"Hartwood was an old mining town. He'd have to have enough people to cover the main players—barman, saloon girls, general store owner, preacher, people like that. At least a dozen, at a guess. And it is a guess, remember that. I have no idea what path his magic has taken."

"How can he possibly manage all that magic and still control all those people? Surely it would sap his strength?"

"It would, but all he would have to do is perform regular sacrifices, and his strength would be maintained."

"Meaning I might also have to try and stop those sacrifices?"

"Yes."

Great. She worried her lip for a moment then asked, “What about Michael? He has a strong mind and strong shields. How on earth would Weylin force him to play this little game?"

"Weylin tried to kill you. If he could enforce the belief that he had into Michael's mind, then he would put Michael in the same frame of mind that he was in a century ago."

"That doesn't answer my question.” She and Michael had their connection—he would know, deep down, she wasn't dead.

"It would take magic to enforce the role-playing. If what we've discovered on Lenny and Nadia is any indication, you will discover symbols painted on and around his spine."

"Meaning all I have to do is erase those symbols, and he'll be free of Weylin's magic?"

"Again, I fear it is not that simple."

"Nothing ever is,” she muttered.

Amusement filled Seline's voice as she said, “Not when it comes to magic, I'm afraid." Nikki sighed. “So, what's the problem in this case?"

"It's twofold. First, the symbols will be inked into his skin, and they will need to be washed with a special soap before they start to fade."

"Meaning we take lots of baths?"

"This is a ghost town, remember,” Camille commented, amusement touching her thin lips. “It won't have running water, let alone hot running water."

"Guess that means electricity will also be at a premium?"

"Hartwood did have power a century ago, but I'm guessing only the section where the rangers stay would have power now,” Camille said. “And it wouldn't be necessary for any of Weylin's spells." Nikki rubbed a hand across her eyes. She'd roughed it on the streets as a teenager, but her teenage years were long ago, and she was well and truly used to life's little luxuries—water on tap, hot food, clean sheets. It was sounding like those were going to be a little sparse on the ground. “Am I able to take anything in with me?"

"Weylin has provided a list of what can and can't be taken in. Candles, matches and a small camp oven are on the list. But we'll try and sneak some soap in, as well."

"What about food?"

"He has apparently stocked the general store, probably because I had a lot to do with the store owner." Nikki had a feeling she didn't want to know the exact details of that. “So, what's the second problem with removing the symbols from Michael's back?"

"Michael himself."

Nikki's eyebrows rose. “Why?"

"He will be role-playing, remember, and will see you as me. He and I were never intimate, though my role as saloon girl meant we did share a kiss or three." Seline paused, as if waiting for a reaction. Nikki shrugged, even though she knew Seline couldn't see the gesture. Michael had told her many times he and Seline had never been sexually intimate, and Nikki trusted the truth of his words. But he'd never said they hadn't kissed or touched, and she'd be a fool to think otherwise.

After another second of silence, Seline continued, “While instinctively he will be drawn to you, he will fight it, because deep down he knows that he and I never happened."

"So that's another way of maybe tripping the spell—dragging him into bed."

"Possibly. But one thing you should remember—the Michael you meet in Hartwood will not be your Michael. He will be rougher, harder."

How much rougher and harder could he be than when she'd first met him? He'd been so close to edge, so close to becoming one with the darkness, back then. And though he'd only really threatened her once, it was something she was never likely to forget.

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Plenty. But Camille will fill you in on the rest of it.” Seline paused and added softly. “Bring him home safely, Nikki."

She intended to.

After all, they had a wedding planned.

Chapter Four

Nikki squatted on her heels and studied the ramshackle town sitting in the heart of the windswept hills of sagebrush that surrounded them.

Hartwell was bigger than what she'd expected and better maintained, though, in many ways, that wasn't surprising. The town and surrounding hills were a California State Historic Park—though what had happened to the rangers living here was, at this stage, anyone's guess. Maybe Weylin had forcibly enlisted them into his mad schemes.

There were probably a good fifty or sixty houses down there that could be described as being in a reasonable state—at least from this distance. There were another thirty or so that had either half or fully given way to the elements. Most of the buildings were wooden and the streets dirt, though a couple of the streets still had wooden sidewalks that snaked past the buildings. What was surprising were the people—there had to be at least twenty visible—some walking along the streets, some tending to horses, and others walking back from the skeletal mining structure situated halfway up one of the hills. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn this town was still functioning rather than having been abandoned a hundred years ago.

What she couldn't see was any form of a barrier.

She glanced at Camille. The older woman was standing several feet to her right, her red shirt clashing brightly with the clear blue sky.

"Looks like I can walk right on down there."

Camille sniffed. “You can try, but I doubt you'd succeed. See them black stones down near that sign below us?"

Nikki nodded.

"If you follow it along several feet either way, you'll see more black stones. They're warding or protection stones, and will ring the whole town. When placed in certain sequences they can provide protection against either magic, evil, or, in this case, good."

"These are a hell of a lot bigger than any of the stones we've been shown in class."

"That's because the circle of protection needs to be a whole lot bigger." Nikki studied the nearest stones for a minute, noting the way the black surface seemed to swallow rather than reflect the sunlight. “So why can't we just go down there and scatter the stones?" Camille raised an eyebrow. “Didn't you just say you took the class on that?"

"Yes.” But she'd been half asleep, because Michael had whisked her off to San Francisco the night before to celebrate her passing the first section of the course. They'd partied, and then they'd made love all night...

