He's not there."

Reaper crouched in the bushes outside the mansion. It was a stunning place, or had been once. Time had contributed to its gradual decay, but shadows of its long ago glory remained. The tall wrought-iron fence that surrounded the place was punctuated by stone pillars topped with gargoyles that seemed nearly alive. And the gate at the front was locked, though its electronics had probably long since rusted and been rendered useless by wind and rain. The fence marched along both sides of the property, all the way to the cliff at the back, a cliff that overlooked the pounding sea far below.

It was a fortress. Defensible, private, secure.

He couldn't even get close enough to look through the windows without first getting over the fence. And he had no idea whether there were sensors or other methods that might alert Gregor to his presence once he did.

"You can't be sure he's gone," Dwyer said.

He and Briar were hiding just behind Reaper in the bushes alongside the curving drive, just beyond the gate. Briar said nothing.

Reaper sensed that her entire focus was on the house, though whether she was seeking Gregor or Crisa, he couldn't tell.

"Reaper, the CIA-"

"Meaning you," Reaper said.

"Meaning me. Us. We taught Gregor some...techniques to help him in his mission."

"Having nearly lost my life to him twice now, not to mention the lives of several of my-"

"Puppies," Briar put in.

Reaper slanted her a stern look but went on without acknowledging her interruption. "Given my experience with him, yes, I know he's latched on to some methods not widely known among our kind. Like how to create that army of drones he uses.

They have the strength of vampires, the minds of morons. They obey without question."

"It's a top secret program. I can't discuss it with you. And that's not what I was talking about, anyway. He can seal off a room or an entire building using advanced electronics, so that mental communication is impossible between vampires inside the room and those outside it. He can turn the force field on and off with a single switch."

"Yeah. I know about that, too," Reaper said. "I also know he's not using it now. I can sense the drones, a dozen or so of them, lurking around in there. But there's no sense of Gregor."

"Could he be in his own quarters, Reaper?" Briar asked. "A place within the house that he's sealed off against mental communication?"

"It feels like he left." Reaper stared at the road, the path from the house in the distance to the old rusting gates in front of him.

Then he laid his palm on the worn dirt driveway. "Just recently. He drove. And he was alone."

"If you say it, I believe it. I don't pick up any sense of Crisa at all," she said.

"Anything on the kid?" Dwyer asked.

Reaper and Briar glanced at each other, the exchange so brief, so quick, it went unnoted by Dwyer. But along with it went the mental question Why the hell is he so worried about the kid?

"No. No hint of the boy." Reaper frowned at Dwyer. "You do realize he's one of the Chosen, right?"

"Of course I do."

"So you know he's under our protection."

Dwyer met Reaper's eyes, held them for a second, then looked away. "He's under mine, too. I like Matt. I don't want to see anything happen to him."

Reaper noted Briar's frown and the wheels he could see turning behind her eyes. He wanted to pick her brain and was rather surprised by that, then wondered why he was surprised. She was smart. Insightful. Wary and cautious and cunning. He valued her opinion, particularly about men who were not to be trusted. God knew she'd seen enough of those to be familiar with the type.

And from the vibe he was picking up right now, he thought she trusted Derrick Dwyer even less than he did. And yet he thought there was a chance Dwyer might actually be concerned about the child.

"It would be a good time to get a look inside, check the place out," Briar suggested.

"He would know we had been there," Reaper replied.

"Yeah, but not until he was there, too. And by then it would be too late."

"And we still won't know where Crisa and the boy are," Reaper said. "You know damn well he'll never tell us. Not even under torture. He'd rather die."

"How do we know he even knows where they are?" she demanded.

Reaper sighed, glanced at Dwyer. "All we know for sure is that none of them are there right now. Let's withdraw. I have an idea how we can learn all there is to know about this place without setting foot inside. It'll give us an advantage."

He rose slightly, turned and started back along the path. Then Briar's hand closed on one shoulder and spun him around so fast he nearly lost his balance. "Crisa is dying, you cold son of a bitch. We don't have time to worry about research and recon and planning. We need to find her. Now!"

He studied her face. "You care for her, don't you? You might even love her."

"Don't be an idiot, Reaper."

"It's a phone call." Reaper watched her hand fall from his shoulder down to her side when he said that, so he gripped her shoulders instead. He pulled her a step closer, so there was very little space between them, and he didn't give a damn that Dwyer was watching them with a speculative look in his eyes. He had to make her listen.

