§ § § -- January 15, 1999

Leslie wasn't sure at first what she would awaken to. She was afraid to open her eyes, but her ears strained for any sound. To her surprise, she got one—and clear as a bell, too. She forced her eyes to stay open long enough to try to locate the source, and got another shock: normal vision. What had happened?

Another sound reached her ears: a voice, Mariki's. "Are you very sure about this weekend, sir? Miss Julie said she would help."

Roarke's voice responded, "I am positive, Mariki. There will be no fantasies granted till there is some positive change in Leslie's condition. You had better get word to Julie before she calls asking yet again. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Leslie listened to Roarke's footfalls on the steps, thinking with swelling hope that he had sounded very much like his usual self. Suddenly she wanted to know everything. When Roarke stepped into the room, she twisted her head around to see him, and he stopped short in the doorway, staring, then lighting up like a chandelier.

"Leslie…ah, Leslie! How do you feel, child?" he exclaimed softly, settling down on the edge of her bed and folding her hand between both of his.

Leslie opened her mouth, hesitated, then let out a prolonged "ah" sound that, to her utter surprise, came out clearly. "Thank heavens. My voice works too. I feel fine, actually, Father. What's happened? What've I missed?"

"Two days, for starters," Roarke said laughingly, his voice slightly shaky in his great relief. "You were deeply unconscious throughout all that time, and I was very worried about you. It appears you have recovered in full somehow."

Leslie was reminded then. "Father, what's karnise?" she asked.

Roarke's eyebrows popped up. "Karnise?" he echoed.

"That's what Paola was injecting into me," she explained.

Recognition filled Roarke's features and he closed his eyes, involuntarily squeezing Leslie's hand in sudden anger. "So that's what it was—and that's why she repeatedly asked me for more of that elixir," he said. He focused on Leslie. "Perhaps we had better start from the beginning, so that this makes more sense."

"Please do," she said. "Curiosity's eating me alive here."

He smiled fleetingly. "The migraine treatment I made for Paola consists of a number of rare ingredients," he said, "of the sort that can be found only here on the island. But it is a base agent—in other words, with the addition of any of a large number of other items, it can be made into almost anything one desires. In this case, Paola added ground amakarna to the mixture: that's what made it karnise, and karnise is harmful to humans in more than small doses. Normally it is used as a sleep aid."

"That's why it knocked me out," Leslie realized, and Roarke nodded. "It must be toxic if you administer enough of it. Paola kept saying she was going to make sure she killed me using the stuff." Her mind jumped tracks, so that she missed the flash of sheer rage that came and went in a split second on Roarke's features. "Harmful to humans," Leslie said slowly. "Father…who exactly was Paola anyway? At one point you made reference to 'the average human being' in regard to her, and then the first time I woke up from the effects of the karnise, Paola said she might have used too much for a 'mere mortal'. She's not quite human, is she?"

Roarke closed his eyes again and turned his head away somewhat, a weary, shamed look settling in. "Paola is one of my people, Leslie," he said gently. "That is why she had such power over me. She caught me entirely unaware; she had never shown evidence of any powers while she was my assistant. I knew then that she had many problems, but she was much different at the time. In the intervening years she must have acquired a great deal of knowledge…from whom, I don't know. But she used her proximity to me to control my perception of her."

"So how did you finally get back to yourself?" Leslie asked.

"Lack of that very proximity," said Roarke. "In hindsight, she grew too certain of herself and her power over both of us, and I sensed it even at the time, without fully realizing it. She thought she had me firmly under her control, and spent that time in her attempt to murder you. She was thirty miles from here and was gone too long, and in the end her influence faded away, allowing me to think clearly once more."

"Thirty miles," Leslie breathed. "Where did she take me?" She listened wide-eyed as Roarke explained how he and four of her friends had collaborated to rescue Leslie from Paola's clutches, how he had banished her from the island, and how Mariki had stepped in where Leslie's own mother might have done, bathing her, washing her hair, dressing her in clean nightwear and making her comfortable in her own bed.

