Entangled

Entangled A Paranormal Romance by Karin Huxman © copyright by Karin Huxman, Aug. 2000 Cover Art by Eliza Black ISBN 1-58608-145-4 Rocket Edition 1-58608-249-3 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

Praise for ENTANGLED:

***I am proud to highly recommend this one to anyone who loves paranormal romances! *** HUNTRESS BOOK REVIEWS (Reviewed by Detra Fitch) "Karin Huxman is a clever writer and even better at naming her books. "Entangled" snagged me from the first sentence and kept me bound within its web of intrigue and suspense throughout. Highly recommended." Leta NolanChilders, author of the #1 best selling ebook The Best Laid Plans . "Karin Huxman brings a ghost hero to life so vividly you can feel his passionate kisses. Filled with a touch of spookiness, quirky characters, and enough sexual tension to melt chocolate, ENTANGLED will drag the reader in until it's almost impossible to come up for air." ---Karen Fox, author of PRINCE OF CHARMING

DEDICATION Thank you to all the individuals and organizations who lovingly restore and preserve our historic heritage. Your work provided the settings in which my imagination took flight. Many thanks to Pikes Peak Romance Writers; your unstinting support lifts me daily. And, with love and appreciation to my family, who accept me even when I?m having a brainstorm during dinner.

Chapter One

The sharp sound of metal striking metal reverberated through the still, warm air. It reminded Cassie Pierce of the old Errol Flynn movie she'd watched just last night. The silvery tone rang through her again. Voices, raised in anger, accompanied the metallic sounds. Indecipherable words drifted across the

dusk-filled meadow to where Cassie sat under an ancient oak tree, combing and carding raw wool. What could possibly be going on -- and where? As she gazed across the common toward the great house, her isolation hit her. The only living creature she could see was a gray squirrel, searching for food, in peace now that the tourists had left. Cassie was the last docent working tonight at the Northern Virginia estate, Eagle's Aerie. There, she heard the voices again. They called, faint yet clear, through the deepening gloom. The hairs on the back of her neck stiffened as she realized that the sounds were coming from the great house itself. She stood and looked at the old mansion, or great house. Shadows wreathed it. Its many windows reminded her of dark, sightless eyes on an age marked face. Cassie pushed away the notion and wondered what she should do. As she thought, a fire-like glow came to life in one of the front windows. A finger of cold fear ran down her back. The building was a tinder box. She couldn't ignore the possibility of fire-starting intruders on this historic site. She should call Fred, the security chief. All she had to do was activate her walkie-talkie to summon him. She hesitated, knowing that she could reach the mansion, and one of the many fire extinguishers stored there, before Fred could react. Another tickle of sound shivered through her. She decided. She cursed the long skirts and multiple petticoats that were the required uniform of all female docents here. The historically accurate clothes stifled in the summer heat. Wishing for jeans and sneakers, Cassie hiked the skirts up past her knees and ran. Her long legs ate up the distance to the front steps of the mansion. Caution made her pause at the door. That, and the fact that the lights indicating the security system was activated, stopped her from precipitately opening the solid wood door. It didn't make sense. Intruders and fire should have set off every alarm. Again, faint yet insistent, the angry masculine voices reached her. Now Cassie put the walkie-talkie to her mouth. Someone was fighting inside. Not only did she feel it close to sacrilegious for such activities to take place in this historic place, she had no desire to see anyone hurt. "I can't wait, Fred," she argued into the instrument. "Maybe they'll stop if they see me. I think they have matches or something burning. I'm going in. Just get here fast." "On my way." The box squawked into static, then silence. Cassie concentrated on the combination of numbers that would electronically disarm the alarm. She pushed open the door and stepped cautiously inside. Silence, and the ever present smell of age, greeted her. No smoke, thank goodness. Musty dust and the scent of fresh paint from the renovations tickled her nose. She struggled to hold back a sneeze. Outside, dusk crept across the surrounding forest and greensward. Sunset tinted the new spring growth with rose and tangerine. The interior held darkness. It lurked in empty corners and shivered down the stairwell. A tremor shook Cassie's slim frame and she almost stepped outside to wait for Fred. She squared her

shoulders. Until the security detail showed up, she felt responsible. Was responsible, she corrected. She had locked up an hour ago. No one had been in the house then. She must find out who had entered and how. Leaving the door open for Fred and his partner, Cassie turned to the room where she'd seen the flickering light. A faint footfall sounded to her left. Frosty fingers of air met her at the doorway. The touch was palpable. She entered a room used for lavish entertainment in earlier days. The cold nearly drove her away, and not from the mere physical sensation. This chill was more than tangible. A malevolence tinged it. She closed her eyes and concentrated on how warm and spring-like the room had been earlier today, when she'd brought tour groups through to marvel at the lifestyle of one of the country's founding families. When she re-opened her eyes an unexpected sight filled her vision. Scattered candles glowed throughout the room. Wall sconces and chandeliers, never lit in her lifetime, now gave the warmth of intimacy to the large space. The scene the candles illuminated stunned her. At first she could neither move nor speak as she watched the sword fight play out in front of her. In her uncomfortable role of onlooker, she became increasingly sure that whatever she was watching was being played out without either man being aware of her presence. Like being in a sound-proof room, she heard the other occupants, but they couldn't hear her. Cassie put a hand to her throat and felt her pulse flutter against her fingers. It reassured her. She wasn't hallucinating. She glanced around in wonder and with more than an edge of disbelief. In the yellow candlelight, she saw details in the room's decor never before evident, at least in the light of day. That oval concave mirror usually graced a wall in the small parlor. The carpet glowed with jewel-tone colors even in the dim light. It was a far cry from the faded antique, too fragile for heavy foot traffic that she was familiar with. She turned her attention back to the men. The opponents, physically well matched, each held the grim concentration that told Cassie this was a life or death struggle. The younger man wore his dark shoulder-length hair pulled into a ponytail with a ribbon at the back of his head. He struggled for breath. Blood oozed from between the fingers of his free hand as he clasped his thigh. In his left arm he held the sword in a muscle-popping grip. Sweat dripped from his brow. The blood looked real. What on earth was going on here? She looked at the other man. His age, at least ten years older than the dark-haired man, didn't slow him down. Indeed, he seemed to be toying with the first man, who valiantly defended himself as he bled to death in front of her. "Stop," Cassie tried to cry out. No sound issued from her mouth. Neither man did as she asked. Instead, in slow motion, the older man stepped back. Had he given up? She watched helplessly as the younger man lowered his sword.

"No." Cassie tried again. This time her shout lingered in the air, dissipating slowly. It echoed in her ears and her mind. She shut her eyes as the older man ran the younger clean through with his sword. Fear and a deep anguish swept through her. She slumped against the door jamb. When she opened her eyes, the room was devoid of movement, devoid of any life but her own. The intruders had vanished. A heavy hand gripped her shoulder. Cassie's heart leapt in anticipation as she whirled around. Fred's familiar brown face had never looked so welcome. Sweat beaded his forehead from the effort of running from the security station. His hands steadied her. "What's up, Cassie?" Concern tempered his southern drawl. "Where did they go?" Her voice rose as she turned back to the room. Disbelief hovered at the fringe of her mind. The body should be right there, accompanied by a dark stain of blood on the carpet or bare boards of the floor. Nothing. "Did you see them? They must have run out when I closed my eyes." Fred eyed her warily. "No one here but you, Cassie. I'll have Bob do a room by room search, just to make sure." "No. You don't understand. There were two men, in period clothes, there." She pointed to the space on the other side of the rope divider that kept tourists from disturbing the fragile room. Her arm trembled and she lowered it. Confusion made her shrill. "I'm sure of it. They fought with swords and one was hurt. It looked like real blood." "Yeah, sure it did," Fred soothed, his forehead wrinkling in thought. "I wonder if the Board arranged for one of the community theater groups to practice here. You know how they like to add realistic living history to the program. Could be they forgot to tell you about it." "Maybe, but the alarm system was armed when I arrived. They left too fast. How did they get in?" Her trembling slowed as she considered Fred's reasoning. Fred checked the clipboard hanging from his belt. "You searched the house and locked up?" At Cassie's nod he assured her, "I'll have Bob check each sensor. We've had them disturbed by small animals before, especially the ground level ones. I've been after the Board to modernize the electronic security for years, but they're tight fisted. They say that's what they hired me for." Fred sighed at this well-worn argument. "Everything's secure upstairs, Boss." Bob, a skinny young man wearing black rimmed glasses, joined them in the front hall. "Okay, let's check the sensors again. You take the river side, I'll check the road view. Come on, Cassie. Nothing else you can do now." "I don't understand," she said as she accompanied Fred on his rounds. "You saw and heard nothing, yet the room was ablaze with candlelight before you came in. I saw a man stabbed with a sword. There was blood on the floor." "Lights? Blood? Cassie, I never would have suggested you apply for this position if I'd known you

believe everything you hear." Fred relaxed, his voice teasing. "Believe everything I hear?" "Sure, but I don't appreciate you calling me up here at breakneck speed just to save you from ghosts." "You must have me confused with someone else. Even I know I'm the most grounded, sensible individual to come out of my family in generations. I'm a student of history. I don't believe in ghosts." "You mean nobody warned you of cold spots in the house, strange lights and noises after dark? Why do you think they all looked at you strange when you volunteered to close up and even stay late, by yourself?" Fred finished his inspection. He and Cassie turned back to the loose gravel drive where Bob waited. "Even if they had, I wouldn't have noticed. You know how deeply I get involved in my work. Quit pulling my leg, Fred." His banter served to calm her, as always. Fred was like an uncle. He'd been a close friend of her father's for years. Since her father?s death two years earlier, Fred had filled the void with his steady friendship. Fred's firm had the security contract for Eagle's Aerie. He had contacts in the personnel department. When he'd heard Cassie was looking for summer work at a historic site to round out her graduate academic studies in early American history, he'd sent her an application for the docent job. It didn't pay much but, in Cassie's opinion, the experience was well worth the low wages and long hours. The position allowed her access to family diaries and other papers that were unavailable to the general public. She hoped to find an item somewhere in the dusty archives on which to build her Master's thesis. "You talkin' about the ghosts?" Bob's voice took on an exaggerated quaver as he joined them for the walk back to the employee parking lot. "Blood curdling screams? Transparent figures gliding about weeping and wailing? Never go into the house when there's a full moon, Missy. The last person to do that never came out ? Alive." He uttered the last word in a hoarse whisper. Fred grinned at Bob's theatrics. Cassie tried to shake off the sensations of pain and dread she'd experienced from the first whisper of voices in the dusk. The unreality faded like a bad dream, leaving behind just a touch of unease ? And an odd whisper of anticipation. She brushed it away. Fred's explanation must be the right one, the only plausible one anyway. Ghosts? Hah, not in a million years. But ? "What if they were actors? Where did they go so fast?" Fred nodded. "I'll check it out. Meanwhile," he said, grinning again, "don't forget to check under your bed for ghosties and ghoulies." "Thanks for putting it all into perspective for me, guys." She chuckled. "The next time I lock up, I'll wear my lucky rabbit's foot, a necklace of garlic, and my great grandmother's crucifix. See you tomorrow."

By the time Cassie pulled her car into the driveway of the house she would call home for the next four months, the gray and violet of evening had replaced the earlier sunset splendor. Her small car fit into the surroundings like an uncouth country cousin. Cassie grinned at the juxtaposition of Georgian-style elegance against her ten-year-old import. Once more, she had Fred to thank, this time for arranging with

the owners of this estate for Cassie to live here. She was "house-sitting" while they vacationed in Europe. At her approach, electronic sensors activated floodlights over the front door and the garage. She touched the remote control and one of the three garage doors swung up, allowing her upstart car into the yawning space. As always, Cassie opened her door with care as she got out and went to the passenger side to remove her duffel bag. It wouldn't do to scratch the silver paint on the adjacent Mercedes, or the shiny red surface of the Jaguar on the other side. Usually she changed into street clothes before leaving the estate, but tonight's unexpected activities had left no time for that. Fred had escorted her to her car without allowing her to think about it. No wonder she'd caught several amused glances and open stares as she?d traveled home. It wasn't even tourist season yet. She pulled off the mob cap and released her heavy, shoulder length, black hair from its confining chignon The telephone message light blinked in a sequence of three, a red eye in the prosaic yellow kitchen. This room was the coziest and least pretentious room in the house. Cassie often spread her papers and documents on the kitchen table instead of using the lofty, but overwhelming, study at her disposal. She grabbed a wine cooler from the refrigerator and sat down to listen to her messages. "I detest talking to this silly machine, Cassandra dear." Her mother's voice reached out and warmed Cassie's heart. "You must call me back immediately. My crystals are violet with warning about you. Now stop laughing, I know you are. Even if I can't see you. You know that I'm often right. Call me." "Oh, Mom." Cassie sighed as the message ended. A flower child in her youth, Cassie's mother had embraced the re-emergence of New-Age psychic paraphernalia with all the gusto she possessed. Her pronouncements, sometimes remarkably correct, were greeted with degrees of enthusiasm by her family and friends. From outright laughter to thoughtful consideration, everyone enjoyed Constance Pierce's new hobby. The second message interrupted Cassie's musings. A siding salesman. She pushed the button and advanced the tape to the final message. "I'm calling for Cassandra Pierce. Cassie, pick up if you're there. Come on, I'm really sorry for the way I acted last week. I was a real jerk --" Cassie punched the stop button. Sure, he was tall, blond, and good looking. In a vanilla sort of way. Too bad Sean Fox considered himself God's gift to women. Evidently Cassie was the first woman to try to disabuse him of the notion. To his credit, he'd taken her to an elegant restaurant, and she had enjoyed his educated banter -- he did that well. It was the way he had eyed her, from head to toe like a hungry wolf, that had set her teeth on edge. When he had tried to turn his good-night kiss into a one night stand, Cassie had firmly pushed him away. He wouldn't take no for an answer -- until she?d followed it up with a knee to the groin when he had tried to remove her blouse. It was the last time she'd invite him in for coffee. No doubt he now saw her as playing hard to get. Impossible was more like it.

The man came to her in a dream that night, the most sensual dream Cassie had ever had. Instead of

blood dripping from his wounded leg and sweat gleaming from his pale brow, he was dressed formally ? Formal for the mid-eighteenth century, that is. Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his gray-blue eyes. She could have sworn he was laughing at her. Though she stood five feet, ten inches tall, she felt petite when he bowed over her hand. The silk ruffle of his cravat trembled over her skin like a sigh. Though dressed in satin knee breeches and silk broadcloth coat, he was no dandy. Powerful shoulders stretched the fine fabric and strong muscles showed through the creamy silk of his hose. She gasped as he turned her hand over and planted a soft kiss on her palm. The tip of his aquiline nose brushed against the sensitive skin of her wrist. Shivers traced along its path. "A dance, Mistress." His eyes gleamed molten silver in the candlelight. Cassie, caught up in the dream, dropped a curtsey. "First your name, Sir." Instead of answering, he took Cassie into his arms and twirled her around the room in a breathtaking series of spins and leaps. "You play the game well, Mistress. Think you, we can sneak out, away from your Mama's eye? I hear the rose gardens are especially fragrant this time of year." His voice whispered in her ear. She marveled at the warm tickle of breath from her dream partner's mouth. In the sconces by the fire and the elaborate candelabras, candles lent a mellow glow to the room, leaving only far corners in shadow. The soft light created intimacy while, at the same time, increasing the unreality of the experience. People surrounded them as if on the edge of a fog bank. Muted voices followed them, mingling with the strains of fiddle and harpsichord. This man, who held her with the firm sureness of long familiarity, was extraordinary. Arms, hard with muscles, encircled her with a curious mixture of tension and tenderness. The smooth silk of his shirt skimmed across her cheek as her hand rested on the finely embroidered fabric of his coat. She would feel a fool in the morning, having such night fantasies, yet she couldn't wake just yet. The fiddlers, hidden in a corner, showed no sign of tiring. Cassie danced until her limbs trembled. "Your mother speaks with Aunt Bess. Come." He pulled her through the nearest doorway and along a dim passage. The door to the garden beckoned. Laughing now, Cassie allowed herself to be propelled along until she wondered at the sharp pain in her side. Looking down she realized she was dressed in a tight fitting bodice with skirts and multiple petticoats underneath. The pain must be from stays, pulled tight. "Stop, I can't catch my breath," she begged and collapsed on a wooden bench beneath a rose arbor. "Oh my, how did anyone move in these things?" He looked at her strangely. "There is something about you tonight. You are different. Distant. Have you changed your mind? Your mother has been after you again about being too young to marry, hasn't she?" He knelt beside her and took a hand between his, kissing it again. What could she say? Suddenly this dream contained more reality than Cassie was comfortable with. "Pinch me," she demanded.

"No, you'll slap me again, like last time," he retorted. "I never did. Please, just pinch me or something so I'll wake up. This is the strangest dream I've ever had." A voice called from the house, "Elizabeth, where are you? Come inside before you catch a night fever." "Your mother. Follow me, then I will -- pinch you." Cassie nodded and followed his tall form through the maze of boxwoods until they reached a small clearing. A fountain and benches occupied the middle of the grassy area. The scent of honeysuckle mingled with lilac and perfumed the night. No roses, he'd been teasing earlier. These were the scents of spring, not late summer. A rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Lightning flickered and reflected from the water moving below them. "What river is that?" she asked as she strained to make out landmarks in the dark. "What game are you playing, Elizabeth? You grew up playing on the banks of that river, just as I did." "Oh, yes. Of course." Cassie fumbled with the words. Nothing was working out. Weren't dreams supposed to end the way you wanted them to? "You promised to pinch me. Do it this instant. I need to wake up." He looked curiously at her. Irritation warred with humor across the mobile planes of his face before he controlled his features. "Come here." His voice deepened and he reached his arms to surround her. "I tire of this game. Just tell me, Elizabeth Farnsworth, that you will honor me by becoming my wife. I will accept nothing else. You will be Mrs. Reid Phillips by summer's end." Mesmerized by the raw desire in his eyes, Cassie melted into his embrace. "Yes, Reid, yes." As if her words unleashed his passion, he lowered his lips to hers. Just as he captured her lips, Cassie caught sight of a shadow, the hint of something darker than night, crouched behind Reid. Unreasoning, irrational fear filled her. She gasped, the shadow moved toward them. It rose behind Reid, filling her field of vision, blocking the stars in the velvet background of night. "Reid, behind you. No," she groaned as he stepped away from her and turned. Darkness flowed, like a river of coldest night, over her. Away from Reid. Her sobs woke her, accompanied by the soft rumble of the Siamese cat purring on her chest. Sin leapt off Cassie, who sat up straight in bed, tears streaming down her face. A dream, it was just a dream, she told herself over and over. The terror followed her to this waking world in the form of bereavement. Reid, dream lover though he was, had captured her heart like no living man had been able to do.

