Dark Moon

Moonrunner III Dark Sunrise

© copyright by Jane Toombs Oct 1997 cover art by Cindy Turner

Chapter 1

The November tule fog that had shrouded California's great central valley for most of their trip lifted as the silver-gray Packard wound down a hill, allowing Jael Steinmetz to get her first look at Volek House. She stared awestruck at the great stone fortress, its multiple turrets bathed by the setting sun, the tall tower afire in crimson light. Red as blood, she thought apprehensively, wondering again why she'd agreed to come. Wolf Volek, sitting beside her, spoke for the first time in almost an hour, startling her. "It was back in 1875 when I first saw my home-to-be," he said, gesturing toward the mansion. "I was ten at the time and thought it was a palace. Since I knew I didn't belong in one, if I'd had anywhere else to go I might have turned tail and run." Does he know I have no place at all where I belong? Jael wondered even as she marveled at how open this scarred and taciturn man could be when he did break his silence. She was twenty-seven, not ten, much too old to give way to foolish fancies. She'd seen many a San Francisco mansion tucked away behind protective walls, hadn't she? The Voleks were wealthy and those with money protected their privacy. If they chose to live in a stone castle girded with high stone and adobe walls broken only by massive iron gates, that was their privilege. Judged by his appearance, Wolf Volek's life hadn't been easy. The left side of his face was badly scarred with a black eyepatch covering what she suspected was a missing left eye. Perhaps he had reason to live in a fortress. "I hope you'll stay," he told her. "Marti needs you." He'd said something similar when they'd met for the first time. "I've searched for months, for years. Believe me, you're the one for Marti." She hadn't completely

understood then and she didn't now. It seemed, from the little he'd told her, that the child really did need a nursemaid but there were others just as suitable as Jael Steinmetz. She was far from accustomed to being the chosen one--for anything. His scarred face made judging Wolf Volek's age difficult--somewhere in his early fifties, she'd tentatively decided. But if he was ten in 1875 that meant he was sixtyone now, in 1926. Definitely old enough to be the grandfather of the five-year-old girl who was to be her charge. "You won't have any other duties," he said, repeating what he'd told her before. "Everyone at the house understands that Marti will be, must be your one and only concern. As I explained, she's unable to talk but she's very bright and understands everything said to her. That doesn't mean she always obeys. Marti will need careful watching." In other words, a difficult child, one she wasn't to let out of her sight. Rather different than caring for the sick children at St. Tabitha's Hospital where she'd worked as a nurse. Would she like the change? How could she know until she tried it? The car turned into a drive and Jael looked at the iron gate looming in front of her with displeasure. She didn't take to the idea of being locked in, as she would be when that gate clanged shut behind her. But why should she expect to feel at home in Volek House when she'd never felt at home anywhere in her life? Wolf glanced sideways at Jael as he drove the Packard through the gates. He'd known the moment he set eyes on her that she was the "shining one" old Bear Claw's spirit-soul had described. Bear Claw had warned him that if he didn't find her and bring her to Volek House the entire clan would be doomed. Though Wolf had good and sufficient reason to mistrust red-headed women, he placed Jael's mass of frizzy, carrotcolored hair in a different category, hers was more orange than red. Tall and awkward, her skin swarming with freckles, by no stretch of the imagination could she be called pretty. Her amber eyes held the wary watchfulness of a cat's, trusting no one, yet even in that stiff first meeting he'd caught glimpses of her essential warm-heartedness. "Jael is a good worker," the Mother Superior had assured him later. "We'll hate to lose her." "No flaws?" he'd asked. The Mother Superior had remained silent for a moment.

"She tends to prefer her own company. People sometimes take this to mean she's aloof. Stuck-up is the term I've heard used by some of our younger nurses, but that's hardly a flaw. All in all, she's a well-trained children's nurse and a sensible young woman. Our loss will be your gain." Sensible. Aloof. Good traits for a girl who was coming to live with the Voleks and their deadly secret. Though the family had servants, they were all day workers. Jael would be the only live-in outsider now that Chung and Gei were gone. Wolf's mind winced away from the bloody memory of how they'd been killed. He stopped the car in front of the house, slid from the seat and went around to open the door for her but she let herself out before he got there. Apparently she didn't wait for a man's assistance when it wasn't really needed. He liked her self-sufficiency. "I'm afraid I don't remember many of the names of your relatives," she said, her gloved hands twining nervously together. "There are too many of us anyway." He hadn't meant to speak so abruptly or so honestly. He forced a smile, hoping to pass the remark off as a mild joke. But there were too many with the tainted Volek blood, most of them living in Volek House and all of them his responsibility, exactly as his grandfather, over forty years ago, had warned him they would be. Wolf was as much to blame as anyone else for the proliferation of Voleks. His wife greeted him as he ushered Jael into the entry. "I thought you were never coming home," Cecelia cried, hugging him. He smiled at her fondly as he introduced Jael. "Thank God you're here," Cecelia told Jael. "Marti's been a real problem with Wolf gone. I can't tell you how glad I am he's found the right person to look after her." As Jael greeted Wolf's wife, she felt someone watching her and turned. A silver-haired child with pale eyes and dark skin stood halfway down the staircase, staring at her. Though Wolf hadn't described his granddaughter's appearance, Jael knew immediately who she was. "Hello, Marti," she said. "I'm Jael." Something flicked across her mind, oddly reminding her of a waterbug skittering across a pond. Without stopping to reason what she was doing, she thought, Is that you I sense, Marti? Instant surprise, then withdrawal. A moment later the child whirled, ran up the stairs and disappeared from view.

Trying to conceal how shaken she was, both by the invasion and by her own too-hasty reaction, Jael turned back to Wolf and his wife and found them looking at her with concern. Why? Had she inadvertently given herself away? "Now that you've met Marti," Cecelia said slowly and carefully, "what do you think of her?" Worry darkened Cecelia's green eyes. She's afraid I won't stay, Jael realized. That must mean she knows about Marti. But does she know about me? Have either of them guessed? "You felt it, didn't you?" Wolf asked her. Since there was no reason not to admit she had, Jael nodded. "I didn't mention this--intrusiveness--of Marti's because I thought a non-family member might not be affected," Wolf said. "I hope you're not too upset." "I am, a little," Jael confessed. Honesty was always best. Up to a point. "You're taking this marvelously well," Cecelia said. "I do hope you'll stay and try to understand Marti. In many ways she's a sweet little girl." A sweet little girl who invaded your mind. Jael took a deep breath. Wolf couldn't possibly be aware of how well he'd chosen. Or could he? Because of all the children's nurses in San Francisco he might have picked, he'd found perhaps the only one who could understand Marti. As a desperate urge to flee Wolf House seeped through her, Jael eyed him warily. How much did he suspect? "Marti's a very lonely child," Wolf said. The words dropped into her heart like stones. When she was a child she'd had no one, not after Yuba died. The Sisters at the orphanage had taken good care of her but she'd really had nobody. She still had nobody. Marti had a mother, a father, grandmother, grandfather and many other relatives right here in the same house with her. And yet, as Jael well knew, in truth, Marti had no one either. She needed Jael. "I'll stay." Jael heard her own words with dismay. She worried about Wolf's possible suspicion of her flaw, but what really frightened her was far more sinister. In opening herself to Marti would she also leave herself open once again to that horror from the past? But how could she turn her back on a child as lonely as she'd always been? Cecelia showed Jael to her room, the most luxurious bedroom Jael had ever been in, and left her there. She immediately circled the room slowly, letting its feel soak

into her. Though she appreciated fine furnishings, the ambience of the place where she was to sleep was more important than anything else. Some rooms were threatening, some terrifying; she couldn't bear them for an hour, much less a night. This one, though, seemed innocuous. She was at the windows looking down at the grounds when someone tapped at the door. At her invitation a young man of her age entered, carrying her two suitcases into the room. His resemblance to Wolf convinced her he wasn't a servant and his drawn, rather haunted look held her gaze. She blinked when his dark, slightly slanted eyes met hers, only then realizing she was staring. "I'm Leo," he told her. "Wolf's grandson." "You must be Marti's brother." Jael was annoyed at the high-pitched tone of her voice because it revealed the nervousness she'd rather keep hidden. "Her half-brother, actually. Relationships among the Voleks can get rather complicated." Leo spoke without inflection, almost, it seemed, without interest. Why should he be interested in the nursemaid hired to watch over Marti? Especially now that he'd seen her. Jael had no illusions about her looks; men had never found her attractive. "Someday you'll be beautiful," Yuba had always assured the homely little girl Jael had been. "When you grow up I'll have to sweep the boys off our doorstep with a broom." Another of Yuba's golden dreams, Jael thought. None of them ever came true. The homely little girl had, predictably, grown into an unattractive woman. And there'd never been a doorstep of their very own. Leo started for the door, paused and glanced toward her. "If there's anything you need, I'm usually--no, make that always--around somewhere." He didn't wait for her answer. Jael mulled over the words. Why had he said them? Politeness? Probably. Yet she'd swear she heard an undertone of something other than mere courtesy in his voice. And why was he, a young man no older than she, "always" around? She was unpacking when another knock came. This time it was a woman. "I'm Druse Waisenen, Marti's mother," the woman said. Looking at the dark-haired, brown-skinned woman, Jael saw where the child's dark complexion came from. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Waisenen."

"Wolf tells me you've already met Marti and so you know about--" Druse hesitated. "About her difference. I wanted to be sure you understand how very necessary it is to keep her with you. I realize there'll be times you'll need to be alone, just be certain to notify me or one of the other family members first." Druse bit her lip. "You see, last year Marti disappeared and we didn't find her for two days." "I'll do my best," Jael said. Druse sighed. "I hope she takes to you. It'll be such a relief to me, to all of us to have an outsider--" Druse bit her lip again. "What I mean is, Marti needs someone who doesn't belong to the family. She's with Samara now, I'll go and fetch her." As she quickly finished her unpacking, Jael tried but failed to remember how Samara Volek was related to the others she met. Though Wolf had explained, there were too many members of the family for her to be clear about relationships. She wouldn't worry about it, if she stayed long enough eventually she'd have everyone in the house straight in her mind. Not Druse, but a white-haired man appeared next at the door. His skin was so colorless, his eyes so pale, that he resembled an albino. When he pushed Marti into the room ahead of him, Jael nodded to herself. So this was where the rest of Marti's coloring came from--her father. "How do you do, Mr. Waisenen?" she said and smiled at Marti. The little girl refused to meet her gaze, staring instead at her own shiny black patent-leather shoes. His gray eyes studied Jael for so long she grew fidgety. "Wolf was right," he said at last, more to himself than to her. He knelt on one knee and turned Marti so she faced him. "She's here for you. Do you understand?" Jael knew Marti couldn't speak but she expected to see a nod or a gesture, some indication the girl had heard her father. Marti merely stared at him, her face blank. He shrugged and rose. "Jael is your name, I believe. I trust you'll prove as hardy as your Biblical namesake. I also hope that you, being a city girl, won't be alarmed by our country noises. We're close to the Sierra foothills and their varied animal life--on occasion you may even hear a coyote sing to the moon." Jael smiled, charmed by the picture his words evoked in her mind--a lone coyote atop a hill, muzzle raised to the moon, not howling but singing. "I look forward to hearing him," she said. Mr. Waisenen seemed startled. "Him?"

"The coyote." "Oh yes, of course. Well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted." As soon as the door closed behind Marti's father, Jael felt a feather-light mind-touch. She said nothing, hoping to encourage the girl to trust her, concentrating instead on her mind picture of the singing coyote. There was no use to try to conceal her unwished-for ability from this child who already knew she had it. Not a coyote. Marti's thought imprinted itself on her mind. Unsure what she meant, Jael decided to let it go for the moment and try to reassure the child while at the same time let Marti know this would be a two-way communication. I want to be your friend, she thought. Marti flinched, taking a step backward. Don’t be afraid, Jael thought hastily. I won’t hurt you. I never had a friend, Marti thought after a long pause. You have one now. Are there others? It took Jael a few moments to decide that Marti was asking if there were others who could speak mind to mind. You’re the first I’ve met, she admitted. You can talk out loud, Marti thought. I can’t. Jael chose her answer with care. No two people are the same. But I’m glad I found you. I felt so alone. Marti took a step toward her. I’m always alone. Except for Quincy. Who’s Quincy? A pause. I’m not supposed to tell you. Quincy. Jael was positive Wolf hadn't mentioned that name when reciting his family tree litany. Was Quincy a real person or an imaginary figure invented by a lonely child? Jael had concocted one of those invisible friends when she was little. Nonnie, she'd called him. Jael decided she'd best tread carefully here. She also needed to get a strong message across to Marti while they were alone. When others are with us, I’ll talk out loud to you, she thought. We’ll keep this secret. Marti smiled. I like secrets. I’ve got lots of them. She cocked her head, studying Jael. Maybe sometime I’ll tell you my secrets. That’s up to you. I know. Lots of things are up to me ‘cause I’m different. But I guess you are, too. I like your hair. May I touch it? Secretly pleased that Marti had found something about her to like, Jael thought, If you want to. She sat on the

bed. Marti edged closer and reached a tentative hand to one of Jael's frizzy curls, then wound it around her finger. Finally she climbed onto the bed beside Jael. Tempted to put an arm around her as she would with any other child, Jael resisted the impulse. With Marti, it was best to let the child decide. To her surprised gratification, Marti leaned against her. When they said you were coming I meant to hate you. But I don’t. She slid off the bed, lifted the crocheted spread, crouched and peeked underneath. There’s a trundle bed here so I can sleep in your room if I want. Maybe I will. I’d like that.Jael made the thought as positive as she could, pushing away her doubts for the time being. Do you have dreams? Jael tensed. Those she remembered were not dreams but nightmares. Marti's eyes widened and she laid a hand on Jael's knee. I didn’t mean to scare you. Realizing the child had sensed the way she felt, Jael hurriedly pulled her thoughts together. Best to tell the truth, she reminded herself. As much as possible. I used to have bad dreams, she admitted. If you do I’ll wake you up, Marti promised. Jael impulsively hugged her and Marti snuggled into the embrace for a brief moment before drawing away I’m glad I came to Volek House, Jael thought. Marti's smile faded. There’s things you won’t like. She clutched Jael's hand. I promise Quincy won’t hurt you. Please don’t go away and leave me. Though Jael had no idea what Marti meant, she did her best to smile reassuringly. She and Marti had formed a bond she'd never before found with another person. For all she knew there were no others like the two of them. Despite possible danger from the past, the wonder of using mind-talk wasn't something she'd willingly give up. She needed Marti almost as much as Marti needed her. She had no intention of leaving Volek House. I won’t leave you. The thought was absolutely sincere. That night Jael woke abruptly from a troubled sleep and sat up, certain she'd heard an alien sound. Confused for a moment by her surroundings, she oriented herself and glanced immediately toward the trundle bed where Marti slept undisturbed. Since she hadn't drawn the shades in her room, moonlight flooded through the windows and, by craning her neck, she caught a glimpse of the full moon riding high. There was no one in the bedroom but the two of them; the

door remained closed. What had she heard? She eased down onto her pillow and lay quietly, listening. Perhaps the sound had come from an ordinary dream, the kind she never remembered. She'd closed her eyes and was beginning to sink back into sleep when an eerie high-pitched ululation jolted her fully awake. She clutched the bedclothes, tears coming to her eyes as the howling filled the room with loneliness and despair. Coyotes singing, Marti's father had said. But this was no song, it was a pain-filled cry for help. Still, she'd never heard a coyote before, perhaps they sounded like this. Blinking back her tears, she glanced again at the trundle bed where Marti now shifted uneasily in her sleep. Not a coyote, Marti had insisted when Jael had shown her the mind picture of one singing to the moon. What had she meant? And why can I hear the cry so clearly? Jael wondered. Is the animal on the grounds of Volek House? Suddenly she felt Marti in her mind. The moon’s full. He can’t help howling. Marti's face was turned toward her, Jael saw, the girl's eyes wide open. He? Jael asked silently. The beast. Beast. A coyote, of course. What had she expected? Jael decided she was foolish to get worked up over an animal's song to the moon, no matter how plaintive. Marti obviously wasn't the least frightened; she must have heard coyotes howl many a time. I can sleep in your bed with you if you’re scared, Marti offered. Thank you but I’m all right now. It’s just that I never heard a sound like that before. Marti didn't tell her anything else and Jael saw the child's eyes close so she resettled herself on her pillow, determined to at least try to rest. She'd calmed herself enough to shut her eyes when a sleepy thought from Marti skittered disturbingly across her mind. He can’t hurt you ‘cause he can’t get out.

Chapter 2 By morning fog shrouded the valley once again, a fog that didn't lift for three days. The howling at night wasn't repeated and, in the confusion of meeting so many people as she settled into the routine of Volek House, Jael had little time to worry about what she'd heard the night of the full moon. Especially after she discovered she was expected to attend a family wedding in Los Angeles with Marti the following week. "I'm afraid I didn't bring appropriate clothes," Jael told Cecelia, concealing the fact she didn't even own the type of expensive dress she'd be expected to wear to a Volek wedding. Cecelia eyed her assessingly. "You're taller but you and I have much the same build. If it wouldn't offend you to accept it, I have a long gown that I'm sure Delores could alter to the right length for day wear. The dress is pale green, which would complement your coloring." Jael stared at her for a moment. The same build! Wolf's beautiful wife was slender and graceful where she was skinny and gawky. Belatedly recalling her manners, Jael managed to say, "That's very kind of you." "I recall a time when I was a young girl and the Voleks befriended me when I had no one and nothing and I remember how ungrateful I was at the time." Cecelia's gaze grew unfocused, as though she was looking into the past. "Life teaches hard lessons. Frightful lessons. I've learned them at a cost." She blinked and refocused on Jael. "The least I can do for you is try to make you feel at home here. We really do want you at the wedding." Delores, one of the day servants, used her skill on the charming silk gown Cecelia produced, a dress whose tunic top had a stylish dropped waist. When Delores was finished, the accordion pleated skirt came to just below Jael's knees, shorter than she wore her uniforms, shorter than she was accustomed to but certainly in style. Many women wore skirts coming barely to the knee. Fortunately Jael had an almost new pair of beige shoes and a beige cloche to wear with the gown. Before Cecelia

gave her final approval, she insisted on presenting Jael with a new tube of pale orange lipstick. "I've never worn makeup," Jael protested. Cecelia shrugged. "It's the fashion, so why not?" Taking the tube from Jael and opening it, she applied the orange color to Jael's lips. "There. See for yourself." Jael stared into the mirror and had to admit that while she hadn't been transformed into a beauty by a becoming gown and a bit of lipstick, she did look more like everyone else. Enough like them, at least, so she wouldn't be noticed at the wedding. She dreaded the thought of attracting attention. Life, she'd found, was safer when you remained in the background. The idea of Jael Steinmetz going to any fashionable wedding was startling enough, but it boggled her mind when she discovered that the bride wasn't merely a Volek but also a movie star. Jael had never dreamed that the dark and sultry Melda Vance she'd seen on the movie screen a number of times was actually a member of the family and that her real name was Melanie Volek. The groom was also famous in his way. David Eastman was a successful and well-known lawyer, a descendent of a prominent Los Angeles family, and it was rumored he'd be on the ballot for governor of California in the next election. The night before they were to leave for Los Angeles, Marti crawled into bed with Jael. I don’t want to go to the wedding, she thought. Why not? Jael wondered. ‘Cause if they get married something bad will happen afterwards. A dark foreboding settled over Jael. Could Marti foresee as well as mind-talk? She'd learned by now that the little girl could sense emotions in anyone's mind, though she couldn't decipher thoughts if the mind she entered didn't project them. What else could she do? Jael tried to keep her projected thought calm. How do you know? I heard Ivan and Samara talking. Samara, Jael knew, was Melanie's mother. Not by Ivan, who she'd married after the World War, but by another man, now dead. Ivan was one of a set of twins, sons of Sergei and Liisi, the two founders of the Volek clan and the builders of Volek House. Ivan and Samara had a daughter, Beth, a year older than Marti. Samara said Melanie didn’t want any children so it was all right for her to get married, Marti reported. Ivan said he was sure Eastman would expect Melanie to have children. Then he kind of yelled about

things being shaky enough without adding more Voleks and, worse, any child of Melanie’s might turn on the entire family. Jael had no doubt Marti was reporting exactly what she'd overheard, confusing as it was. Do you know what Ivan meant? she asked. Sort of. A long time ago I head Arno and Ivan talking about how Melanie’s father was one of the others, the bad kind, and how Melanie didn’t know. Except for understanding that the twins, Arno and Ivan, shared knowledge that Melanie didn't, Jael had no idea what to make of this. Obviously not everyone in the family was happy about Melanie's marriage but that wasn't uncommon in families. What ‘others’? she thought. Marti shook her head which usually meant she didn't know. It doesn’t sound as though anything bad will happen at the wedding. Or afterwards, either. Jael tried to make her thought reassuring. If Melanie doesn’t want children she might well not have any. Marti cuddled next to her in the bed. I hope not. ‘Cause they might be like poor Quincy. Jael had discovered it was useless to question Marti about Quincy. Though she often mentioned him, she always refused to add any details. When they arrived in Los Angeles, they found that Santa Ana weather had swept in off the desert to hold the city in its uncomfortably hot and dry embrace. Not a cloud marred the bright blue of the sky and the sun beat down relentlessly. Fans stirred the air inside the church but did little to dissipate the heat. Sitting with Marti in one of the pews reserved for the bride's family, Jael dabbed perspiration from her forehead as she watched Ivan lead his stepdaughter up the aisle to the altar where a handsome blond man, graying at the temples, waited. David Eastman, Jael had discovered, was a widower with a grown son from his first marriage. In her white lace wedding gown, Melanie was even more beautiful than she'd looked on the screen. But under her veil the bride wasn't smiling. Nervous, perhaps, because surely she was happy. She’s scared, Marti thought, I can feel it. She leaned her head against Jael. I feel everyone at once. It hurts. Concerned, Jael glanced down at Marti who was even paler than usual. Everyone one at once? Lots of people. All the people. Too many.

The church was crowded, with every seat taken. And throngs of the uninvited waited outside to catch a glimpse of Melda Vance. Jael put an arm around Marti. I’m here. Marti shuddered and clutched at her. I can feel them all around me. They make me hurt inside my head. Sort of like a balloon you keep blowing up bigger and bigger and bigger till it goes pop. The poor child had never learned to shut herself off from others. Alarmed at the desperation she sensed building inside Marti, Jael made a decision. Leaning forward, she whispered to Wolf, seated ahead of them, "Marti doesn't feel well. I'm afraid she needs to go home." He turned, took one look at Marti and said, "Tell our chauffeur I said to take the two of you back to Volek House." Marti lay on the back seat of the Rolls, her head hidden in Jael's lap, tremors shaking her at times, until the car began the long, lonely climb up the Tehachapi Mountains. Then she relaxed, turned over and fell asleep. Jael breathed a sigh of relief. In Bakersfield, the chauffeur, Delores' husband, Carlos, stopped for gas and Marti woke up. To Jael's anxious questioning, she thought, I feel all right now ‘cause there’s hardly any people around. Reassured, Jael helped her from the car so they could stretch their legs. Hearing a mewing, they looked toward a nearby eucalyptus tree. A box under the tree bore a crudely printed sign. "Free kittens," Jael read aloud. Marti ran to the box and dropped to her knees beside it. Jael hurried to crouch beside her. Three black and white kittens slept curled together in one corner while a striped black on gray kitten did its futile best to crawl over the opposite side of the box. He wants to get out, Marti thought. He needs to get out. She lifted him from the box and sat back on her heels with the kitten in her lap. When he climbed up her dress and licked her face, Jael thought she'd never seen a more beautific smile than Marti's. He likes me! Marti's thought was exuberant. She stood up, carefully cuddling the kitten. I want to take him home. Carlos was doubtful. "Delores, she say no gato in la casa.” Her limited Spanish allowed Jael to translate this as no cat in the house, "Marti can keep the kitten in the barn if she must," Jael suggested, reluctant to destroy the child's happiness.

Having spoken, Carlos shrugged off any further responsibility for the kitten and so Marti climbed into the car with it clinging to her and they started off again. Kittens are like people, Marti thought after a while, they don’t like to be locked up either. No one, man or beast, wants to be locked up, Jael agreed. Marti shot her a swift sideways glance. A few moments went by before she thought, I guess you must sort of feel him. Like you did the first night. He hates the tower. Jael did her best not to show her astonishment. The tower? Was Marti telling her there was someone locked inside the tower of Volek House? Going over everything Marti had told her since her arrival, plus the strange howling she'd heard that first night, Jael came to a conclusion. Choosing her words carefully, she thought, It must be Quincy. Marti's confirmation was rapid. Poor Quincy. Leo and me, we try to keep him from howling but sometimes he can’t help it. Remembering the desperate sadness in the cry she'd heard on the night of the full moon, Jael decided it was possible she might feel like howling, too, if she were locked in a tower. Quincy must be a Volek. She longed to ask Marti why the Voleks felt it necessary to keep one of the family so carefully sequestered and searched for the right way to put it but could find nothing better than a straight question. Why is Quincy kept in the tower? Marti, now busy wiggling her finger for the kitten to bat at, thought, I’m not supposed to tell. Jael dropped the subject for the time being but she couldn't get her mind off Quincy languishing in the tower. Was he insane? If so, wouldn't he be better off in an asylum where they treated the afflicted? And what was she doing working for a family who'd imprison someone in this barbaric fashion? Could she stay on, knowing this? At dark, they finally arrived at the gates and the clang when they shut behind the car made Jael cringe anew, thinking of the man in the tower. Who is Quincy? she asked. He’s Leo’s twin brother, , Marti thought absently as she stroked the sleeping kitten with a gentle forefinger. I’m going to let Gato sleep on my pillow. And I’ll never, ever lock him up. Jael sighed as she watched Marti. What would happen if she left Volek House? Marti would have no one to share her thoughts with. Perhaps she'd never trust anyone again if Jael broke the promise she'd made to stay. As for herself, away from here, she'd have no one either. Yet, if she stayed, what about the man in the tower?

She'd heard his agonizing, wordless plea to be released. Could she bear the knowledge of his suffering and do nothing to try to relieve his plight? Since she'd never been able to ignore a human or an animal in pain, she doubted her ability to remain silent if she stayed at Volek House. What she must do, as soon as the family returned, was to ask Wolf to explain to her why Quincy was in the tower and then make her decision. Waino, who hadn't gone to the wedding, was waiting in the entry as Jael shepherded Marti through the front door. He was starting to close it when the kitten suddenly let out a terrified yowl. Marti screamed with pain as the little cat clawed its way free of her, leaped to the floor, dashed through the open crack of the door and vanished into the night. As Marti sobbed, Jael pulled her handkerchief from her pocketbook to staunch the blood from the scratches on the girl's hands. Marti's thoughts tumbled chaotically into Jael's mind. Gato hurt me. He hates me. Gato hates me. "No." Jael spoke aloud without thinking, used to soothing frightened children at the hospital with her voice. "The kitten doesn't hate you, Marti. Something frightened him so much that all he could think of was getting away." Looking over the girl's head, she saw Waino watching her speculatively and realized she'd given herself away. "Cats don't like this place, Marti," Waino said. "The kitten won't willingly come into the house. I'll see that Roger finds him tomorrow and brings him to the barn. He'll be safe and happy there and you can visit him." Marti stopped crying, fear replacing her anguish as she stared at her father. She shifted her gaze to Jael. Owl hunts at night. Please don’t let Owl catch Gato and eat him, she begged silently. Did owls eat kittens? Jael wondered. But it made no difference whether she knew the answer or not, she must help Marti no matter what she might reveal in the process. Swallowing her apprehension as best she could, Jael faced Waino. "Your daughter's afraid an owl will catch the kitten before morning," she said, amazed that her voice didn't reveal her inner trembling. "If you'll watch Marti I'll be glad to search for Gato now." For a long moment Waino didn't speak. Finally he shook his head. "I forgot about the owl. I want to make certain Carlos shut the gate after himself when he left so I'll hunt the cat while I'm out. You take Marti up to bed." He patted his daughter's shoulder. "Gato won't be afraid of me; I'll

find him and see him safely into the barn." Turning away, he reached into a small chest by the door and removed a flashlight. "Jael," he said, "please lock the door after me. I have a key." She did as he asked, then put an arm around Marti and led her up the stairs. Marti bravely endured the washing of the cat scratches with soap and water but, as Jael was gently patting her hands dry with a towel, she was startled to see tears roll down the girl's cheeks. I don’t mean to hurt-- she began. It’s not you, Marti interrupted. Quincy’s crying. It hurts me inside when he cries. Quincy didn’t mean to upset me, it isn’t his fault about the kitten. He can’t help it. I should’ve known the kitten would be afraid of him..it’s my fault. It made no sense to Jael that a kitten could be afraid of a man locked in a tower two stories above them, a man the cat could neither see, hear nor smell at that distance. At the same time she was taken aback to realize the child's outburst must mean she was communicating with Quincy. I didn’t realize you and Quincy could mind talk, she said. Just sort of. I have to guess lots of times, ‘specially when he… Marti broke off. Mostly he can’t unless something bad happens to me, like the kitten. She leaned against Jael. You’re the only one who understands all the time. I have to go up there now or he’ll keep on crying. Into the tower? Jael's thought was incredulous. Not in the room. That’s locked and can’t ever be opened. Just outside the door. So he can hear me better. Can't ever be opened. The words made Jael wince. Who dared to damn this man to life imprisonment? And why? I’ll go with you, she thought firmly though it made her skin crawl to think of climbing into the tower. Marti looked at her dubiously. You might upset Quincy. I won’t. Jael's thought was more positive than her conviction. I’m sorry for him. Marti brightened, pleased at her words. We better go quick before my father comes back ‘cause he won’t like it. Jael hesitated, then shrugged. Waino already had cause to be suspicious of her so she might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. Besides, Marti was determined to go and she couldn't let the girl climb to the tower alone. If she forbade her, Jael knew in her bones that Marti would try to sneak away and visit Quincy anyway. Marti dashed into her bedroom closet and retrieved

something from deep inside, showing a key to Jael as she emerged, a key that unlocked the access door to the tower stairs. Leaving the door unlocked, Marti raced up the winding spiral staircase so quickly that Jael, hurrying in her wake, worried for her safety. She was breathless by the time they reached the locked door at the top. A dim bulb gleamed from a lamp attached to the stone wall over the door. To Jael's surprise, as Marti projected her thoughts toward Quincy, she also caught them. But it was such a jumbled confusion of pictures and words that she couldn't easily follow the gist. Opening her mind as much as she knew how, she made an effort to understand. Her intense concentration on Marti and the man behind the locked door left Jael aware of nothing else. Startled when a tide of darkness swirled around her, at first she thought the light had gone off. By the time she realized the darkness had turned to crimson it was too late to try to close her mind. Jael found herself enveloped in a reddish fog where she could see nothing and was able to hear in her mind only one voice, the same hateful voice that haunted her nightmares, a voice from the long dead past. Blood of my blood, you will do my bidding. No! she tried to cry, but neither her voice nor her thought pierced the evil fog. The time is ripe for revenge and you are my tool. As had happened too often in the past, horror overwhelmed her, numbing her resistance. The voice continued to nibble at her will until she could do nothing but obey its commands. In his hurry to open the gate for your car, he left the key in the lock. Turn it. The numbers for the combination lock above the keyed lock are etched on the inner surface of the key. Without her willing it, her hand reached out and, feeling a key under her fingers, Jael turned and removed it. In the fog that blinded her, a series of numbers glowed brightly, fitting themselves into her mind. Of its own volition her hand slid up to the circular dial of a combination lock she couldn't see, the dial becoming visible and illuminated the moment she touched it. Carefully she turned the dial, matching its numbers with those in her mind until she heard a loud click. All the time she was vaguely aware of someone or something outside the numbing blackness trying to call to her but no thought or word could penetrate. All she could hear was the voice from

beyond the grave. Listen to me, blood of my blood, lest you perish. You must survive for until you reproduce you are the last of my line. You will leap aside the moment you open the door. The child will then protect you. Now. Open the door! Jael flung the door open. As she quickly jumped aside something she couldn't see brushed past her, she felt a brief touch of coarse hair against her bare arm and smelled a feral stench that turned her stomach. Then a weight pushed against her, forcing her against a stone wall and the crimson fog dissipated. Marti stood in front of her, arms outstretched. Jael's mind spun with the force of the child's command. Don’t hurt her. She freed you. You’re free! Run or they’ll catch you. Run! Jael caught a glimpse of a vast nightmare figure, halfbeast, half-man, at the top of the stairs. It snarled, a sound so menacing her knees sagged in terror until only Marti's weight pinning her against the wall kept her on her feet. Involuntarily she shut her eyes and when she opened them again the thing had disappeared. She heard claws scrabbling on the stone of the steps, a violent scratching at the door at the bottom and then a triumphant howl. Minutes later there came a distant crash of glass shattering. Jael? Marti's thought was tiny and tentative. Frightened. It took Jael a moment or two to form even the simple words, I’m here. Marti turned and clung to her, her small body quaking. You were gone. Something dark and scary was inside you. Oh God, Marti had felt it. Would the darkness return? Would it harm Marti? Panic struck Jael, her wobbly knees gave way and she slid down the wall until she sprawled on the stone floor, Marti lying across her lap. Waino was in the barn making a nest in the hay for the kitten when the howl froze him in place. As soon as he was able to move, he dropped the kitten into the hay, ran to the barn door and slammed the bar into place, locking himself inside. He yanked the rifle from its rack above the door. As he reached into an inner pocket for the special ammunition he always carried, he heard glass shatter. One of the house windows! The light bulb hanging from a cord attached to a rafter cast a dim glow on the silver bullets as he grimly loaded the

gun. Stripping his mind of all emotion except a hunter's determination, he yanked the chain connected to the light, shutting it off, then raised the bar and left the barn. Once outside, he stood with his back to the closed door long enough for his vision to adjust to the darkness. His day vision was weak but at night he saw as well as or better than most humans. Still, the best he could hope for was enough warning to shoot at least one bullet before he was attacked and have that bullet score a hit. Even in a minor wound, the silver would poison the beast and, if not removed, kill him. Treading with caution, Waino sidled away from the barn and, trying to peer in all directions at once, struck out for the house, expecting death at any moment. He was halfway to his goal when the beast's exultant cry stopped him in his tracks. Beyond the wall! The beast had already escaped from the grounds. With his speed, he'd be beyond rifle range in a matter of minutes. Waino took a deep breath. He was safe for the moment, unlike the unfortunates outside the grounds. He was safe, yes, but what had happened to his daughter? Terrified of what he might find, Waino ran toward the lights of the front entrance, noting the glitter of broken glass amidst the shrubbery as he pounded up to the door. Locked. He cursed the seconds it took him to find the key, insert it and fling open the door. Kicking it shut behind him, he ran up the stairs shouting Marti's name. There was no answer. Of course not, you fool, he told himself. Use your head, call the other one, the nursemaid what's-her-name. Biblical. The woman who'd pounded a spike through the enemy chieftain's head, nailing him to the ground. What was the damn name? Jael, that was it. "Jael!" he shouted. "Jael!" No answer. He found no sign of them on the second floor. His steps lagged as at last he climbed the spiral staircase to the tower. At the moment he'd heard the first howl he'd realized he'd forgotten the tower key and feared what he'd find if he ever made it back to the house. He might have forgotten the key but he knew he'd locked both the locks. Quincy could never have escaped from the room unassisted. He was almost to the head of the stairs when he saw them, Jael holding Marti, both slumped motionless on the stone floor. Lifeless. "Marti!" The cry came from the depths of his soul.

Until that second he hadn't realized how intensely he loved his child. Before his unbelieving eyes, the two of them stirred. Marti sat up, stared at him, then staggered to her feet and stumbled toward him. He rushed to meet her, grabbing her into his arms and hugging her. "I thought the beast had killed you," he whispered over and over. "Marti saved me." Jael's voice was so ragged and hoarse he could scarcely decipher her words. "Come," he said, shifting Marti to one arm and offering his free hand to Jael. "I'll help you to your room." Marti insisted on cuddling next to Jael on her bed. Waino covered them with a quilt and then sat on the trundle bed looking from one to the other. Much as he disliked asking questions of a young woman who'd been frightened half to death, he had to have answers. Now. Jael's yellow eyes met his, slid away, then returned. She folded a pillow under her head to prop herself up and then cleared her throat. "It was my fault," she said tonelessly. "I unlocked the door." "Why?" "I--I heard him the first night I was here and he sounded so--so desperate..." He waited for more but no more came. "How did you know the combination of the second lock?" he asked finally. "I saw the numbers etched on the key." Impossible. The numbers were so minute they could only be seen in good light with the aid of a magnifying glass. There was no way she could have deciphered them in the dim light of the tower. On the other hand, Marti might have learned those numbers at some time or other. She was a remarkably perceptive child who excelled at ferreting out secrets. Was Jael protecting her? He leaned forward. "Marti," he ordered, "look at me." His daughter turned her gaze from Jael to him, her pale eyes unreadable. "Marti, did you tell Jael the combination?" Slowly, reluctantly, it seemed, she shook her head. "Are we safe?" Jael put in. "From—from him?" She'd seen the beast. Waino decided there was no point in dissimilation. "He won't bother with us now that he's escaped the grounds. He has other prey to hunt." Jael shuddered. "I didn't know what he was. I didn't realize--"

Waino wasn't surprised when her words faltered. How could she realize? How could anyone but a Volek realize what kind of thing had been locked in the tower? Still, Jael Steinmetz was proving to be a very odd young woman. She admitted she'd heard the beast howling to the full moon--a sound to freeze the marrow of the bravest man's bones. Yet, inexplicably, she'd let him loose. His mind marshalled everything he knew about her, making him remember the strangeness of her comments about the kitten. She'd spoken but the thoughts had been Marti's, he was sure of it. He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You can do what Marti does. Read minds." Jael cringed away from him. Marti wrapped her arms protectively around Jael and scowled at her father. "I'll try not to ask hurting questions, Marti. But I must know the truth." "I'll leave first thing in the morning," Jael faltered. Marti's face crumpled and she began to weep silently. Waino knew the Voleks didn't dare let this woman leave the house. Not with what she knew. Quincy was hunting somewhere in the dark and God knows how long it would take them to trap him again. Meanwhile, they couldn't turn Jael loose with her dangerous knowledge. "No, no, Jael, please don't feel that way," he said. "We don't want you to leave--why it would break Marti's heart." Jael looked at Marti and began to cry, hugging the child to her. Waino concealed his impatience as best he could while he waited for them to calm down. Had he convinced her to stay or not? At last Jael mopped her eyes and said brokenly, "Marti wants me to tell you something." Again he had to wait while Jael blew her nose and cleared her throat. When she finally spoke he could only gape at her. "Marti says he--the beast--isn't hunting, he's looking for his twin brother." Waino took a moment to recover himself. He didn't doubt Marti could communicate with Quincy--but when he was in beast shape? "Whether that's true or not," he said, "it's a good idea to get Leo back here as soon as possible." Jael blinked several times, then said, "Marti tells me it's too late. Quincy knows Leo is in Los Angeles and so does the--the beast. He's on his way south already."

Waino closed his eyes, envisioning the terrible consequences of the beast roaming free. He was a ruthless hunter and his prey was as likely to be human as animal, as he'd proven by his most recent kills. Though it wasn't the first time the clan had faced such a calamity, the Voleks were an old and respected valley family and had been able to cover up and gloss over the other bloody tragedies because they'd happened locally. On foot, the beast could travel much faster than a man. How far south had he gone already? They had to find him before he brought doom to Volek House. And not just find him. Fixed and intent on what must be done, Waino forgot about the other two in the room. Without conscious thought, he reached for and gripped the rifle he'd left on the floor near the bed. The time was past for locking him away. Quincy had to die.

Chapter 3 At the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, Wolf woke to a pounding on his door. He leaped from the bed and rushed into the sitting room. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Leo. Let me in. Hurry!" Hearing the panic in Leo's voice, Wolf's heart rate, already rapid from the abrupt awakening, speeded even more. Leo, barefoot and dressed only in his trousers, burst into the room, his face twisted with anguish. "He's escaped, Quince has escaped! I can feel him running free. He knows I'm here--odds are he's on his way to LA to find me." "No!" Cecelia stood in the doorway to the bedroom in her nightgown. "My God, what are we to do?" The phone rang. Wolf picked up the receiver, already anticipating who was calling. As soon as he heard Waino's voice, he said, "Leo's told me about Quincy. Is he right?"

"Yes. About an hour ago. Quincy's left the grounds but Marti says she can locate him for us." Wolf's eyebrows raised. "Marti says?" "Through this nursemaid you found for her. Through Jael. I can't explain over the phone. And Jael's seen Quincy." Waino's voice was grim. "In the morning the three of us will drive south in the truck. With the silver. And the means to use it." About to question the wisdom of bringing either a child or an outsider on such a dangerous journey, Wolf hesitated before answering. Waino must already have weighed the consequences. "I'll stay here with Leo but I think it's best we have someone at Volek House at all times so I'll send Cecelia and our boys on the night train to Tulare. Have Carlos pick them up and then wait for them to arrive before you leave. Reynolds might prove of use if worse comes to worst." How much use his son Reynolds might be was moot, Wolf thought, but at least the boy shared Quincy's dark trait, though controlled, as Quincy's was not. "I agree to your plan." Waino sighed. "Let's pray this doesn't attract one of the--others." As he hung up, Wolf tried to force the thought of stalkers from his mind. Despite the murderous clashes with those malevolent others over the years, the Voleks had learned practically nothing about them. There was no way to protect themselves or Quincy if a stalker should sense him and so there was no point wasting time worrying about it. "Quince shifted," Leo said, clenching and unclenching his fists, "so everything's blurred between us. If I could only figure out a way to make him shift back..." His words trailed off and he slammed a fist against the door frame. "Damn!" Wolf flung an arm over his shoulders. "We'll save him if we can, you know that." Leo stared at him, the muscles in his jaw working. "I know you can't." Wolf gave Leo's shoulders a squeeze and released him, relieved that Leo realized the odds were stacked solidly against keeping Quincy alive. Seeing that Cecelia had gone into the bedroom to pack, he lowered his voice. "We must stop him before the blood lust lures him into killing everything in his path. If he's caught--or killed--by anyone else, we've no way to keep his identity a secret." Leo nodded. "I know. Old Sergei's safety of the clan and all that."

Something in Leo's tone bothered Wolf, turning his relief to unease. "The clan has to come first, Leo. Otherwise we'd have perished long ago." "He's half of me." Tears shone in Leo's eyes. "You might just as well kill me along with him." "That may happen." Leo blinked, obviously taken aback. "Don't forget you'll be the goat we stake out to attract the beast," Wolf went on. "We know that even in beast form Quincy won't harm you--but what if a stalker's on the trail of the beast?" Straightening his shoulders, Leo looked Wolf in the eye. "I'm damned if it'll be a stalker who kills me. Or kills Quince either. Where's the stake-out going to be?" "Waino's driving south in the morning with Jael and Marti. If he doesn't catch up with Quincy, then we'll have to choose an isolated place near LA, a wooded spot the beast would naturally seek." "I just may have found it," Leo said slowly. "You know how I hate cities, so after we checked in last night I asked the doorman if there were any large, fairly wild parks in LA and he told me how to get to one. I got up early and hiked through Elysian Park. It's a few miles from the hotel to the northeast--woods, with an uninhabited canyon running into the park from the north. What do you think?" "Sounds possible. I'll take a look." "Why in hell is Waino bringing Marti?" Leo asked. "And this outsider?" "Jael saw the beast so we can't very well turn her loose to spread the news. And Marti claims she can track Quincy. Waino was at the house when Quincy escaped so he knows how and why it happened and has made up his mind how best to handle the problem. Until I have all the facts, I won't question his decisions." "I admit Marti's been able to control Quince at times but it's not fair to put such a young child into--" Wolf slashed a hand through the air, cutting Leo off. "We need all the help we can get. Young or not, Marti's a Volek like the rest of us. If the family doesn't survive, she won't. I thought you understood." Leo glared at him. "Back to the damn safety of the clan. You're willing to sacrifice your own five-year-old granddaughter on the off-chance you can catch Quince before someone else does. If you don't kill him, what do you intend? To lock him in the tower for the rest of his days? And what about that poor nursemaid--are you going to turn

Volek house into a prison so she can never get away from us?" Wolf tamped down his anger, reminding himself how close the twins had always been. He kept his voice level. "Jael's a problem we'll settle later. After we find Quincy. I know you love him and fear for him. I've never forgotten that time in the Miwok village when we took shelter with Bear Claw and Quincy got sick. Do you remember?" After a moment Leo nodded reluctantly. "We've never discussed it," Wolf said, "but did you know why Bear Claw asked you to lie down next to your brother?" Leo nodded. "When we were kids Hawk told me how the Miwoks believe twins share one spirit. Hawk knew a lot of Miwok lore. He said his mother named him Soaring Hawk because she sensed at his birth that he'd choose the sky." Taken unaware by the mention of Hawk, Wolf pressed a hand to his chest as if to ease the swift stab of grief. No one, nothing, had ever replaced Hawk, his firstborn son, lost in the Bering Sea when he attempted to fly his biplane into Russia. The past couldn't be changed. Wolf forced his attention back to Leo. "Lying there by the fire in the Miwok lodge," Leo was saying, "listening to old Bear Claw's medicine chant, I figured if he believed Quince and I had but one spirit between us, he must be trying to take my health and pass it along to Quince. I was afraid Quince was going to die--" Leo paused and took a deep breath. "I didn't care what happened to me, I just wanted him to get well." "As he did. After he bit you in the throes of delirium." "Yeah, I remember getting bit." Leo stared at the scar on his left arm. "How could I forget? Didn't it make me a shifter, too? I hated the changing. God knows I was glad when you and Waino banished the beast part of me." He fingered the amulet suspended from his neck by a leather thong. "I've never wanted to be anything but human. Quince, though--" "Has never wanted to be anything but a beast," Wolf finished. "Maybe old Bear Claw was right and we do share only one spirit, me the human half and Quince the beast half." Wolf stared at him for a long moment, the hair rising on his nape. Was it possible? Maybe yes, maybe no. His shaman journeys had taught him not to label anything impossible. Not that it was the same as two sharing one spirit, but in his life he'd encountered at least one instance of spirit

possession. He shuddered, cutting short the memory. Dangerous to dwell even briefly on that time for fear he'd evoke the hell-spirit once again. A moment later, dark mist swirling about him, he feared he had. The hotel room vanished and a woman's form took shape in the mist, a pale figure whose silver gaze pierced his mind, transfixing his attention and his will. His last vestige of emotion was a trickle of relief. She was not the evil one, she was Grandmother Liisi. "Beth," Liisi whispered in his mind. "Tell Waino he must teach Beth how to journey." And then she was gone. Wolf found himself on the floor with Leo on one knee beside him. "Grandpa, what happened?" Leo's voice quavered. Wolf struggled to sit up, Leo helping him. "Knocked flat by a vision, that's all." Amusement and self-mockery laced Wolf's words. "Grandmother Liisi always was a determined woman." Remembering what she'd told him, he sobered. On his feet once more, he took hold of Leo's shoulders. "Promise me you'll do as I ask," he said. As Leo hesitated, Wolf added, "This has nothing to do with your twin." "Then I promise." "Tell Waino that Liisi wants him to teach Beth how to make the shaman's journey, beginning as soon as possible." "I'll do exactly as you say but--" Leo's brow furrowed-"but, grandpa, why can't you tell him? And, come to think of it, if Beth's to follow the shaman path, why can't you teach her?" Wolf stepped back. When he spoke it was to answer the second question. "The shaman's way is blocked to me; I can no longer travel that path, much less lead anyone along it." He gestured toward the door. "Get dressed and go make sure Reynolds and Nicholas are ready to catch the night train with their mother." "How about the rest of the family?" "Let them sleep. Morning's soon enough to break the news." Not until Cecelia and his sons were gone and he was alone in the room did Wolf allow himself to dwell on the meaning of Grandmother Liisi's message. When he was certain he understood all she'd meant to convey, he locked himself into his private bath, the only room in a hotel where he could be sure he'd be alone. Turning out the light, he sat Indian fashion on the floor, resting his hands, palms up on

his thighs and closed his eyes. After a time he began to chant: "Spirit Wind, do not blow from the south Do not blow me toward the north Do not blow me to the dark, the cold The place where heroes drown The place where men are eaten Blow me, spirit wind, to a land Where Grandfather waits A land where my son soars high Where Hawk spirals down the sky forever... Much later, he tried to phone Volek House but there was no answer. In the early morning, Cecelia telephoned him from the house, saying that Carlos had picked her and the boys up in the Rolls at the Tulare station. When they arrived at Volek House Waino had been waiting in the truck, driving out through the gates as soon as Carlos drove in. "The dining room window is broken," she said. "And the tower room open. "Otherwise everything's as usual in the house. Waino left us some--silver. Like you, he doesn't think we'll have any need to use it." "I'm sure you won't," Wolf said, unsurprised that he wouldn't be able to talk to Waino. "Ivan and Arno have decided they ought to go home, too, so they're leaving the hotel with their families to catch the afternoon train. Expect them at Volek House by tonight. Bren's with them so you may have to look after him since Druse insists on staying here." "I'll be glad to see Ivan and Arno," Cecelia admitted. "But I wish you were coming with them. You will be careful?" "As careful as possible." "Remember," she said, "you're not as young as you were in '06." He knew what she meant. San Francisco. The earthquake and the fire. Golden Gate Park and the beast. "I love you, Cece," he said. She caught her breath. "Oh, Wolf, I wasn't worth what you went through--the scars, losing your eye..." She began to weep and was still crying when she hung up. He smiled. She'd been worth everything. She still was. Leo, who'd been resting on the sitting room couch, sat up. "Quince is closer, I can feel it. A lot closer. And he's shifted to himself." "You're sure?" Leo nodded.

Wolf's relief that Quincy wasn't traveling in beast form ended all too soon. He'd been out shopping for a few necessary items and came back to the hotel near noon. He'd noticed earlier that one of the ground floor guest sitting rooms contained a large Atwater Kent radio and it was turned on loud enough to be audible in the lobby as he crossed to the elevators. "There's bears in them there hills, folks," an announcer was saying. Wolf paused and drifted closer to listen. "Experts tell us that these days there's not a grizzly to be seen in all of California," the man went on, "but, according to a rancher who lives not far from our beautiful new Rose Bowl in Pasadena, there's at least one real, live grizzly in the San Gabriel Mountains. "In Mr. Thomas Denton's own words, 'I killed me a bear or so in my time and that critter I saw today weren't no ordinary bear, he must of been one of them grizzlies. Why, he tore up two of my steers something pitiful.' Near dawn this morning, Mr. Denton caught sight of the grizzly from his truck but prudently didn't pursue the animal, claiming he wasn't about to go after 'no beast that big and mean.' In other local news--" Wolf turned away and hurried to the elevators. The experts, he suspected, were correct. Very likely there were no longer any grizzlies in California and certainly none in the southern part of the state. There might still be a black bear or two in the San Gabriel Mountains, but not grizzlies. Yet he feared the rancher had been telling the simple truth when he claimed he hadn't seen an ordinary black bear. Mr. Denton erred in calling the beast a grizzly, but Wolf had no doubt it was a beast. A Volek beast. In Wolf's suite, Leo listened to the story and nodded. "Sounds like it might have been Quince. He's not in beast shape right now, though, and he's coming closer all the time." Druse, sitting in a chair by the telephone, said, "To get from Volek House to the San Gabriel Mountains that fast Quincy must have gotten a ride for at least part of the way, obviously not as a beast." "We can't take a chance on him coming to the hotel," Wolf said. "God knows what might happen if he did. He's trying to reach Leo so the two of us will have to go to Elysian Park now. Be sure you stay by the phone, Druse, so you can tell Waino where we are if he calls. Tell him not to take Jael or Marti into the park with him. Have Room Service bring you anything you need."

