By the time the four of them reached Rhiannon's exclusive neighborhood, Angelica was barely able to stand on her own. Rhiannon knew better than to doubt the woman's sense that something was terribly wrong.

Before she had even exited the cab, Rhiannon saw the broken remains of her entry door, which looked as if it had been smashed in with a battering ram. As the taxi pulled away, Angelica saw it, too, and screamed. Jameson took his arms from around her for the first time since they had left the plane, and he ran into the house, shouting for Amber Lily. Without him to hold her upright, Angelica sank to the ground, weeping, shaking her head. "She's not here," she said. "She's not here."

Rhiannon shot Roland a look and a message. His eyes replied. He would see to her. And even as he bent to scoop Angelica up into his arms, Rhiannon raced into the house.

Her home.

They hadn't trashed it. But they'd been messy. Careless. Things were toppled, strewn about as if they'd been searching the place. She went into the bedroom, opening her senses, feeling for any hint of a presence. And she felt one. She met Jamey's eyes and knew he felt it, too.

She dropped to her knees and peered under the bed.

Alicia shrieked and folded her body more tightly around itself, hiding her face.

"Come out, child, it's all right. No one can hurt you now. Come."

Trembling, Alicia lowered her hands from her face, revealing only her eyes. "Aunt Rhiannon?" she asked.

"Yes, it's me. Roland is here, as well, as are Jameson and Angelica. You're safe now. And you have to come out."

Alicia closed her eyes against a flood of tears. "Angelica's here?"

"Child, I am growing weary of having a conversation while standing on my head. Contrary to pop fiction, I do not double as a bat. Come out from under that bed before I'm forced to pull you out by whatever appendage I can reach."

Alicia nodded in jerky motions and uncurled her body, rolling from her side onto her back. Then she slid out from under. The moment she did, Jameson gripped her hands and hauled her to her feet. ' 'What happened? Where's Amber?" he demanded.

"I don't know. Some men came. She shoved me under the bed. They took her." Her chest heaved between words, breaking her sentences into barely intelligible barks. "Where's my mom?"

"She'll be here soon," Jameson said. "We phoned her from home." Rhiannon sent him a sharp glance. "I knew something was wrong here, Rhiannon, even though you refused to tell me. I had to let Susan know. She will meet us here." Then he returned his attention to Alicia. "Now tell me what happened to Amber."

Alicia's body bent, jerking with her sobs. "Amber only went with them to protect me. She could...have fought. But they were searching. They'd have...found me."

"Where did they take her? Where, dammit?" Jameson had the girl by the shoulders and was a heartbeat away from shaking her.

Rhiannon grasped one of his shoulders and spun him firmly away from her. "This child is traumatized."

Roland came in, Angelica at his side, walking under her own power now. She went to Alicia, gathered the girl into her arms, and held her close as they both cried. "It's not your fault, Alicia," she said softly. "Don't think any of us blame you for this. They stole her from me once, too. I know you'd have stopped it if you could."

"I should have tried," she whispered into Angelica's hair. "I should have tried even if it killed me, but God, I was so scared, I couldn't even move."

Rhiannon often thought Alicia was far more like Angelica than Amber was, but she would never say it aloud. "Come to the kitchen. I keep herbal teas for the housekeeper. I believe there's a chamomile and lavender blend that will help calm you, Alicia. And then you have to tell us everything, as calmly as you can."

"But it's too late," she sobbed.

"Nonsense. It's 11:00 p.m. Which gives us plenty of time to hunt these suicidal thugs down and make them wish they'd never been born."

She nodded. Rhiannon hurried to the kitchen, put water on to warm, quickly located the box of herbal teas and pulled out a chair. Angelica brought Alicia in slowly, the two of them shuffling along as if they'd been severely beaten. Rhiannon had to bite her lip to keep from snapping at them.

Angel helped Alicia into a chair, then took one herself.

"Time is of the essence," Roland said, very gently, and Rhiannon knew he'd felt her impatience. "Please, tell us all that transpired."