"It's nothing more than a phone call, Briar. We get a safe distance away and I make a call. And while I do, you can open your mind and try to get a sense of Crisa.

If you can feel her, anywhere, we'll head that way. I promise. I'm not trying to delay this, I'm just trying to make sure we do it right. That's all."

She closed her eyes, as if searching inwardly for patience. "Okay. All right."

"She's more important to you than he is, isn't she?" Reaper asked.

"Crisa? More important to me than who?"

"Than Gregor."

She looked at him and licked her lips. "Look, my wanting to find Gregor is not based on my wanting Gregor. It's not like that.

Never was."

"But you led me to believe-"

"I didn't lead you anywhere. I just didn't correct your misconceptions."

He blinked as she kept walking right past him and back along the winding road toward where they had left the car. And after the revelation sank in, he caught up to her again. "So why is it you're so determined to get to him again?"

"None of your damned business."

"I think it is."

She stopped walking, the car only a few yards away now, sitting in the shadows beneath a nearly leafless maple tree. Skeletal twigs clacked against each other as the wind picked up.

"I'm not going to discuss it. Not with you, and not with anyone else. So forget it. All right?"

He held her gaze for a long moment, then finally, seeing the determination and-more than that, the pain-in her nearly black eyes, he gave in. "All right."

He moved past her to the car, opened the passenger door and held it for her. "Get in, relax, and try to pick up on Crisa. I'll drive us just far enough to get out of Gregor's range, in case he gets back here. And then I'll make that call."

She got in. He went around to the driver's side and got in, and then they both sat there waiting for Dwyer to catch up. She glanced at Reaper while they waited and said, "That call. It's to Eric Marquand, isn't it?"

"How'd you know?"

She shrugged. "Who better to help us know this place's secrets? Hell, he might know things about it that even Gregor hasn't managed to figure out yet."

"That's pretty much what I'm hoping for."

She nodded and leaned back against the headrest as Dwyer finally plunked himself down in the backseat. "Let's go," she said.

"The night's waning."

The car pulled into the rest area, and the headlights went immediately dark. It was low slung and black, and it had the look of evil about it, if a car could look evil. To Matt, it did.

His father opened the door and got out, then stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking at Matt and the woman who lay close to where he was kneeling in the rain.

"Hello, Dad." Matt got to his feet, though he was tired and frozen clean to the bone, not to mention soaked. "I'm really glad to see you." And that, he knew, was a lie. But maybe his shielding technique was good enough to fool even his father.

"Matthias." His father came forward, his pace measured and deliberate. Not fast, but not slow. Sure. It was sure, if it was anything. It spoke of confidence, impatience and a hint of anger. When he got close enough, he put his hands on Matt's shoulders and stared down into his face. "Did that Dwyer bastard hurt you?"

"No. But I'm pretty sure he was planning to. That's why I ran away from him just as soon as I could."

"You did, huh?"

Matt widened his eyes. "Of course I did. That guy kidnapped me. It's not like I wanted to go with him!"

"Mmm-hmm." His father glanced at the soaking wet woman in the mud and nodded in her direction. "And this drowned kitten?"

"Her name's Crisa. She's a vampire, like you, Dad. She saved me from Derr-er...Dwyer."

"But she didn't bring you home. I wonder why?"

"She was going to. She was like..." He paused for a moment, remembering the words he'd rehearsed in his mind over and over again while he'd awaited his father's arrival. "She was all into making sure you weren't being watched, that there wasn't some kind of ambush waiting. She said with Dwyer being CIA and all, we couldn't be too careful. But then before we could come up with a way to make sure, she just...she got really sick. She passed out."

"I see." Gregor hunkered down and tipped his head as he studied her.

"She saved me, Dad. And she's been really good to me. Can you help her?"

"I don't know. I don't know for sure what's wrong with her."

It was a lie. Matt was sure of it.

"Well...will you try?"

His father met his eyes, and then he nodded twice. "Yeah. I'll try. If you'll make me a promise, son."

"Anything."

Gregor studied him, grim-faced, for a long moment. "Next time someone tries to take you from me... kill them."

Matthias felt his eyes go wider and his throat go bone-dry. He tried to swallow and damn near choked. "K-kill them?"

"Yeah. I'll teach you how. There are plenty of ways to kill someone without even needing a weapon. Even when they're big and you're small. I should have taught you a long time ago, Matthias. I'm sorry I didn't. But it's an oversight I intend to remedy."