"Don't worry about me," she said, "worry about yourselves. I thought you meant to wait until Waino arrived with the silver mesh net." And the guns with silver bullets, Wolf added silently, knowing Druse didn't want to think about her son being shot down and killed. "We can't wait," he said. Druse bit her lip. "Leo, you take care of yourself. And papa--you, too." "We're not entirely helpless." Moved by an impulse he only half understood, Wolf pulled Druse into his arms and hugged her before leaving. "You've always been my sweet little girl," he said. She hugged him fiercely. "Sometimes not so sweet, papa. Or else--" She didn't finish. Or else Leo and Quincy would never have been born. But in her teens Druse had been as bemused by lust and what she thought was love as Wolf had himself when he was young. And the pain he'd brought to the family was far worse than anything Druse had done. So how could he blame her? Pressed for time, Wolf felt there was no time to search for the best place to encounter Quincy. Elysian Park would have to do. Leaving Druse in the suite, he and Leo climbed into a taxi. The entrance to Elysian Park was to the left off Broadway, not long after they passed Sunset Boulevard and crossed the bridge over the Los Angeles River. Wolf and Leo left the taxi on the street and hiked up the steep slope that led into the park proper. Tall eucalpytus trees lined the narrow, twisting road, with pines and other evergreens visible beyond their large gray trunks. Shrubs and bushes grew thickly where the trees thinned enough to allow sunlight through. A cool breeze from the ocean promised relief from the heat of the Santa Ana but also carried the threat of evening fog. Wolf hoped it would be no more than a threat. While southern coastal fogs were nowhere as thick as tule fogs, he preferred clear weather for tonight. By the time the November sun was low in the west, they'd penetrated deep into the park and had concealed themselves as best they could in the densest of the wooded areas. Assured by Leo that Quincy was still some ways off, Wolf settled onto a stump to go over the map of the city and the surrounding area yet one more time. "According to the map," he said, tracing a route with his finger, "this is an arroyo running from the San Gabriel Mountains that feeds into the Los Angeles River. Arroyo

Seco, they call it, so I suppose the waterway is usually dry, like the LA River. I imagine the arroyo is fairly wild with lots of growth, making a natural pathway for animals. Look how close it comes to the park boundaries." "He hasn't shifted into a beast again," Leo said. "Even if he does, with luck and under cover of darkness, he'd be able to get here unobserved." Leo, who'd been methodically leafing through the afternoon Examiner, drew in his breath. "Damn it, they did pick up the grizzly story," he said. "And they've got more." He shoved the newspaper at Wolf. In the fading light, Wolf read the column. Some enterprising Examiner reporter had coupled the Denton grizzly encounter with the death of a man found mangled and naked just off Route 99 in the Tehachapi Mountains. "Mauled By Grizzly?" the small headline asked. Though it wasn't front page news, unfortunately the headline was sensational enough to draw attention. "It must have been Quince." Leo's voice was morose. "No doubt of it. He shifted back after the kill, put on the man's clothes and hitched a ride with someone. No wonder he arrived here so fast." Wolf frowned. "That almost sounds as though Quincy's beast can act on orders from his human part and that the human side of him knows the beast's intentions. Sergei told me that wasn't possible. He said the beast might be aware of many things the human part of him knew but that, as far as he could plan, it was the planning of a beast. And once human, he never knew or remembered what he'd done while a beast." "Quince is himself, not Grandfather Sergei. So why should his beast behave exactly as Sergei's did? Besides, don't you think it's possible being locked up for so long might have altered Quince? I can tell you he isn't the same person he was when you shut him into the tower." "We," Wolf reminded him. "It was a family decision." "No one asked Quince." Leo's voice rose. "He hated it!" "He can't control himself and we can't control him. The alternative to imprisonment was--and is--death." "He doesn't want to die." Wolf shrugged. "Who does? But death waits for all of us, sooner or later. Sometimes it's the best solution." "No!" Apprehension thrust Wolf to his feet. "Leo, you said you understood." Leo's hand gripped the hilt of the silver dagger

sheathed on his belt. Wolf, wearing a similar knife, eyed him askance. "I don't have to like it," Leo said sullenly, taking his hand away. "No, but you have to face it." Leo stared into the gathering shadows between the trees and neither man spoke for a time. After a while, Leo said, "Doesn't elysian mean a sort of paradise?" "To the ancients, Elysium was the dwelling place of happy souls after death," Wolf told him. "The Elysian Fields." Leo turned to look at Wolf. "My brother would be as much out of place in Elysium as he is in this world. He doesn't belong--" He stopped abruptly, swinging around so he faced east. "Quince has shifted again. Into a beast. And he's close." Deep within himself, Wolf had known all along Quincy would have to be confronted as a beast. He recalled the bloody night when Leo and Quincy's father was killed, a night of violence and death in another woods, and he closed his eyes as though that would blind him to the memory. He and Samara were the only ones who'd survived that night and for months after she'd been more dead than alive. But she'd lived and so had Melanie, the unwanted child of rape. Wolf closed his hand around the hilt of the silver knife and eased over to the trunk of a pepper tree, taking comfort in the feel of something solid against his back. Quincy wouldn't harm his twin but everyone else was fair game for the beast. "What was my father like?" Leo's voice coming out of the darkness startled Wolf. "Uncontrolled, like your brother." Leo didn't need to know Stefan had been so uncontrolled that he'd killed his own mother. Only his twin, Samara, had been safe from his blood lust. "Why is it some shifters can control their changing, like Grandfather Sergei could and Arno and Reynolds and I can?" And Cecelia, Wolf added silently. "The family has tried damn hard to figure it out," he said, "but so far we've failed. Just as we've failed to find a reason why some of us are shapeshifters and some not. There must be an answer. Sergei always believed the secret of the Voleks lay in Russia, where we came from." He shifted his grip on the knife handle. "How close is Quincy now? Can you tell?" "I'm trying but it's garbled, like getting two radio

stations at once." Wolf tensed, fearing Leo might somehow be picking up a stalker. None of them had any idea how stalkers homed in on shifters. "Could you be getting two different signals?" he asked. Leo didn't answer for so long that Wolf had started to repeat the question when Leo broke in. "Marti!" he exclaimed. "That's the trouble. Marti's found Quincy." Damn. Marti's presence might complicate matters. "Found him in what way?" Wolf asked. "Mind touch or--?" "Can't tell. But she knows where he is." Wolf cursed again. He'd feared it was a stalker Leo sensed but Marti was bad enough. If she followed close on Quincy's trail she'd add more danger to the already perilous situation. In the pale moonlight, Marti ran after the loping beast, ignoring Jael's frantic mind calls. If she could get close enough, she was sure she could make him change back to himself. Then no more people would get hurt. And her papa wouldn't have to kill poor Quincy. Beast, she thought at him. It’s Marti. Stop. Wait for me. Stop! He finally slowed, pausing to look over his shoulder. He was on all fours and she couldn't see him very well in the moonlight but he looked bigger than she remembered. Bigger and so scary she had to remind herself he wouldn't hurt her. I’m your friend, she told him silently. Your friend Mart. Wait for me. Jumbled pictures and feelings slammed into her mind-long, sharp fangs sinking into bloody meat, a dead man with gory furrows clawed along his naked skin, a glimpse of Leo, the excitement of running free, and the threat of attack if anyone or anything tried to stop him. Marti's steps faltered. There was hardly anything left of Quincy in him now, unlike when he'd shifted while locked in the tower room. He was warning her to leave him alone. Maybe she'd better. Maybe he really would hurt her if she didn't. Marti halted, watching him spurt ahead and vanish into the darkness. She looked around, realizing she didn't know where she was or in which direction she'd come from. Where was the fence she'd crawled under, leaving Waino and Jael on the other side, both too big to squeeze through the tiny opening? She had no idea. Opening her mind in a search for Jael didn't work, she found no trace. Instead,

she sensed something so dark and ominous she snapped her mind closed and huddled in on herself, wishing she could disappear. Not only the beast hunted this night. The moon slipped behind a cloud, leaving her in total darkness. She'd never been so frightened in her life. Not even when she flew with the owl. A whimper rose in her throat but she swallowed it fearfully. Where were all the people who lived in this city? At the wedding there'd been so many, too many, all pressing in on her until she thought she'd burst. Where had they all gone? Terrified, fearing to look with her mind lest the dark hunter find her, she had to search with only her eyes and her ears and she didn't see nor hear a trace of anyone. Afraid to move, she hugged herself, shivering. It seemed forever before she saw a light in the distance. Two lights. Car headlights. Stumbling in the darkness, Marti ran toward the headlights. Surely it must be papa and Jael, looking for her. She eased open her mind long enough to call Jael silently but there was no answer. Still some distance away, the car turned, driving on until she could no longer see its lights. Marti struggled against her fear of the dark hunter, finally clearing her thoughts enough to realize that if she'd seen a car there must be a road because cars drove on roads. If she walked straight ahead she'd come to a road and then she wouldn't be lost any more. If she was on a road, papa would drive the truck along the road and find her. Wouldn't he? It took a long, long time to get to the road but, when she reached it, the moon peeked out from the clouds and its rays showed her buildings on the other side of the road. Houses. With lights inside. Afraid to be alone in the night any longer, Marti ran toward the safety of the lights. The first door she tried was locked. She banged with her fist but no one came. At the second house, the door opened and so she walked inside. A man sitting at a table with a bottle and a glass in front of him stared at her as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Finally he blinked and shook his head. "Don't cry, little girl," he said in a slurred voice. Marti didn't even know she was crying but she touched her cheek and found it wet. "C'mere," he said. She didn't think he was the dark hunter but she hesitated to use her mind to make sure. "I ain't gonna hurt you," the man said. "C'mere."

Not knowing what else to do, she obeyed. He reached for her, closed his hand around her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. He smelled bad and she didn't like being on his lap so she tried to squirm off and onto her feet but he wrapped an arm around her body so she couldn't. Fear and anger started pressure building in her head, making it impossible for her to creep into his mind and see what was in there even if she dared to try. What if he was the dark hunter, after all? She fought desperately to get away from him. He laughed at her struggles. With his free hand he lifted the half-filled glass from the table and put it to her mouth. "This'll dry your tears, honey," he said. A few fiery drops stung her tongue before she jerked her head aside. She'd never tasted anything worse. Some of the liquid splashed on her dress and the smell was as bad as the taste. He drank what was left in the glass and set it back onto the table. "Rotgut," he muttered. "Don't blame you." Putting his hands on her waist, he lifted her until her face was even with his. "Give the ole man a l'il kiss, sweetheart," he said. Before she could raise her hands to thrust him away, his wet. slobbery lips covered hers. Marti gagged, the increasing pressure inside her head making it throb painfully. Even worse than at the wedding. Terror blended with hate in a pulsing, burning fire, pounding in her mind until everything blurred into a red fog so dense and thick she couldn't see or hear or think. And then she exploded.

Chapter 4 "Shield yourself!" Jael cried to Waino as she hastily closed her mind. She wasn't sure he understood and she could only hope he knew what to do if he did understand. Reverting to her childhood practice, she lowered her chin and raised her arms, crossing them protectively on top of her head, eyes closed as she huddled on the seat of the truck. For a moment she was dimly aware of the truck stopping and of Waino's low chanting. Then an invisible vise caught her skull in vicious pincers and squeezed as through trying to pop her brain out like the meat from a walnut. She screamed. Waino's hand slid under her arms and onto her head. Heat flowed from his hand, easing the painful pressure. Waino's chanted words flowed through his hand into her, words in an unfamiliar language that seemed to set a barrier

around her mind, allowing nothing to pass. Jael sank into a relieved semi-stupor. She had no idea how much time passed before she became aware of someone gripping her shoulders and shaking her. "Wake up, Jael," Waino urged. She opened her eyes. "Where's Marti?" Waino demanded, releasing her. Jael sat up straighter and stared into the darkness outside the truck. To their left, lights gleamed from houses along the road. She pointed. "The second house." Her voice sounded strange in her ears so she cleared her throat. "That's where I sensed her before--" She broke off, uncertain how to explain what she'd felt. Marti's image at the wedding of a balloon being blown up past its capacity came to her mind. "Before the balloon burst," she said. Jael was unsurprised when Waino nodded. Waino might not be able to mind-talk like Marti but he had other unusual abilities. After the horror of seeing the beast they called Quincy, she was convinced that no one who lived in Volek House could possibly be ordinary. "Thank God you recognized the danger," he said. "If you hadn't--" He didn't finish. She had no need to hear the unsaid words. They'd both be dead if she hadn't warned him in time for him to block the lethal power. Marti's power. Jael shuddered. "My daughter doesn't know what she possesses," he said sadly. Jael thought that was very likely true. But the knowledge didn't change the fact that Marti had nearly killed them both. Why? For the first time it occurred to her that something or someone had panicked Marti to make her unleash such violence. What had happened to the child afterwards? Cautiously Jael released her mind guards. She found no trace of Marti. Alarm tensed her. Was Marti alive? Waino opened the truck door. "I'm going with you," Jael told him. Since the front door of the house wasn't locked, they didn't bother to knock. Waino entered first. Jael, still trembling from her narrow escape, followed him along a dark hall. As they approached a lighted room, the stink of whiskey stung her nostrils. "Marti!" Waino cried and rushed into what Jael recognized as a kitchen. He fell to his knees beside Marti who was sprawled on the linoleum like a rag doll. Beyond the motionless child was a man's body, also on

the floor but tangled with a wooden chair as though he and the chair had been flung backwards. Blood trickled from his ears. Amber liquid from a toppled whiskey bottle pooled on the table and dripped onto the linoleum. Before Jael could reach Marti's side, Waino gathered his daughter into his arms and rose. Jerking his head toward the man, he muttered, "Best to get away from here as fast as we can." He turned on his heel and strode from the kitchen. Jael stumbled along behind him. She believed the man was dead. Was Marti alive? She was afraid to ask. After they were in the truck once more, Waino laid Marti on her lap. Bending over her, Jael thought she felt a faint brush of breath on her own cheek. Her fingers sought the pulse under the child's jaw and found a faint throb. Marti was alive. Apprehension mingled with Jael's relief. What would happen when the child roused? Would she and Waino survive? Waino had pulled the truck back onto the road and its headlights shone palely on the macadam surface. "We'll take Marti to the hotel," he said. "Keep trying to reach her, mind to mind. In the meantime--do you know any lullabies?" Jael blinked. "Why, yes. Yes, I do." "Sing to her. Hearing goes last and comes back first. A lullaby will soothe her before she wakes." There was no need to ask why it was important that Marti wake soothed. "Bye-low, my baby," Jael began in a husky contralto, "bye-low, my sleepy little babe..." Over and over she sang the refrain while Waino drove on and on. Other cars passed them. Street lamps appeared. Buildings loomed beside the road to either side and she knew they'd reached the city proper. Still she sang, her voice growing hoarse. The lights of Los Angeles shone through the truck windows onto Marti's face. Jael brushed a strand of fair hair from the child's dusky skin and slipped into a hum instead of words. Moments later she felt Marti's first tendril of awareness creep into her mind. Instantly she stopped crooning and sent a silent message to the child. Everything’s all right, you’re safe, safe with Jael, safe with your father. Safe. Safe. My head hurts. Marti's sending was weak. Jael cuddled her closer. Soon you’ll be better. Glancing at the city streets, she hoped that was true, hoped the pressure of many people wouldn't upset Marti as it had in the church. Of course that had been a mob, really. Hundreds had crowded into and around the church. Big and busy as the

city was, its inhabitants weren't all in one spot at the same time. Marti stirred and opened her eyes. Jael smiled reassuringly down at her. I knew you’d come and find me. Marti's thought was stronger. I knew you wouldn’t let the dark hunter get me. Dark hunter? He’s hunting the beast. Hunting Quincy. Tell papa. "Marti says something she calls a dark hunter is following Quincy," Jael said to Waino. His hands clenched on the steering wheel. "Stalker!" He hissed the word. "I was afraid of that. I must find Wolf and Leo and warn them." After a moment he reached over and stroked his daughter's hair. "You're safe now," he told her. "And you'll be safe in the hotel with Jael. The stalker won't come after you there." The tenseness in his voice raised the hair on Jael's arms. Her hold on Marti tightened. I won’t let anything hurt you, she assured the girl. Marti closed her eyes, relaxing against her. I’m awful tired. Sleep. You’re safe with me. Safe with Jael. She began to hum the lullaby again, as much to keep her own fears at bay as to soothe the child. By the time Waino pulled up in front of the Ambassador Hotel, Marti slept soundly. "I'll come with you to the desk," Waino told Jael. Leaving the truck running, Waino led Jael, still holding the sleeping Marti, into the hotel. At the desk, he used the phone to call the Volek suite. "Druse is alone," he told Jael as he hung up. "She told me where Leo and Wolf have gone." He started to turn away, stopped and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Jael." Too exhausted to speak, Jael could only nod at Waino. In a daze, she carried the sleeping child to the elevator. When she finally reached the Volek suite and Druse opened the door, Jael was staggering. Druse plucked Marti from her arms and led the way to a bedroom where Jael collapsed on one of the twin beds. She managed to whisper, "Please lay Marti here beside me." Druse hesitated, then did as she asked. Turning on her side and cuddling the girl to her, Jael closed her eyes. She had no energy left to worry about Marti's potential for violence, the beast named Quincy or the threat of what Waino called a stalker. All she could do was slide helplessly into the dark pit of sleep.

In Elysian Park, as the moon rose higher, something he'd hoped never to experience again stirred inside Leo. Freedom, it whispered. The hunt. The kill. The hot taste of blood… Quince is making me feel this way, he warned himself. He wants me to change and run with him. But I won't. I'm not a beast, I'm a man. "How close now?" Wolf spoke softly but his voice startled Leo. "Damn close. And I don't sense interference from Marti any longer." "He's left her behind. Good." "But I think--" Leo paused, frowning. "Up until this minute I've always been sure whether Quince was shifted or not. I think he's Quince again rather than the beast but--" He shook his head. "I don't really know." Wolf put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't try so hard." Leo started to tell Wolf about his own urge to shift, then changed his mind. It was no more than an urge, one he wouldn't give in to. Couldn't, as long as he wore the amulet. Leo's hand crept up until his fingers caressed the rune etched into the steel oval he wore on a leather thong around his neck. The rune Iwaz, symbolizing the yew tree, his protection against evil. The rune that had been meant for his brother. Waino had explained the power of the amulet on the day of Grandmother Liisi's funeral, that dreadful day that Quince had shifted for the first time. "The steel encloses a bit of Grandfather Sergei's noita charm against shapeshifting," Waino said. "A powerful deterrent. As for the rune, Liisi herself chose the one best suited to your brother. Since twins are one made two, Iwaz will work for you as well. If you learn to hold the shape of Iwaz in your mind and your heart as well as in your hand, you'll be forever safe from shifting, no matter how great the temptation." "If I keep the amulet, what about Quince?" Leo had protested. "Quincy will never willingly wear the amulet so Iwaz can't protect him. And neither can anything else." Waino's words had been chillingly final. In the park's moonlit darkness, surrounded by the spicy scent of a nearby pepper tree, Leo silently began the Finnish chant against shifting that Waino had also taught him. It had been a long time since he'd needed the words and when he tried to recall them, the whisper returned to distract him.

Join me under the moon. Run with me. Be free. Quince! Leo's hand dropped from the amulet as he whirled around, staring into the shadows between the trees, seeking his brother. "Is he here?" Wolf's voice was a mere thread of sound. Leo didn't answer immediately, bemused by the strong linkage with his twin. "Leo!" Wolf's fingers closed on Leo's shoulders, forcing him to turn away from the shadows. "Remember why we're here." Leo struggled to focus on what Wolf was saying. "If you give way," Wolf warned, "the Voleks are doomed." Doomed. Doomed. The word tolled in Leo's mind. Must he doom Quince to save the rest of the family? He was wrestling with the question when a red mist began to spread across his mind. He knew what it meant and his heart sank. Dealing with Quince was one thing but the beast was something else entirely. "No!" In his desperation he shouted his plea. "No! "Don't shift, Quince!" A long drawn-out howl was his only answer. Leo's first thought was for Wolf's safety. Before the howl died away he grabbed Wolf's arm. "Put your back to the tree," he urged. "I'll stand in front of you to protect you from his attack." Wolf pulled away. "No need to protect me; I'll climb the damn tree." He jumped for the lowest branch and swung himself up as effortlessly as a man half his age. They both knew the beast could climb a tree if he wished but at least Wolf was beyond reach for the moment. "Call him to you," Wolf urged from his perch on the tree limb. Leo swallowed. Once the beast came close enough, Wolf would expect him to use the silver dagger sheathed at his belt. Expect him to kill his own brother. As he struggled to come to terms with what he knew to be his duty, Leo absently scratched the suddenly itching bite scar on his left arm. Only when he reached, slowly and reluctantly, for the knife hilt, did he realize his own danger. Leo's hand stopped in midair and crept up to grasp the amulet. The damn bite hadn't burned like this for years. Not since Quince's first shifting. The one and only time he'd shifted, too. "No, please God, no," he whispered. If he shifted, Wolf would die--no human armed only with a dagger, even if it was silver, could withstand two beasts.

Wolf would die--and how many others? Elysian Park was a tiny wilderness within a great city. If he changed and he and Quince tried to escape from Los Angeles as beasts they'd be forced to kill or be killed. He wasn't a killer, either by choice or by instinct, but Quince was. His twin was more beast than human. He wanted Quince to live but not at Wolf's expense. Not at the expense of other innocent lives. In his mind he heard Waino's words to Wolf. "As strong as this rune is, if his brother is free and in beast form, the amulet may not protect Leo. If Quincy wants him as a companion, wants him as a beast, their twin bond may be stronger." Leo closed his eyes and pictured Iwaz as he traced the rune's shape with his fingers. "Begone, shadow of darkness," he chanted in Finnish. "I do not choose to walk the bloody path--" A gunshot froze him. The beast roared in pain that was half challenge. Overhead, Wolf cried, "Stalker!" The dreaded word released Leo. He yanked the dagger from its sheath and sprang forward as the beast loped toward him. Though a knife might be of little use against a stalker with a gun, Leo knew he'd die before he'd let Quince be killed by a deadly enemy of all Voleks. The gun cracked again and a burning pain seared along Leo's right side. He stumbled and fell to one knee. In front of him the beast stopped abruptly, whirling with a snarl to face the shadows where the stalker waited. The silver haze of moonlight faded, leaving the park in complete darkness. Save yourself! Leo urged the beast. Run! He struggled to his feet, bracing himself against the next bullet as he stumbled through the dark toward where he believed the stalker was hiding. Whoever it was, man or woman, must die. Not just to save Quince but to protect the clan. Stalkers killed not only shifters but anyone related to shifters. Leo heard a surprised grunt ahead of him, then the unmistakable sounds of two men fighting. Wolf, he thought. Aided by the dark, Wolf must have crept up behind the stalker and jumped him. Together he and I will best the bastard. Struggling against a strange weakness that threatened to fell him, Leo staggered on. A man shouted in rage and pain. The beast snarled. A gun roared in Leo's ears. Then the moon reappeared, flooding the park with pale light.

Two men, Wolf and another, lay sprawled on the ground, the beast standing over them, fangs bared. With the last of his strength, Leo flung himself forward and collapsed half on top of Wolf. Staring up at the beast, Leo saw blood matting the fur on his left flank Run, he warned the beast, cramming as much urgency into his thoughts as he could, hoping enough human remained so Quince would be able to save himself. Get away before others come. Shift back and find someone to dig out that silver bullet. If you don’t it’ll poison you and you’ll die. One lives. Kill. The beast's thought came through hazily. Leo looked into Wolf's face and saw his grandfather's one eye staring at him. Not staring, thank God, with the glaze of death. Leo could see no visible wound on him, either. Wolf's silver dagger was buried to the hilt in the stalker's chest. Much as Leo hated to touch him, he forced himself to lay a hand over the man's heart. He felt no beat. Go, he urged the beast. The right one is dead. You’ll have to kill me to harm the other. The beast growled deep in his throat. Gazing at the vicious fangs and lethal talons, for one awful moment Leo thought he meant to attack. Too weak to search for the dagger he'd dropped, he threw a protective arm over his throat. Never you, brother. The beast's thought was tinged with sadness. Leo watched him turn away and limp into the shadows under the trees, staring after him until Wolf's hoarse whisper returned his attention to his grandfather. "Dead?" Wolf rasped. "You killed the stalker," Leo assured him. Wolf nodded. When he spoke again Leo eyed him with alarm, noticing how great an effort it took him to talk. "Remember. Beth. Tell Waino." A trickle of blood ran from the corner of Wolf's mouth. He tried to say more but only a rattle came from his throat. As Leo gaped down at him in apprehension, belatedly realizing the truth, Wolf arched upward and fell back to move no more. Frantically Leo searched for a nonexistent heartbeat. Only then did he see the dark pool spreading from underneath Wolf's body. The stalker had killed after all. Leo slumped onto his grandfather and wept like a child, aware of nothing else but the loss of Wolf.

Waino parked the truck near the park entrance and began tramping along the roads, searching. After a while he heard a faint sobbing and followed the sound into the woods. He traced the noise to its source and halted in grieved horror at the moonlit death scene. After a time he helped Leo to his feet, but Leo, blood oozing from his side, was too weak to walk and had to be eased onto the ground. Waino hurried to bring the truck as close as possible to where they lay. Not touching the dead stranger, he halfdragged, half-carried Leo to the truck and propped him in the front. Bringing an old blanket, he returned for Wolf. When he finally angled the blanket-wrapped body of his friend onto the truck bed, Waino leaned his head against the tailguard, wracked by grief as much as exhaustion. As soon as he gathered the energy, he climbed into the cab with the already feverish Leo. "Wolf said tell you," Leo mumbled, his words almost unintelligible. "Vision. Liisi. You teach Beth." On the long ride toward the San Gabriel Mountains, Waino sorted out Leo's ramblings enough to understand that Wolf, evidently because of a vision of Liisi, was entrusting him with Beth's training as a shaman. Once Liisi visited him with such a message, Wolf must have known he was to die, Waino told himself. His throat ached with grief. Why Wolf? Why couldn't Quincy have died instead, solving their problem? From Leo's disjointed words, he gathered that the stalker had wounded the beast with a silver bullet. Waino hoped the poison would finish Quincy but, somehow, he doubted it. Unfortunately, Leo also had been shot with a silver bullet and was enough of a shifter to be poisoned, too. He didn't dare bring Leo to a doctor or a hospital lest a connection be made between his injuries and the dead stalker in Elysian Park. Besides, no doctor would understand what was wrong with Leo or know how to cure him. If he didn't reach the mountains soon enough, if he didn't locate a hiding place, if he couldn't find the right plants to treat Leo, there'd be another Volek death. And still not the right one.

Chapter 5 "...bringing the total to five dead. Authorities believe four of the deaths may be related but, to quote Sheriff Riggs, the fifth victim's injuries appeared to be different. The sheriff refused further comment on the fifth body, found in Elysian Park, other than to say his office was awaiting the coroner's report." Jael bit her lip as she rose from the settee in the lounge and hurried to the elevators. Disturbed because none of the men had returned to the hotel and fearing the worst, Druse had asked her to go down to the lobby to listen to the noon news radio broadcast. By the time the elevator stopped at her floor, Jael had decided not to mention the four people found dead in their houses near Arroyo Seco. There was little doubt in her mind

that Marti was responsible but she needed to discuss it with Waino before speaking to anyone else. Where was Waino? Dead, his throat torn out by the beast? She shuddered. When Jael returned to the suite, Marti was still asleep in one of the bedrooms. "One death," Druse said, after listening to Jael's truncated version of the broadcast. "But there were three in the park--Wolf, Waino, and Leo." "Quincy might have been there." Jael's voice shook as she said the beast's name. "Plus what your husband called a stalker." "One death," Druse repeated, as though she hadn't heard Jael's words. "Why hasn't Wolf called us?" Jael shook her head. Druse's dark eyes fixed on Jael but both her gaze and her thoughts seemed far away. Neither spoke for some time. "I imagine you'd like to cut loose from the Voleks and never set eyes on any of us again," Druse said finally. Part of Jael agreed fervently. The Voleks were dangerous, to say the least. Even Marti. But in her entire life no one had ever really needed her. Needed the person Jael Steinmetz was. Marti did. If she left, who was there for Marti? No one could understand her as Jael did. Though the beast terrified her, strangely Jael felt no real fear of Marti, despite what she knew the little girl had done. Marti hadn't meant to kill those people, she was sure of it. The child's terror had driven her to unleash some terrible power she likely enough didn't even yet realize she possessed. If Jael left the Voleks, who would be able to teach Marti to curb such awful power? "I promised Marti I'd stay at Volek House," Jael said at last. "I've never broken a promise to a child. Unless you ask me to leave, I'll keep my word." Druse burst into tears and flung her arms around Jael. The phone rang. When Druse continued to sob, Jael pulled away and picked up the receiver. "Volek suite," she said. "Who is this?" a woman's voice demanded. "Jael Steinmetz, Marti's nursemaid." "Oh, God, what are you doing there?" "I'm here with Marti. Would you like to speak to Mrs. Waisenen?" "Where's Wolf?" "I'm sorry, Mrs. Waisenen is the only other person in the suite." "Put Druse on, then."

Wiping her eyes, still sniffling, Druse took the phone. "Melanie?" she exclaimed in surprise after listening for a moment. "I thought you'd sailed off on your honeymoon." She listened again. Rather than eavesdrop, Jael eased into the bedroom to check on Marti. The little girl was still curled up on the bed but her pale eyes were open. Jael sat beside her and Marti climbed into her lap, clinging tightly. Is he gone? Marti asked. The dark hunter? There’s no dark hunter in our rooms. Were you dreaming? Marti stuck her thumb in her mouth. Bad dreams. I want to go home. Tell mama. A few minutes later Druse came into the bedroom. "Melanie's quite upset over what's happened," she said, resting a hand momentarily on her daughter's hair. "She's sending the Eastman chauffeur over to the hotel to drive us back to Volek House." Druse crossed to the window and stared down at the street. Mama’s mad, Marti thought. Jael had gathered as much from the curl of anger in Druse's words. Druse spoke without turning. "I'm sending you and Marti with the chauffeur. I'm staying here until--" She straightened her shoulders. "My father told me to wait here and I will." "I think Marti will be happier at Volek House than she is in the city," Jael said. Druse whirled to face her. "If only I knew where the three of them were!" Jael felt Marti tense. I can’t feel Leo or Quincy anymore, the child confided. Because they were too far away? Or because one of them was dead? "Melanie has no right to tell me what to do," Druse snapped. "She never has cared about anyone except herself. All she's worried about is how her career and her marriage will be affected if--" Druse hesitated, eyeing Marti. "If what was mentioned on the news proves to have any connection with the family. She wants us all to leave Los Angeles immediately." Druse took a deep breath. "I can't go." Jael nodded. Not with Druse's husband, her twin sons and her father still unaccounted for. "The Voleks don't welcome outsiders," Druse said, clasping Jael's hand, "but you're different. And God knows we need your help. I'm glad you haven't been frightened off."

High in the San Gabriel Mountains, Waino left Leo in a tree branch lean-to by a stream while he loaded Wolf's blanket-wrapped body and a spade he'd stolen from a farmer's barn onto a crude travois. He hauled the travois over the rough terrain until he came to a shaded dell where the ground was soft. There he stopped and began to dig Wolf's grave. While he dug he talked to the dead man. "I know you prefer the Sierras, my friend, but I hope you'll rest easy in these mountains for I have no choice. How can I bring your dead body home to Volek House? I must bury you here to protect the family. We will mourn you in private to avoid awkward questions; outsiders won't even suspect you're dead." Because he was an albino with no protective pigmentation in his skin, Waino had to protect himself from the sun. Since its rays slanted through the live oak branches, he couldn't remove his broad-brimmed hat or his long-sleeved jacket. Sweat trickled down his face as he bent his back to the digging. "I wouldn't work this hard for anyone but you," he informed Wolf. "How I'll miss you! Rest assured I'll do as you ask and train Beth in the pathways of the spirit. God grant I live long enough for her to grow old enough to be a companion to me." Ah, but Beth was so young. He loved his wife but she was not his mind's companion. Who would share his interests until Beth matured? The young woman who mind-talked with Marti might be a possibility. Would her attachment to Marti be strong enough to tie her permanently to the family? "You sensed Jael belonged with us, didn't you, my wise friend Wolf? And now you've gone away and left me a legacy: One way or another, I must see that she remains at Volek House, see that she remains to save us from the doom old Bear Claw warned would befall the family without her. And so I shall. First, though, she has questions to answer. Jael Steinmetz is an enigma I look forward to solving." Some time later, Waino eased Wolf's blanket-clad body into the grave. He stood, removed a round white stone, an acorn and a small silver cross from his pocket. As he dropped the stone onto the body, he whispered, "May this pebble keep your body at rest." Dropping the acorn, he chanted, "As this seed holds the promise of the oak, may your spirit realize the splendor of rebirth." He held the cross high in the air, turning it to the four directions before dropping it into the grave. His voice

rose as he cried, "May the sacred amulet hold back the forces of darkness forever." After he shoveled the dirt back into the hole, he hauled rocks on the travois and piled them atop the grave. Last of all he chanted a noita charm to keep away animals. Then he returned to the feverish, delirious Leo and dosed him with another infusion of steeped roots and bark before carefully washing the festering wound along Leo's ribs. Plastering a thick coating of aloe mixed with mountain misery seeds over the wound, Waino muttered, "You're damned lucky, my boy, that the stalker's silver bullet only grazed you. If all goes well we can go home tomorrow." "Quince!" Leo cried, struggling weakly to sit up. Waino pushed him down. "Be calm. Rest. Your brother's not here." "He's gone," Leo mumbled. "Can't feel Quince anywhere. He's gone." His face puckered like a child's. "All alone," he whimpered. "Never been all alone before." Tears rolled down his cheeks. While Waino did his best to soothe Leo, he wondered what the severing of communication between the twins meant. He hoped like hell Quincy was dead. But he knew shifters were notoriously hard to kill. Two days later the family, including Druse, but without Melanie, was under one roof again--at Volek House. "We must mourn Wolf singly, in private," Waino advised the gathered adults after the children were in bed. He felt it was just as well that Leo was still to weak to be up--the boy was in no condition to hear what he had to say. Jael, not being a family member, hadn't been invited. Again, for the best. Since she'd done it once before, Arno and Ivan had assumed Marti was responsible for freeing Quincy. Waino hadn't told them they were wrong. He wasn't so much protecting Jael for her sake as for his own purposes. Since Bear Claw's spirit had made the long journey back to tell Wolf she was important to the family, Waino meant to keep her here. Unless she proved to be dangerous. He wasn't yet sure of her. "Remember," Waino said to the others, "to the younger children and to the world, Wolf's not dead, he's merely off on another of his excursions. Since Melanie's on her honeymoon, she hasn't been told of his death. Perhaps it's as well." "Melanie will be happier not knowing." Samara's voice was sad. "I'd rather she wasn't told the truth even when she

returns." No one objected, so Waino nodded his agreement. "What about Marti?" Arno asked. "Won't she sense the truth?" "If she does," Waino said, "Jael will know and I'll decide how to handle it." "Just how will Jael know?" Ivan demanded. Waino told them about her mind bond with Marti. "If you recall," he added, "Wolf searched for a year before he found the girl and brought her here. Wolf knew from the first she was unusual; he believed she belonged at Volek House." "She's an outsider." Arno and Ivan objected simultaneously. Waino looked from one to the other. "Not any longer. She knows what Quincy is, she knows about stalkers--and more." "If she sees into Marti's mind," Arno said, "why didn't Jael stop Marti from setting Quincy free?" "Jael didn't understand what Quincy was. Not until she saw him." "What use is she if she can't control Marti?" Ivan asked. "In time she will be able to. You all know Marti's not easy to understand." Waino hadn't told anyone about Marti's connection with the Arroyo Seco deaths; he wasn't sure when or if he would. Certainly not until he understood exactly what had happened. Cecelia, leaning against her older son's shoulder, began to weep. "Wolf foresaw his death," she said brokenly. "I should have realized he knew what was ahead from the way he said goodbye to me." "Liisi's spirit came to warn him." Waino's voice was gentle. "A man is fortunate to have the time to say goodbye to those he loves before death claims him." His words failed to comfort Cecelia. Others chimed in, asking questions and voicing opinions but it was clear they all wanted to keep Wolf's death a secret. And why shouldn't they? Waino asked himself. The lie is to save all our necks and they know it. "As for Quincy," he put in when he had the chance, "Leo no longer senses him anywhere. I can't be sure but I suspect either Quincy is dead or he's put so many miles between himself and Leo that their bond has failed. This would mean that, if not dead, he's far from Volek House." "If I were Quincy, I'd run as far and fast as I could," Arno said. "I don't ever want to shift again but I ama

shifter and I understand how he feels. Imprisonment in the tower?" Arno shook his head. "Not for me." "Nor me!" Reynolds' voice was fervent. "After the first time I shifted I promised myself never again. But being locked up--" He grimaced. "Death in life, that's what it is." Cecelia shuddered. "Better by far to be dead," she whispered. When the gathering broke up, Waino went in search of Jael. When he found her sitting in her bedroom rocker beside the sleeping Marti, he beckoned her into the hall. "Come with me," he said and led her to the tower stairs. Jael hugged herself as she followed Waino up the stone steps. Though it wasn't warm in the tower, her chill came from her all-too-vivid recollection of the horror she'd seen here. It was one thing to tell herself she'd stay at Volek House because Marti needed her but quite another to realize that Quincy was actually Marti's half-brother. At the top of the stairs, Waino unlocked the tower room, flung open the door, and gestured to her to precede him. Wishing herself elsewhere, Jael stepped hesitantly inside. Apparently Waino had turned a switch outside the room for it was dimly illuminated by four electric lights high on the stone walls. The furnishings were pathetically few--a cot, a table, one chair and a commode stand. The wood of the table top was heavily gouged and splintered. As she wrinkled her nose against the feral smell in the air, she tried not to visualize the beast ripping through the wood with his cruel, sharp talons. Waino set down a stool he'd brought in from outside the room. "Please sit," he said. She chose the stool rather than the chair, folded her hands in her lap and waited. Years of experience had taught her how to hide her unease. Waino dropped onto the chair. "Leo used to sit on that stool on the other side of the door and talk to Quincy by the hour to keep him calm," he said. "We couldn't afford to have the day help suspect what we hid in the tower and Leo was the only one Quincy would heed. Leo, and sometimes Marti. You do know what Quincy is, don't you?" "A--a beast." "Not all the time. Sometimes he looks and acts as human as his twin." Jael swallowed. Deep inside her she'd known Quincy couldn't have been born a beast but she didn't really want to

know any more about him, didn't wish to hear what Waino apparently intended to tell her. She raised her hands defensively. "If you're to stay at Volek House, you must know the Volek history," he said, his pale eyes, so like Marti's, probing hers. "The family has a dark heritage that goes far back to their very beginnings. Voleks came originally from the ancient forests of Mother Russia." "Please," she begged, terrified that whatever he was about to tell her was somehow connected with her own inner darkness, "there's no need to--" "Ah, but there is. To understand Marti you must first understand her family and accept us as we are." “You’re not a Volek." "Not by birth, no. My cousin Liisi married the founder of the American clan, Sergei Volek, thus entwining the bloodline of the Waisenens with that of the Voleks. Before she died she arranged for me to come here and take her place after she was gone, believing the family needed me. As they did and as they still do. Once here I met Druse." Waino smiled. "We seem an odd pair to you, perhaps, but love is blind. And so we married and together we produced a Volek." He sighed. "I admit I don't entirely understand Marti." Seeing her chance to deflect him, Jael said, "I want to talk to you about what happened in Los Angeles--" He held up a hand. "I agree we need to discuss how and why that man--and the three others--died. But later. Russia first. I intend to tell you the story as Sergei, a man I never met, heard it from his father and told it to his own sons. "A very long time ago, when the family forebears lived on the edge of the Russian forest, a pretty girl named Samara couldn't be stopped from wandering in the forest despite the danger of wolves. And of worse. "The local Wise Woman warned Samara that the lieshui, the spirits of the forest, would ensorcel her but the girl refused to listen. Though Samara had paid no attention to the village youths who came to court her, one day she brought a stranger home with her, a yellow-eyed man dressed in silver-gray who wore a cloak of wolfskins. She said his name was Volek and from then on she'd look at no other man. "Her family, along with the rest of the villagers, disliked and feared this man from the forest, but when it became clear Samara was with child, her father gave her to the stranger in marriage. "On the night after the wedding, a full moon rose. It

was then the Wise Woman crept into the bedroom of Samara's father and woke him. 'Death rides the moon,' she hissed. 'You have welcomed a beast into your home, you have wedded your daughter to a son of the forest spirits, an oborot who is both man and beast. Rise and stab him with a silver knife while he sleeps or he will kill you all and gobble your hearts before morning.' "Samara's father roused his three sons and, armed with knives, they slipped into the bridal chamber and fell on the slumbering groom. The sons withdrew in terror when the stranger's flesh, penetrated by their steel knives, closed over immediately. But the father's silver knife rose and fell until blood stained the bedcovers and dripped onto the floor. "The bridegroom howled and collapsed upon the bed. Though they believed he must be dead, when he began to change into a horrible beast the men took fright, gathered up the screaming Samara and ran from the room, carrying her to the Wise Woman. "She forced infusion of herbs down the girl's throat to rid her of the child she carried. When the father and his sons returned to drag away and burn the mortally wounded beast, he was gone. Neither he nor the stranger named Volek were ever seen again. "Samara didn't miscarry despite all the potions she was fed. When she was finally brought to the birthing stool, she fell into a trance when the first child was born and died as the second child slipped from her womb. Her father meant to kill the babies but when he saw how human they looked, identical twin boys who, except for their golden eyes, resembled his own sons when they had been babes, he didn't have the heart. "The old Wise Woman, who might have convinced him the twins must not live, was dead herself by this time, savaged by a wolf while she hunted for firewood in the forest. Or at least the villagers preferred to believe it was a wolf. "Samara's twins grew to manhood and the full moon rose and one of them--changed. The villagers waited and stabbed him through the heart with a silver dagger when he returned to human form. And so he died, but his twin escaped, fleeing to a faraway city. There he took the name of Volek which was his by right and in due course luck brought him a wealthy wife who bore him nine children, none of them twins." Waino paused. Jael took a deep breath, deliberately breaking the trance the tale had cast over her. "Sergei Volek was

descended from this surviving twin?" she asked. Waino nodded. "Sergei was a twin himself. His father had violated the admonition handed down to each eldest son along with the story, a warning that if identical twins sons were born they must not be allowed to live. Sergei's father couldn't bring himself to kill the twins his wife delivered. Instead, he sent them as children to Kamchatka with a trusted Cossack who had orders to kill the twin who shifted at manhood and bring the other home. For, you see, only one of identical twin sons would become a shapeshifter." Shapeshifter. The word raised the hair on Jael's nape. "Quincy," she whispered. "Yes, Quincy is a shapeshifter. Like Sergei was. In Kamchatka, the normal twin died. Sergei, the shifter, survived and boarded a ship that eventually brought him to America. Since then, no Volek child, twin or otherwise, has been deliberately killed. And the family has discovered that it's not necessary to be a twin to inherit the dark trait. Nor do all shifters need to be exposed to a full moon before they can change into beasts. You saw Quincy, you know how monstrous a beast can be." "He--he would have killed me. Marti intervened." "So you told me at the time. Fortunately all Volek shifters aren't uncontrolled, like Quincy." Jael's eyes widened in shock as she remembered that Arno and Ivan were twins. Waino nodded. "I see it's occurred to you Quincy might not be the only shapeshifter in Volek House. You're right, Arno is one. So is Reynolds. And Cecelia, though she isn't a Volek by blood as far as we know. When he grows into manhood, it's been predicted little Curtis will shift, too." "My God!" "What I'm trying to tell you is that Arno, Reynolds and Cecelia have completely controlled their shifting and refuse to set their inner beast free. We'll do our best to teach Curtis how to control himself when the time comes." Jael swallowed. "I've read tales of werewolves, but I never believed them. And Quincy really wasn't wolflike. He was--he was--" Her voice faltered. "Horrible." "Yes. A beast has no conscience; he's filled only with the lust for blood. Now you understand why we kept Quincy imprisoned and why we hunted him when he escaped." Jael shuddered. "I didn't mean to--I don't know why I let him out." She glanced at the open door. "I recall Marti telling me that we mustn't unlock the door but it was as though someone else turned the key."

"And was it someone else?" Waino's voice remained even but his gaze grew hard and inimical. Jael's hands clenched together as she tried to block the frightening memory of the crimson darkness that had surrounded her before the beast escaped. "No! I’m not a shapeshifter!" "Since Wolf would have known if you were, I believe you. But are you something else? Something just as dangerous or even more so? Have we welcomed a viper named Jael Steinmetz into Volek House?"

Chapter 6 "Marti's awake, she wants me," Jael said, rising from the stool. "I must go to her." Keeping her mind closed to Marti, she fled down the stone steps of the tower, relieved by the summons, relieved she wouldn't have to lie to Waino. How could she tell him about the darkness that sometimes overwhelmed her when even thinking of it might invite another invasion? Jael hated the sense of creeping evil that slithered into her mind with the crimson darkness, she loathed and feared the suspension of her senses, making her unaware of what she might have done while under the dark command. The only person she'd ever told about the darkness was Yuba and Yuba had been as frightened as she was. "The same thing used to happen to--" Yuba had paused, her eyes narrowing. "But you're mine, not hers." She gathered Jael to her and cried, "Do you hear? This child is mine. Mine! You shan't have her." Later, when Jael had asked what she'd meant, Yuba denied every word she'd said. "I'm your mother, that's all you need to know." As Jael hurried along the corridor to her room, she prayed that the invading evil wouldn't return to change her into the viper Waino feared.

I work up and you weren’t here, Marti accused as soon as Jael stepped through the door. And you wouldn’t let me in. I’m sorry. I was with your father in the tower. I came as soon as you called me. Marti's eyes shifted from her to the open door. To Jael's dismay, she saw that Waino had followed her. He came into the bedroom and closed the door. "Sit down, Jael," he said. "We're not finished with our discussion." He looked at his daughter. "Since you're awake, Marti, we'll include you." Jael sat on the side of the bed and put an arm around Marti. The child snuggled close but her attention was fixed on her father. Waino eased into the rocker. "You remember being in Los Angeles, don't you Marti?" he asked. Marti nodded. "Do you remember disobeying me and crawling under the fence to go after the beast?" Marti nodded again, her brows drawing together. The beast wouldn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t stop, she told Jael. Then the dark hunter came and scared me. And what happened after that? Jael asked. Marti blinked, confusion shadowing her pale eyes. Then I woke up in the truck with you and papa. "Marti recalls trying to stop the beast," Jael told Waino. "And being afraid of the dark hunter. After that she says she woke up in the truck." Waino sighed. "Amnesia. Perhaps it's best for her, considering. I do believe she's telling the truth. But what about you, Jael? Do you really not remember what happened in the tower when Quincy was set free?" You got all dark inside, Marti told her. I couldn’t understand you. Jael bent her head, biting her lip. Don’t be scared, Marti begged. The dark went away. Jael took a deep breath. The darkness might be gone but she had no assurance it wouldn't return. And what might happen if it did? She had no control over her actions then. What if something she did harmed Marti? She'd never forgive herself. Making up her mind to admit the truth, no matter what the result, she raised her head and looked at Waino. "Marti says my mind turned dark and she couldn't read my thoughts. When that happens to me I don't know what I do. I'm not myself until the darkness lifts and even then I have no memory of what went on." You unlocked the door and let Quincy out, Marti said.

I told you not to but you wouldn’t stop. Jael hugged Marti reassuringly. "Marti says she begged me not to unlock the door but that I paid no attention. Actually, I didn't sense her telling me or even her presence. I sensed nothing at all. I never do when the darkness comes. So perhaps you have the right to worry." Waino didn't speak for so long that Jael became convinced he was getting ready to dismiss her from Volek House. "How often does this darkness come over you?" he asked at last. "Never more than twice in one year," she said. "I'd been free of it for almost two years until what happened in the tower." "You call it a darkness. Can you be more specific?" "I'll try. An evil crimson fog shrouds me so I can't see, hear or feel anything outside that fog. A--a voice--" "What kind of a voice?" Fear gripped Jael, closing her throat. She pulled Marti onto her lap and the feel of the child's warm body eased her tension enough so she was able to force words past her constricted throat. "A woman's voice, an evil voice, a voice from the long dead past." "How do you know the voice is from the dead past?" Jael blinked. "I--I have no idea. I just do. I can never recall what she says but the dreadful sound of her voice comes back to me in nightmares. I have to do what she says; I can't help myself." "Are you religious?" Waino's question surprised her. "I believe in God, if that's what you mean." "Do you follow any particular religion?" "No. When I lived in the Catholic orphanage I had to attend Mass but I wasn't an orphan until I was ten. Before that my mother, who was Jewish, taught me her beliefs. Perhaps that's why I was never able to accept all the Sisters tried to teach me." "Your father--was he also a Jew?" Jael flushed with mixed resentment and embarrassment, feeling as though Waino was forcing her to bare her soul. "My mother refused to say one word about him. I never even heard his name." Marti reached up and patted her cheek. "I'm sorry if I distress you," Waino said, "but the safety of the family is all important."

"I understand." Jael's annoyance fled, leaving sad resignation. Now that Waino knew she couldn't be trusted, obviously she'd have to leave. "So your background is a mystery to you," he said. She nodded. No matter how she'd begged, Yuba would never talk about the past. "Did your mother have red hair?" Waino asked. "No, hers was dark and straight." Jael touched her carroty curls. "I've often wondered if my father's hair was like mine." Marti wound a red curl around her finger. I like your hair. I wish mine was red. Yours is beautiful, Jael assure nothing. He was as much a Volek as Sara, the shadowed twin. When she was discharged from the hospital, she drove back with David every day to visit Zach and Sara as they grew and thrived in the newborn nursery. "I can't wait until they're big enough to take home with us," she said to David, to the nurses and to Oscar. "They're so sweet, such darlings." She was especially charming to Oscar, though she'd disliked him from the moment she met him--a snotty rich man's son if ever there was one. His mother was dead, as were his paternal grandparents and, between his mother's folks and David, he'd been spoiled rotten. But she knew it pleased David to see her so friendly with the boy and she was determined to do her best to disarm everyone around her. "I must have been out of my mind that night I cut myself," she confided to David on the morning of the day they were to bring the twins home. "How could I have been so foolish?" He smiled at her indulgently. "The important thing is you're back to normal now, darling. I'm told pregnancy can be hard on some women and I swear we'll never risk it for you again." Too late, she thought, masking her bitterness with a grateful smile. "You're so wonderful," she cooed. He hugged her to him. "I'm so glad my sweet little wife has returned to me. Before they left the house, Melanie deliberately made a last minute tour of the nursery where Mrs. Larson, the baby nurse they'd hired, was folding diapers. "I wanted to make certain everything was in order," Melanie said with the right tinge of concern in her voice. "In perfect order, ma'am. Are you sure you don't want me along when you collect the babies?"

"Quite sure, thank you." Afraid she'd spoken too abruptly, Melanie took care to smile warmly at the nurse. "It's such a special occasion that I'd like Mr. Eastman and me to be alone with the babies, just the four of us. Our little family driving home together. We'll have no trouble-the twins will be safe and happy in the car baby beds we've installed in the Daimler. Everything will be lovely. Just lovely." "I hope so, indeed, ma'am." "Thank you, Mrs. Larson." At the hospital, the two nurses carrying Zach and Sara, made a great fuss about getting them settled into the car beds and strapping them in. Melanie curbed her impatience, lavishing praise on the nurses for their wonderful care of the twins. By the time David pulled the car away from the curb, everyone was smiling except the babies. They were whimpering. Luckily, the soothing motion of the car soon quieted them or Melanie might not have been able to hold to her pretense of being a devoted mother and loving wife. And she must, for the crucial moment was only minutes away. She'd planned long and carefully, she'd studied every foot of the winding road along the canyon, and she'd analyzed every nuance of David's driving. She felt no guilt at all where he was concerned--why should she? He deserved to be punished; it was entirely his fault the twins had been born. Despite herself, Melanie glanced back once at the babies. Zach was sound asleep but Sara's dark eyes were open and staring straight at her. Almost as though she understands what I mean to do, Melanie thought. Given that Sara was a Volek, perhaps she did. But it made no difference. Melanie faced forward again, waiting. "Are they all right?" David asked. "Of course, darling." She went on murmuring about their sweet babies, all the time watching the road. As David approached the next curve, she suddenly cried, "A dog! Watch out!" When he tensed, his attention on the road, she grabbed the steering wheel and turned it sharply, wrenching the wheel from his control. He had time for one startled shout before the Daimler careened across the narrow shoulder and plunged down the steep canyon wall. Melanie rode smiling to her death, absolutely certain they'd all be killed. The car tumbled downward, caroming off rocks and smashing into trees. David, flung halfway through the

windshield, died instantly; seconds later Melanie was crushed to death by a boulder. The Daimler came to rest halfway down the slope, caught against the trunk of a huge sycamore, its front end smashed beyond recognition. In the relatively undamaged rear of the car, strapped in their padded beds, Zach and Sara began to scream. Two boy scouts, hiking in the canyon, rescued the babies before the car caught fire. After the double funeral, twenty-year-old Oscar Eastman, the closest relative, made it clear he resented being responsible for his infant half-brother and sister. He made no objection at all when Samara and Ivan offered to bring the twins to Volek House and raise them there. "A terrible accident," Ivan said to Oscar. "It was a miracle Zach and Sara survived." Oscar scowled. "Accident? Maybe. But my father was a very careful driver. Too cautious, even. No offense meant, but everyone's aware craziness comes and goes-personally, I think Melanie went berserk again." Samara and Ivan carried that disturbing thought back to Volek House along with the babies, arriving on the last day of October. Zach’s going to be a shifter, Marti told Jael the same evening. But I can’t tell what Sara’s like ‘cause I can’t see into her. She’s all dark like you were when you set Quincy free. Jael brushed aside the mention of her darkness, refusing to dwell on it. Instead she deliberately pictured the tiny baby boy with his wide golden eyes. That helpless infant a shapeshifter? It was hard to believe. Beth’s got a dark place in her, too, but not all through like Sara, Marti went on. I ‘spect that’s why papa’s going to teach Beth to be like Wolf. Jael's brow furrowed. Like Wolf? You know, to be a shaman. Beth was only a year older than Marti. Whatever a shaman was, surely a seven-year-old was too young to learn the necessary skills. Beth doesn’t like me, Marti observed, ‘cause Curtis does. She wants him all to herself. Devoted to Marti's care, Jael hadn't paid much attention to the other children at Volek House: Samara and Ivan's daughter Beth, seven; Arno and Griselda's son Curtis, eight; and Bren Volek, four, apparently a Chinese orphan taken in by the family. There was some mystery about Bren that Jael didn't yet understand. Melanie's twins brought the total to six children at

Volek House. Zach and Sara came here on Halloween, Marti told her. Maybe that means Sara will turn out to be a witch. Marti's smile meant she was making a joke but the idea sent a chill through Jael. Since she'd arrived at Volek House she was no longer certain of anything. If shapeshifters existed, wasn't there a possibility witches could? Not Halloween caricatures of witches but real ones. I hope Sara’s no such thing, Jael thought. Papa’s cousin was a noita. That’s a Finnish witch. Grandmother Liisi’s dead now but papa says she was a better witch than he’ll ever be just like Wolf was a better shaman that papa. Shaman. Jael didn't even know what the word meant. She must have communicated this to Marti. Shaman’s make spirit journeys, Marti explained. Sort of like I did with the owl, I guess. Jael was totally at sea. With the owl? When I was almost four. I scared everybody ‘cause they thought I got lost. Only I didn’t. This big white owl kept calling to me every night so I went outside and followed some circles and pretty soon I was flying with the owl. It was scary but I liked it. No one ‘cept you knows I flew with the white owl. I might’ve gone again but then everybody started watching me all the time so I never got another chance. Jael put an arm around Marti. She didn't understand exactly what the child had done and she wasn't sure she wanted to understand. But she had to make sure Marti wouldn't get herself into any more danger. She knelt and cupped Marti's face with her hands. Promise you’ll tell me before you go off to fly with owls or before you leave the house at all. Marti nodded. Maybe you can come with me next time. The very idea of such strangeness was almost more than Jael could cope with but she didn't want to say anything to Marti that might tempt the child to break her promise so she temporized. We’ll see. She rose and took Marti's hand. Time for bed. Do you miss Wolf? Marti asked as they climbed the stairs. I do. I’m sorry he’s dead. Jael swallowed. As far as she knew Wolf had gone on a trip. Wolf is dead? That’s why everybody was so sad after we came back from Los Angeles. I guess maybe the dark hunter got him. Marti shivered and gripped Jael's hand tighter. Can I tell you a secret? I may have to tell it to your father, Jael warned.