From shortly after midnight, when she awoke, till three a.m., Cassie analyzed the dream. That's what she called it, had to call it. As dreams went, this one held more pure sensual power than anything Cassie had yet experienced, though vivid dreams were commonplace for her.

Fragments of this dream were distinctly un-dreamlike. The surrounding room, the background babble of people talking, even the music, had been faint, indistinct as though heard through a muffling filter. But, Reid ? Reid Phillips, he'd called himself -- there was nothing indistinct about him. She still felt the impression of his arms as he held her in the dance, and later in the garden. She touched her lips tentatively. The surprise and wonder of his passionate kiss stayed with her. Scents. They'd never followed her through a dream before. Yet this time she remembered the heavy smell of wax candles, the sweet honeysuckle's unmistakable aroma, and most impressive, Reid's scent. Never again would she prefer an over-perfumed men's cologne after experiencing the earthy mix of well-oiled leather and horse underscored by Reid's clean, musky essence. If only they could bottle that. Finally, she confronted the worst aspect of the experience, the cold, dark spot near the end. It held a note of familiarity. How? Where had she felt or sensed such malevolence before? Of course ? in the great house just last evening! The manner in which it had washed over her, cloying and insidious as an unshakable nightmare, brought a shiver of remembered fear. No wonder she'd dreamed about it. As if thinking about it conjured it up, Cassie sensed a cold shadow in a corner. The shadow vanished when she looked directly at it and she shook her head at her foolishness. "What do you think of that, Sin?" she asked the cat, who now purred contentedly by her side. Sin yawned and stretched with the easy disdain of a feline, and settled herself more snugly into the curve of Cassie's arm. Cassie smiled. Cats were supposed to be sensitive to the supernatural. At least they were in every movie and book she'd ever read on the subject. Sin's behavior calmed Cassie's frayed nerves. As she drifted back into sleep, Cassie sincerely hoped she experienced no more dreams this night. She was determined to keep this from Fred. What a laugh he'd have at her expense.

"Mother." Cassie struggled to keep exasperation from coloring her voice. "No, please. It isn't necessary to consult your psychic on my account. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I have no faith in that crystal mumbo-jumbo." She paused to sip from her second steaming cup of coffee. The light filtering through the dense green foliage outside the kitchen window lent a fairy-tale quality to the morning. Cassie found it easier to dismiss her earlier fears, a necessary feat in order to come across to her mother as competent and grown-up. Constance Pierce had a mother's gift of discerning her children's mood simply by how they said "hello." "No, I'm not afraid in this big house all by myself. That's the beauty of it. I have plenty of room and privacy for working on my paper. Besides, I have Sin for company." As if knowing she was the object of discussion, Sin stopped her dainty eating and looked at Cassie, blinked twice, then settled back to her breakfast. Just what I should be doing, thought Cassie. Then her mother's words started to sink in. Cassie?s startled exclamation had Sin running for cover as coffee slopped over the rim of the mug.

"An evil darkness following me? How did you come up with that?" In spite of her best efforts, Cassie's voice shook. It was ever so slight, but her mother picked up on it all the same. Mopping up the counter, Cassie struggled for calm. How could her mother know about the dark shadow of evil from her dream? Not that she did, of course. Constance's guesses were often the result of dramatics rather than true knowledge, but this hit too close. Finally Cassie felt capable of answering. "No, I just spilled some coffee. You know I'd love for you to come for lunch sometime, just not today. I've got a bunch of research to do. It's my first day free since I started work and I've got to begin going through the family records if I'm going to find some unique piece of history to write about." She looked at her calendar above the phone and did some mental figuring. "How about next Tuesday?" "How about tomorrow?" Constance protested. Cassie frowned at her mother's insistence, but remained firm. Three days would be enough to regain her equilibrium. By then she would be able to meet her mother's acute eyes with more confidence than she felt now. They settled on a time and place, a cozy cafe in Old Town, and Cassie hung up. A trick of light distorted her reflection in the window. Instead of reflecting the modern kitchen behind her and herself in her satin summer robe, she saw a darker scene. Now it seemed that the wind-tossed trees outside bent to the order of an evening storm. The shiny appliances became entwining rose bushes, and herself ? Well, her freckles and oval shaped face remained the same, but her hair was longer and pulled back. Tendrils of the dark locks streamed in the wind, and her robe became a flowered, fitted dress. The expression on her face finally brought Cassie around with a start. A shadow crept up on her. Her reflection twisted into such an open-mouthed scream of horror that Cassie closed her eyes and held her ears in hopes that she really was awake. As the sense of being stalked intensified to an almost unbearable tension, sunlight flickered onto her eyelids. Opening them, she was relieved to view a clear, bright summer morning. The terror vanished like darkness vanquished, and Cassie wished her mother weren't so close to clairvoyant. Her fears had coalesced in Cassie's imagination until they seemed more real than the song of the cardinal, who sang from the top of the maple tree outside. Cassie opened the window wide and allowed the freshness of the new day to flow around her and through her until she felt cleansed of the fears of the night. As she turned back into the house, refreshed and renewed, a bright flight of scarlet interrupted her vision. For a moment, an infinitesimal second in time, she saw blood? Blood dripping from a sword wound, sliced into the body of Reid Phillips.

Chapter Two

Ever since Cassandra had left the house that morning, she'd found herself staring at men while walking, waiting for traffic signals to change -- everywhere. The set of this one's shoulders, that one's height, the confident stride of the next, the texture of another's hair. And on and on. All in all, Reid Phillips was driving her to distraction, and he wasn't even real. "Snap out of it, Cassandra Jane Pierce," Cassie chastised herself, glad she had the museum to herself. For just an instant she'd caught sight of the distant gleam of the river in the distance. The next thing she knew she was daydreaming about the similar gleam in Reid Phillips' eyes. "Maybe I should go out with 'Mr. Vanilla' again." She sighed, unaware she had spoken out loud until she heard a snicker behind her. She whirled around, irritated at being caught. "Fred, why are you sneaking up on me?" she demanded of the grinning man who, stood just inside the door. Fred stopped grinning, but the amused twinkle remained in his eyes. "I wasn't sneaking. You were mooning over someone who isn't 'Mr. Vanilla.'" "Humph," Cassie snorted, and changed the subject. "I've spent the entire day sifting through the display artifacts, diaries, letters and all. Everything is so ?- sanitized, like the Farnsworths were perfect. Scandal didn't even come close. I can't help but feel that something is missing, hidden somewhere. No family is without a closet skeleton or two." She also wondered if she'd find mention of an Elizabeth or a Reid buried somewhere in the papers. "You been working in here all day? No wonder your eyes look like black holes," Fred commented. "Go home, Cassie. Read a novel, a juicy mystery, or take a long walk. Come away from the past for a while." The concern evident in his voice touched her. Fatigue gripped her. Her eyes stung. After last night's interrupted sleep, it was no wonder her attention was as scattered as the sunlight reflecting off the river. "Historians like the past," she said with a wry grin. "And there is something mysterious about this family. But you're right. I need to step back and find some perspective." A sudden thought occurred to her. "Did my mother send you to check on me?" He shifted from one foot to the other, a strangely endearing motion in a six foot, two inch man. She knew she'd guessed right when he couldn't meet her eyes. "You know, Unca Fred," she used her childhood name for him, "sometimes I think Mom knows more than I give her credit for. But," she said, holding up a hand to forestall his answer, "I'm in no danger, no matter what she said. Look, I'm wearing my grandmother's crucifix. Just like I said I would." At last, Fred smiled back. "Your mom worries, like all mothers do. I'm not a very good spy." Cassie went to him and hugged him. Then his word spy struck her. It held a sudden significance. Where had she seen that word recently? In one of the diaries, that was it. She turned back to the open display case, her slight irritation with her mother's and Fred's conspiracy forgotten. "Just turn out the light when you leave," Fred said. "I'll be around to check all the locks later. Oh, and watch out for ghosts." His last comment triggered a jump of adrenaline through Cassie's system. She managed to quell it and continued staring at the yellowed page in front of her. Its faded ink and flowing script remained unappreciated as she considered ghosts, one specter in particular.

Did she dare go back to the main house and see what would happen? Not that it would prove anything, but she might be able to confront the players of last night's little drama. If they showed up again, solidly human, it would ease her mind. Then she could stop worrying about blood and darkness and gray-blue eyes haunted by pain and betrayal. Maybe. Her mind made up, Cassie began the careful job of returning the fragile papers to their proper places. She had finished with the last old book and was locking the display case when she heard the hollow sound of booted feet thumping up the wooden steps. Must be Fred checking up on me again, she thought with a sentimental grin. It wasn't. As she turned to face the door, the room -- shifted. The bright track lighting and glass display cases faded, then disappeared. Wooden planks replaced the linoleum floor. The small brick fireplace remained, though even it had changed. Instead of a cold, empty space, a small blaze burned merrily on an iron grate. Cassie blinked once, twice. No good. She shook her head and felt something shift on top of her hair. She reached up a hand. Her fingers brushed cloth. As her hand fell, she glimpsed the lace cuff that draped in delicate drifts over her wrist. It hurt when she pinched herself. This isn't a dream, she realized just as the door opened. The setting sun outlined a man's large frame in the doorway. His face was in shadow but Cassie knew him. "Reid," she barely breathed his name. Her knees trembled. His eyes glowed in the faint light from the fire. He flicked his gaze around the room before closing the door and advancing on her. "Where's this wise woman you asked me to meet?" he asked. A brief flare of desire lit his eyes as he approached. "Wise woman," Cassie repeated. His proximity clouded her thinking. Her breath caught in her throat. This was incredible. Did he think she was Elizabeth again? That had been a dream. This was all too real. She turned away from him, fighting for composure. Don't try to understand it, she commanded herself. Warn him. If he is a real person fated to die by the sword, perhaps you're meant to save him. Her mind swam in an eddy of possibilities. Strong hands, gentle hands, turned her and pulled her close. "I think you sent me that half hysterical message so we could be alone for once." Reid's voice, low and growling, held hope mixed with humor. "There isn't a message from a wise woman, is there, Elizabeth?" He framed her face in his large hands and searched for an answer.

"I -- I cannot think when you hold me so," Cassie said, breathless at his closeness. How she wished he would take her in his arms and dance with her again. "Good, then you have not changed your mind about marrying me. We will be happy together, Elizabeth. I promise." The kisses he touched to her fingertips, palms, and upturned face assured Cassie of the truth of his words, and left sparks of desire in their place. If only she was the woman he thought she was. Her body tingled from Reid's sweet attack. She stiffened as a shift of light slashed across the room. Was she returning to her own time? No, she heard a scurrying sound to her right. A small, previously unnoticed door opened to reveal a short figure, carrying a lantern, entering the room. The door whispered shut. Reid released Cassie and narrowed his eyes at the newcomer. Cassie gaped at the obviously ancient but neatly dressed, tiny woman who came to stand before them. She was lovely. The fine wrinkles covering her face seemed to reflect a lifetime of joy rather than sadness. Though her dress was old and patched, it appeared clean. Sparkling silver eyes twinkled under a snowy mob cap. Wisps of cottony hair escaped the cap, creating a soft halo around the ancient visage. "Mistress Penwarren," Reid addressed the woman. "Are you the wise woman Elizabeth summoned me to see?" "You know each other?" Cassie asked. "Of course I know the best midwife in the county. What is wrong with you, Elizabeth? Mistress Penwarren has been present at most of the births in the surrounding countryside for over fifty years. But," Reid spoke to the old woman again, "there is no one here in need of your services." He raised his eyebrows in silent query. A curious combination of cackle and giggle escaped Mistress Penwarren's mouth. "Aye, Master Reid, your lady will not need those services for a while yet. But you are in mortal danger." Her rusty voice creaked lower on the word danger. Reid bent until he was at eye level with Mistress Penwarren. Cassie mimicked his movements. At this range, she discerned more than wise amusement in the woman's old eyes. They sparkled with hard won experience and painful knowledge. "Danger," Cassie squeaked. The pressure of Reid's hand on hers urged her to silence. The hint of humor left Reid's face. No expression showed now except for intent interest. "I pay no mind to portents, Mistress. Have you information based on more than intuition and demonic rumblings?" Mistress Penwarren sniffed indignantly and straightened her back. "I have no truck with the Devil, if that be your meaning, young pup. I know what I know. Evil blows in the winds about this place and time." Her wizened face took on an air of infinite sadness. "Aye, and it may be one of my own to bring this evil to ye. Your mortal soul is in danger, Master Reid. Beware of treachery from those you would trust."

Reid snorted. "If I must be wary about all I know and love, what would you have me do? Leave this place when my family, yea my very country, needs me most? No, I will not run away in the face of your premonitions." "Your fate is your own affair, and ye have been warned. What of your lady?" Mistress Penwarren shifted her intense gaze to Cassie. "Her danger is more physical, more of this world, but just as hurting." The old lady blinked and moved back a space. "And there is more to you than meets the eye, Missy Elizabeth, isn't there?" Cassie saw how Mistress Penwarren's crooked fingers shook as they made the sign against the evil eye, as if the woman had seen more than she believed. Did she know that Cassie shared Elizabeth's consciousness? "If I weren't sworn to the service of General Washington, Elizabeth would be my wife by now." Reid straightened and put a protective arm around Cassie's shoulders. "We thank you for your warnings, Mistress." "Yes." Cassie remembered her manners. "Would you come to have a cool drink before returning to your home?" "I see ye do not believe me, either of you." Mistress Penwarren stiffened, a listening look to her face. "He comes, the black sheep of my loins. May God have mercy on your soul, and his." The old woman left by the same door she had entered, and just as silently. Cassie was glad she was gone, but she had left an atmosphere of heavy foreboding behind. Reid broke the stillness. "Well, that wasn't the cheerful interlude I expected when I received your summons, Elizabeth." His words were glib, but Cassie felt that his mind was elsewhere. Perhaps he had taken the old woman's warning more seriously than he'd let on. "Her words trouble you, Reid. I see this, I who know you so well." Elizabeth's personality had taken control. Cassie mentally stepped aside, an observer now. She hoped Reid's and Elizabeth's conversation would shed more light on their fate. Before the two had a chance to discuss the strange events in more detail, a strong wind shook the small building. It howled like a lost soul around the closed door and windows, looking for a way in. Cassie felt herself pulled away from Reid and the body she shared. "Reid, what is happening?" She heard Elizabeth shout above the noise. The words were clear but faint, as if coming from a great distance. Then a darkness intervened and a mental door slammed shut. A sharp pain intruded. Bright light glared into Cassie's eyes. She found herself on the floor of the museum. The overhead lights shone full in her face. Pounding, ringing coursed through her head, the worst headache she'd ever experienced. Wait. She touched a hand to her head. There, again. An echo of something trying to break down the

door. Not the door of the museum, rather an internal doorway that Cassie had been unaware of until just this second. "Stop," she groaned. She didn't know the source of the ache, but fought off the pain in her head all the same. Something, some shred of acceptance, warned her that if she gave in, darkness would have room to seep through. A howl of wind, as if it had followed her from her trance-like state in the other time, swept around the building. More pounding. She heard footsteps. They stomped up the wooden stairs. Then, to her utmost amazement, the door opened and closed by itself. Her mouth went dry. She had no previous experience to call on to explain the calm deliberate pace of the footsteps that brought an invisible person ever closer to her. Searching for her? She crept along the floor as silently as she could until she reached a far corner of the room. There, she curled into a ball, hoping for some miracle of invisibility. The footsteps stopped by the fireplace, paused, then continued closer to Cassie. Though the air in the room was still as death, a scent wafted to her. Reid. It was his scent from her all too sensual dream. In answer to her thoughts, a form began to materialize from the quivering air. At first a vague outline, then more filled in -- yes. She could make him out now. The expression on his face was filled with such extreme sadness all fear left her. She wanted to comfort him. She uncurled her body a fraction at a time and stretched out a tentative hand. "Reid?" Her voice whispered and fell silent. The phantom stopped and looked around. He acted as if he'd heard her. She stood, hoping to get his attention, but he appeared to look right through her. She tried again. "Reid." This time he turned directly toward her. His mouth moved but no sound reached her ears. His actions made it clear he was aware of some presence. He swung his head in agitation from side to side until she could bear his pain no longer. Fighting down her own fear, she approached him. She stood right in front of him and reached out her hand. Then, she spoke his name one more time. Her fingers passed through him with an electrical tingle. This time he looked at her and his amazement matched her own. He raised his hand, as if to cup her face. His mouth moved and she caught a faint echo of his words in her mind. "Elizabeth? No." She shook her head, distressed once again that she wasn't the one he called for with such heartbreaking sadness. Cassie opened her mouth to speak but the door slammed open at the same time. She remained silent, frightened by what she saw. Darkness waited in the doorway. Its heavy, palpable presence sent her scurrying for the safety of her corner.

Reid turned and approached the doorway, sword held high. Odd, she hadn't noticed he was armed before. As she watched, he raised his weapon in a classic ready position and vanished with the darkness.

Fred found her later. She'd managed to find a sheaf of paper and a pen. Frantically, afraid she'd forget something, she had scribbled everything that had happened to her in the past two days. She perused the letters and diaries in the museum for a second time in short hours. She'd found no reference to a Reid Phillips or an Elizabeth Farnsworth. If they had ever lived, all record of their existence had been wiped clean ? The very public, oh-so-sanitized, records. As a historian, she knew how to dig into sources others only dreamed about. She would start tomorrow, early in the morning before her shift. She'd explore every dusty corner until she found something. Because she knew, deep in her soul, that Reid Phillips had indeed lived and needed her desperately.

"There's got to be something," Cassie grumbled. With her head deep in the dusty recesses of an antique trunk, her voice echoed weirdly around her. "Ah-choo!" "Bless you," an unexpected voice said. Its amused chuckle turned into concerned alarm when Cassie threw her head up in surprise and promptly knocked it on the edge of the trunk lid propped over her. "Ouch. Thank you, I think." Cassie rubbed the crown of her head and surveyed the intruder. Instantly she wished she hadn't spent the morning up to her neck in dusty, musty trunks and attics. The woman who faced her wore a bright, yellow shift dress. She held a straw, summer bag that matched her straw, strappy sandals. More than anything, she looked like she'd stepped off a fashion magazine's advertisement for its "How to look cool and crisp when summer is wilting you" campaign. From her shiny red hair to the coral toenails peeping from the ends of her sandals, the woman exuded youthful perfection. No, she was youthful perfection. ? Until she laughed. No society belle would dare to open her perfect mouth so wide, nor indulge in the cascade of sounds emanating from this one. "I'm sorry," the vision finally managed. "You looked so surprised, and then so disconcerted, that I lost control. You hurt your head on my account. Let me see." Before Cassie had a chance to react, the woman touched gentle fingers to the throbbing knot under Cassie's hair. The pain eased. Cool refreshment followed the touch. The woman removed her hands and stepped back. "How -- what -- did you do?" Cassie stammered, hot and sweaty once more. "Let's just say, I come from a long line of healers." "I hope the line doesn't end with you. I'd love to know how you do that." "So would a lot of people. But, I've been terribly rude. My name is Maigret Penwarren. I thought we could have lunch."