Swallowing the anguish that rose swift and fast, she let her gaze search the streets again. No sign of Michael anywhere. No sensation of where he might be. She clenched her fists, resisting the temptation to just go down there and start looking. There were still twenty minutes to wait before the so-called door opened.

"Then you'll know that a circle this size cannot be destroyed by brute force. And it'll take time to do so by magic."

Meaning she was on her own for longer than any of them wanted. She bit her lip for a moment, then rose, her long skirt swirling around her booted feet, stirring dust. “I'd better grab my packs and head down there, just in case the door opens early."

"It won't."

She knew that, but she couldn't stay here, doing nothing, for another second. Lifting her skirt a little, she walked down the long slope to the small camp that had been set up in the hollow between two hills. There were probably a dozen people and tents down here, but there was really only one other person she wanted to see right now.

Jake glanced up as she approached. “I've packed everything that's on the list. I just hope the weather doesn't close in, because the sleeping roll may not keep you warm if it does." Nikki shrugged and picked up the first of the packs. It felt like she was slinging a load of rocks over her shoulder. “Then I'm just going to have to convince Michael to keep me warm with body heat." Jake gave her the sort of look a parent does a wayward child. “Don't expect too much at the beginning. Remember what—"

"I remember,” she cut in tartly. “But I just don't think magic can ever entirely erase what we share.”

Recognition would be there, even if it was buried deep. And come hell or high water, she was going to bring that recognition to the surface as soon as she could.

"There's one thing that's got me puzzled,” she added, glancing at Camille as she adjusted the straps. “If Weylin needs to follow what happened a century ago for this ceremony of his, how come everyone in town is wandering around in reasonably modern clothing?” Or at least, the men were. The one woman she'd seen had been wearing an outfit that looked as if it belonged in a bordello. She'd been mighty glad to have been allowed a skirt and shirt once she'd seen that outfit.

"Except for Hartwell itself, it is the events that are important rather than the environment.” Camille held out her hand. “Better give me that ring."

Nikki glanced down at her engagement ring. Somehow, the act of taking it off felt like a betrayal, yet she could hardly wear it when doing so might give away who she really was. She tugged it off and placed it in the old witch's palm. God, her hand felt naked without it. “I'll be back for that in four days."

"Make sure that you are.” The ring disappeared and a cell phone took its place. “Slip this inside your skirt. Your bags will probably be searched the first day, so keep the phone on you until after that happens."

"Will the phone work in there?"

"I don't see why not. Weylin couldn't afford to completely cut off the town, or he'd have people out here investigating."

She nodded and slipped the phone into her skirt pocket. Jake lifted the second pack, then pulled Nikki forward and hugged her fiercely. “Take care in there."

"I will.” She hugged him back just as fiercely, all too aware that if things went wrong in Hartwell, she might not see him again. After a while, she pulled back and added, “Not that any of you can do anything if things should go haywire."

"He won't kill you or Michael,” Camille commented. “He needs you both alive for the ceremony."

" If he is trying to raise his brother. You have no real proof that's his goal." "Seline says it is, and that's good enough for me.” Camille grabbed Nikki's hand, her fingers like cold parchment against Nikki's skin.

"Here,” she added, placing something cool and metallic into Nikki's hand. “Take this. We found it in the van."

Nikki's mouth went dry. It was the silver cross she had given Michael when they'd first met.

"It may help jog his memory—if you can get him to wear it." Not trusting herself to speak, Nikki nodded. She wrapped her fingers around the chain and felt the tingle of energy run up her arm. The images from the cross came through muted, as if viewed from a distance and distorted by layers of dusty glass.

But she could feel him. Feel his anger. His despair. Seline was right. Deep inside, he thought her dead, and the agony of it was tearing him apart.

Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away and spun around. “Let's get this over with." The three of them walked down to the single white stone that indicated the entrance. Jake dumped the pack at her feet and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Someone's headed this way,” he commented.

Someone who looked a lot like the gnarled van driver, Nikki thought, eyeing the lean figure apprehensively. He walked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and even from this distance, the sense of his evil was something that crawled across her skin. Goose bumps fled down her spine. Swallowing to ease the sudden dryness in her throat, she glanced at Camille. “You'd better retreat. The note said I was the only one to be here."

"Yes.” The old witch paused, and then she gripped Nikki's shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Good luck. And remember, once you enter that place, you are Seline, not Nikki. Never once can you say your real name, in fear that Weylin will hear."

Nikki nodded. “I'll remember."

"When you can, call me, or if you need some words of wisdom. Ain't nothing much else I can offer once you go under the barrier.” Camille squeezed her shoulder a final time, then turned and walked back up the hill.

Nikki's gaze met Jake's. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them needed to. With a smile that was more a grimace, Jake kissed her forehead, and then quickly followed Camille. Nikki had never felt so alone in her life. Had never felt as frightened. Crossing her arms, she watched the slow approach of the wizened figure. He stopped ten feet away and glanced at his watch. He didn't say anything, just stood there, waiting. Given little other choice, she did the same.

After a while, energy began to buzz the air, standing the hairs on her arms on end. The old man glanced at his watch again, then motioned her forward.

Nikki picked up the second pack and walked to the right of the white rock. The tingling in the air grew stronger, slithering across her skin with the warm stickiness of blood. Every step became an effort, and the buzzing grew so loud it thundered through her head, matching the rhythm of her heart. Then it was gone, and she stumbled forward several steps before regaining her balance. The old man snorted. “I would have expected a little more grace from an old witch." She straightened and met his gaze. His eyes were the gray of ghosts. “Why?" His gaze slid down her body, becoming heated. Disgust shimmied through her. Old lecher ...