Note: Please see Prologue for warning, copyright and disclaimer information.

Lower Levels

We followed Brenda as she walked briskly down the hall, but at one point something caught Mac's eye and he slowed, pulling me with him. I turned to see what he was looking at, and stopped with him.

Through a window in one of the doors we could see daylight. Not real daylight, but as close to it as I've ever seen. There were real trees and flowers inside the room, and I could see birds flying between the branches.

"Would you like to go inside?" Brenda asked, her voice nicer than I'd ever heard it.

"Maybe later," Mac said regretfully. "It looks wonderful."

"Hmm, it is," she replied with a smile. "Bruce enjoyed it a great deal."

Who the hell is Bruce?

"I haven't seen the daylight since Ramadan," Mac added.

I looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He glanced down with a smile.

"Of course that was artificial as well," he told me before focusing his attention back on Brenda and leading me after her.

I waited in the doorway of a very large room filled with racks and shelves that held every kind of gun I'd ever seen in my life, and quite a few more. Everything was neatly categorized and labeled, and there was enough ammo to start a damned war. From what I could tell, about half of it was either silver or phosphorous.

Mac picked up several smaller rifles and examined them, almost as if looking for something specific. Finally he seemed to find what he was looking for, and grabbed a much larger rifle from another rack. He picked up ammo for both weapons, and met Brenda back at the doorway where she was filling out some kind of form. When she was done, he signed it too, and we were off to the firing range.

The range was set up in a very large room. There were a couple of long lanes set up, and several short ones. Brenda went to one of the shorter ones and began to load her weapon. Mac led me to the longer lanes and handed me a pair of safety glasses that I twirled on my finger until he told me to put them on.

He handed me a set of earmuffs, then put on his own protection. He gestured for me to load the crossbow, and with a simple motion, I did. When he pointed at the target, I turned and fired. Dead center. Man, I love the crossbow.

I looked back at Mac, wondering exactly why we were doing this. I already knew how to shoot a crossbow; hell, I could do it blindfolded if I had to.

"Load it again," he told me. When I had, he added, "Close your eyes."

Well, I said I could do it blindfolded. I closed my eyes.

"Now do the same," he instructed. "Keep your eyes closed."

I wondered if he remembered that I used to practice this shot in Baltimore. Nowadays I don't practice it; I live it. I turned and fired the crossbow at where I knew the target to be then I waited.

He took the bow from my hand and I heard him load it. He put it back in my hand, but it didn't quite feel the same.

"Again," he said quickly.

Trusting him, I fired at the target and was very surprised to hear the sound of a gun going off in my hands. My eyes shot open to see that I was holding the damned rifle he'd picked up, the smaller one. I looked at him questioningly.

"Congratulations," he drawled. "You just fired a gun successfully."

Sure enough, there was a bullet hole on the target an inch or so to the left of the two crossbow quarrels. "Okay, but I can't have my eyes closed when we're in combat," I told him. It wouldn't do to shoot my friends.

He took the gun and pulled back on the bolt to bring another round into the chamber. "Try it with your eyes open."

I took the gun back, but I wasn't sure I could hit the target now that I knew what I was firing.

"Think of it like the crossbow," he told me. "Aim the same—"

"It's not a crossbow," I said stubbornly. "It's louder."

"Think of it as a crossbow—"

"It's louder," I repeated irritably. Wasn't he listening to me? I couldn't do what he wanted me to; guns weren't my weapon of choice for a reason.

"Think of it as a crossbow," he said, his firm voice leaving no room for my protests. "Aim the same, think the same."

Damn, he wasn't going to give up until I did what he wanted. I lifted the gun to my shoulder and fired at the target, but barely caught the edge of the paper target.

"I don't think that would kill it," I told him dryly, not that these regular rounds would kill much more than other hunters or mages.

He took the gun and showed me how to work the bolt. "Keep trying," he ordered me.

I shook my head and turned back to the target. Maybe he was right about this. Maybe we had been going about this wrong. Maybe I could learn to shoot. I imagined that the target was Kate and squeezed the trigger. To my surprise, I hit near the center of the target. Not a killing shot for most things, but it might give me time to fire again.

Still picturing Kate on the receiving end of the bullets, I emptied the gun. When I was done, almost every hole was inside one of the middle two circles on the target.

Mac smiled as he took the gun from me and showed me how to load it. He was obviously proud of himself, and on impulse I reached up to kiss him as he handed the gun back to me.