"Well...we kept seeing this man. Several times when we went out, he...seemed to be following us. And he took a hotel room right next to ours. I think he was DPI, or one of those rogue agents we've heard you talk about-the ones who survived. Then we met this vampire at a club and-"

"What kind of club?" Jameson demanded.

Alicia looked up, guilt all over her face, as she searched for an answer.

"I hardly think that's of any importance at the moment," Rhiannon said.

He scowled at her, but nodded. "What about the man? What did he look like?"

She lowered her head. "He looked...hard. Strong. He was tall and had dark hair...and he walked with a cane."

Jameson closed his eyes as if in pain.

"What is it?"

"That was Willem Stone, the man I hired to watch over the girls."

Alicia clapped a hand to her mouth as fresh tears welled in her eyes. "Oh my God! I didn't know. We...we didn't know."

"We're aware of that," Rhiannon said. "Go on, child."

Alicia nodded. "I didn't think we should approach the vampiress, but Amber said she thought the woman was okay. So she told her about the man following us."

"And what did she do?"

Alicia sniffled. "I didn't think she would, at first, but as soon as she realized who Amber was, she agreed to help. She told us to just go back to our hotel, that she would take care of it. At least, that is what Amber told me. They didn't speak to each other out loud, you know?"

The teapot squealed. Rhiannon started to rise, but Roland placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll get it." And to Alicia, "Go on."

"We-we left the club. And he followed us, just as he'd been doing. But she followed him. Oh, God, I didn't know he was only trying to protect us."

"What did she do to him, Alicia?" Jameson asked. He stood beside her chair, his hands clenched into fists.

"She...we saw her-she fed from him."

"Killed him?" Rhiannon asked.

"I don't know! Amber didn't think so. She-the lady-she tossed him into a limousine and took him away. We thought our problems were over, but then we got back to the hotel. Amber wanted to search his room, to try to find out what he was up to. So we did, and we found these headphones, and when we listened to them we could hear voices. Men's voices. They were coming from our own room, next door." She sucked in a spasmodic gulp of air. "They were waiting for us!"

Roland set the tea in front of her. Rhiannon thought it fortunate he'd cooled it with tap water or she would have burned her mouth, as quickly as she gulped from the cup.

"We thought he must be working with them." Alicia's tears flowed like rivers.

"But you eluded them," Rhiannon prompted.

"We took the stairs and used the rear entrance. And then we made our way here. We thought it was safe here. But they found a note in Amber's jeans pocket back at the hotel. The address was on it. They smashed the door in, and they took Amber."

"How long ago?" Jameson asked.

"It was about midmorning. We'd been up late, and we were still sleeping, but it must have been...I don't know. Maybe 10:00 a.m."

Angelica winced as she glanced at the kitchen clock.

"It doesn't mean anything," Roland told her. "You know as well as I that they'll want to keep Amber alive."

"And you know as well as I what they want to keep her alive for!" Angelica shot to her feet, gripping Jameson by the front of his shirt. ' 'We have to find her."

"We will." He covered her hands with his, lifted them to his lips, kissed her knuckles. "I swear to you, we will.

"Alicia, I want you to remember everything you heard from the moment those men came in until they left with Amber. Did they say anything-anything- about where they were taking her?"

"No. Nothing." She closed her eyes. Then popped them open again. "Wait. There was something... something about an ancestral home in...oh, God, help me remember." She squeezed her eyes closed very tightly, screwing up her face as if trying to force the memory out. "It was like an inside joke, the way they said it. Amber's ancestors, not their own, they said. And they laughed."

Jameson frowned hard, staring from Rhiannon to Roland to Angelica.

"Connecticut!" Alicia burst out. "Brian or Byron or..."

"Byram," Jameson said.

"My God, Eric's old place," Roland said.

"Then you know? You know where they've taken her?"

Angelica searched Jameson's eyes, her own echoing Alicia's hopeful question. Jameson nodded. 'Yes."