"Mariki did all that?" Leslie asked, astonished.

Roarke nodded, smiling, and smoothed her hair back a little. "She's very fond of you, child," he said. "It was she who first suggested your disappearance was suspicious, and she became very upset with me—after all, I was still under the mental veil that Paola had drawn. There were a few moments when I was on the verge of firing her, and she knew it."

"Don't you dare fire her," Leslie warned, grinning, feeling tears stinging her throat and the backs of her eyes even as she spoke. "That lady's a treasure."

"Indeed she is," Roarke agreed wholeheartedly.

"Did you know that Paola is Marina's sister?" Leslie asked suddenly. "That's why she wanted to kill me. She had the notion that as long as I was alive, Christian could cling to his hopes that he and I could still be together; whereas if I were dead, he'd have to face facts and shift his feelings to Marina. She blamed me for Marina not having a happy marriage."

Roarke shook his head slowly. "She is ill, Leslie, in more ways than one."

"I know," Leslie said. "When I found out who she was, I knew she had the same terminal disease Marina does. Marina told me her father and sister both had it, and it was easy to draw the natural conclusion."

"She is mentally ill also," Roarke said. "I am afraid there is no more cure for that than there is for the physical ailment. However, she is beyond any help we could give her, and all we can do is go on." He paused, indicating a change of subject. "I canceled this weekend's fantasies due to your condition…"

"I heard," Leslie told him. "Listen, if I can get up and walk normally, will you revoke the cancellation?"

Roarke laughed softly. "That eager to return to work, are you? Actually, child, I think it best if you take one more day to rest. You've been through a great deal and I want to be certain you're completely recovered. Do you feel up to eating?"

"I'm starving," Leslie realized with great surprise. "I suppose you're going to insist that I eat here in my room."

Roarke grinned. "That may not be necessary. In fact, there are some people who are very eager to see you, and I thought you would enjoy a lunch date here with your friends."

Leslie lit up. "That sounds wonderful!" She sat up, exerting just a little extra effort, and hugged him. "I'm so glad all this is over."

"I failed you, my child," Roarke said softly, holding her close. "I should have been better prepared…"

"You couldn't have known," Leslie said flatly, "and as you said, she caught you off guard. She could see I knew she was trouble, but that's the weird thing—since I'm just a regular old human being, the only way she could control me was to try to kill me. Father, don't beat yourself up about it. You threw her off the island, and I'm back to normal, and so are you. Can we just move forward and dispense with placing blame?"

He smiled at her, his dark eyes teasing. "Where did you get that wisdom?"

"I had the world's best teacher," she told him proudly and grinned back. "Let's have some lunch, shall we?"

"It will be just you and the other girls," Roarke said. "I need to make several phone calls, so I'll be here in the study." He stood up and gave her a hand, and she slipped out of the bed, clearly raring to go.

On his way down the stairs, he abruptly felt unaccountably weary; and his stomach felt as if he'd eaten far too much, despite the fact that he had had nothing since breakfast some six hours before. Roarke paused halfway down and frowned, wide-eyed with surprise. Had he caught something, somewhere? He took a few more steps down and his knees came very close to buckling under him.

Too much has happened in the past several days, he told himself. Perhaps I should take the same advice I gave Leslie and rest for the day. He hated to admit it, but the fact remained that he had been through a tough ordeal, as much as Leslie had. They both needed time for healing. But, if his ordeal had been mental, why was he experiencing physical effects?

Roarke firmly shut out the twinge of disquiet he felt and straightened up before crossing the study. The weariness subsided, to his relief. Yes, it was just the effects of what Paola had put him through. He smiled faintly and thought he might have lunch with Leslie and her friends after all.

Paola may have been defeated, but she's left more of a legacy than anyone yet suspects. And when they do find out, it's a whopper! More to come…