"Practice," he told me with a grin. "Let me know when you're ready for something else."

What did he have in mind? "Like?"

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handgun.

"I remember we tried that and it didn't work," I reminded him.

"But now you have a basic idea," he told me as he put it back away.

While I practiced on the smaller rifle, he picked up the big one. We shot in silence for a while, reloading and emptying the guns into the targets. Eventually, he handed me the big gun.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked him in surprise.

"Try it."

"This is going to kick a little worse, isn't it?" I said warily.

He unbuttoned his shirt and showed me a large bruise on his shoulder. I winced; his would be gone in the morning—ah, evening, but I'd have that thing for a few days. I couldn't afford to be that sore, and after playing the happy meal earlier, I didn't want to have to waste any blood to heal. Then again, he'd been shooting it for half an hour now; I was just firing it once. Maybe one shot wouldn't bruise me that bad.

I tried to prepare for the recoil, but it still knocked me back a foot. I looked at him. "Ow."

He took the rifle back, smiling. "Are you ready for the something else?"

"Sure," I said, although I wasn't. "Maybe I could get Brenda from here."

"Now, now," he scolded, "I won't let that happen." He popped the clip and emptied it on the counter in front of me, then loaded it with other rounds and scooped up the ones he'd emptied. He handed me the gun, then moved behind me, showing me how to hold the gun with his hands over mine.

How the hell was I supposed to concentrate with him this close to me? The touch of his cold skin set mine on fire. I barely listened to most of his explanations, but when he told me to shoot, I did and actually hit the target.

When he told me to continue, and I kept squeezing the trigger slowly, trying to aim between each shot. After a few shots he let go of my hand and stepped away, but I kept firing. Finally the gun clicked empty.

He took the gun and loaded the clip again, then handed it back to me by the barrel. It didn't occur to me until later that he was showing me once again just how much he trusted me by handing me the gun that way. I took the gun and turned back to the target.

When he was finally convinced that I could fire the pistol as easily as the rifle, he told me I could stop. "Now we need to get you one of your own."

I shook my head. "I can't afford one of my own," I told him. "Stakes are cheap."

"Which one did you like better?" he asked, ignoring my comment. "The rifle or handgun?"

"The hand gun," I replied simply. It was a lot easier to hide.

"And it wasn't so hard," he said smugly. "We'll teach Corrine that when we get back."

I looked up at him in surprise. "Teach Corrine to shoot?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Well I would have taught her," I told him, "but obviously I didn't know how. She's good with a knife."

"Good," he said seriously, "but that may not be enough."

Unfortunately he was right, I'd been hurt more than once. If I wasn't what I am, I'd have been dead ten times over by now. Corrine hadn't inherited my strength or my stamina, and Mac was proof that magic couldn't always save your life.

We went to stand behind Brenda and waited for her to empty her clip.

She turned. "Finished?"

"Yes," Mac replied. "We'll probably take a stroll through the garden."

"All right," she said. "If you can't find your way back up, there will probably be someone around to direct you."

"Thank you," he told her. "If you talk to Christina this evening, tell her I said hello."

She nodded. "I have to call back home just before dawn anyway. Do you want me to put the rifles back for you?"

"No, I'll take care of them, thank you," he replied.

"All right." She turned back to load her clip and we left her alone.

After we returned the guns to the arsenal, we went into the garden. It was like stepping outside on a warm summer day.

There were several good-sized trees that brushed the ceiling of the room, and grass lined the path. A small stream ran through the park, and there were a lot of small animals running around free. We sat the crossbow down by the door and followed the path hand in hand.

"How's your shoulder feel?" he asked softly.

"Sore," I admitted. "I'll get over it."

"A warm bath will take care of that," he told me.

"Is there a bathtub in your room?" Mac, bubbles, and me. Hmm.

"Or shower."

"You didn't look in the bathroom?" But then again, why would he?

When we approached the end of the park, we saw two teenaged girls watching a younger girl play with her puppy. The child seemed very happy, and the dog was too, even thought it was wearing some kind of hat.

The teens noticed us and nodded before turning back to the girl. Eventually she saw us too, but she seemed a little surprised and took an obvious second look at us. The puppy took advantage of her distraction and leaped out of her arms, running toward us and barking at Mac. Animals don't usually like vampires, and this one was no exception.