I guess you can if you have to. Leo’s going away tonight. Though she rarely saw him, Jael knew that Leo had taken months to recuperate from the bullet wound he'd suffered in Elysian Park. Do you mean he’s leaving without telling anyone? she asked. Marti nodded. He’s going ‘cause he needs to find Quincy. It’s like Leo isn’t all there without Quincy. It was Jael's turn to shudder. Twin to a beast! If she were Leo she'd be happy to be rid of such a burden. Maybe you can wait till morning to tell papa. Marti's thought was pleading. ‘Cause Leo needs to leave here awful bad and papa might try to stop him. How? Jael wondered. Surely not by locking Leo in the tower room. She took a deep breath. I’ll tell your father in the morning. But after Marti fell asleep, Jael's conscience began to bother her. Was Leo well enough to leave Volek House? She didn't know. Surely his slipping away under cover of darkness would upset the family. If she couldn't tell Waino until morning, the least she could do was speak to Leo tonight and perhaps persuade him to discuss his journey with Waino before going. Aware that he'd resent her interference, it wasn't easy for Jael to arm herself with enough courage to walk down the corridor to his bedroom. Outside his door, she hesitated, regretting her decision, telling herself it really wasn't any of her business. Before she could decide whether to knock or beat a quick retreat, the door swung inward. Jael stood frozen, staring first at Leo's bare chest, then into his dark eyes. He looked, she thought distractedly, as startled as she felt. He recovered quicker than she. "I knew someone was outside my door. I'm honored to find you here, Miss Steinmetz." Relief colored his words. She decided he must have feared Waino had discovered his plan to leave and meant to stop him. "May I come in?" she asked, amazed at how calm she sounded when inwardly she quaked like gelatin. Though he wore trousers, he was bare to the waist and for some reason he seemed far more naked than any male hospital patient she'd ever taken care of. Leo didn't move from the doorway but one side of his mouth quirked up mockingly. "Any particular reason?" Anger came to her rescue. Considering her plain looks, he must know very well she wasn't expecting a romantic

encounter. "If you insist I tell you while standing in the hall, I will, but I don't believe you'd wish what I have to say overheard." As she spoke, one of Yuba's Russian proverbs slid into her mind, something about two people talking with a threshold between being bad luck. His eyes narrowed. Without a word, he stepped aside. Jael entered into Leo's room almost as reluctantly as she would have if she were going into a real lion's cage. When he swung the door shut she gave a little gasp. Leo heard her. "You're afraid of me, aren't you?" His hand rose and clasped the metal disk he wore around his neck. Jael raised her chin. "Not of you, no. But I do fear you won't like what I have to say." Not for the world would she tell him she'd never in her life been alone with a man in his bedroom. She glanced around her, noting the bulging knapsack by the door, the only evidence that Marti had been right. His hand left the amulet. Before she realized what he meant to do, his forefinger rested on the pulse in her throat. "If you're not afraid of me, why is your heart racing?" he asked. She jerked away from his touch, feeling as though she'd been burned. "I--I came to ask you not to leave like this," she faltered. "I didn't realize you'd miss me." His grin mocked her. "Now that you've told me you will, I'd best say farewell properly." He caught her by the shoulders, pulled her to him, covered her lips with his and kissed her long and hard. When he finally let her go, the dazed Jael stumbled back against the wall and watched numbly as Leo pulled on a shirt. He grabbed his jacket and a cap from the bedpost and hoisted the knapsack onto one shoulder. Hand on the doorknob, he glanced at her. "Au revoir, Miss Steinmetz." He opened the door. Half way out of the room he looked back over his shoulder. "On second thought, goodbye's more appropriate because if you've got any sense you won't be at Volek House when I return." And then he was gone.

Chapter 7 Over lunch in a Randolph Street cafe Leo glanced at the front page of the March 8th Chicago Sun, sliding past the three inch headline: DILLINGER GANG AT WORK, to focus on the picture underneath. His six-month stint as an assistant at one of Chicago's largest portrait studios had given him an eye for a good shot. This one wasn't but, considering the subjects, that didn't matter. The camera--a Kodak Brownie, he'd guess--had caught four men running from a building toward a waiting car. Either the picture taker had been nervous or the blowup of the photograph had rendered details fuzzy, probably both. He could hardly blame the man with the camera--the unexpected chance to snap a picture of John Dillinger in action was enough to make anyone's hands shake. Leo liked his present job better than any he'd tried before. Though he well knew he could have wired home for money at any time in these past six years, he preferred to support himself rather than advertise where he was. He had no illusions about what might happen to Quince once the clan knew he'd located his brother. Leo grimaced. Located, yes, but pinpointed, no. Chicago was one damn big city. All he'd had to go on at first was instinct, the knowledge that he'd head east if he was fleeing for his life. He'd had no doubt Quince would choose the same direction but he'd never expected it would take so long to run his brother to earth. If he actually had. All he had to go on was his strong feeling that Quince wasn't far away and the fact that for the first time since that night in Elysian Park, the bite on his left arm itched when the moon was full. He doubted the itching would occur unless Quince was close enough for his shifting to affect his twin. Yet there'd been no Chicago newspaper stories or news broadcasts of strange killings by beasts. Had Quince mastered control? Leo sighed. He hoped so, but he'd never know until he found his brother. Concentrating again on the photograph, he envied the incredible luck of that passerby who happened to be carrying a camera when Dillinger and his gang erupted from the Security National Bank after the robbery. The Sun had

undoubtedly paid a bundle for the negative. Because he'd seen so many newspaper pictures of him in the last few months, Leo recognized the man on the far right as John Dillinger, undisputed king of bank robbers and fast becoming a local hero to Chicagoans. The three other gangsters would be his cohorts, men whose names and faces Leo couldn't recall, men whose fame lay in their association with Dillinger. He was about to set the paper aside when something about the man on the far left caught his eye. What was it? Not his face. Because of the blurred focus and the way the man was turned it was impossible to make out his features. Leo stared at the photo, finally holding the paper at arm's length to see if that helped. He shook his head, unable to identify what it was that seemed familiar. Ripping the picture from the paper, he stuffed it into his pocket and left the cafe. Later, in the darkroom at the studio, he clipped the photo to the drying rack and stood back to view it, halfclosing his eyes, searching for what could have drawn him to look twice at that particular gangster. He was about to give up when suddenly he realized what it was. The camera had caught the man in mid-stride, making it appear he was running on air. Damned if the fellow didn't lope like an animal. Leo blinked, opened his eyes fully, stepped closer and peered intently at the photo. Loped like a goddamned animal, yes. Like some kind of beast. His heart leaped. Like Quince. Impossible. Quince a gangster? Leo shook his head. If there was a remote chance Quince might be a member of Dillinger's gang where did that get him when even the police had no clue to Dillinger's whereabouts? Leo's memory clicked in. Sometime last week he'd overheard one of the studio's clients boasting to the boss that he was sure he'd spotted Dillinger in a northside night club. The boss had acted suitably impressed--the customer was always right--but afterwards he'd remarked to Leo that there either were a hell of a lot of Dillinger look-alikes in Chicago or a hell of a lot of liars. But what if Dillinger actually had been in that nightclub? The Coliseum, if Leo remembered right. He'd have to go and see for himself, wild goose chase or not--though even if Dillinger did happen to show up there Leo had no guarantee Quince would be with him. Odds were Dillinger and Quince had never met. But what else did he have to go on?

He had to find his brother. Life without Quince was only half a life. And once he found him, he'd tag Quince to the ends of the earth, anything, as long as they were together. That night in his rented room, Leo donned his one good suit, now three years old, found a shirt that wasn't too wrinkled and a fairly clean necktie. He brushed his fedora with the sleeve of his suit coat and set it on his head, giving the hat a forward tilt. As he waited for a streetcar to take him across the city, he realized how eagerly he was looking forward to what for him would be a night on the town. Since he was chronically short of money, his amusements were cheap and few--mostly the movies. But he couldn't complain. After all, unlike a lot of guys in '34, he did have a job. Back in California, he had no doubt the Voleks were riding out the Depression with few, if any, financial problems. The McDee Corporation had become so diversified it was bound to be making money somewhere. Some of that money was his by right. His and Quince's. In their absence, were their shares going into their accounts? Leo shrugged. First things first. At the moment all he really cared about was finding Quince. He arrived late at the Coliseum and, since he couldn't afford to tip the headwaiter, he was seated in an obscure corner behind one of the Roman columns. In spite of this, a cigarette girl, a pretty blonde in an off-one-shoulder very short toga, soon found him. He smiled at her and got a smile in return. Women had always found him attractive, though now his lack of money soon discouraged them. "Haven't seen you here before," she said after he bought a pack of Camels from her. Leo covered up his disappointment. If he didn't look familiar it meant she'd never seen Quince. "Haven't been here before," he said, letting his gaze slide over her appreciatively. "My loss, I see." She slanted him a smile. "Everyone who is anyone shows up at the Coliseum sooner or later." "The mayor?" he asked. "Often." "Governor?" She tossed her curls. "I've seen him here." Leo ran through a few well-known Chicago names before he said, "How about John Dillinger?" "You see that brunette over there?" The blonde pointed to another cigarette girl.

Wolf, craning his neck around the column to look, nodded. "Her name's Kelly Green and everyone knows Johnnie's kind of sweet on her." Leo showed no sign of the excitement he felt. "If he's so crazy about Kelly, how come he lets her go on working here? You'd think a guy who makes money as easy as he does could do more for a girl." "Yeah, well, Kelly don't pop her cork for the first guy who smiles at her. A girl wants some security--you know?" "So?" "So she's waiting to see what Johnnie has to offer besides his looks." "All I've ever seen of him is in the papers. Does he look like his pictures?" The blonde smiled dreamily. "Better. Much better. But, hey, I got to get moving. Nice talking to you." Before she could leave, Leo ran his forefinger down her bare arm. "If I offered you something, what would you say?" She shrugged. "Depends on what it is, don't it?" "Maybe you can drop by the table later." "Maybe." She gave him one last sultry look before she turned away to begin edging between tables with her tray full of tobacco. "Cigars," she called. "Cigarettes." He'd lengthened the flirtation solely to cover his interest in Dillinger. Not that he wouldn't like to know the the blonde better but he knew damn well he didn't have the kind of money she expected. Or, if he really was getting closer to Quince, the time. A pall of smoke hung over the room, stinging Leo's eyes as he tried to keep an eye on Kelly Green without being obvious. The sound of many people talking and laughing ran together in his ears, blending into muted, shrill gibberish. Even after all this time on the road, much of it in cities, crowds made him uneasy. As they always had Quince. Which made the Coliseum an unlikely place to find his brother. Yet Leo suspected Dillinger's gang stuck together even when they weren't on a job. He'd hang around here until his money ran out, hoping he was right. He continued to watch Kelly as best he could, sipping each beer slower than the last. He was down to his last buck when he noticed her swing around abruptly to face the club entrance. He followed her gaze. Four men were being led to a table by the maitre d'. Leo held his breath. The first was John Dillinger, no doubt about it. He scanned the other three and then expelled the

pent-up air in a long sigh as he felt a familiar awareness settle into him. At last! Quince's head came up and Leo knew his brother had sensed the same bonding. Leo rose and stepped in front of the column. Quince stopped dead, staring across the room at him. Dillinger glanced back at Quince and halted, too, his gaze zeroing in on Leo. Leo could almost feel the man's surprise when Dillinger realized he was seeing a second Quince. Slowly, cautiously, Leo began to walk toward them, aware they all must be packing guns. He hadn't spent six years searching only to get shot down at his brother's feet. Quince looked away from him to say something to Dillinger. The words were evidently reassuring because Dillinger and the other two men went on to their table. Quince didn't move, didn't smile, only waited. "I came alone," Leo said as soon as he was close enough for Quince to hear. Quince nodded curtly. "I sure as hell didn't send for you." He jerked his head toward the entrance. "We'll talk out there." The night air, damp and chilly as it was, felt good to Leo after the fug inside. He followed his brother until they walked side by side along the curving drive in front of the club. "How'd you find me?" Quince demanded. "Took me seven years. Been in Chicago six months. Saw the picture in the Sun today. Heard Dillinger had been seen at the Coliseum." His attempt to match his brother's studied terseness collapsed. "God, Quince, I missed you so damn much!" A muscle jumped in Quince's jaw. "I'm getting along fine without you." "Sorry I can't say the same." Leo spoke defiantly. Whatever he'd expected from their reunion, it hadn't been for Quince to reject him. "As far as I'm concerned, it's hell without you." Quince halted, his expression grim. "So what do you think now you've found me?" He spread his arms and Leo saw the bulge of the holstered gun under his suit coat. "Still want to embrace your gangster brother?" Leo flung his arms around Quince and hugged him. After a long moment he felt the stiffness leave Quince and his brother's arms wrap around him. "Jesus, Leo, you always were a damn fool," Quince muttered. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

"Take me into the gang, what else?" Leo kept his voice confident as he released Quince and stepped back. "If Dillinger finds one Volek useful, why not two?" He had no urge to break the law but if becoming a criminal was the way to stay with his brother then he damn well would. "The name is Voss, not Volek," Quince said. "See that you remember it." Leo drove the black sedan along a narrow country road where pine saplings crowded close to either side. "You're sure this is the right way?" he asked Quince. Quince nodded. "I've been up this way before. Johnnie likes the north country. Quiet, if you know what I mean." The two girls in the back seat giggled. One was Cosette, the blonde from the Coliseum, and the other was her friend Gloria, Leo's date. Quince, as usual, had attracted the prettiest girl. Cosette had been going with him for over a month now. Behind them another car bumped along the potholed road-two other gang members with their girl friends. Dillinger's roadster was somewhere behind the second car. By now Leo knew Dillinger rarely worried about appearing in public places and being recognized. "I look like a hundred other guys," Dillinger had told him. "No one's called the cops on me yet." In Leo's eyes, Dillinger was distinctive enough to stand out in any crowd--if not for his looks, then because of his jaunty go-to-hell style and his unique shuffling walk. Leo nodded in relief when a large wooden sign announced: Little Bohemia Lodge. An arrow pointed to the left and he swung the car under an arched gateway of cement and rocks, slowing to negotiate a winding dirt lane that was little more than two ruts between the pines. Patches of snow under the trees showed that even this late in April winter hung on in the north country. After he'd driven some five hundred yards, the pines thinned and Leo saw a rambling two-story building of logs and clapboard with various small outbuildings to either side. Two cars and a truck were parked in front of the lodge. "Back in," Quince advised and Leo nodded. He realized the value of a quick getaway. He eased the sedan in next to the truck. Moments later the second car pulled in beside them and the others piled out. "Just take a breath of that fresh air," one of the girls

cried. "I ain't smelled air like that since I left Duluth." "They must cook a lot of onions in Duluth," Cosette put in, "'cause that's what I smell." "Whatever it is smells good to me," Quince said. "I'm hungry. I hope this Bohemian cook is good." Leo trailed behind the others, ducking around the corner of the building to assess possible escape routes. He'd acquired the habit after he'd become the getaway car driver for Dillinger, making the safety of the entire gang dependent on him. But feeling responsible for Quince had something to do with it, too. Never mind that Quince insisted he'd finally managed to master his shifting except occasionally when the moon was full. Those times he went off by himself ahead of time and locked himself into a basement he'd rented. Quince had gotten along for seven years on his own but that didn't stop Leo from being concerned about him. Dillinger and his gang might not have silver bullets but if Quince ever shifted in front of them so much lead would go flying that even the beast's special healing powers might not save Quince. But what the hell, he was probably worrying about the day he never saw, like Quince was always accusing him of doing. Who was going to find them in the woods of northern Wisconsin? They'd driven four hundred miles up to the sticks to have a good time--he ought to relax and enjoy himself with the others. His share of the last bank job left him with money to burn and, though Gloria might not be the girl of his dreams, she sure wasn't hard to look at. Two mixed breed collies chained to a metal post growled at him as he passed. Since their chains were too short to reach him he paid them little attention except to note that the dogs hadn't barked at him. They evidently were used to cars and people coming and going. Why were the dogs here? Were they let loose to guard the inn after everyone went to bed? He hoped so--the dogs would give fair warning. Take it easy, he warned himself. You're not on a job, you're here to have fun. Down a few beers, play a little poker, give Gloria a chance to strut her stuff for you. She may not be a knockout like Kelly Green or as pretty as Cosette but, unlike that skinny carrot-top back at Volek House, you can bet Gloria knows what to do when a man kisses her. Leo half-smiled, recalling the stunned expression on Jael Steinmetz's face after he'd kissed her. He'd thought later he might well have been the first man who'd ever kissed her. Probably the last as well. The Steinmetz woman was one

perfect example of an old maid. Odd how she stuck in his mind because she certainly wasn't his type. He wondered if she was still at Volek House. Probably not. He noted with approval the steep bank running down to a small lake. Little Star Lake, the map had called it. Slide down that bank and you'd be hidden from sight while you ran along the shore. A perfect escape route. Once inside the inn, Leo discovered the food was served family style, around a long table. They shared the meal with local people who knew good cooking when they tasted it. Leo couldn't recall exactly where in Europe Bohemia, was or had been, but he agreed with Quince that Bohemian food, as prepared by Mrs. Wanatka, was worth the long drive from Chicago. After they finished eating, Dillinger, who hadn't brought a girl with him--Kelly couldn't come and his longtime sweetheart, Billie Frechette, was in jail--wandered into the bar with a couple of the gang to play poker. Quince and Cosette went upstairs to their room and Leo and Gloria followed. Their room was in a dormer where the slant of the roof let Leo stand straight only in the exact middle of the room. Before he discovered this he bumped his head twice on rafters, giving Gloria the giggles. "If you think that's funny," he remarked, playfully wrestling her onto the bed. "I'll show you something that'll really make you laugh." Pinning her beneath him, he began tickling her ribs until she shrieked with laughter. Her squirming to free herself aroused him, making him forget the tickling as he turned her onto her side, one hand reaching for the lengthy zipper at the back of her dress. He pulled it down. "Careful," she warned, "or you'll wrinkle my dress. Better let me take it off." As long as the dress came off he didn't care how. But when Gloria insisted on removing the rest of her clothes herself, carefully folding each garment neatly before she returned to the bed, Leo began to wish she could be a bit more spontaneous. Even her damn high-heeled shoes had to be set precisely side by side. By the time she was finished undressing he'd stripped and was sitting on the edge of the bed, impatiently waiting. "It's cold, I want to get under the covers," she insisted, climbing in and pulling the sheet and blanket up to her neck. What next? he wondered. Would he be expected to keep

his eyes closed so he couldn't see any part of her while they screwed? "I don't do it without a rubber," she told him when he reached for her. "Put the rubber on now so you won't forget." Having little choice, Leo complied. He knew perfectly well she watched him not for kicks but only to be sure he got the damn thing on right. He was still hot for her but she was getting close to discouraging him before he got started. He hoped to hell she'd be more enthusiastic once they got down to the business at hand. Afterwards he had to admit while she looked good enough on the outside and felt good enough on the inside, all in all it was one of the most unsatisfactory fucks he'd ever had. Screwing old maid Steinmetz couldn't be much worse. Hell, it might even be an improvement. At least Steinmetz didn't know enough to keep telling him what he could and couldn't do. Gloria stayed in bed while he dressed and buckled on his holster. "I'm going to find out what the guys are doing," he told her. "See you later," she said. As he closed the door, he thought he just might decide to stay up the whole damn night. He was still at the poker table when the dogs started barking near midnight. Leo dashed out to take a look but found nothing alarming. "Them mutts always bark their fool heads off at night," Emil Wanatka, the proprietor, told him when he came back in. "Got a big deer herd around here, guess it spooks them." When they all were eating breakfast the next morning, Emil, genial enough the night before, jittered around until he finally blurted out, "You're John Dillinger." Dillinger grinned. "Does that scare you?" "This place is all I got. If it gets shot up I ain't got nothing, that's what scares me." Dillinger patted his arm. "Look, Emil, I'm a tired man. What we want is a few days to rest up and eat your wife's good cooking. I'll pay you well. And don't worry, if we do any shooting it'll be target practice in the woods." Emil gave in. What else could he do? Leo wondered. But after that, one of them kept an eye on Emil. The day was overcast and chilly. After some persuasion, Gloria agreed to bundle up for a stroll in the woods. As they left the lodge, she and Leo waved goodbye to one of the gang, Reilly and the girl he was taking into Rhinelander to see a doctor for her stomach pain.

"I wouldn't've minded going into town," Gloria said. "This dump isn't my idea of a good time." She eyed the mounds of snow and grimaced. "Christ, April 21 and it's still winter up here." By supper it was snowing, a brief flurry that melted as soon as it fell. The women got dressed up and insisted on dancing, so the floor was cleared, Emil wound up the phonograph and put on a record of "Hello Ma Baby." The few local men who'd wandered in for dinner and stayed on gaped as the gang members, holstered guns in place under their suit coats, whirled around the room with their fancily dressed girls. One by one the men deserted the dance floor to sit in on the poker game in the bar, leaving the women to dance with each other. When Leo finally came up to the room near midnight, Gloria was so annoyed at him that trying to get anywhere with her was like making love to an icicle. After a while he gave up in disgust and was almost asleep when the dogs started barking. Again Leo went outside. Again he saw and heard nothing unusual. The next morning Dillinger announced they were leaving as soon as Reilly and the girl got back. When they hadn't arrived by five, Mrs. Wanatka prepared steak smothered in onions for them and afterward the men began playing poker with Emil and several locals. Leo wandered past them to open the door and look up at the dark evening sky. He checked his watch and saw it was getting on for seven and damn cold. After seven years away from California, the abrupt changes of weather in the midwest no longer amazed him but he'd expected April to be a bit warmer, even in northern Wisconsin. He sensed Quince behind him before his brother spoke. "Like to take a walk?" "Why not?" Not wanting to set the dogs barking, Leo steered Quince toward the other side of the building. Without speaking they pushed through underbrush until they'd penetrated deep within the woods. "The pines are taller in our valley," Leo said at last. "This is all second growth. Lumbering was big business up here ten years ago--they cut all the white pine to make matches." "Matches!" Quince laughed. "How come you still believe everything I say? They did cut a hell of a lot of the pines for

matches, though. A damn shame. Now they've got CCC boys planting seedlings on the cut-over land. But it takes a long time for a tree to grow. I've been thinking a lot about Wolf since you told me he was dead. I always believed he was right about saving the forests and the mountains, about keeping the wilderness wild. I hate cities." "Yet you live in one." Quince laid a hand on Leo's shoulder, ran his fingers up to his brother's neck, then along the leather thong until he'd pulled the metal disk from under Leo's shirt. "I discovered a few years back I'm safer in a city. From shifting, I mean. The urge isn't as strong. While here, even in this piddling woods, even with the moon barely a quarter full, I can feel the pull to change, to run--" He broke off, releasing the amulet. "Better get back, Johnnie likes us to keep close together." Leo tucked the amulet underneath his clothes again as they hiked back to the inn. They found Dillinger had joined the game and he motioned the two of them to pull up chairs and be dealt in. The host brought glasses and another bottle of whiskey. Leo shook his head and asked for a beer. Quince, he noticed, poured a shot of whiskey but didn't drink it. Ashtrays littered with cigarette butts dotted the table. Quince lit a Camel, then let it smolder in a tray instead of smoking it. Leo smiled to himself. Quince, too, had learned to fit in. Because the locals didn't bet big it was a penny ante game but apparently Dillinger was enjoying himself anyway, laughing more than he had since Billie Frechette was clapped in jail early this month. "Johnnie always has a eye for the ladies," Quince had told him. "Kelly Green isn't the first he noticed and she won't be the last. But Billie is the only one he really cares about." Leo had met Billie, a real looker, and he knew Quince was right about Dillinger's feelings for her--he hadn't been himself since the cops got Billie. The dogs began to bark. Used to their clamor by now, no one in the bar paid the slightest attention. Except for Leo. It was only eight--the dogs had never cut loose so early before. Uneasiness settled over him as thick and heavy as the pall of tobacco smoke above the table. He eyed their host, who'd left the room and had just come back in. Did Emil look nervous or was he imagining it? They'd watched Emil to make sure he didn't call the cops but

had he sneaked out a message some other way? Leo tried to get Quince's attention but his brother, already a big winner, was raking in another pot. Quince was always lucky at cards. No women were in sight, not even Mrs. Wanatka. The girls were probably in one of the bedrooms, gossiping and doing their nails. Most likely he was getting himself all worked up about nothing. Emil wouldn't want the cops here, he didn't want his place shot to hell. And if the cops weren't coming, what could possibly happen in this remote spot? But he couldn't relax. Eventually Quince glanced at him, frowning, apparently sensing the ripple of worry running through Leo. "It's pretty damn early for those dogs to start barking," Leo said, glancing at Emil. "Them mutts," Emil muttered, as he had before, but this time Leo detected a tremor in his voice. Leo stood up and gripped Quince's shoulder. Quince said, "I fold," laid down his cards and rose, his eyes boring into Leo's. After a moment he looked at Dillinger who immediately got to his feet. "Game's over," Dillinger said to the other two gang members. He started for the stairs with Leo and Quince at his heels. By the time they reached the second floor, the dogs had worked themselves into a frenzy of barking. Each man ran for his room. Leo burst into the dormer room and promptly banged his head so hard against a rafter that he staggered. Gloria wasn't in there so Leo hurried out again, calling Quince's name. "In here," Quince shouted from the end of the hall. To get to Quince's room, Leo had go through an open door and climb four steps. At the top he plunged into a bedroom and found his brother shaking Cosette, who lay sprawled across the bedcovers, out cold. As he hurried to Quince's side, glass crunched under his foot. He looked down, saw he'd stepped on a syringe and kicked the debris toward his brother. Quince glanced at the floor and shook his head. "Stupid little doper. She swore she was off the stuff. Help me with her." As Leo bent to lift Cosette's feet, a gun roared. Both men straightened, looked at one another and rushed toward the stairs, leaving Cosette on the bed. Before they got there, the door at the bottom slammed shut and they heard a key turn in the lock.

Leo tried the door but, as he expected, it didn't open. Quince half-pulled his gun, then shoved it back into the holster. "Can't risk shooting off the damn lock--what if I hit one of us in the hall?" A fusillade of gunshots made Leo grab Quince's arm. "Can we climb down from your windows?" he asked. As they raced back up the four steps the lights went out. Quince shoved open one of the two side-by-side windows. "We know you're in there, Dillinger," a man called from below, his voice magnified by a bullhorn. "We've got the place surrounded. Come out with your hands up!" Fat chance they'd live if they did, Leo thought, considering all the ammunition those bullet-happy cops already had gone through. They were well and truly trapped. Quince turned away and went to the bed. "What're you doing?" Leo asked. "Wrapping Cosette in the spread before I lay her on the top step and lock this bedroom door from the inside." Leo was puzzled. "Do you think she'll be safer from cop bullets there?" "Who knows?" Quince said so hoarsely his words blurred. "But she'll be a damn sight safer from me, brother mine. Safer from us." Leo, absently scratching his violently itching left arm, felt bile rise in his throat as he realized what Quince already knew. If they had any chance to leave the inn alive there was only one possible way. His hand rose to the amulet.

Chapter 8 After carrying Cosette's limp body to the stairs and closing the door, Quince growled an almost unintelligible request: "Lock the door." Dread rose in Leo. If Quince couldn't turn the key, his hands must have already changed to talons. An ear-shattering volley came from below. Hurriedly Leo locked the door, removing the key and shoving it under the

gap between door and sill. After a moment's thought he pulled off his amulet and forced it, thong and all, under the door, too, beyond his reach. Either he shifted or Quince would leave him behind. Quince had no choice. Unshifted, neither of them could hope to survive when they leaped from the window. He'd shapechanged but once in his life, years ago, and he sure as hell didn't know how he'd done it then. "Maybe I've forgotten how," Leo muttered as much to himself as to Quince. His brother, tearing off his clothes, paid no attention. Leo nodded. First order of business. Beasts didn't wear clothes. He removed his jacket, hung it over the back of a chair and unbuttoned his shirt. When he found himself carefully placing the shirt over the jacket on the chair, he grimaced. Hell, he was behaving like Gloria, delaying the inevitable by neatly arranging his things. He smiled grimly as he yanked off the rest of his clothes and flung them on the floor. The comparison was valid--he was no more eager to shapeshift than she'd been to fuck. He stood naked and afraid, all but deafened by the chatter of tommyguns and the roar of revolvers. Glass shattered as bullets smashed through the windows of the inn. Somewhere a woman screamed, the sound faint and far away. Suddenly a full-throated howl rose above the clamor, making his heart hammer and triggering an unbearable burning in the bite on his arm. He yelped in pain as fire shot through him, flaming away all that made him human, doubling him over as the change began. Free! The thought, not his, ripped through his skull. We’re free, brother. Run with me. Run? Yes, run through the night, run from the stink of gunpowder, run from the noise that hurt his ears. Run with his brother, free at last. He lifted his muzzle and howled in answer. The beast leaped through the open window, following his brother. He landed on all fours and flung himself at a man aiming a gun at him. Bullets stung his chest before his jaws closed on the man's throat. With the taste of blood hot on his tongue, he raced toward the shelter of the trees, still following the dark beast who was his brother. By the time they lapped water from a forest lake, his wounds were closing over. Even as he drank, a bullet splashed into the water, expelled from his healing body. His

brother looked at him, tawny eyes shining in the thin light of the quarter moon. Tonight we own the woods. I’ve waited long to hunt with you, brother. The blood was gone from his mouth, washed away by the cool water, but he remembered the taste and was eager for more. Hunt, yes. Hunt and kill. And feast. With his brother, the one he loved beyond all others. Leo woke, shivering, when the sun's rays slanted into the rocky den where he lay. He sat up in confusion. Where was he? And why the hell was he buck naked? He stared at his bloodstained hands and chest in consternation. A growl froze him before he could get to his feet and he swung around to face the rear of the shallow cave. A huge brown beast, muzzle drawn back over long white fangs, snarled at him. Not a wolf, not a bear, not a cougar, it was the most fearsome animal he'd ever seen. For one long terror-stricken moment Leo gazed at the monster and then his mind clicked on. "Quince!" he cried. With one last snarl, the beast padded past him to the mouth of the den. Leo rose cautiously. Though he was sure Quince wouldn't harm him, it wouldn't be smart to startle the beast. Memories flooded his mind--the inn called Little Bohemia, he and Quince trapped in the bedroom, his fear he wouldn't be able to shift... It was all too evident he had shifted. Yet he had no memory of what he'd done while a beast. The metallic taste in his mouth suggested he'd eaten and the blood on his hands told him he'd eaten raw meat. What kind of meat? Leo swallowed uneasily, trying not to gag. At the cave entrance, the beast looked back at him, then trotted away. Asking me to follow, Leo told himself as he ran after his brother, avoiding the mounds of snow still lingering in the woods. Spring came late in the north. To his left a flock of crows rose into the air, cawing in complaint, and he saw the birds had been feasting on the remains of a deer carcass. Leo sighed in relief. The beasts' prey had been animal, not human, thank God. His brother led him through a hardwood forest, tall trees, some with massive trunks, the branches just beginning to leaf out. Old trees, whose dense shade prevented undergrowth from flourishing. Evidently the Wisconsin loggers were selective and only wanted pine. Or were they still in northern Wisconsin? He had no idea how far they might have traveled during the night.

At the edge of a small lake, the beast paused to drink, allowing the panting Leo to catch up to him. Leo splashed into the water some distance away from his brother, shivering as he scrubbed the blood from his face and body before he drank. Without giving him a chance to rest, the beast trotted on. Groaning, Leo followed. By now his bare feet were cut and bruised, making walking, never mind running, painful. Yet he didn't dare lose sight of the beast. Leo was about ready to drop when his brother halted again. Through the trees he caught a glimpse of a log cabin. Deciding he'd been led here deliberately, he stumbled past his brother and made for the cabin. When banging on the door brought no response, he tried to open it. The door was locked. He finally broke a window to get inside while the beast waited in the trees. To his disappointment Leo found no clothes, only two ragged blankets and an old pair of boot pacs. Using a rusty knife he found rammed into a battered plank table, he fashioned a crude shirt from one blanket and wrapped the other around his waist, trimming it so the wool didn't go past his knees. He slid his feet into the pacs and used strips of the blanket to tie them on. Last of all he tied the knife around his waist. The delay had rested him and the pacs protected his feet enough so he was able to go on following his brother. The beast seemed to have some goal--or at least Leo hoped so. He didn't like to think they were wandering around aimlessly in these northern woods. Wherever they were going, he was sure the beast was too smart to lead them back to Little Bohemia. He wondered what had happened to Dillinger and the girls? Dead? Captured? He hoped not. But most of all he worried that Quince would never become human again. And that he, himself, wouldn't stay human. The sun was sliding down the sky when his brother found another den in the rocks and curled up to sleep. The exhausted Leo stretched out on the hard floor as far away from the beast as he could manage and was asleep before he had time to wonder what might happen when night came and the moon rose. The itching bite on his arm woke Leo. The cave was in darkness. He saw the lower half of the beast silhouetted against the night sky in the opening of the den. Part of him rejoiced that he was still himself but the rest yearned to be able to follow Quince into the night unhampered by human limitations. When the beast's howl rose

challengingly on the night air, Leo felt the now-familiar wrench inside him. He stiffened. No! Danger no longer threatened, he could safely remain a man. If he really wanted to. Couldn't he? The beast howled again, its eerie cry sinking into the marrow of Leo's bones, pulsating along his nerves, echoing in his mind until all rational thought faded. The beast within him responded eagerly, flinging off the stinking blankets and scrambling through the opening to join his brother under the meager but welcoming light of the moon. Free! And yet a shadow darkened his joy as he loped to hunt with his brother, preventing him from experiencing the full thrill of the chase and the complete ecstasy of the kill. He lapped the hot blood and tore into the meat with his powerful jaws but the shadow hovered, tempering his enjoyment as he fed. He rested with his brother and followed him again when it was time to run through the night, run on and on. No shadow could cloud his wonder and awe at the power that pumped through him with every heartbeat, a power than defied exhaustion. Who or what could stand against such power? The world was truly theirs, his and his brother's. Theirs for the taking. In the morning Leo woke naked and cold and knew he'd shifted again. He lay under a rocky overhang and the beast stood over him, its feral yellow eyes glaring into his. Apparently satisfied he was awake, it turned and loped off. Leo jumped to his feet and ran after his brother. By noon he was dressed in heavy woolen socks, a pair of still damp overalls and a shirt he'd found hanging on a line near the house his brother had led him to. Leo wasn't bothered by the theft--hell, this was a mere trifle compared to the bank robberies with Dillinger. What did upset him was that he'd been seen by a woman standing on her back porch. Worse, she'd caught a glimpse of the beast, a glimpse that sent her screaming into the depths of her house. He hoped no one would believe her description of what she'd seen. They might not because the beast was unbelievable. Leo tried to avoid thinking of himself in his shifted state, beast brother to Quince, tried to block the knowledge of where the blood he'd washed from his face, hands and chest again this morning had come from.

He was human, damn it! But then, so was Quince. Leo stared at the dark fur on his brother's back and shook his head. Why didn't Quince change back? Had he forgotten how? The amulet might have been of help but he'd been forced to leave it behind. Leo wondered if Cosette had survived the gun battle at the inn. If she had, would she find the amulet and keep it? The woods seemed endless. Sometimes the tall maples, elms and oaks gave way to stands of cedars and spruce and sometimes the beast pushed through second-growth pine where saplings jostled for sunlight with the underbrush. Snow lay scattered everywhere the sun didn't reach. In the afternoon the beast found a den and they both slept. His brother's howling roused Leo at dark and once again he shifted and ran with his twin. When Leo woke the next morning, he found himself not in an animal's den but in what he finally decided was an old, unused mine adit. He stepped out of the chill darkness into the sunshine, looked around for the beast, and stopped short. He stood near the edge of a cliff. Below him blue water stretched as far as he could see. Where the hell was he? This had to be one of the Great Lakes. Lake Michigan? No, they'd been travelling northeast since they left Little Bohemia. Lake Superior, then, the biggest of them all. Since the lake lay to the north of them, they hadn't reached Canada; they must be in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The April sun failed to warm him. He needed clothes. And where the hell was the beast? Leo washed the blood from his body in a creek, wincing at the cold water, then began a search for his brother by walking in widening semicircles, coming back each time to the adit in case the beast had returned there. He found no trace of his twin. Facing the lake and closing his eyes, Leo turned slowly, reaching with his mind. To the north, nothing. Northeast, nothing. East-- Leo's eyes flew open in surprise at what he felt. Not the beast--he sensed Quince. His brother was human once more. But where was he? What had happened to prevent him from returning? Deciding the best way for a barefoot man to hike east was on a sandy beach, Leo worked his way down to Lake Superior. He paused briefly to soak his bleeding feet in the lake's icy water, numbing them, then trudged east along the shoreline, wading or swimming across the mouths of creeks and rivers. From what he'd seen along Lake Michigan's shore near

Chicago, he expected to find summer cottages but he was disappointed. He saw nothing but shorebirds skittering along the sand, an occasional heron in a creek and seagulls crying overhead. No people and no signs of people. He skirted huge logs washed up on the shore, passed the wooden skeleton of a wrecked boat on a sand bar. He noted the thin line of dark clouds along the horizon with a wary eye. Oldtimers in Chicago vied with one another to tell tales of sudden lake storms that had capsized boats and drowned their crews. He wasn't worried about drowning but if a storm swept over the lake he'd need shelter. As it was, even with the sun shining and the fast pace of walking, he could barely keep warm. All the time he drew closer to Quince but, for some reason he didn't understand, his brother didn't seem aware of him. It was past midday--by now the clouds had blotted out the sun--when he picked up the scent of smoke mixed with another odor. Was it fish? Leo trotted toward the smoke smell, his sense of Quince sharp and distinct. He came to a creek and, so intent was he on pinpointing the sensation that he failed to notice the Indian woman hunched down on the opposite bank of the stream. He was about to plunge into the water and cross to the other side when she rose. Startled, he stopped and stared at her. She wore a long blue dress and her dark hair was in braids, reminding him of Miwok women he'd met back home in California except that she was prettier. He was about to speak to her when he remembered he was naked and made a hasty half turn. Though she gazed at him intently, she seemed less bothered by his nudity than he was. "I'm looking for--" he began and paused for she'd spoken, too. "Your brother calls for you," she said, speaking English with an accent. Forgetting his embarrassment, Leo splashed across the stream, asking, "Where is he?" The odor of fish grew stronger as they approached wooden shacks and canvas-wrapped lodges huddled where the sand met the trees. Thick smoke rose from a hole in the top of the two wooden huts but the woman led him past them to one of the lodges and bent to enter the open flap. Leo followed her. An Indian fire, small and warm, burned in the lodge's center. When he saw Quince laying unmoving on a mat beside the fire, Leo flung himself to his knees beside him. "I'm here," he told his brother, grasping one of his hands.

Quince's eyes fluttered open, closing again almost immediately but his hand gripped Leo's. "We found him in a bear trap," a man said from the other side of the fire. "Naked, as you are." Leo shuddered inwardly, imagining the beast stepping into one of the large cruel-jawed steel traps. He could almost hear the trap clang shut, feel its teeth biting through flesh and muscle to the bone, holding fast. And shocking the beast into shifting. Peering at Quince in the dimness of the lodge, he saw the open wound where the trap had caught his brother's left leg. "Already it heals." The man's voice, as accented as the woman's, was deep and somber, reminding Leo of old Bear Claw and the time he and his twin had lain by a fire in a Miwok lodge. He still recalled the strange sensation when Bear Claw, the Miwok shaman, drew energy from one twin, him, to heal the other, Quince. "You're a healer, a medicine man." The words were out before Leo realized he'd said them. The man, tall and heavy, walked slowly around until he stood over Leo, who was still crouched beside Quince. "Your brother called me Bear Claw," the man said. "Bear Claw was a Miwok medicine man," Leo told him. "The trap splintered the bones in his leg. Your brother lost much blood before we found him. Most men would die. He did not. And now, weak as he is, before my eyes his bones knit together, healing. This tells me he can't be a man." The Indian gazed from Quince to Leo. "You, like him, come to our fish camp naked. You two, brother bearwalkers." Leo had never heard the word but its meaning was clear enough. Someone who could walk as a man or as a bear. The Indian had come close to the truth and Leo knew better than to lie to a medicine man. He sat back on his heels and tried to order his thoughts. "My grandfather was a shaman, like you," he said slowly. "His grandfather was also a shaman. Shamans are powerful and do much good for their people. My brother and I are not so fortunate. We aren't blessed, we're cursed. Our power comes to us whether we want it or not." After a time the old Indian sighed as though accepting something he'd rather not. "I am Wind Cloud." He said no more but he didn't have to. Leo relaxed a little, aware he and his brother had been accepted, bearwalkers or not. If they hadn't been, Wind Cloud wouldn't have told them his name.

When Leo gave the shaman their names, the old man squatted beside him. "Is it for good or for evil you have come to us?" A gust of wind blew smoke back down the smoke hole and rain began to patter on the canvas, heralding the storm. Leo held his brother's hand, grateful Quince lived, glad they weren't out in the storm. "Not for evil," he told Wind Cloud, praying he wasn't wrong. "You saved my brother's life, I'm in your debt." "Only men with bad hearts don't offer help when needed, even to a bearwalker. Though we know bearwalkers seldom bring good to the People." "Will you tell me the People's name in your tongue?" Leo asked, deciding there'd been enough talk of bearwalkers. "Anishinabe. The government calls us Chippewa." Leo nodded, recalling that Billie Green was part Chippewa. "Some of my blood comes from a California band of the People--the Miwok," he said. And some, through Wolf, from the Asian Kamchadals but that was too complicated to explain. A woman slipped into the lodge, closing the flap after her against the downpour. Leo recognized her as the one who'd brought him to the fish camp. Without looking at him, she took off the blanket covering her head and shoulders and hung it on a wooden rack. She laid clothes on a mat and hurried to the opposite side of the fire where she busied herself with a kettle. "My granddaughter brings clothes for you," the old man said. "Thank you." Leo eased his hand from Quince's and rose. Somewhat unnerved by dressing in front of the woman, he turned his back to the fire as he pulled on a pair of denim pants and a faded blue cotton shirt. He gratefully slipped his battered feet into a beautifully beaded pair of deerskin moccasins, vowing that somehow he'd find a way to repay the kindness. Wind Cloud, knowing what he and Quince were and fearing they'd bring trouble to his people, still offered them the hospitality of his lodge. Such generosity of spirit was new to Leo. "You're a great-hearted man," he told Wind Cloud. "I may live to regret it." No, Leo promised himself. As soon as Quince was well enough to travel they'd leave, leave before his brother shifted again. I don't ever want to be forced to shift again, Leo told

himself, and, God forbid, especially not in the midst of those who've helped us. "The hell I'm leaving," Quince said a week later as they sat propped against a driftwood log, idly tossing stones into the lake as they soaked up sunlight. Though he limped slightly, Quince walked easily. "We're staying here for the time being," he added. "I don't want the cops breathing down my neck and what better hiding place is there than the back of nowhere?" Leo couldn't argue because the Chippewa reservation on Michigan's Keewenaw Peninsula was isolated. He knew from reading the Houghton Mining Gazette that Dillinger and the others had gotten away from Little Bohemia, though the cops had killed one and wounded two of the locals in their barrage of bullets. The Gazette had quoted Will Rogers: "Well, they had Dillinger surrounded and was all ready to shoot him when he came out, but another bunch of folks came out ahead, so they just shot them instead, Dillinger is going to accidentally get with some innocent bystanders some time, then he will get shot." It was certainly true that John Dillinger was a lucky man. "Chicago's too hot for us right now," Quince went on "and think about it, brother mine, where else do we have to go?" Nowhere. But that didn't mean they should stay here. "If you shift, I do," Leo said bluntly. "What's going to happen to Wind Cloud and Rose then?" Quince raised an eyebrow. "Don't you know the old man can hardly wait to see us shift? Why do you think he's kept us around? Like any shaman, he wants the chance to tap our power if he can." Leo knew there was some truth in what his brother said. "If we stay you'll kill him," he protested. "Me?" Quince's other eyebrow shot up. "Don't you mean us?" Leo grimaced. "I don't want to shift any more." "Why? Afraid the big bad beast will scare your sweet little wild Rose?" Leo glared at his brother, his fists clenching. "If you harm her in any way I swear I'll--" Quince held up a hand. "All right, all right. I promise not to shift until we leave the reservation." He grinned at Leo. "Don't look so skeptical. I told you I can

control myself." "So you said. Except when the moon is full." Quince shrugged. "That's not for a week or so. If you've any Volek blood in you, you'll be under Rose's blanket before then and once you've had her a dozen times or so the novelty'll wear off. It always does. You know that as well as I do." Leo opened his mouth to claim that Rose was different but shut it without speaking, uncomfortably aware there was more truth in Quince's words than he wanted to hear. He picked up a flat stone and tossed it so that the stone skipped along the surface of the water. "Eight jumps," Quince said. "I'm still ahead by one." Leo turned to look at him. "Ever since we were born you've been ahead. You set the pace and I followed. I stopped minding a long time ago, but you'd better listen to me on this one. On our journey here, every morning I was human again. You weren't. I'm pretty well convinced if the beast hadn't stepped into that bear trap you never would have shifted to human again. I don't only worry about what might happen to Wind Cloud and Rose the next time you shift, I worry about you. What if the beast never changes back to Quince?" Quince grinned at him. "At least the woods is the proper place for a beast, right?" "We may be surrounded by wilderness but no woods in the United States is isolated enough so that sooner or later hunters wouldn't be gunning for you. Or worse--a stalker with silver bullets." "Brother mine, why must you worry about the day you never saw? If I stay a beast, I'll survive. After all, you'll be around to see that I do, won't you? By the way, whatever happened to your amulet?" "I left it at Little Bohemia. With Cosette." Quince snorted. "Hell of a lot of good it'll do her. Never could understand why people try to blunt the edge of life with drugs or booze. If only they knew what it was to run free under the moon." "I never can remember how it was." "I can't bring back everything but I know." Quince gazed at the lake, his eyes bright and feral. "Oh, yes, how well I know." He turned to look at Leo. "I'd rather die than never shift again." A dark premonition caught Leo in a sticky web of dread. Terror skittered across his mind like a spider, leaving tracks that writhed and twisted into words, warping what his

brother had said into a prophecy of doom: When you shift again, you’ll die.

Chapter 9 In the darkness of the fish camp lodge, Leo cupped his hand around Rose's breast. He heard her draw a moaning breath and smiled. Rose was nothing like Gloria, she enjoyed making love with him and wasn't ashamed to show her pleasure. Her body, firm and rounded, pressed against him

urgently, demanding what he was all too willing to give her. "You feel good," she whispered. "So good." He wasted no time on words, easing into her, groaning when he felt her close around him. She was right--it was damn good. Afterwards she rested her head on his chest. "The women in the village can't tell you and your brother apart," she murmured drowsily. "I can." "How?" "He looks at the world through wolf eyes. You don't. I'd never let him make love to me." "I hope not," Leo said. "We share everything else but I don't want to share you." "Ugh. Who'd want to lie with an animal?" "He's not that bad, Rose." "I know what I see in his eyes." Though Leo knew Wind Cloud hadn't told Rose they were bearwalkers, what she said made him uneasy and he began to stroke her back, running his hand over her delightfully curved rump in a effort to distract her. "Grandfather feels it, too," Rose persisted. "He's making medicine against your brother." Leo sat up, disentangling himself from her. "What do you mean, making medicine?" Rose was silent, either from annoyance at his abrupt withdrawal or because she feared she'd said too much. After a moment she put her arms around his neck. "It has nothing to do with us tonight," she whispered in his ear. The fish camp, now deserted except for the two of them, was over a mile from the Chippewa village. He'd left Quince alone there in Wind Cloud's frame cabin, never giving a thought to where the old medicine man might be. Now he wondered where Wind Cloud had gone and what he might be doing. Shamans could be dangerous. He unwound Rose's arms, sprang up, and yanked on his pants. "Get dressed," he ordered. "We have to go back." "You go ahead." Her voice was sullen. Taking her at her word, he flung on his shirt, and shoved his feet into his moccasins. As he raised the lodge flap he held, listening to a faint drumming. How long had it been going on? "What's that?" he demanded. "Mide drums," she said. "Medicine drums." The steady monotonous beat seemed to reach inside him, to coax him to--to what? The hair rose on his nape as his

left arm began to itch. He turned back to Rose. "Get dressed," he snapped. "Hurry! We've got to stop your grandfather before it's too late." They'd almost reached the village when a long wavering howl rose above the drum beats. Ignoring Rose's stifled scream, Leo fought the wrench inside him, fought his overwhelming urge to respond to his brother's invitation to shift. If he gave in, not only Rose was doomed. He was. If he shifted once more he'd never be able to resist Quince again. Halting, he dropped to one knee and, with his forefinger, traced Iwaz in the damp sand. Over and over he followed the rune with his finger, intoning, "Iwaz. Sacred yew, protect me. Iwaz, protect me." "Bearwalker," Rose whispered fearfully. He paid no attention, searching his memory for the Finnish chant against shifting that Waino had taught him so long ago. "By the heart of my father," he began haltingly, "whose blood created me, by the breasts of my mother, whose milk nurtured me, by the Holy Three who know my soul, I belong to the human race. "I am a man. "I have traveled into the furthest reaches of myself and I know what lies hidden there, yet I have set myself to remain a man. Neither the moon nor another's demand can change my will or my body. "Wild spirit, your home is not within me. Return to the dark forest whence you came, return to the pines, to the alder thickets, to the cedar swamps, to the oak groves. Return, feral creature, to--" A dark shape burst from the trees, racing across the sand. Leo broke off abruptly, leaped up, grabbed the whimpering Rose and thrust her behind him. With his back to the water and Iwaz between his spread feet, he faced the beast. Moonlight glinted on white fangs and reflected from yellow eyes. Eyes so like his own. Yet not quite the same, as Rose had told him. His brother's eyes. His brother, who he loved above all, who he'd do anything in the world for. Except shift. The beast paused in front of him, snarling, then raised its muzzle to the moon and howled again. Run with me, brother mine. The night, the hunt is ours. As his will to resist insidiously drained away, Leo

struggled to keep the image of Iwaz in his mind. No, he told himself desperately, I will not run under the moon. Ever. Once more the beast howled, long and urgently, and again Leo struggled against his own increasing need to change. He slid his feet from the moccasins and stepped directly onto the rune he'd traced into the sand, feeling its power rise up through his body to war with the wrenching inside him. At last the beast turned away. Before it loped toward the trees, it gave Leo one last look over its shoulder, a look of questioning sadness. Why brother? With tears in his eyes, Leo watched until the beast vanished into the darkness under the trees, seeing a part of himself vanish, too. Finally he turned, lifted the shivering Rose from the sand and led her toward the village, noticing only then that the drums had ceased. It was long after midnight and the moon was low. A damp, cold breeze blew off the lake. Slipping between the trees, avoiding the patches of snow that still remained, Leo touched once more the amulet of birchbark and eagle feathers that Wind Cloud had made for him and listened to the night with his mind as well as his ears. Rose hadn't wanted him to leave the village. She'd clung to him, weeping, until her grandfather had ordered her away. "A darkness hunts your brother," Wind Cloud had told him, "a darkness no one can save him from, but I understand why you must try. You will survive only if you remain a man." He'd offered Leo the amulet then. At first Leo had assumed Wind Cloud meant it was Quince's beast self that threatened his brother, but as the night wore on unease crept over him. He sensed that something else searched for the beast with him, something dark and dangerous. He knew he was near his brother, he'd followed his trail by listening for the howls and by his unerring feel for Quince's presence, even as a beast. He carried no gun but Wind Cloud had pressed his own mide knife on Leo before he left the village. He'd learned that the Midewewin Society was made up of Chippewa shamans, some more advanced than others, a society of medicine men going back to the origins of the People, back to the time hundreds of years before when they'd lived beside the great salt sea to the east. The Miwoks had no such medicine society and as far as he knew neither did the

Kamchadals. Leo wished he'd learned more about his grandfather's people. What was their history? Had they always lived in Russian Kamchatka? He thought he heard a bird's wings overhead, thought he heard a harsh caw and tensed, listening, then shook his head. Crows didn't fly at night. Deep in his mind, a memory stirred. Kut rules the Kamchadals," Wolf had told him once across a night fire on a Sierra camping trip. Told him and Quince. "Kut, the raven spirit. A god and a trickster in one, never to be completely trusted." Leo scowled. Ravens didn't fly at night, either. He'd misread the sound he'd heard. Yet in his heart he feared he'd been warned. Again. He'd already had one warning from Wind Cloud. But of what? Not of his brother. The beast wouldn't harm him. What other danger lurked in the night? Words from years ago, words Marti had used, edged into his mind. The dark hunter came…… Apprehension stroked icy fingers down Leo's spine. The dark hunter Marti had sensed had been a stalker. That California stalker was three years dead. He and his brother were thousands of miles away, in the Michigan wilderness. But not safe, the Voleks were never safe from stalkers. The beast howled, the sound close and near the lake. Leo drew the mide knife from its sheath and, setting his direction by the soft swish of the waves, crept through the woods. There was no thinning of trees, merely a sudden transition from woods to sand. He stopped short of the beach, peered along the shore and froze. The beast crouched over a kill. Even twenty feet away Leo smelled the blood and the deer scent. Busy with his feasting, the beast didn't look up or give any indication he knew Leo was near. Bloodlust had clouded his usual caution. Leo scanned the surroundings, saw nothing moving and was about to ease the knife back into its sheath when suddenly, not more than ten feet from his brother, a shadow detached itself from behind the upthrust trunk and roots of a windfall. "Quince, look out!" Leo shouted and leaped forward, knife in hand. As he raced toward his brother, he heard the beast snarl followed by the ominous rattle of a tommygun. From his time with Dillinger, Leo well knew how deadly the spray of bullets could be. To escape certain death, he flung himself at the assailant in a low tackle. His shoulder caught the man

behind the knees and they both sprawled onto the sand. Leo raised up and plunged the knife into the man's left side, just under the armpit, feeling it grate on ribs as the blade slid in up to the hilt. The man gave a bubbling cough, convulsed once and lay still. Leo grabbed the gun, sprang up and, with his foot, rolled the man over onto his back. Sightless eyes stared up at the moon. All this time there'd been no sound from the beast. Hoping against hope he'd gotten away, Leo skirted the deer carcass. He saw no beast. Instead, Quince lay half-in, half-out of the water. Leo dragged his brother onto the sand and knelt beside him. Jagged holes, oozing blood, ran across Quince's bare chest. His eyes fluttered open but he didn't seem to see Leo. "I'm here," Leo told him as he gripped Quince's hand. Badly wounded as his brother was, if the bullets weren't silver he might have a chance. "Now you--" Quince's voice faded to a whisper and Leo leaned close to hear. "--you'll be first..." Men from the village dumped the stalker into a hastily dug pit in the woods. After Quince was buried near their small Indian graveyard, Wind Cloud and Leo sat for four cold May nights by his grave with a lantern. Leo, because he wasn't ready to part from his brother and the Chippewa because he believed even a bearwalker would need light during the four nights it took to travel along the Spirit Path among the stars. Leo couldn't blame the old medicine man's drumming for his brother's shifting. Sooner or later Quince would have given in to the urge to change and the beast would have found the stalker waiting. Or worse, maybe the stalker wouldn't have waited, would have come to the village with his tommygun. God knows how many might have died then. "You will no longer bearwalk," Wind Cloud said on the last night. It wasn't a question. They sat in silence for a long time. "How can I live without my brother?" Leo asked at last. "The answer lies within you. You must find it." Leo gritted his teeth. Words, nothing but words. How could he ever forgive himself for failing to save Quince? As though reading his mind, the old man said, "If you had joined your brother to bearwalk, I'd be sitting here alone beside two graves and the man of darkness would still roam free, hunting your kind."