"That's okay. I didn't need it. Till now."

"Yeah. Well, you could have." Gregor sighed, then slid his arms underneath Crisa and picked her up as he straightened. "Come on, let's get you two into the warm car. We'll get home, and I'll see what I can do for her. All right?"

"You'll really try to help her?"

Pausing, Gregor turned and stared at his son, a deepening frown etched in his brow. "I said I would."

"Sometimes...you lie."

"I never-"

"You told me my mother was dead. That was a lie. I could hate you for that. I could. But I won't, because I know you only did it because you were afraid I'd leave you, that I'd run away to go to her."

Stunned, Gregor shook his head and opened his mouth as if to speak but couldn't seem to find the words.

"If you let Crisa die, I will hate you. I'll try to run away every chance I get, until eventually, I'll pull it off. Or if I never do, I'll wait until I grow up and you make me into what you are, and then I'll kill you myself and go find my mother. But I'll hate you, and I'll never stop hating you, if you let her die."

"What if I can't-"

"I know you can. There's nothing you can't do. I know that, because you told me so yourself." A big sob choked him, and tears welled up in his eyes. He swiped at them with the back of his hand and tried to take a big breath around the lump in his throat, but his voice was tight as he went on. "You save her and let her stay with us, and I'll never leave you again. I'll stay. I'll even try to forgive you for lying about Mom."

As he stared into Matt's eyes, Gregor seemed to be searching for an answer he couldn't find. It was odd to see realization dawn on his face as he lifted it skyward, and when he lowered his head again, he looked at Matt with a funny kind of admiration and a sort of surrender in his eyes.

"It wasn't really a lie, about your mother. She turned against us. What we are. To me, that was the same thing."

"She turned against what you are, you mean," Matt said. "I'm not the same-not yet."

"But you will be. And you'll be one of the strongest, most highly trained, most godlike creatures the immortal world has ever known. Because I'll have taught you. I'll have prepared you. You'll be like-"

"A prince. I know."

"You will. I love you, son. I want the best for you. I swear it."

"Then save her, Dad. I've never asked you for anything. But I really want this. Please...save her."

Gregor licked his lips, and then he nodded. "Yes. You're my son, and you want this. So you'll have it. It's only fitting. I'll take care of it, Matthias. You have my word."

Reaper hung up the phone and turned to Briar. They were sitting together in the motel suite's living room, while Dwyer had gone to the bedroom to take a nap. They, too, would have to sleep before long. It had taken time to reach Marquand. He'd been on the road, already on his way to join them at Rhiannon's request, and the conversation had been a long one. The night was growing short.

"Eric will be joining us here shortly after sundown," Reaper said. "He says the mansion has an underground entrance Gregor may not know about. It was installed as an emergency escape route, and if it hasn't caved in by now, it should still be accessible."

"That's great." Frustrated, Briar glanced toward the bedroom. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Do?"

"We can't just leave him free to run off while we

sleep. Either he'll be long gone by the time we wake, or we'll find ourselves in a CIA dungeon somewhere."

"I don't think he'll betray us."

"How can you possibly be sure of that?"

He thinned his lips. "I can't. That's why we're going to spend the day elsewhere."

"Yeah? And are we going to knock that Fed bastard out and hog-tie him before we leave?"

He shook his head slowly. "He'll be here when we come back at sundown. He's not going anywhere."

"What makes you think so?"

"He wants something." Reaper lifted his head and gazed into Briar's eyes. "I feel it. I don't have anything else to base it on.

Haven't read any errant thoughts or picked up any dark vibes from him. I just feel it. There's something in this that he's after, and he's as determined to get it as we are to get Crisa back. I just don't know what it is."

"Or who," Briar said softly. And she looked at him then, as if she were worried about him. As if she were concerned. For him.

Imagine that.

Yeah, he thought. That was exactly what he was doing. Imagining it.

He sighed, shaking his head, doubting his own intuitions about Dwyer, as much as he doubted them about this woman. From the beginning he'd believed there was something deeper in her, something more. Something real. He still did. But he was all too aware that he could be wrong.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't," she said.

"You're right, I've sensed it, too. But what can he be after, Reaper? What...besides you?"

"I don't think that's it. He'd have tried to take me in by now. Could have had a team waiting in ambush when we first showed up. Why wouldn't he, if that were his goal? No, it's something else."