The girl ran after the dog and caught up with him quickly, almost too quickly. I watched her carefully as she walked a little closer and looked up at me. Something about her seemed different, like she wasn't exactly a ghoul, but she wasn't a vamp either. I couldn't put my finger on it.

I blinked and looked at her again. Was it possible that she was…? I didn't even want to think it, but maybe she was like me, half-vamp, half-human.

She smiled knowingly up at me, then grinned at Mac and went running back to the other girls. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and let Mac lead me away from that corner of the park.

"Did you call everyone you were supposed to?" he asked as we walked along the path.

"Yeah, I called Jared," I replied softly, my mind still on the girl.

"And?"

"He picked up Corrine this morning and took her to Boston," I told him. "They called after they got there to give me the number. Corrine is still pissed off, but she'll get over it. Better safe and pissed off than happy in Salem in danger." And if she didn't get over it, at least she'd be alive to carry the grudge.

"How much are we going to tell her?" he asked.

Why did we have to keep going over this? "As little as possible?"

"Do you really believe she'll buy that?"

I looked up at him. "Do you have something in mind that you want to tell her you think she'll believe?"

"You're the one for keeping secrets from her," he reminded me.

"I'm still not sure why that's a bad thing," I murmured.

"As I've said before, knowledge is power," he told me. "She needs to know, at least enough to prepare herself."

Prepare her for what? To be killed when the vamps found out what she knew? Hell, this was a topic we were not going to agree on. "Well, we have, what, an hour and a half till dawn?" I asked, changing the subject. "What are we doing for an hour and a half?"

"Well, we can explore the chantry more," he suggested.

Like I wanted to see every vamp in the place. The fact that I could feel them was bad enough. It was like one of those background noises that can drive you crazy. "Or?"

"We can argue about Corrine knowing."

Anything would be better than that. "Or?"

"Take a dip in the pool."

I hid a smile. "Do you have a bathing suit?"

"Yes."

"I don't." I couldn't remember the last time I'd worn one, but it must have been in Bar Harbor before the contract had changed everything.

"I'm sure Brenda would have something that will fit you," he said.

I chuckled a little at that. I doubted Brenda would loan me anything willingly. "Not. Are there more surprises like the garden here?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've never been to Nashville."

We spent the next hour or so strolling hand in hand through the lower levels of the chantry. It was like some self-contained habitrail for vamps and ghouls, I swear. There were rooms devoted entirely to video games, and pinball machines. A large library took up part of the upper basement, and there was another smaller garden on that floor, too. We saw several large classrooms, and computer rooms, and rooms that were like huge living rooms.

We saw quite a few vamps on our stroll, and even more ghouls. To my surprise, no one said anything about the crossbow strung across my back, but then again that might have had something to do with the fact that it wasn't loaded and Mac held the quarrels.

Eventually we found ourselves back on the main floor of the house. The library doors were open a crack, and as Mac moved closer to peek through them, I saw Faith and Brenda standing over Dougal's grimoire. Faith was chanting, and Brenda looked like she was assisting in the ritual. Mac led me away toward the front doors and we walked out onto the veranda.

The night was beautiful. The moon was out and shining brightly, showing quite plainly the fall flowers planted around the house. I could smell autumn in the air, the crisp smell of dying leaves. It was almost unbearably romantic for the home of fiends.

Mac let go of my hand long enough to pull out a cigarette and light it. He offered me one, but I refused. With the price of cigarettes, I couldn't afford to take that habit up again. We sat down on the steps and he put his arm around my waist. I laid my head on his shoulder and tried to relax, although it was hard with my spider sense tingling from all the vamps around us.

"When did you meet Stephen again?" I asked softly.

"It's been about two and a half weeks," he replied.

"How did you meet him?"

"He walked into a bar I was in."

That sounded familiar. "You could start so many stories that way."

"He'd been searching for me for some time."

"How did he find you?"

"He asked around."

"Just asked around?" If it were that simple, why hadn't he found him years ago? Hell, why hadn't I found him years ago? Of course, I hadn't been asking, I'd thought he was dead.

"Yes," he replied. "If you ask the right people you can find anything."

"True enough."

"He passed through town and I believe he ran into a few of the witches I know," Mac explained. "The cairn of his pack is in the redwoods of northern California. I'd been staying in LA for quite some time."

"It's kind of surprising that he didn't find you before then."

"He'd only begun looking for me after my brother was killed."

Hearing that made me sad, though it didn't seem to affect Mac that badly, probably because he didn't remember Angus. "How was he killed?"