"Penwarren?" Cassie remembered that was the same name as the old woman from last night's vision. Was there a connection? Cassie grasped the proffered hand, then grimaced as she realized her own hand must be filthy. To her credit Maigret didn't flinch, just held Cassie's hand firmly until the gesture was over. "I'm not exactly dressed to 'do lunch,'" Cassie said with a glance at her dirt streaked jeans. "I need to clean up and get dressed for work. I have the afternoon to early evening shift. And, excuse me for being blunt, why should I have lunch with you?" "I could come up with any number of reasons, none of which holds a candle to the simple truth. We need each other." "This is intriguing," Cassie replied, her voice tinged with skepticism. "How can you help me? I don't even know you." Maigret's voice took on a tone of amused impatience. "Of course you do, I just introduced myself. I can help you find something more, ah -- shall we say interesting, than what you'll come up with here. To know me better, just have lunch. Coffee? Come on, Cassie, what have you got to lose?" Indeed, Cassie hadn't found a thing in these old trunks. Already half of her day had passed without even a glimmer of anything resembling an historical hint to Reid's existence. Not even a diary. Of course, the really old family papers had been taken off to the estate museum years ago. Those worth the effort of preserving that is. Her interrupted study of those last evening had left her with more questions than answers. She'd been nagged by a lingering feeling that something had been left undiscovered, just waiting for her impatient hands and curious mind to uncover. All she'd found were moldy clothes and mouse droppings, disgusting, and not helpful. Maigret's entrance struck a note of anticipation in an otherwise discouraging morning. "Okay, I am hungry. But I can't go anywhere like this." "I've got it all taken care of. Meet me in front of the Visitor's Center once you've washed." Maigret smiled and was gone. It took Cassie twenty minutes to put the attic back in the same condition in which she had found it, which wasn't saying much, and to wash. The restroom mirror showed when her face was clean and helped her to comb her ponytail and retie it. Even so, she couldn't help wishing she'd brought a change of clothes. She hated the thought of being at a disadvantage with anyone. The sight of Maigret Penwarren, sitting on a bench under the spreading oak tree at the front of the estate, was enough to erode any woman's self-confidence. Chin up, Cassie told herself as she went to meet Maigret. All she's got is style and a checkbook to match. Of course the sight of Fred fawning over Maigret nearly turned Cassie around. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and advanced on the pair.

"You go right ahead and enjoy yourself, Ms. Penwarren. I'll unlock the gate myself." Cassie overheard Fred say as she sauntered within earshot. "Hi, Fred," Cassie greeted her friend. His response was less than overwhelming. "Oh, Cassie, nice to see you. Bye." Short and to the point, then he was gone. "That is the shortest conversation I've ever had with that man." She turned her attention back to Maigret. "Follow me," was all Maigret said. She picked up the picnic basket that Cassie now noticed and walked to a gate that said "No Trespassers-Estate Staff Only." It was unlocked. "How do you rate treading on sacred ground?" Cassie remarked, half joking. Maigret shut the gate behind them and started down the faint rutted track toward the grove of trees in the distance. "My family has special ties to the Farnsworths. We greeted Farnsworths when they settled here centuries ago. Our kin traded favors over the years." "Are you on the estate Board or something?" Cassie was beginning to realize that Maigret Penwarren was more than just a pretty face. A faintly familiar power emanated from the delicate woman, cloaking her in a nearly visible aura. Cassie rubbed her eyes and the vision vanished. Though summer had just begun, already heat rose in waves around them. It distorted the air and dulled her senses. "No, I'm just a friend of the family." Maigret chose a shady spot under a majestic and ancient apple tree. "Here, let's spread this out." She handed Cassie one corner of the red and white checked blanket and they laid it on the ground. Then Maigret proceeded to empty the basket. Containers of food covered the blanket by the time she was done. "This looks great," Cassie said. She accepted a sandwich and bottled iced tea. "I don't understand why you went to all this trouble just to talk to me. I'd have been happy with a greasy hamburger and chocolate shake." "As I said before, we can help each other. And," Maigret paused a moment as if gauging the reaction her next words would bring. "Your mother asked me to get in touch with you." "What?" Cassie gulped and spoke at the same time. The resulting coughing attack required several hearty thumps on her back by Maigret before she could breath normally again. "Here, have another sip of this." Maigret offered her the bottled drink solicitously. Cassie, wary now, did as she was bid. How did her mother enter into this? She opened her mouth to speak, but Maigret beat her to it. "Don't blame your mother, Cassie. She is worried about you. From the vibrations I feel around you, and around this place," Maigret gestured to encompass the entire estate, "I understand why." "Well I don't understand anything. Who are you and what do you have to do with my mother?" Cassie demanded. The sandwich she'd been enjoying now tasted like straw. Had her mother finally been duped by a charlatan dressed in designer wear?

As if reading her mind, Maigret produced a silvery chuckle. Shivers danced up and down Cassie's spine. "I'm not out to scam anyone," Maigret said. "Your mother is a dear friend. We've known each other for several months. You see, she contacted me this morning after sensing some rather unusual vibrations from her normally logical, pragmatic daughter. Vibrations that she felt could only come from an other than normal source. She trusts me because I have an impeccable reputation among my peers and my clients. You see, I am a witch." Cassie was glad her mouth was empty this time. Instead of choking she would have sprayed food all over as she let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. She suddenly felt better, and hungry. Once she contained her mirth, she reached for a cookie, thinking she might as well enjoy the food while it lasted. Maigret's face, once Cassie had wiped her tear-filled eyes clear, was anything but amused. Oh, she's serious. First ghosts, then surreal nightmares, and now a witch. I wonder if I'm still dreaming. Cassie swatted at a mosquito, but wasn't fast enough to prevent it from biting her. This was no dream. "Now it?s my turn to apologize," Cassie said, hoping to mollify the other woman. "It was rude of me to laugh. I've had a difficult two days." Maigret nodded and waited. Cassie finished her drink and reached for a strawberry. Its bright red color brought back memories of blood and death. "Why don't you tell me about it?" Maigret asked. "It can't hurt. You don't believe in me or any of the rest of it anyway." "The rest of what?" Cassie paused with her mouth open for the first sweet taste of fruit. A drop of scarlet fell onto her jeans. It soaked in, warm and wet. Cassie felt unclean all of a sudden. Now the strawberries held no promise of refreshment. She looked a Maigret, then at her hand that seemed to surround a strawberry, but at the same time dripped blood. She dropped it with a shout, "What's going on here?" "Quite a lot, much of which cannot be explained by science or logic." Maigret's reply was calm in the face of Cassie's rising confusion. "I told you, I am a witch. That word has many meanings. It has held fear, loathing, and a sense of wonder through the ages. Though my gifts are not as dramatic as others, I believe I have the right ones to help you. The question is, will you let me?" Cassie looked from Maigret's intense face to her own hand, which again held an innocent looking strawberry. The red stain had disappeared from her jeans as if it had never been. For some reason she had yet to explain, Maigret wanted to help Cassie. Could she know about Reid, the ghosts? Skepticism warred with curiosity. At last she made up her mind. It wouldn't hurt, and it might keep her mother from distracting her all summer. "What kind of help did you have in mind?" Cassie placed the strawberries back into the container and covered them. It would be a long time before she yearned for that sweet fruit again. Maigret smiled broadly and visibly relaxed, as if she had won a hard fought battle. It wasn't until now that Cassie realized how tense the other woman was. "Your mother mentioned a darkness looming over you, a nightmare spirit. She says you told her nothing.

What happened? Start from the beginning." Cassie started with the sounds of sword play and shouting from the night before. The scene came back to her with such intimate intensity that she could almost see the blood and smell the sweat. Maigret's hand touched her own briefly, the contact steadying. After that Cassie related her dream and how real it had seemed. The same man killed or wounded in the house had been in her dream. She had been someone else. She ended with the darkness coming towards them and how she woke. The sensuality, the sense of belonging with Reid, she left out. Feelings tied to a dream were even more intangible than the dream itself. She liked tangible. Last night, the incredible shift of time, space, and perception was no dream. Yet she'd felt the same yearning communion, the same sense of agonizing, senseless loss. She kept these feelings to herself. In a short period of time Reid had entered her world, her heart. What purpose would it serve to relate to Maigret how she was beginning to feel for a phantom? With a start, she realized Maigret still touched her hand. Her skin itched at the contact. Relief flowed through her when Maigret removed her hand. "There's more you're not telling me, but it is a good start. Do the names of any of the people from your dream mean anything to you?" Cassie shook her head. "My research into family history has been limited to the public offerings until today. I was hoping to find a clue in the attic, but considering the state of the clothes and papers there, I don't think anything useful will emerge." "I believe a portion of the family's history has been stricken from the public records. The girl's name, Elizabeth, strikes a familiar chord. I must look into it. In the meantime, it won't hurt for you to continue your search through the attic. If something was erased from public records, it may have been hidden there," Maigret said. "Now you're holding back on me," Cassie accused. "I still don't understand why you're doing this. You know something about these people. I'm not doing anymore until you tell me." Cassie wanted answers, not orders. She didn't like doing research without a clear goal in mind. She went on. "I told you the people of my dream and in the house were dressed in mid-eighteenth century clothing. Certainly no one with a sense of preserving the history of that turbulent time would want to hide anything." "Maybe, but consider the state of politics. The colonial government was beginning to feel the full weight of the Mother country's yoke. Whole families picked up and returned to England rather than remain. Others turned openly rebellious against unfair treatment. The mood of the times lent itself to a certain amount of uncertainty and subterfuge. The Farnsworth family has built its place in our country's history by establishing itself as one of the founding families of the young nation. What if they had evidence of scandal relating back to that time? Someone who turned his back on the colonies would have been outcast by the family. Perhaps whole pages of family history were re-written to get rid of him." "Wait." Cassie held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "This is just supposition. No historian would accept such fancy. Hard proof, not dreams and portents, is needed. Do you really think that if such proof ever existed, it would have survived to this time?"

It sounded as if Maigret believed Reid had been a traitor to the colonies' cause. In her heart, even though no proof existed, Cassie knew Reid believed in the tenets of Jefferson and Mason. He was no traitor. Perhaps Maigret was only pretending ignorance of local history. Why would she? More to the point, why was she pumping Cassie for information? Maigret began replacing parcels of food into the basket, her face thoughtful as she performed the task. Cassie let her brood. She ran to catch a runaway napkin that tried to escape with the help of a fitful breeze. A shadow crossed the sun, though the sky was cloudless. Cassie looked up and shivered. Maigret sighed a great sigh and nodded to herself. "It's only fair that you know how I fit in this. My own family played a part two centuries ago, unknowing, perhaps even uncaring, that the power they called up would reach so far into the future." "'Power they called up?' I suppose you're going to tell me that they were witches too?" Cassie said, trying very hard to keep the amusement from her voice, and only partially succeeding. "It is passed on from generation to generation through the genes, and education," Maigret informed her. "Each succeeding generation adds to and stores the wisdom of the prior. We lost a great deal of knowledge in earlier times due to misunderstanding from those superstitious and jealous about our powers. Death by fire is terrible." Her delicate features reflected the horror of Salem and the Inquisition. "Witches aren't stoned or put to the stake anymore," Cassie pointed out, hoping to relieve the look of anguish on Maigret's face. "No," Maigret said sadly. "Now we are ignored or worse, called fakes and charlatans." She held a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. When she opened them, the sadness was gone. "Let's get back to the Farnsworth family and Eagle's Aerie. How does your family past tie into theirs?" Cassie was now truly curious. Any researcher worth her salt would be. Even though she had a healthy dose of skepticism, she was human enough to want to hear the story. Often a grain of truth could be found in anecdotal evidence. At the very least it would add a personal flavor to her thesis. "Not now." Maigret's reply was firm, and unexpected. "Not now? Why not?" Cassie's voice rose with disbelief. After all this, Maigret was putting her off. "The time and place must be right for such a tale. Tonight. Yes, that will do." Maigret spoke quietly, almost to herself, then addressed Cassie again. "Meet me at dusk by the front gates. Then we will see what forces are gathering here." "Forces? Dusk? You want to come back here then, and do what?" Cassie demanded as they began the walk back along the dusty track. Maigret offered another silvery laugh and smiled. "I want to meet your 'Phantom Lover' of course."

Chapter Three

The afternoon contained nothing but more dust and disappointments. Even though Cassie opened and searched two more trunks in the attic, at Maigret's suggestion, nothing of interest presented itself. When Cassie descended to ground level she discovered that the hot, muggy day had turned into an equally steaming evening. She practically flew home to shower and change before meeting Maigret. Determined to present a better appearance this time, she chose crisp white shorts and a pink silk tank top. It didn't make a bit of difference. She found herself outdone by Maigret's simple, yet elegant floral sundress. Again, Maigret was holding court, with Fred her all too willing courtier. "Don't you ever go home, Fred?" Cassie asked, amused, as she came up to the two of them in front of the main gates. "I thought I'd stick around tonight while you and Maigret do whatever you've got planned up at the house. Just in case any ghosts trigger the sensors this time," he answered with a grin and a wink while opening the gate for the two women. Cassie and Maigret walked in silence until they reached the front of the mansion. They paused outside the door. "What did you tell Fred we had planned?" Cassie asked. "That we are holding a seance and exorcism of course." Cassie gasped in dismay. Maigret smiled at her reaction and said, "You need to work on your sense of humor. I told him I was helping you go through some of the papers on display in the mansion. I'm on the preservation staff so I'm perfectly qualified." "I didn't know," Cassie said. Maigret disarmed the sensors set around the door. Neither woman moved to enter the building. The setting sun glowed dim and red, partially obscured by a towering thunderhead as it made its way west. Cassie shrugged off a shiver of foreboding. At Maigret's urging, she forced herself to remember the circumstances surrounding the previous night's episode. "Since we're not allowed to wear wrist watches while in period clothes, I had to judge the time by the angle of the sunlight." Cassie studied the creeping shadows of the buildings and trees. "I'd guess it was about this time that I heard the first noise." "Show me where you were," Maigret demanded. Cassie pointed some hundred yards distant toward the small building once used to spin raw materials into yarn. "I was sitting under that tree by the spinning building, carding wool. I haven't had much

practice, but I'll need to be able to demonstrate and explain the process, if asked," she explained. "That's quite a distance for such sounds to travel," Maigret observed. "Why did you think the noise was coming from the house?" "There was no question in my mind where the sounds were coming from, though you have a point. The more logical location would have been from the surrounding outbuildings. They are certainly closer to where I was. Now that you mention it, I didn't do more than react." They stood on the steps, watching dusk and the coming storm darken the land. "I'll ask Fred about the outbuildings, though I'm sure he searched them himself once you'd gone home. We must make sure no one was playing a trick on you," Maigret remarked. Her next question took Cassie off guard. "What were you thinking of just before the incident?" Cassie blinked. How did this bear on the situation? She kept her question to herself and blushed at the romantic notions that had wandered through her mind as she sat carding wool. In her mind she'd put herself back in the eighteenth century, a time she considered more romantic and adventurous than the twentieth. A time of sword fights and patriotic words. When men were willing to fight for the women they loved and the country they honored. The wish, faint yet persistent, had entered her conscious thoughts that she'd like to know a man of such strength of character and convictions. Pictures of a young Thomas Jefferson flashed through her mind -then she'd heard the first clash of metal. The last thing she wanted was to share such romantic notions with Maigret. They were too at odds with the pragmatic veneer Cassie showed the world. Instead she said, "I was thinking about the huge amounts of manual labor that went into simple day to day living back then. I was also wondering if I'd ever get the smell of dirty wool out of my hands. The sounds took me by surprise. They carried clearly on the quiet evening air. It didn't cross my mind right away to look for Fred or anyone else. I was sure I was alone. Then," she thought for a moment, "I realized the sounds were coming from the house. I saw a glow in the window that looked like fire. It was the danger of fire that moved me, though I have to admit to a certain curiosity about who was in the house and why. The sounds and lights compelled me to act." With a shiver Cassie turned back to the house. "Let's get this over with." Maigret nodded and opened the door, gesturing for Cassie to precede her. As her foot passed over the threshold, a tremor of premonition pushed at her. A creak sounded from the top of the staircase. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She nearly cried out at Maigret's gentle touch on her shoulder. Maigret's eyes were bright and wide with curiosity. She showed no fear as she pulled Cassie toward the room where the events of the previous night had occurred. "Take this." Maigret handed Cassie a small leather pouch. When Cassie grasped it, she heard a faint crackle and smelled a sweet, herbal scent. "I suppose this is to ward off evil spirits?" Cassie remarked with skepticism. "Forces of good and evil leave their marks wherever they go. In some places the vibrations of their passing stay longer. This house, and especially condensed into this room, is one such place. Can't you feel it?" Maigret asked, her voice a whisper.

