freakish humans who bear the vampire antigen? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He gave her a look that said he would prefer to smack her, but she only resumed gazing out into the hall, where she could see the elevator doors closing on the last load of the Chosen. Then Scarface reached past Roxy, opened the door and led the way as his two henchmen brought up the rear, herding the three captives into the hallway. "This way," he said, turning right, passing by the nurses' desk and heading all the way to the farthest end of the corridor. They marched past every empty patient room, all the way to the "secure room" at the end.

It was a white-padded room with no windows, no furniture. Nothing at all.

Scarface opened the door and stepped aside. The other men shoved the captives inside, then closed the door as the three of them stumbled and fell over each other.

Roxy jumped to her feet fast, hands still cuffed behind her, and lunged at the door, only to smash into it as it closed. She heard locks being turned from the other side. And then the men were gone, and they were alone.

"Why did he do this?" Jane muttered, hugging her daughter close. "Why keep us and not everyone else?"

Roxy looked at her, her eyes steady. "I imagine it's because we're different from the rest of the Chosen."

"The Chosen." Jane lowered her head.

"Those with the Belladonna Antigen. Like your Melinda. And me. And every other resident of this place."

The woman nodded. "That much I knew."

"But Melinda is special, even among the Chosen. Her psychic abilities are...they're like nothing I've ever seen."

"I didn't think they knew. We tried to keep it to ourselves."

"There's not much they don't know."

"What about you?" Melinda asked. "How are you special, Roxy?"

"I'm the oldest. I dabble in a bit of witchcraft. And I'm really good friends with a lot of vampires."

The little girl's eyes widened when Roxy said that, and she moved closer to her mother.

Jane frowned, tilting her head to one side. "They told us that those with the antigen were especially vulnerable to...to vampire attack. They said they were bringing us here to protect us from them until the government got the situation under control."

"They lied," Roxy said. "And since it looks like we've got some time on our hands, I'm going to tell you all about the vampires I know. Besides, if anyone gets us out of this mess, it'll probably be them, and I don't want you two panicking when they do." She shifted her shoulders. "I hope they hurry, because this is damned uncomfortable." Then her eyes shifted to the little girl. "Sorry. Darned uncomfortable."

Melinda moved forward, smiling and held up one hand. In it was a tiny key.

"Where on earth did you get that?" her mother asked.

"I took it from the bad man-the one I bit."

"You're even more special than I thought," Roxy told her as she turned around, presenting her wrists.

The little girl inserted the key into the handcuffs, twisted it. One cuff popped open, and Roxy turned, brought her hands in front of her and used the key to open the other cuff. Free, she rubbed her wrists. "Thank you, Melinda."

"You're welcome. Now will you tell us about the vampires?"

"Oh, I'd be happy to. I've been dying to, in fact, but we had to be so careful about what we said before."

"Do you know lots of vampire stories?" Melinda asked.

"I know most of them. So many stories. So very many stories. You're going to enjoy this. Come on, sweetie, let's get cozy."

Brigit belly-slid through the ductwork until she was over the room where Roxy, Jane and little Melinda would be waiting to meet her. She was excited, primed for battle, alive like she'd never been before. But she was also afraid-and she'd never been afraid of fighting before. But then again, she'd never had so much to lose.

She peered down through the grate but saw no one below. The room seemed empty.

Frowning, she listened. Ahh, okay, there was water running in the bathroom. They must be in there, then. Getting ready to make their escape.

Carefully, quietly, Brigit wriggled the grate loose, and then she lowered herself through the opening, dangling for only an instant before dropping to the floor.

The second her feet touched down, her upper arms were caught in iron hands by men who sprang on her from out of nowhere. A third quickly snapped a pair of odd-looking goggles over her eyes and yanked an adjustable strap tight behind her head, pulling her hair in the process.

She blinked, stunned. This, she realized, was not a blindfold. She could see through goggles. The glass lenses appeared clear. As the men held her arms, she struggled, while the third jerked the strap even tighter at the back of her head, until the rubber edges of the goggles bit into her face.

Through the lenses, she saw him. Nash Gravenham-Bail. He was clapping his hands slowly, smiling a grin of pure evil.

"It was a very nice effort, wasn't it, guys? Very nice." He stopped clapping and reached out, cupping her cheek. "You see, little Brigit, I've known who you were from the beginning. But when I saw Utana's reaction to you in that belly dance getup-you're very talented, by the way. Where did you ever learn to dance like that?"

"Fuck you."

He shrugged. "I doubt there'll be time, really. At any rate, from the moment I saw Utana's...well, let's be polite and call it fondness for you-I knew I could use you to keep him in line. I didn't plan on the two of you escaping, but...well, it's worked out quite beautifully all the same, hasn't it?"

He pulled a bulging sack from his shoulder. The pillowcase Utana had brought with him from the mansion, she realized. "I found this in your car. The costume's still in there. Put it on for us, won't you, Brigit? It'll be almost poetic."

"Go to hell, you scar-faced sonofa-"

One of the thugs clapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish. Talking slowly, Gravenham-Bail opened the pillowcase and tugged the silky, jangling belly-dance outfit from it.

"See, the guys here were hoping you'd say that. They're looking forward to putting it on for you. Oh, and I should probably mention that if you try to blast anyone with that rather unusual power of yours, you'll make your own head explode. The glass in those goggles is designed to reflect the beam right back at you. You're harmless. Impotent. Completely at my mercy."

"You think?" The words were muffled behind the hand at her mouth, but she said them all the same. Then she bent her elbows, using the men who held her as leverage. In a flash she lifted herself up, feet rising as her knees bent, and she kicked straight out to either side, catching the thugs squarely in the cojones.

They released her as they doubled over in pain, and then she lunged forward, intending to mow Nash over on her way out the door.

He stepped aside as if to let her pass but jabbed her with a needle on her way by.

She only made it four steps into the hallway before the weakness welled up within her. Her knees turned into liquid, and her vision swam.

Vaguely, as she sank to the floor, she was aware of Nash Gravenham-Bail coming to stand over her. "I was ready for that," he whispered. And then he crouched low and started peeling her clothes off as her body became too weak to fight and her head spun like an out-of-control merry-go-round. He was quick and clinical, stripping her and redressing her in the beautiful costume. He left her feet bare, and then nudged one of his soldiers, who was walking oddly.

"Toss her over your shoulder and let's get her outside. Are the Chosen ready yet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. And it's just about dark, too. The timing is coming together perfectly. Let's begin, then, shall we?"

Scarface led the way, marching not toward the elevators but along the hallway toward the back. She didn't know why. She hung all but helplessly over the soldier's shoulder as he strode along behind his boss. As they passed a door at the end of the hall, she got an odd tingly feeling and looked up.

Beyond the mesh in the safety glass she saw a padded room, with three figures inside. They were sitting on the floor, Roxy speaking, while Melinda and her mother looked on, mesmerized.

Aside from them, the fourth floor seemed abandoned.

It was not long before she knew why.