She glanced at the bedroom door. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

He nodded, gripped her elbow and thought about asking her to tell him what she wanted with Gregor, but then thought better of it. She'd asked him not to. She'd refused to discuss it. Maybe he needed to respect that.

Besides, he would find out soon enough. They would be face-to-face with that bastard as soon as night fell.

He nodded, opened the door and led the way. He didn't bother waking Dwyer to tell him they were leaving. He would figure it out on his own when he woke.

Reaper drove them to a pretty, if garishly painted, little house, white with pink shutters and trim, and a lavender door. It looked like a place where Strawberry Shortcake would want to live.

He slowed the car down as he cruised slowly past the tiny paved driveway. "Will that do for the day?"

She looked at it as they cruised past. At the flower boxes in the windows, where orange and yellow marigolds were about the only things still in bloom. She looked at the heart-shaped cutouts in those pink shutters and grimaced. "Fortunately, someone lives there."

"They're on vacation."

She lifted one brow higher than the other.

"Feel around for yourself," he said.

Sighing, vowing she wouldn't spend the day in that cute little peppermint candy cottage if her name were Gretel, she focused on the place, opened her mind and let the sensations rush through her.

Nothing. Not even an animal's energy emanated from inside.

"There's a doghouse." Reaper pointed. "And a doggy door. But no dog. It feels like it's been awhile since anyone's been here.

Three, maybe four days."

"Okay. But how do you know when they're corning back?"

"Who goes on a four-day vacation?" he asked. "Look, we'll find verification before we settle in for the day, all right? Let's just go inside and look."

She narrowed her eyes on him. He was pulling the car to a stop a block and a half away from the little house, in a lay-by where it wouldn't attract undo notice. "Why that place?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's homey. Cozy."

"Two words I wouldn't have expected to exist in your vocabulary."

"They haven't," he said. "Not in a long time."

She sighed and decided to humor him. "All right, what the hell."

They got out of the car and started walking back toward the house. It was one of three on the block, but there wasn't a lot of space between it and its nearest neighbor, so they kept to the shadows. Briar looked skyward. There was at least an hour until dawn. Maybe an hour and a half.

Damn.

They cut through the backyard, senses alert. If a human noticed them, they would have felt it, but no one did. At the back door, Reaper reached for the knob, crinkled his brow and stared at the lock as if trying to make it burst into flames.

Briar laughed. She couldn't help it.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, brows lifted. "What's so funny back there?"

"You. Are you trying to melt it or just scare it to death?"

"I'm...concentrating."

She laughed again.

" What?"

"Uh, would you mind if I just..."

He moved aside, flipping a hand, palm up, toward the door, as if to say, All yours. Then he stood there, arms crossed over his chest, watching her.

Briar held her palm an inch from the door, just beneath the knob, then moved it quickly upward about two feet. Then she gripped the knob and turned it.

"Oh, come on, you can't possibly have-" Reaper began. But he shut up when the door swung open.

"I can't possibly have...what?" she asked, sending an innocent look at him as she stepped inside.

"How did you...?"

She grinned. "Jack taught me. He's even better at it than I am. Don't feel bad, though. It takes months of practice."

"I've had plenty of practice."

"At telekinesis-moving objects with your mind. But with locks you have to go beyond just pushing the tumblers around. You skip the details and just command it to open."

"And it just does?"

"Yeah. Eventually, when you get good enough to make it."

He closed the door behind him, smiling back at her as his eyes roamed her face, and she felt an odd little hitch in her breathing.

Then her smile died, and she averted her eyes.

"It's good to see you smiling, Briar."

"Yeah, well..."

"Everything's going to be fine, you know. We'll get Crisa, we'll get that damn chip out of her, and she'll be fine. Even if Dwyer can't do a lot, you can bet Marquand can. He's a genius, you know."

She shook her head. "No. I don't. I'd never even heard of him before I met you."

"Guess you'll have to take my word for it, then."

"Okay."

She looked around the house. They'd entered a neat-as-a-pin kitchen with sunny yellow walls, white wooden cupboards, a sunflower-patterned wallpaper border and matching curtains, dish towels and pot holders.

"It's almost puke-worthy."

"No, it's really not. Feel the energy. The people who live here are happy. They love this place."