Cassie felt something, a tug on her mind, like a memory trying to break through. A visceral ache almost like loss, swept over her. She didn't understand the source of the feelings. Something akin to anticipation struggled with her skepticism and the touch of fear brought on by the old house and memory of last night. How long would they have to wait for something to happen? They stayed on the threshold of the room, listening and watching, for stretched out minutes while the gloom deepened about them. Finally, Maigret said, "I've been in this house, this room, hundreds of times ?. By myself, with a group, at night, in the middle of the day. Never have I felt such a collection of psychic impressions as I do tonight." "But nothing's happening," Cassie argued. "It's fully dark outside. By this time last night it was over. Maybe I imagined it after all." This admission gave her little comfort. Even Fred had thought she'd imagined everything, though she was the last person in the world to give in to such vibrant fancies. "Wait. Something's changed." Maigret clutched a bag similar to the one she had given Cassie and closed her eyes. "It's coming," Maigret intoned. At that moment both a compelling warmth and an Arctic blast swirled around Cassie. The room was suddenly alight with the glow of candles from a single candelabra on the sideboard. The room -- shifted -- and they were there. The men she had seen last night, swords drawn, faces frowning in anger. "Maigret, do you see them?" Cassie managed to whisper. "No. I have an impression of light and dark. What do you see?" "Shhh, I must hear what they say." The man she knew from her dream as Reid Phillips was speaking. Cassie strained to hear the words, but all she caught was a phrase, faint as an old recording. Maigret caught her by the shoulder. Suddenly, as if the volume had been turned up, Reid's voice rang through Cassie's mind. "You bastard. You ruined her reputation and her mind. For what?" "Traitorous scum. I'm a loyal subject of King George and found out about your treachery. You thought you could go unpunished so I found the perfect way to make you crawl. Through her. She carries a child you know. My child," the older man taunted. At these words, Reid growled a curse and launched himself at the other man. The fight grew in noise and intensity until Cassie covered her ears to block out the strength of it. It was then she realized she wasn't hearing the action through normal means. Even with her ears covered, the sounds reverberated through her. Her mind reeled with the possibilities. Maigret's hand, firm on her shoulder, kept her from flinching from the dawning knowledge of her abilities. When she turned her attention back to the combatants, she saw they were at the same point in their duel as when she had come upon them last night. Reid, badly wounded, fought bravely though with a certain desperation. Again, when she saw the final thrust of the sword pass through him, she cried out in anger and pain. This time she used his name. As the scene began to fade from view, the room shifting and re-forming, he

looked directly at her and whispered, "You?" Then he disappeared.

"He saw me," Cassie repeated for the fourth time that hour. She and Maigret sat at Cassie's kitchen table sharing a pot of tea. It was an herbal blend Maigret had pulled from her bag. She claimed its calming qualities would soothe the overpowering impressions both women had absorbed. "You know," Cassie mused, "I didn't really hear the words until you touched me. Remember? I asked if you saw them, then you touched my shoulder. It was as if they were in my head." The wonder of it amazed her. "I never saw them, but once I touched you I heard everything. It echoed, like it was coming through a hollow pipe from a great distance. You must be some kind of communication conduit from their existence." "I don't want to be. It was the strangest, most uncomfortable feeling of violation I've ever had. Some of it anyway. So much pain and anger manifested itself, you must have felt it." "Why do you think I rushed you out of there so fast?" Maigret grimaced. "I may be a witch, but the power emanating from that room, and in a sense through you, took me by surprise." Cassie laughed, finally feeling warm and dry again. "It was like a scene from a horror movie, wasn't it? The two heroines running from the ghostly encounter right into the middle of a driving thunderstorm. Complete with lightning, hail, and deluge. We were in such a hurry to leave I'm surprised you remembered to reset the alarm." Maigret looked up, consternation creeping into her expression. "I didn't lock up. You were close to hysteria. I knew I had to get you away from there, fast. I'd better call Fred and have him send someone to check. They may not let me near the place after a stunt like this." Cassie directed her to the telephone in the next room in the event she wanted some privacy to plead her case. The clothes dryer stopped. Cassie pulled their now dry clothing from it, folding it thoughtfully. Calmer now, and ready to think about the experience, Cassie knew without a doubt that her dream had been much more than a fantasy. Somehow, though time and death separated them, she was able to communicate with Reid Phillips. She had to find out more about the life of this man. She knew how he had died, more than that, she'd observed it twice now. How had he lived? Then there was Maigret and her role in this activity. Cassie took it for granted that this acquaintance of her mother's had some knowledge of the Farnsworth family history. From Maigret's level of access to the estate it was clear she wielded some influence. She claimed to be a witch. If she was, which Cassie doubted with all the logical skepticism she possessed, why had Maigret run almost as fast as Cassie tonight? Maigret's fear was as unfeigned as Cassie's own. The other woman's entrance delayed further musings. She resembled a teenager in Cassie's spare robe with her hair undone. Her words echoed Cassie's thoughts. "I haven't much experience with ghosts yet." Maigret's voice was almost forlorn. "To tell the truth, this is my first time out without a supervisor."

"I didn't know witches had supervisors," Cassie said. "I suppose there's an apprenticeship and a union as well?" Her voice dripped sarcasm as she remembered Maigret's earlier composure, and the aura she emitted of complete and utter competence. A thought hit her, "How old are you?" Maigret smiled at that. "I suppose you don't think I'm qualified for this job, but I am. I'm a licensed herbalist and spiritualist, at least my superiors think I am. Tonight's little stunt might prove them wrong. To answer your question, I am twenty-eight. A little late in life to finally be qualified, but my parents held me back for their own reasons." Fascinated in spite of her misgivings, Cassie wanted to know more about the secret lives of witches. Not that she believed, no. The truth was, the happenings of the past forty-eight hours had put serious dents in her previously un-scarred armor of pragmatism. She'd probably wake up in the morning with a headache and the memory of strange, frightening, yet wonderful dreams, then go back to her normal life. The thought struck her as dull and boring. Astonished at the realization, she returned her attention to Maigret. "Held you back? So, they must have known about your powers." Cassie handed Maigret her folded clothes and went back to her now cold mug of tea. "They weren't sure I should follow in their footsteps, that's all." Maigret touched her mug briefly, then Cassie's. The brew now steamed with heat. Cassie looked at Maigret who simply smiled. "Follow in their footsteps, you mean they're witches too?" "It is largely a genetic trait, passed down from one generation to the next. Sometimes it skips a generation, and sometimes it doesn't manifest itself until late adolescence. That's the way it was for me." "Then, what about --" Maigret held up her hand. "No more questions. My life history isn't important. Let it suffice that if I wasn?t sure I could handle this, I am perfectly capable of calling in someone who can." "I'm not sure what there is to 'handle,'" Cassie grumbled. "Well then, let me worry about it, okay?" "Right now I don't seem to have a choice. I'm not sure if it's you, or my mother's insidious influence, or the pull of something else. I don't have a clue as to what label fits it. Whatever it is, I've got myself in the middle of a force. That's the only way I can describe it. Like the flu. It has to run its course before you can get over it." "That's a very healthy way of looking at it." Cassie didn't care for the patronizing tone in Maigret's voice, but she was too tired and confused now to fight the words themselves. What she really needed was time alone to think all of this through. Sensations and mental images kept swirling through her mind with little logical progression. A headache of major proportions was brewing. The sense that she was losing all control over the situation scared her the most. She had to take matters into hand soon. Until she had the events and their consequences straight in her own mind, she knew coping and making decisions was out of the question. "Maigret, go home." Cassie forced her voice to sound pleasant and not as if she was ordering the other

woman out of her house. "You're exhausted and I'm dead on my feet. Trust me, this will all look different in the morning. I'm sure we'll find whatever elusive clue is hiding from us and put this whole puzzle back into place." Lord, now she was even talking in cliché's. She must be more tired than she thought. Maigret, now changed back into her own clothes, agreed with reservations. She voiced a concern that Cassie hadn't thought about. "This house is built on land that was once part of the Farnsworth estate," Maigret remarked as she picked up her purse and headed for the door. "Most of the land in this county was part of the estate at one time or another," Cassie replied. "Why?" "Often with psychic manifestations of this type, the souls are bound to the land where they fought the last fight, or met the last challenge, on this plane of existence. This was Farnsworth property at the time that the fight we witnessed tonight took place. You'd better be prepared for -- well an interesting night." Maigret's eyes twinkled, but she rushed on. "I'll be back in an hour. You cannot be alone tonight." Before Cassie had a chance to disagree or comment at all, Maigret was gone.

A last lingering roll of thunder grumbled along with Cassie as she made up a bed in one of the guest bedrooms. "You'd think I need a baby-sitter, the way she's going on," she remarked to Sin, who sat on a pillow and watched. "I hope she doesn't tell Mom. I'm not ready for that conversation." This room had double sliding glass doors that opened onto a redwood patio deck. Cassie stepped into the damp, warm night and breathed deeply. The fresh smells of rain drenched trees and grass welcomed her. She moved further into the yard. The peaceful drip, drip, drip of myriad wet leaves and the quiet sway of the branches above her head was hypnotic. Cassie wandered further from the house on the brick path laid out through well-trimmed borders of boxwood. At regular intervals small Chinese lanterns sent yellow streamers of light along the path. Here and there a wrought iron bench invited a weary wanderer. Cassie ignored them. She wasn't tired. After the excitement earlier and the silence following the violent storm, restless energy flowed through her. She could barely keep her feet from skipping down the damp path further into the well-kept garden. When she finally stopped in front of the rose arbor, Sin twined her warm silky body around Cassie's bare legs. Up until now she had forgotten that all she was wearing was a thin robe. It was almost too much on skin that yearned to feel the caress of the soft night air. Her hands were at the knot of her belt when she heard the first faint footfall. Something more welcome than fear caught in her throat as she turned towards the sound. A leaf, miraculously dry after all the rain, skittered across the path. Cassie laughed ruefully at her imagination. No one stood there. Deflated, she sat on a convenient bench and welcomed Sin, who jumped onto her lap. The cat's purring soothed her frayed nerves and helped her focus her thoughts on the events of the past two days. Events that, if she guessed correctly, had started with her presence on the estate at a certain time of day. No, that was too bizarre. She might as well believe Fred and his stories of ghostly occurrences. A logical,

sensible person, like herself, knew how all old houses creaked and settled. Humidity, temperature, and types of building material all factored into the equation of the noises an old house made as it aged. She recalled Fred mentioning how items had been moved when no one was present. What else? Perhaps the rest of the staff could tell her something. Did they believe in ghosts? She would start asking, casually, tomorrow. It might all be anecdotal, but perhaps she could find some hard evidence to support this theory of ghostly presence. Ghostly presence. Come on Cassie, she thought, you're beginning to sound like your mother. She hated to admit her mother's intuition might be right. Another thought sprang up -- graveyards. Family plots were located on the estate grounds, the largest was already well documented. Documents were a good place to start, but Cassie decided a closer look might be necessary. What if there were older, less maintained graves? The idea had merit, though scrambling through the tangled underbrush in search of unmarked, or scarcely marked graves lacked appeal. More documentation, that's what she needed before she ran off looking for graves of -- who? This was the crux of her mental examinations. Did she believe that Reid Phillips and Elizabeth Farnsworth had lived at one time? Or were they figments of an otherwise inactive imagination? It was time to put her education to work. County records of births and deaths, old property deeds, even dusty colonial era newspapers and letters might shed some light on this mystery. Once set on this course of action, Cassie felt the pressure of indecision ease. She stood to return to the house. Time had passed, but she had no idea of how much. Sin vanished into the shrubbery at the same instant Cassie realized that each of the garden lights had dimmed. As she watched them, they went out, one at a time. Darkness flowed toward her in the same measured beat. "Where's that witch when I need her?" Cassie mumbled. A now familiar blast of cold air shivered through the folds of her robe. She trembled with more than a change in the weather. Fear gripped her. Through the arbor, an insistent voice ordered. Cassie didn't stop to consider the implications of the mental communication. She fled under the wooden arch, her bare feet slapping the cool brick walkway. The path, built for leisurely strolls, twisted and turned around itself. Cassie ran through the just budding rose garden. Though peripherally aware of the mingled scent of honeysuckle and lilac, she concentrated on keeping the lights in sight. Just once she hazarded a look behind her. The lamps continued to extinguish. The darkness pressed closer. Her heart beat hard and fast. Ahead lay the entrance to the boxwood maze. On her first day here, Cassie had spent a relaxed afternoon exploring this quaint addition to the property. Now it afforded both refuge and the possibility of a trap. She gave thanks that the lights were bright at the entrance, and she made out a glow through the dense foliage towards the center. Again she glanced behind her. The darkness had advanced so far that she stopped in the only puddle of

light surrounded by more than the absence of it. Quickly, the insistent command echoed again. She obeyed. Ducking inside the maze, she entered a secret world. Six-foot-tall bushes kept her from seeing ahead or behind for any great distance. She wasn't sure she remembered how to find the center of the puzzle. Find it she must. Safety lay there. How she knew it, she couldn't define. She simply understood that the darkness of fear and cold could not penetrate there. An unseen hand took hers. Instead of panicking at the sensation, she allowed it. Whenever she was uncertain of the correct direction, the hand closed around hers and tugged to the right or left. After endless turns, she burst into the small clearing at the center of the maze. The ghostly form of Reid Phillips stood beside the fountain. Cassie saw light shining through him. She blinked, but he didn't go away. She stepped into the circle of light. An incredible warmth closed around her, like a hug from a loved one. He smiled at her, looked over her shoulder and gave a nod which Cassie identified as satisfied. He began to fade away. "Wait," Cassie cried. He shimmered, but became more opaque. "What's happening? Please, tell me I'm not going mad." An instant later, after she realized she was questioning a ghost, she was sure she'd lost her mind.

Mad, no. She wasn't going mad, Reid thought ruefully. After over two hundred years in the limbo between life and death, he'd conquered madness. He had close kinship with the soul-deep feeling of reeling out of control. He pushed the remembered fear away and looked at the young woman before him. So like Elizabeth, in form, but not her. The sight of this woman had sent an electric shock of recognition through him as he had died one more time tonight. The tug of familiarity had pulled with such intensity that he had forgotten his time honored vow of revenge and concentrated on finding her. Whoever she was. Her consciousness stroked his with a feather-light caress. As if she distrusted it, or did not realize her actions. For Reid, the communion with a sympathetic mind after years of darkness pulled him into a warm pool of spiritual sunlight. Something in her soul called to him, though he was damned to die over and over again. He considered again how he could discern her thoughts against the backdrop of eternity. He recalled the flash of light, then her anguished scream, at the instant the traitor's blade had run him through. The look in her eyes shared his pain. For that reason he'd searched for her this same night, and unknowingly brought her to danger. This woman cast a strong psychic call. The darkness that he constantly fought had found her almost before he did. "Who are you?" she asked. Though her mouth moved, it was the essence of her words that rang through

his mind, not into his disembodied ears. Wonder and awe wove their way through her thoughts, vying with a strong measure of disbelief and fear. He allowed her another moment to regain her composure. She glanced over her shoulder. The darkness could not enter this protected place. She couldn't know that. It was right that she feared the deepness beyond the boxwood walls. "Just a wanderer," Reid finally answered her question. "And your name Mistress?" "You are Reid Phillips, aren't you?" Her voice melted softly into his mind, gentle as a spring rain, yet her question caused him to pause. How could she know? "That is what I was called," he answered. "Who is Elizabeth?" "My beloved. She has gone beyond my reach." He paused, quelling the ache of remembered loss as he considered the message he must give. "Beware Mistress, your gentle soul has touched not only me but the same pitiless darkness that dwells on this estate. You are in danger." There, at least he'd given her some warning, though he sensed a strength of purpose in her that both amused and confused him. "Danger? Only of losing what's left of my mind. I'm sure Maigret will see to that, if she ever comes back." Reid had no chance to question her comments. A light was approaching that dispelled the heavy darkness and replaced it with simple night. Safety radiated from the moving beam. Reid sensed a wise, though young, spirit walking towards them. It was the same light that had flashed earlier, just before he became aware of this lovely woman in the house. "You will be safe now. Stay within that circle of light." Picking her name from her mind was simple. "Good night, Cassandra." He left her with a teasing kiss on her parted lips. The act of creating enough energy to actually touch her fatigued him. The sensations that coursed through him at the warm, smoothness of her lips beguiled him. If God willed, he would find this woman again. He allowed his form to fade from her view, though he watched her until he was sure she was safely encompassed by the light. He flitted away, back to the house that was his curse, and his fate.

Chapter Four

A touch of invisible flame hovered on her lips where Reid had placed his. Her lips remained parted in astonishment after he disappeared. She snapped them shut at the sound of a voice, a real voice, calling her name. It had to be Maigret.

"In the maze," Cassie called. The fear that had followed her here dissipated until she wasn't sure why she'd run in the first place. A warm breeze blew a strand of hair across her face. She shivered, not with cold but with shock ?. Shock of coming face to face with the unknowable. Shock of realizing something more unsettling. Against everything she had trained for, against all odds, she accepted it. Maigret reached her. Cassie recoiled at the greenish tint on the other woman's face. "A strong force is at work here," Maigret declared. "Feels like I got back just in time. The cold of some creature's brush with oblivion lingers all around the center of this maze." "It's gone now," Cassie replied. She preceded Maigret through the boxwood aisles until they could walk side by side through the garden. "What happened?" Cassie didn't answer. Maigret touched Cassie's arm and jerked back as if stung. "Whether you wish to believe or not, you are part of the fabric of destiny here. Let's hurry to the house. We have plans to make and defenses to build." Fatigue, unexpected and strong, bore down on Cassie. An icy shiver sent her shuddering as a thought not her own stole through her mind. I'll find a way to get you, too. She cried out. This touch was evil, bent on overpowering her, nothing like the warm, gentle touch from Reid. Maigret grabbed her hand and pulled her until they ran along the path. It was so much like their panicked retreat earlier, Cassie had an irrepressible urge to giggle. She gave in to the impulse. By the time they entered the house, she couldn't speak for the hysterical laughter rolling through her. Through the tears streaming from her eyes, Cassie saw Maigret frown. Cassie doubled over with the force of the peals and giggles issuing from her mouth. She couldn't stop. Maigret mumbled. A zing like static electricity shocked Cassie into silence. Maigret touched Cassie's forehead and nodded. "I must protect you before anything else happens." Maigret reached for a briefcase on the floor and looked around. "I need an electrical outlet." Cassie took three deep breaths in an attempt to recover her equilibrium. She pointed to an intricately decorated wall. An outlet was cleverly camouflaged to blend with the wallpaper. She didn't know what Maigret planned, but hoped it would provide some answers. Half expecting Maigret to pull a cauldron and dried bat wings from the case, the thoroughly modern laptop computer took her by surprise. "What, no moldy, ancient book of spells? Where's your magic wand and broom?" Cassie took refuge in sarcasm. She pushed thoughts of Reid out of her mind until she could examine them more carefully.