Yes, he'd killed the stalker. One less for the Voleks to worry about--but too late for Quince. Wind Cloud waved a hand at the reddening horizon where sky met water. "The sun rises. Now your brother is safe and happy in the Home of Spirits." Leo wished he could believe it was true. He meant to leave the village, but apathy from his terrible grief kept him from making plans. He didn't care where he was or what happened to him. Rose had to coax him to eat. Days went by. Weeks. Months. Near the end of July, Leo read in the Gazette about John Dillinger being shot to death outside a Chicago theater. He felt nothing. With Quince gone he didn't care about anything. "Our child will be born in the Moon of Snow," Rose told him one afternoon as they walked barefoot along the shore under the warm August sun. "In December." Sunk in his own misery, Leo didn't at first take in her words but their meaning finally penetrated, shocking him into alertness. He stopped and faced her. "Our child?" She smiled shyly. "You're the one and only man I've been with." He believed her. He'd been her first man and after that she'd been so busy looking after him she wouldn't have had time for another. Staring at her swollen belly, he wondered how he could have missed noticing. Rose's smile faded. "You're angry." "No, not angry. Surprised. And frightened." "Why be frightened? I'm healthy." He took her hand in both of his. "Rose, listen to me. You feared my brother." She nodded. "Then think of the danger. What if the child is born with Quince's wolf eyes? Born a bearwalker?" Rose drew in her breath, eyeing him fearfully. "It won't be." Her words lacked conviction. "It will be. I, too, am a bearwalker when I choose. Ask your grandfather if you don't believe me." She pulled her hand from his and placed both of them protectively over her rounded belly. "I'll never bearwalk again, Rose, there's no cause to be frightened of me. But any child of mine--" He shook his head. "What can I do?" she whispered. "Already he moves inside me, he lives. It's too late for me to take grandfather's medicine, the child must be born."

Leo, busy blaming himself for his stupidity in getting her pregnant in the first place, tried to gather his thoughts. "If he must be born, he must. But I can't leave him here in your village to grow up. He might kill you all." She shuddered, looking away from him. "You knew I'd leave one day, didn't you?" he asked her. "Yes." Her voice was so low he could hardly hear it. "I knew you'd leave without me." "Even if I could take you with me, would you want to be the wife of a bearwalker?" She shook her head, still refusing to meet his gaze. "You won't want to raise one, either," he told her. "I've been putting off going to Chicago; it's past time to leave. I'll come back when the baby's old enough to travel and bring him to my people. We're used to bearwalkers and know how to teach them." She glanced at him and he saw her fear and distaste. "If you'd told me--" Her words trailed off. He didn't need to hear the rest. If she'd known he was the same as his brother she'd never have lain with him. "I'm sorry, Rose." That night he spoke with Wind Cloud and the old man agreed the child must not grow up in the village. "It is good you will take him," he said. "I grow too old and my medicine grows too thin to deal with bearwalkers and those who hunt them." Now that it made no difference if the Voleks knew where he was, Leo borrowed enough from Wind Cloud to wire his family for money, then left for Chicago. Keeping carefully out of the way of cops, he made the rounds until he found Gloria. From her he got Cosette's address. She was living in a cheap walk-up not far from the cafe where he'd first seen the newspaper with Quince's picture. When she opened the door to him she stared in disbelief mixed with dawning hope. "Quincy?" she faltered. "No, it's Leo." He tried to conceal his own shock as he took in her stringy hair and blotchy skin. She was close to emaciation--except for the rounded mound of her belly. Cosette's shoulders sagged. "You might's well come in." He shook his head. "I left something with you at Little Bohemia. Do you have it?" She blinked. "You mean that funny-looking chunk of metal on a thong? I thought it was his. Quincy's. So I kept the thing." "It's mine. I'd like it back."

"I don't know." She chewed on her lip. "Where is your brother? How come he never got in touch with me?" "He's dead, Cosette." His own words ripped into him like a sword. She burst into tears. Leo pushed past her, pulled her after him and closed the door. He put his arms around her, holding her awkwardly while she sobbed on his shoulder. "I kept hoping," she said brokenly. "Oh my God, what am I going to do?" When he finally calmed her, he led her to a dilapidated couch and made her sit down. She looked up at him piteously. "It's his kid. Quincy's. I know 'cause he was the only one for a couple months and then I was so upset after we got back from that awful place up north I couldn't stand a man anywhere near me. It really is his, I wouldn't lie to you." He wasn't so sure of that but he also knew he couldn't take the chance she might be telling the truth. "I'll give you enough money to see you through," he told her. Then he remembered Cosette was a drugger and would spend the money on shooting up. "I'll make arrangements for you to stay in a nicer place until the baby's born," he said. "All right?" She nodded, still tearful. "May I have the metal disk back?" he asked. "Yeah, sure." She essayed a smile. "Thanks for coming by. I really need help. Bad." When she brought him the amulet, Leo hung it around his neck, pushing it under his shirt. He handed her ten dollars, afraid to give her more. "I'll be back tomorrow to get you out of this hole," he said. The next day he left her at a Catholic home for unwed mothers. After promising a thousand dollar donation to the order, he'd told the Mother Superior about Cosette's drug problem and left assured that the nuns would take special pains in caring for her. They would also place the baby for adoption if Cosette didn't feel she could keep it. "You realize," the Mother Superior added, obviously believing him to be the father of Cosette's child, "that babies of drug users are often born prematurely and sometimes don't live." Which would be a blessing. He almost told her so but held his tongue at the last minute and merely said goodbye. Though he told neither the Mother Superior nor Cosette, if the baby did survive, he'd have to take it. He couldn't leave a possible Volek to be raised by strangers. Alone in his hotel room in the hot August night,

memories of Volek House replayed in Leo's mind like unending movie reels: Camping trips with Wolf; the wonder of his first flight with his Uncle Hawk as pilot; school lessons with his cousin Melanie, a sad and somber child who rarely smiled; his half-fearful respect for Grandmother Liisi; his terror when Quince first shifted. His throat tightened. They were all dead--Hawk, Liisi, Wolf, Melanie and Quince. An emotion he'd never felt while his brother lived rose in him, bringing tears to his eyes. Homesickness. He wanted to go home, wanted his family around him, those who understood. Those who loved him, despite what he was. He needed to go home. It was also long past the time he should have told the family about Quince. Hurrying to the lobby, Leo used the hotel phone to ring the long distance operator. In California his mother answered and began to cry so hard when she recognized his voice that she couldn't talk. "Leo, is it really you?" Waino's voice replaced Druse's. "Did you get the money we sent?" "Yes. Thanks. I'll be opening a bank account here in Chicago so I can transfer more funds. But that's not why I called. Quince--" he faltered, then forced himself to go on. "My brother's dead." "I'll tell the others." Waino, as always, sounded unruffled. "For your sake, I'm sorry, but we all knew it was inevitable. Can you give me any details?" He wasn't sure how much, if anything, the family knew about the time he and Quince had spent with Dillinger. They'd used the last name of Voss, the only newspaper picture of either of them was the one with Quince's face turned from the camera and neither of them had ever been arrested. He wasn't about to speak of Dillinger over the phone anyway. Or stalkers. "Quince died of poisoning," he told Waino. Silence from the other end. "Come home, Leo," Waino said at last. "We miss you." "I will. Soon." "Your Cousin Jennifer's getting married in September. I know she'd like you to be at her wedding." Jenny McQuade, the firestarter. Jenny, who'd burned her twin sister so badly when they were toddlers that Lily still bore the scars. True, Liisi had fashioned a protective amulet for Jenny. Leo's fingers caressed the metal disk he wore. Jenny was controlled now, just as he was. But marriage? He shook his head.

"I'm surprised," he told Waino. "We all were. Like Jennifer, he's a doctor, a dynamic young man." Leo couldn't ask over the phone if the man knew about Jennifer's problem, but he doubted she'd told him. He shrugged. With both of them doctors, at least they'd be sure to prevent pregnancy. Which was more than he'd done. "I won't be able to make the wedding," he said. "Give Jenny my love. Give everyone my love." "But you will come home?" "Sometime after the first of the year. With my son." Another silence, shorter this time. "We'll be waiting for you both," Waino told him. Only after he'd hung up did Leo realize he hadn't mentioned the other one. Quince's child. Not that it made any difference. With luck, Cosette's baby wouldn't live to add another potential Volek shifter.

Chapter 10 Marti woke at one in the morning, exactly as she'd planned. Jael slept soundly in the adjoining room with the connecting door open, as always. Until she'd turned fifteen, Marti hadn't minded. She loved Jael more than her own mother or father, more than anyone else in the world--except for one other. But she was no longer a child and the open door limited her privacy. Moonlight streamed into her room, a beckoning silver pathway. The May breeze blowing through the open windows carried the scent of new growth, of spring. From somewhere far off an owl hooted and Marti smiled. Though she'd never again flown with the white owl, she'd never forgotten the exhilaration of the hunt with him. Quincy, she knew, had chosen that same wild freedom rather than suppressing the beast as Leo had learned to do. Arno and Reynolds, too, had been taught to control their shifting. And so the three of them still lived, but poor

Quincy was dead. Two years ago Leo had promised to come home with his son but he hadn't, not yet. Until Leo arrived, no one could be sure what had happened to Quincy. Her father thought a stalker had killed him. A stalker. The dark hunter of her childhood. Marti told herself she'd outgrown childish fears, even if her mother and father still believed her to be a child with a child's feelings. Jael knew better because it was impossible to hide all she felt from her beloved companion. Jael even sensed her jealousy of Beth. "Curtis is your cousin," Jael had reminded her yesterday. "Just as Beth is both your cousin and his. He loves you both, why shouldn't he? The three of you are very young and haven't met many others your age. Someday you may marry, as your cousin Jennifer did two years ago. When you do, you'll choose someone from outside the family, just like Jennifer did." Marti sat up in bed, scowling. Until a few months ago, Curtis had liked her best. But in March, Beth had made her first shaman's journey under Waino's guidance and when she'd returned she'd been changed. Not like a shifter changes because Beth wasn't a shifter. But her spirit journey had altered her, made her older than her sixteen years and given her an aura of mystery. Ever since then Curtis had trailed after Beth, fascinated. He hardly knows I exist any more, Marti thought angrily. And Jael's wrong--I don't want to marry some outsider ever, ever. Curtis is the only one I want. And I mean to have him for my very own, no matter what. There could be no boy better-looking than Curtis with his dark curls, amber eyes and devastating smile. He hadn't shifted for the first time yet but since he was already seventeen every full moon brought the chance he might. He and every one else in the family had been warned to alert Waino the moment a shift was suspected so no one would be harmed. Tonight the moon was two days away from full. Marti had planned carefully. As she'd done for the last two months when the moon was near full, she eased from her bed, taking care to be as quiet as possible. Would tonight be the one? She hoped so, but, if not, she'd try again tomorrow night. Without bothering to put on a robe or slippers, she carefully opened her door and stepped into the hall. Eyeing the wall lights in their brackets and wishing she dared turn them off to avoid being seen, she flowed silently along the corridor toward Curtis's room. She detested the childish flower-patterned long nightgown she

wore. Why hadn't she insisted on pajamas? She'd like silk pajamas, red with gold dragons embroidered on them. Bren sometimes wore a red tunic like that, a tunic that had been his father's. She wasn't supposed to know the Quincy beast had killed Bren's mother and father after she'd freed the beast from the cellar when she was three. Marti had been wrong to free him; she knew better now. Quincy's beast had no control over what he did; he'd never learned any kind of control. Unlike Leo and Arno and Reynolds, he wanted to be a beast. If she were a shapeshifter, she'd be different from any of them, she'd be in control of shifting and in control of the beast part of herself, too. She wasn't a born shifter but that didn't mean she couldn't ever be one. She hadn't exactly shifted during that time with the owl but she had been a part of the bird, feeling what he felt, knowing what he knew. If she'd done it once, couldn't she do it again? Only not with the owl this time. Marti was set to try. It was her secret weapon in the war to win Curtis. He wasn't meant for Beth; he was meant for her. Except for her parents and Jael, everyone liked Beth better than they did her. She didn't care if they did. Except for Curtis. Curtis was the one who mattered. She put her ear to Curtis's door, listening, and heard, very faintly, an owl hoot once more. Marti's heart thumped hard. Hearing the owl again didn't merely mean Curtis had his window open, it was a sign. Not any old bird called, this was her white owl. Trembling with anticipation, she eased the door open and slipped into the room. Marti knew she could move more quietly than anyone in the family, so quietly she could pass like a shadow among them. But she was immediately aware that Curtis, standing at the window with his back to her, sensed her presence. Surprised that he didn't turn or speak, she stayed where she was, just inside the closed door. He was barefoot and wore only the bottoms of his pajamas. He'd grown almost as tall as his father, and his shoulders had broadened until he had the look of a man rather than a boy. Marti stared at his dark hair, willing him to face her. "Go back to your room," he muttered. Instead, she marched across to stand beside him, gazing, as he was, down at the silvered lawn where a rabbit nibbled the new grass. She'd never want to be a rabbit, rabbits were prey and the owl had taught her the thrill of the hunt. Why,

though, was Curtis so interested in the rabbit? Almost as soon as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer. "You're going to shift," she said softly. "Tonight." He glared at her, his tawny eyes bright in the moonlight. "Get out of here, Marti." His voice, unfamiliarly hoarse and raspy, sent a frisson of excitement along her nerves. She was right! "Come with me," she coaxed. "I'll take you to a secret place, one I've never shown to anyone else." "No! No, I have to--" She pressed the palm of her hand against his mouth and reached with her mind and her spirit through the open window, reached through the night until she found the white owl. All at once she traveled a pathway of concentric circles that wound ever smaller and smaller and when she came to the end she was no longer Marti.... Curtis blinked, hoping to clear his vision. He shook his head as if the motion would dissipate the confusion inside. He'd been about to--to--? Frantically he struggled to remember, knowing it was vital. In vain. He felt his consciousness flicker like a guttering candle and at the same time a female voice began to whisper in his mind, a voice he had no will to resist. "Pick her up." He glanced at the floor, unsurprised to see the girl crumpled at his feet. Lifting her into his arms, he waited for the next command. Following the whispered instructions, he carried the girl from his room, along the hall, down the stairs and into the study where he eased her onto the leather couch. Obediently he turned toward the hearth, pressed the third wolf's head on the carving that decorated the panel beside the fireplace and waited. A section of the paneling slid sideways, leaving an opening. Reaching inside, Curtis pushed the switch he'd been told was there and a light went on, illuminating stairs. He lifted the girl into his arms again and carried her through the gap in the paneling and down the stairs. Opening a heavy metal door at the bottom, he walked inside a room, laid her on a cot. He pulled her nightgown over her head and dropped it beside her. Still listening to the voice inside his head, he returned to the stairs, pushed a lever at the top and the panel slid into place. Then he went back to the girl in the hidden room, removing a heavy iron key from the door as he went through.

Though he'd unhesitatingly obeyed every whispered word, a small part of him fought against the compulsion he was under. This helpless fragment knew time was running out. Dreadful danger loomed close at hand, danger only he could avert. When he was told to close the door, lock it and slide the key through the tiny barred opening, terror kept him motionless. Death! the fragment of himself warned. The voice insisted, repeating the instruction until his resistance ebbed and he did as he was told. When he heard the clink of the key hitting the brick floor outside the room, his befogged mind cleared a trifle, enough to let him realize he stood in an unfamiliar room. Where in hell was he? There were no windows in the brick walls that were fancifully draped with brightly colored long silk scarves. A naked girl--Marti--lay unmoving on a fur covered cot. There wasn't any other furniture in the room. "The change has already started," the voice whispered. "Don't fight it." Hair rose on his nape. Change? "Feel and understand as you shift," the insidious whisper ordered. "Learn how to release the other locked inside you, learn and remember." Terrified but helpless, he tore off his pajama bottoms, groaning with the pain as his guts twisted and wrenched, watching in horror as his hands changed to talons. "No matter what, you will not howl." The whisper was fainter now, harder to understand, but still to be obeyed. "At dawn, you will make yourself shift back." And then, alive with new sensations, he heard no more. Free! The beast glanced quickly around, snarling as he realized he was trapped in a room when he longed to be out in the night running. Hunting. He raised his muzzle to howl his frustration and rage but no sound emerged. His gaze fastened on the human stirring on the cot, her female scent swirling in his head. Human and female. A female trapped in this room with him. His groin tightened. If he couldn't hunt, he could mate. He padded toward her. Marti determinedly shut away her fear of the monster looming over her, concentrating on what she'd learned while she'd shared Curtis's body with him. Her first change began inside. Eyes closed, she found the concentric circles and ran along them until she felt the first sickening inner

wrench. Despite the pain, she smiled. Her eyes flew open to watch hair grow to cover her arms as she flung herself off the cot. She'd won! In a moment or two she'd shifted completely, far faster than Curtis had. But she hadn't fought it the way he had. She felt wonderful, free and unfettered, every sense sharp and alert. Perhaps her thinking was fuzzier but she was still Marti as well as the beast she'd become. Her shifting had obviously confused the Curtis beast since his golden eyes were wary as he circled her. She'd never in her life smelled anything as potent as his scent, triumphantly, seductively male. It triggered a hot and violent yearning within her that she discovered she couldn't control. Her beast body took over, edging closer to him, then away, luring him on in a mating dance. Both eager and reluctant, she led him around and around the room, both of them upright like humans until he finally cornered her. First she, then he, dropped to all fours. Before she realized what he meant to do, he licked the side of her muzzle. She snapped at him but he dodged to the side, still keeping her penned in the corner. He was bigger than she was, his sleek, magnificent body covered with dark fur. She fought the urge to run her tongue along his muzzle and growled instead. He licked her face again, his scent overpowering her reluctance and making her ache with the need to mate. Her tongue darted out to touch him. How soft his fur was, how good he tasted. As Marti she had no idea what to do, but instinct drove her beast self, instinct turned her body so she faced into the corner, instinct showed her how to best present herself to him so that he could fling himself onto her, mounting her back while his talons gripped her. As he plunged inside her he nipped her shoulders with his teeth, holding her in place while he thrust hard and fast. She moaned with mixed pain and pleasure, riding a rising swell of such intense bliss she thought she'd die before the journey ended in a shattering explosion of fulfillment. Afterwards, panting, he yanked the fur cover off the cot onto the floor with his teeth and they lay side by side on it, sated and content. When the mating urge rose in them again they rolled on the floor, tangling together in a mock fight, nipping one another until, thoroughly aroused, he

mounted and possessed her, she as eager as he for the union. Then they slept, sprawled on each other. When Marti woke, she found Curtis's leg weighing her down, both of them lying naked on the fur throw. Realizing it must be dawn, she snuggled closer to him and whispered his name. He woke abruptly and stared at her in consternation, then sat up and looked dazedly around. "Christ! Where are we?" She knew he couldn't remember what he'd done while she shared his body. Nor did he recall what they'd done as beasts. But she did. So vividly her body began to throb with need. She rubbed herself against him. Curtis looked at her. "Is that blood?" he asked. For the first time she noticed her thighs were bloodstained. She didn't care. Running a hand along his stomach, she touched his penis, also blood-stained. "Don't do that!" He thrust her hand away, gazing down in consternation as he saw the blood on himself. "Shit!" He jumped up, grabbed his pajama pants and tugged them on. She rose and reluctantly donned her nightgown. He'd been a lot more fun as a beast. Curtis, tugging in vain at the locked door, demanded, "How the hell do we get out of here?" Though they were safe enough from discovery down here, Marti knew they couldn't stay. She didn't want to be caught coming through the secret panel and so she lifted the mattress of the cot, retrieved the long-handled hook she'd made from a metal hanger, handed it to him and gestured that he should shove it under the door. He peered through the barred slot and located the key. Marti sat on the cot as he fished for it. Would Curtis tell her father that he'd shifted? Since he always did what he was supposed to, she decided he would. But she didn't think he'd tell everything. Not about this room or her. Curtis glanced at her over his shoulder. "We're in the basement, aren't we? How did we get down here?" She smiled. "The last I remember I was in my room, afraid I was starting to shift and trying to get rid of you. You put your hand over my mouth and stared at me really strange. You brought me here, didn't you? Christ, Marti, what got into you?" Suppressing a giggle--he'd gotten into her, didn't he realize that yet--she shrugged. "Of all the nutty stunts, locking us in here like this.

Don't you know the beast could have killed you?" He rammed the wire farther under the door. "Damn, where is that key?" Annoyance drove Marti to her feet. After the trouble she'd gone to--why, she'd even risked her life!--all he did was yell at her. Curtis grunted in triumph and hauled the key inside. At the top of the stairs, she showed him the lever and he shoved it, opening the panel. It was barely light and the study was empty. Good, they wouldn't get caught, she told herself as she pressed the wolf head to close the panel. "You go upstairs first," he said. "I'll wait." He was afraid of being seen with her; he wanted to be rid of her as quickly as possible. Marti knew it was wise for them to go to their rooms separately. She also knew he had no memory of the ecstasy they'd shared so how could he feel the same as she did?. Just the same, the way he was treating her made her furious. She glared at him, stalked from the study and made for the stairs. She managed to wash herself and slip into bed before Jael woke. It was hard to go through the day pretending everything was the same as always when her entire world had changed, but she managed that as well. Curtis avoided her completely. She couldn't do anything about that, not immediately, but she had no intention of letting him get away with ignoring her. In the evening, after the day servants left, by judicious eavesdropping, she overheard Waino talking to Arno. "We'll both stay with him tonight," Waino said. She understood they were discussing Curtis. "I knew the boy would shift someday," Arno said, "but it's hard for me as a father to realize the time has come for my son to go through the same agony and risk the same temptations I've faced ever since I was his age." He sighed. "The first time I shifted I nearly scared poor Samara to death. She and Stefan, both kids then, were hiding in the closet spying on me and, of course, the beast caught their scent." "The hiding was Stefan's idea, no doubt," Waino said. "It must have been. Stefan wanted to know what it would be like when the time came for him to shift. And what a bloody tragedy came of it when he did. God, Waino, will it never end?" "Not as long as Voleks continue to be born." "But what's the reason? What's the God damned reason?" "Wolf believed, as his grandfather did, that if there is

an answer it lies in Russia. Hawk died trying to get there. Now that Nicholas has made his first solo flight, perhaps he and Reynolds will succeed where Hawk failed. Or they might go by ship or take the Clipper. Providing the political situation in Russia remains favorable." "When we were young Ivan and I vowed to search every forest in Russia until we found where we'd come from," Arno said. "We never got there; I hope Wolf's sons go. But something always seems to intervene to prevent Voleks from reaching Russia." "One thing at a time, my friend. Tonight we concentrate on Curtis. He's sure to shift since he almost did last night." So that's what Curtis told them, Marti thought, smiling as she slipped away unseen. Nothing about the room, nothing about her. Her smile faded. Curtis knew she'd been with him even if he didn't remember what they'd done as beasts. What did he think happened? She was determined to find out. Marti waited restlessly for the next four days, knowing either Waino or Arno would be keeping a watch on Curtis at night while the moon was near full, even though Curtis had been given his rune-inscribed amulet. Beth, she knew from eavesdropping, had brought back his rune from her spirit journey. The rune was Gebo and Waino hadn't been happy about the choice. Gebo was X and meant gift but also meant union. Only Marti knew how appropriate Gebo was. Curtis had given her the gift of shapeshifting and their mating had been the most wonderful of unions. Gebo would be no challenge for her to overcome--wasn't she one half of X, one half of Curtis's rune already? On the fifth night she set her internal clock to wake her at one. After making her cautious way to Curtis's room and easing his door open, she saw by the dim moonlight filtering through the pulled curtains that he was in bed, his back to her. Was he sleeping? She crept inside, carefully closing the door and tiptoeing to his bed. Excitement pounded through her with each rapid beat of her heart. As she took off her nightgown she felt a hot surge deep inside her. When she'd succeeded in climbing onto his bed and slipping under the covers without waking him, she inched closer and closer to the enticing warmth of his body until her bare breasts were pressed against his back. She wriggled even closer and draped her arm over him, running her fingers down his stomach until she touched the springy hair around his penis.

That's what her father's anatomy book called it but never in her life had she heard anyone say the word out loud. Curtis half-turned onto his back, almost squashing her. She eased free, expecting him to wake but, when he didn't, she reached for him again, her hand closing around his penis, catching her breath as it grew, expanding under her touch. She began to throb with wanting. Why didn't he wake up? Or would he just tell her to leave if he did? He might and she was determined to have what she'd come for. But how? She knew the way the beasts had mated but it was impossible to do it like that with Curtis on his back. With her other hand she felt the hot, wet place between her legs. Would he fit inside her if she sat on top of him? Marti raised herself until she straddled him and eased down, guiding him into her. At first she thought it wouldn't work, but what she was doing felt good and so she persisted, wiggling and twisting as she slowly fitted him in. Curtis groaned, thrusting his hips upward, abruptly shoving all the way in. Unexpectedly, it hurt, surprising a tiny cry from her. His eyes opened. He blinked, then reached for her, grabbing her hips, holding her so she couldn't move while he thrust upward hard and fast. The pain faded and she was beginning to enjoy the sensation when he cried out and stopped moving. Moments later he tipped her off him. "Christ, Marti," he gasped. "You shouldn't be here." He'd liked doing it better than she had, she thought resentfully, so why was he complaining? She reached for the amulet around his neck and traced Gebo with her forefinger. The two of them, linked forever, if he'd only realize the truth. She wished he'd take the amulet off. Mating was much, much better as beasts. But it was too dangerous to be beasts unless they were locked in the room downstairs or were somewhere outside the walls around the grounds. She doubted that she'd be able to entice him into the secret room again. Not without becoming a part of him and that probably wouldn't work either. He'd likely be so wary of her that she wouldn't be able to push past his defenses. So it had to be outside. But how? "You can't stay here," Curtis said, sitting up and looking down at her. She watched his scowl fade, watched him swallow convulsively as his gaze traveled along her naked body. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she thought, he leaned closer and his hand covered one of her breasts.

A new and pleasing tingle ran from her breast down between her legs. To her enjoyment, he continued to caress her breasts. She noticed his penis was enlarging again and smiled in anticipation. Maybe this time they'd get into the right position and it would be as good as when they were beasts. When Curtis spread her legs apart and, positioned above her, entered her, she discovered there was yet another way to mate. It felt better than being on top of him but nowhere near as exciting as beast mating. After he was through, he insisted she leave. "My father or yours is sure to look in on me," he warned. "You were crazy to take such a chance. We're lucky we didn't get caught." She left without argument, determined that their next mating would be the way she wanted it. As beasts.

Chapter 11 A hot August breeze slipped in through the partly open slats of the venetian blinds on the bedroom windows. Jael stood over the sleeping Marti, resisting the impulse to brush a strand of pale hair from the girl's forehead for fear of rousing her. Though it was noon, Marti needed the sleep, Jael knew. It upset Jael that Marti had stopped revealing any of her feelings. She feared she knew why, just as she knew what caused the girl's excessive fatigue. Uneasy because she'd delayed sharing her suspicions with Waino, Jael sighed and retreated into her own room, leaving the connecting door slightly ajar even though Marti now insisted on it being closed. The first time she'd wondered if something was amiss was last month, when something roused her before dawn. She'd gotten out of bed and eased open the connecting door a crack to make certain Marti was all right. She'd seen Marti climbing into her bed. She's been to the bathroom, Jael had told herself. She

didn't question her assumption until several hours later when she found the bottoms of Marti's new silk pajamas snagged on a sliver of wood inside the laundry chute leading to the basement. When she rescued the pajama bottom and examined it to see how badly the silk was damaged, Jael was appalled. The hems on the legs were not only filthy but showed other evidence of having been worn outside--brown pine needles pierced the silk in several places. It was then she'd started piecing together observations she'd considered unimportant at the time. For the last two months Marti, who normally was an early riser, sometimes slept until noon or later. Marti no longer watched every move Curtis made, instead she rather elaborately ignored him. Curtis barely spoke to anyone lately and seemed to spend a great deal of time in his room--something Jael had attributed to the fact he'd so recently shapeshifted for the first time. Marti hadn't asked Jael for any advice for months--since May, to be exact. When she first insisted on having the door shut between their rooms. Jael hadn't confronted Marti about the pajama bottoms but she couldn't dismiss what she'd found. Worried, she began getting up after midnight and checking on Marti. Night after night the girl was in bed asleep and Jael was about ready to give up her spying when finally, last night, she'd found the bed empty and Marti nowhere in the house. Jael meant to go directly to Waino but on the way she'd stopped to look in on Curtis. When she saw he wasn't in his room, it was easy to put one and one together, but Jael postponed telling Waino, wanting to make certain she was right. So she hid in an unused bedroom with the door ajar and waited--for hours. Finally, near dawn, she saw Marti creep along the corridor to her room. Jael stayed where she was until Curtis appeared and slipped into his room. Rather than marching into Marti's room for an immediate explanation, Jael decided to wait until later that morning. Jael dearly loved the girl and hated to hurt her but these secret night rendezvous with Curtis couldn't continue. Though she lacked experience with men, Jael felt sure the two of them were not simply strolling innocently through the pines. The moment she heard Marti stir, Jael flung open the door and strode into her bedroom, hardening her heart against Marti's sleepy, startled face. You and Curtis were out of the house last night, she

began. I know it wasn’t the first time you’ve been together at night. Then she waited. Marti sat up, crossing her arms over her breasts. Did you tell my father? Not yet. Marti's breath eased out, as though she'd been holding it as she waited for Jael's answer. We’re not doing anything wrong. Marti's thought was defiant. You shouldn’t have spied on us. You’re fifteen and Curtis is seventeen. What you’re doing may not seem wrong to you but it can’t go on. Marti raised her chin. You can’t tell me what to do. Jael sighed, hating to threaten the girl. But what else could she do? That’s true, I can’t. But your father can and will. Marti leaped from the bed and rushed to Jael, flinging her arms around her. Please don’t tell papa, please, please. Jael hugged her, wishing she didn't have to hurt Marti. Suddenly Marti pulled away and rushed through the door into the hall. Jael, hurrying after her, saw Marti duck into the bathroom and slam the door. A moment later she heard retching. The poor child was sick. Almost immediately, Jael's training as a nurse suggested an appalling reason for the retching. She turned the knob and, finding Marti hadn't locked the door, entered the bathroom. Marti was crouched over the toilet vomiting. Jael dampened a washcloth and, when Marti was through, helped her to her feet and gave her the cloth to wipe her face. How long have you been sick when you get up in the morning? she asked. Marti looked at her tearfully. It started last month. Do you know what it means? Marti nodded. I looked it up in papa’s books. We have to talk to your father. Now. Her arm around Marti, Jael led her back into the bedroom and stayed there until she was dressed. They found Waino in the tower room. "Marti wants me to tell you something," Jael began. She looked expectantly at Marti. What do you want me to say? Marti bit her lip. That Curtis and I made love. And we’re going to get married and have a baby. Jael cleared her throat. "I'm afraid I haven't carried out my duties as well as I should have," she told Waino, realizing that was the understatement of the year. "Marti and Curtis are having a baby. They want to get married." Waino's glance moved from her to his daughter. Other than a slight frown, his expression didn't change. He was a hard man to rattle.

"You're too young to marry, Marti," he told his daughter. "As for the baby--you don't appear to be too far along. Your mother will mix a potion to--" No! The violence of Marti's unspoken cry made Jael's head ache. I want my baby. It belongs to Curtis and me, not to papa. "Marti wants to keep the baby," Jael said. Waino studied his daughter. "Sit down, Marti." When she hesitated, he snapped, "Do as I say!" Marti sank reluctantly onto a stool. "You, too, Jael," he added. Jael perched on a chair next to Marti. "You shouldn't have children," Waino told Marti. "Not only because you're too young but because you aren't like anyone else in the family. I don't mean your inability to speak, I mean something far more dangerous." Marti stared at him, obviously upset. "Do you remember when you were five and Quincy escaped from the tower? You and I and Jael drove to Los Angeles to find him and you ran off because you thought you could convince Quincy to change from the beast to human. Remember?" Marti nodded. "You got lost, the dark hunter frightened you and so you ran into the first house you saw." I remember the rest but not a house, Marti told Jael. "She doesn't recall going into the house," Jael said. "No, you wouldn't," Waino went on, "because something terrible, something far more frightening to you than the dark hunter happened inside that house. Jael and I weren't there so we don't know what it was. Do you recall Melanie's wedding and the way you felt in the church? Like a balloon blown up too far and ready to explode?" Hesitantly, Marti nodded again. "Jael hurried you from the church before anything happened," Waino said, "but Jael wasn't in that house to rescue you. So you exploded. Four people died because you did, Marti. The man in the house with you and three people in the neighboring house. You killed them without realizing what you were doing. Jael and I had just driven to the house and, if she hadn't sensed the danger and warned me to shield myself, we'd have died as well. We know you didn't mean to kill anyone, but the fact is you did." Marti reached for Jael's hand and clung to it. Did I, Jael, did I do that? Jael would have given anything not to have to tell her

the truth. I’m afraid so. Marti bowed her head. "You've never used that power since," Waino said. "I don't believe you can consciously evoke it. But think about a newborn baby with such a power, Marti. Babies get frustrated over minor things like being wet or hungry. Sudden sounds or strange faces frighten them. What if you bore a child who had the ability to kill everyone around it, a child too young to realize its own power? And what if that child became frightened or upset enough to use the power? Obviously, to save ourselves, we couldn't allow such a child to live. Isn't it better not to take the chance in the first place?" Marti didn't look up or reply. Tears ran down her cheeks. Waino touched her hair briefly. "I know it's a difficult decision but it's one you must make for everyone's sake." He glanced at Jael. "Do what you can to see that she understands." She rose and gently pulled Marti to her feet, leading her from the tower room and down the stone steps. At the bottom Marti turned a tearful face to her. I have to talk to Curtis before papa does. Alone. Please? Jael, aching with sympathy, could see no harm in agreeing. Ten minutes, that’s all, she warned. Marti squeezed her hand, released it, darted through the door leading to the corridor and ran toward Curtis's room. When Marti hadn't returned in the allotted ten minutes, Jael gave her five more before she made her way to Curtis's bedroom and tapped on the door. No one answered. Jael tried the knob and found the door locked. Annoyed, she rattled the knob. "Open the door this minute! Do you hear me, Curtis? Marti?" When she still got no response, Jael grew alarmed. Seeing Bren ambling along the hall, she called to him, asking him to hurry to the tower and fetch Waino. Waino unlocked the door with a master key and flung it open. Neither Curtis not Marti were inside. "If you're looking for Curtis, I saw him going out the back gate," Bren volunteered. "With Marti." "Marti's unpredictable, but I thought better of Curtis," Waino said. He put a cautionary hand on Bren's shoulder. "We won't speak of this in front of the servants." Bren nodded solemnly. "We must find them," Waino told Jael. "In two days the moon will be full and I'm not sure--" He stopped, no doubt

fearing to be overheard. "I blame myself," she said. "Let me go along on the search." Waino shook his head. "You don't know the countryside-the foothills and the mountains. Those of us who do will make up the search party." In the end, Arno and Ivan went alone. Before he left, Arno summoned Nicholas and Reynolds home from the main office of McDee Enterprises in San Francisco, telling the two younger men to begin searching the following morning if Curtis and Marti hadn't been found. Arno and Ivan returned at sunset, exhausted. "Not a sign of them," Arno told Waino. "They must have holed up somewhere. Just wait until I get my hands on that son of mine--I thought he had more sense." "Might they have hitchhiked?" Jael put in tentatively. "I know Marti doesn't like cities but is it possible they headed for the coast instead of into the mountains?" Arno looked at her as though he'd forgotten she was there. "I doubt it. Curtis knows the foothills but the coast is unfamiliar territory to him. Besides, they can't have much money with them." Or anything else, Jael thought. Marti had taken nothing but the clothes she had on and, according to Griselda, Curtis's mother, all that was missing from his room was a blanket from his closet. Sleep proved impossible. Sometime after midnight, Jael still awake, heard a long, quavering howl. She sat up, her heart pounding in terror. When an answering howl rose to join the first, she sprang to her feet and ran into the hall, almost falling over Bren who stood shivering just outside her door. "It's the beast," he whispered. Needing comfort as much as he did, she put an arm around him and drew him to her side. At twelve, Bren hadn't yet begun his adolescent spurt of growth and he didn't quite reach to her shoulder. "The howling sounded far away," she said as reassuringly as she could. "I think I heard two beasts," he said, echoing her own fears as he pressed close to her. Other doors opened, family members spilling into the corridor. Nine-year-old Zach and Sara, standing hand in hand in the doorway of the room they shared, stared with wide, frightened eyes until Beth collected them and brought them to Samara.

"Since none of us will sleep a wink anyway, I'll go down and make coffee," Cecelia said and started for the stairs. Jael offered to help and followed Cecelia, with Bren trailing at her heels as though he was afraid to let her out of his sight. Druse joined them in the kitchen, setting out bread, sandwich fixings, silverware and china for Bren and Jael to carry to the long buffet in the dining room. The others straggled downstairs, selecting food from the buffet and sitting here and there around the table. After a while, Jael noticed that Bren took nothing. "Would you like some milk and cookies?" she asked. He shook his head, his "No thanks" all but inaudible. Taking a good look at him, Jael noted that his skin, normally a healthy sallow color was far paler than usual. Seeing that everyone was now gathered in the dining room, she drew Bren into the kitchen. "What's the matter?" she asked, tipping his chin up to get a good look at his face. "Don't you feel well?" "It's my fault," he muttered, not meeting her gaze. "What is?" "I should've told." "For heaven's sake, Bren, told what?" He sighed. "About the kittens. In the barn." There'd been cats in the barn every since Jael had come to Volek House. She remembered five-year-old Marti adding to the barn's feline population by bringing home a striped kitten from Bakersfield. Holding to her patience, Jael said, "What about the kittens in the barn?" "Well, you know how Marti likes cats." Jael did. Since no cat would willingly remain in the house, cats being able to sense a shapeshifter even in human form, Marti had to go to the barn to play with the striped kitten she'd named Gato. When Gato grew into a staid adult, Marti had found other kittens to play with. "It was a rainy day in May," Bren said. "Zach and Sara and I went to the barn to swing on the trapeze bars in the hay loft like we do sometimes when it rains. So we were up there fooling around when Marti came in. The old black cat was nursing her kittens down below and Marti started toward her. That mama cat jumped straight up in the air, yowling and spitting, and flew up the loft ladder with her fur on end. The kittens ran away from Marti as fast as they could go. "Marti just stood there until she saw me looking at her

from the loft and then she put her finger to her lips and ran out of the barn. Zach and Sara didn't see her so they never knew what spooked the cat." Jael stared at him. "You mean you think Marti scared the cat and her kittens?" "It was Marti all right. We petted them when we came in earlier and they didn't mind us but they sure did scat from her. She didn't want me to tell anyone, so I didn't." The implications of Bren's tale frightened Jael. He must be wrong. Marti wasn't a shapeshifter. There had to be another explanation. Jael took a deep breath and let it out slowly. May was when Curtis had shifted for the first time. And, judging by her morning sickness, May must have been the month when Marti became pregnant. "I guess I better tell Uncle Waino." Bren looked terrified at the prospect. Poor kid. None of this was his fault. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't feel so bad, you didn't do anything wrong." "If I'd told right away Uncle Waino would've known something was wrong with Marti. Then maybe he and Beth could've stopped it from happening." He glanced toward the kitchen windows. "Now she's with Curtis and they're both-both--" A howl stopped him. He reached for Jael's hand and gripped it hard as they listened to the chilling ululation. As before, a second howl began before the first ended. Jael closed her eyes. Dear God, she prayed, protect Marti. The kitchen door swung open. "There you are," Waino said. "Come into the dining room; I want us all together." "Bren has something to tell you first," Jael said sadly. Later, in the dining room, Cecelia reminded them that Wolf had said Marti was not a shapeshifter. Up until now, Wolf had always been right--except for Leo, of course. But Leo hadn't been a shifter at birth, somehow his brother's bite had infected him, had made him shift. Samara wondered if Curtis had bitten Marti but Jael insisted there'd been no visible evidence of a bite. "Ever since we were little," Beth said at last, "I could feel Marti's power when I was near her--it crackled like electricity. Before I made my journey I was always a bit afraid of her. Now that I've learned enough to understand her power is terribly dangerous I'm more afraid." Waino and Jael glanced at one another, remembering how that power had killed.

Waino looked from one to the other of the family. "We all know Curtis is a shifter," he said. "My conclusion is Marti wanted so much to be like Curtis that she used this power Beth speaks of to turn herself into a shifter." Jael, no longer able to deny the truth, blinked back tears, imagining her dearly loved Marti as a beast running in the night. "We'll continue to search for them," Waino said. "During the day. As of now, no family member is to leave the house after dark. The servants will be sent home well before sunset." "No night searching?" Arno asked. Waino shook his head. "We've already lost Wolf because of a night search. And Sergei Volek died in these foothills while trying to rescue his shifter grandson." "That was my brother Stefan," Samara put in. "Waino is right. Death came to my grandfather and my father in hunts for the beasts. Must we lose more of us? To go into the hills at night means death." A week later, despite daily family search parties, Curtis and Marti hadn't been found. Jael understood it was risky to ask the authorities or any of the neighbors for help--or even to mention that two Voleks were missing. Just this morning she'd overheard two of the maids whispering about the night howling. "My pa says 'tain't wolves," Loretta confided to Sally. "He says it's well known in these parts that something straight outa hell roams them hills." "Well," Sally said, "my grandma says the sooner I quit this job the better, on account of she thinks the Voleks know something about that howling. She tells tales about the Volek family that'd make your hair stand on end. Makes me think maybe I oughta quit." "Yeah, but where else'd you get such good money?" "Money ain't everything." It had never been the money that kept her at Volek House, Jael thought as she moved out of earshot. From the beginning Marti was the reason she'd stayed. And now she'd failed Marti. She passed the music room where Cecelia, who exercised every day, was dancing while Samara played for her. Jael stopped to watch and saw Bren dancing, too. Or was it a dance? "Hand Strums the Lute," Cecelia called to Bren. Then, seeing Jael, halted her graceful movements. "I didn't mean to disturb you," Jael began.

"You aren't." Cecelia studied her a moment. "Come here, Jael." When Jael reached her, Cecelia reached up and briefly kneaded the back of Jael's neck. "You've got yourself so worked up," Cecelia said, "that your muscles are as tight as a stretched elastic band." "I can't help being worried." Jael's tone was defensive. "Worried, yes, that's understandable. But blaming yourself is wrong. No one in the world could stop Marti once she made up her mind to do something, so why should you think you might have? Come, join Bren and me in T'ai Chi Ch'uan. It's a wonderful remedy for worry." "I'm no dancer," Jael protested. "This is different. When I was young I studied with Madame DuJour in San Francisco. Madame spent her childhood in Indo China where she embraced many customs of the Orient. She insisted any dancer she taught must learn T'ai Chi Ch'uan for inner harmony. Only after reaching such harmony, Madame believed, can anyone truly express herself. T'ai Chi Ch'uan is the Taoist way of placing the body and mind in harmony through a series of basically simple specialized movements." "I'm not at all graceful," Jael said. "And I'm not dressed for--" "This will teach you grace." Cecelia ran an appraising eye over Jael's sensible low heeled shoes and full skirt. "Your clothes are fine." "It's fun," Bren chimed in. "Honest." "We'll start with a simple exercise, Grasping the Bird's Tail," Cecelia said. "Listen carefully and do as I do." Seeing she had no choice but feeling exceedingly foolish, Jael did as she was told. After they finished, Cecelia praised her, saying she'd done well for a beginner. Bren, who trailed Jael from the music room, offered to teach her more of the movements. "You have to go slow at first," he confided, "but once you know all the motions by heart you can speed them up. If you do Golden Cockerel Stands on One Leg fast you can see it's really for fighting." Jael cocked an eyebrow at him. "Cecelia said the exercises were for harmony, not fighting." "Fighting's like dancing. You can't fight well till you have inner harmony." Bren was as patient as if she were the child and he the adult. "Once you get mind and body working together you can do anything. Confucius says so in the book Aunt Cecelia bought me. He was a great man and he was

Chinese, like me." Jael smiled. "I've heard of Confucius." "I can't ever be a shaman like Beth or get into people's minds like Marti 'cause I wasn't born a Volek. So I decided to learn to be a good fighter. If my mother and father had known how to fight, maybe they wouldn't have died." "If you're not a Volek then you don't carry the curse of shapeshifting either," she reminded him. He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. "That's why I couldn't be friends with Curtis even before he shifted. 'Cause I knew he would sometime." "Remember, Curtis didn't ask to be a shifter." Bren shot her a sideways glance. "They never told you how come I'm named Volek, did they?" "Probably because they adopted you." "Yeah, but you know why they adopted me? It's 'cause when Quincy was first locked up, he escaped as a beast and killed my mother and my father. I wasn't born yet but Waino cut into my mother and saved me." Horrified, Jael bit back a startled exclamation. "Who told you this?" she asked. "It's true. I heard Aunt Griselda and Uncle Arno talking about it when I was six. I was glad when I knew Quincy was dead." Bren stepped away from her and executed a rapid T'ai Chi Ch'uan movement, one with doubled fists and kicking feet. When he finished, he looked at her from under his brows. "You're the only one who can find Marti, aren't you?" Taken aback, still shocked by his revelation about his parents, Jael tried to decide what to say. "I might be able to," she replied cautiously. "So why don't they let you hunt for her?" Before she could come up with an answer, he went on. "Marti's not really a shifter, Curtis made her do it. If we could rescue her from him she'd be just Marti and never change into a beast again." "It's more complicated than that, Bren." His expression took on a sullen cast. "That's what adults always say when they don't want to listen. If you'd come with us and find Marti, Beth and I could control Curtis and bring Marti back home." "Marti might not want to return." Jael's voice was sad. "Does that mean you won't help Beth and me?" Heeding the undercurrent in his voice made her realize that Bren, at least, meant to search on his own if she wouldn't accompany him. She couldn't permit that, it was too

dangerous. Surely Beth wouldn't go along with such a harebrained scheme and maybe, knowing Bren better, Beth could talk some sense into him. "Let me talk to Beth before I make any decisions," she temporized. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was almost noon. Jael had fallen into the habit of looking in the study around noon because someone always had the radio on then, tuned to a news broadcast. Today, Bren followed her there. Ivan was alone in the study. Again, fighting--the Spanish Civil war, Germany invading the Rhineland, Italy in Ethiopia--dominated the news. The United States government reiterated its policy of neutrality. "I fought one war in Europe," Ivan said, "and one was enough. Damned right we should stay out of it and let them settle their own squabbles." "Were you in the trenches?" Bren asked. Ivan nodded. "A nasty business." He went on talking about fighting in France until the station switched to local news. "Wolves or grizzlies?" the announcer asked. "Thompsonville's abuzz with reports of sightings of wild beasts roaming the Sierra foothills. Ranchers living close to the hills claim the animals must be wolves because they howl at night but Jack Robertson, a forest service worker, insists what he saw two nights ago was a grizzly." "'Over six feet, walked like a man,' Robertson said in his interview with a reporter for the Visalia Times-Delta. 'God never created any such wolf.'" Ivan sighed. "No, God didn't. But I've often wondered why in hell He created Voleks who turn into beasts." Not only shapeshifters, Jael thought, but the dark hunters who prey on them. Why? Wasn't it past time the Voleks did more to find out?