"We'll go at once," Rhiannon said, rising to her feet.

"There are one or two things to consider first," Roland said, taking her hand. "We'll need to get Alicia to safety. We'll have to arrange for shelter in Byram, in case we can't get Amber out before sunrise. And I should think we'll want to find the strange vampiress, learn what she's done with this Stone fellow."

Rhiannon thought she would rather enjoy dealing with the addle-minded vampiress who had attacked the girls' bodyguard, leaving them defenseless against the vampire hunters. Then she modified her thoughts. Amber Lily was anything but defenseless. "This vampiress, Alicia. Remind me, what was her name?"

Alicia lifted her head. "The one Amber told you about on the phone. Sarafina."

Rhiannon's eyes narrowed.

"You know her?" Angelica asked.

"I've heard of her. I make it my business to know what other immortals haunt the places where I live."

"She may not have killed him after all," Jameson said. "I believe they have...a history. What else do you know about her, Rhiannon?'' he asked.

"She's a hermit, keeps to herself in a palatial estate north of the city."

"We can't take time to search for her now. Not even for the sake of this Willem Stone," Angelica said. "God only knows what they might be doing to my baby. We have to go to her. Now.''

Rhiannon stared at Alicia. "Darling, are you certain they didn't know you were hiding in the room when they said what they did?''

Alicia nodded. "Amber told them I'd gone home. They wondered why she hadn't gone with me, but then they just assumed it was because of the daylight. She didn't correct them."

Rhiannon sent Roland a glance and a message. It's too easy. Something's wrong.

He heard her thoughts just as clearly as if she had spoken them aloud, and from the worried frown he returned, she thought he agreed. But she knew, as he did, that they had to go. They had no choice.

"For the love of God, what's happened?" a woman's voice asked from the next room.

Alicia surged to her feet. "Mom?"

Susan came hurrying into the kitchen. Alicia met her in the doorway, hurling herself into her mother's arms, weeping all over again. "I got your message at the spa, caught the first flight out. What on earth is going on?''

"We'll explain it all in the car. You...you do have a car here, don't you, Rhiannon?" Jameson asked.

"Several, in the garage in back." She left the room and returned with several sets of keys. She didn't speak again until they were in the garage. Rhiannon's private collection of cars could only be accessed by punching a combination into a keypad. Once inside, she went on. "I would suggest you two take the Ferrari," she said, tossing one set of keys to Susan. "It will outrun just about anything on the roads. Go to Eric and Tamara's place in Virginia. You remember how to find it?"

Susan nodded, turned and pressed the button on the keyring to unlock the small red Ferrari. Alicia hugged Angelica. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry,"

"I know, darling. It's not your fault."

Alicia sniffled, then glanced at Rhiannon. "Get Amber back."

"Don't doubt it, Alicia. We will."

When Willem woke, he felt as if he'd been on a three-day drunk. His head alternated between swimming and throbbing, and when he got to his feet, he fell over. God, his balance was shot to hell, and his bad foot was screaming. He hadn't had pain meds since he'd been here.

He had been dressed, possibly bathed, as well, but he didn't want to think about that. He was barefoot, and he didn't see his shoes anywhere nearby, much less his cane. But he wasn't chained, and he knew beyond any doubt that if he didn't get the hell out of here-now-he might never. This might be his only chance. He wasn't sure how many more times he could play the lovesick zombie convincingly.

Bullshit. It was easy, pal. Maybe a little bit too easy.

He shook away the voice in his head, told himself it didn't mean a damn thing that he hadn't really had to do all that much acting. Hell, he was a red-blooded man-assuming he had enough left in his veins to qualify. She was a beautiful, desirable woman. Even if she was a vampire. He would have to be considerably deader than she was not to want her. He would have to be ten years in the grave. It didn't mean he was becoming addicted to her. This was normal physical attraction. Powerful, yes. Hell, he'd loved the woman-loved her before he'd ever met her. But not anymore, not after what she had tried to do to him.