"Stephen never got very specific, there was not time," he told me, "but it was in direct relation to what he was."

Garou. "So it was a werewolf thing?"

"Yes. He was killed unjustly as Brother Stephen told me, vengeance was extracted for his death."

Blood for blood. "Was his wife involved in that?" From what I remembered, she was also Garou.

"I do not know," Mac murmured. "Stephen did not mention her."

That seemed strange. "What about the rest of your family?" His parents, his sister.

"Stephen said they are well," he said as he flicked his cigarette out into the darkness.

"You haven't talked to them?" That surprised me. I would have thought that calling them would have been one of the first things he did.

"As I said, I just started remembering them when Stephen came back."

"Where did they think you were?"

"They were informed I had disappeared," he told me.

I frowned. "By who?"

"I do not know for sure," he said, "but given things I know now, a probably guess would be Glenn."

Glenn would have known how to get a hold of them, he'd gone to Galway with Mac before. "It's possible."

"Unless it was you?" he asked, looking at me pointedly.

"Wasn't me," I told him. I'd never spoken to his family, and any number I might have had for them had been lost in the raid. "I didn't really get a hold of anyone at all," I added. "I didn't have any way to." Other than the one call to Glenn, of course, but that had been on a toll free number. I'd stayed as far away from my old life as I could to try and keep Corrine safe.

"Whoever did, they sent what little belongings were salvageable back to my family," he told me.

"Did they?" I thought Kate had taken all salvageable stuff and given them to me on our way to Richmond. I guess this was another thing she lied about.

"Yes, that is how Stephen came into possession of—" he reached into an inside pocket and pulled out picture. "—this."

I looked at the photograph, surprised to see it was of me. "You know, I wondered how he knew me when he walked up to me at Guilty Pleasures."

"He's been carrying this for nineteen years wondering who you were."

"Yeah," I said with a smile. "That's an old picture."

Mac leaned out a bit and held the photograph up, looking between them. "When was this taken?"

"Let me see it." When he handed it to me, I studied it for a moment, remembering. "This was at the brownstone about six months after I met you," I told him with a smile. "Glenn was doing something stupid, and Jane snapped a picture of me looking at him while he was doing it."

"Yes," he murmured, taking the picture back. "Have you spoken with Glenn since…?"

Did he think I'd called him while he was sleeping yesterday? "Not since the last time you listened," I told him honestly.

"Who, me?"

I shook my head and relaxed against his side. We sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other's company and the beautiful fall night. I was ready to fall asleep when Mac spoke.

"Shall we go in and prepare to retire for the evening?" he asked softly. "Or morning, or whatever."

"Sure," I agreed readily enough. I was bone tired. "It's been a long night."

"Yes." He stood and pulled me to my feet, then led me inside.

On the way upstairs, he peeked into the library again, but they hadn't finished the ritual. Once we got into our room, he looked down at me.

"Will you be joining me or sleeping on the floor in the corner?"

I laughed. "I don't know, do you bite in your sleep?" I asked him. I'd heard that some Kindred did and I was a little leery of testing that theory.

"I don't know," he replied thoughtfully. "No one ever slept with me."

"Gee, that sounds safe," I muttered to myself.

"I don't know if I snore, either," he added.

I shot him a dry look. "You don't snore cause you don't breathe," I reminded him.

"Ah," he drawled, smiling, "you caught that irony right away."

"Kinda hard to miss, Mac." I looked around the room, debating. Well, no guts, no glory. "I'll just sleep with a stake under my pillow," I told him finally.

"The door locks, I'm sure," he said softly.

That made me safe from the other vamps in the house, sort of, but what about him? "And?"

"What do you need a stake for?"

"In case you decide to bite in your sleep," I replied quite seriously.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dear."

Whatever my ass, I didn't make it a habit to get that close to vamps without somebody dying, and I sure as hell didn't want it to be me here today. If I staked Mac, all I'd have to do is pull it out and he'd be right as rain. If he drained me in his sleep, I'd be dead.

Mac rummaged through his bags for a moment then muttered something to himself. He pulled out a handgun and a hand full of shells, then turned to me.

"What, do you keep an arsenal in your suitcase?" I moved a little closer hoping to see what else was inside.

"I have several bags," he said, holding the handgun out for me.

"Is this for me?" I asked, surprised.

"Well, I'm out of holsters," he began, then stopped. "No wait, no I'm not." He took a few things from the bag and sat them down gently on the bed, then dumped a surprisingly large pile of weapons onto the bedspread.