Chapter 12

The day was uncomfortably hot despite the shade of the pines. August, Jael had discovered, was always hot in the valley. She pushed the brim of her straw hat up to dab at the perspiration on her forehead, thinking how much cooler it would be inside the stone fortress of Volek House. But Beth and Bren were determined to look for Marti and Jael hadn't felt they ought to go outside the grounds on their own, even in broad daylight. Besides, there was always the possibility she might pick up a trace of Marti where no one else had. After all, she was the only one who was attuned to Marti's mind. "We can't go too far," she cautioned, "because we have to be back by sundown. And, besides, I wouldn't want to get lost." "We won't get lost as long as we stick to the blazed trails," Bren assured her. Jael, a city girl, had trouble spotting the blazed trees even when the other two pointed them out to her. "I'm not much of a woodsman," she said. The next moment she jumped when something darted from under her feet and raced up a pine trunk. "Just a squirrel," Bren said. "Don't be afraid, there aren't any dangerous animals around here." "During the day, anyway," Beth added. "Except maybe for rattlesnakes. But we're not likely to run across any." The very thought of poisonous snakes made Jael shudder. "I love the scent of pines, don't you?" Beth said. Jael took a deep breath and had to admit the smell was pleasant. If she viewed it objectively, there was also beauty to be found in the way the sun slanted through the thickly needled branches, just as the sound of the wind in those branches soothed the ear. She decided to make a determined effort to forget her uneasiness and try to enjoy the woods as much as she could. If her mind was calmer her senses might be sharper. Time passed, Jael's handkerchief became soaked with perspiration, and still they plodded on. This is truly a fool's errand, she told herself when they paused at last to rest. She leaned against a fallen log and closed her eyes, one thought pulsing through her mind. Marti, Marti where are you? No answer came and she half-dozed, vaguely aware of Bren and Beth arguing about whether Curtis was to blame or not. "There's nothing wrong with Curtis except Marti," Beth snapped finally. "He never would've run off like this if Marti hadn't persuaded him to. I've come along for his sake,

not hers." Bren retreated into temporary silence. Overhead a bluejay called and, from far off, another jay answered. Jael, lulled by the reassuring sounds of the pine grove, didn't at first recognize the faint stirring in her mind for what it was. Marti! Her eyes flew open. Quelling the impulse to leap to her feet, she mentally cast in all directions, questing. Which way? Where? It was difficult to be sure. Marti, she could tell, wasn't deliberately contacting her. I've come close enough to sense her, Jael decided, doing her best to tamp down her excitement since she wanted no emotion to interfere with her sensing. She rose and turned in a slow circle, once, twice, three times. There. Jael stopped, facing the direction where the feeling of Marti's presence was the strongest. "Did you find her?" Bren whispered. "She's somewhere off that way," Jael said, pointing. "Not close." "I told you Jael could find her," Bren muttered to Beth. "That's north," Beth said. "We'll lose the marked trail if we head north." Bren pulled out a pocketknife. "I'll make our own blazes and we can follow them back." Eager to go on now that she sensed Marti, Jael made no protest. "If Marti's there, Curtis will be, too," Beth said. "Okay, lead on." They hiked north, haltingly now as Jael made frequent stops to be sure she still sensed Marti and Bren cut notches in tree trunks. The pines thinned, giving way to scruffy brush among scattered giant boulders. Deprived of tree trunks, Bren resorted to hacking off twigs and laying them across one another, forming arrows to mark their trail. The August sun beat down so cruelly that the heat pressed like a weight on Jael's head and shoulders. When clouds edged up the sky to cover the sun, she breathed a sigh of relief, not worrying about what the clouds might mean. Thunderheads sometimes gathered over the mountains in the afternoon but it rarely rained in August. "Marti's closer," Jael announced after they'd splashed across a nearly dry creekbed shaded by live oaks. She pointed toward a ragged cliff visible some distance ahead. "Caves?" Bren suggested. "My father and Uncle Arno would have checked all the

caves," Beth said. "They could've missed one," Bren insisted. "Or maybe there's a couple they don't know about." He held out his hand. "Hey, was that a drop of rain I felt?" Jael stopped and stared up at the sky. Thick black clouds roiled overhead and several drops of rain spattered on her upturned face. "Maybe we'd better look for some kind of shelter," she said, certain the rain wouldn't last long. "There's an overhang up ahead." Beth gestured. Minutes later, they huddled under a shelf of rock while rain battered the ground and ran off the surrounding boulders in rivulets. Lightning zigzagged down the dark sky and thunder boomed, echoing from the hills. "It hasn't rained in August since I came to Volek House," Jael said. "We get thunderstorms like this once in awhile," Beth told her. "Not usually in August, though. Maybe it was sent." "Sent?" Jael asked. "To prevent us from finding Marti and Curtis. Waino warned me about a malevolent force that almost conquered Wolf on his final shaman journey. When I made my journey I wasn't attacked, but a shadow watched me. Watched and waited." Beth shivered and stared at the slashing rain as if suspecting the shadow lurked in the heart of the storm. Jael thought of her own dark shadow, a shadow that, thank God, hadn't come to terrorize her since the night she was forced to set Quincy free from the tower. "It's just a storm," Bren muttered. "Pretty soon the rain'll stop and we can go on." As if in answer, lightning slashed across the sky and a rolling crash of thunder deafened them. Jael glanced at her watch and frowned. Hadn't it been two o'clock the last time she looked? Noticing the second hand wasn't going around, she shook her wrist. The watch didn't restart. When she checked the winder she found it was tight. Neither of the others wore a watch. "My watch stopped," she said. "How long will it take to get back to the house?" "A couple of hours at the most," Bren said. "Don't worry, we've got lots of time." Beth shook her head. "Whatever brought the storm also stopped Jael's watch. We're in danger." The skin prickled on Jael's arms. Obviously they could neither locate Marti nor find their way back home as long as the rain sluiced down like this. How long would it

last? Beth huddled in on herself and began chanting in a language Jael didn't recognize. Bren edged closer and Jael put an arm around him. "Is it true what Beth says?" he whispered. "I think the storm is just a storm," she said firmly. "And my watch probably needs a good cleaning." "Then maybe what I saw moving around out there was only some kind of animal that belongs in the hills," he said. "It's gone now, anyway." Nothing was visible except the rain. How could she be sure whether Bren had actually seen something or not? With no way to tell how much time passed, it felt like hours to Jael before Bren said, "It looks like the rain's letting up some." He was right. After a while the rain stopped altogether, though scattered clouds remained. Jael stepped from under the overhang and faced the cliff. "I feel Marti strong and clear," she said. "Not far away. But it might be too late in the day to go on." She took a deep breath, hating to turn back now but afraid it might be dangerous if they didn't. "We'd better start for home." "I'm not sure we can," Bren said, staring at the wide stream of water running down the slope they'd climbed. "Looks like my markers got washed away." "We'll find our way." Jael's voice was grim. She urged Beth from the shelter. "We've got to reach Volek House before dark." Some time later, Jael admitted they were lost. The only reference point any of them recognized was the ragged cliff-which certainly wasn't the way home. Yet whichever way they went they seemed to circle back toward the cliff. "I was wrong," Beth said. "The storm wasn't meant to keep us from finding Marti and Curtis, it was sent to prevent us from going home. We might as well head for the cliff because we really don't have any choice." She started in that direction without waiting for them. Jael and Bren hurried to catch up. Whatever happened, they must keep together. And wasn't finding Marti preferable to wandering, lost and confused, over the hills until darkness closed in? The nearer they came to the cliff, the stronger Jael sensed Marti. Marti, not some horrible beast. Marti, alive, thank heaven. She stared at the cliff, lost in her own thoughts until Bren grasped her arm. "Look." He pointed to a footprint in the wet ground.

The print hadn't been made by any of their shoes. It was smaller than Jael's and about the same size as Bren's and Beth's. Beth crouched beside the print, eyes closed, her hand hovering over it. She rose and swung around to look at the cliff. "What do you think? Is it Marti's?" Jael asked. Beth shook her head. "The print was made by what Bren saw in the rain." "Animals don't wear shoes," Jael said. "Stalkers do." Beth's voice was barely audible. A stalker! Jael clenched her fists. Stalkers hunted shapeshifters. Hunted Marti. Her Marti. She gritted her teeth and marched forward. Beth caught her arm. "Stalkers are dangerous." "I won't stand back and let Marti be killed." Jael pulled away and hurried on. After a moment Beth and Bren caught up to her, keeping a few paces behind. Pressure began to grow in Jael's head, becoming so intense she was forced to a halt. A frisson of fear rippled along her spine as she understood what she was feeling. Whirling, she snapped, "Protect yourself, Beth. Bren, gather ch'i energy around yourself. Quickly!" As she shoved them behind a boulder and crouched there with them, Jael brought her own mind shield into place. A gun cracked up ahead--once, twice. The scream of rage mingling with the shots scraped along her nerves. Without warning, she was flung backwards. She blacked out. When Jael came to, she found herself in a tangle with Beth and Bren. Weak and depleted, it took all her energy to extricate herself. She looked at the others. Beth's eyes were open but she seemed in a daze. Bren moaned with each breath. She couldn't be sure how badly they were hurt but, thank God, they were alive. When she'd sensed Marti's power expanding, she'd feared Beth and Bren might not survive the explosion. They'd survived but they were hurt and she had no way to help them home. What was she to do when she didn't even know where home was? The only thing she was certain of was that Marti was somewhere near the cliff. Marti and what else? Unable to think of any solution, Jael decided she could at least try to find Marti. She got to her feet and trudged toward the cliff, stopping often to rest. When she finally reached its foot, she searched for the opening she knew must lead to a hidden cave. After a time she edged between two boulders and faced a dark maw. No sound came from within.

Marti? she thought, finding the mind-send difficult because of her weakness. She couldn't see anything in the darkness and Marti didn't respond--though Jael could sense her presence. Gathering courage she didn't know she possessed, Jael forced herself to enter the cave, shuffling and groping her way inside. She tripped over something soft and almost fell. Fighting her fear, she knelt and ran her hands over the obstacle. A human body. Alive, because a pulse beat faintly in the neck. Not Marti's features, her fingers told her. Long hair. She snatched her hands away. Curtis didn't have long hair. This was the body of a stranger. Of a stalker? Doing her best to ignore her rising terror, Jael edged past the body, hands outstretched. She found a second body several feet away from the first. No pulse. Her fingers touched a warm, wet and sticky substance she feared was blood. From the short hair on the head she decided it must be Curtis. Dead. Marti lay about a foot to his right, the pulse in her neck so thin and thready Jael thought at first there was none. Lifting Marti into her arms, she staggered toward the dim opening, left the cave, inched around the boulders and stumbled into the open where she eased Marti to the ground and slumped beside her, unable to go on. Colors streaked the western sky; the sun was setting. Jael understood this but it had no meaning. Her mind roiled chaotically, she was unable to think. Shadows crept around her, growing darker and darker. A distant call was repeated again and again. A bluejay? Some time passed before she realized what she heard was a man shouting her name. Jael opened her mouth but only a croak emerged. She was as mute as poor Marti. A memory surfaced of a childhood talent she'd learned from the boys in the orphanage. Putting her little fingers into her mouth and placing her tongue just so, Jael blew. The whistle cut through the gathering darkness. By the time the search party--Ivan, Arno, Nicholas and Reynolds--reached her, Jael was able to speak in a whisper and tell them enough so they could find the others. Then she collapsed. When Jael awoke she was in her own bed, wearing one of her nightgowns. Narrow strips of sunlight leaked through the slits in the blinds so she knew many hours had passed. Her first thought was of Marti. She sat up, steadying herself against dizziness, carefully got to her feet, made her way

unsteadily to the connecting door and opened it. Marti lay in her bed with her mother bending over her. Druse straightened as she glanced at Jael. "You shouldn't be up." "How is she?" Jael asked. She'd never seen Marti look so frail, almost shrunken. "Alive." Druse blinked back tears. "But she doesn't respond at all." "Beth and Bren?" Jael asked. "They'll recover, I think. I'm not so sure about the other one." Jael stared at her. "I thought Curtis was dead." Druse sighed. "He is. The men buried him in the hills rather than bringing him home and having to answer questions about his death. The official story has Curtis visiting his Uncle Leo in Chicago. By the other one I meant the stalker." "You mean the stalker's here at Volek House?" "She was alive--what could they do, leave her there to die? Or worse, recover and come hunting us?" "But she--I mean, isn't she dangerous?" "Not yet. And she may never be. You'll understand when you see her. For now you really should rest." Jael couldn't. Though it took her some time to dress herself, she persisted, then returned to Marti's room. "Let me stay here with her," she begged Druse. By the next day, Jael felt well enough to visit Beth and Bren, who'd been bedded down side by side in the old nursery. "Marti used her power, didn't she?" Beth asked. Jael nodded. "I knew she was dangerous. If I hadn't taken my shaman journey, so I knew enough to deflect her power, I'd be dead." Beth looked over at Bren. "Poor kid, he got the worst of it." Bren's eyes were dark slits in his swollen face. His voice was a hoarse croak as he asked, "How's Marti?" "She's still in a coma." "She'll be all right, won't she?" "I don't know." Jael realized she sounded as hopeless as she felt. Deep within her she knew Marti would never get well. Jael was sure the terrible scream she'd heard when the gun went off had been Marti's as she realized Curtis would die. Without Curtis, she feared Marti had no will to live. "Have you seen--her?" Beth asked. "The stalker?" "Not yet." "My father says they intend to study her, to try to find

out just what a stalker is. After you visit her, let me know what she's like, will you?" Later, gazing down at the pale face of the brown-haired young woman who lay on a cot in the tower room, Jael's first thought was that the stalker looked completely ordinary. Waino was alone with the woman. He drew Jael aside, speaking in low tones. "Druse examined her thoroughly and found nothing unusual--she might be anyone. Except, of course, she survived Marti's explosion of power, unlike those four in LA. Jennifer's arriving tomorrow to see Marti and I'll ask her to look at Susan. As a doctor she might find something Druse missed." "Susan's her name?" Waino nodded. "Sometimes a person in a coma will respond to questions. When Druse asked her name, that's what she said. We didn't learn anything more. The only other word she uttered was 'mama'." Jennifer's examination revealed nothing that set Susan apart from any other human. Susan, Jennifer believed, had sustained brain damage--how severe she couldn't determine as yet. The prognosis she gave for Marti was even gloomier. "I'd never admit this to a colleague," Jennifer told Druse and Jael, "but it seems to me I examined only the shell of Marti, that her body lives but her spirit or soul or whatever one calls it, is missing." Jael had felt something similar, the same feeling she used to have of a body's emptiness after a patient died. Yet Marti's body lived. Where was her essence? "What can we do for Marti?" Druse asked Jennifer. "I don't know what to tell you other than to feed her, massage her arms and legs to keep her muscles in tone, wait and--hope." "What about the baby?" Jael asked. Jennifer shrugged. "Marti may miscarry, she may not. The pregnancy's a severe drain on her limited resources but she's so frail I doubt she'd survive if I attempted an abortion." Marti wouldn't want an abortion. Marti, Marti where are you? Jael thought desperately. The body on the bed didn't respond. Not wanting to break down in front of Jennifer, Jael walked to the window and stared unseeingly at the pine grove, her forefinger absently tracing circles on the sill, circles that led nowhere. Jael blinked, coming to attention. Marti had mentioned circles to her once. Something about traveling along

concentric circles.... Marti swooped from her perch at the top of a tall sycamore, glorying in her noiseless flight as she stalked the prey. After circling she dropped, talons extended to pounce triumphantly on the baby rabbit nibbling grass near the rose garden. Its death wail stopped abruptly as one of her talons pierced its heart. Carrying the carcass to a wide, low branch, she fed, gorging on the bloody meat, swallowing fur and all. Later, she'd eject in a neat wad what she couldn't digest. She lived for the night and the hunt, sleeping during the day on her secret perch in the pine grove, a place so hidden even the nosy, noisy jays hadn't yet discovered where she roosted. After she'd eaten her fill, she preened her white feathers and then flew up to a higher branch for a clear view of her hunting grounds. She was an owl, a majestic white owl, a relentless and devastating hunter. When doubts gnawed at her, she cast them out as ruthlessly as indigestible fur. She was an owl; an owl she'd remain. And if the caller would leave her alone she'd be supremely content. Lately something new had been nagging at her, something besides the caller, something tiny but perpetually demanding. Worse, every so often she sensed the owl as a being apart from her. Such episodes lasted only momentarily but they disoriented her, distracting her from the hunt. She hooted four times--low, mournful cries proclaiming her ownership of the hunting grounds and establishing that she was an owl. Twice more she hooted, hoping to banish the urge stealing over her, an urge that came more and more often, the urge to fly to the great stone building, perch on the top of a tall apricot tree nearby and listen to the caller. An urge she found impossible to resist. As soon as her claws gripped the apricot limb, she stared with her round yellow eyes at the light shining in the building while the calling crept insidiously inside her. Come back, it demanded. Leave the owl, return to yourself. You’re Marti, not an owl. Marti. She knew she was Marti but she was also an owl. One and the same--Marti/owl. Come back. Your body is dying. If you body dies, so will your child. Curtis’ child. She wouldn't listen; she refused to understand. And yet, deep inside she knew what the words meant. Deep inside

where an abyss of terror and pain waited to engulf her if she ever forgot she was an owl. With a frantic flapping of her powerful wings, she swooped from the tree and flew into the night. How many nights passed before the caller and the tiny demander linked? She didn't know for she was an owl and owls have no concept of time other than day and night. But the linkage was strong enough to force her to the apricot tree at dusk, before her nightly hunt. Marti, Marti, come Marti, the baby is dying. You must come back. Now! Hurry! The call vibrated through her, mingling with the insistent throbbing demand from the tiny other until she couldn't bear the pressure. With a sickening wrench, Marti split away from the owl. It flew off into the shadows but she spun the other way, falling, falling, falling into the light inside the stone building. Marti opened her eyes. Two faces hovered above her. Her mother. Jael. Marti? Jael mind-sent. A spasm of abdominal pain gripped Marti and she clutched at her stomach. Hurts, she told Jael. Your baby’s trying to be born. Baby. Her baby. No longer could she shore up the fragile dam she'd constructed against the devastating flood of truth: The stalker. The gun. Curtis dying. She wailed, a terrible cry of pain and grief and rage. The baby, Jael reminded her. Think of you baby. The baby belongs to Curtis, too. Try to be strong for the baby’s sake. Another abdominal spasm transfixed Marti. She gripped Jael's hand hard. Nicholas is flying your cousin Jennifer here from San Francisco, Jael told her. She’s a doctor; she’ll help you. Marti knew Jennifer was a doctor but the pain was so bad she didn't think anything could help her. Please make the hurting stop, she begged Jael. Ask mama to give me one of her potions. We can’t give you anything because the baby’s coming early. Whatever you take will affect the baby and it might be harmed if Druse gave you medicine for your pain. For a moment Marti hated the baby for putting her through such agony. Hated the baby and Curtis, too, for giving her the baby, then dying and leaving her alone. She focused her attention on the baby and retreated in confusion and shock at the blast of terror she felt.

Something’s wrong, she told Jael. Everything’s all right. You’ll forget the pain when you hold your baby in your arms. Marti recoiled at the notion of holding whatever it was she'd encountered inside her. It’s not a baby. Tears wet her cheeks. Beasts mated, not Curtis and me. We were beasts. A grinding, overwhelming spasm interrupted her attempt to explain. Searing pain filled her body and mind until nothing else existed.... Jael stared in revulsion at the thing Jennifer removed from Marti. She'd seen monsters born before but this one was the most grotesque of all. It lay on the sheet-draped table next to the bed, the after-birth still attached. Thick hair covered most of its misshapen male body, a body barely recognizable as human. Thank God it had never drawn breath. "There's another coming." Apprehension, then shock rang in the doctor's voice. "Oh, Christ!" Jael bit back a scream as the tiny muzzle of a beast pushed out from Marti's birth canal. She heard Jennifer's teeth grit together as the doctor nerved herself to ease the rest of the small furred body free. Another male. It opened its eyes, snarled weakly, revealing needle-sharp teeth, and began to cough. Aware it was choking from mucus in its air passages, Jael involuntarily reached for the creature, ready to help it breathe as she would any newborn. "No." Jennifer held the beast cub away from her. When the placenta slid out, she laid the creature on the table next to its dead twin, warning, "Don't touch it." Jael bit her lip as the thing struggled in vain for air. She glanced at Druse who was staring aghast at the creature who was her grandchild. Beast or not, how could they stand back and let it die? Jael opened her mouth to say so when the doctor's gasp distracted her. "Good God, here comes another!" Jennifer cried. "A litter of the damn things." The tiny naked buttocks of a third male appeared in the birth canal. Perspiration beaded Jennifer's forehead as she worked to bring down the legs and then ease free the baby's head. "Human," Druse whispered. Her eyes rolled up and she crumpled to the floor in a faint. At the same time, Jennifer handed the baby to Jael, saying tersely, "Hemorrhage." Jael, hurriedly clearing mucus from the infant's throat,

was aware of the blood pouring from Marti and the doctor's frantic efforts to stem the bleeding. Futile efforts. Helpless to alter what was happening, she agonized as Marti's presence in her mind faded. A baby boy, Jael told Marti. You have a son. She could only hope her mind-send didn't come too late for Marti to understand.

Chapter 13 Jael paused just inside the study door, two-year-old Elias balanced on her hip. Waino sat behind the desk with twelve-year-old Sara and Zach standing on the other side, facing him. Sara tossed her dark hair, disarranging the smooth pageboy. "I don't care what anyone says, Susan wouldn't ever, ever hurt me." Sara glared at her twin brother. "I bet you tattled." Zach shook his head. "I never did." Jael intervened. "I was the one who told Waino." Both Sara and Zach swung around to stare at her. Jael eased the door shut, crossed to the leather couch and sat down, shifting Elias to her lap. He shoved his thumb into his mouth and leaned against her. "It's none of your business what I do," Sara muttered. "That's quite enough, Sara." Waino spoke curtly. "When any child in Volek House deliberately defies a safety rule it's everyone's business." "I'm not a child!" Defiant to the last, that was Sara, her nature as dark as her hair. "Since you've shown you're not to be trusted," Waino said, "you'll stay away from Susan altogether." "But she likes me the best," Sara protested. "Better than anyone else. And she's as harmless as a baby. As harmless as Elias here. What's wrong with me being alone with her?"

Waino sighed. "Susan's brain may be permanently damaged, she may have no more intelligence than a two-yearold, but she's still a stalker, with stalker instincts. Can you deny she hates shifters?" Sara grimaced. "Cousin Arno scared her. Otherwise she wouldn't have tried to bite him." Waino fixed his pale gaze on Sara. "The rule is that no child is ever to be alone with Susan. You were aware of the rule and deliberately broke it. Since you can't be trusted, you will not visit her again, even with an adult accompanying you." Sara glared defiantly at him. She'd never been an easy child, Jael reflected, even as a baby. Zach's sunny disposition made him a family favorite from the first--not so Sara. Perhaps she'd sought Susan's company because she felt no one else, except for Zach, wanted her around. Dark Sara and golden-haired Zach hardly looked like brother and sister, much less twins, but they'd always been close. "You just wait!" Sara cried. "As soon as I'm eighteen and get my money, I'm leaving Volek House forever." She whirled and ran from the study, Zach trailing after her. Waino looked at Jael and shook his head. She knew the Eastman twins had inherited half their father's estate, the money held in trust until they were eighteen, with their half-brother Oscar Eastman as executor. Oscar had never once visited them, his only acknowledgement of their existence was the yearly financial statements he sent to Ivan, the twins' legal guardian. "Rebellion everywhere," Waino said. "Rebellion and war. I heard on the radio this morning that Russia has sent troops to subjugate Finland. For over one hundred years we Finns bowed our necks to Russian rule. In 1917 the World War set us free. Now, a mere twenty-two years later, another war threatens Finland's freedom. Russians--pah!" Elias slid off Jael's lap, climbed down from the couch and toddled over to Waino, leaning against his leg and smiling up at him. Though for some reason Marti's son mistrusted males, he made an exception for two of them--Bren and his grandfather. "Gr'pop sing!" the boy demanded. Waino picked Elias up and sat him on the desk. "Sing what?" he asked. "Sing lohi," Elias said. The word, Jael had learned, was Finnish for salmon. What Elias requested was the tale of a maiden who turned

herself into a fish rather than marry a man she didn't love. Elias couldn't possibly understand the meaning of the song, in Finn or English, but it was his favorite. Waino cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. He began in Finnish, not quite singing, not quite chanting, but a peculiar combination of the two that always held Jael spellbound even though she understood very little Finn. Elias, sitting on the desk, swayed back and forth in rhythm with his grandfather's cadence. Near the end of the song, when the maiden escapes her unwanted suitor for the second time, Waino switched to English: "Oh, poor old Vainamoinen Poor dim-witted old conjurer You held Aino in your hands In your hands you held the maiden You saw but a giant fish, a salmon Only a salmon for your dinner In the fish that slipped between your fingers Slipped back into the lake's blue water You could not see Joukahainen's sister In the slippery silver salmon Poor dim-witted Vainamoinen Aino will never be your bride." "Lohi, lohi, lohi," Elias chanted after Waino stopped. "Aino, lohi, jarvi, jarvi." Waino, chuckling, nodded at him. "That's right, Aino's the salmon in the lake. What a smart boy you are!" He lifted Elias, hugged him and set him on the floor. Jael beamed at them both. Elias was her heart's joy. Though she'd never forget Marti, caring for the boy had eased the pain of Marti's death. To her relief, Elias seemed to have inherited none of his mother's strange abilities or disabilities. Rhythm--singing, dancing and music--fascinated him. When she practiced with Bren, it amazed her to watch Elias imitate Bren's T'ai Chi Ch'uan movements. Already the child was better than she'd ever be. As she rose and reached for Elias's hand, the gate buzzer rang. Waino flipped a switch and spoke into the house-gate intercom. "Who is it?" he asked. "Your prodigal stepson," came the answer. "Leo!" Waino jumped up and pushed the activating mechanism to open the gates. "Leo's come home," he said as much to himself as to her. "Come home at last." Jael, surprised to find her heart hammering, covered her confusion by picking up Elias. Why on earth should she be

affected by Leo's return? He might have kissed her goodbye all those years ago but the kiss had meant nothing to him. Nothing to her, either. Nothing at all. "Leo," Elias said, trying out the new word. "Leo." "Uncle Leo," she told him, wishing her pulse would stop fluttering so crazily. Jael found herself following Waino as he hurried to the front door, She stopped abruptly. No. She wasn't anyone Leo cared about; it wasn't her place to stand on the steps in welcome--that right belonged to his mother. She climbed the two flights of stairs to the tower room where, she knew, Druse was amusing Susan. Since Susan flew into a tantrum if anyone tried to make her leave the tower, the women took turns spending time with her there. "Leo's home," Jael told Druse. Tears gathered in Druse's eyes even as a smile lit her face. "Leo!" "I'll stay with Susan," Jael told her, handing Elias to Druse. For some reason the child's presence always upset Susan. Susan smiled uncertainly at her after Druse and Elias left. "Leo," she said, much as Elias had earlier. "Leo?" "Leo's your friend, just as I am," Jael assured her. She picked up a piece of drawing paper and pretended to admire the childish scribblings. "What pretty colors." As usual, the paper was covered with every red color in Susan's crayon box, from deep pink to magenta. "Red," Susan chanted. "Red, red, red." She sat crosslegged on the floor, careless of the way her skirt hiked up onto her thighs, and rummaged through the wooden crayon box. Because her brain damage had left Susan with no more sense of modesty than a two-year-old, they'd tried to dress her in slacks but she wouldn't wear them. Nor did she like pajamas. If a garment didn't have a skirt, Susan refused to put it on. Somewhere in her twenties, she'd once been an attractive woman, with even features, glossy dark hair and a generously curved figure. Far prettier than I could ever be, Jael thought. Even now, lacking in wit though she is, Susan's better looking than I. Holding up the stub of a bright red crayon, Susan smiled in triumph. "Red." She grabbed a blank sheet of paper and slashed the crayon back and forth across it. Jael sat on the floor and watched her, thinking of Waino's warning to Sara. Most of the time Susan's behavior

was on a par with Elias's. Was it true something darker lurked underneath her childishness? Jael shook her head. Marti's explosion had maimed Susan permanently. Even if stalker impulses remained in a corner of her shattered mind, Susan lacked the mental capacity to carry them out in any dangerous way. It would have been better for us all, Susan included, she thought, if Marti had killed her. Hearing the door open, Jael started to turn but just then Susan thrust the red-smeared paper at her. "See?" Susan asked brightly. "All dead." With the paper in her hand, Jael swung around. Her breath caught and her mind roiled in confusion at the sight of the man in the doorway. What was Leo doing here when he'd scarcely had time to greet his family? It surely couldn't be because he wanted to see her! Or could it? His scowling gaze slid over her and fixed on Susan. Susan stared at him wide-eyed. Gathering her wits, Jael rose and stammered, "Hello, Leo. Welcome home." "Leo," Susan muttered. "Don't like Leo." "The feeling's mutual," Leo snapped. The harsh tone of his voice alarmed Jael. "Susan's harmless," she said hurriedly. Leo flicked her a bitter glance. "Stalkers are never harmless." Susan got onto her hands and knees and crawled rapidly toward Leo. Remembering this was the way Susan had attacked Arno and belatedly recalling that Leo was a shifter, Jael cried, "Get out, Leo! Now! Hurry!" Watching Susan, he didn't move. "She'll try to bite you," Jael warned, trying to intercept Susan. The woman scuttled away from her, angling toward Leo. Leo smiled thinly, a deadly humorless smile that chilled Jael. His hands clenched and unclenched. She darted between him and Susan, more afraid now for Susan than for him. "No, Susan," she said firmly. "Bad girl." Susan ignored her. Leo shoved Jael aside so roughly she staggered into the wall, watching helplessly as Susan, still on all fours, lunged at him. He swiveled, lashing out with his foot. His kick caught Susan in the side. She screamed in pain as she sprawled on the floor. The door slammed open and Waino hurried in. "Don't be a damn fool, Leo," he warned. "You'll have the servants on the stairs goggling in a minute. Volek House can't stand any more gossip." He laid a hand on Leo's arm.

From the floor, where she crouched by the moaning, weeping Susan, Jael saw Leo shake off Waino's arm. "Either come with me," Waino said coldly, "or I'll call the whole damn tribe to haul you out of here while the servants gawk. Is that what you want?" "I saw him." Leo's voice was so low Jael could barely hear him. "Saw the goddamned stalker bastard kill Quince. Kill my brother." "Harming Susan's like hurting a baby," Waino told him. "And it won't bring Quince back." "Christ, you've even named her." Disgust colored Leo's words. He stared down at Susan for a long moment and then, to Jael's relief, turned and strode from the room. "Bad," Susan sobbed. "Bad Leo." Leo didn't go near the tower room again and, as the weeks passed, the household settled down, absorbing Leo and the two children he'd brought with him into the family. Victor, his son, was a sturdy dark-haired five-year-old and Jody, Quincy's daughter, the same age, was a delicate blonde. Shy at first, the children warmed to Jael after they began practicing T'ai Chi Ch'uan with Bren, her and Elias. "I like it here," Victor told her in late November. "I wasn't sure if I would at first but now I'm glad Leo brought us home." He never called his father anything but Leo and Jael wondered why. Not that it was any of her business. The less she had to do with Leo, the better. Jody, more reserved than Victor, didn't admit she liked it at Volek House until Samara, realizing the girl had a talent for music, began teaching her to play the piano. "Someday we'll be on the radio," Jody confided to Jael just before Christmas. "Me and Vic and Eli, we'll play and sing on Major Bowes and everybody will clap for us." On the day before Christmas, Jennifer and her husband Elton came to visit, bringing Jennifer's twin, Lily, with them. Jennifer, obviously pregnant, refused so much as a sip of the customary Christmas Eve champagne but Lily drank her share and her twin's as well. Before dinner, she cornered Jael in the music room. "I like you," Lily told Jael, her words slightly slurred as she stroked the scars along the left side of her face. "You're not pretty, either. So I'm going to tell you." Jael knew she was no beauty, but she didn't enjoy having it pointed out to her so bluntly. "Maybe we'd better join

the others," she said. Lily put a hand on her arm. "Wait. Want to ask you something. Jenny's no good to ask, but you can understand. There's a man." Jael sighed inwardly. There was always a man. She didn't want Lily to confide in her; Lily wouldn't if she wasn't muzzy from the champagne. "You know how I got these scars?" Lily asked. Without waiting for an answer, she plowed on. "Jennifer did it. She's a firestarter, you know. She got mad at me and set me on fire when we were small." Marti had once intimated something of the sort so Jael wasn't surprised but the bitterness in Lily's voice made her uneasy. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "So'm I. Men don't like women with scarred faces. But Clint's different. Maybe it's 'cause he's scarred worse'n I am. He says I'm beautiful. In all my life no one ever told me that. No one but Clint." Jael tried to find something innocuous to say. An echo was the best she could come up with. "Clint has scars?" "He fought against Franco in Spain till his plane was shot down and they sent him back to the States." Lily smiled dreamily. "Clint's a war hero. He didn't have to fight but he thought it was his duty. Jenny doesn't know about him yet. Don't tell her 'cause he's my secret for now." "I won't," Jael assured her. "Maybe I'll marry him," Lily said. "If he asks me. Do you think he will?" Jael nodded, aware that was the response Lily needed. She could hardly blame Lily. No man had ever called Jael Steinmetz beautiful. If one ever did and she could believe him, she'd probably be as eager to marry him as Lily was to be Clint's wife. But Jael didn't expect any man could find her beautiful. The thought depressed her. "I think I hear the dinner bell," she said. "We'd better go." Later that night Jael helped place the children's presents under the tree in the foyer before she went up to her room. After making certain Elias was asleep in the adjoining bedroom, she lifted a clean cotton flannel nightgown from a dresser drawer and paused, staring down in distaste at the garment. Plain and practical, just like she was. On the outside. Nobody knew about the inner Jael, a woman filled with dreams and longings. She sighed. No one ever would know, either. About to slip into the nightgown,

she paused. No, she wouldn't wear it, not tonight. Wrapped in tissue paper in the bottom drawer was a pair of green silk pajamas Marti had given her three years ago, a present she'd never worn. Green goes with red hair, Marti had insisted. You’ll be gorgeous. Jael smiled sadly. No one would ever take Marti's place in her heart. She unwrapped the pajamas, the soft silk clinging to her fingers, the emerald green shimmering in the lamplight. When she had them on, she gazed at her image in the dresser mirror and shook her head. Gorgeous wasn't the right word. Or even close. On the other hand, she didn't look as ludicrous as she'd feared. She was simply a skinny red-haired woman wearing bright green pajamas. Remembering that matching silk slippers had come with the pajamas, she searched the drawer, found the slippers and slid her feet into them. Whatever she might look like, she had to admit she felt elegant. All dressed up, she thought, with no place to go. Except to bed. Alone. Where she wouldn't sleep. Jael squared her shoulders. To hell with going to bed. She'd go down to the study, find a book and read until dawn. She opened the door, glanced up and down the corridor and frowned. What was Sara doing up at this hour? Almost immediately she realized Sara was heading for the tower stairs. That would never do. Jael hurried after her, catching Sara as her hand turned the knob on the door to the stairs. Sara shrank away. "I wasn't going in the room," she said defensively, brandishing a small wrapped package. "I was just going to open the door a little and leave my present for Susan inside so she'd find it when she woke up." Jael considered. "Why not let me take the present up to the room?" she said. "That way you won't get into trouble and Susan will still find your gift in the morning." "I guess I'll have to." Sara's tone was sullen. She handed Jael the package with ill grace. "Leaving a present for Susan to find is a nice thought, Sara." "I want her to know I'm her friend. But how can I when Cousin Waino won't let me see her?" "I'll speak to him. After all, Christmas is a special day, isn't it?" Sara brightened a little. "I hope he listens to you." "I do, too. Goodnight, Sara."

Jael waited until she was certain Sara meant to return to her room before she opened the tower door and climbed the twisting stairs. Susan slept in the tower because she was terrified to leave the room. Only there did she feel safe. She slept alone because the women had gotten tired of taking turns spending the night in the tower. Druse had tried giving Susan a mild sleeping potion in the evening to make certain she wouldn't wake, find she was alone and be afraid. This worked so well it was done every night. Once she slept, whoever was with her left, bolting the door from the outside so Susan was locked safely in the room until morning. Not a perfect solution, perhaps, but an effective one. At the top of the stairs, Jael reached to pull back the bolt, then stopped, staring. The bolt hadn't been shot, someone must have forgotten. A good thing she'd come up here. It was unlikely Susan would leave the room on her own but not impossible. Jael shuddered to think of her falling down the stairs. Opening the door quietly, Jael started to reach in to leave the present without entering but a muffled sound caught her attention. Was that a sob? Was Susan crying? She eased inside and shut the door. Why was it so dark? Had the night-light burned out? Maybe Susan was crying because she was afraid of the dark. Jael listened to the strange noises coming from across the room where Susan's bed was and suddenly fear swooped down, paralyzing her. Susan didn't sound like that. Something else was in this room. She forced herself to move, to feel along the wall to the right of the door for the light switch. As she flicked it on, Susan gave a muffled, gurgling cry. Leo, naked except for his trousers and the amulet around his neck, stood beside Susan's bed. Susan, her nightgown pulled up so it covered her head, sprawled on her back across the bed. Blood stained the sheet underneath her. Jael ran across the room, pushed Leo aside and freed Susan's face, yanking the nightgown down to her cover her nakedness. Sitting on the bed, she gathered Susan into her arms as she would have a child, cuddling her, speaking soothingly. "Jael's here, Susan. I won't let anyone hurt you. Everything's all right. All right." She concentrated on calming Susan, ignoring Leo completely, refusing to even think of him. At last Susan's sobs diminished, finally even her

sniffling stopped as she sank back into her drug-induced sleep. Jael eased Susan's head onto the pillow, rose and pulled the disarrayed covers into order. Then she turned and looked for Leo, expecting him to be gone. Instead, he was leaning against the wall by the door. With one last glance at the sleeping Susan, she marched across the room until they stood face to face, reached over and opened the door. "Out." He grasped her wrist and yanked her through the door with him, kicking it shut. Jael jerked free of him. "You raped her." Contempt laced her voice. He didn't deny the accusation. "I meant to kill her. I might have if you hadn't shown up." "How brave. First rape, then murder. Of someone who's mentally no more than a child." Leo ran a hand over his forehead. "I got to thinking about how Quince died. I should have saved him." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Do you hear me? It's my fault! I should have been with him." She smelled the whiskey fumes and realized he'd been drinking more than champagne. Careful, she told herself. He's bad enough sober--God only knows what he might do drunk. Her first concern was to get him away from Susan. Hard though it was to put aside her rage and contempt, she forced calmness into her mind and her voice, trying to think of him as nothing but a patient. "Come downstairs with me," she said, coaxing and firm at the same time. "You need to rest." "Rest." His bark of laughter held no amusement. "I haven't rested in years." To her surprise, tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. "I looked and looked, I searched everywhere but I couldn't find the other one. That little bitch Cosette took him. Left me Jody and took him. Rafe, that's his name. Took Rafe. Quince's son. Lost." Jael tried to make sense of this. "You mean Jody has a brother named Rafe?" "Her twin. Lost. I failed." His hands dropped from her shoulders. "Failed Quince all over again." Jael took his arm. "Come with me," she urged, pulling him toward the steps. He didn't resist. Once they reached the corridor, she led him to his room. He simply stood there staring at the door so she opened it, intending to shove him inside, shut the door and hurry back to Susan in the tower.

The tide of darkness caught her unawares. She'd been free of it for so many years that she'd almost forgotten the danger haunting her. "No," she gasped, "Oh, please, no." And then she was engulfed, her mind and will, her very soul swallowed by the shadowy crimson evil.... Leo stared at Jael in consternation as she pushed him inside his room, closed the door and smiled at him. He wished his head was clearer. What the hell was happening? A minute ago he would have sworn she was the same skinny old maid he remembered from the past. But now--now.... Had her hair always been such a glorious auburn? Her green eyes so seductive, her lips so full and inviting? Where had those rich curves come from, the plump breasts and soft flare of hips? And her scent--potent and compelling, driving him wild. He reached for her, he couldn't help himself. The silk of her pajamas slid soft under his fingers but its feel paled in comparison to the wonder of her bare skin as she shrugged off the jacket, then stepped from the pants. He'd never seen such a beautiful woman. Her fingers coaxed his trousers from him until he stood as naked as she. Then she raised her face to him, offering her lips. He kissed her, tasting sweetness mixed with a fire that burned through him, stopping time. Sometimes he knew the bed was under them as they coupled frenziedly, sometimes he thought they lay in the grass under the moon and sometimes he feared she'd taken him to the dark underworld where only shamans dared to go. He was in her, a part of her, he was consumed by her, the flames of hell danced in her eyes, he was afraid of her and yet he couldn't get enough of her.

Chapter 14 Jael opened her eyes and found herself lying on her left side looking at the pale rectangles of the windows. Early morning. She blinked in confusion. Surely those windows

should be on the other side of her bed and, besides, she shut her blinds at night. Behind her on the bed something--my God, someone!-stirred, murmuring inarticulately. A man. Terrified, Jael eased from the bed, shocked to find she was naked. She stood staring in consternation at the sleeping man in the bed. Leo! She'd been in his bed. She was still in his room. How had she gotten here? Bright green caught her eye--her pajamas. She crept around the end of the bed, retrieved the pajamas from the floor and slid into them, frantic to leave before Leo roused. Her hand on the doorknob triggered a brief burst of memory. Night. In the hall. Opening Leo's door. Then darkness, the terrible, evil darkness. Then nothing. Until morning. Until now. She slipped through the door and came face to face with Griselda, who stopped, looking at her curiously. Heat flooded Jael's face--what could she say? How could she explain? "Good morning," Griselda said. "No," Jael blurted in embarrassed humiliation. "I don't think it's a good morning at all." Griselda raised her eyebrows. "It's not what you think," Jael began and paused, remembering what had happened last night before the darkness enveloped her. Susan! She must go to her. "Please," Jael begged Griselda, "would you get Elias up and look after him for awhile? I have to go to the tower." "I'll enjoy taking care of my grandson. But surely you mean to get dressed before--" "No, no, I have to go to Susan first. I'll explain later." Jael ran to the tower stairs. Samara came into the tower room while Jael was bathing Susan. "I thought it was my turn to be with her today," Samara said. Then her glance took in Susan's bloody sheets and nightgown and she frowned. "I would have sworn Susan had her period two weeks ago." Haltingly, then with growing anger, Jael told her what Leo had done to Susan. "Bad Leo," Susan muttered when she heard his name. "Bad, bad." "Yes, I'm afraid he was," Samara said. "But--" She paused and shook her head. "Let me take over, Jael. You need to rest if you've been with Susan all night." Jael was too upset to correct her. Once she reached her own room, Jael hurried into the

bathroom, ran the tub half-full and scrubbed herself until her skin felt raw. She winced at the bruises she found in unexpected places and bit her lip when she washed the soreness between her legs. She might not recall what had had happened but it was all too clear what the evil darkness had forced her to do. With Leo. Since she couldn't put off telling Waino, when she was dressed, with a scarf around her neck to hide what looked like bite-marks on her throat, Jael went to find him. Druse told her that because the sun wasn't out to bother him Waino had gone for a walk on the grounds. "He's probably in the pine grove," Druse added. "Better take an umbrella, it looks like rain." Jael found Waino sitting on a windfall that hadn't yet been cut up for fireplace wood. He nodded when she eased down next to him. "I buried them over there," he said, gesturing. "Where that sapling's growing. I transplanted it to hide the grave." She knew he meant Elias's brothers and closed her eyes for a moment, not wanting to be reminded of those poor little creatures. Waino sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm too old to dig any more graves." Jael cleared her throat. "I made a promise to tell you if the darkness ever came over me again." He straightened, the dark glasses he always wore outdoors hiding his pale eyes so she couldn't be sure of his expression. "I'll start with last night, when I found Leo in the tower room with Susan," she said and went on until she came to waking in Leo's bed in the morning. When she was finished Waino said nothing for a long time. Her anxiety drove her to her feet. She began to pace. He rose and touched her arm to halt her. "I couldn't help what happened," she cried. "Please believe me." "I never doubted you. People can't change their ancestors. I can't. Voleks can't. Neither can you, Jael." She stared at him. "What do you mean?" "I suspected your heritage years ago, when you first mentioned the dark shadow that periodically controlled you. I wondered then if Wolf had been drawn to you by a force he didn't realize was guiding him. After what you've told me just now about you and Leo, I feel certain Wolf didn't make a random choice. Perhaps we'd better sit down again."

After Jael seated herself on the log again, Waino sat next to her and took her hand, studied her palm for a moment and released it before speaking. "Yuba Steinmetz was not your birth mother." His words fell hard and cold on Jael's heart. Were they true? She longed to deny it but all she finally said was, "Who was my mother if Yuba wasn't?" "I believe she was a New York woman with psychic powers and that she was plagued by the same evil spirit who haunts you. Your true mother and you are blood descendants of that dark spirit, otherwise it wouldn't be able to control you so easily." Her throat tightened in fear and she glanced over her shoulder as though expecting to find malevolent shadows lurking under the pines. "But what does this have to do with Wolf finding me?" she asked at last. "If what I believe is true, you are Wolf's daughter by that New York woman." Jael drew in her breath. Wolf's daughter? How could she be? "Wolf died without realizing who you were," Waino went on. "He didn't know the woman had borne his child. In fact, he fervently hoped she hadn't. You see, the spirit tricked both Wolf and the woman into a union neither wanted. It needed a child to further the blood line so it would be able to extend its control to another generation. And, of course, the father had to be a Volek. Because of Sergei." Thoroughly bewildered, Jael shook her head. "I don't understand." "I can only surmise that long ago Sergei Volek crossed a very powerful witch, one who vowed revenge on him and his line forever. Her power still animates her vengeful spirit, a spirit dwelling in the underworld. This evil spirit came close to conquering Wolf on his last shaman journey. When I showed Beth the shaman's path I trembled for her safety but Beth encountered no malevolence--possibly because a female Volek is of no interest to the spirit." "Are you saying this witch's spirit is the darkness that forced me to do its bidding? To free Quincy and to--to lie with Leo?" "Yes. I believe it intends the downfall of the Voleks unto the last generation." "But I won't live forever. It can't--" Jael broke off, her hand covering her mouth. "Oh my God!" Waino nodded. "So now you understand the reason you and Leo were forced to mate."

"I won't!" she cried. "I refuse!" Waino shrugged. "In the end, one way or another, I fear you will. If not this time, then another." Jael shuddered, knowing she had no control over her actions once the darkness enveloped her. The thought of being forced into Leo's bed again turned her stomach. "We can arrange a marriage between you and--" Waino began. "No! Never!" "Whatever you wish. We'll hope that because you as well as Leo carry Volek blood the witch's influence over the child may be weakened. After all, Voleks have survived for many centuries." For whatever comfort that is, she thought sourly. "Try not to blame Leo too much," Waino added. "He was as driven as you." "Not when he raped Susan. I can never forgive him for that." "Maybe not. But I can understand his hatred of her. Stalkers murdered his grandfather, his father and the one he loved best in all the world, his brother." "Why must there be stalkers?" she cried. "Or shifters?" "To learn the answer, Voleks must return to their beginnings. But it seems every time one tries to reach Russia, he's prevented. Perhaps the Voleks have to learn more about themselves and about stalkers before going to the home of their ancestors, perhaps the Volek who will reach the source hasn't yet been born." After lunch, while Elias napped, Jael took the opportunity to lie down on her own bed. She fell asleep. Greenery surrounded her, she was in an alien forest where all the trees welcomed her. “We will tell you,” they murmured. “Because you are a Volek we will show you the path to knowledge.” Leafy branches bent down, urging her to climb onto them and be lifted into the heart of the oldest tree where lay the secret of the earth. Before she could obey, the greenness was smeared with blood-red and a crimson-robed witch sprang up where the branches had been, a cowl hiding her head and face. “You are mine, forever mine,” the witch whispered. “Earth knowledge is not for you, never for you. Or any Volek. The Voleks will never learn why, all their attempts have been in vain. Will be in vain. Forever.” “No!” Jael tried to cry. She couldn’t speak. Sinister laughter echoed in Jael’s ears as she fought to free

herself from the witch’s control. When the witch threw back her cowl, Jael cringed from the grimacing skull. A red-headed woodpecker flew from one of the eyesockets and flew into a blood-smeared tree, the oldest tree, where it pecked ferociously at the trunk. Jael watched in helpless horror, knowing the bird would destroy the tree’s heart and the secret knowledge within, dooming the Voleks forever…… She woke with a start, her heart racing and found herself in her room. Someone was knocking at her door. Still half in the dream, she stumbled from the bed, opened the door and drew in her breath. "I'm returning your slippers," Leo said, handing them to her. For a moment she gaped at him, unable to understand. Then reason returned. She took the slippers wordlessly and started to close the door. He edged into the opening and entered her room. "We need to talk." Jael shook her head and backed away from him until she came up against her bed. "For Christ sake, woman," he growled, "I'm not going to hurt you. Sit down and listen." She perched stiffly on the edge of the bed. "As a rule I steer clear of alcohol," he said. "Yesterday I broke that rule. I'm sure you find that no excuse but it happens to be the reason I lost control. I'll always hate that stalker female in the tower but if I hadn't been drinking I'd have stayed away from her." When Jael said nothing, he strode to her, grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. "Do you understand?" Jael swallowed, her heart pounding in fear mixed with an emotion she didn't dare identify. "I understand," she managed to say, "but that doesn't mean I approve of what you did." He smiled one-sidedly. "To the stalker, you mean?" How she hated him! "I know I was in your bed," she snapped, "only because I woke up there. Whether you believe me or not, I don't recall any--any details." He released her, his eyes narrowing. "If it weren't for finding those damn green slippers of yours I'd have trouble believing it was you in my bed." What had the witch made him see? she wondered, pushing aside the thought of how wantonly she might have unknowingly behaved. "According to Waino we were both forced into bed together. If you want more of an explanation, you'll have to

speak to him. Please don't come to my room again." "I have the feeling I'm missing something important," he said. "That we both are." She shook her head. "Just get out." He stared at her, reaching to touch a curl of her hair. "Red," he said, seemingly to himself. "And your eyes are green. But--" He broke off, sighed, then turned on his heel and left. Bear his child? she thought, slamming the door shut behind him. Bear Leo's child? She hoped it wouldn't happen, doing her best to convince herself the idea filled her with nothing but revulsion. Jael delivered a red-haired daughter on August 15, 1940, and called her Yuba after the only mother she'd ever known. Two days later Susan bore a son. Griselda insisted on naming him Daniel. Both children were given the Volek surname and both seemed normal. Because Susan was incapable of even understanding she had a baby, Jael nursed Daniel as well as her own child. Griselda helped her with the boy, taking over his entire care once he was switched to bottle feedings. "His mother killed my son," Griselda said. "It's only fair that she give me her son in return." In December of 1941, when the babies were eighteen months old, Griselda decided that this Christmas must be for Daniel and Yuba. A happy Christmas. "Volek House has seen too many sad times," she told Jael on the morning of the seventh. "I hope they're over. On Christmas day I intend to unveil my crystal and look into the future; I've kept it covered ever since I came to live here. Do you know, before I met him, I asked the crystal to show me my lover and I saw Arno in it? I couldn't understand why there seemed to be two of him and I became confused when I met Ivan first because I wasn't in love with him." She smiled in reminiscence. "Poor Ivan, he was even more confused for awhile." Knowing Griselda's origin, Jael asked, "Was that in Germany?" "No, in France. During the World War. Arno was in the ambulance corps and Ivan was a soldier." She sighed. "I keep forgetting that because of all the fighting going on in Europe these days, my war now has to be called the first World War." Before noon, Arno came dashing into the foyer, where Griselda, Jael and the older children were sorting through

boxes of decorations from Christmases past. "The Japs attacked Pearl Harbor!" he cried. "They've attacked us, damn it! Come and listen to the radio." Nicholas flew in the next morning with Reynolds, landing at the small family airfield near the grounds. "I have an announcement," Nicholas said after dinner, as soon as the servants had left for the night. Beth and Bren were amusing the children in the downstairs playroom but the adults, Jael included, were still gathered around the dining room table. "Really we have an announcement," Nicholas amended. "Rey and I are enlisting." Arno's fist crashed down on the table, rattling the spoons and coffee cups. "No! Not you, Reynolds! War is dangerous, war is hell--for any man--but a hundred times more so for a shifter. I ought to know; I spent the worst night of my life in a no-man's-land trench in France fighting the urge to shift because shifting meant certain death. I came damn close to losing." "I was thinking of the OSS," Reynolds said mildly. "They ought to be able to find a niche for me--after all, my own brother accuses me of being a sneaky SOB." "That's because Rey talked to some general in Washington about getting into the OSS even before the attack on Hawaii yesterday," Nicholas said, grinning at his brother. "He's as good as in and he didn't say a word to me until I told him last night that I was going to try for the Army Air Corps. I suspect he meant to sneak off without so much as a goodbye." Arno shook his head. "The OSS puts men in damn dangerous situations." Reynolds' fingers touched his amulet, hidden under his shirt. "Sowilo's kept me safe ever since my first shifting. Don't worry, Arno, I'll get by okay." Jael knew Sowilo was the rune etched onto Reynolds' amulet. She didn't understand the meaning of any of the runes but Waino had assured her they were very powerful symbols if each rune was matched correctly to the person wearing it. That person must also believe implicitly in the rune's power. Without meaning to, without wishing to, she glanced at Leo and saw, in her mind's eye, his naked chest with his rune-etched amulet nestled between his male nipples. Ashamed of the warmth gathering deep within her, she bit her lip. She hated the man, why did these mental images of him persist? Leo half-rose, reached across the table and grasped

Reynolds' hand. "Good luck, Rey," he said. "I hope you're right about getting by." "We'd best damn well pray he is," Arno muttered. "You'd do better to worry about Nick flying around up there at thirty thousand feet," Reynolds said. Eighteen months later, his brother's words came back to Nicholas on the night of August first as he flew with his six crew members at ten thousand feet over the English Channel, heading for Germany in a B-17 with a belly full of bombs, fifth in the formation of eighteen Fortresses. He chuckled, thinking how rarely he took old Rockin' Ruby up to thirty thousand feet. "Bomber's moon tonight," Hank, his co-pilot said over the intercom link, waving a hand at the bright glow of the full moon. "Trouble is, that makes it a flak and fighter's moon, too." And a shifter's moon, if you're a Volek, Nicholas thought, wondering where Rey was tonight. The last he'd seen his younger brother, two months ago, Rey was getting ready to parachute into France on a mission so damn secret he couldn't talk about it. But the moon wouldn't bother him, unlike poor old Quincy, Rey never did have much of a problem with his shifting. "I hardly ever think about it," Rey had told him the last time he asked. "Not even when the moon's full. Maybe it's like having a low blood count--I've got a low beast urge." Shifters attracted the best-looking girls, though, no doubt about that. Rey, quiet as he was, had girls falling all over him. Nicholas couldn't really complain, since he benefitted by the overflow. There were always plenty of girls. As for himself, he'd always liked the moon. Sometimes he imagined he could feel its silver rays piercing his skin and penetrating to his bones, fizzing like champagne through him, making him drunk on moonlight. Lucky he wasn't a shifter, chances were he'd have a high beast urge. "Flying over the Black Forest tonight," Bos, the navigator, said. "Better take Rockin' Ruby up high enough so the ghosties and ghoulies that hang out there don't get us." "Mother always told me I'd regret not going to Harvard," Hank said. "They never taught me about the Black Forest at Penn State." "And you're a better man for it," Optie, the rear gunner put in.