"I may be a witch, follower of an ancient religion, but I'm also a woman of the computer age." Maigret set up her equipment. Cassie heard the familiar whirring sound of the computer booting up. "Please be quiet while I concentrate," Maigret said. "If I don't get this just right it will not be effective." Cassie watched with some skepticism as Maigret pulled a pair of horn-rimmed glasses from the briefcase and set them on the bridge of her nose. She then sat on the floor next to where she had placed the computer. After pushing a few buttons and mumbling under her breath, Maigret rummaged through her case until she pulled out a plastic container. "Sea salt," she explained at Cassie's quizzical glance. "It will help purify the room and the circle I create." "Un-huh." Cassie left Maigret to her task. Not that she believed in it. She wasn't sure what to believe anymore. She did derive a sense of security knowing she wouldn't be alone tonight. She went to the kitchen and started brewing more tea. The mundane task centered her thoughts. Once she had a cup of the fragrant brew in her hands, she allowed herself to dwell on the person stomping at the door to her mind, trying to come in. Reid. She had seen him. Even felt his unreal touch. Not in a dream this time. She put a finger to her lips. They tingled with the after effects of remembered fire. How would it be to really feel Reid's lips? In her sensuous dream, his arms had been strong and firm. His face had shown the signs of beard growth. She remembered clearly how safe she'd felt until that dark presence intruded. She shuddered at that memory, and the memory of its whispered intrusion as she had fled from the garden tonight. She really ought to tell Maigret about that. If the witch wanted to exorcise anything, it should be that black force. What of Reid, or his ghost rather? Counting the dream, she had seen him four times. If he was caught up in a fight with the black force, didn't he deserve release as well? I'd never see him again, the selfish part of her cried. She caught hold of compassion. It wouldn't be fair to keep him in whatever limbo in which he languished to satisfy her own wishes. Just because each time she saw him the tenuous cord that connected them against all probability and logic of time and space, grew stronger. Now that he had touched her in other than a dream, she wondered if she would have another opportunity to converse with him. She had plenty of questions. Foremost being, why he was here on this plane of existence long after his life had ended? Careful, you're starting to sound like Mom. Plane of existence? Honestly. Get a grip Cassandra Pierce. She grinned at her fantasies and poured a mug of tea for Maigret. Maybe the other woman was ready to shed more light on the murk that had invaded Cassie's thought processes. "Oh, just go away," Maigret's voice, tight with exasperation, came from the other room. A smell of sulfur tickled Cassie's nostrils as she arrived at the doorway. The sight that met her was about on par with the rest of her evening. In a cone of blue light, Cassie saw the form of a man.

Faint curls of purple smoke swirled in drifts around his tall form. His head came close to the ceiling. He dwarfed Maigret. Cassie blinked and rubbed her eyes. The blond giant stubbornly remained. Maigret Penwarren, at all other times pulled together, serene and sure of herself, frowned. She appeared as disheveled as a kindergarten teacher after a morning with a roomful of five-year-olds on a sugar high. A smile grew on Cassie's lips. If Maigret wasn't worried, Cassie needn't be either. She did wonder what else could possibly happen this night. The man turned his gaze on Cassie. She nearly dropped the tea mugs at the very seductive expression he wore. Whereas Reid's gaze had held her mesmerized, this man's glance at once taunted and dared. She waited for him to speak. Maigret stomped her delicate foot and pulled a wand from her briefcase. Blue light flicked up and down the length of the slender shaft. The glow wandered through the spectrum from purple to green and back while Maigret studied her computer. The man turned his attention back to the witch. He folded his arms across his massive chest and tapped one foot. "Chad, go away before I turn you into a frog. You're distracting me." Maigret raised her wand in warning. Grinning, he dissolved slowly. At the point when he was little more than a translucent glimmer of color, Cassie swore he winked at her. Before she had time to do more than gulp, he was gone, and the cone of light with him. "Finally." Maigret sighed and turned to Cassie with a limp smile. "Is that for me? You're an angel." She took a mug from Cassie's hand and sipped from it. "Who was that? Another ghost?" Cassie asked when it was clear Maigret wasn't going to offer the information. Maigret shifted from foot to foot. Her manner of assured woman of the world exchanged for flustered novice. "Um, well, let's see, how shall I put this?" "The truth works best with me," Cassie urged, letting a hint of sarcasm into her voice. "I made a little mistake in casting my spell. That was Chad, my older brother. My aunt sent him to check on me." "Your older brother is a ghost?" Disbelief now fought with sarcasm. "Of course not, he's a witch. He only uses that cone of light thing to rile me," Maigret replied. "It's his little way of putting me down. He thinks I never should have been allowed to finish my apprenticeship." "What went wrong with the spell?"

Maigret's face reddened. "I have something witches call 'direction deficit.'" She turned back to her computer and manipulated the mouse. Cassie wasn't going to let her get away with such a vague explanation. "What is 'direction deficit'? And why should it prompt a visit from your brother?" "The particular spell I wanted to conjure requires turning to different compass points during the invocation. Most witches are born with the innate ability to sense their direction, in reference to true north. I can not. In fact, I'm the only witch in known history to need a compass. It's embarrassing. Not many of my peers know about it. I'd appreciate it if you would keep this conversation confidential." Cassie considered this request. It crawled in and fell into line with the rest of the equally improbable realities creeping around her lately. Maigret clearly struggled with her problem. Cassie knew all about brothers, too. She had three of them herself. They knew all the hot buttons to push. She imagined that a brother who was also a witch had even more of an advantage. "I doubt I'll be talking to many people with an interest in 'direction deficit.' But if I do, I'll certainly keep my mouth shut." "Thank you," Maigret said, and changed the subject. "Tell me, word for word, the conversation that you heard this evening in the house. I sensed two lost souls, both of whom were also present in the garden tonight. Which one was Reid?" Keeping her growing romantic interest in Reid in the background, Cassie related both incidents. She forgot that witches had a touch of clairvoyance. "Why are you holding back your attraction to Reid?" Maigret zeroed in on it the first time Cassie stopped for a breath. "I don't see what bearing it has on anything." She didn't see any point in denying it, but she could put it into perspective for both of them. "It's like being attracted to Mel Gibson. It's a nice feeling but let's face it, there's no future in it." Now it was Cassie's turn to feel embarrassed. She had the impression that the playing field between her and Maigret had just evened out. "I can't say about the future, prognostication is not one of my gifts, but the past -- Yes, the roots of this situation lie there. The happenings of the past have left marks on this time. Indeed, these souls replay death over and over. Am I missing something?" Cassie yawned. "You were going to tell me what your family had to do with the Farnsworths," she reminded Maigret. "If it can wait until morning, I can too. I'm bushed." "No, it cannot wait. I fear that an earlier relation of mine might be responsible, at least in part, for the events taking place." Maigret turned off the computer and gestured for Cassie to sit on one of the pillows she'd set on the floor. A faint indentation in the plush carpeting formed a circle with the pillows in the center. White crystals were visible along the demarcation. Cassie picked one up, curious. "Sea salt," Maigret said at Cassie's query. "I told you, I use it for purification and protection. We will stay within this circle tonight while we make our plans. Don't worry, it will vacuum up just fine."

Sin chose this moment to enter the room. She stepped gingerly to the edge of the circle and stopped. Sniffing and growling as only a Siamese cat can do, she made her way along the outer edge of the circle until she returned to where she had begun. To Cassie's amazement, the cat made no attempt to join them. Instead, Sin turned her cross-eyed gaze toward Maigret and howled. Maigret spoke a word in a language Cassie didn't recognize. Sin did. She puffed up to twice her size and ran out of the room. "You don't like cats?" Cassie asked in surprise. "I thought cats and witches went together like -- mice and cheese. I suppose you're going to tell me that witches don't have familiars either?" "That was all made up by the early Christian church centuries ago when they were busy converting European pagans to their new religion. In their effort to eradicate our older religion, which is based on earthly, seasonal rites, they worked very hard to convince the ignorant that witches were allied with the devil. Naturally, witches needed familiars to work their deadly deeds. It's all a lot of nonsense. Besides, cats make me sneeze." "At least I'm getting an education about witches," Cassie said under her breath. "Tell me about this witch who's responsible for the ghosts here." "Remember when I said earlier that I felt a dark force and a light force in the house? I believe the light force is Reid. The darkness, I'm afraid, is that of a witch caught up in his own spell." Maigret settled herself on one of the plump pillows. Her robe billowed around her gracefully. "In all these years no one from our family has witnessed what you saw and heard tonight. Tonight, family history became personal." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she went on. "It all began over two hundred years ago, before the revolution, but during the time the Colonials were beginning to chafe at the yoke of King George." Cassie leaned back and yawned again. "Go on, this is fascinating, but for some reason I'm exhausted." "That's no surprise. Psychic forces can take a lot out of you. In a nutshell then, Geoffrey Hunter was a loyalist. He lusted after Elizabeth Farnsworth. The Farnsworth family shared close ties to England, as many colonial families did, but their sympathies lay with Washington and Jefferson. According to my family records, Reid Phillips was a spy for the colonials. He was killed in the Farnsworth mansion by Geoffrey Hunter in a sword fight. Hunter was the witch. He damned Reid to die over and over again until --" "Until what?" Cassie prompted. "Why?" "That page of the family history was torn out," Maigret admitted. "I need your help to find out from Reid. Perhaps he knows how to break this cycle. You can communicate with him. Maybe you can talk to the other one too, the spirit of my ancestor." The memory of the cloying darkness so soon after the actual events brought a shiver to Cassie's limbs. Get in touch with that malevolence on purpose? "Forget it," she told Maigret. "You're grasping at straws. How would Reid know about witchcraft and spells? Those things weren't exactly well thought of in those days. Superstition was rife. They may have stopped hanging witches by seventeen seventy or so, but they certainly didn't encourage witchcraft." "All true, which is why my family has kept the truth hidden for so long. Even now, in these so called

enlightened times, we are ridiculed. But that's irrelevant. The important thing is to find a way to break the cycle of death that has no meaning. Reid deserves peace. Hunter deserves whatever is waiting for him on the other side." Maigret's voice echoed with venom and rang with purpose. "There's more, isn't there?" Cassie felt the vibrations of something left unsaid in the air. "If I'm going to help you, you must tell me all of it." Maigret stood and pointed a small knife at the circle of sea salt and walked the circumference. Cassie saw a beam of light run from the knife to the salt. She blinked her eyes and the vision vanished. A faint glow now suffused the protected space. Maigret settled down again. "This afternoon I found out why Elizabeth and Reid are not in the Farnsworth books. Neither are buried in family plots. They lie in unhallowed ground." A sense of dread wound through Cassie. It thickened with the weight of past events that were making such an unexpected foray into her life. "Elizabeth died giving birth to a bastard son. Hunter's son. The family never forgave her. As for Reid, I told you he spied for the colonists. My records also claim that he was a double agent. His friends and family believed that he worked for King George, against them. Even though he was murdered by an agent of the king, they denied him a decent burial. Geoffrey Hunter saw to that. When he found out that Reid was really working for his patron George Washington, he raped Elizabeth and set Reid up as a spy." Rage and heartfelt pain overwhelmed Cassie, as if she were feeling them for the first time. They were the same feelings that Reid had transmitted to her as he had died again that night. She knew some of the reasons now. She wasn't sure Reid would ever spy for the British, but why hadn't Maigret's family made this known before now? Why let so many years of lies and denials go by without fixing things? A huge yawn engulfed her. No matter how many questions needed answering, this infernal fatigue made sleep necessary before she could handle anymore new revelations. Perhaps she'd wake up to find this was all just a significantly realistic dream. Cassie grinned at the wishful thinking. Dreamlike though some of the experiences seemed, there was a quality about Reid Phillips that defied the simplified reasoning part of her wished for. She glanced at Maigret, who remained cross-legged in the center of the small circle. Mist rose from the periphery of the circle. Cassie closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, a golden stream of sunlight was slanting through a gap in the drapes. Morning. She didn't remember falling asleep. Something clicked in her subconscious. Something to do with dreams, and why on earth she was in the middle of the living room floor -- Maigret. In a rush Cassie's memories of the last night's events rushed back. Giant men and ghosts. Amazing, but the most surprising and heart-deep disturbing was what had not happened. No dreams of Reid had intruded on her slumber. It was her first full night of uninterrupted sleep in several. Disappointment tugged at her as she rose from the floor. "Maigret," she called. No answer. "Never a witch around when you want one." Cassie untangled her feet from the quilt that had been thrown over her sometime in the wee hours. A gritty substance touched her foot. She recoiled, then remembered the salt. As she crossed the hallway that led to the kitchen, a flutter of white caught her eye. A note.

In her delicate script, Maigret wrote, "Coffee's on. Please wear the amulet on the counter until I see you again." Cassie paused and picked up the small leather bag hung on a string. It was the same bag that she'd had last night, at least she thought so until she caught a whiff of its scent. The aroma of musk vied with the flowery potpourri. Well, it was somewhat better than a necklace of garlic, she supposed. She leaned against the counter and poured a cup of steaming coffee into a mug before reading the rest of the note. "I'm off to delve a little deeper into family history, mine this time. Good luck with your search. I will return by dark." Maigret's signature was as delicate at the rest of the script, but it was the postscript that gave Cassie the first humorous jolt of the day. "P.S. I didn't have any eye of newt or toe of frog for the amulet -- trust me, they are vastly overrated. M." "Hah, a New Age witch with a computer spell book, no traditional potions, and a sense of humor. We may get to be friends after all," Cassie said to the cat who sat by her bowl, one paw held up in a mute request for food.

Was he finally going mad? After an unknown passage of time spent hovering in the nightmare zone between life and death, this tormenting glimpse of light and warmth nearly sent Reid over the edge. For uncounted years, vengeance had kept the fire burning in his soul. The fact that his betrayer shared his fate fanned the flames. Something besides rage began to seep around the edges of Reid's tortured soul the first time he felt his death watched and truly mourned. In a shattering instant of insight, before he flickered away, he beheld the image of a woman. Peripherally she resembled his Elizabeth, but she was not. The very fact that this woman witnessed and grieved stood in a corner of his consciousness before darkness fell again. Curiosity, at least he thought it was that long forgotten emotion, tugged at his mind. He had created a kind of fantasy world -- a dream. He had taken her into his arms. Though he had wished for Elizabeth, it was not. His beloved was gone forever. Sadness welled up inside him, but he pushed it away. He reached for vengeance again. It eluded him. The shadow that was his tormentor laughed. Again, Reid relived the moments just before his death. He heard the words of betrayal before Geoffrey Hunter's magic and sword transformed his soul into a shade of human thought. With his last breath, Reid took the surprised malignant human with him and sealed Hunter's fate. Until now, it had been enough. Each cycle he was given another opportunity to change his fate ?. Given a chance to breach the door to the rest that was denied him. He'd been defeated, time after time. This time had been different. Hope, something he'd dared not dream of for centuries, came in the form of the woman. Her name was Cassandra. Radiance flowed from her like a promise of redemption. Of course, he didn't believe in redemption. Not for him. He wondered if it would be too cruel to enjoy the warmth and serenity her presence brought. Perhaps. The world, both seen and invisible, tended to crush the kind of wholesomeness which was Cassandra.

The shadow of his nemesis gravitated to her, as well. The evil presence had turned to madness at death. Reid knew it wanted Cassandra. Only Reid stood in its way. He had decided to find her again, if only to keep the darkness from harming her. After her gentle energy touched him in the garden, after feeling the phantom of laughter and warmth of lips long denied him, he had given in to the impulse to seek her out. As long as she stayed within the confines of Eagle's Aerie as it existed when he lived, her living essence would lead him to her. So be it. A weight lifted from Reid's soul. A door, gilded with sunlight, opened somewhere in the universe. He was on the right road.

"Please watch your step walking over this threshold," Cassie told the group of senior citizens as she escorted them through the great house of Eagle's Aerie. "If you will exit to your right and follow the walkway, you will find the spinning house, kitchen, and other out-buildings. Another docent will meet you and continue the tour." She managed to smile at each person. She answered each earnest question. She sighed with heartfelt relief when there was finally no one to hear. Her morning shift as guide faded into early afternoon. The well bred tones of her replacement echoed from the rooms Cassie had recently vacated. Now she could escape. The heat and humidity of the Virginia summer seethed with the power of a living monster. It pounced on Cassie as she stepped from the comparative coolness of the house. Not for the first time, she blessed air conditioners and Dove Ice Cream Bars. Gazing around the busy common area, she marveled once again at the amount of back breaking labor the first settlers of this estate had managed to do in spite of the devilish summer weather. Most of it was slave labor, she recalled. Like others before her, Cassie had often wondered how the country's social course might have differed if Thomas Jefferson's first draft of the Declaration of Independence had prevailed. He'd championed freedom for the black men and women who had carried a large share in the building of this country. They'd done so with no voice in its running. Times changed. Maybe not fast enough or far enough for some, but at least they moved in the right direction. Most of the time. She pulled the mob cap from her coiled hair and sauntered along a tree-lined path to the boat landing on the river's edge. The fitful breeze blew a humid breath at her, only slightly mitigating the heat. A bench, shadowed by ancient oak trees, beckoned. Her feet ached in their leather shoes, but she knew better than to remove them now. She'd only have to fit them over her swollen arches in a few minutes. A few minutes was all the time she could allow for quiet contemplation. While guiding one group after another this morning, she'd used one portion of her brain to map out a plan of research. The mystery of Reid Phillips, his life and death, ached to be solved. As if thinking about him created his form, Cassie saw Reid walking towards her. She shook her head in disbelief. He wasn't walking, gliding better described how he moved. This isn't real, she reasoned. Cassie

was a very reasonable woman. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, he was gone. His disappearance touched a deep core of disappointment within, until she realized she was no longer alone on the bench. Reid sat there, gazing at her. Too much sun, that had to be the reason. Even so, she scooted to the end of the rough wooden bench farthest from the -- whatever it was. Curiosity, fear and attraction fought for her attention. Her hands trembled as she held them tightly together in her lap. Maybe he will go away if I ignore him. Though ignoring the vision of her nighttime fantasies was the last thing any warm blooded woman would do, Cassie attempted to do just that. After all, she didn't believe in ghosts, did she? At least, until recently, she hadn't thought about them one way or another. She turned from first studying her fingernails, to a seam by seam inspection of her leather shoes. After an indeterminate amount of time she sneaked a glance at Reid from the corner of her eye. If anything, he was more solidly there than before. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his attire. Dressed in a flowing white shirt tucked into immaculate dark blue breeches, he was only faintly transparent. He relaxed against the back of the bench, both arms flung along the top. His long legs were extended and crossed in muscle hugging breeches. To all intents, he appeared a man with all the time in the world. Right, of course Cassandra. Ghosts don't exactly live their lives, or whatever they call their existence, by the clock. Exasperated curiosity finally moved her to speak. First she looked around furtively, hoping no one else was near enough to see her talking to a nearly invisible man. "Are you real?" she whispered at last. His sigh, or image of such, attached to the sadness of his face moved her to turn more fully toward him. The smile that followed brought her heart to her throat where it beat so wildly she wondered if he could see it. Even in his semi-translucent state, his eyes shone with silver flames that sparked an answering heat in Cassie. Yes. She felt the warmth of her cheeks. This is no dream. "So, have you decided that I am no figure of your imagination?" His mouth moved but no sound issued forth. Instead Cassie "heard" his words as she had once before, in her mind. They wound their way through her brain and sunk into her consciousness, touching her in an indescribably intimate way. "I don't think my imagination is this strong," she murmured and stood, flustered in a way she hadn't been since she had realized how nice kissing a man could be. "Do you fear me? There is no need. In this state, I can harm no one." "Afraid and confused, a little anyway. Wondering how many times this week I'll wonder if I'll loose my senses, definitely. Thinking I should get my head examined, yes," Cassie answered. She stayed on her feet, but made no move to put any distance between them. Her innate curiosity and compassion

compelled her to stay and satisfy a question or two. She truly did not know how much was fear. Perhaps she should play it safe until she was sure. "Why shouldn't I fear you?" "Does my appearance frighten you?" "I'm not used to ghosts appearing on a daily basis. But, I'm getting used to it." "Then what?" he stopped. "I am not the dark, Cassandra. He cannot go abroad in the light of truth or of day." "Why not?" "His evil turned him mad. In his present form, light burns him." "I saw him kill you." "Those moments are the only ones in which he takes form. Do not fear him in day time." "How do I know you're telling the truth?" His lips twitched. "You don't know, Mistress. Perhaps you will learn to trust me. What is it called? A leap of faith?" A group of tourists wandered down the path from the mansion. It was the group she'd recently said good-bye to. Several people waved. A sprightly couple, who'd kept her on her toes with questions, headed her way. "Come, walk with me," Reid suggested, following her glance to the others. "Right, you don't want to be seen," Cassie said. "My dear Cassandra, they cannot see me. But if they engage your attention I will have to find you alone again." "What? Why? -- Oh, hello Mr. and Mrs. Rice. I hope you're enjoying the tour." Cassie turned from Reid to the couple now within speaking distance. It took her a moment to realize they were looking at her a little strangely. "Those clothes must be very hot, my dear," Mrs. Rice said, breaking the awkward silence. "You must have been resting and trying to cool off when we interrupted you. Was someone else here? No, I must be mistaken. Come, Marie. So sorry to have disturbed you." Mr. Rice backed off, taking his wife by the elbow when she would have stayed to chat. "Interrupted? But, no, wait I was, uh, well that is." Cassie fumbled for a reasonable explanation for seemingly talking to herself. An idea surfaced. Not one of her best, but it was the only one she could come up with. "I was rehearsing a part." That slowed the Rice's retreat. "A part?" Mrs. Rice asked.