Only, that was a lie, and he knew it. There was something powerful gnawing at his belly that he didn't want to examine too closely. Just let it gnaw. Maybe it would get its fill. And if it didn't, hell, then maybe it was the blood. The addiction thing. A weakened version of the spell she'd cast over her two lap-dogs. It hadn't taken him over, as it had them. He wasn't sure why; maybe his will was too strong. But anything that felt like an emotional attachment to the woman must surely be because of it. She'd held him against his will, for God's sake, tried to make him her slave.

He lurched unsteadily to the door, tried the knob, found it unlocked. When he opened it and peered out, he saw no one. Just a long hallway, lined by an Oriental runner that was mostly red. The better to conceal the bloodstains of her victims, he told himself, even though he knew it wasn't true. She wasn't the villainess he wished he could believe she was. He followed the runner to the top of a staircase that widened at the bottom. Gripping the dark hardwood railing, he made his way down.

At the bottom he had to look up, because the room was like something out of Lifestyles of the Ancient and Immortal. Rich dark woods, vibrant colors, a chandelier the size of a compact car. Jesus, she liked the good life. He heard a murmur of voices and jerked his head to the left.

Edward and Misty were talking low, somewhere in the bowels of the house. Fine by him. He wasn't going that way. He walked unevenly forward, through the giant archway, into the foyer and through it to the solid double doors at its end. No glass in them. The lady liked her privacy. He gripped the brass handle and turned it.

It wasn't locked.

It struck him as odd, for just a moment, that Sarafina would leave her home unlocked. And that thought sparked another-just where the hell was she right now?

A chill chased a shiver up his spine, and he glanced over his shoulder. No one. He was getting jumpy, that was all. He opened the door and looked outside.

A lopsided moon poured milky light over the wide stone steps, the huge urns of flowers on either side and the flagstone path beyond them. There was a long curving driveway, with a gate at the end. That gate worried him. Tall wrought iron, suspended between twin stone pillars. He stumbled down the steps and started along the path to the driveway, then down the driveway to the gate. On either side of him, rows of carefully pruned hedges lined the way.

When he got to the gate, he stopped worrying. Those hedges, ten feet tall here, made right angles at the gate and marched out in either direction like a wall. Just hedges. No fence. He paused for just a moment to turn and look back at the house. It glared back at him, huge and magnificent, and he almost got the feeling it was saying good riddance.

Shaking off the eerie feeling, he pushed his way between the left side of the gate and the hedge fence. And then he discovered why Sarafina didn't think she needed a fence. The hedges were thorny. Sharp little daggers ripped into him, but he'd come too goddamn far to give up now, so he pushed through.

Thorns tore his skin. One jabbed him in his good foot, making him hop hard on the bad one, and a flash of blinding pain shot through him.

And with the pain came an image, very brief, but just as clear as springwater. Sarafina, sitting on the ground in the middle of a vast garden, with fountains and statuary all around her. Bathed in moonlight, she was leaning on the base of a stone image, head resting on her folded arms, her face hidden. And she was weeping.

Then he was jerked back to reality again as he emerged from the hedge on the far side and fell to the ground, hitting it hard. The impact knocked the wind out of him. Knocked that vision out of him, too, thank God. For a moment he'd felt this insane urge to go to her and make her explain herself. Who the hell was she, anyway? The manipulative, controlling, blood drinker, or the vulnerable, tenderhearted girl he'd known first? He still caught glimpses of that girl when Sarafina let her guard down. He felt her when they made love. He wanted her back, dammit.

It didn't matter. And though his heart ached and every emotion in it told him to go to her, his head and his survival instinct told him to keep moving and to get as far from this place as he could. He was torn for just a moment. Then his sense of duty kicked in to tip the balance. He had promised to protect two young women from harm. His first priority, above anything else, was to find Amber Lily and Alicia, and to make sure they were still safe.

He pulled himself to his feet, continuing to limp along the private driveway until he finally reached a public road. Then he flagged down the first car that passed by standing in front of it and refusing to budge even when it nearly ran him down. He demanded a ride to the nearest place with a telephone.