"Schwarzwald," Bos said. "Black Forest. The very sound curdles the blood." "You curdle mine," Hank told him. "The last thing we need is some crazy German hex." "I thought hex stuff was Dutch," Optie said. "Pennsylvania Dutch," Hank told him. "They're German." "Yeah?" Optie sounded skeptical. "My grandma was one of them," Hank admitted. "When I was a kid she filled me full of superstitious junk till ma caught on and made her stop." "Give me a for instance," Optie challenged. "Okay, try this next time a girl turns you down. Mind you, this isn't exactly grandma's version. Prick your left little finger and put a drop of your blood in the gal's drink. The next prick you feel will be her grabbing yours." "Hey, all right," Optie said. "That's one of the good ones," Hank went on. "Most are bad omens you have to watch out for--funny how that stuff sticks in the mind. To this day if I lose a button when I'm putting on a shirt in the morning I can't shake the feeling the whole fucking day'll go wrong." "Shit!" Optie's exclamation was heartfelt. "Why'd you have to go and tell me about losing a button? I popped one when I got dressed tonight." There was a long silence. Nicholas shrugged away the chill that momentarily raised the hair on his nape. Shamans like Cousin Waino might have the ability to cast stones and read omens in the patterns that formed but losing a button off a shirt had nothing to do with omens. "Optie," he said, "you better make damn sure when you put your drop of blood in some babe's drink that she knows how to sew on buttons." The crew laughed a little too hard at his mild ribbing, a sign they were all on edge. Why the hell shouldn't they be? They might call Rockin' Ruby their delivery wagon but it damn well wasn't milk they were toting to Stuttgart tonight. Tension rose in Nicholas when the squadron leader warned they were nearing their target. It had been too easy so far. Nothing's going to go wrong, he told himself. Just because it usually wasn't, why shouldn't it be a piece of cake all the way? Despite his uneasiness and the probing searchlights, Rockin' Ruby's bombardier dropped her load over Stuttgart without interference. Nicholas started to circle to get back on course with flak bursting underneath the plane in bright, deadly explosions.

"Messer at three o'clock," Optie said tersely. "Gonna get the bastard." Before Nicholas was halfway into the turn he felt Rockin' Ruby shudder. "Enemy at ten o'clock," Mac, the second gunner, reported. Rocking' Ruby lived up to her name, dropping jarringly. We're hit bad, Nicholas thought, dimly conscious as he fought to regain control of the plane of the maintenance crewman frantically adjusting dials. "Power loss." Hank's voice was grim. Nicholas hadn't completed the turn that would get them back on the course home. "Where are we?" he asked Bos. "Near as I can tell, heading for the Black Forest." They were still losing altitude. Nicholas clenched his teeth, fighting to keep the plane in a shallow glide away from the city. When it became obvious to him they weren't going to regain power he ordered the fuel tanks jettisoned. If he was lucky enough to hit farm land they might stand a chance of walking away from a crash landing but he couldn't be sure what the hell the plane would hit. Trees weren't good. He'd give it a try but he was damned if he'd risk the crew. Using the chutes they stood a fair chance of getting down alive, though they'd sure as hell be taken prisoner. "We're going down," he told them. "Flak's behind us-prepare to jump before we get too low." "Goddamned button," Optie muttered. One by one they called out their names before they jumped. All except the navigator. The pilot had the authority to order the crew to jump but each man had the right to choose to remain aboard. "You still here, Bos?" Nicholas asked. "So far so good," Bos told him. "Keep her nose up while I look for a clearing." "You're a damn fool." "Makes two of us. But don't worry, I'm a survivor. I have every intention of getting home to write my great war story." Hours seemed to pass as Nicholas struggled to keep the plane from diving, from plunging nose first into the ground and killing them both. "Just a little longer, Ruby, baby," he muttered. "Take it slow and easy, that's a good girl." "Nothing but fucking trees as far as I can see," Bos reported. Suddenly the moon was gone, there was only darkness ahead. Metal crumpled, crunching, he heard Bos swear, the

plane jolted, bounced, and finally slammed onto the ground. Nicholas roused to darkness and the sound of water dripping. His head hurt like hell and he couldn't for the life of him figure out where he was. He stared at a thin shaft of silver light to his left and slowly comprehended he was looking at moonlight. Bomber's moon. The plane. Flak. Crash. The truth shot through him. They were down. Behind enemy lines. He tried to move and found his left leg pinned. Fear gnawed at him as he smelled gasoline and realized the dripping wasn't water but what was left of the fuel. If he didn't get out of here he'd be roasted alive when she went up. Where was Bos? Was he all right? He tried to call to him but found he couldn't. Putting a hand to his face he felt the sticky wetness of blood. Head wound? He yanked at his leg and gasped at the pain slicing through him. He was trapped. Facing death. He was helpless. No! He was a Volek; Voleks never gave up. The broken plane shifted, settling and the sliver of moonlight moved, shining directly on his face. He stared through the rent in the canopy and reached with all his being for the brightness of the moon.

Chapter 15 Bos struggled to his feet, amazed to find himself on the ground, still in one piece. Must have blacked out, he thought dazedly. Groggy, he leaned against a pine trunk and looked around. The bright moonlight showed him the smashed plane some twenty feet away--he'd evidently been thrown clear on impact. Damned if he remembered; the last thing he recalled was telling Nick he saw nothing but trees ahead. Where was Nick? Bos shouted for him. No answer. Christ, could Nick still be inside the plane? Bos pushed away from the tree and stumbled toward the wreck calling Nick's name, the stink of gasoline strong in his nostrils. He'd gone only a few feet when he saw a dark

figure climbing from the wreckage onto a smashed wing. Thank God! "Here I am, Nick," he yelled. The figure turned toward him and Bos froze in position, blinking to clear his vision. Did he see a muzzle? Fur? The figure leaped from the crumpled wing, landed on all fours and snarled at him. Bos inched backwards. What the hell was he looking at? It sure wasn't Nick and yet he would have sworn the thing climbed out of the plane. When it rose on its hind feet, lifted its muzzle to the moon and howled, panic drove Bos into full retreat. He ran as fast as he could, momentarily expecting to be overtaken and savaged by the beast. As he tripped over a root and sprawled onto brown pine needles, the sky lit up, he heard a deafening roar and a blast of heat rushed over him. Scrambling to his feet, he looked back. Flames rose high--the plane was burning. The beast was nowhere in sight. Realizing the flames would bring the local Nazis running, he took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. Whatever the creature was, it hadn't run him down. In fact the beast had done him a favor by chasing him away from the wreckage before the gas exploded. As for poor old Nick--chances were he'd never gotten out of the plane. It didn't make sense to go back and look for a dead man. If Nick had died bringing them down safely, he owed it to Nick as much as to himself to escape the Germans. And he damn well would! He was a navigator, wasn't he? He had maps in his pocket, didn't he? Though he was behind enemy lines, Switzerland wasn't so far as to be impossible to reach. If he couldn't make Switzerland, he certainly ought to be able to reach France. True, France was occupied by the damn Nazis but he'd have the chance to contact the resistance for help in getting back to England. Studying the maps by the light of the fire, Bos calculated the plane's position when it crashed. Finally he nodded. When he got far enough from the fire to see them clearly, he'd check his direction by the stars but meanwhile he thought he knew which way to go. He'd recovered enough, despite his bruises, so he was able to hike purposefully but the image of the beast haunted him, making him glance apprehensively over his shoulder. What was it? Not a wolf. Not a bear. Some kind of monster he'd never before seen. But nothing he'd ever read about the Black Forest mentioned strange beasts. Besides, the beast had come from inside the plane.

What was he to believe, then? That a beast had been hiding in the cramped quarters of the B-17 ever since they left England? Or that Nick had somehow changed into a beast? Bos shook his head. Preposterous! He couldn't believe in either possibility. And yet he was almost sure he hadn't been hallucinating. If he didn't start moving the locals would take him prisoner. Shelve the beast mystery, Bosworth, he told himself, and concentrate on getting the hell out of here. With luck he'd make it over the mountains into Switzerland. Or, at the worst, France. Even occupied, France was preferable to Germany. He spoke fair German so once he found a change of clothes he might be able to pass for a native if anyone challenged him before he crossed the border. Assuming the beast didn't kill him first. The beast loped between the pines, fleeing the foul stench of the smoke rising from the burning plane. Away from the human who'd fled from him, as well. He knew he must avoid humans. They weren't prey and they were dangerous. His head no longer ached and, though his left leg still hurt, he realized it was healing rapidly. A vague feeling troubled him; he seemed to recall being in a plane. Had he always been a beast? The thought vanished as the pines closed around him and bloodlust began to sing through him. Free! He was free at last, running through the woods with the moon bright overhead. When he was far enough from the smoke to follow the forest scents clearly, he'd hunt. Excitement rose in him. Hunt under the moon. Forever. By the time he picked up deer scent his leg had ceased to throb. He followed the scent, slowing, puzzled and upset, when human scent began to overlay it. More than one human, he found as he went on cautiously. He would have veered away completely but another smell, the hot blood of a fresh deer kill, enticed him, banishing prudence as it flooded his mind with redness. Many humans. Twelve. No, thirteen, one separate from the rest, this one mixed with the blood and deer scent. He trailed the single human until he caught sight of an antlered head rising arrogantly between the trees. He stopped abruptly. What was he seeing? The body of the deer, dead beyond a doubt, lay on the ground by the feet of the being cloaked in deerskin, a being with the head and horns of a deer. The hair rose on the beast's ruff as the thing stooped and yanked an arrow from the deer's chest. He didn't like

what he saw, didn't trust the mingled scent of deer and human. Despite the deer hair and horns, he was sure the being standing in the moonlight was a human male. A human who'd killed the prey the beast had marked for his own. He snarled his anger. The man dressed as a deer whirled to face him, then bent to grasp the bow and quiver of arrows at his feet. Realizing the man meant to kill him, the beast leaped at him, knocking him to the ground. Unable to control his rage, his fangs sliced through the deer skin and tore out the man's throat. Once he was certain the man was dead, he leaped away from his kill, shaking his head at the bitter taste of human blood fouling his mouth. He wanted no part of human flesh. Yet at the same time the tang of blood excited him, blurring his mind, clouding his judgement, making him eager to tear chunks of bloody meat from the deer's carcass. No, he told himself, there are other humans nearby. Leave the deer. Hunt down another. He rose onto his back legs, fighting the urge to slake his bloodlust with the deer. He turned his back on temptation and slipped between the trees only to be brought up short before he'd gone more than ten feet by the heavy, alluring scent of a female. Human female, he warned himself. Not your kind. No proper mate. But he was drawn toward her all the same, creeping forward until he glimpsed a human female, naked in the moonlight, wearing a silver crescent on her head. When she saw him she drew in her breath, her eyes glittering brightly. She spoke to him and he didn't understand her words but her gestures told him she wished him to come with her. What did she want? Why wasn't she afraid of him as the two human males had been? As he hesitated, her voice began to plead and her gesturing grew more urgent. The mating urge rose in him, thick and hot, compelling him to follow, even though he realized immediately that she was leading him toward the other humans. Eleven. All females. All naked. They were sitting cross-legged in a clearing around a small circle of glittering stones. They acted no more afraid of him than she did. The crescent-crowned female stepped into the circle and lifted two goblets from the ground. Raising her arms she held the goblets high as though offering them to the moon. Her chant coaxed him into the circle and wound around him like a silken rope. The moon, the moon, she seemed to say. The moon is all.

Unable to prevent himself, he threw back his head and howled his own paean to the moon. As chant and howl mingled, becoming one, a strange compulsion gripped him. The crescent-crowned one was the moon; she must be obeyed. He watched her when she lowered the goblets and set one on the ground in front of him, watched her while she raised the other to her lips and drained it. Understanding what he must do, he dropped to all fours and lapped the liquid from the goblet on the ground, feeling his mouth washed clean of the unpleasant after-taste of human blood. Gradually a pleasant lethargy crept over him, slowing his movements. At the same time, he felt all-powerful. While those outside the circle chanted soft and low, she knelt before him, holding out her arms in offering. Offering herself. The mating urge had never left him but its edge had muted. He no longer wanted to sink his talons into her flesh, to hold her in place with his fangs while he mounted her fiercely. This was no casual mating. They were within the circle, male and female, binding themselves to one another and to the moon. As gently as he could, he grasped her with his taloned paws, turning her rounded buttocks toward him until she was in the proper position for mating. He mounted her slowly, easing inside her softness and heat as slowly as he could. He was large, she was small and he found it difficult to penetrate her but she helped him, wriggling back against him until at last the barrier that held him at bay was breached. As he plunged deep inside her, he was dimly aware the chanting outside the circle grew louder and faster, matching his rhythm as he thrust within her, lost in the driving need for fulfillment. But even at the height of his urgency he remembered not to use talons or fangs. When it was over, he collapsed on the ground beside her. As he rested a whisper in his head warned him he must escape these humans, must flee into the woods and hide himself from them. Humans, female as well as male, were dangerous. He tried to get onto all fours but she, lying next to him, touched his shoulder with her delicate fingers and he subsided, grim knowledge seeping through him. He was truly bound to her. Not merely during the mating but now. Forever. He could never harm her and, unless she ordered him to, he couldn't leave her side. "They're bringing a man in, sir," Pierre said. "He was passed on to the underground by a Rhine fisherman. Claims to be an American pilot. But the fisherman says he spoke German

at first. We thought you ought to take a look at him so we can decide who and what he really is." Reynolds nodded. "I'll see him." While he waited, he arranged the room for interrogation, bright light on the visitor's chair, the rest of the room in semi-darkness, himself hardly more than a dark figure behind the desk. When the door opened, he regarded the tall and slender fair-haired man with interest. "Sit down," he ordered, speaking in English. When the man obeyed, he said, "Who are you and how did you get into France?" "First Lieutenant Alan Bosworth, sir," the man said, squinting against the brightness of the light. Reynolds noted a regional accent to the man's English. New England, he thought. But spies could be very clever, as he'd discovered. He waited. The lieutenant, if that's what he was, cleared his throat. "They told me you were American, sir. Are you?" Reynolds raised his eyebrows. "I'm asking the questions." "If I'm going to give more than my name, rank and serial number, I have to be sure." "It seems to me the burden of the proof's on you. You're not in uniform or wearing dogtags." "I didn't want to take a chance on winding up in some stalag so I latched onto civilian clothes as quick as I could --stole them off a clothes line. Then I buried everything that could identify me as American." Reynolds sat watching him, not speaking. The man sighed. "Okay, I'll take a chance. What choice do I have? The underground won't help me unless you vouch for me, right?" Reynolds' nod was curt. "I was a navigator on a B-17 based in England. On August first my squadron flew a night bombing run on Stuttgart and a couple of Messers knocked out Rockin' Ruby. The crew jumped except for the pilot and me--we rode her down until she crashed somewhere in the Black Forest." Reynolds sat forward abruptly. "Rockin' Ruby?" "That's what we called her." "Who was your pilot?" The man frowned at him. "Nick. Captain Nicholas Volek." Reynolds gritted his teeth. "What happened to him?" "To Nick? I wish I knew. I was thrown clear when she slammed into the ground. I don't think Nick was. Then she

went up in flames. He must have been trapped inside. But--" His words trailed off. Nick dead? Reynolds didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't believe it. Returning his attention to the lieutenant, he snapped, "You were about to add something. What was it?" "You'll think I'm a Section 8 case." "Damn it, man, tell me!" "Just before the wreck caught fire, I thought I saw some kind of a beast climb out and jump off the wing." The lieutenant stared defiantly at him. "I even thought it growled at me." Reynolds hung onto enough control so he rose slowly to his feet instead of leaping up abruptly. He forced a disinterested calm into his voice. "What kind of a beast?" "Like nothing I ever saw before or care to see again. Scared the shit out of me." "Why do you say you think you saw it?" The lieutenant's eyes narrowed. "Stands to reason there couldn't have been a beast, doesn't it? Reynolds blinked, thinking fast. "If you did see an animal, possibly it was a bear or something else native to the Black Forest disturbed by the crash. You could have been mistaken about it crawling from inside the wreckage." "Maybe." The lieutenant's tone was cautious. "But it wasn't a bear because bears don't howl. This thing did. And I heard the howling again later that night. Far away, thank God." "Let's forget about the beast--it's not important, lieutenant. You are. We'll do the best we can to get you back to England as soon as possible." Bosworth sighed. "Then you do believe me." He relaxed in his chair. "As to who you are, yes. The beast--" Reynolds shrugged. He shifted the focus of the lamp shining on Bosworth, walked around the desk and held out his hand. When Bosworth rose and shook hands with him, Reynolds hoped the beard and mustache concealed his resemblance to Nick. No one here knew his real name and he had no intention of telling it to Bosworth. "Thank you, sir," Bosworth said. "Glad I could be of help." Reynolds walked with him to the door, shut it behind him and leaned against it. Nick. The beast. Was it possible? Their father had believed Nick wasn't a shifter, not even a latent one as their mother had been. Still, they'd inherited shifter blood

from both parents. Voleks tended to survive, no matter what the cost and, judging from what Bosworth had said, Nick must have had to shift or die. Where was he now? Had he shifted back to wander, naked and confused, in the Black Forest? Or worse, was he already a German prisoner? Reynolds clenched his fists. He had no choice but to slip across the Rhine and search for his brother. After he boned up on the Black Forest. It took his resistance group two days to find a Frenchman they trusted who'd lived in the forest. By that time Bosworth was gone, passed along to another group trained in slipping English and American airmen across the channel. Reynolds wondered how many times the lieutenant would repeat the beast story. Still, who except a Volek would believe such a tale? A Volek or a stalker. A cold chill ran along his spine. Not because he worried about a stalker hunting Nick in the Black Forest but because Bosworth could attach the Volek name to the beast if he did tell about it. Reynolds shook his head. Plenty of time to worry about that problem after the war. Finding Nick was the issue at hand. Reynolds invited Guy LeGuin into his office, offered him a cup of coffee and a package of Lucky Strikes before settling back into his desk chair. "Monsieur LeGuin, my friends tell me you used to live across the Rhine before the war," he said. "We think an American plane went down in the Black Forest, southwest of Stuttgart. I'm interested in anything you can tell me about that area of the forest." Guy opened the pack, took out a cigarette and smelled it appreciatively before lighting it. "Ah," he said after taking a long puff. "As I recall, the country in that part is very high, very heavily wooded. Mostly pine forest, you understand, with few roads." Reynolds nodded encouragingly. "Men who know how to hunt game for food might survive hiding out there without being caught by the Boche," Guy continued. "Especially now, in August. Except for the witches, it would be quite safe." Reynolds raised an eyebrow. "Witches?" Guy waved a hand. "Me, I don't know what is true and what is not but I will tell you what I can. It may be you've heard of those the Boche call--so as not to offend them--'the good ladies of the night.' They're half-women, half-beasts who follow the huntress Gertha in the Wilde Jagd, the Wild Hunt. Death, raw and vicious, follows in their wake. But

they hunt only in the cold months. In the summer, it is said, these demons change into witches who haunt the wildest parts of the forest." "Did you ever see these so-called witches?" Guy shrugged. "Whether I believe in them or not, I believe a man can't be too careful. When I lived in the area I took care not to look for them." Reynolds slid a map across the desk. "Note the X. That's where we think the plane crashed. If you were an airman grounded in enemy territory and wished to hide from the Germans, where would you go?" The Frenchman studied the map for a moment and then his finger moved slowly away from the X, tracing a southwesterly route. "Here and here are the high wooded places, best for concealment. Few people brave these spots since they are hard to reach. And also, you understand, because of the witches." He lit another cigarette from the butt of the first, watching Reynolds carefully. "I notice you don't laugh at my warning of witches, n’est ce pas?” Reynolds smiled thinly. "I never laugh at what I don't understand, no matter how strange. Who knows, it might be true." Guy nodded sagely. "A man of wisdom." "Have you heard what it is the witches do in the summer when they're not hunting?" "Me, I don't know for certain but one supposes they cast malignant spells as witches do everywhere, spells to ensnare and bedevil the innocent." Reynolds asked a few more questions about possible safe crossings over the Rhine, then thanked Guy and saw him to the door. "Remember," Guy said, pausing on the threshold, "that Gertha herself controls the witches and, winter or summer, the urge to hunt remains in Gertha's blood." The beast also loves to hunt, Reynolds thought as he closed the door. His fingers stroked the amulet hidden under his shirt. Beasts like the one I refuse to be. During the last week in August, Reynolds, wearing clothes he'd been assured would pass as ordinary in Germany, slipped across the Rhine at dark onto a wild and overgrown shore. He'd studied the maps so thoroughly he felt entirely sure of his bearings. Almost immediately he began to climb. When he was well hidden among the pines, he settled himself under a tree and waited for the waxing moon to rise high enough to cast sufficient light for him to travel easily.

He might be on a fool's errand; his brother might be long gone from the Black Forest. But he had to make the search himself, search until he was sure Nick wasn't wandering in this alien woods, lost and helpless. True, Bosworth had made his way to the Rhine and crossed it into France but Bosworth had his navigator's maps with him and his navigator's training to guide him. And Bosworth hadn't shifted into a beast under the full moon. God, poor Nick--all alone in enemy territory with no clue to what was happening to him. One shifting experience had been more than enough for Reynolds and he'd had his father, Waino and Arno to counsel him afterward. After he joined the OSS he'd been taught enough of languages so he got along pretty well in French, German and Italian but his brother spoke only English and the smattering of Russian and French they'd picked up from their father and mother. If Nick ever needed his help he needed it now. How good it felt to be among the pines again. Their aromatic fragrance reminded him of childhood camping trips with his father and brother and Hawk. With Leo and Quince. So long ago. Before Hawk's death. Before a stalker had murdered his father and Quince. Of those three, only Hawk had died in the way a man might choose. If he survived the war, would his own death be at a stalker's hands? Don't be morbid, he warned himself. On your feet, get going, how much more moonlight do you need? When he heard the distant beat of a drum, the position of the moon told him it was after midnight. He'd been climbing steadily for several hours, hampered by the poor light. He halted, turning a fraction at a time and stopping to listen until he was certain he'd separated the sound of the beats from their faint echo. Choosing his path carefully, he did his best to move quietly toward the source, at the same time catching a trace of smoke on the night breeze. Gradually the drum grew louder and finally he saw the gleam of a small fire between the trees. Since the smell of the smoke, now mixed with the mouth-watering scent of roasting venison, was so strong, he thought he must be safely downwind from the drummer and the fire. He wished he knew if that made any difference. Waino was a noita, a Finnish witch, so he could hardly doubt witches existed. Since he wasn't sure about Black Forest witches, it was safer to assume they were as real as Waino. And yet, talented as Waino was, he wouldn't

necessarily be aware of someone creeping up on him. Cheered by the thought, Reynolds advanced with more confidence. He stopped while still in the shadow of the pines, well back from the fire, counting the white-robed and hooded figures standing in a circle between him and the fire. Eleven. The drummer was crouched inside the circle so he wasn't able to get a good look at him. Or her. If Guy's tales had even approached the truth, all the hooded figures and the drummer should be women. Something else was in the circle with the drummer, lying at her feet. Something large and dark and, he thought, furcovered. Could it be? His heart leaped with both hope and fear. He might have found Nick but he'd never really believed what he'd meet would be his brother's shifted shape. If it was Nick, how in hell could he communicate with a beast? Sliding a hand up his chest, Reynolds eased open the first three buttons of his shirt, freeing the amulet. His forefinger traced the rune Sowilo as he watched the chanting white-robed figures. All had both hands raised at an angle over the drummer and the beast in the center of the circle. Their voices were too low for him to make out any words, so he inched closer. The drumming gradually increased in volume and rhythm, rising to a crescendo and then ceasing abruptly. The chanters stopped as well. For a long moment the night was completely silent. Then a faint humming, more felt than heard, tingled along Reynolds' nerves. He felt as though an electric charge had passed through him, leaving every hair on his body erect. "I am the source," the woman inside the circle cried in German. "I am the source and the power. The power rests within me. Within me lies the power of life. I hold life in my hands. With my hand I touch my dark companion. I command he who walks in darkness. The beast is bound to me. Rise, oh darkness." Reynolds saw the beast rise to his feet, first all four, then his back legs. Standing like a man, he towered over the women of the circle. His muzzle pointed directly toward Reynolds and his lips drew back over his fangs in a silent snarl. Reynolds froze, careful not to move a muscle, certain now the beast was his brother and also aware the beast sensed his presence. He gripped the amulet, waiting. The circle opened, the woman inside stepped past the others with the beast at her side. Bound to her as she'd said? Bound by what Guy had dubbed malignant witchcraft? He didn't know shit about witchcraft. With all his heart,

Reynolds wished Waino was here beside him. The woman halted, her eyes, glittering in the moonlight, fixing on Reynolds, hidden though he was in the shadows. Her arm raised, she pointed. "Kill the intruder," she commanded. The beast snarled, dropped to all fours and leaped toward him. Reynolds yanked off the thong holding the amulet and, in a desperate lunge, flung it over the head of the beast. "Nick!" he shouted. "I'm your brother!" The force of the beast's charge knocked Reynolds to the ground. He stared up at white fangs inches above his throat and knew he'd lost.

Chapter 16 "Brudder? " a woman's voice demanded. "Brudder?" With the full weight of the beast pinning him to the ground, Reynolds could barely gasp, "Ja, brudder." As he said the words, the beast slid off him, sprawling sideways onto the ground where he writhed in pain. "Was ist los?” the woman cried. Reynolds got to his knees, bending over the beast, relieved that the amulet had worked. "He's shifting shape," he told her in German. "It hurts him." Moments later, he eased an arm under his moaning brother's head, murmuring, "Take it easy, Nick. You're almost there." Nick blinked up at him. "Rey?" he mumbled. "Rey?" He looked down at his nakedness. "What the hell--?" Reynolds helped him sit up. "You shifted, Nick." All the women edged closer to stare at the beast who had turned into a man. Reynolds peeled off his shirt and handed it to his bewildered and embarrassed brother who tied the sleeves around his waist before he got to his feet, using the shirt as a concealing apron. "Do you see?" the woman drummer asked the others in German. "It is as I predicted. He is the one we have waited

for, the One Who Changes." "Where am I?" Nick asked Reynolds. "What the hell's going on? The last I remember was my plane going down." "Later. I'll tell you what I know later. First let me try to find out what's happening here." Reynolds advanced to the woman drummer and bowed briefly. Best to be polite to a witch. "My name is Reynolds Volek," he said. "The brother of Nicholas, who you've named the One Who Changes. He doesn't understand your tongue so I must speak for him. I should also tell you he won't remember as a man what he did while a beast." The woman pushed back the white hood covering her head and shadowing her face. Reynolds caught his breath as golden waves of hair tumbled past her shoulders to her waist. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And one of the angriest. "Do you tell me your brother won't remember Thalia, the woman he is bound to for all eternity?" "I'll ask him," he said placatingly. He turned to his brother. "Her name's Thalia, Nick, and she seems to think the two of you are bound to one another forever." "There's something about her--" Nick paused, his eyes never leaving Thalia. "I wish I could remember." "Though he doesn't understand why," Reynolds said diplomatically, "my brother feels drawn to you." Her anger faded visibly. "I knew he would sense the bond." She strode to Nick and put a hand to either side of his face, gazing deeply into his eyes for a long moment. Then, as though the two of them were alone and not surrounded by eleven women and one man, all avidly watching, she gently pulled his head down until their lips met. Nick, seemingly as oblivious as she, wrapped his arms around her, gathering her close as he kissed her with passionate enthusiasm, releasing her only when she pulled away from him. Even then, he caught her hand and held it. Thalia smiled at Reynolds. "We speak without language, as we did when he was a beast." She cocked her head, her gaze traveling over Reynolds until she was staring into his eyes. He felt as though she was searching his very soul. "There is also a beast inside you, the brother, nicht what?" Hypnotized by her glittering eyes, he nodded numbly. Thalia's smile gleamed with triumph. She turned to the waiting women and announced, "Sisters, our moon plea has been truly answered. It is forbidden that I share he who is my

heart with you but I have no bond with his brother." She gestured toward Reynolds. This man is also One Who Changes and he is yours." Before Reynolds realized what they meant to do, all eleven women rushed toward him. The first one to reach him clutched his arm and said fiercely to the others, "It is my right to be first. The rest of you draw lots." She flipped back her hood, revealing sleek dark hair, and gazed meltingly up at Reynolds. "Ah," she murmured, pressing against his side, "you are very handsome." Only then did he understand what was expected of him. How the hell could he get out of this mess? He glanced at Nick who merely shrugged. "Nick," he said urgently, "we're behind enemy lines. Every second we remain here increases the danger. We've got to get going." Thalia frowned, feeling the sudden tension in her mate, tension produced by the urgent message from his brother in a tongue she didn't understand. Obviously Reynolds was trying to drive a wedge between her and Nicholas. Never! Energy crackled within her from the cone of power they'd raised from the earth before the brother appeared. She eased her hand from Nicholas's grasp, glided to his brother, spread both hands across his bare chest, closed her eyes and summoned the energy, letting it flow from her into Reynolds. He cried out and jerked away from her. Too late. Reeling backward, he sprawled onto the pine needles, shuddered, and lay still. Nicholas ran and knelt beside him. Thalia glided to his side and waited. After a time Reynolds opened his eyes. Nicholas and Minna, the one who would be first with him, helped him to his feet. When it was clear that Minna could handle Reynolds without help, Thalia took hold of Nicholas's hand again, drew him away from his brother and touched her lips to his. He resisted momentarily but his arms closed around her when she pressed her body against him. The desire sizzling between them fed on her earth-energy and expanded, sweeping them into the circle and bringing them together in a violent mating orgasm. Reynolds, flat on his back, stared up at the dark-haired naked woman straddling him while she fondled his prick. He wasn't sure who she was, he was damned if he could remember where he was but, fully aroused, he didn't much care. He groaned with pleasure when she raised herself to fit his

prick inside her and gave himself up to enjoyment. It was over all too soon. He closed his eyes as she eased off him. Vaguely he realized something wasn't right but there seemed to be a hiatus he couldn't span between what was happening and what he ought to remember. Before he managed to order his thoughts, he felt a weight on his legs and opened his eyes. Another naked woman, this one younger and prettier, smiled at him before she bent to take his limp prick into her mouth. It didn't stay limp long. And this time he rode on top. When he finished he dozed, only to be roused by still another woman. After a while, dazed and exhausted, he lost count. Nicholas, dressed in a hooded white robe, shook him awake at dawn. Reynolds sat up and looked around. The two of them were alone in the pine grove. "I had the damnedest dream," Reynolds began. "You'll never believe--" He broke off, alarm tensing him. Pine grove, yes, but not in California. This was Germany. The Black Forest. "Christ, Nick," he said, "what the hell happened last night?" "Thalia jolted you with something. It knocked you on your ass but you sure came back in a hurry." Nicholas shook his head. "You screwed all eleven of them." It hadn't been a dream. No wonder he felt wrung out. A rustling between the trees drove him to his feet. Danger! Nick put a hand on his arm. "It's only Thalia. She's waiting for us." Reynolds yanked on his pants and grabbed his shirt. "Do you want the amulet back," Nick asked. "You'd better keep it for now. There's no time to waste; we've got to get over the Rhine into France." Reynolds glanced through the pine branches at the rapidly brightening sky and swore. They didn't dare risk crossing by daylight. "Thalia will help us." Reynolds looked at him skeptically. As he followed his brother he thought that so far all Thalia had done was use them as studs for reasons he didn't understand. Why had she forced him to service all the women except her? Because he had been forced. He knew better than to think he could screw eleven women in one night. Whatever she'd done to him had shut down his mind and juiced up his body. He didn't go around fucking indiscriminately--and never without condoms. No Volek worth the name wanted to leave a changeling growing in some poor, unaware woman. Witch or

not, he meant to set Thalia straight before he and Nick left. As they approached her, Reynolds saw she was wearing a robe like Nick's, her beautiful golden hair in one long braid down her back. The bird perching on her shoulder flew into a pine when they came close. "I take you to She Who Waits," Thalia said. "We haven't time," Reynolds protested. "You will come." It wasn't a question or an order. She simply stated a fact. Annoyance rising, Reynolds shook his head. "There's no time. But before we leave I have to warn you that if any of you women have a child as a result of last night, the child might be a shifter." "We hope to have babies," she said, "and we hope they will be ones who change." "Thalia, shifters are dangerous. You don't realize--" She raised an imperious hand. "I know more than you, Reynolds Volek. She-Who-Waits has told us what must be done and we obey. She brought you here for us, don't you yet realize that?" He stared at her, aware he'd never make her understand. "Look, we can't stay here," he said. "If we're captured, Nick and I--" "No one will capture you. Not here." Reynolds scowled. "Nick and I are hiking down to the Rhine. Now." "You surely will be caught if you try to cross the river during the day," she said, nodding her head at Nick, dressed in the white robe. "Look at him." "I'll find him other clothes." He started to turn away, determined not to be trapped in any more of her nets. "We can't leave until dark," Thalia said. "You know that as well as I." He swung around to face her. "We? You're not coming with us." "Nicholas and I were bound when we called down the moon. We cannot be parted. If he goes, I go." She held out her hand to Nick and he clasped it, drawing her to his side. "Look, Nick, I've tried to explain to her that she can't come with us." Reynolds did his best to keep his voice calm, his tone reasonable. "It's too dangerous. We'll be lucky to make it ourselves." "I can't leave her." Nick spoke flatly. "I won't go without Thalia." Reynolds knew when to give up. Once his older brother,

generally easy going, dug his heels in, nothing could budge him. He changed the subject. "Thalia wants us to meet someone called She Who Waits," he told Nick. "Since we can't cross the river until dark, I suppose we might as well." He turned to Thalia. "Where are the others?" he asked. She smiled slightly. "Your companions of the night? I've sent them to the house we share. Do you wish to say goodbye?" Ignoring the question, he said, "Is She Who Waits at the house, too?" "She isn't like us; she doesn't need shelter." Without another word, Thalia released Nick's hand and set off, walking briskly, seeming to follow a path invisible to Reynolds. Nick strode after her, leaving Reynolds to bring up the rear, wondering what the hell they were getting into now. The sun rose before they reached a stand of tall pines whose massive trunks suggested the trees had stood as long as the mountain they grew on. Light filtered sparsely through the thick canopy of needles overhead. Thalia paused in the gloom under the trees so he and Nick halted, too, watching her while she chanted in an unfamiliar language. After a time she fell silent and appeared to be listening. Reynolds heard nothing. He saw nothing except a sprinkling of green motes shimmering in the air as they danced around her. Nick, he noticed, was staring at the green shimmer with awe that changed to fear as some of the motes danced toward them. He gripped Reynolds' arm, his fingers digging in. That was the last thing Reynolds remembered. Embrace the dark brother. Become one with the dark sister. It wasn't a whisper, wasn't a voice at all but a thought, circling in his mind as though it was his own. But how could it be his thought when he couldn't grasp the meaning? You and yours, together with the dark ones, must tread the predestined path. Together, not alone, for you are one half, the dark ones the other half. Only together can you be whole. He strained to understand for he believed the meaning of life lay concealed within the words. Beware the one who heals only to rend…. Reynolds found himself standing in the small clearing near last night's fire, the warning burning in his mind. Beware….. Nick, looking as bewildered as he felt, stood beside him.

Thalia knelt several feet away, picking through the contents of a duffle bag. She shook out a skirt and laid it aside, then a pair of trousers made of some rough cloth. Dazed, his thoughts in chaos, Reynolds could see what she was doing but was unable to focus on the meaning. When he glanced at the sun he was shocked to find it overhead. "Christ, it's noon," he muttered. "Where did the time go?" "Noon?" Nick shook himself like a dog coming out of water. "I have men's clothes for Nicholas," Thalia said to Reynolds, holding up the pants. "That's for you," he said to Nick, able at last to gather his wits. They left the clearing after a meal of cold venison and ripe berries, dark and sweet. By then Nick wore the shirt and pants of a farmer, while Thalia's skirt, blouse and drab kerchief transformed her into a fair imitation of a farmer's wife. By carefully walling off what had happened in the ancient grove, Reynolds was able to concentrate on the job ahead--getting the three of them down the mountain and then across the Rhine without being caught by a stray Nazi patrol. And that was only the beginning. He knew it would be even more difficult to ease Thalia and Nick safely out of France to England. Four years and four months later, the war over, Nicholas and Thalia, now married, arrived at Volek House. Reynolds returned a week later, just in time for Christmas dinner. They found a few changes. The children had grown--Yuba, and Daniel, the youngest, were now six and didn't remember Reynolds and Nicholas. Bren and Beth had married and, urged on by Jennifer and her husband, Bren was in his second year of medical school at Stanford. The war had added to the Volek wealth. Everybody was at the house for Christmas, even Lily's new husband, Clint Montrose, a tall thin man with a terribly scarred face, though he came late in the evening and hardly spoke to anyone. Reynolds waited through the holidays, waited until Jennifer and Lily and their families were gone and the household had settled into a regular routine. On the third of January, after the servants had left for the night, he gathered the adults around the dining room table, bribing the older children to keep the younger ones amused in the

playroom. Zachary and Sara, now nineteen, were invited to stay. "I hope Uncle Rey tells us what he did in the war," Zach said. "I was hoping to find out for myself what it's like but the draft board never got to my number." Sara scowled at him. "You'd probably have turned into a beast in the middle of a battle and, zap, no more Zach." He grinned amiably. "I haven't shifted yet. Maybe I never will." Sara shrugged. "I'll bet that's what they all said before it happened." Personally, she hoped he never would but she knew that was unlikely. Voleks were shifters, they couldn't get away from it. They could learn to control shifting but there was no real escape. Two weeks ago she'd overheard Nicholas telling Arno how he'd turned into a beast after his plane crashed in Germany. And Nicholas wasn't even supposed to âÑåÑ a shifter. Neither was she. She'd rather kill herself than have it happen to her. Even the thought of shifting turned her stomach. She didn't know how she could bear it when Zach shifted. "I had an unusual experience in Germany," Reynolds began and everyone immediately fell silent, listening. "Nick shared this experience. Unfortunately, neither of us understand what happened. Maybe you will." As soon as Sara realized Rey wasn't just telling some gory old war story, she hung on every word, as fascinated as Zach. She cast occasional interested glances at Thalia as Rey went on, reevaluating Nick's wife when she heard Thalia had led them to She Who Waits. Embrace the dark brother. Become one with the dark sister. Sara shivered as the words echoed in her mind. What did they mean? Zach was blond, she was brunette. That made her Zach's dark sister. And Victor was dark while Jody was fair. But they were only cousins so he couldn't be a dark brother. Anyway, that was too simple to be the answer. Wasn't it? Without taking her eyes off Rey, Sara leaned closer to her brother. "Do you think he means me, Zach?" His only answer was a strangled groan. Sara turned to stare at him. Zach's pain-contorted face and the desperate way he clutched his stomach terrified her, parching her throat so no sound emerged when she tried to scream. She grabbed at his arm but he flung her off and began tearing at his clothes. Across the table Arno shouted, "Zach!" It was then Sara realized what was happening to her

twin. Bile flooded her mouth, gagging her. She leaped to her feet, knocked her chair backwards and stumbled over it in her hurry to flee. She grabbed at the sideboard to steady herself and her arm brushed against the ebony box containing the silver-handled carving set. As she stared at it, she found her vision becoming tinged with red. All rational thought faded. When she turned toward the table with the sharp-edged carving knife in her hand she peered through a red mist as she searched for her prey. There! There he was, the one who'd betrayed her by shifting, the one she must kill. Would kill. She raised the knife and lunged. "Look out!" someone shouted. Too late. The sharp blade plunged into the beast's back. Blood matted the ugly, dark fur. Hands pinioned her arms as she tried to yank the knife free to stab him again and again and again. Voices babbled as two men dragged her away. She heard one word repeated many times. "Stalker." They brought her to another room. Through the red haze, she glared at a white-haired old man and a younger one with gray streaks in his dark hair. The younger man grasped her by the shoulders. "Sara, what happened?" She heard the words but they didn't make sense. "Don't waste your breath, Ivan," the older man said. "Until she comes out of it there's no more use trying to talk to her than to a beast." Knowing she must escape, she tried to break free of the man holding her but he tightened his grip. "You're not going anywhere, Sara." His voice was stern rather than angry. Stern and sad. He wasn't a shifter. Neither was the old man. Blood kin, possibly, she had no way to tell. But the fact they were in the same house with a shifter was enough to taint them. If she could, when she could, she'd kill them, too. The door opened and a young man came into the room. Not related to the other two, she decided, because he looked too different. There was a word for him, yes, she had it, Chinese. He was Chinese. And not a shifter. "Beth sent me, told me to try using ch'i energy," the Chinese man said. He looked at the old man. "She said she needs your help for a journey." The old man nodded and left the room. The Chinese man picked a straight-backed chair from against the wall and placed it next to her. "Sit down, Sara," he said.

When she didn't obey, the man gripping her shoulders forced her down onto the chair, then stepped back, watching her. The Chinese man eased behind her and she half-turned to watch him, knowing she could trust no one in this house. But all he did was rest his hands lightly on top of her head. She tried to shake them off but failed. Between them the two men were stronger than she. If she fought, she'd get nowhere so she submerged her instinct to struggle and sat as quietly as she could, waiting for a chance to escape. The man behind her, his hands still resting on her head, began to hum a single, monotonous, sustained note. She meant to ignore the sound but the humming was insidious, working its way inside her mind to blur her thinking. Despite her desperate attempt to keep her defenses intact, she began to relax. Years before, when they'd decided to keep Susan in the tower, Waino had transferred Liisi's noita belongings as well as his own from there into the secret basement room reached through the passageway in the study. The brickwalled room no longer resembled Quincy's prison, nor the trysting place where Marti and Curtis had first come together as beasts. Ancient tapestries covered the bricks, the round silk rug lay in the exact center of the floor, Liisi's brassstudded chest sat against one wall while other chests held shaman garb. Drums and bells hung from gargoyle carved wooden posts. Beth, wearing only the deerskin tunic that had once belonged to Grandmother Liisi, glanced around the dimly lit room before seating herself in the middle of the blue silk rug. She had brought back Zach's rune, Ehwo, from a journey made years ago. Would poor Zach live to wear it? The stalker heritage of Sara and Zach's nameless grandfather had been passed to Sara, something no one had realized until she'd tried to kill her shifter twin. Stalker or not, Sara was one of their own, she shared their blood. Voleks do not kill Voleks. But Sara had to be rendered harmless and there was no way to accomplish that without a visit to the underworld. Beth was the only one who could make that journey. Wolf was dead and Waino was too old. They must find a shaman to follow her when she grew too old, but so far none of the children of Volek House showed any talent for shamanism. So, despite the danger of bearing another shifter, she and Bren must have a child. She sighed. Fond as she was of Bren,

she'd never been able to forget Curtis. He was the one she should have married; he should have fathered her child. Beth watched Waino lift Sergei's drum from one of the posts and, chanting, run his fingers over the drum, feeling the tiny row of sharp fangs, the bright wisp of human hair and the rust-colored scrap of cloth before handing the drum to her. Holding two circlets of bells bound to deerskin, he began to pace slowly around the outside of the rug, shaking the bells. Beth lifted the bone drumstick with its head of sable fur, closed her eyes and brought it down onto the drumhead, once, twice, three times, before slipping into the steady, muffled trance beat. She breathed deeply, then exhaled until all thought fled with the air from her lungs, until nothing remained but the tinkle of bells and the drumming. There was no house, no room, no body, only the shadow hole gaping dark and sinister before her. She plunged through. Early in her training, Waino had told Beth that each shaman visits a different underworld, for the human body and mind shapes each shaman differently. Though the body is left behind, the journeying shadow soul has lived in that body and absorbed experiences from it. The only consistent feature of the journey for all is the dark river that must be crossed by the shaman, what Waino called the River of Tuonela. Hell's River. When she emerged from the shadow hole, the river lay at her feet, its rushing silver waters deceptively peaceful. In the river's depths, she knew, lurked monsters. There were but two ways to cross to the other side. She could change into a creature able to swim safely among monsters or she could wait for the boat and take her chances with whatever might be rowing it. Even now a boat, this time a red and gold gondola, approached her. The rower appeared to be a handsome young man but this was a place where appearances were not to be trusted. "Your fee?" she asked when he swung the gondola to the bank and motioned to her to climb aboard. "Nothing you would regret paying, oh beautiful one." His voice was soft and deep and soothing. "That's no answer." "One kiss, perhaps." "You well know the living may not kiss the dead." He smiled. "I must have some small token from you." Though the drum was no more with her than her body, she

felt it under her hands and so she smiled back at him, willing to bargain. "I will decide what the token is to be. Agreed?" He considered. "Human. It must be human." "As you say, so shall it be." "Step aboard, oh fair one, and I will sing you across." Showing hesitation was dangerous, so she boarded the gondola, seating herself, her attention focused on the gondolier, aware she wouldn't be safe from him until she was off the boat and on the far bank. He burst into song as he pushed away from the bank and the boat spun into the river's current. To the shadow soul, all languages are the same so she understood the words he sang without any difficulty. "I am he, I am he, The lost one, the loved one Look in your heart and you'll see What was once lost can be won Look at me..." Before her eyes he changed. Not into a beast or a monster but into something far more dangerous to her. He became Curtis. "I love only you," he declared, kneeling before her, letting the boat drift unheeded. "Marti lured me away but you were the woman I truly loved." He wasn't Curtis, she told herself. And yet--he could be. After all, Curtis was dead. "Touch me, my love, kiss me," he begged. "I've waited so long for you. I've waited forever." Drawn by his words, words she'd always longed to hear, she leaned forward, more and more certain he was actually Curtis. His lips were inches away, lips she'd always longed to feel pressed against hers. They'd never kissed but now, now.... A far-off tinkle of bells broke the spell. She drew back hurriedly, terrified at how close she'd come to kissing whatever it was that rowed her. He wasn't Curtis, no matter how much he looked like him. He'd taken on Curtis's appearance to trick her and she was appalled to realize how near he'd been to succeeding. Once she voluntarily kissed anything in the underworld, her shadow soul could never return to her body, dooming it to death. "My token," the Curtis image demanded. "When we reach the opposite shore." She felt for the drum but couldn't find it. Her lapse had cost her dearly. I need you, spirit-sister, she called. Sister fox, spirit-fox,

help me. She felt a tuft of fur in her fingers. Red fur, fox fur. "I have your token," she told the gondolier, not quite looking at him, no longer able to bear his resemblance to Curtis. Without a word, he swung the boat toward the far shore and began to row. Within moments the gondola brushed against the bank. She rose. He barred her way with the oar. "My token." She handed the fur to him. He fondled it between his fingers, then smiled at her, a terrible evil smile. "We agreed on human. This is not human. I claim my kiss." She backed away from him, falling onto the seat once again. He bent over her, reaching for her. Curtis, yet not Curtis. Not Curtis at all. Death.

Chapter 17 Beth had faced death before. In a way, she had died in order to become a shaman. How else could the flesh have been boiled from her bones to discover if she possessed the extra bone, the secret bone that only shamans have? Where else but in death could she have found Fox, her spiritsister? Wolf's spirit had stood beside her during her initiation, encouraging her, holding back terror. But she was alone now, there was no one to help her. Showing fear or weakness would doom her all the sooner. "You're not Curtis; I won't kiss you," she declared. "If I tried to fool you it was because you tried to trick me." Curtis's features melted away. Underneath was the face of a woman. The hair changed to a deep, burnished red. "No Volek will trick me ever again," the woman said. Beth fought terror. The red-haired witch! Waino had warned her about this malevolent spirit who hated all Voleks,

the spirit who'd trapped Wolf in the underworld--almost fatally. How could she possibly escape? The woman reached for her with long skeleton fingers. Beth tried in vain to find a spell to stop her. There were none; there was no way out. When the shimmer of silver slipped between her and the bony fingers, Beth thought at first it was the witch's doing. Then the shimmer became two silvery eyes that gazed into hers. As they vanished, Beth felt the shape of the drum under her fingers. Who had helped her? Grandmother Liisi? Hastily, she pulled the wisp of bright hair free of the drum and dropped it into the witch's grasping hand. "Human," Beth said. "You know who it belongs to." The witch rolled it between her fingers and muttered a curse. The oar she held dropped and she faded into a red mist. Beth leaped from the boat onto the bank. The lock of hair had been Jael's, cut by Waino long ago to decorate the drum. Beth understood why now. To thwart the spirit of Jael's witch grandmother. But for how long? She must hurry! A dark forest loomed ahead. When she reached its edge, she saw seven paths leading in different directions. As she tried to decide which to choose, one of the tiny fangs dropped off the drum onto the fifth path. She picked up the fang and started along the path. Soon the towers of a castle thrust above the trees and, after a time, the path ended at a moat guarding the castle. She'd hardly had a chance to wonder how she was to cross when, with a great creaking, a drawbridge lowered and crashed into place in front of her. She raced across the wooden planks, through the open gates and into the castle's maw. A dwarf dressed in chain mail materialized and beckoned her to follow him, leading her to a massive dining hall where twenty-four helmeted men and women sat around a vast circular table. Recognizing the symbols on their helmets, she knew immediately they were the twenty-four runes. When the dwarf leaped onto the table and threaded his way through trays of food and flagons of wine to stand at its center, she decided he represented Wyrd, the blank rune. Which rune was the right one? Some had already been used and could be eliminated: Iwaz; Elhaz; Sowilo; Ehwo; Gebo. As she thought the names, five of the helmeted figures rose and left the room. That left nineteen to choose from because somehow she knew Wyrd was not to be considered.

She walked to the table and paused beside Dagaz. Across from her, Ingwaz leaned to embrace Berkano and she took this to be a sign she should dismiss the two of them. Dagaz offered her an apple. She couldn't accept any offering, nor must she eat or drink if she wanted to return to her body, so she smiled and shook her head. Next was Laguz, who ignored her. She hesitated, then moved on to Othalo who was lifting a goblet of wine. The tiny fang she carried in her hand slipped from her fingers, sailed through the air and dropped into the goblet. Othalo, not noticing, raised the goblet to drink. The fangs, Waino had told her, came from Marti's second-born triplet, a monster who had died at birth. As Beth watched apprehensively, Othalo downed the wine, set the goblet on the table, took off his helmet and thrust it at her. Then table and all vanished, leaving the room empty except for the dwarf who stood in front of her gibbering and trying to snatch the helmet from her. She ran from him, racing toward the castle entrance and the drawbridge. He followed her. She was half way across the drawbridge when a slimy green monster crawled from the moat onto the far bank and blocked the bridge, making escape impossible. With the dwarf behind and monster ahead, she was trapped. Setting the helmet firmly onto her head to free her hands, she snatched the scrap of cloth stained with the blood of Marti's stillborn first triplet and threw it into the dwarf's face. It clung to him, growing and changing into a hideous warty gray fungus that covered his face, blinding him. Seeing him try in vain to pluck it off, she turned to the monster. It belched forth a fiery blast, warning her what would happen if she dared to come closer. Reaching for the remaining fangs attached to the drum, Beth gathered them into her hand and flung them toward the fire-breathing monster. Some landed in the moat but five reached the ground. Where each of the five touched down an armor-clad knight on horseback sprang up. At once, from all sides, they attacked the monster with their swords. The monster twisted this way and that, ignoring her as it tried to evade the sword thrusts. Beth dashed across the remaining planks, leaped onto the bank and ran into the woods, careful to follow the path. When she reached the river, the boat still waited. She boarded warily. When nothing happened, she picked up the oar and poled across to the other side.

The next she knew, she lay on the blue silk rug with Waino standing over her and the drum next to her. In her hand she clutched a rune. A silver rune. Never before had she returned with a rune made of silver. "Othalo," Waino said. "Othalo means to evaluate the beliefs of one's ancestors. Appropriate. And silver. Also appropriate for a stalker. We'll take a silver chain from Liisi's chest to string it on." Beth sat up wearily. "I met the witch," she said. Waino sighed. "I kept hoping she'd ignore a female Volek." "She meant to kill me. I'm afraid of her." "As well you might be. You're lucky to have bested her. How did you?" "Jael's hair clipping stopped her. But next time--" She paused, shivering. "We'll worry about that later. I know you're exhausted but it's best that you put the chain with the rune attached around Sara's neck. You understand why." She nodded. The rune had been given to her. In passing it on to Sara, she could use the power derived from her successful underworld journey, use that power to force Sara's acceptance and understanding of Othalo. With the shifter runes it hadn't mattered because shifters were eager to wear the protective amulets. Sara, though, might not want to stop being a stalker. Sara found it impossible to block the soothing, healing energy flowing from the Chinese man's hands to her. Against her will she was lulled into calmness, the red fading from her mind. She felt no alarm when a woman slipped quietly into the room, she didn't struggle when the woman approached and fastened a silver chain around her neck. But when the pendant on the chain fell hard and chill onto her chest, Sara jerked free of the man's hands and leaped to her feet. She looked around dazedly. Waino, Ivan and Beth stood staring at her with worried frowns. Bren was just leaving the room. Sara's hand rose to grasp the pendant on her chest. What was it? "You're wearing the rune Othalo," Beth told her. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" Fear paralyzed Sara. "A rune? Why? I'm not a shifter!" "She's come back to herself," Waino said. Sara turned her gaze to him. "What do you mean 'back to myself?'" Her voice trembled.