"Ummm, yes. Actually that's how I spend my breaks. I take part in a little community theater group, but I'm not very good at remembering my lines." Cassie improvised with a speed that surprised her. Uncertainty showed on the Rice's friendly faces. At last, Mr. Rice smiled at her. He seemed to have made up his mind that she was saner than she thought she was. "Then we will leave you to your practice. Good luck. And yes, we are enjoying ourselves. Thank you," he said. This time he succeeded in pulling his wife back to the tour group. "Well," Cassie muttered and turned back to the bench. "That was embarrassing." She found herself alone. Reid had vanished. A movement teased the corner of her eyes. He hadn't deserted her. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him beckoning to her from the path that ran into the sun dappled woods bordering the river. Decision time. She balanced on a pinnacle of destiny. To fall and follow this man and see where the fantastic led her? Or to turn and forget, get back to her mundane boring little life? Cassie remembered Robert Frost's poem about the traveler who came to a fork in the road and had to decide between the well-traveled surface or the one less trampled. Thinking of what her mother would say, or her pragmatic, studious friends, brought a smile to her lips. She thought of everything Maigret had told her about Reid and his fate. A leap of faith, indeed. Mom would love this, she thought as she turned to follow Reid Phillips.

Chapter Five

By the time Cassie reached the edge of the wooded area, Reid was no more than a moving shadow in front of her. If it had been night, she would have turned and fled. She wondered, in passing, if all good ghosts made themselves known while the sun was up. First she planned to ask if he was the Reid Phillips she'd dreamt about. He appeared to be the same spirit she'd spoken with in the garden last night. What if she was wrong? Maybe this was the phantom of someone else. Maybe this was someone who wished her harm, the source of the cold air and evil thoughts. This revelation stopped her cold. Doubts assailed her. After all, she was relying on simple trust that this was her Reid. It went against her nature. She'd be more comfortable with a nicely laid out report on the subject, complete with graphs and footnotes. She never relied on feelings. She let her mother take care of that. What did she know of the spirit world, or wherever this presence came from? Nothing, except the stuff of bad dreams and fairy tales. Maybe she'd better rethink her position, talk this over with Maigret. Yes.

As Cassie turned these considerations over in her mind, Reid appeared at her side. "You do fear me, then," he said. Reid saw Cassandra clearly now. Before, it always seemed he'd viewed her through a warped piece of glass. In this way, he saw she did not truly resemble his Elizabeth. It had been a desire that Cassandra was Elizabeth. He peered closer. Now that the veil was lifted, so to speak, the differences between the two women became more apparent. The physical differences anyway. It was yet to be seen how this woman's heart and soul were made. A tiny flicker of fear showed in her clear eyes. Reid saw how she struggled to conquer it. The up-tilt of her chin, her straight back and steady stance, put him in mind of a startled yet confident bird. Poised for flight, but remaining until it was necessary. "I'm not afraid of you," Cassandra said. "I admit that I find what you are disconcerting." Those freckles, he thought, reaching out a hand toward her face. Damn, he passed right through her without touching her soft skin. She jumped back and put her hand on the cheek where his had passed. The last hint of fear left her eyes. They filled with questioning wonder. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice a faint whisper of thought. "Dream, ghost, or figment of my imagination?" "I was Reid Phillips." She relaxed visibly. "I did dream of you. You called me Elizabeth. Is she a ghost too?" Her innocent question thrust a dagger of pain through his soul. His beloved was gone from him forever. "No." His reply sounded harsh even to his own mind. She did not draw away. Instead Cassandra walked a little way beyond him, to where the path dipped to the edge of the slow moving river. He purposely tuned out the resonance of her thoughts. Her mind held too many intimate secrets that he dared not intrude on. When she turned to face him again, a sad smile lit her face. "She's dead, isn't she? You walk the earth because you cannot reach her, right?" He almost laughed at her naiveté. What tales had she been listening to? "You are right on one count. She is dead. The reason I walk this earth, in a manner of speaking, has nothing to do with that." "Then you don't pine for her?" "Your innocence does you justice, Mistress. But your questions only add more fire to the pain in my soul." A touch of his anguish pushed into his answer. Maybe more than he intended. He saw a tiny wave of horror wash over Cassandra's face. She would have backed into the water if he hadn't mentally pushed a vine in her way in time. Curse these useless phantom hands.

He softened the tenor of his thoughts. Is was hardly this woman's fault that she had the soft look and rounded figure of his Elizabeth. A tiny intrusion into her thoughts revealed that she was heart-whole. She'd yet to know the pain of love lost. The purity of her untouched heart glowed through her. He doubted she realized it. Reid pushed his pain aside for a moment. "Yes, I loved her. But she is gone from mortal pain and suffering now, and beyond my reach. I, however, still feel." "I'm sorry," Cassandra said, her voice low. The simple words and their power filled him. In all these long years he'd never shared his loss with anyone. The only one to share it with was the monster who'd caused it. Reid spoke with Hunter only once in a twenty-four hour period. Of course, their purpose at that time was to kill each other again. Cassandra's sympathy eased his burden, even though minutely. An expression of determination found its way onto Cassandra's features. Reid watched her frown in concentration and indecision. What painful question was coming next, and why did he stand around waiting for it? It occurred to him that she'd aroused his interest in his surroundings again. He kept getting flickering glimpses of the world she lived in. They held his interest and relieved his brooding on the world he had left behind. A thought caught him. He tossed it at her before she had a chance to frame her own query. "Who were those people and why are they here? Their outlandish dress and mannerisms mark them as strangers yet you spoke to them courteously. I wonder why the foreigners with the strange way of speaking the King's English wander about Eagle's Aerie with such impunity." Her grin caught him off guard. "Have you remained unaware of the passage of history and time? What is the last year you remember?" "The year of our Lord seventeen hundred seventy-seven." "That year, and those that followed, was tumultuous in our nation's history. Have you any sense of the passage of years?" He glided toward her and joined her on the sun-warmed rock near the water's edge. Oddly, he was aware that time had passed. He knew that decades, even a century may have gone by. But her attire was familiar. Had the world changed so little that women still dressed as they had during his lifetime? "By your clothing, I would hazard that no more than perhaps a hundred years have rolled on since I came to this state of being. You speak in cultured tones, Cassandra. You must be a woman of status and education." It was her turn to laugh. The sound pleased him much as he remembered firelight on a cold winter's eve. He hoped she would do it again. "Over two hundred years have passed, Reid. It's the year two thousand." On one level it shocked him. On another he nodded his acceptance. What difference did it make to him?

The knowledge simply satisfied his curiosity. Cassandra said, "As for those people and these clothes, it's a long story. Let me give it to you in a nutshell. The Farnsworth family, for financial reasons I believe, donated Eagle's Aerie to the state as a historical treasure. I'm a guide, a docent, part of the 'living history' program here. Tourists come from all over the country to see what life was like for the landed gentry in the early years of our nation's history. The Farnsworth's were patriots. Eagle's Aerie is where I work, for the summer anyway." A roaring sound flew above them. Reid followed Cassandra's eyes upward. He saw a large silver bird rising through the blue sky. More than large, it was huge and let out an unnatural roar. Plumes of white and brown smoke streamed behind. He felt no fear, just amazement. "What is that?" he asked, pointing. "An airplane, a kind of ship that flies. It carries people and cargo much like the great sea-going vessels of your day." Imagine, a flying ship. "How could I have not noticed such a thing until now?" Reid spoke quietly. Again a lightening in his soul touched him. A tide turned somewhere in the dark night where he existed. "Technology has moved forward at a remarkable pace since you were last aware." A gleam that Reid read as amusement and excitement showed in Cassandra's eyes. "Electricity, the telephone, automobiles and supermarkets. Oh yes, how much we have grown." Her excitement infected him. The world must have become a wonderful place while he steeped himself in rage and revenge. He almost forgot his purpose in the desire to explore. Her next words told him that perhaps mankind was not as advanced as he thought. "Yes, wonderful advances have been made in medicine. Do you realize we no longer fear smallpox? Many of the childhood diseases that ravaged families in your time have been close to eliminated. As for people -- I'm afraid the human race still has much to learn." Bitterness touched her soft voice. Reid put his own curiosity aside for a moment to consider the cause. "I suppose human nature would be slower to improve," he commented. "We still have wars and more horrible ways to kill than you have ever imagined." She smiled and put away the sad thoughts. "Can any of this be of help to you? Call me presumptuous, but I have a feeling that I may hold a key to your predicament." "Unless you can call the powers of darkness to pull that malignant evil from me and send me to the peace I've been so long denied, don't offer your help, Cassandra. Darkness surrounds me and everything connected with me. It must not contaminate you. Your gentle heart makes you vulnerable, as does being close to me. This will be our last meeting." The decision to keep his distance was for her safety. Her clarity of thought, the positive energy she generated, called to him. It had attracted his betrayer once. It must not happen again. Something inside Reid wrenched violently at the decision to stay away from her. Only for her sake would he turn his back on this connection to what once had been his.

"No." Cassie stood. "I meant it when I said I wanted to help. I may know of someone who can." She pleaded with him. The agony of his loneliness scorched her. "I must go." Reid began to fade away. "Good bye Cassandra." "But, I know a witch," she shouted at his vanishing form. For a second he flickered. Had he changed his mind? No. A sigh, gentle and sad, touched her, then he was gone. "I wish he wouldn't keep vanishing like that," Cassie grumbled, though in truth she felt more bereft than angry. The woods, sunlit and dappled, suddenly seemed remote and lonely. The sounds of loud voiced tourists were distant. Her isolation added to her deepening sense of loss. Even so, she stayed on the sun-warmed rock for a little while longer, hoping for Reid's return. Finally, one too many mosquitoes bit her. She slapped at it. The sharp sting of her own hand focused her thoughts. Her last words to Reid came back to her. "Maigret. I'll bet she knows how to get Reid's attention" It wasn't until she heard a voice call, "Good luck with the play," that Cassie realized she'd been walking back towards the landing and the tourists. The elderly couple smiled and waved as she rushed by. She managed a smile and waved back before plunging into the wooded trail that led to the main buildings. The uphill slope slowed her steps, which was just as well. It gave her a chance to decide just exactly what to say to Maigret, and what kind of help to ask for. The stark loneliness of Reid's existence clutched at her heart. She prayed that Maigret had found something in the witch's family history that would shed some light on what they could do to undo it. Reid's warning rang through her mind again. Had he only appeared to her to warn her? At the surface, she could accept that. In her heart, she knew he was an honorable man and would feel duty bound to do so. The man she knew from her dreams wouldn't let harm come to any innocent person if he could help it. That was why she was unconvinced by Maigret's assertion that Reid had spied on General Washington for the British. There was more to this story than history had recorded. Cassie was determined to solve it, public accounts be damned. What if he was manipulating her? That brought her up short. As a historian, written accounts of past events, whether from personal diaries or public documents, were her bread and butter. Her whole education, up to this point, was based on such facts, never on speculation or illogical conjecture. Here she was, ready to throw away her training and years of education on nothing more solid than dreams of a ghost, a being who's existence she'd have laughed about short days ago. She laughed aloud and again became aware of her surroundings when a woman asked her where the ladies room was. Chagrined, Cassie fought down the blush, hoping it would be attributed to the heat of the day. She provided directions to the tired looking woman who was carrying a toddler and dragging an older child.

Cassie needed a telephone. Thankfully the staff changing rooms were deserted when she arrived. By now Fred and his cohorts would have spread the word about her experience in the mansion the other night. She'd intercepted more than one wry grin from the other docents earlier today. They were a young group, mostly college kids or recent graduates. Their sense of humor was quick to surface. The last thing she needed was someone to hear her conversation with Maigret. Cassie opened her locker and screamed as a life-like plastic spider leaped out at her. She dared a look around. Thank goodness no one was around to see her put her hand to her wildly beating heart. Make that last observation about her co-workers, childish sense of humor. Gingerly, she pulled her street clothes from the locker. No more booby traps. She pushed her legs into her shorts and pulled on the tank top. These clothes were a relief after the heavy weight of the eighteenth century garb. It struck her that since speaking with Reid and experiencing the different dreams, the skirts and bodices and multiple petticoats were beginning to feel familiar against her skin. Though her comfortable shorts and top were modestly cut, Cassie felt strangely undressed. She shook that thought away and found the phone. Frustration caused by modern technology took over at the first realization that the slightly metallic voice was Maigret's answering machine. "Maigret, it's Cassie. I must talk to you. Reid's contacted me. He warned me that I might be in danger. Call me." Maybe a little over dramatic, but it would get Maigret's attention. Her wristwatch, a convenience that felt newly constricting, showed the time at shortly after four in the afternoon. She'd left the mansion after her last tour of the day shortly after the noon hour. There were a few more hours of daylight left, enough time to do a little investigating of her own on Eagle's Aerie grounds. The thought of spending any more time in dusty attics or closed-in museums held claustrophobic attraction. She grabbed her employee's map of the estate and headed for the service entrance to the grounds. Cassie found her feet taking her in the direction of the family graveyard. The well-tended plot behind its wrought iron fence offered cool shade beneath the great oak trees. Even the few children present spoke in hushed tones. The atmosphere, more than parental threats, served to dampen their usual boisterous enthusiasm. At least that was how it seemed to Cassie. This was a peaceful corner of the estate. Because it was hallowed ground? Maybe. Cassie turned to the task at hand. All she had was Maigret's assertion that neither Reid nor Elizabeth lay buried here. At least she could salve her badly battered scholarly mind with an investigation that would prove or disprove that. By the time she finished her survey of the family plot, she was satisfied that Maigret was right. She also noticed that she was alone. The tourists had left. The sunlight filtering through the guardian trees had a definite slant to it. Evening was approaching.

Soon it would be too dark to look for more clues. Cassie leaned against one side of the hard metal fence. The lack of hard evidence dispirited her. She'd found the graves belonging to Elizabeth's parents and, if memory served her, several aunts and uncles, and brothers and sisters. The sad stones marking infant graves sprang up with all too frequent regularity. They reminded Cassie of the primary cause of death to women and children before the advent of modern medicine. She wondered if one of the graves was that of Elizabeth's child. She had no reason to believe the child born out of wedlock had died at birth, just a guess. Again Cassie scrabbled around the small stones searching for dates, names, anything. Unfortunately, most of the stones held nothing more than the plain inscription "Infant son of --" or "Infant daughter -- ." She pushed her sweaty hair from her forehead and sat back on her heels in front of the last of the stones. Hot and drained, she was more certain than ever that she was on a wild goose chase. Reid must be a figment of a psychological need for male love. What else could he be? Even as her mind tried to hold onto that story, her heart said no. He'd said he was going to stay away from her from now on. Frustrated tears stung her eyes as a stray beam of light illuminated the ground just on the other side of the fence. She scrubbed her eyes clear and looked closer, then scrambled over the fence. A tearing sound alerted her to damage to her clothes. She ignored it as she fell on the half-hidden stone. Rough cut from granite, the stone's edges had been worn smooth by time. In the dim light Cassie could barely make out indentations in the flat surface that might be an inscription. Her sensitive fingertips went where her eyes could not. Her heart pounded in anticipation as she attempted to trace the letters she knew had to be there. No luck. The edges had smoothed too much. Undefeated, she cast around for any other clues to the identity of the owner of the grave marker, for what else could it be? Five paces to her right, a second stone had sunk into the soft ground. In the rapidly dimming light, all she could make out was that this stone was in even worse shape than the first. Covered with moss and lichen, it would take a good bit of cleaning before an accurate rubbing could be taken, but that was exactly what she would do. The museum carried a quantity of the thin paper and charcoal needed for the job. If she hurried, she could get it and return before night foiled her. As if in warning, a large drop hit the top of Cassie's head. She looked up absently, then rushed to her feet at the sight of the huge, black cloud now visible through the wildly blowing limbs of the trees. She'd been so intent on her discovery that she hadn't noticed the change in light and air presaging a storm. Tomorrow, she vowed as more drops fell faster and harder, she'd come back at first light to do the rubbings. Hating to leave, yet unable to do anything now, she pushed her way through the sodden trees and ran up the hill to the car park. Thunder grumbled and lightning struck close by. The earth trembled beneath her feet. Cassie knew real fear of the elements for the first time in her life. Shelter, she needed shelter. The museum, the staff buildings, every place was too far away to reach before the storm overtook her. The mansion itself loomed over her. Electronic security lights twinkled at the door, a strange counterpoint to the lightning that danced among the tree tops. Shivering, Cassie huddled under the small portico and keyed in the security code. She let herself inside

and listened to the echoes of the storm magnified in the deserted house. Momentarily she kept the door open, unwilling to let go of the outside world. Finally, the wind and the rain turned in her direction. Her sense of preservation prevailed. She shut the door before the rain could enter and do more damage than her wet sandals had already accomplished. An expectant hush fell over the house as the door clicked shut. The small security lights cast eerie shadows. A huge clap of thunder rolled across the heavens. Sharp light flashed so bright Cassie's eyes hurt. The tiny feeble lamps went out. Later, when she had a chance to think about it, Cassie would put together Nature's awesome display of power and the events immediately following. Later, when her heart had a chance to mend and her mind found a way to put it all together. Later -- Now, she fumbled for her watch and cursed that it wasn't a model with a battery powered light. She couldn't see what time it was. Right now, time seemed of the essence. A clatter of metal and the sound of voices raised in anger alerted her. The state of her watch, her mind, didn't matter anymore. Against her best intentions, she walked toward the candlelit room where Reid stood, wounded and angry. The other man, presumably Geoffrey Hunter, threw the ugly words at Reid. Again, Cassie shared some small part of the agony, the horror, Reid faced. Knowing that she would watch him die again was too much too bear. Hunter raised his sword for the final thrust. Reid's eyes shone clear with pure hatred as the blade aimed for his heart. Each spoke words, but Cassie paid no attention, she had only one wish in her heart. Wind blew through the old room. The candles' flames danced and swayed as Cassie darted forward. She was vaguely aware of a door slamming somewhere before she threw herself between Reid and the blade. The earlier display of Mother Nature's temper was nothing compared to the maelstrom that followed Cassie's action.