I sat down nearby and started rummaging in the pile. There were several very sharp knives that if I'm not mistaken were silver laced. I had a few of those myself, they worked well on werewolves. There were also several handguns, and almost a dozen things that looked like torture implements.

"Now where did you pick all these up at?" I asked, holding a knife up to catch the light.

"The alternate Salem."

I glanced at his face, but he seemed quite serious. "They just let you walk out with all their weapons?"

He shrugged. "I killed most of them, they didn't say much after that."

Hard to argue with that kind of logic. He gestured for me to take what I liked so I grabbed another knife and several other sharp objects. The rest of the things he scooped back into the bag and placed the other things in on top of them.

"Are you going to shower?" he asked.

I didn't think I could stand up that long. "No, I'll wait. I'm tired," I told him. I grabbed a few things from my suitcase and went into the bathroom where I brushed my teeth and changed into a nightgown Corrine had bought despite my protest that I wouldn't wear it. It was long and white, with very thin shoulder straps.

When I went back into the bedroom, Mac was already in the bed waiting for me. He was still wearing his slacks and undershirt, making me feel really underdressed. I walked self-consciously over to the bed feeling strange in the nightgown; I'd never worn anything like it in my life.

I turned out the light and climbed into the bed. Mac moved his arm so I could put my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around me. His skin was cool, but I was getting used to that. I covered both of us with the blanket and hoped that my body heat would soon warm him.

"Are you sure you're going to be able to can handle this luv?" he asked me softly.

"We'll find out, won't we?" I hoped I could handle it. If I couldn't now was the best time to find out.

"I suppose so," he murmured. "Goodnight." That quickly he was gone.

I laid there in the darkness for a long time, waiting. I didn't know what I'd expected, but when it didn't happen, I relaxed. His arm was strong around me, holding me tight against him, but I didn't mind. I snuggled a little closer to his side and closed my eyes. Soon, I slept.

I was standing by the fireplace in our old apartment in Baltimore, looking down at Mac and I lying on the floor. The scene was frozen, as if time had stopped.

"Let's go over this once more," I heard a voice say.

I looked over to the kitchen doorway and saw the woman standing there. She was about my height, but very beautiful, with long dark hair and pale clear skin. I didn't think she was a vampire, but then again, this was a dream, wasn't it?

"Do we have to?" I asked, somehow knowing what the answer would be.

"You know we do," she replied calmly. "If you'd been faster, he would have survived. Maybe this time you'll remember something that will tell us who did this."

This time? Then I realized that she was always with me when I had this dream, making me go over those events, searching my memory for something that would tell her who planned the attack on the apartment.

"We don't have to, I know who did this," I shot back, irritated at this woman who had been invading my dreams for years. "Kate Hepburn planned it with the prince, and Dougal embraced him."

"What?" she demanded.

I looked around the room and changed the dream scene to the lobby of the hotel in Paris. Mac and I were standing by the desk, frozen in the middle of our argument about Kate.

"My God," she whispered. "Mac. He looks so alive."

"He's dead," I replied coldly. "He's Kindred. Just listen." We watched.

The other me frowned. "Dougal's dead," she said, counting off on her fingers. "The bitch that bit me is dead, and the really ugly one is dead. I only remember one other one."

"The one that I staked, yes," Mac murmured.

She looked up at him suspiciously. "You're remembering quite a bit for having amnesia, aren't you?"

"As I said," he replied, returning her even look, "my memory is coming back."

"So who else was there?"

"Your mother."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"Kate was there," he repeated.

The scene froze again and I turned back to the woman. "Then there's the letter." I changed the dream to the plane where I'd sat on the bed reading Dougal's letter.

The woman glanced at Mac, then went over to where I was sitting on the bed and read the letter in my hands. After a moment, she looked up at me.

"Who is she?" the woman asked.

"A vampire," I told her. "Tremere. My mother."

"She has to die," she said firmly.

"She will," I promised her. "The minute I see her."

She seemed satisfied with that. "Who embraced him?" she asked softly, almost as if she already knew the answer to her question.

"Dougal Galloway," I stated, my voice coldly bitter. "I don't know exactly what happened, but Mac said it was the hardest decision of his life."

"And his last, it would seem." She took one last look at Mac and waived her hand, bringing us back to the apartment the night of the raid.