"What's the last you remember, Sara?" Waino demanded. She bit her lip. "We were in the dining room listening to Reynolds tell about She Who Waits." His eyes narrowed. "Is that all?" Sara nodded. "Sit down, Sara," Waino ordered, "and listen to me." Since her knees felt like they might give way at any moment, she didn't argue. "I'm sure you remember that Bren, Ivan, Beth and I were in the dining room along with the rest of the adults. I'll tell you what we saw. While Reynolds was talking, without any warning your brother began to shift. You jumped up, grabbed a carving knife from the sideboard and stabbed Zach." Sara gaped at him, too shocked to speak. "It's true. Ask Ivan. Or Beth. Or any of the others who watched you." "But I don't--I wouldn't--not Zach..." "When he shifted, Sara, in a sense you did also--to a stalker. We dragged you in here to try to calm you down. Until Beth slipped the rune around your neck, it was obvious you didn't recognize any of us any more than you realized Zach was your twin when you plunged the knife into his back." Her hands flew to her mouth as she began to accept the truth of Waino's words. "Oh my God! She huddled in on herself and began to rock back and forth on the chair. "My God, my God. Zach!" She sprang up and looked around frantically. "Where is he? Where's my brother?" When Beth put an arm around her, Sara burst into tears. She heard the door open, raised her head from Beth's shoulder and caught a blurred glimpse of Bren coming back into the room. "Zach's alive," Bren said. "Jennifer and Elton are with him. They were still in the valley, visiting her parents, and rushed over as soon as Arno called. So Zach's got two doctors looking after him. And luckily the knife blade was steel, not silver so he's wounded but not poisoned." "You say I stabbed him." Sara's voice was thick with tears. "I stabbed my own brother and I don't even remember doing it." Horror contorted her face. "I'm a stalker. A killer. Of Voleks. Oh, God, I don't deserve to live." She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Waino. He drew her to the wicker settee where he made her sit beside him. "Sara, we need you. I heard what you asked Zach just before he changed--do you recall what it was?" She searched her mind. "I--I think I asked him if he

thought I was the dark sister. The one Reynolds spoke of." "Perhaps you are. Perhaps stalkers are the dark brothers and sisters of shifters. Perhaps what the disembodied entity in the German forest meant was that stalkers and shifters must learn to accept, instead of kill, one another. The advice of She Who Waits has convinced me that Voleks will never understand their heritage until the two, stalkers and shifters, unite. Only then will a reason come clear, the purpose for which each was created. For there must be a purpose." A long silence fell, broken by Ivan. "In Russia," he said, "my father believed the answers lay hidden in the Russian forests where Voleks originated." Waino nodded. "Sergei was very likely right. On New Year's Day, Thalia and I had a long talk about She Who Waits. This entity of the German forest is the last of its kind in Germany and Thalia insists She Who Waits is slowly dying. But Thalia has a feeling there may be other earth spirits somewhere to the east. Quite possibly in Russia." Sara, numb with anguish, listened to his words without taking them all in. But she grasped enough to decide what she must do. Holding the silver rune in her hand, she looked at Beth. "Will this keep me from turning into a stalker?" Beth nodded. "Just as Zach's amulet will protect him against shifting. In addition, Othalo will help you find your spiritual heritage. Your rune is complementary to Zach's for Ehwo provides the means to reach a spiritual destination. Ehwo also brings two forces together toward a common goal." A thrill of hope ran through Sara. There was a purpose for her to fulfill, after all. For her and for Zach. If he lived. On the third of June, Samara woke to find a note had been shoved under her door during the night, a note signed by both Zach, now healed completely, and Sara. "We're on our way to Russia to find the earth spirits and learn why there are stalkers and shifters. We believe we were born to do this--please don't try to bring us back." Despite a strong doubt it would be possible for the twins to enter Russia during these unsettled times, and a fear of what might happen to them if they did succeed in crossing the border, the family decided Zach and Sara must be allowed to try. By this time, the two German wives, Griselda and Thalia,

had grown close. "Thalia has persuaded me to exercise my talents," Griselda told Jael as the two of them worked together in the kitchen during the afternoon of July Fourth. "I don't know whether I should have listened to her or not." The servants had been given the day off, so Jael and Griselda were preparing the picnic supper to be served outside on the grounds. "Does that mean you've uncovered your crystal?" Jael asked. "Among other things. But so far the crystal hasn't shown me anything. Maybe I've lost my ability to read it. When I lay out the tarot, though--" Griselda broke off and shook her head. "I don't like what the cards tell me." Jael paused in the middle of cutting up potatoes for salad to look at Griselda. "What do they tell you?" "Do you understand the tarot at all?" "I'm afraid not." Griselda wiped her hands on her apron before starting to peel the hard-boiled eggs. "As you know, my mother was half Rom so I have gypsy blood. For many, many years the Rom have used tarot cards to tell fortunes. When my mother taught me the meaning of the tarot she discovered I had a feeling for the cards. I'm ashamed to say I exploited that talent to support myself. Misused it. Lied to the people whose fortunes I told." She shrugged. "One learns early that people won't pay to hear about misfortune." "So you spoke of tall dark and handsome men and happy voyages?" "I told them what they wanted to hear." Defensiveness crept into Griselda's voice. "But that was long ago and possibly forgivable since I had to lie or starve. I might never have unwrapped the cards again if Nicholas hadn't married Thalia and brought her home. I don't blame her; it's not her fault. In fact, she's become a good friend. Still-there it is." "Did you use the cards to tell her fortune?" "Thalia? No, not her. The Saturday before Easter I brought the pack with me into the morning room and was looking through them, thinking about my mother. If you'll recall, Lily came to the house that Saturday to bring Easter gifts for the children. When she found me with the cards she insisted I tell her fortune then and there. Nothing I could say dissuaded her and so I gave in, thinking it could do little harm." Griselda set the last peeled egg aside and rinsed her

hands under the faucet. After drying them on a dish towel, she picked up a bunch of celery, broke off a stalk and began slicing it with a paring knife. "Do you want to talk about it?" Jael asked. "Yes and no. I'd rather not but I have to tell someone or go crazy thinking about what I saw in the cards. I don't want to burden Thalia when she's expecting, and I'd rather not mention it to Arno." Griselda's smile was apologetic. "That leaves you." She put down the knife and looked at Jael. "There are various ways to read the cards--I used a lay out of ten plus the significator, the card that represents the subject. In Lily's case, this was the Queen of Wands which I removed from the pack and laid face up on the table. Before going on, I asked her to think of the one question she hoped the cards would answer but not to tell me what it was. Then, after I'd shuffled the deck and had her touch it, I laid the first ten cards out face up in the pattern I prefer." Griselda sighed. "If only I'd had the sense to refuse." Jael set the potato salad aside and leaned on the counter, listening. "The first card was The Moon," Griselda went on, "so I knew something in her life was seriously disturbing Lily. However innocently she may have formed her question to herself, lurking underneath would be a tormenting uneasiness that had to do with deception. The next card was the High Priestess, showing hidden influences at work against Lily. The third, the Three of Swords, reversed, told me what was long past in her life--loss, disorder, confusion. "The Ten of Cups, reversed, was fourth. This meant in Lily's recent past there'd been a family quarrel. Next, the Nine of Swords, a grim card, predicted what the future might hold--the death of a loved one. The Chariot, reversed, followed it, indicating what definitely would come to pass-vengeance and perverse desires. The seventh, the Ten of Pentacles, reversed, gave an inkling of Lily's fears: Family misfortune. Never in my life have I read a gloomier fortune. "The eighth card showed the attitude of someone close to Lily. By now I wasn't surprised to see it was the Ace of Swords, indicating great hatred. Lily's hopes rested on the next card, The Tower. Here was the one positive card. She hoped for a change, a change for the better. But the last of all, the final card, warned me her hope was in vain. This card, The Devil, read in conjunction with the others, meant violence would be the final outcome." Griselda held out her hands. "What could I tell her?

Jael shook her head. "Certainly not that good luck and happiness lay in wait." "I balked at saying I could see nothing but misfortune ahead but I knew Lily must be warned. Finally I told her the cards predicted that someone close to her wished her ill. Since there was no way to know who it was, she must be careful and remain alert to danger at all times. She wasn't happy with the reading but she didn't seem unduly distressed until I mentioned that vengeance played a part in the illwishing. Before I could stop her, she swept the cards off the table onto the floor and stalked from the room." "The fault doesn't lie in the cards," Jael said. "Or in you." "I should never have consented to do the reading. I've even had nightmares since then where a dark and terrible figure leans over me, gloating. He looks like the symbol on The Devil tarot, beast-headed, with horns, bat wings and taloned feet--evil incarnate. I fear for Lily, I really do." "Fear what?" Cecelia's voice startled them for they hadn't seen her enter the kitchen. When neither replied immediately, Cecelia added, "Does it have anything to do with what I just heard over the radio?" "What was that?" Griselda asked. "Something about a vampire bat in our valley attacking people at night." Griselda glanced at Jael before turning to Cecelia again. "Vampire bats?" "They're native to the tropics where they suck the blood of animals. Don't ask me what one is doing in California." Cecelia shuddered. "I've never been able to tolerate bats." Griselda's description of the creature in her nightmares echoed in Jael's mind. Bat-winged. Coincidence? It must be. "Was this bat supposed to have sucked human blood?" she asked, grimacing. "Apparently it did because there were bite marks on the victims' necks." Cecelia frowned, looking at Griselda. "But if this is the first you've heard of the bat, what's the reason you're afraid for Lily?" "I read the tarot for her and didn't like what I saw," Griselda said, flushing. "I didn't mean to broadcast it." Cecelia studied her. "These readings of yours--how accurate are they?" Griselda moved her shoulders uneasily. "Usually pretty close to the mark." "I want you to tell me what you think Lily has to fear," Cecelia said. "This isn't an idle request. Jennifer's

worried about her twin sister." "Someone close to Lily seeks vengeance. The cards also showed possible death of a loved one, hatred, perverse desire and violence." Cecelia raised her eyebrows. "Who seeks vengeance?" Griselda shrugged. "They aren't that specific." "Jennifer believes Clint's lying about fighting in the Spanish Civil War," Cecelia confided. "But those scars," Jael said. "Where else would he have gotten such horrible scars on his face? And why lie about it?" "I don't know. Jennifer distrusts Clint; she was against Lily marrying him but finally had to accept him or lose Lily. The man is odd--he hardly ever goes anywhere and then only in the evening. They had an evening wedding, if you recall. But that's no reason to condemn Clint. Still, if you don't mind, Griselda, I intend to tell Jennifer about the tarot reading." Griselda nodded unhappily. The picnic was a success. The five children raced wildly about the grounds afterward, excited about the fireworks Nicholas and Reynolds planned to shoot off from the family airfield after dark. As the evening shadows lengthened, the two older children, Victor and Jody, begged to be allowed to go outside the grounds to help with the fireworks but they had to be satisfied with watching them from the balcony off the tower stairs along with the younger kids. Since the protective lattice of wrought-iron prevented anyone from falling off the balcony the children needed no more than minimal supervision. Jael offered to stay with them. When the first of the rockets burst with an ear-cracking bang, showering brilliant green stars into the air, Elias edged closer to her. Jael pretended not to notice, aware he dreaded being teased about being a scaredy-cat by the others. Though he wasn't abnormally fearful, he was easily startled by loud noises. After a few minutes, accepting the bangs, he left her side to join the others at the stone railing. Despite Jael's fondness for her daughter, Elias had a place in her heart no other child could ever fill, for he was all she had left of Marti. As rocket after rocket rose to scatter its brilliance into the night, the children ohed and ahed and clapped, Victor demonstrating his new-found ability to whistle between

his teeth. Elias seemed as enthusiastic as any of them so she was surprised when he suddenly edged backwards until he reached her. He tugged at her hand urgently until she bent to him. "Something bad out there," he whispered in her ear. Feeling him tremble, she dropped to one knee and put her arms around him. "Where is this bad thing?" she asked softly. "In the night." Elias gestured vaguely. "He hurts in my head." "Is it a man?" He shook his head. "What, then?" "Don't know. Bad." He buried his face in her shoulder. "Make him go away." Jael reached to tap Jody's shoulder. When the girl turned to look at her, Jael said, "Elias is sick, I'm taking him to his room. Watch the little ones, please, Jody." Jody nodded and turned back to the the fireworks. Holding Elias's hand, Jael led him down to the second floor. She found Samara, asked her to go up to the balcony to be with the children, then took Elias to Waino. He was, as she knew he'd be, in the study. Fireworks held no thrill for Waino. Seating herself on the leather couch, she gathered Elias onto her lap. "Elias tells me he senses something bad in the night," she said. Waino got up from his chair to come and kneel in front of the couch. He took one of Elias's hands in his. "You're a brave boy to tell Jael," he said. "Can you tell me what you mean by bad?" "He hates people." Elias whispered. "He hates me." "Does he know you sense him?" Waino asked. "I think so. But he can't get me, not in the house." "That's right, he can't get you. I'll make sure he can't. What's he look like?" "All black." "His skin, too?" Elias thought about it. "I don't know. I dream about him in the night sometimes." Jael nodded. "Elias had a terrible nightmare on Christmas. Since then he's had bad dreams off and on for about a month. I didn't realize they were anything more than nightmares." "In my dreams it seems like he can fly," Elias said. "Only he wasn't flying when I was on the balcony."

"Was he inside the grounds?" Waino asked. Elias hesitated. "Maybe once. Not tonight, though." "Is he like an animal? Like a beast?" "No. He's mostly like a man only he isn't. When I was on the balcony he was watching Cousin Nicholas and Cousin Reynolds shoot off the fireworks but mostly he was watching Cousin Thalia." Waino rose to his feet and strode to the door. "Arno!" he shouted. "Ivan! Leo!" When no one immediately appeared he swore. "Am I the only man in the house?" "I'm here," Leo called from the staircase. "What's the matter?" he asked as he approached the study. "Warn Reynolds and Nicholas something's watching them-and get Thalia back here in a hurry." "Something?" "Evil's out there--how the hell do I know what form it chooses to take? Hurry!" "A stalker?" Anger edged Leo's words. "No," Waino said, "but I'm afraid whatever it is may be even more dangerous."

Chapter 18 Black mask in place, with only his eyes and mouth showing, he eased from the house on a warm August night. It was late, past midnight, because his wife was getting more and more difficult to lull to sleep. He was certain she had no inkling of the truth but she'd grown increasingly anxious over the past several months. She had no reason to be--if anyone was safe from the terrors of the night, she was. At least until after their child was born. He'd been frustrated time and again in his plans to eliminate the other, the one he'd hated all these long and difficult years. Time after time she'd put off visiting them. But last night his wife had mentioned they'd be seeing her sister at Volek House in October, because everyone was invited to a Halloween party for the children. Halloween. Most appropriate. His lips twisted into a

malevolent smile, revealing abnormally long and pointed eye teeth. His wife's sister was in for the shock of her life. The last shock. Their first meeting had been at a college Halloween party and he'd been dressed like Count Dracula. Would she remember that meeting? It was her fault that he'd never been able to forget it, just as his wasted and miserable years had been her fault. But finally he'd come into his own. When he passed the Volek House he scowled. Someone in there knew what he was; more than once he'd felt them recoil from his presence. One of the children, he suspected. Sooner or later he'd have to identify which of them it was and eliminate him or her. He paused. The child would be asleep now. Strong as his influence was, he wouldn't be able to induce the child to come to him--too many locked doors and gates lay in between them. And he couldn't enter. The child must have alerted the Voleks because, since the last time he'd been invited onto the grounds, someone had set a protective spell that prevented him from crossing over the wall. He couldn't bring the child to him, nor go to the child but that didn't mean he was helpless. If the child sensed him, then the child could be reached. He circled the outside of the wall, taking note of any light visible through a window on the second story. Then he closed his eyes and sent the call. Come. Rise from your bed. Rise and turn on your light. Then open your blinds. Do not turn off the light until I tell you to. He circled the wall again, stopping when he saw a light where none had shone before. Counting windows, he memorized the location, then sent another call. Close the blinds. Turn off the light. Go back to bed. Forget what you’ve done. The light dimmed. Went off. He knew which bedroom; soon he'd know which child. Turning away, he glided toward the new county campground in the foothills. Not too many campers knew about it yet but, for his purposes, the fewer the better. He'd learned the hard way that patience saved trouble, so he waited in the shadows of the trees, gazing at the three tents pitched far apart. Unlike houses, he didn't have to be invited into a tent. Overhead a quarter moon rode low in the sky. A dying camp-fire winked red. In the distance an owl hooted four times and fell silent. Nothing stirred around

him. Assured everyone slept, he glided to the nearest tent, eased the flap aside and entered. A man and a boy sprawled on the ground in sleeping bags. He lay a hand on each of their foreheads. Sleep, he ordered. Do not wake. Because young blood is sweetest, he chose the boy first, careful not to drain him before moving to the man, where he satisfied his hunger, again careful not to kill. Dead bodies invariably brought trouble. He was home before dawn. Reynolds strode into the study where Nick and Ivan were sitting behind the paper-strewn desk poring over the quarterly financial statement of McDee Enterprises. "Remember Rockin' Ruby's navigator?" Reynolds asked Nick. Nick looked up and nodded. "Good old Bos. I heard he got shot up on his next mission. Lost part of a foot, I understand." "Yeah, he was invalided out of the Air Corps and apparently spent his convalescence writing about his war experiences." Nick grinned. "I'll be damned. He always claimed he meant to." Reynolds slapped a book onto the paper-covered desk. "Here it is, hot off the press. One of my OSS buddies sent me an advance copy. He took the time to mark a few pages he thought might interest me." Reynolds opened the book and thrust it at Nick. "Here, read what good old Bos has to say about the night Rockin' Ruby went down behind enemy lines." Nick scanned the page, his pleased expression fading. He turned to the next page, read on for a bit, then looked up scowling. "Son of a bitch." Ivan eased the book away from Nick. "A Night to Remember by Alan Bosworth." He glanced at the marked pages Nick had read. "Jesus," he muttered when he finished. "This Bosworth might just as well have stuck a shapeshifter label on your forehead, Nick." Reynolds closed the book with a snap. "We can't do a damn thing about it without calling more attention to the Voleks, so we'll just have to hope no one believes such a unlikely story." The door opened and Samara looked in. "Am I interrupting anything vital?" Ivan motioned her inside. "I don't know if you realize it," she said, "but two of

the servants, Landra and Maud Bailey, didn't come in this morning," she said. "Landra just called to tell me they didn't want to work at Volek House any longer." The three men glanced at one another. "Landra says we're too close to the campground where that little boy was found dead last week. She's afraid to come here, even to collect her pay. From the way she acted you'd think we were responsible for what happened." Ivan sighed. "There's always been gossip about the Voleks--with cause. Now we're being blamed for a death we had nothing to do with." "Why should anyone blame us?" Samara was indignant. "The Times Deltasaid the coroner's report indicated the boy had been bitten on the neck and then bled to death from the wound because he was a hemophiliac. He must have been bitten by that bat they've been talking about on the radio." "Waino's sure it's not a blood-sucking bat," Ivan said. "He keeps muttering about the undead, whatever that means." Nicholas thumped the cover of the book. "We've got enough problems with Bos shooting off his mouth in print. Whatever's out there sucking blood, we'd better find a way to get rid of it before any more deaths get totted up onto the Volek account." Ivan shrugged. "I've got a feeling that's easier said than done." In September, lessons began for the children in the log schoolhouse on the grounds. This year the Voleks had hired an older man, Claude Simmons, retired from teaching in the Sacramento public schools. He'd recently moved to Tulare, a town within reasonable driving distance. The children liked him and he seemed to enjoy his five pupils from seven to twelve. Near the end of the month, he stopped by the house after class to talk to Jael, who acted as liaison between him and the Voleks. "I believe Elias to be a bright boy," Mr. Simmons began, "but he's having trouble concentrating on his lessons." He paused to look searchingly at her. "To be frank, Elias seems unduly nervous. I thought at first it might be because I was a stranger but he's adjusted to me quite well. I wondered if anyone had considered having the boy examined by a doctor?" "That's an excellent suggestion, Mr. Simmons." Jael forced enthusiasm into her voice. "I appreciate your concern and I'll speak to the family." After he left, she sat alone in the morning room.

While it was simple enough to glide over Elias's problem while speaking to the teacher, actually doing anything about the boy's increasing fears was extremely difficult. As for a doctor--what would she say to one? That Elias sensed evil in the night and was afraid? She shook her head. "What's the matter?" Leo spoke from the open doorway. Why did he always have to startle her? She stared at him lounging against the door frame, obviously at ease, while her heart hammered in triple time. "What makes you think anything is?" Annoyance tinged her words. Leo held up a hand, palm outward. "Peace between us, all right?" He sauntered into the room, closed the door and dropped onto the wicker settee, facing her. "I overheard you talking to the teacher. On purpose, I admit. You know Arno, Reynolds and I have been taking turns patrolling the grounds at night. All three of us agree there's something out there. We can't tell what it is but it sure as hell keeps us on edge. Elias evidently gets a much stronger sense of what prowls the night and what he senses is taking a toll on the poor kid." Jael's annoyance disappeared. She leaned forward, intent on what he was saying. "Last Saturday I took Elias outside the gates to play catch," Leo went on. "This was in broad daylight--about one in the afternoon--but he was so tense with anxiety he fumbled the ball almost every time. This from a kid who's a natural athlete and graceful as they come. He relaxed a little after we came back inside the gate and wandered into the barn. He loves cats--reminds me of how his mother used to spend hours in the barn playing with every kitten she could find." Jael smiled, recalling Marti's fondness for cats. Leo's yellow gaze focused on her. "Anyway, we got to talking. Do you know that whatever walks the night calls to him in his dreams, telling Elias to unlock the doors, unlock the gate and come to him? Elias must fight the compulsion almost every night." "I know." She sighed. "As you're aware, he sleeps in the room Marti used--the one connected by a door to mine. At first I simply locked his door and my door and put the keys under my pillow. But now he insists each night that we tie a long string around his ankle, run it through the connecting door and tie the other end to my wrist so that if he does get out of bed, I'll feel the jerk on my wrist and wake up." Leo shook his head. "I had no idea it'd gotten so bad. I'd let him sleep with me but I know Elias trusts you more

than anyone." Jael bit her lip. "That's what's so hard! He trusts me and I can't help him. Every day he looks more haunted and I can't do anything to stop what's happening. Waino's protective charm keeps the evil physically outside the walls but even he can't prevent it from calling to Elias." She thrust her hands toward him in desperation. "A ten-year-old boy shouldn't have to suffer--what can I do?" Leo reached out and clasped her hands. "Don't give up. I promise I'll find a way to confront the night walker and bring an end to this torment." He released her hands, sprang to his feet and strode from the room. Jael stared after him, her feelings mixed. Though she couldn't forgive Leo for what he'd done in the past, she found herself admiring his courage. And, if she were to be completely honest, she'd also been warmed by his touch. By October thirty-first, not a servant remained at Volek House and the family was unable to find anyone willing to work there. Three more "bite deaths", as the newspapers had taken to calling them, had everyone terrified. Bosworth's book was on its way to becoming a best seller and the book had been reviewed in the Los Angeles and San Francisco papers. Their mention of the Volek name and quotes from the relevant pages didn't help matters. Grandfathers of local people told tales of howling at night and horribly mauled bodies. And, though the sheriff who'd been a friend of Sergei Volek was long dead, his second wife was still alive and full of stories about how "those Voleks" paid her husband to close his eyes to unexplained murders. And, as she invariably added, "worse." Living in what felt almost like a state of siege made the adult Voleks more determined than ever to have their Halloween masquerade party for the children. Since no one outside the family had been invited, at least the kids could enjoy themselves for one evening. Jennifer McQuade Evans and her twins would be there from San Francisco, though her husband was at a medical meeting in Chicago and so couldn't make it. Lily McQuade Montrose, near term with her pregnancy, was coming, accompanied by her husband, Clint. Since they lived in the old McQuade house they didn't have far to come--no more than a couple of miles. "For twins, Jennifer and Lily aren't together much," Jael remarked to Samara on Halloween morning as they decorated the entry with orange and black crepe paper.

"Since they were separated at three, they weren't really together as children," Samara said. "Lily lived with her parents in the house the senior McQuades built for them right next to their house at the south end of the valley. Jennifer lived here." Jael remembered what Lily had told her. "Lily said Jennifer burned her when they both were three and that's where her scars came from." Samara sighed. "It's true. Jennifer's a firestarter and when she was a child she couldn't control it. Every time she got angry or frustrated, a fire started. After Lily was burned, Jennifer came to live with us because I found a way to control her. Wolf was finally able to make a shaman journey and bring back that ruby salamander she always wears. It's her amulet. Jennifer and Lily didn't really live together until college. They were quite close then and afterwards. Until lately. Marriage can separate even the closest of twins." Something in Samara's voice made Jael believe when she spoke of marriage she meant more than just Jennifer and Lily. Deciding to ignore that, she went back to the McQuade twins. "Perhaps the scars are what drew Lily and Clint together originally." "I know Lily always believed her scars were much more disfiguring than they actually are. Perhaps she thought no one would want her unless he was as marred physically as she thought she was. As for Clint--well, I hardly know him. He keeps so much to himself that none of us do. You can hardly blame him--everyone wants to avoid the Voleks these days." Later, when Griselda came to help with the decorating, Jael thought she seemed unusually distracted. Finding herself along with Griselda in the living room, she asked what was wrong. "It's the crystal." Griselda's voice trembled. "I told you I uncovered it. Last night I woke and saw it glowing. The only other time the crystal glowed for me was when I saw Arno's face in it--before I met him. So I slipped from the bed and hurried to the table where I keep it. I wish I hadn't." "What did you see in the crystal?" "Volek House. No, that's wrong. I mean I didn’t see Volek House. It was as though I was in a plane looking down--I saw the grounds and the pine grove but the house wasn't there. It was gone, vanished as though it had never been." Griselda shivered. "I was so frightened I woke Arno. But by then the crystal had gone dark again and there was

nothing to see." "What does it mean?" "I wish I knew. Lately I feel hatred and fear all around us--I don't go into Thompsonville to shop any more. What have we done to be so disliked?" Jael spread her hands. "We're Voleks." After a light supper, the children insisted on donning their costumes. Jael straightened Yuba's green-spangled crown and wondered again why her daughter had insisted everything she wore had to be green. "'Cause it's the right color," Yuba had told her when she asked. "I'm the green princess, like you said--don't you remember? I'm the one who's going to find the heart of the forest." Jael blinked in confusion. When had she told Yuba that? Though she often spoke of how the Voleks came from the Russian forests, she didn't recall exactly what she'd said. Yuba's words brought back a bad dream she thought she'd forgotten. Elias had decided to be a ghost. Realizing that to drape a white sheet over him with holes for his eyes and mouth would make it hard for him to bob for apples, Jael had cut the sheet so it went over his head and settled onto his shoulders. The separate white hood she fixed could be easily removed when he played the games. As they were leaving the bedroom, Yuba said, "I feel sorry for Susan up there all alone in the tower. She never gets to have any fun." "You know Susan's afraid to leave the tower room," Elias said. "If you're scared, nothing's any fun." His words struck Jael's heart. Not because of Susan, who'd be sleeping soundly by eight o'clock, but because she knew Elias was talking about himself. Before they reached the stairs, Leo, dressed in buckskins and moccasins, with a feather stuck in his hair, joined them. He was never far from Elias's side these days. Which meant she was thrown together with Leo more than she'd choose to be. "I see one ghost and one green princess," he said. His gaze traveled over Jael's costume. "Do I get three guesses about you?" he asked. "You won't ever, ever guess," Yuba told him. "Do I win something if I do?" Leo looked at Jael as he spoke and she felt herself flush. "Mr. Simmons gives us a gold star," Yuba said, "but I

don't think mama has any." Jael took a deep breath, shaken by what she'd seen glinting for a moment in Leo's eyes. She'd chosen her costume on a whim, partly because she thought it would amuse Elias, then had to spend an inordinate amount of time figuring out how to make it. The color, oddly enough, became her and the flowing lines of the gown concealed her angularity. "I suppose I can find a gold star somewhere if I have to," she said. "You're not a queen or a princess because you don't have a crown," Leo said. "I'm not sure about all those odd little decorations on your dress but I know they aren't feathers so you can't be a bird. I've seen that same color in the sky when the sun sets and sometimes when it rises but you're not either sunset or dawn." By now Yuba was giggling so hard she couldn't walk straight so Leo scooped her into his arms to carry her down the stairs. She adored her father. Once she'd grown past babyhood, Leo had taken an interest in her and they'd become friends. Jael wished he could give the same easy affection to Daniel, his son by Susan. "That's three guesses, sort of," Elias said. "It doesn't count," Leo protested. "I said what she wasn't." "Okay, what is she?" Elias demanded, grinning. "Well, I think the decorations are supposed to be scales," Leo said. "If I'm right, that means she's some kind of fish. Now exactly what is that color? Got it--salmon pink. So she must be a salmon. Right?" "So far," Elias informed him. "You mean there's more? Wait--something's coming back to me. One of those old Finnish tales Grandma Liisi used to tell us when we were little. I remember somebody changing into a salmon." He set Yuba onto her feet in the entry. "Who was it?" After a moment he shook his head. "I can't recall any more." "You got it mostly right," Elias admitted. "She's Aino, who changed into a salmon so she wouldn't have to marry Vainamoinen." Leo nodded. "Yes, now I remember." He glanced at Jael. "Even life as a fish was better than marrying the wrong man. I should have guessed, shouldn't I?" Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to her how he might interpret the reason she'd chosen to dress as Aino. For that matter, why had she chosen the costume? Simply to

amuse Elias? Or was there a darker reason, a hidden urge to get even with Leo? Confused and unhappy, she couldn't meet Leo's gaze. "I wouldn't mind being a salmon," Elias said. "I think fish must feel real safe under the water where no one can see them except other fish." Jael did look at Leo then and saw her worry over Elias reflected in his face. Jennifer's arrival with Anita and Charles broke the tension. Almost immediately, seven-year-old Charles and Daniel, both dressed as pirates, got into a pretend fight with their sharp wooden swords, a fight that became overenthusiastic. Though the protective cork over the sharp tips prevented any real injury, Jennifer confiscated the swords and, by the time the boys were calmed down, it was time for the games to begin. Much later, Lily came in alone, explaining that Clint was parking the car. Shortly after that, Jael noticed that Elias was nowhere in sight and that Leo was also missing. Warning herself not to get alarmed, she checked the two bathrooms downstairs, then Elias's and Leo's rooms and the upstairs bathrooms. No Elias. Or Leo either. A chill slithered along her spine as she gathered up her long skirts and ran down the stairs. Frightened as he was lately, surely Elias wouldn't have gone outside alone. And Leo would never have taken him into the dark. But where else could either of them be? Making up her mind, she hurried to the back door, opened it and stepped into the night. Because he couldn't see very well through the eyeholes, Elias took off his hood and dropped it. Then, after he'd tripped over the sheet twice, he stopped and discarded the rest of his costume. He didn't want to be outside alone in the dark but he'd been compelled to leave the house when the call came, a call stronger and more demanding than in his dreams. Terror-stricken and reluctant, he stepped into the shadows between the pines. He had never liked the grove, even in daylight, and always avoided it. Now he could not. Deep in the pine grove, the caller waited. Elias knew he walked toward death but he was helpless, unable either to stop or to retreat. He climbed over a windfall and, as he jumped down on the other side of the log, he noticed something sickly-white shining to his left, around a small tree. He paused to

stare. Ghostly hands?--paws?--beckoned to him, eerie voices weaved through the demand of the evil caller. Brother, we will help you. Brother, come to us, blend your spirit with ours. Elias gaped at the sickly glow, afraid and uncertain. He comes for you. Hurry, brother! Taking a deep breath, Elias made up his mind. Anything was better than the dark evil. He turned away from the call and ran toward those who claimed him as their brother. Ran to the shining, plunged into it, and grasped the trunk of the little tree. Instantly the call faded and disappeared. A quiver ran through him as he felt a snakelike something slither into his mind, another insidious something creep into his body. We three are one, brother, now and forever. Before Elias had time to understand, he saw the caller and froze in panic. Was the evil one's face truly black or was it a mask? Was he wearing a black cape or were those giant wings? As the thing swooped down on him, he saw sharp, deadly fangs. Clinging to the tree, Elias closed his eyes. When nothing happened, he opened them. The evil was still there, circling him, reaching for him. But, as he finally realized, unable to touch him. His brothers had saved him. Though Leo knew Elias had left the house, he had no idea which way the boy had gone and he wasted precious minutes searching before he found the white hood of the ghost costume near the pine grove. He eased between the trees, hackles raised, aware something dark and evil waited in the grove. He hesitated to call Elias's name, feeling it would do no good. The boy was under compulsion or he'd never have gone outside so it was unlikely he'd be able to answer. Shouting for Elias would only alert the dark one. When Leo spotted the rest of the costume, his lips drew back over his teeth in a snarl of rage. He flung off his buckskin tunic and grasped his amulet in his hand. Dangerous as it was, he had no choice. Jael gasped in horror when, in the moonlight filtering between the pine boughs, she saw Leo, stripped to the waist, yank the leather thong over his head and fling his amulet aside before he tore off the rest of his clothes. She watched, frightened but fascinated, as he shifted, loped deeper into the grove and disappeared from sight. Collecting her courage, she followed him, pausing to

scrabble among the brown needles for the amulet. Leo wouldn't have shifted unless he believed only the beast could withstand the evil that threatened Elias. To her, the beast was almost as terrifying as that evil but, carrying the amulet, she forced herself to go on. Elias, her heart child, needed her. Behind her, she heard a woman's voice screaming a name over and over. "Clint! Clint! Clint!" Was it Lily? Then another woman shouted. Jael plunged ahead, coming to an abrupt halt beside a decaying log when she heard the beast's fearsome growl. To her left a gleam caught her eye but her attention was claimed by the horror in front of her--the beast, confronting a dark, inhuman figure. She was dimly aware that the shouts behind her were louder and closer but her whole being remained focused on the two monsters. So suddenly he seemed a blur in motion, the beast sprang for the dark one's throat. The dark one leaped sideways, soaring into the air. He vanished, reappearing above the beast and swooping down to land on the beast's back. The beast roared in rage, writhing and twisting in an attempt to fling him off. Screaming, Lily burst from between two trees and ran toward the fighting monsters. Jael tried to catch her arm to stop her but Lily evaded her. In doing so, she tripped over the log and sprawled onto the ground, dropping the stick she carried. Jael flung herself to her knees beside the moaning Lily, her gaze still fixed on the struggle. To her distress, darkness seemed to flow over the beast, hiding him from her view. He was losing the battle. "No!" she cried. "No!" "The sword," Lily mumbled, as footsteps pounded up, "take the sword." As Jael tried to make sense of Lily's words, Jennifer loomed above them. "Where is it?" she asked. "I lost it." Lily's voice was barely audible. Jennifer scanned the ground, pounced on the stick Lily had dropped, jumped over the log and ran toward the fight, stick in hand. Before she reached them, the dark evil rose to meet her. The beast, Jael saw with despair, lay motionless on the ground. "Go ahead, loose your fire at me, Jennifer McQuade." The dark one's laugh shivered through Jael. "Your fire may have burned me those many years ago at another party, but I am not the same as I was then. Fire can't touch me. Nothing can touch me. I am invulnerable."

"I know how you've changed." Jennifer spoke calmly but intensely. "What you only posed as then you've now found a way to become. Fire may no longer burn you but fire can and does cleanse a house and all that house contains. Your house. You're doomed. Do you smell the smoke on the night wind, vampire?" Vampire! Even as the word echoed in her mind, Jael realized Jennifer had spoken his true name. The vampire stood motionless for a long moment. Then he smiled, revealing terrible fangs. "Yet you will die before me, Jennifer." He advanced toward her. Jael held her breath. For an instant Jennifer didn't move, then she stepped back with one foot. As he lunged at her, she stepped forward and thrust hard with the stick she'd retrieved, jabbing him in the chest. To Jael's amazement, he flung up his arms, gave a terrible shriek and staggered backwards, the stick protruding from his chest. Jael saw then it wasn't merely a stick but one of the toy pirate swords the boys had carried. As the vampire toppled onto his back, Jennifer's husband--not in Chicago at all--rushed up and rammed the second wooden sword into his chest. The vampire convulsed and lay still. Jael pushed herself to her feet and wobbled on shaky legs to where the beast sprawled on the ground. Kneeling beside him, she draped the leather thong with the amulet over his neck and stroked his furred head. "Leo," she whispered, "please live. I've had enough of being a salmon." Then she looked up and saw a small shining creature walking toward her. Elias, gleaming bright, flickering like foxfire. As she stared at him, speechless, fearing what the glow around him might mean, Elias said, "My brothers found me. They saved me." Head whirling, Jael pictured Waino gesturing toward the unmarked grave in this pine grove where he'd buried the two monsters that had shared Marti's womb with Elias. No one had ever told the boy he was the only survivor of triplets. "The three of us are one now," Elias added. When he smiled she thought she saw tiny pointed teeth in place of his own. Jael fainted.

Chapter 19 By the time the other Volek men arrived, the beast, still alive, had shifted back. First Lily, obviously in labor, then the unconscious Leo were carried to the house where Jennifer and her husband looked after them. Though Jael was dazed and shaken, once she recovered from her faint she was able to walk back unaided, one arm around Elias. Since by then he looked perfectly normal, teeth and all, she convinced herself she'd imagined what she'd seen and heard. Or almost convinced herself. Elias was safe. The vampire lay dead, vanquished. Leo would live. But Lily was dead. For no medical reason Jennifer and her husband could discern, once her baby girl was born, Lily whispered, "Name her Krystal," then shut her

eyes and never opened them again. At dawn, bedraggled and exhausted, the adults sat around the dining room table drinking coffee. "I agree that the vampire seems to be dead," Waino said. "But in order to make certain he can never return, his body must be exposed to the sun before we bury him." No one challenged him. "That was pihlava you used," Waino added. "I should have thought of rowan wood." "One sword was rowan, one ash," Elton Evans corrected. "The references differed so I made one of each, just to be sure." He shook his head. "When Jenny first mentioned vampires to me I thought she'd gone round the bend. But I finally decided nothing else fit what was happening and I began to research the damn things. There's a surprising amount of vampire lore and it was hell trying to dig nuggets of truth from a veritable mountain of superstition." "I don't think Elton was really convinced," Jennifer put in, "until this evening when he used Lily's key to enter their house and went into the basement. After he forced the lock on what Clint called his workroom, he found the long box of dirt where Clint rested during the day." "I had to be sure before I set the place on fire," Elton said. "It's not every day I risk an arrest for arson." He sighed "Poor Lily, she tried so hard to keep believing in him but near the end she found it impossible. That's when she came to Jenny for help." Jennifer bit her lip, glancing at the old kitchen cradle next to the table where newborn Krystal was sleeping. "Lily didn't want to live once she admitted to herself what Clint had become. Oh, God, if only I hadn't called up fire and burned him on that long ago Halloween night." She covered her face with her hands. Elton put an arm around her. "You did it to keep him from raping Lily. How could you know, how could anyone know what he'd eventually become?" He glanced around the table. "How does a man become a vampire?" No one answered. Rather than solving their problems, ending the vampire's reign of terror brought new trouble to the Voleks. The sheriff's office asked probing questions about Clint Montrose's sudden disappearance and his wife's death during childbirth on the same night the Montrose house burned to the ground. Though the sheriff couldn't prove a crime had occurred, local gossip grew more malicious than ever.

No one would work for the Voleks and even the children's teacher, Mr. Simmons, gave notice he wouldn't be able to return after the Christmas holidays. Because it was too difficult to take care of them without help, the family donated most of their livestock to a Catholic orphanage, keeping two cows, one horse and fifteen chickens. The women divided the housework. A thick tule fog ushered in 1948, wrapping the valley in its chill gray shroud for the first three days of January. Nicholas had been planning to fly to San Francisco but the fog made flying impossible. Even driving was dangerous. On the evening of the third the women were gathered around the kitchen table planning the month's schedule of cooking, cleaning and washing when Reynolds came in. "Have you told them?" he asked his wife. Thalia shook her head. "Don't count on Thalia," he said, "because once this damn fog lifts, she'll be coming to San Francisco with me. We'll stay in the McDee suite at the Mark Hopkins until we find the house we want." "You mean you and Thalia are moving to the city permanently?" Samara asked. "Nick, too," Reynolds said. "Why stay in a place where everyone hates you? We'll still have family around--Jennifer and Elton and their kids live in Frisco." Jennifer had taken Lily's baby with them when they left in November, planning to adopt Krystal. "I assume Nicholas will fly up but I imagine you and Thalia will drive," Samara said. Reynolds nodded. "I'd like to send Yuba and Daniel along with you," Samara went on. "Jennifer invited them to spend a week with her twins and I think this is a good time." She glanced inquiringly at Jael. "Yuba and Daniel are both eager to go," Jael said. "Good idea," Reynolds said. "The kids need to get out in the world more. Once Thalia and I are settled we'll invite them all for weekends and show them there's more to life than being shut behind stone walls." Everyone was glad to see the sun the next morning. Since Bren's classes at Stanford resumed in a few days, Beth and Bren left to drive to Palo Alto. It's like an exodus, Jael thought as she returned to the house after seeing them all off. I wonder who'll be next to go?

It wasn't her day to be with Susan or to cook. Her chores were confined to the second floor and, since tomorrow was wash day, included changing the bed linen. She moved methodically from room to room, hesitating only when she reached Leo's. He hadn't been at breakfast nor had he come to wave goodbye to his children, which meant he was probably still sleeping. Glancing at her watch, she shook her head. Ten o'clock, time for him to get up so she could strip his bed and remake it. She tapped on his door. "Come in." Jael entered. Leo, fully dressed, stood by the windows. He turned to look at her. "You took long enough to get here," he said. She did her best to conceal her surprise that he knew she'd been assigned second floor chores today. Why did he always manage to put her off balance? "I take the rooms in order," she said. "How was I to know which end of the hall you'd start from?" Jael shrugged and began to strip his bed, hoping he couldn't tell how agitated she was. No matter how hard she tried to stay calm, cool and collected, she couldn't be anywhere near Leo without her heart pounding. "I've put off saying anything," he began, then stopped. She glanced at him. "About what?" "Us. That night in the pine grove--I'd already started to shift back when you knelt beside me. Groggy as I was, I heard what you said about the salmon." Jael's face flamed. He skirted the bed, grasped her arm and turned her to face him. "You told me then that you wanted me. I'm inclined to be stupid about some things and I know we got off on the wrong foot a long time ago. It's taken me a couple of months to find the courage to admit that I want you, too." His hands gripped her shoulders. "We're getting married. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. And I don't want to hear any nonsense about it." If he hadn't immediately kissed her, making her forget everything but him, she might have argued. But she didn't think so. The rest of the day passed in a daze for Jael. Leo announced their plans at the evening meal and the discussion of where and when the wedding would take place lightened everyone's spirits. That night she tossed restlessly, wishing she hadn't

been so adamant about sleeping alone until they were married. She was still awake when Elias pushed the connecting door all the way open. "What's the matter?" she asked, sitting up. "We have to go outside. Now." He spoke urgently. "But it's after midnight. Why--?" "My brothers told me. Hurry!" He turned toward her door and she realized that he meant to leave the house whether she did or not. She slid from her bed, grabbed a robe, followed Elias into the hall and almost ran into Leo, wearing only pajama bottoms. "I was coming to get you," he said. "Something's wrong, I can feel it." "We've got to go outside," Elias insisted, tugging at her arm. "But why?" Jael cried, looking from him to Leo. "What's wrong?" Leo shook his head. "I don't know. It's just a feeling." "Jody and Victor are downstairs," Elias said. "Come on." Deciding to humor them, Jael said nothing more until they reached the kitchen where they found Jody and Victor opening drawers and cupboards. "What's going on?" Jael demanded. "Griselda came to my room," Jody said, "and told me to get the children out of the house. I woke Vic, then we heard Elias warning you when we went past your room, so I realized he already knew." She pulled a flashlight from a cupboard. "I found one, Vic, let's go." She started for the back door with Victor trailing her. Griselda burst into the kitchen. "I can't make Arno get up!" she cried. "Please help--" Her words were cut off by a grinding roar. The floor lurched under Jael's feet, sending her staggering into Leo, who held her steady. "Earthquake!" he shouted. "Everyone outside!" As he pulled her with him, Jael looked for Elias and saw Leo had him tucked under his other arm. Leo led them over the heaving, shuddering ground to the open field near the barn, ordered them to stay there and ran back for Griselda. Jael forced herself not to scream at him to stay with them where he'd be safer. A moment later she and the others were thrown to the ground by a violent lurch. Without attempting to stand again, she gathered the terrified children close to her,

though she was as frightened as they were. A great rumble and crash all but deafened her. In the thin light from the moon, she stared in horror as huge chunks of rock split away from Volek House and smashed into the ground, sending sprays of dirt high in the air. The tower tipped to one side and fell with an awful grinding crash. Only belatedly did she remember poor Susan must have been inside the tower room. What had happened to those trapped upstairs? To Arno, Ivan, Waino, Cecelia, Samara, and Druse? And how great an area did the quake affect? Jael prayed her daughter and Daniel were safe in San Francisco. As for Leo, she couldn't bear to think he might be dead. Clinging to the children, she watched numbly as Volek House shattered into ruins. Disappearing, just as Griselda's crystal had foretold. If only they'd understood. When Leo came stumbling through the dust, dragging Griselda with him, Jael burst into tears of relief. Later, gathered with the survivors inside the nearly intact barn, Jael tried to soothe the distraught Griselda while, by lantern light, Leo did his best to calm the two terrified cows. Elias, petting a kitten, seemed less disturbed than the other children. "I thought for sure we'd all be killed," Jael heard Jody say to him. "I didn't," Elias said. "My brothers told me a long time ago that if I didn't want to, I wasn't ever going to die." "You don't have any brothers," Victor said. "And everybody dies when they get old." "Just 'cause you can't see my brothers doesn't mean I don't have any," Elias said. "They can see ahead and they tell me what to do." Victor raised disbelieving eyebrows. Before Jael could react to what Elias had said, an ominous shudder ran through the barn. Everyone tensed. The tremor lasted only a few seconds, doing no damage, but it plunged them into fear once again. They spent the rest of the night braced for aftershocks but no more occurred. At dawn, Jael followed Leo, who'd already searched the ruins for survivors with Jody's flashlight and found no one. Her breath caught as she took in the full horror of the destruction. Volek House had been reduced to a pile of rubble. No one who'd been inside could possibly be alive. At midmorning, Rodney McQuade, Jennifer and Lily's

father, who lived at the south end of the valley, rode up on horseback. "My God," he said, surveying what had been Volek House. "It's even worse than I thought when I looked across the valley and didn't see the tower. I tried to get you on the phone but no go, so I rode over. Your house must have sat smack on top of the quake's center. We hardly have any damage--just a few of Tanya's glass ornaments busted, that's about all." He glanced around, frowning, then back at the six of them. "Where are the others?" Leo told him. "Terrible, terrible," Rodney muttered. "Only good thing is so many weren't home." "Was San Francisco hit hard?" Jael asked. He shook his head. "Didn't even feel it, so the radio says. The quake struck mostly in our valley and maybe some in the foothills. First bad one we ever had that I know of. The Indians used to say the giant walked here in the old days--that's what they thought caused quakes. But, say, I'm standing here blabbing like a fool when I ought to be getting you folks over to our place." "The tower landed on the garage," Leo said. "Smashed the cars to hell." Rodney glanced at the corral. "Think that horse of yours has calmed down enough to stand being hitched to the old wagon?" They left the rubble of Volek House behind to jolt across the fields in the wagon. As they neared Rodney's house, they passed the blackened ruins of what had been his parents' home, where Clint and Lily had lived. Jael averted her gaze. They found temporary refuge with Tanya and Rodney while what remained of the Volek place was searched for those who'd died in the earthquake. Little could be recovered. Leo brought back Wolf's old shaman drum and a small brass-studded trunk that had been in the basement room and somehow survived. A week after the funeral for the seven dead--six Voleks and the stalker, Susan--Leo and Jael were married in a quiet ceremony at the McQuades. The next day they flew to San Diego to look for a house for themselves, Griselda and the children. "If it was just the earthquake, I'd be inclined to rebuild," Leo had explained. "But the way everyone's turned against the Voleks, I no longer feel the valley's my home. I

couldn't live in Los Angeles, and I don't want to try San Francisco because I think the family is better off not all clumped together." Jael agreed with the idea of separation and also understood the bitter memories that made him dismiss Los Angeles. After all, she'd been there, too. They found a large house high in the hills north of San Diego, a house that overlooked the Pacific. The view was spectacular and Leo approved of the well-fenced grounds and the absence of near neighbors. Once they were settled, Beth visited and spent hours with each child. Jody, she was sure, was not a shifter and she doubted that Victor was. Yuba might have some as yet undeveloped power but wasn't a shifter. Daniel, she suspected, might be. Stalkers couldn't be predicted ahead of time--at least not by her. "Elias," Beth said, "has changed tremendously. When he was younger I didn't see any shaman potential in him. Now I do. I'd like to begin training him." Jael was distressed by Beth's words. Though he never spoke of his brothers again, it frightened her to admit how different Elias was since the night of the vampire. But she agreed to the shaman training. "On weekends and holidays, only," she added. "Leo and I have made up our minds the children are going to live as much like normal kids as possible. We'll enroll them in private schools and send them to summer camps. Elias as well as the others. Daniel, too, for that matter. We'll worry about him shifting when he gets closer to puberty. As for any of them turning into stalkers--" She shrugged. "We'll deal with that if and when it happens." Griselda, sunk in grief-stricken apathy since Arno's death, found solace in the ocean. She spent long hours pacing along the beaches and basking on the sand. Her only other interest was her grandson, Elias, who was equally fascinated by the ocean. By June of 1955, when he was eighteen, Elias often rose early in order to enjoy the nearly deserted beach with his grandmother. On the fifteenth, shortly after sunrise, they climbed down the precipitous cliff path not far from their house to the strip of sand below. Patches of fog still clung to the shore but it promised to be a warm and sunny day. "I see your professor's waiting for you." Elias gestured toward an older man with his pants legs rolled up

who was walking barefoot along the water line. "He's not my professor." Griselda sounded flustered, Elias thought. "He would be if you wanted him," he said. "And I think you do, only you won't admit it." "I'm too old." Elias grinned at her. "He doesn't think so and neither do I." Her flush amused him. Two years ago he'd discovered that if he put his mind to it, girls were easy to get around. You could do just about anything you wanted to with them once you learned the right technique. He decided he could give the professor a few tips. Guys were harder to con until you learned what their weaknesses were. He could spot a weakness now before he'd known anyone an hour. In addition, almost all guys wanted to be something other than what they were. Girls did, too. Except for Yuba. She liked being herself. He used to tease her about being the green princess but she was growing up and no longer fussed and fumed at him. Almost fifteen, she was already beautiful with her rich coppery hair and clear green eyes. He liked what Yuba was as well as she did. Someday he'd tell her. Someday he'd take her. But she wasn't old enough yet. When they did come together it would be far from ordinary, just as he was far from ordinary. Elias enjoyed being himself, different from anyone else in the entire world. It amused him that no one knew exactly how different he really was. Once they reached the sand, his grandmother set off in the opposite direction to the professor's and Elias followed without comment. "You're quiet this morning," she remarked after a time. "I'm trying to decide how to con you," he said. Griselda chuckled. "Why not just tell me what you want?" "Not to go to Stanford in September. Or to any other university. I've had enough of school. Because I'm a Volek doesn't mean I have to become a college graduate." She was quiet for quite a while but he resisted the temptation to say more. He'd stated his position and, besides, there was power in silence. "What are you planning to do?" she asked at last. He relaxed. Grandma was on his side, as he'd been almost sure she would be. With Jael and Leo hammering away at him, he needed an ally. "Buy a van," he said, "travel and learn what I need to.

Just my guitar and me. Alone." He never was really alone but that was one of his secrets. "I'll help you, if you'll help me," she said. "You're on. What can I do for you?" "Be on my side when I tell Leo and Jael that I'm going to Germany with Nicholas." Elias was dumbfounded. "To Germany? I know that's where you came from but you always said you hated Germany." "My dislike was mixed in with how I felt about my father. But he's long dead and, besides, Nicholas and I aren't going anywhere near where I was raised, our destination is the Black Forest. Nicholas has unfinished business there. I happen to think he needs a German-speaking companion for the journey and, bless him, he didn't argue." "This is just a trip, right?" Griselda shrugged. "Who knows how long Nicholas will stay? Or how long I will? It's what I want to do, Elias. You keep teasing me about the professor and, yes, I know he's interested in me. But the possibility of having an affair with him doesn't excite me nearly so much as going home again." "I thought you were home. Here." Griselda shook her head. "Home was where Arno was. With him gone, this country's no longer home to me." Even as he promised to back her decision to the hilt, Elias hadn't quite mastered his surprise. He'd been sure he understood his grandmother completely but she'd fooled him. Very few people did that. Next time he'd best remember not to take anyone for granted. In 1957, Victor, with a master's degree in business administration, took his place in McDee Industries. The following year, Jody, a research chemist, began working in a McDee sponsored laboratory in San Diego. The same year, Daniel, eighteen, shifted at home one summer's night and almost immediately shifted back when Leo placed the rune-etched amulet from Beth around his neck. He had no problems afterward and went on, with Yuba, to Stanford in September. At the University, the two of them, with their cousins, Anita and Charles Evans, formed a spare-time music group they named The Runes. When, in October, Elias called Yuba to say he'd be in the area near the end of the month, she invited him to sit in with The Runes when they played their first gig. "You mean he agreed?" Anita asked when Yuba told the

group what she'd done. "Elias actually said he'd play?" Yuba nodded. "And for free." "But he's famous," Anita protested. "He's so good he'll make the rest of us sound awful." "He'll draw a crowd, that's for sure," Charles said. "The place'll be jammed." Daniel grinned. "Maybe a little fame'll rub off on us. I don't know about you guys but I'd like to see The Runes go places." Yuba nodded. "We need to become well known. I've thought about it a lot and this group might eventually be our ticket into Russia--as a cultural exchange." "Culture? Us? Three guitars, a bass and so-so voices singing folk songs?" Charles whooped with laughter. Yuba scowled. "How the hell else do we get there? The family has never heard a word from Sara and Zach--we don't know if they're dead or alive. It's up to us to find out--in Russia. And complete the search, if they haven't. But you know and I know it ain't easy to get behind the Iron Curtain." "I'm with Yuba," Daniel said. "It's our duty as Voleks to plan our lives with only one goal in view--Russia. Also, folk songs are part of a culture. And I think we sing better than so-so." "I don't disagree about Russia being our goal," Charles said, "but we sure as hell ain't Elias. The four of us altogether don't have half his charisma. Or talent." Elias arrived at their apartment on a Saturday morning. Since the gig was that night, they'd risen early and were lounging around drinking coffee when he showed up. Greetings over, Elias announced, "I wrote a new song on the way here. We'll do it tonight." They gazed at him, stunned. "Hey, we've got hours to practice," Elias said. "Don't worry, the audience'll love it." "Maybe you ought to do your piece solo," Charles said. Elias shook his head. "This is a Volek song. For all of us. Besides, I've written part of it to be sung by a girl. I'll show you." He opened his guitar case, tuned up and struck a few chords before beginning the song: "My gown is the moonlight so cold, so cold My veil is the white valley mist My dowry a dark tale best left untold If my ruby lips you would kiss, would kiss..." Elias broke off and looked at them.