Chapter Six

Cold slapped her, enveloped her. Blinding white light dazzled her eyes. Howling filled her ears. Lost souls cried in the night as a gale plucked at her and tried to drag her away. Away from what? In her confusion, Cassie became aware of a set of strong arms clutching her. The sound and fury went on and on until, with an audible snap, it stopped. Cassie opened her eyes, unaware until now that she'd shut them. She stared into the concerned gaze of Fred.

"Cassie, Cassie girl. What are you doing here? Who is this guy?" Fred wrapped a large brown hand around Cassie's arm and pulled her to her feet. She didn't remember falling to the floor. The last part of Fred's question finally got through the fog of her mind. This guy? She tugged away from Fred's grip and whirled around. "Reid?" Dizzy and dazed she knelt next to the figure who lay prone on the faded carpet. Impossible, she knew it was. Somehow, it had happened. She would know that profile anywhere, under any circumstances. Through some miracle, Reid was no longer an insubstantial flicker of thought and emotion. Reid Phillips was here, with her. Wanting to, but not quite believing, Cassie reached out a hand to touch his dark hair. Before she completed the action, his hand snaked out and grabbed hers. With a speed she compared to the few action movies she had seen, Reid pulled her up with him and tucked her behind his back. His other hand reached to his belt where his sword would normally have hung. It was gone. "Now look, mister," Cassie heard Fred's voice, low and reassuring, "just let the lady go and everything will be fine." "Fine," Reid repeated. He shook his head. "It's okay Fred," Cassie said from behind one of Reid's arms. "This is, uh, one of the actors we were discussing the other night." She prayed forgiveness for the lie as she spoke. "He's acting now?" Fred's voice was edged with uncertainty. Reid's stance remained protective and belligerent. "Yes. Come on, Reid, loosen up, the scene is over." She shook him and felt muscles of oak under his fine cloth shirt. Her fingers tingled where she touched him. She cursed the breathless quality that took over her voice. "This man is your friend?" Reid asked her over his shoulder. "Yes, this is Fred, an old family friend. He's in charge of security here. Fred's a little miffed because you're practicing your skit here without his knowledge or permission." "I'll accept he will not harm you, Cassandra. As for the rest -- I'm -- so tired." Reid relaxed completely, into a heap on the floor. "I think he's hurt." "I'll call an ambulance."

"No." Cassie stopped Fred before he could reach for his walkie-talkie. Her mind raced, searching for a way out of this predicament. "Your friend," Fred grimaced at the word, "is bleeding." "It's not deep." Cassie pulled the bandanna from her neck and wrapped it around the gash on Reid's thigh. The bleeding stopped, but he was so pale. "He wouldn't want to go to the hospital, but I know someone who makes house calls." Maigret better be available, Cassie thought viciously. "A doctor who makes house calls? Hope he doesn't charge you an arm and a leg." Fred paused, his face a study of open thought. Finally he said, "It goes against my better judgment. This guy needs medical attention. But if you say he won't go to a hospital and you know a doctor who will treat him at home, I'll call Bob and we'll help you get him home." One hurdle over, Cassie thought. Aloud she said, "Thank you. If you'll help me get him to my car, I'll take it from there." "Yeah, sure you will." Fred was clearly uneasy with the situation. "If I could leave my post I would, but the storm pulled power lines down and the electronic security system is acting screwy. I wouldn't have found you if I hadn't gotten some wild readings on the scanner and decided I'd better do a visual check. Good thing Bob and I came over. Where is he anyway?" He looked over his shoulder, then left the room. Cassie heard his baritone voice echo through the house as he called for his assistant. Reid groaned. Cassie took one of his hands in hers, thrilled at the warmth and solidity of it after knowing him only as a dream and a phantom. Once she got him home and properly cared for, she'd have to think about all of this. Right now, she simply thanked God that Reid was safe. Just as Reid began to stir, his hands twitching toward the crude bandage on his leg, Fred returned shaking his head. "Bob's bugged out. I don't know where he went. Maybe he heard one of those ghosts he was teasing you about and went outside." The joke was as forced as his smile. Cassie could do no more than smile wanly back. "He's coming around, Fred. I think between the two of us we can get him to my car." Cassie would always remember the next twenty minutes as something between agony, as they struggled with Reid's partially inert form, and hysterically funny. Each time he came to, he'd look at her and Fred and exclaim, "Damned brandy. I wonder how this dream will fall out?" He'd walk a few painful steps, then lean more heavily on the other two. Cassie's car had never looked so good as when she got it unlocked and Reid bent into the passenger seat. His leg no longer oozed blood through the bandanna, but she was concerned about shock. "I gotta go find Bob. Call me later and let me know how your friend is." "Thanks again, Fred." The storm clouds had given way to twinkling stars by the time Cassie pulled onto the main road. She glanced occasionally at Reid's face, made eerily green from the dim glow of the dashboard lights. He

moaned once as she stopped at a traffic signal. A quick look told her his eyes were open, but unfocused. As she pulled into traffic again, he said, "I must be flying ? never gone so fast in my life." The twenty-first century was going to be full of surprises for this man. At last her temporary home came into view. Another car stood in the drive in front of the main door. Maigret opened the driver's side door as Cassie pulled up behind her car and got out. "I got your messages. Sorry I was unavailable all day. I've found out the most fascinating things." Maigret saw Cassie's passenger and stopped her monologue. "Help me get him into the house," Cassie ordered. "I'll answer all your questions, but right now he's wounded and needs a healer. I hope you have your bag of spells handy." To Cassie's relief, Maigret simply nodded and moved to help maneuver Reid to the house. Either Maigret was stronger than she looked or Reid was more helpful. Whatever the reason, the two women had him in the house and ensconced on the couch in the family room in less time than Cassie had thought possible. She had one heart stopping moment when Maigret frowned over the makeshift bandage on Reid's leg, but the witch's face cleared after probing the wound. "It will be fine, a clean cut and not deep. Boil some water for me, please, and I'll get him taken care of in a thrice. I've got the healing herbs in my bag. They're not as fresh as I'd like, but it is the wrong season for harvesting." "Boil water. I can do that," Cassie said and moved to the kitchen. Reaction and strain set in. Cassie was sitting at the table holding her head in her trembling hands when Maigret came in to check on the water. Maigret touched the back of Cassie's bowed head. Her voice was reassuring, though it held a curious note. "I'm sure his physical wound will heal. The psychic trauma worries me. He's sleeping now without the aid of the brew I thought to prepare. What happened?" Maigret's calm voice acted like a tonic to loosen Cassie's tongue. "I found the graves this afternoon, outside of the regular family plot. They were unreadable. I was running back to the museum for supplies to do a rubbing when the storm hit. It must have knocked out the power because the security grid for the house went out soon after I entered." She stopped for breath and wiped her eyes, unaware of when the tears had started. "I heard them fighting. They -- Reid was about to die again. I just couldn't watch. I -- I stepped between him and the sword." Maigret gasped and took one of Cassie's hands. "I don't know whether to call you brave or stupid." "I'm feeling pretty stupid right now," Cassie admitted with a feeble smile. "It's just that I felt that I knew Reid. He is or was, or whatever -- a good man, a whole man. I couldn't see him cut down again. Something in me snapped. I acted without thinking. For a while it seemed I'd called the wrath of heaven and hell down on me." She paused, remembering. "I'll never forget the shrieking sounds or the heat, cold, and light that swirled around me. Through it all I felt Reid's arms holding me tight. When I came to, Fred was there, and so

was Reid." The two women sat in shared silence until a deep voice said from the doorway, "I'd call you more than courageous Mistress, though I'm not sure you realize the consequences." They stared at him, a vision out of time, of raw masculinity leaning against the lintel. A small frisson of fear ran through Cassie at the coldness of his pewter eyes. At the same time she couldn't help but notice his height and breadth. She wanted to run to him, or run away. He panicked her in a primal way. Then she realized the gist of his words. She said to Maigret, "I may have released Reid, but what happened to the other?" Maigret's eyes opened wide. Cassie saw something akin to fear in them for the first time since this whole episode began. "Hunter's fate is tied to Reid's. When you disrupted the curse, you disrupted the flow of retribution. Hunter must have been released at the same time." "You mean he's wandering around out there?" Cassie asked, horrified at the thought of what she had done.

Quiet voices, dim light, a sensation of floating on softness surrounded Reid as he woke. It must be Heaven, he decided, for he'd been close enough to Hell to know what waited there. Then again, it could be another cruel hallucination. He'd experienced enough of those over the years to want to savor the warmth and comfort around him before he opened his eyes to the cold, darkness of his existence. His nostrils twitched as a breeze wafted the clean scents of wet earth and lilac blossoms to him. Surprise grasped him. He hadn't truly smelled anything since he'd been cast into the chasm between time. He concentrated on other sensations. Pain? The real, true stab of pain in his leg, yes. He ached all over, his muscles protesting a recent bout of violent use. Eyes open, Reid commanded silently, wondering how long the hoax would last. For hoax it had to be. His eyelids blinked open. He squinted in the yellow light of an upright lamp. Its shade was angled so he could not see the source of illumination, but it was different from the candles and lamps that had filled his house, whiter, clearer. The nubby texture of the surface on which he lay teased his fingers. Again the breeze touched his face. He turned his head to see from where it came. The wall of glass and netting was so unexpected he sat up. Where the hell was he? More unfamiliar features came into view. Though they were strange to his experience Reid perceived that they served the same purpose as items he had once used. The floor covering resembled nothing more than eggshell blue lambs wool. He was used to rag rugs or Oriental carpeting. The walls were a surprisingly plain white with amazing pictures hung upon them, not oil paintings but some kind of accurate printing. The pictures were placed under glass. In fact, the whole room contained more glass than his father's house had in the windows. Incredible. The voices and a stream of light flowed through an opened door to the right. One voice in particular was familiar. It brought memories of sun and shadows and a strange silver bird.

The fight -- Cassandra rushing between him and the blade -- it all came rushing back. Reid fought off the gasping panic that she'd taken his death by her action. Fool, that is her voice. It is more likely that she has some how saved your sorry soul, he remonstrated with himself. But why and how? He struggled to his feet, marveling at the way his body responded. He'd existed so long without one. The soft floor covering made it easy to walk silently. His heart missed a beat at the sight of Cassandra. He leaned against the lintel of the doorway and drank in her dishabille. For the first time in centuries, he experienced physical stirrings set a-whirl at the sight of her unbound hair and loose fitting robe. Reid dragged his gaze from Cassandra's fine boned face and turned it to the other figure. Even though this woman had her back to him, something about her stirred a vestigial memory. Without a clear reason why, he knew she carried a healing power in her hands. More than that, an aura encircled her. As he puzzled over the second woman, the gist of their conversation penetrated his brain. "I'd call you more than courageous Mistress, though I'm not sure you realize the consequences. Hunter got loose when you saved me? Not a very good trade-off, Cassandra." Cassandra came half way out of her chair at the sound of his voice, then dropped back with a thump at the sight of him. Her blush, and the way she pulled the collar of her garment closer about her throat, gave him more reason to believe he was no longer a spirit. A spirit wouldn't react as his body did now. He wondered if her skin was soft as silk under the fabric, or if the cheek, which he could not touch before, would glide under his hand. "It seems the patient has revived," the other woman spoke dryly. On closer examination, Reid saw that she was as nervous as Cassandra. Cassandra rose to her feet. She approached him slowly, as if afraid he'd disappear like a frightened forest creature if she were too abrupt. When she stopped within an arm?s reach of him and simply stood gazing up into his face, he saw something akin to awe mingling with wonder in her doe-soft eyes. In a way he couldn't understand, the two of them seemed locked into this fragment of time alone, together, as if it were always meant to be. Then, before he had a chance to react or analyze his feelings, she touched him. Her two elegant hands reached up and gently cradled each side of his face. Ecstasy, mixed with the pain of lost dreams, filled him as her fingers caressed and discovered his features from his hairline to his jaw. More than anything, Reid felt that she was trying to imprint him on her senses, make herself believe that he was truly there. Cassandra's face swam before his. A jolt of emotion coincided with the return of throbbing pain from his wound and in his head. Just before his knees buckled, he felt her finger touch something wet on his cheek. Then, in a way that was as old as woman and man, she gathered him to her and held him tight as the world went dark again. This time when he woke, Reid knew exactly where he was, cradled on Cassandra's lap. The satin of her robe hissed against his hair as he stirred. One of her hands stroked his hair off his brow; the other hand touched his chest just over his heart.

"I thought you said he'd revived," Cassandra's voice accused. "He's revived from one ordeal only to confront a more unexpected one," came the other woman's cryptic answer. "He wakes again." "Oh." Cassandra's hands stopped their movements as if she had just realized what she'd been doing. "Maybe we can get him to a bed before he drops on us again," she tried to joke. "No need for a bed, Mistress. Your lap is softer and better appreciated than any down-filled mattress." She saw her own reflection in the depths of his eyes and lost herself for a moment in the wonder of his presence. Then he grinned at her. She pushed him off her lap before he could hear her heart flipping over in her chest. Even after two hundred years as a ghost, the man seemed to know his charm factor. It would be all too easy to fall for this man, if she hadn't already. "Your patient is feeling better, Maigret." Cassie rose from where she sat with Reid on the floor. She bent and placed the pillow Maigret handed her under his head. He didn't stay on the floor long. With a small grimace, presumably for the stiffness of his injured leg, Reid levered himself into a standing position, then moved to one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "I've sustained worse wounds than this small scratch, Cassandra. But my thanks for your concern. I owe you more than a simple thanks for pulling me, somehow, from the nightmare I existed in. It was brave, yet foolish at the same time. What were you thinking to do such a thing?" What could she say? That she couldn't bear the thought of seeing him die again? That she felt the sword, wielding death, each time he did? No, that would reveal too much of feelings she wasn't even sure she was ready to admit to. His gaze, grave and perceptive, held hers and she felt the blush as she groped for an answer. Thank goodness Maigret took the conversational ball before Cassie put her thoughts in order. "That is unimportant at present, though I'd like an answer to the same question," Maigret said, with a sideways glance at Cassie that promised a grilling later. "You know Cassandra. I am Maigret Penwarren." Reid hesitated only a moment before taking Maigret's proffered hand. "You have the air of your kinswoman from my time about you, Mistress Penwarren." "Please, call me Maigret. You knew one of my ancestors?" "Yes, the Mistress Penwarren of my day was the county mid-wife. She had a way with herbs. Some even called her a witch, though never to her face." Maigret smiled briefly. "I, too, have some knowledge of herb lore and healing. And now I think my patient could do with a filling meal." Cassandra saw a twinkle come into her eyes. "When did you eat last?" Reid gaped at her for a moment then started to chuckle. When he could speak again he said, "My last meal was unremarkable and, from what I know, a very long time ago, Maigret. Yes, I do believe my body," he looked down at himself again and then back at her, "is telling me it could eat."

"We could all do with a fortifying meal," Maigret said. "Tonight's events end nothing. Indeed, it is just the beginning." With that mysterious pronouncement, she turned to the refrigerator and started gathering food items together. "What is she doing?" Reid asked Cassie when Maigret placed a casserole dish into the microwave oven. "It looks like magic." "Didn't I tell you how far we had come? It is nothing more than the magic of electricity. Benjamin Franklin started experimenting with it in your time. Surely you heard about his key and kite trick?" Cassie said with a smile for Reid's open curiosity. It was, she thought, going to be fun watching his reactions as she introduced him to the twentieth century. "All I remember of Master Franklin --" A sharp rapping on the front door interrupted Reid. The sound sent a shiver of apprehension through Cassie. She shook the fancy away. She'd had enough of fears and portents tonight. No wonder she was jumpy. "Hold that thought, I'll be right back." She smiled apologetically at Reid and left the table. The rapping became a pounding before Cassie reached for the doorknob. The metal of the knob felt icy. She didn't like to touch it. "Just a minute." She willed herself to pull open the door. The light over the front door was out. "Yes?" Cassie said to the shadows. She flipped the light switch by the door up and down, up and down. Nothing. A shiver ran down her back. "Who is it?" Her voice sounded tinny and weak as it echoed back to her from the darkness. Just as she was about to shut the door, a form stepped out of the shadows and into the thin light from the opened door. "Bob Cooper." Cassie recognized Fred's assistant and opened the screen door to him. "The light is out. I couldn't see you." A cool, stale breath entered ahead of Bob. In this light, he looked different to Cassie. She usually saw him during the day in his security uniform. She'd never really noticed him before, just recognized him as sort of an appendage of Fred's. He's tall, she realized as she looked up at him. His hair, dark blond, was longer than she remembered. His pale eyes stared at her, strange and unfocused. The way he materialized from the darkness unsettled her. His silence and stares unnerved her even more. "What are you doing here? You look like you're on the way to a date," she finally sputtered. In truth, he did look nice in the pressed white shirt and jeans. She'd never noticed before what a good looking man he was.