She could feel that without even trying. "Which makes it even more puke-worthy," she observed. Then she crossed the room and looked at the calendar that hung on the wall. The photo for October featured a pumpkin-faced scarecrow reclining on a bale of hay amid russet leaves under a harvest moon.

"Looks like you were right," she said, and she pointed to where one word was written across seven days' worth of spaces.

BAHAMAS. "They won't be back until the day after tomorrow."

"Then we're safe here for the day."

She moved through the place. "I could use a snack."

"We probably shouldn't hunt too close to where we're going to rest, though," he said.

She agreed. "It can wait until nightfall. Maybe I'll eat your friend Dwyer. He's got it coming."

"There are things we need from him first," he said.

She nodded. "More than you know." He looked at her oddly, but she just shifted to a new topic. "So is this the kind of place where you lived with Miss Sunny-brook Farm?"

"Sunny...?"

"Rebecca," she clarified.

"Oh. Uh, no. We had an apartment in D.C. Huge, modern, expensive. Nothing like this."

"That shoots one theory out of the water," she muttered.

He shifted his feet. "I think I'll find a shower, get cleaned up before bed."

"Okay."

He walked away, and Briar took the backpack from her shoulder, opened it up and took out her notebook. She had a list of items that were her priorities. She'd been adding to it, altering it, changing the order, daily since they'd left on this mission.

Sometimes more than daily.

Right now it read:

Save Crisa

Kill Gregor

Kill Daddy Dearest

Leave the Scooby Gang

Forget him

She studied the list, licking her lips. She'd crossed out the part about killing her father, because it no longer applied. Killing him would have been a mercy, so it was no longer on the list. Saving Crisa was still first. But now she had so many other things on her mind, essential things. Vital ones.

She tore the page from the notebook, crumpled it and started a new list on a fresh page.

Save Crisa

Return the kid to his mother

Torture secrets out of Dwyer & give them to Reaper

Kill Dwyer

Kill Gregor... slow.

Leave the Scooby Gang

Forget about him

She tapped the pen on the final line numerous times, so there were dots all over the space after the final word. Forget about him.

She was no longer sure that was possible. And she didn't like what she was seeing in the way she'd rearranged her list. All of a sudden her own needs: vengeance against Gregor, getting the hell away from the white-hats, erasing her feelings about Reaper from her mind forever-which shouldn't be hard, because those feelings were purely physical-had been pushed off the top of the list in favor of things that had to do with other people.

With helping Crisa and the kid and Ilyana-a woman she didn't even like for God's sake-and Reaper.

Helping Reaper. Yeah. And if she were being really honest with herself here, she would move that one right up to the top of the list. Right underneath saving Crisa's life, or maybe even side by side with it.

Because in spite of herself, and in spite of what she had always thought she knew about men, he was a good one. He'd dropped everything to try to help her save Crisa. He'd left his precious pups on their own, even when they got themselves into trouble-which was, she figured, inevitable-and stuck with her. He'd kept his promise. She had no reason to think he wouldn't keep it right to the end.

He wasn't like her stepfather. Or Gregor. Or the pimps who'd tried to own her and sell her. Or the Johns who'd thrown handfuls of money at her and treated her like a piece of garbage. Or those who'd raped her and refused to pay her at all. Or the ones who'd humiliated her and denigrated her in ways she'd vowed never to forget.

He wasn't like them. As much as she'd convinced herself that all men were, he'd been steadily, consistently, proving her wrong.

And because of that, it was even more important that she get away from him once all this was done. Because of that-the fact that he'd convinced her, that she believed it now-it was vital.

He'd told her once that he thought the reason he was attracted to her was because he didn't believe he could hurt her.

Tough as she was, Briar knew better. Though she would rather die under slow torture than admit it to anyone in the world, she couldn't deny the truth that had made itself so clear to her over the last few days.

She believed in him. More than she had in her stepfather. More than she had in Gregor. More than she ever had in anyone.

Ever.

That gave him the power to hurt her more than she'd ever been hurt before. And that was a risk she just wasn't willing to take, a situation she wasn't willing to accept, wasn't capable of living with.

She had to leave him.

But the least she could do, she thought, was try to give him a little recompense before she did, a little reward for all he'd done to help her out, no matter how bitchy and vicious she'd been.

So she would get information from Dwyer. Two pieces of it. One that would free him from the condition that made him live in constant fear, and the other that would free him from the self-loathing he'd been living with for too long.

Dwyer would talk. She didn't have any doubt about that.