A glance showed that the Kindred Mac had staked was lying on the ground at his feet and Dougal was standing in front of him. I was across the room shoving the fireplace poker through the stomach of the Nosferatu.

"Let's see what he remembers," the girl said, and the scene started to move.

"We can do this the easy way, Cormac," Dougal said softly. "Just agree to this and neither of you will be hurt."

That seemed to piss Mac off. "I have not changed my mind," he says calmly, watching the vampire. At a sound across the room, Mac spun to see the dream me laying at the base of the wall near the doorway into the kitchen. She was stunned, and the ugly vamp started to come after her.

"Leave her alone!" Mac shouted. One of the large plants in the room slammed into the ugly vamp. He fell back a step and brushed himself off as Dougal grabbed Mac from behind.

"Eliza!" he yelled. I moved to help him, but the woman laid a hand on my arm.

"This is a dream," she reminded me. "His memory."

"How did you do this?" I demanded.

She didn't answer me and I turned to see Mac hanging limp in Dougal's arms.

The other me almost got away until Valerie grabbed her. I guess I'd never realized how close I'd been to escaping until that moment. I watched Mac's face as she drained me, the heartbreak and horror written there plain as day. Even though I knew this had happened a long time ago, I still wanted to cry at his pain.

When Dougal lifted his head from Mac's neck, my lover was too weak to move. In the dim firelight I saw that his face was wet with tears as Dougal laid him down on the couch and walked over to where the other vamp was still holding my body. "Is she dead?" he asked, his voice hard.

"Yeah," Valerie replied in a frightened voice.

Dougal took my body gently from Valerie and laid me down on the floor. That surprised me, for some reason I wouldn't have thought that he'd have that much respect for the dead. Then he stood and hit Valerie hard, sending her flying across the room. "The girl wasn't supposed to die, you fool," he growled harshly. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this!"

"Her blood was strong," she cried, wiping the blood from the side of her face. "I got carried away."

Dougal gave her a dangerous look that almost frightened me, even though I knew he was dead. "Leave," he ordered her sternly. "If I see your face again I'll destroy you."

Valerie took off as Dougal bent to check my pulse. When he stood up, I could tell that he really thought I was dead and didn't like it. He walked slowly back to the couch.

"Eliza," Mac whispered, his voice low and agonized.

"I'm sorry, boy," Dougal told him crouching at his side. I believe he actually meant it. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that, she wasn't supposed to die."

"Kill me," Mac begged.

"I can't do that, boy. Things weren't supposed to happen this way, I swear." Damn, in the dim light it looked like Dougal was trying not to cry.

"Kill me," Mac pleaded again.

Dougal shook his head. "I can't. I know that you loved her, boy, and I'm sorry that she died." He bent to whisper something in his ear that I couldn't hear.

The woman beside me cursed softly and the scene froze for a moment, then changed a little before moving again.

Dougal shook his head. "I can't. I know that you loved her, boy, and I'm sorry that she died." He bent to whisper in Mac's ear. "I can make you forget the pain of loosing her," I heard him say.

"Yes," my lover whispered, closing his eyes. "Forget."

We watched Dougal call for fire, then burn the tattoo from Mac's arm. The room filled with the smell of burning flesh and it made me want to throw up. Dougal slit his wrist and poured his own blood over the wound, healing it into the scar Mac now wears on his arm.

He bent to bite Mac again, and once more the woman had to grab my arm to stop me from interfering. We watched as Dougal fed Mac from his wrist, and I looked away when Mac took a hold of Dougal's arm to feed , looking away brought Kate right into my line of sight. She bent to feel my pulse, and the room faded to darkness.

I blinked in the blackness, not liking it at all. A moment's concentration brought us to the room I was sleeping in with Mac.

The woman looked for a long moment at the bed where Mac and I lay. "How can you do that?" she asked softly.

"Do what?" I said, following her gaze. "Sleep with the man I love?"

"He's a vampire," she hissed fiercely.

I laughed painfully. "Don't you think I can feel that every second I'm with him?" I demanded in a voice hard. "I know he's a vampire, but I love him."

"And true love conquers all?" she asked, still looking at the bed.

"No," I replied truthfully. "It can't. But at least we'll have tonight."

At that she finally looked at me. "Will it be enough?"

"It will have to be," I whispered, tears filling my eyes. "It's all we have."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Sleep, Eliza," she told me. "Sleep and dream no more."

I did, and this time I didn't have to reach for Mac in my sleep, his arms held me against him the whole time I slept.