Everyone applauded. Yuba jumped up and hugged him. "I love it. And I love how you sing from the heart." "The secret is to believe in the words while you're singing," he said, keeping an arm around her. "With this new one it's easy because I wrote it about us. About the Voleks." He let her go to resume playing and sang the rest of the song, ending with: "The mystery within me is dark, that is true I carry a burden of shame But still I have feelings and love just as you I take pride in my family name..." Elias stopped singing but continued to play the melody softly. "I'm giving this song to The Runes for your signature tune," he said. "Every group needs one." The gig was a huge success, the song a smash hit that led to the first record ever cut by the group. Elias stayed on a week, being perfectly charming to those who thronged to meet him. Yuba, completely charmed by him, as she always was, found herself miffed because he didn't pay more attention to her. He kissed her lightly when he left, a cousinly kiss, to her chagrin. "Soon," he whispered into her ear, his warm breath making her shiver with longing. She had no idea what he meant. It wasn't until early in November that Yuba read one of the autographed brochures Elias had given to some of his admirers. "Become one with Elias," the blurb read. "Experience life's greatest marvel with Elias. "You know him, you love him. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, join with Elias for the First Gathering, a celebration of song, an evocation of mystery. You will sing, you will dance and you will-CHANGE." "I sent to the box number he listed in Sacramento for details," her girlfriend, Cindy, told Yuba. "It sounds just super. I can hardly wait for Thanksgiving." "Where's the concert?" Yuba asked. "Oh, it's not a concert, it's a Gathering. Everyone participates, that's what's so exciting. And it's not in some dreary theater or even a bowl, it's in the foothills, near some ancient ruins." "I didn't know we had any ancient ruins in California," Yuba said. "Well, you're wrong. See, it says so right here." Cindy shoved a pamphlet in front of Yuba and read: "...ancient family ruins..."

Yuba blinked. No, she thought. He wouldn't. She took the paper from Cindy and scanned the directions for getting to the site. "...near the small town of Thompsonville..." She stared in disbelief, the word he'd capitalized in the brochure taking on sinister connotations. What in God's name did he mean by CHANGE? In the ruins of Volek House. Had Elias gone mad?

Chapter 20 Yuba stared at the distant peaks of the Sierras, their snow-capped tops reddened by the setting sun, and wondered if Daniel was right. She could be making far too much of Elias's "Gathering." "Poor Little Fool" was playing on the car radio, Daniel singing along with Ricky Nelson as he drove. Daniel had taken one look at Elias's brochure and laughed. "Smart man--he probably made sure to give the brochures to the best looking chicks. They'll get changed all right. Should be a fucking great weekend--for him, anyway." "Do you really think sex is all he has in mind?" she'd asked. Daniel had grinned. "What else is there? I'm planning to major in it, myself." Yuba knew her half-brother's conquests were numerous. Her cousin Charles, too, seemed more interested in girls than classes. Was Elias as hepped on sex as they were? Since she wasn't a male, she couldn't be sure. Still, it seemed to her that, even if he was, Elias could have any girl he wanted without the slightest effort. His tan skin and blonde hair were striking enough--add talent, charisma and fame and Elias was a knockout combination. God knows she felt it. Especially when he sang. Nothing to be embarrassed about. He might be a cousin but not a first cousin, after all. Anyway, she'd always had a secret yen for Elias. Anita, going steady with a pre-law student, had confided to Yuba that there was nothing more wonderful than sleeping

with the man you loved. Maybe. But so far she'd never been tempted. Sex just to say you'd done it didn't interest her and she wasn't quite sure what love was. At the moment she was more concerned about The Runes improving and refining their talents than she was about herself. They'd have to be a hell of lot better than they were now if they meant to use the group as a possible ticket into the USSR. She thought a few more musicians might help but she hated to go out of the family to find them. Static drowned Ricky Nelson's voice as they outdistanced the station's range. Daniel stopped singing and flicked off the radio as he turned off the main highway onto the county road leading to Thompsonville. "The overflow's bound to prove interesting," he said. "Elias can't screw them all." She grimaced. "Get your mind above your belt for once and answer my question. Why did he choose the ruins of Volek House?" Daniel shrugged. "Atmosphere, maybe. Why worry about it? We'll find out tonight." He frowned. "You going to be all right? I can't tell exactly what Elias has in mind--this could turn into an orgy." "I still remember Bren's speeded-up T'ai Chi Ch'uan defense moves, if that's what you mean." "Look, I'll stick with you until I'm sure there won't be trouble. But yell if you need help. Okay?" As they came closer and closer to the ruins, Yuba tensed with mingled anticipation and uneasiness. Neither she nor Daniel had been back since the earthquake ten years ago. They'd gone from Aunt Jenny's in San Francisco directly to their new home in San Diego. Since she hadn't seen the destruction with her own eyes, it was hard for her to believe Volek House was no more. They topped a rise and she looked down at the valley. The setting sun touched the remnants of old orchards and groves with its ruddy rays. But the tower of Volek House no longer thrust above the trees. The stone castle was gone, vanished as though it had never been. She blinked to ward off tears. They descended into the valley, passed cars clustered in a field and swung into the rutted private drive. Massive iron gates leaned drunkenly from stone gate-posts. As Yuba gazed at the snarling marble wolves atop each post, chilling childhood memories surfaced. The mysterious woman who lived in the tower. The woman who was Daniel's mother. Yuba had never seen her.

The frightening Halloween when Krystal was born. Krystal's mother and father died that night, the father in some awful manner. A taboo topic the adults never spoke of. The car bumped along a weed-choked drive beneath the branches of giant valley oaks. Daniel was forced to stop when heavy undergrowth blocked the road; Yuba reached for the door handle. "Wait," Daniel said. "I want to turn around so we're facing out." As they left the car, she smelled wood smoke. A camp fire? The sky darkened as they picked their way through the brush in the thickening dusk, climbing over rubble until the beckoning gleam of flames and the murmur of voices led them toward what appeared to be a cleared space. Yuba pushed through the last of the bushes and halted, staring. Stones from the ruins had been piled together to create a massive throne, an empty throne. Other stones formed a low, gigantic ring, enclosing the fire and those gathered around it. There was no way to enter the ring except by climbing over the wall of stones. "I think this area was once the circular drive in the front of the house." Daniel's voice was subdued, leading Yuba to believe he was as taken aback as she at the strange scene before them. Why this elaborate set-up? What did Elias have in mind? She hadn't told any of the adults about his Gathering because it seemed like tattling. Now she wondered if she should have. Though she hadn't noticed him coming, all of a sudden Elias appeared on the wall in front of them. She stood transfixed, gazing at him. Standing above her on the stones, he seemed larger than life. A thrill of expectation tingled through her when his gaze fastened on her. He'd never looked at her quite like this. Was hungrily the right word? "Cousin Yuba, come to join me," he drawled. "How fortuitous. And here's Cousin Daniel as well." He bowed slightly and made a sweeping gesture inviting them to enter the ring. Theatrical but innocuous enough. Why then was the hair prickling on her nape? "Well?" Daniel said when she hesitated. "You're the one who talked me into this trip." Yuba walked slowly toward the ring of stones, somehow aware that nothing could keep her from Elias. She'd been meant to come here from the beginning. As soon as she was close enough, Elias reached down for

her hand to help her up and over. As he was about to touch her she almost jerked away, overcome by the strange sensation she was offering him more than her hand, more than she realized. Moments later both she and Daniel stood inside the ring of stones with about fifty others--more women than men, she realized, and none over twenty-five. Elias had deserted them. She looked for him and saw him leaping up the stone steps onto the throne with his guitar slung around his neck. He struck a few chords and began to sing, his voice embracing the audience much as the ring did. "He's got a mike up there and speakers strategically planted," Daniel muttered. "I can't even spot the wires. Clever." The song was "Tom Dooley," a ballad everyone knew, and Elias encouraged the audience to sing with him. He segued into one familiar folk song after another, everybody singing along and enjoying themselves. When he intoned, "Repeat what I say, repeat after me," while continuing to strum the guitar softly, even Yuba was seduced into obeying. At first. She got as far as repeating, "I want to change. Show me the way," before she realized what she was doing. She stopped chanting and glanced at Daniel, who'd been beside her, and found he'd moved away to stand beside a pretty girl with a tumbled mass of dark hair. They both were repeating Elias's words. Soon Elias had everyone chanting, "Change! Change! Change!" Yuba, though feeling left out, resisted the temptation to join them. Elias began a new song, one she'd never heard before. Against her will, the melody captivated her. The words, speaking of love, of longing, of a coming together that was wondrous beyond imagination, created a need within her, a yearning to know love, to experience what Elias's song promised. What Elias promised. She found herself walking toward the throne, toward him, and tried to stop but she couldn't break the spell his voice cast over her. Other women drifted in the same direction. He continued to sing, urging, seducing, until she reached the base of the throne. The song ended but the music went on weaving its magic and she heard her name threaded between the notes. She was the only one invited. Yuba climbed the stone steps, her gaze on Elias. How magnificent he was. Master of all. And he'd chosen her.

She and she alone was the chosen one. An expectant delight heated her blood. He promised her more than life itself. With Elias she'd experience everything there was or ever could be. Elias stopped playing and shouted, "Change!" The word echoed from the hills, assaulting those who listened. He grasped her hand and drew her to his side, turning her so she looked down at those below. She felt no surprise to see a pack of beasts rutting with one another. Hadn't the Master ordered them to change? Elias set aside his guitar. His arms enfolded her. His kiss burned like a brand, marking her for all time as belonging to him. Passion flowed hot as fire through her veins and she abandoned herself to his lovemaking, eager to be a part of him, to make him a part of her. Unyielding rock lay beneath her but she was immune to her surroundings. Clothes cast aside, the touch of his bare skin against hers excited her beyond bearing. Only Elias existed and she was his. Forever. A crimson curtain swept over her, sudden and obliterating as a tule fog. Wrapped inside it, she could feel nothing, hear nothing except the commanding whisper inside her head. I have other plans for you, blood of my blood, plans that do not include this Volek spawn. He cannot have you; he has intruded on what is mine. Push him away. You can. You will. With my help you are stronger than you know. Push him away and leave this place. Now. Yuba struggled against the command, fought to be mistress of her own will. Fought to return to the man she loved more than herself. Do as I tell you! The voice lashed her mind, whipping to shreds her feeble attempt to disobey. Who are you? another voice demanded. Elias's voice. In her head. Speaking to She who commanded. Rage that didn't belong to her zigzagged through Yuba, thrusting her into action. Aware, yet not in control of what she did, Yuba shoved Elias aside and jumped to her feet. When he tried to grab her she twisted into a T'ai Chi Ch'uan position--Golden Cockerel Stands On One Leg--and, moving swiftly, kicked him in the stomach, flinging him backwards. She swooped to retrieve her clothes, leaped down the stone steps of the throne, vaulted over the low wall and ran for the car. Once inside, she jerked her wallet from the rear pocket of her jeans, extracted the spare key and jammed it into the ignition.

When she reached the main highway, Yuba drove north. She was halfway back to Palo Alto before the compulsion to flee left her and she was in control of herself again. Only then did she realize all she had on were her bikini panties. As she yanked her teeshirt over her head, grief twisted her heart. She'd lost Elias. Then she remembered Daniel and guilt overwhelmed her. Yet she couldn't go back. She didn't know who she was more afraid of, the witch or Elias. Both of them had claimed her, the witch completely against her will. But Elias's strangeness frightened her, too. He, as well as the witch, had invaded her mind. She needed time to sort out her feelings for him. She'd heard about the witch all her life, heard how her mother was haunted by the fear the witch would return to possess her, mind and body. "I'm frightened for you, too," Jael had said more than once. "Frightened that she'll come to you one day and force you to obey her destructive commands." It wasn't as though she hadn't believed her mother's repeated warnings but she'd never really worried about it happening to her. No one, she'd felt, could control her. She'd been wrong. Putting distance between herself and Elias might keep her from falling under his spell again, but the witch could find her anywhere. At any time. She'd never feel safe again. "Mama," she whispered, "Oh, mama, I'm so scared." Her mother was hundreds of miles away and she was driving in the opposite direction. Besides, her mother couldn't do anything about the witch. No one could. But poor Daniel needed to be rescued from the terrible Gathering. Had he actually turned into a rutting beast with the others in the circle or had it been Elias's control of her that made her believe she saw beasts? Who in the family might be able to rescue Daniel from Elias's Gathering? Not Anita. Or Charles. Of the adults, the only person who knew Elias well was her mother. And maybe Beth, because of the shaman training she'd given him. Yuba doubted that either of them realized how dangerously Elias had changed, but she had to do something. Her mother's only weapon was her love for Elias. Yuba shook her head. Love wasn't the answer. She loved him and yet she feared him, too. She decided to drive to Beth's. Beth reached the ruins of Volek House near dawn and parked near the private drive. Gathering Wolf's shaman drum

and a sable pouch containing other journey necessities, she left the car and marched along the overgrown drive toward the ring of stones Yuba had described, the sorcerer's ring. Her original shock at Yuba's story had quickly changed to anger at Elias for twisting the shaman knowledge she'd taught him, using it as a tool to trap and manipulate the innocent. Now fear for him was mixed with her anger for she knew he tampered with power he didn't completely understand, power that could be fatal even to a skilled shaman. Elias had the ability to become a shaman but he'd never taken his initial journey. Unless and until he did, he was as dangerous to himself as he was to his victims. Much as she loathed and feared the malevolent spirit who'd challenged her on her next to last journey to the underworld, Beth had to admit the witch had saved Yuba from Elias's meddling. For her own sinister purposes, no doubt. But, for the moment, Yuba was safe. Unlike those still inside the ring. Beth couldn't enter that ring without Elias's invitation but she had no intention of asking him for one. Rather than being invited inside the ring, she meant him to come to her. Sighting the stone ring, Beth skirted it until she reached the pine grove on the other side. There she stopped and, with a pine branch, carefully swept aside the brown and dried needles until she came to bare earth. Opening the sable pouch, she took out the blue silk rug that had been inside the brass-studded trunk saved from the quake. She sat in the center of the rug, facing the throne, and fitted on a deerskin head band decorated with wolf teeth. Then she pulled on wristlets hung with bells and took up the drum. Removing a human thigh bone from the sable bag, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. Hear me, spirit of my master. I did as you ordered and preserved a part of you, this bone I now hold. I use your bone with deep reverence, oh spirit. Opening her eyes, she slipped into the proper breathing pattern, focusing on nothing but her inner self. After a time, without her conscious will, her arm holding the bone rose and came down. Bells jingled as the head of the femur fell lightly on the skin covering of the drum. She might not be able to cross over the stones but her monotonous, steady drumbeats, accompanied by the faint tinkling of the bells, slipped through the sorcerer's circle. Occupied with the girl writhing beneath him, Elias didn't hear the drum until its compelling rhythm had already

settled into his bones. Because he was so near climax he had to struggle to pull free. He leaped to his feet, ignoring her moaning pleas and the insistent throbbing of his own body as he searched for the drummer who summoned him. Though the sound was subtlely different, he knew the drum and therefore the drummer. There she was, in the grove. He'd been aware he was running a risk. But, because he needed to bind Yuba to him for all time, he hadn't cared. He would have completed the binding if that damned witch hadn't interfered. In his heart he'd suspected Beth would come to confront him once she discovered what he was doing. But he was damned if he'd go to her. And yet he found himself slowly descending the rock steps until he stood on the ground. Brothers? he asked silently. They didn't answer him. Brothers, help me! he demanded. We can do nothing; you must answer the call, they told him. He discovered they spoke the truth. No matter how hard he tried to keep from walking toward her, the drumbeats drew him irresistibly toward their source. Giving up the fight, he ran to the wall and vaulted to the top. For a moment he stood staring at her, then he jumped down, outside the circle. Beth's eyes seemed to look at him but he knew she didn't see him, though she was aware of his presence. He tried to speak but no words came. Slowly, inexorably, the drum drew him where he had no wish to go--onto the shaman rug that covered the shadow hole, the entrance to another world. Whether he wished to go or not, she was forcing him to the place he'd always dreaded. Naked and alone, without any shaman garb, he was about to make his first journey into the underworld. He was defenseless. Except for the weapon she knew nothing of. His brothers. Providing they'd be able to help him in that strange and dangerous place. Suddenly the pine grove and everything familiar vanished. He stood by himself on the bank of a dark, swift flowing river. He remembered Beth's words when she was training him: "You must cross this hellish river and yet you can't cross until you're a proven shaman. Until the flesh is boiled from you to discover whether or not you have the extra bone, the magic bone." Elias was aware that only his shadow soul stood on this underworld river bank but it felt as though his body was here

as well. The body soon to be flung into a kettle and boiled. He shuddered. His brothers had warned him he lacked the magic bone. His talent and his power came from the three of them united, not from himself alone. He could never be a shaman. A silvery mist coalesced beside him. Silver eyes stared at him. He knew it was Grandmother Liisi's spirit, knew, too, that she saw the truth. Three-That-Are-One, you cannot return to your world, she warned him. Here, you will die in the kettle unless you use what power you have to save yourself. You have little time for already they come for you. The mist thinned, drifted away and was gone. Elias, shivering, stared into the dark river, wondering just how the hell he was supposed to save himself. There was little use to plead with his brothers because they were as anxious as he to escape death and would certainly help him if they could. Why had he, with their encouragement, courted doom by misusing his talent? He stared at the seething waters of the river, aware it was far too late for regrets. Hell's River, Waino had called it. River of Tuonela, the Finnish word for death's dark domain. He wished his grandfather was here to help him. A name sprang into his mind. Aino. The reluctant maiden from one of the old tales Waino used to tell him. Too bad he didn't have Aino's ability. Brother, we share you thought. We look for a way. Elias sprang to attention. Was there hope after all? A shimmer of movement caught his attention, something drifting toward him. Coming for him. To boil him. Aino changed into a fish, his brothers told him. So can you. It was no good to ask how, that was up to him. He closed his eyes and pictured himself as very small, sitting on his grandfather's lap listening to the story of Aino and Vainamoinen told in Waino's sing-song voice, sometimes in English, sometimes in Finn. As a child he'd always imagined the maiden Aino hadn't become an ordinary fish but had changed into a woman-sized salmon, big as Jael. Now he'd make an even larger fish, a huge silvery salmon, strong and smart and vicious enough to take on anything in Hell's River. Find your body. Quick! Obeying his brothers without question, Elias reached for his body, following the silvery connecting cord, searching,

searching. Finding. Not slipping into it for he could not. But, with his brothers' help, bringing the body with him back and back and back, changing the body as he traveled. With a great splash, a gigantic salmon dived into the sinister waters of Hell's River. Beth's drumming stopped abruptly. Elias's body, stretched out on the rug beside her, was gone, vanished into thin air. She didn't understand what could have happened. If he failed the shaman test, his shadow soul would die in the underworld. Here, his body would also die, but would remain in this world. It was impossible for him to have reentered his body without her knowledge. The body itself was powerless if missing the shadow soul--it couldn't move, much less run off. Where had the body gone? The sound of many babbling voices--some cursing, some shouting--drove her to her feet. A few of those inside the sorcerer's ring were already climbing over the stones, released from their compulsion to remain inside. Whatever had happened to Elias, he was gone from this world or his spell would have remained intact. Hastily Beth returned the rug, headband and bells to the sable pouch, tucked the drum under her arm and hurried toward the car. Once she'd stowed the shaman gear safely, she'd come back and look for Daniel. She'd rescued him and the others from Elias's fearful Gathering but, in the doing, somehow she'd lost Elias for all eternity.

Chapter 21 Yuba leaned against a wall in the Moscow Intourist lounge, the special air terminal room for foreigners, and wondered if the other six members of The Runes were feeling as disoriented as she was. The Aeroflot flight from New York had been long, Moscow time wasn't their time and every sign they saw was written in those strange Cyrillic letters. Most of them had mastered enough phonetic Russian to get by, but none of them knew the Russian alphabet. Worse, after all their time and effort, the Moscow airport might well be the end of their journey--this far and no farther. Any time now that official who'd scanned every passport and then taken their visas would check the visas against his original list and realize one of the names was different. It had taken seven years for The Runes to become wellknown enough to get on a USSR cultural exchange list and five years more before they were accepted. Unfortunately they'd had to replace one member of the group a little over four months ago. The change had been okayed by Washington but the Soviets hadn't replied yes, no, or maybe--they hadn't said anything. The group's contact in Washington had finally decided to allow them to make the trip but warned they might have a problem once they reached Moscow. "You may think Washington red tape is endless," he'd told them, "but you haven't seen anything yet. Good luck." The lounge door opened and a slim dark-haired woman in a gray uniform entered. Not only was she attractive but something about her looked vaguely familiar although Yuba was sure she'd never seen her before. "Privyet," the dark haired woman said. "Hello. You are the Americans, The Runes?" She couldn't have missed that they all wore tags with the group's name pinned to their jackets but Yuba politely said, "Da."

"I am Tara Domevich, your guide and interpreter." The Russian woman spoke English with only a slight accent. "If you will follow me, please." They trailed after her, Yuba in the lead. For years now she'd been the group's unofficial spokesperson and leader, mostly because no one else wanted the job. To Yuba's relief, Tara settled them in a small room with enough seats so all seven of them could sit down. She was exhausted. "There is some confusion with the visas," Tara said. "I'm sure they're all in order," Yuba told her. "The names, they are not the same," Tara said. "Perhaps you can explain." Yuba took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The Soviet Embassy in Washington was notified that we've replaced one member of the group since our original application was filed." "Ah." Tara nodded. "You will tell me the new name, please." "Mac--that is Raymond McElroy--replaced Anita Evans. The rest of us are the same. Krystal and Charles Evans, Yuba, Daniel, Francine and Shan Volek." "Why was this replacement?" Tara asked. Keep your cool, Yuba warned herself. "Anita Evans got married and pregnant, in that order. We need a flute-player for many of our songs so we found ourselves another flautist." "Which of you is he?" Eighteen-year-old Mac rose to his feet, smiled at Tara, bowed and sat down again. "Thank you. I will return." Tara strode from the room. They slumped in the chairs, too tired to talk. Yuba was dozing when Tara finally came back. "The problem is solved," she said. "Come, I will take you to the Intourist Hotel." Two days later, their successful Moscow concert at the Variety Theater behind them, Tara shepherded them aboard the train to Leningrad. By now Charles was doing his charming best to seduce their guide and Yuba was amused to notice that Tara, while not overtly rejecting him, made certain she was never alone with Charles. "Give up, cuz," Yuba advised him. "Could be your line only works with the home gals. Besides, I think she prefers Mac." Charles snorted. "That'd be robbing the cradle--Tara's

my age, thirty, or close to it." "Maybe she's mothering him, then." Yuba gestured toward Tara and Mac, seated together, deep in conversation. "Or else trying to make sure we're not palming off a secret agent on her." "If Tara was older," Krystal put in, "or Mac younger, they could almost pass for mother and son. Haven't you noticed how much they look alike?" Yuba realized Krystal was right. All the Voleks had Russian genes, of course, but Mac wasn't a Volek. She'd met him for the first time four months ago. The Runes were on an eastern seaboard concert tour when he'd come up to her in New York and handed her an envelope. "If you ever need another flautist," he'd said, "my name, address and phone number are in there. And I'm good." One or another of the group were always being handed names and addresses for all sorts of reasons. There wasn't a trash can handy so Yuba tucked the envelope into her purse, planning to chuck it later, but she'd forgotten. Two nights after that, just before they were due to leave for Boston, Anita announced she wasn't going along but was flying home to her husband instead. "Sorry," she'd said. "Much as I hate to leave you in the lurch, I just can't take even one more concert. This pregnancy's making me so nauseated that sooner or later I'm going to vomit on stage." Yuba remembered the guy who'd handed her the envelope and, in desperation, figured he was worth a try. She called Mac, he was at the hotel in less than an hour, they listened to him play and took him on. Thinking about it now, she realized she actually didn't know very much about Mac except that he was as good on the flute as he'd claimed. He'd said his parents were dead and he was on his own but that was about all. It was certainly possible he had Russian ancestors. "Mac's never talked that much to me," Krystal added. "He doesn't ever talk to me," Francine chimed in. "Not since I asked him if he'd registered for the draft before he joined us. I don't think he did." Francine and Romel, Thalia and Reynold's twenty-twoyear-old twins had been very close and Francine hadn't yet gotten over Romel being drafted and sent to Viet-Nam. "Hey, lay off, Mac's all right," Shan said. "And he's a damn sight better on the flute than Anita ever was." Yuba smiled at Shan, the living image of his mother, Beth. It had always amazed her how different his brother,

Juha, looked--as Chinese as Bren. At twenty, Shan had been the youngest of the group until Mac joined them. Of the original Runes, only she, Daniel and Charles were left--old timers at thirty. Soon they'd be over the hill. But, damn it, they had gotten The Runes to Russia. The Voleks had finally returned to the land of their ancestors. As nearly as Yuba could pinpoint the location from listening to the tales Reynolds remembered hearing from Wolf and her mother's recollection of what Waino had said, the Voleks originated somewhere in the forests near what was now the Finnish border. Near where St. Petersburg--now Leningrad-had been built. Her task was to persuade Tara they needed to renew themselves by visiting the wilderness northeast of Leningrad. But that would have to wait until after the concert in the city. Yuba had taken Moscow in stride but when Tara led them on a walking tour of Leningrad its beauty caught at her very soul. From the impressive gilt-winged cast iron gryphons on Bank Bridge to the massive grandeur of the Winter Palace, everything fascinated her, demanding more attention than she had to spare. Though they'd missed the white nights of mid-June when the sun never sets except for a half hour of twilight, July offered almost as many daylight hours. The lack of true night plus so many magnificent vistas kept Yuba off balance. She even found the aging Hotel Evropeiskaya, where they stayed, charming. "Some call Leningrad the City of Bridges," Tara had told them in advance, "and some the City of Islands." Yuba saw why. Multiple bridges spanned the Neva, a wide river forking through the city and connected by numerous canals. The many waterways created islands much as the Hudson River and its branches made an island of Manhattan. And, like Manhattan, Leningrad was situated on a large body of salt water, the Gulf of Finland. On the day of the first concert, Yuba left the hotel for an early morning stroll only to find Tara at her side. It was difficult to get away from their guide so Yuba accepted her presence. Tara led her to the memorial of the city's founder. On an enormous block of granite, Peter the Great faced the Neva, his right hand pointing at the river. Staring at the imposing statue of Peter, whose rearing horse trampled a serpent, Yuba regretted that the city's name had been changed

from St Petersburg. Peter had created magnificence when he planned and built his city. "The horse is Russia," Tara said, "and the serpent represents the forces that were opposed to the reforms of Peter the First. There are always those who resist progress." Yuba shrugged. More of the party line. They were all tired of hearing it, but she supposed Tara wouldn't be trusted to be an Intourist guide if she weren't a good Communist. She also saw her chance to twist Tara's words and use them for her own purposes. "I'm not against progress," she said, "but there are times when I long to go back to a simpler time." She gave Tara what she hoped was a disarming smile. "In fact, all of us Runes feel that way--that's why we choose old folk tunes for our music." "We, too, appreciate the music of the people," Tara said. Yuba nodded. "I could tell that by the enthusiastic response in Moscow. When an audience applauds from the heart we really do give our all for them. If the people of Leningrad like us as well as those in Moscow, I'm afraid we'll be exhausted after the second concert. At home we go into the wilderness and camp for a few days afterwards, letting nature renew us. There's healing under the trees." Tara was silent for a time. "I understand," she said at last, so softly Yuba scarcely heard her. "Perhaps something can be arranged." A moment later she pointed out a trim gray cruiser, bristling with guns, sailing on the Neva past Peter's statue. Armed progress, Yuba thought cynically. That night's concert at the Komsomol Theater was a footstomping success. "Big Bad John" proved to be the favorite, especially after The Runes sang the words in Russian the second time around. Its success surpassed even the Russian folk tunes they played. Riding back to the hotel afterward in the Intourist van, Yuba found herself sitting next to Tara. "I find myself most moved by the song you sing at the end of the concert," Tara said. "Here, as you did in Moscow. The words about the mystery, the burden of shame--" To Yuba's surprise, Tara's voice broke. Their guide usually presented such a blank facade that she seemed emotionless. "It's our theme song." Yuba spoke reluctantly, reminded anew of Elias, who'd composed both words and melody. She'd

never forgotten him; she never would. In a way she didn't understand, he'd become a part of her, keeping her from taking or wanting any other lover. Keeping her a virgin. At thirty. Yet she knew he was gone beyond recall. Not dead but lost to this world forever, as Beth had described it. "It is, perhaps, a family song?" Tara persisted, her voice now under control. "In a way." Yuba had no intention of revealing anything more than she had to. "A family member wrote it." "One of you?" Yuba shook her head. "The name Volek," Tara said. "It is Russian. Wolf, it means." "I know." Yuba hoped her cool and terse reply would discourage Tara. Another silence. "We will travel to Lake Onega after tomorrow," Tara said at last. "There, on the Island of Kizhi, is the most ancient inhabited site in Russia. I think you may find this of interest." Was she imagining it, Yuba wondered, or did Tara emphasize the last sentence? After the second concert in Leningrad, The Runes attended a party in their honor at the Vostochnyi Restaurant. Vodka flowed freely but they were not heavy drinkers. Krystal, Shan and Daniel, controlled shifters, never touched alcohol. Charles, after his traumatic discovery that he was a stalker and the painful training sessions in which Beth taught him to submerge his urge to kill shifters, rarely touched anything more than a single drink, usually beer or wine. Yuba and Francine by choice also limited themselves to one glass of wine. So only Mac tried to match the Russian vodka drinkers. And failed ignominiously. After midnight, seeing how near he was to passing out, Yuba tried to steer him from the restaurant. "Don' wanna go," he mumbled, resisting her. The Russian man next to him grinned and poured Mac's glass full of vodka. Mac reached for it. Tara hand swooped down, intercepting him. "Dastatichna!" she hissed at her compatriot. "Enough!" She gripped Mac's elbow. "Up," she ordered. Yuba took hold of his other arm and the two of them got Mac on his feet and outside into the lingering twilight of the northern summer. The moon, close to full, looked odd in

the still-light sky. To her distress, Mac, noticing the moon, flung back his head and howled. "Stop that!" she snapped. He laughed. "Jus' like m' grandpa, pa always said. Like a g'damn wolf." Aware of Tara's curious gaze, Yuba tried to disguise the chill that shuddered through her. "In American slang," she said, trying to be casual, "a man who runs after women is called a wolf." That must be what Mac meant, after all. Mac pulled away from both of them, staggered a few feet, then turned to face them, one arm thrust forward, his forefinger waving from right to left as he made the guttural childhood imitation of a machine gun's noise. "Mowed 'em down. 'S what grandpa did for a living." Yuba marched up to him, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "That's quite enough, Mac." She glanced at Tara. "Will you help me get him to his room?" Tara shook her head. "Mac's not going to his room. None of us are. We leave Leningrad tonight. The van is packed with camping gear--we'll put him there. I'll watch over him while you bring the others." "But our belongings are--" Tara cut her off. "Are safe. If you wish to find what you seek in the woods, we must leave now." Yuba stared into Tara's dark eyes. What did this Russian woman mean? What should she do? "Trust me." Tara's whisper was barely audible. She turned, detached Mac from the lamp post he clung to and strode off, pulling him with her. Yuba walked slowly back to the others, her mind in chaos. Though Yuba wasn't certain what either of them meant, Tara's request was as disturbing as Mac's drunken revelations. Still, whatever reason Tara might have for her amazing offer, wherever she was taking them, Yuba knew they'd go with her. She'd seen enough of the USSR to understand foreigners couldn't simply slip away on their own without serious consequences. However slim it might be, Tara was offering them a chance of sorts and it might be the only possibility of finding what they'd come for. Boris, the man who'd been their Leningrad chauffeur, was gone--Tara drove the van. She insisted that Yuba sit in the seat next to her and ordered Francine to keep an eye on Mac who was sprawled on the floor between the seats. "Tell me immediately if Mac wakes or--" Tara paused.

"Or if he acts in any way differently," she said at last. Ignoring where the others sat, Tara pulled away from the parking area and drove through the city and beyond, to the northeast. The next morning, dazed from too little sleep, they took a boat to Kizhi, a treeless island in Lake Onega. The island's ancient onion domed churches of the Transfiguration and the Intercession and an unadorned bell tower, all fashioned of wood joined without nails, were beautiful and intriguing. But it wasn't the churches that made the hair on Yuba's neck prickle. Something about Kizhi spoke to her but she couldn't determine what it was. "Long before the churches were built, this island was a pagan center." Tara's words were directed at Yuba. Why would Tara believe that she'd care about the island's history? She didn't. And yet perhaps she should, perhaps pagan was a key word. "There are no trees here." Yuba's words sprang from her without thought. "Once trees grew on this island. Pine, birch, larch, fir. The trees of the northland. After most of the trees were cut down, those who lived here in early times found sanctuary elsewhere. In the deep woods. Where next we go. But I thought you must set foot on Kizhi first. To understand." After they returned to the mainland, Francine caught Yuba's arm, keeping her from climbing into the van. "Did you feel the vibes on that island?" she demanded. At first surprised at Francine's words, Yuba decided she shouldn't be. Francine was Thalia's daughter and Thalia was a witch. Why shouldn't Francine have inherited her mother's sensitivity to the earth? "I felt something," Yuba admitted. "Yeah, but what?" "I wish I knew." Tara drove along a nearly deserted road, passing nothing but a few lonely dachas with their distinctively carved window frames and then only swamps and trees. At last she turned from the highway onto a narrow overgrown track that soon deteriorated into two ruts and finally ended in what must have once been a clearing. Since then a grove of young birches had sprung up, their graceful white trunks and pale green leaves a contrast to the huge and dark evergreens surrounding them. Yuba's murmured, "How lovely," earned a smile from Tara. "The birch is our national tree," Tara said. "But what

we seek is not here. We must travel deep into the pines." Yuba sympathized with the chorus of groans that rose from the others. She was exhausted. "I've never been so tired in my life," Krystal complained. "Nevertheless, we must go on." Tara opened the van door and climbed out. Mac, still miserably hung over, stumbled from the van and leaned on a fender, squinting his eyes against the sunlight. "I'll never drink another drop of vodka," he mumbled. "You must hold to your vow." Tara spoke sharply. "It's not safe for one such as you to drink alcohol; you must keep your mind clear at all times." Mac swallowed convulsively, staring at her while Yuba tried to decipher the meaning of Tara's warning. One such as Mac? What on earth did Tara believe he was? She was afraid to ask. After they all shouldered either backpacks or rolled sleeping bags, Tara led the way into the shadowed green under the pines. Larches and firs, too, Yuba supposed, though she wasn't able to identify either kind of tree other than knowing they were evergreens. She seemed to breath in renewed energy along with their aromatic scent. They walked for so long that Yuba fell into a waking doze and was jolted to complete awareness only when Tara stopped and announced, "Here will be our camp." Excitement blossomed in Yuba as she looked about her at the ancient trunks of the trees. Interlaced boughs shut out much of the light, shrouding them in green gloom. Even among the towering California redwoods she'd never been in a forest that seemed so beyond time. "The moon is up." Daniel spoke softly. "And full." He and every other shifter would, she knew, feel the presence of moon even though the trees prevented them from seeing it. Tara told them to lay their sleeping bags in a circle and oversaw their placement. Mac, Yuba noted, was put between Tara and Charles. Deliberately. Why? She was on Charles' other side and Francine on Tara's opposite side. This left the three shifters lying next to each other. Coincidence? It couldn't be anything else. Or could it? "We need rest," Tara said, "but we can afford only two hours, no more. I will wake you then." Though she, like the others, hadn't eaten for half a day, sleep overcame Yuba the moment she crawled into her

sleeping bag. "Yuba!" With her mother's urgent call ringing in her ears, Yuba sat bolt upright, her heart pounding in alarm. She stared blankly at the trees surrounding her, then recalled where she was. In a Russian forest. Deciding she'd been dreaming, she was about to lay down again when movement caught her eye. Mac was easing from his sleeping bag. He rose cautiously, paying her no attention, his gaze fixed across the circle. His lips lifted over his teeth in a soundless snarl. Then, without warning, he launched himself at Krystal. "Mac!" Yuba shouted, shoving herself free of her bag and springing to her feet. "Mac, stop it!" She rushed after him, unable to believe her eyes as she saw his fingers close around Krystal's throat. Tara and Charles reached Mac at the same time she did. Charles's arm caught him around the neck in a choke hold, yanking him off Krystal. As he did, Tara pulled something from under her shirt and slipped it over Mac's head. Yuba dropped to her knees beside Krystal who was coughing and retching. The commotion had roused everyone. Intent on discovering what had happened, Yuba left the terrified and weeping Krystal in Francine's care. She found Mac pinned to the ground by Charles. Tara crouched beside Mac, her hand on his chest, over his heart. Coming closer, Yuba saw that a chain hung around Mac's neck. If a pendant was attached to the chain it must be under Tara's hand. "I know what you are." Tara spoke only to Mac, her gaze holding his. "I know, Raymond McElroy, because you and I share a common affliction, one you must learn to control." Glaring at her, Mac said nothing. Without taking her eyes from him, Tara said, "Gather around, you Voleks, gather and sing your song to him. Sing until the truth of the words fills his heart and he knows who and what he is." Not understanding but responding to the urgency in Tara's voice, Yuba motioned to the others and they obeyed-even Krystal, with Daniel and Shan supporting her. "My gown is the moonlight, so cold, so cold," Yuba began. One by one they joined her, Charles singing, too, though he didn't release his hold on Mac. Tara's voice, low and intense, weaved through their song. "You are one of them, Mac. You are not only one of The Runes, you are a Volek. Feel blood call to blood. Volek to

Volek. You are bonded to them, to each and every Volek. We do not kill blood kin, Raymond McElroy. I do not, Charles does not, you will not. Blood kin, Volek kin. The words of the song are yours, are mine, are theirs. The Volek heritage is two-pronged but we are all one. Shifters and stalkers alike. All one." Tara knew. She knew because she was a Volek. Yuba felt no surprise. The truth had eased into her as they sang. "Sing Mac," Tara commanded. "Sing with those who share your dark heritage, sing the words, for they are about you. Sing. Sing. Sing." Yuba's heart lifted when she heard Mac's hoarse tenor join in. Then Tara, too, sang with them, uniting them all, Volek voices drifting between the massive trunks, penetrating into the remote fastnesses of the ancient forest, imploring voices rising up through the green branches and floating over the trees, singing in the night that was not made of darkness. And then something answered.

Chapter 22 A musical note of piercing beauty rang through the forest, a note unlike any Yuba had ever heard from an instrument or a human voice. As one they stopped singing to listen. Francine raised her face to the dark boughs above. "We hear," she said softly. "I hear and open my mind as a channel as did my mother before me." As Thalia had communicated with She Who Waits in the Black Forest, Yuba told herself. It was Thalia who had enabled Reynolds and Nicholas to understand She Who Waits. A moment later every thought was wiped away as something spoke within her. You are late in coming. Perhaps too late. For I am alone. Yuba cringed at first from the mind communication, then

realized how delicate the touch was, how unlike the violent possession of the witch who haunted her. There was nothing to be seen except green motes dancing about them. She took a deep breath, did her best to calm herself as she gathered her courage. Who….What are you? Awe tinged her question. I am a being composed of earth’s energy..the same energy that dwells in each of you while you live. But unlike a human I have no body; I am entirely energy. Long and long ago we were called earth elements by humans. Some thought of us as forest demons. With cause. We were still young and youth is cruel; wisdom and compassion come only with experience. We are Voleks, Yuba said, and we are cursed. We’ve come to you to discover why. A mist of sadness from the energy being seeped into her. You call yourself Voleks and others like you are the result of a failed experiment. We meant well but our plans went awry. Earth is a living organism and we were formed from its energy before any other life began. Before time began. For long and long we believed we were immortal. Then life sprouted around us….in the seas, from the ground. Plants. Animals. And humans. We were fascinated by the variety of this ephemeral life; we found humans amusing, never realizing the potential danger they represented. We cannot live near humans and survive. Before we discovered this many of us died, our energy returning to the source as does yours when you die. Those of us who retreated to the forests became survivors but we never really healed. We were like humans of your day who suffer from radiation sickness. Unhealthy ourselves, we began to fail in our purpose…keeping earth healthy. Being pure energy we’re unable to reproduce, unable to create others. Seeing no other alternative, we decided to try to incubate halflings within humans, hoping these halflings could learn from us. But if you had no bodies, Yuba protested, how was that possible? We have the ability to change, to create temporary, functional bodies that resemble anything we wish them to…plants, animals, humans. After our retreat to the trees, we sometimes amused ourselves by appearing in human guise to the lone man or woman who ventured into the forest and then sporting with them. The sport was one-sided for the human usually died or went mad. We were purposefully cruel, meaning to frighten humans into keeping away from us. When we decided on the experiment, some of us formed male bodies for ourselves, some formed female. And we mated with humans. We soon discovered the disadvantages of a female body..nourishing a halfling to viability took too long and used too much of our energy. Therefore, most of our matings were with human females. We planned to lure the halflings

into the woods when they were mature enough and train them to take over our duties. But the halflings were flawed. Worse, they were flawed in mutually destructive ways. The many we fathered on human women had our ability to change shape…but they became mindless beasts when they did. Those few who were fathered by human males lacked the ability to shift shape. Instead, they nursed an implacable hatred for their halfling brothers who could and killed them whenever possible. We were appalled. Perhaps we should have eliminated them all but we couldn’t bring ourselves to take lives we had delibereately created. We tried desperately to find a way to salvage our creations but by the time we learned the secret of melding the two into one who could be taught, the halflings had dispersed and many of us had died. Now I am the only one of us left. She Who Waits? Yuba asked. Again she felt the being's sadness. The one you call by that name is no more. I am alone. We descendents of your halflings have returned to you, Yuba said. Teach us. I will try. Though you are few, three of one kind, three of the other, I am but one and that is not enough. If I can teach the one who questions and the one who channels how to help me, perhaps we will be sucessful. Francine was the channeler, Yuba told herself, and then belatedly realized she must be the questioner. Come with me. Yuba found herself walking briskly, along with Francine, away from the campsite into the trees. Evidently the being had summoned only the two of them. She fought back her fear. From the cradle on, she'd been told by her mother that her purpose in life was to learn why the Voleks were afflicted. Against all odds, she'd reached her goal, she'd found the reason--only to discover there was more to be learned. She shouldn't be afraid of knowledge. But she was. When Francine grasped her hand she started, then gripped Francine's fingers firmly, gaining confidence from the human contact. The being spoke. Stop here. Continue to hold one to the other while you put your backs to the trunk of this tree. Green motes danced before a large trunk to Yuba's left. She and Francine obeyed. Green drifted into her mind, the cool green of a spring morning, soothing her. She pictured the green fields of the California valley where she'd lived as a child. There she'd been safe. Safe at home. Safe. Just as she was safe here. Then something touched the top of her head and sizzled through her like an electric current. The hair rose all over her body but she experienced no pain. After a moment, an

hour, a lifetime, the feeling vanished. You have been augmented. Return to the others and collect their charms against changing. Suddenly she and Francine were at the camp, though Yuba had no memory of coming back. She glanced at Francine and saw her own bewilderment reflected on her cousin's face. But the next moment, as though they'd discussed it ahead of time, they walked away from one another--Yuba toward Daniel, Krystal and Shan. The shifters. She knew without being told that Francine was assigned to Tara, Charles and Mac. The stalkers. No one resisted or argued when Yuba lifted the amulets over each of their heads. Had the being already told them what they must do? she wondered as she placed the three leather thongs around her own neck. She had no doubt Francine was doing the same with the stalkers--taking only two amulets because Tara had given hers to Mac. Numbly, Yuba watched the shifters writhe and change into fearsome beasts, saw hatred shine in the eyes of the stalkers. Without fear, certain they wouldn't harm her, she laid her right hand briefly atop the head of each snarling beast and rested her left hand on it. Something passed from her to them. Francine, she knew, had touched each stalker's head with her right hand over her left. Yuba herded the beasts toward the stalkers and, when they were close enough, without words, without touch, she forced the beasts to stand on their back legs and thrust their taloned front paws toward the stalkers. She knew who each was and how to match them: Krystal to Tara; Daniel to Mac; Shan to Charles. When the stalkers reached out with reluctant hands, Yuba was aware Francine was forcing them to grasp the shifters' paws. Now all that remained was for her and Francine to crouch underneath the extended arms and, after crossing their own arms, clasp each other's hands, left to left and right to right. She eased down, started to reach for Francine and fell into a crimson pit of nothingness. Never! The witch's voice raked needle-sharp across her mind. You are mine; you will obey only me. Terrified, Yuba struggled to resist. So much depended on her. Too much. She must not give in to the witch. You will release the beasts, the witch ordered. If she did, Yuba knew, the beasts would savage everyone. Including her. You will not be harmed, blood of my blood. I have

further use for you. Release the beasts. Now! She'd be betraying her kin. Killing them. Horrified, Yuba fought against the overwhelming compulsion to obey the witch. Bit by bit her resistance crumbled. Being, help me! she cried It cannot help; I am stronger, the witch told her. You will do as I say. The witch would win, Yuba thought despondently, just as she had before. Ten years ago the witch had forced her away from Elias, away from the only man she'd ever love. Anger burned through her, renewing her determination not to give way. "Elias!" she screamed. "Elias. Hear me, Elias, wherever you are. Help me, Elias." Lohi, deep in Tuonela's river, lunged to the surface. Yuba had called him. And, because she was the only one who had any claim on him, he'd heard. His gigantic silver body, scarred from innumerable battles with monsters who shared the malignant waters with him, leaped up, testing the air for a second before splashing back into the river. In that second he'd learned what he needed to know. Yuba was threatened by someone from the underworld. From the world that was and was not his. Someone he'd come against once before when she'd wrested Yuba from his embrace. The witch spirit. He had good reason to hate her. His body was forever that of a salmon and, as Lohi, he couldn't leave the river. But he'd learned much about the monsters he'd bested in fierce battles. Some of them could and did crawl on land. Though he could, if he wished, shift part of himself into one of those monsters, that part of him would be locked helplessly inside the monster until it returned to the river. Still, he had no other way to search for the witch. And when he did find her he wouldn't be able to help Yuba unless he forced the witch to come to the river. To him. Nearby was a suitable creature, a huge and ugly yellow frog armed with a dagger-sharp coiled tongue that dripped venom. Long ago he'd survived the poison and bested the frog in battle. Brothers, he said, we must control the frog, find the witch and lure her to the river. And we must make haste. He felt something slip from him and slither into the frog. One of his brothers. They'd never separated one from the other before and he wasn't sure why they did now. As Lohi he watched as the yellow frog leaped from the

water onto the far bank and hopped rapidly toward a scarlet tower that thrust up like a bloody finger in Tuonela's drab landscape. At the same time he looked through the frog's eyes, seeing what the frog saw, knowing what the frog knew. The blood-red tower encased the witch. The tower was her body, unscalable, impregnable. She was impossible to reach. Do not despair, his remaining brother told Lohi. The one of us who controls the frog will find a way. The frog's gigantic leaps brought it to the foot of the tower where it squatted, blinking malevolent yellow eyes. Its cavernous mouth opened and a call boomed out. "Foul spirit, a Volek arrives to challenge you. Are you brave enough to come forth?" When there was no answer, the frog, in a booming voice that echoed from the gray rocks, said, "You cower behind scarlet walls, oh foul spirit, because you fear Voleks. Fear that a Volek will best you. Your silence proclaims your cowardice. You are craven. A coward." "...coward..." the echo repeated. "Cow-ard," a raven cawed as it flapped over the tower. "Cow-ard." The stealthy wind of Tuonela picked up the refrain, whispering, "Coward, coward, coward," as it wove around and around the tower. Without warning, a dark slit appeared near the tower's top. An evil red effluence flowed from the opening, hissing and bubbling as it covered the frog. Perception faded and vanished even before the frog disintegrated. Brother! Lohi cried, fearing his brother had been destroyed with the frog. Wait, his remaining brother counseled. You have long been a breathing creature and even I drew a few faltering breaths before they put me aside to die. We are vulnerable, you and I. But he has never breathed and, though the witch’s knowledge is vast, she does not know this. Wait and be prepared. It may be that my brother and I can bring about your heart’s desire. Lohi had no idea what he meant. His body was forever that of a salmon and his spirit was sealed inside the salmon body, to swim in Hell's River forever. Immortal. Wasn't immortality the true heart's desire of every human? You will go, his remaining brother told him. I will stay and our first-born brother will rejoin me here in the salmon body. You saved the two of us from our lonely grave, you gave us life and love, you made us understand what

it meant to be human. Yet he and I are not human. We will enjoy immortality in this river far more than you. Trust us now as you did that October night in the woods at Volek House. I’ve always trusted you, Lohi said. But what…? Before he had the chance to ask questions, he felt his firstborn brother summon him--from where, he didn't know. At the same time, his remaining brother forced him from the salmon body and out of the river. Not only his shadow soul but his entire spirit was sucked into a swirling red chaos of malignancy. With horror, he realized he'd become a part of the witch. He shielded himself as best he could against her murderous rage but she tore down his defenses one by one. Then suddenly she and the redness faded like a bad dream and he found himself inside a human body. Sharing a human body. Seeing what she saw, knowing what she knew--but not controlling. Sharing. Elias! Yuba cried. You saved me from the witch! His brothers had joined him to Yuba in the only way the two of them could ever be together. They'd known better than he that she was and had always been his heart's desire. Questioner, complete the circle of healing, an alien voice commanded. Yuba's awareness left him as she willingly accepted the order. Elias, though apprehensive, didn't try to interfere. Without comprehension, he saw three pairs of beasts and humans holding hands and watched while Yuba crouched under their outstretched arms and crossed her hands, clasping the crossed hands of another woman. He felt energy flare around him, tingling through their shared body, soothing and cleansing, energy that brought an understanding to body and mind. The eight bodies, the eight minds, were one. Not only one with each other but one with the surrounding trees, plants and animals. With every living thing. One with the earth beneath their feet. As one, their knowledge expanded. They'd already been told why they'd been born and they'd been shown how to overcome the obstacles that blocked the fulfullment of their destiny. Now they learned how to heal. Eight were far too few for earth's needs, but eight were a beginning. As well as healers, they must be teachers and recruiters. Not only of others like themselves but of ordinary humans, healing and passing on knowledge until everyone on earth understood the oneness. As the intensity of the energy faded, Elias cringed at

his past selfish misuse of his powers. Little as he deserved a second chance, he'd been given one. At Yuba's expense. Yet maybe he could earn his keep. The witch took control of Yuba when she wished but he'd banished her when his spirit joined with Yuba's. He was not blood of witch blood, as Yuba was. Together, they'd continue to defeat that foul spirit. When Yuba felt the departure of the forest energy being, her hands fell away from Francine's. She rose, removed the thongs from her neck and dropped each amulet over the head of its owner, nodding in satisfaction as the beasts shifted to their human selves. When she was certain the stalkers were once more controlled, she sighed in relief. Her sigh was echoed by Tara's. "At last we're united," Tara said, tears filling her eyes. "If only my mother could have lived to know her struggle was not in vain. She was a Volek, you know. She was Sara Volek Eastman." Yuba stared at her. "Though I was told they disappeared in Russia, I never knew Sara--or Zachary either." "Zachary was killed soon after they entered the country from Finland. My mother never got over his loss. I sometimes feel she married my father only to conceive a child who could be taught about the Voleks, taught to work from within this country to help other Voleks come here. I was their only child. "My mother, fearing I might be a stalker, as she was, taught me what I must do when and if it happened and she bequeathed me her amulet. I'm fortunate enough to be able to control myself without the amulet. I'm glad it worked for Mac." Both women turned to stare at Mac. "I had no idea I was a stalker," he said huskily, his hand clutching the amulet. "Thank you, Tara, for bringing back my sanity. Thank you all for making me a part of this. I don't know much about my background, only that my grandmother claimed my grandfather was a part of Dillinger's gang back in the thirties. I never thought that was something to brag about." "My father searched for years for his brother's lost son, Rafe," Yuba said. "You must be Rafe's son. Welcome to the clan, cousin." Yuba turned to Tara. "Not only Mac owes you. We all owe you more than I can say. Without you we wouldn't have found the being who is the last of its kind. We'd have left

Russia as ignorant as we entered. Ignorant and bitter because of our heritage." "Ah, but it is a heritage to be proud of," Tara said. Yuba nodded. "A heritage we must try to live up to." I meant to try like hell. Better late than never. The words were within Yuba, a part of her and yet not a part. After her start of surprise, joy began a dance in her heart. Elias? Her thought was tentative. Hopeful. She knew he'd come to her earlier and banished the witch but she hadn't dreamed he was still with her. I’m here, Yuba. For better or worse. Forever! Her thought was exultant. Not unless you’re immortal. And thank God you’re not. Forever’s too long, love. But we’ll be together till death sends our combined energy back to the source. And even then, she rejoiced, we’ll be a part of one another. Part of the whole. "Please," Tara said. "Can we sing our song one last time before we leave?" Krystal began it, her clear sweet soprano adding a poignancy to the words. The others joined in one by one. When they came to the last line, Yuba repeated it once more after the rest stopped singing. "I take pride in my family name..." Elias's pleasure surrounded her warmly. I’d all but forgotten I wrote that song for you. Yes, you, Yuba, even then. But only now, only through you, do I understand the truth in it. At long last Volek is a name to be proud of.

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