The driver, once he figured out that Will wasn't a criminal looking to steal his car or his wallet, suggested he take Will to the nearest hospital instead. He must have looked pretty bad. Since the guy was so willing to help, Will had him drive into the city and drop him at his apartment building. He wanted to go straight to the hotel to check on the girls, but he didn't have a room key or any ID-his wallet must have been somewhere back at Sarafina's place-and he sure as hell wasn't going to convince anyone to let him into a four-star hotel looking the way he did.

He pounded on the super's door.

It opened, eventually, and the sleepy-looking, unshaven Senor Del Orto squinted up at him. "Stone? What the hell happened? You get mugged?"

"Yeah, something like that. They got my keys, and I can't get back into my place without 'em."

Del Orto lowered his head, shaking it. "You want me to call the police?" He frowned at Will's face, looked him up and down. "An ambulance, maybe?"

"No, I just want you to let me into my apartment."

"No problem, no problem. Just a minute, okay?" He closed the door, undid the chain, then opened it again, holding a set of keys this time. ' 'You take the key," he said, prying one loose from the hundred or so on the ring. "Slide it under my door when you're finished, all right?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"De nada," he said, and he started to close the door again, then paused. "You sure you don't need a doctor, man?"

"It looks worse than it is."

"If you say so. I'll get your locks changed tomorrow, okay?"

He closed the door, and Will made his way to the elevator and up to his apartment. The key worked. He headed straight for the bathroom and his pain meds. Popped one and washed it down with tap water. He would have preferred to down two, but he knew that would make him too damn drowsy to do much good. He glanced at himself in the mirror as he waited for the pills to kick in. His skin was shockingly pale, and the dark red scratches that road-mapped his face made it seem even paler. Sighing, he ran some water into the basin and made quick work of washing up. Then he located socks and shoes, a jacket, some spare cash and his extra set of car keys. He downed a protein drink and headed right back out.

By the time a taxi dropped him at the hotel, he thought he looked relatively normal, if still deathly white. He was dizzy and weak, but the pain was starting to ebb thanks to the wonders of better living through chemicals.

They gave him a spare key to his room at the front desk, and he went up, itching and eager to see the girls safely asleep in their beds.

But when he got there and slipped their lock, he found no sign of them at all. In fact, the room looked as if it had been searched. Thoroughly.

Jesus.

He hurried to his own room. While he sensed someone had been there, it wasn't trashed. Things just were not exactly as he thought he had left them. But then again, he wasn't at full capacity, either. He could be mistaken.

He opened the dresser drawer, pawed aside the contents and found what he was looking for. The little electronic tracking device. He flipped it on, nothing happened.

Either the tracker he'd planted in Amber Lily's bag wasn't functioning or it was out of range. Hell. He didn't know what to do next and was sure of only one thing-he couldn't stay awake much longer. Goddamn, the blood drinking had left him weak. Not to mention the lovemaking.

For a moment he was back there, in his mind. Exploring Sarafina's mouth with his own, her body with his own. She'd been delicious and eager and something else. Vulnerable, somehow, in a way that had surprised him. As if he had the power to destroy her with his touches, his kisses, his fevered declarations of undying love.

But that was stupid. She didn't give a damn what he felt. What he said. She couldn't possibly give a damn. She wanted to control him, like a puppet who would dance according to her whim. It hadn't felt that way, during the heights of passion, but he knew it was the truth. She'd certainly tried her damnedest to make it happen.

He pushed thoughts of Sarafina from his mind and realized that he had to phone Jameson Bryant. He was going to have to tell the man that he'd lost track of his precious daughter, fucked up the job, and had no idea where she was.

But the telephone rang and rang. There was no answer.

Will lay down on the bed in his hotel room, just for a moment. Just long enough to clear his head, to think of the smartest next move. But in the wee hours of morning, he fell asleep.

And he dreamed of Sarafina.