He stared at her for a second longer, then looked around. His gaze flitted across the room as if searching for something. "Fred asked me to make sure you were okay." His voice sounded more clipped and educated than she remembered. The days of strange events must have affected her memory more than she realized. "As you can see, I'm just fine. You can tell Fred I don't need a mother hen to watch over me." "And the man? Where is he?" Menace dripped from his voice as his eyes pinned Cassie to the spot. The nice, quiet Southern boy had turned into a menacing brute in the space of seconds. Cassie's mouth went dry. This was not the Bob Cooper she knew. "Here." Reid's sudden presence brought a knee weakening relief to Cassie. She heard more antagonism in the one syllable word than in any angry speech. "Do you know this man, Cassandra?" His grip on her elbow steadied her. "Reid Phillips, this is Bob Cooper. He works with Fred at the estate. You remember Fred? He helped me get you to safety." The chill in the air emanated from the mid-point between the two men. To her knowledge, Cassie had never seen Bob so much as frown, much less glare at anyone. Reid's barely concealed animosity was equally perplexing. The silence in the room grew until it throbbed. Cassie's nerves, already taut, stretched near the breaking point. By the time Bob nodded at Reid and turned back to the door, she was ready to scream. Bob let himself out, saying, "See you tomorrow Cassie." The screen door slammed behind him. As Cassie rushed to shut the inner door, Bob's car spit gravel as it raced around the circular drive and down the lane to the street. "I've never seen him act that way," she spoke more to herself than to anyone else, the habit of years of studying alone. Reid's voice in her ear startled her. "That didn't look like Hunter, but the evil emanating from him struck me like a blow. Where's my sword? I must go after him." "No, you need to regain your strength. Besides, what makes you think that was Hunter? It was a friend, albeit acting stranger than normal." Reid strode to the door, rubbed his head and nodded. "Maybe. I must know. Until then, I don't like the way he looked at you, Cassandra. Stay away from him." She turned and found herself only inches from Reid's chest. Off balance, she swayed toward him and caught herself before she fell. But not before her cheek grazed his shirt front. Her nose twitched with the scent of him, warm and familiar. She fought off the desire to snuggle into his arms, feel them surround her in comfort and safety. He had no right to issue orders, she told herself, struggling to keep an emotional and physical distance. She'd always been successful with keeping men at arm's distance. Whenever they showed a dangerous tendency to think they had a say in her thoughts or actions, the date, or relationship was over. Now she needed to show Reid that she was no eighteenth century push over. This was the nineteen nineties.

That's what she'd tell him. Just as soon as she got her breath back. The way he stared at her had the dizzying effect of taking her breath away. She struggled to get herself under control. It was time to tell him what was what. Cassie opened her mouth to speak just as she noticed his eyes change from cool silver to warm pewter. His arms came around her in a welcome embrace that she could no more fight than stop her heart from beating. Just before he kissed her, Cassie could have sworn he whispered, "I shouldn't be doing this but I must find out--". Then his lips descended onto hers, mastered hers. She forgot to think for several long moments. Her senses took over. For the first time in her life, she realized what sensual meant. Soft and tentative at first, as if asking permission, Reid's lips coaxed her mouth to relax and respond. A sigh escaped Cassie as she welcomed his darting tongue. How could he taste like brandy? Her brain registered the thought and filed it away for later. Now mattered. After all they had gone through, all that awaited them in Maigret's mysterious premonition, this time and place was their beginning. He kissed her like a drowning man gasps for air. Cassie forgot she was a modern woman and scholar as she reveled in the exploration. Reid deepened the kiss. Cassie wound her arms around his neck. She required little urging to mold her body to his as he tightened his hold on her. The need to reconcile her half realized feelings for the ghost, the phantom of a dream, with this flesh and blood, very real man, absorbed her. Their bodies, through their clothes, were in intimate contact. She felt his hardened arousal. Her knees weakened. Reid skimmed kisses across her throat and neck as she sagged against him. He hasn't shaved in a while, she thought with hazy amusement as the delicate rasp from his beard tantalized her nerve endings. Her fingers tangled in his ebony hair, soft and smooth where it brushed the collar of his shirt. She felt his thumb gingerly rub against one of her breasts and thought she would melt right there on the spot. She moaned, or growled. The next thing she knew, he had her at arms length and was swearing. At least, in her dazed condition she thought he was swearing, by his standards anyway. His eyes remained molten with desire when he finally raised them to meet hers, but the words he aimed at her were filled with anger. "I see women haven't changed much in two hundred years. Worse, you dress like a harlot and take no shame in it." His scathing gaze ran the length of her robe and lit at her bare feet, unseen flames trailing in its wake. Cassie fumbled with the tie on her robe. The satin had loosened during their embrace, exposing more flesh to his eyes. She struggled for calm, logical thought. What the hell had she done wrong? Calm and logical thoughts fled. The kiss was his idea, dammit. For all she knew, he was just using her as an experiment to see if he had all his faculties back. A worse thought hit her between the ribs.

"You bastard," she tossed the words to him. "I am no substitute for your lost love. Don't you dare kiss me again until you know exactly who you have in your arms." She swept from the room, leaving him gaping at her from the center of the floor.

Chapter Seven

By the time Cassie changed into fresh clothes -- brushed her hair -- straightened her room -- she'd calmed down a bit. Rationalize it, she told herself. He's a man of a different time, a different way of life and looking at things. By his standards, her running around in nothing more than a satin bathrobe or even blue jeans and tee shirt, was no doubt a blatant admission of sexual availability. She gave her hair one more pull with the brush and let out the anger with her long held breath. There, she was as ready as ever to meet Reid face to face again. If he dared make any more comments about her attire or morals again though, she'd give him a fast lesson in manners and morals of this century. Her entrance into the kitchen went barely noticed. Reid and Maigret paused in their conversation just long enough for them both to nod at her before they continued what they were talking about. An array of dirty plates ranged over the table in front of Reid. Cassie knew the refrigerator and pantry contained a limited amount of food. She only kept enough for herself and Sin, and she didn't eat much. Before she could ask where all the food had come from, Maigret smiled her quick smile and brought Cassie a plate from the microwave oven. "I stopped at the grocery store on the way over. Hope you don't mind. Since I was planning to stay with you, it seemed only fair that I contribute to the food I supply. It's a good thing I did. This man has cleaned you out. Are you full yet, Reid?" "Thank you, Mistress Penwarren. I'll do for now. What was that crispy thing wrapped around spiced meat? I've never tasted anything like it." "A taco, and my name is Maigret." Maigret's smile played across her petite features mischievously. "I'll bet that's not the only taste new to you. Try this." She pulled a pint of cookies and cream flavored ice cream from the freezer and emptied half of the contents onto the plate in front of Reid. "How do I eat it?" He sniffed at it, then touched a finger to the confection and tasted it. His eyes lit with surprised pleasure and he accepted the spoon Maigret offered him. "The way to a man's heart?" Cassie said as she observed the by-play between Maigret and Reid. "Don't be ridiculous," Maigret retorted. "I never get involved with ghosts, or clients. Besides, he needed a distraction." She changed the subject. "The telephone is out of order. The lines must have gone down in the storm. I'm going to find Fred and warn him about strangers on the estate. Of course, with hundreds of tourists coming through every day that will seem an odd request. However he does know all the employees. If he sees a man fitting Hunter's description I'll have him call you."

"You're leaving now?" The thought of being alone with Reid left Cassie breathless. "Yes, the sooner Fred knows who to look for, the better. We must find Hunter before he causes any mischief." "Right, of course. Go ahead. I guess we can find something to do while you're gone." "Well, you might start with finding your guest some more suitable clothing," Maigret said with a twinkle in her eye as she left the house. "Suitable clothing?" Cassie had forgotten that he was wearing the same clothes he'd died in. He's not dead now. She squashed down the rising horror of her brush with time and death. She put the experience far back in her mind, locked it away in a mental strongbox until she deemed it safe to examine her feelings and actions logically. Right now all she could think of was the reality of this man sitting across from her, scooping ice cream and swallowing it down with the expression of a kitten lapping cream. A man from a different time, a time that she had often fantasized about ? the paradox was overwhelming. Lordy, she wanted to keep this picture of his pure pleasure in her mind. Maybe someday, if she could store away enough memories like this, she'd be able to forget the heartache that watching him die had caused her. Reid finished the ice cream and frowned. Hand to his head he asked, "Does one always get a headache when eating this delightful food?" Hiding a grin at his all too familiar pain, and the cause, Cassie explained, "When you eat ice cream too fast you can get a headache. It's right between the eyes, isn't it?" He nodded, kneading the area in question. "Here, this will help. Drink it slowly." She placed a mug of hot coffee in front of him and began to clear the dishes from the table. While Reid drank coffee, Cassie cleaned the counter tops and arranged the dishes in the dishwasher, all the while thinking of how to find clothes that would fit Reid. Just as she was contemplating raiding the closets of her hosts, temporarily of course, she heard a gasp behind her. Reid stood with his head pushed into the open door of the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. "Ice, in the summer. Amazing." His muffled voice echoed softly. He pulled his head out and Cassie saw a look of wonder on his face. "How does this work?" Reid demanded. Cassie cast through her mind for the rudiments of refrigeration. She discovered, to her chagrin, that she didn't know much about this taken-for-granted convenience. "There is a motor run by electricity. It pumps a cooling fluid through pipes. Or something like that. We can look it up if you like. I'm sure there's an encyclopedia in the library. If not, we can check the computer resources." Reid pointed to the microwave oven, then to the dishwasher and stove. "These, all of these are wonders.

Show me how they work." "Show you is about all I can do," Cassie admitted. She put a cup of cold water into the microwave and showed Reid how to push buttons and turn it on. "This light and humming sound will make that water boil, Mistress? Don't make fun of my ignorance." "It's not the light or sound that heat the water. A kind of energy is generated which goes through the glass and water, heating it up." Cassie stumbled over the explanation and wished she had had a chance to study up on technology before introducing Reid to the modern world. The microwave signaled it was done with a beep. Cassie picked up the glass that contained the now steaming, bubbling water. Reid raised an eyebrow. "Witchcraft." "No, that's Maigret's field," Cassie quipped. Reid moved to the dishwasher. After examining that, he flipped a switch and jumped at the sound of the garbage disposal. Then he nearly burned his hand on the electric range. In fact, he kept Cassie fumbling for explanations and rushing around the kitchen after him until she was worn out. She found his keen curiosity endearing until he wanted to take apart the coffee maker to see how it worked. "No." She couldn't help laughing as she pulled him away. "It doesn't belong to me. I'd have to replace it." "Isn't all of this yours, Cassandra?" "I'm just a kind of caretaker here. My own home is a small apartment near the college where I study." "Are all homes in this time similarly equipped with so many labor saving devises?" Cassie spent the next two hours following Reid from the attic to the basement of the house as he rushed from one marvel to the next. He wanted to know all about radio waves. The television fascinated him. She ended up doing a load of laundry just so he could see how the washer agitated. The gas log fireplace amused him until he saw the huge furnace in the basement. Finally Cassie showed him to the bathroom in the master bedroom, demonstrated how everything worked, and left him to it. She collapsed in an exhausted heap on the king-sized bed.

In her sleep she looks vulnerable and fragile, Reid thought as he stood over Cassandra. The shower had washed away his fatigue. He was ready to explore this exciting new world again, but his guide was worn out. He covered her with a light blanket from the foot of the bed and padded out of the room in his bare feet. Only the towel around his hips covered any of him. He stretched, reveling in the tightening of muscles long unused. His skin fairly sang after the zinging sting of the water in the -- what had she called it? -Shower. Imagine, hot water on demand. He thought back to the large hot water heater in the basement. Another look was in order. Maybe, without Cassandra leaning over his shoulder and distracting him, he could figure out how the contraption worked.

Lights came on as he passed from one room into another and turned off as he left. Motion detectors did that, she had explained. Whatever they were, they seemed more like magic than anything. He passed a room Cassandra had not shown him before. Curiosity pricked him and he stepped through the doorway. Walls lined with cases filled with books met his astonished eyes. The room, library really, was paneled in dark walnut that gleamed softly in the light of one lamp. Except for the heap of books and papers on the desk in the center of the room, it was as organized as any professional research center would be. The heap caught his eye. Books, notebooks and the cloth pack they spilled out of, looked like they'd been moved here hurriedly. One slim volume sat apart from the rest. The book had fallen open to the title page, The Poems of Emily Dickenson. Reid frowned. He had no recollection of a poet by that name. Poetry seemed inconsistent with his image of Cassandra. If this was hers, it proved her practical veneer was just that, a shell holding the soul of a romantic in hiding. The thought brought a smile to his lips. He held onto the volume as he looked at the rest of the books. Ah, these were the tools she used to prove herself to the rest of the world; histories, genealogies, texts of architecture ?. Key words unfolded. He discovered that it was his own time, and place in it, that she was studying so hard. One book was titled An American History. Dread touched him as he began to open it. He couldn't. Didn't want to know. Not now, not when now was so fresh and new. He stepped back from the desk and focused on the book in his hand. It had been so long since he'd simply enjoyed anything. If Cassandra enjoyed this poetry, he would give it a try. The library, though filled with the wonders of books and knowledge, struck Reid as a cold place to read poetry. He made his way back to the room where he had first woke. Instead of sitting immediately, he approached the large glass wall. Cassandra had called it a sliding door. At his approach, a single spotlight shone on a patio outside. He saw cushioned chairs arranged around a table with yet more glass for the top. Other chairs and chaises were settled near a larger, wooden structure. The small clearing of light, surrounded by peaceful sounds of night, invited Reid. He chose one of the chairs near the wooden structure. A humming sound distracted him. It came from that thing. He heard water splashing. When he put a hand on the cover and lifted it, steam rose in lazy tendrils. Reid pushed the cover all the way back. A small yellow duck floated into view and surprised a smile from Reid's face. With little more than a thought, he dropped the towel where he stood and climbed in.

Someone should turn the air conditioner down, Cassie thought and snuggled deeper into the plush blanket that covered her. Wait a minute, her eyes popped open, who had covered her? She looked at the clock on the nightstand. It showed nearly dawn. That made sense, by the time Reid had eaten and she'd taken him on a whirlwind tour of the house, it had been nearly three in the morning. A smile played over her lips as she thought of Reid ? the real man, not a ghost or figment of her imagination. This was more complicated, but better, than any dream she'd ever had. His words and actions had convinced her she had nothing to fear from him. She settled back down with a contented sigh and remembered the way his eyes lit at each new mechanism she had shown him. Deliberately she pushed his kiss, hard and at the same time devastatingly breathtaking as it was, out of her mind. Then she sat up again and glanced toward the bathroom door. It was open. The small room

was empty, though the faint scent of soap and shampoo lingered in the air. She stumbled over something soft on the floor, his clothes. He couldn't have gone far naked. The image her mind's eye called up stopped her in her tracks. Her imagination ran rampant as she guessed at what lay under his silk and satin clothing. She shook her head and berated herself, "Get a grip Cassandra Jane. The man needs your help. Keep lust out of it." Sure, she'd have to be bereft of all her sense to do that, but she had to try. Even so, when Cassie washed in the bathroom, the mirror showed a flushed face and shining eyes staring back at her. The face of anticipation. Time to find her guest. Barely damp patches in the carpet guided her barefooted way through the house. In the library, where she had dumped her books and research material earlier, she found a neat pile where she'd left chaos. Damp foot marks led her to the sliding glass doors in the family room. Guided by the lights on the patio, Cassie stepped into the pre-dawn hush. The only sound that greeted her was of the hot tub bubbling away. She found Reid asleep there, his head supported by the side of the tub, arms and hands relaxed and floating at his side. How long he'd been there was guesswork ?. Couldn't be too long though, considering the state of the carpet inside. The soft lights inside the hot tub illuminated his naked body. Cassie couldn't help but take a peak. She held her breath at the wonder of the male form in all its masculine glory. Reid's arms and chest were muscular, yet wiry. His torso narrowed to slender hips and the manhood that reposed there. Cassie skimmed over that, the role of voyeur an uncomfortable one. His thighs and calves looked strong, yet supple, suggesting years of horseback riding. She focused on his face. The lines of care and worry had relaxed. Though Cassie didn't think such a masculine face could ever look innocent, the peace that sleep brought him was clear. It took her breath away. She leaned her arms against the top of the hot tub and resisted the urge to follow his profile with the tip of her finger. She simply gazed on him, content in the knowledge that he wouldn't disappear in a flash of agony tonight. It was more of a gift than she'd bargained for when she had thrown herself between the sword and Reid. Even now, with the physical evidence of her act undeniably corporeal, the result of her actions astounded her. All of yesterday now seemed like a fast moving dream, until the moment of stark terror when she had realized Reid would die yet again. Until that moment, her feelings for him had lain dormant. Yet, after speaking with him, learning his heart and his head in a way more intimate than familiar, something had crystallized where a fog of emotion had been. In that scant fraction of time, Cassie knew watching Reid die again would pierce her own heart just as deeply. Her act seemed selfish in retrospect. Considering the fact that she may have let Hunter loose upon the twentieth century in the process of saving Reid, maybe it was selfish. Did she regret it? She let a hand trail through the hot bubbling water. The easy current pulled it towards Reid. No, she wouldn't feel regret. But, what was she going to do with him?

A shy grin escaped her. She knew what she'd like to do, but wasn't bold enough to dare. The hot tub appeared tranquil now, but she knew it was a lot like her own wakening emotions ? hot and stirred up under the surface. Yes, he might have taken advantage of her with that kiss. She understood his desire to feel truly alive after years of unimaginable imprisonment. Cassie had berated him for it, but it was more because of the way she had melted at his touch, lost her own control, than anything. In truth, he was more vulnerable than she. This was no level playing field. Heck, she wasn't even sure of the game. What she did know was that she wanted to be near him, and do whatever was in her power to help him. As she gazed at his peaceful face, she knew that when he wakened he'd want to start looking for Hunter, in whatever form he'd taken. Cassie shivered. She was responsible for freeing that malevolent spirit upon the world. The revelation made her cringe, and strengthened her resolve not to take advantage of Reid. She'd have to rein in her feelings for him. There would be no instigating of passionate kisses on her part. In the next instant she realized that Reid did have some say in her conduct. She found herself seized by his strong arms and pulled into the swirling water, floating, flailing above his naked lap. "Hey," Cassie sputtered. "What's the --" His kiss, heated and demanding, cut off her indignant speech. She struggled briefly, then settled in to enjoy the combination of hot water and hot tongue that caused her blood to race, like wildfire, through her veins. Strike that; nothing about this kiss settled her. It skittered through her in wild abandon, leaving her breathless and clinging helplessly to Reid's slick shoulders. As his mouth caressed her earlobe, then ran down the side of her neck to her throat, she became aware of the hardening of his manhood. It pulsed against her. Its proximity, and the release it promised was kept away only by her own will and the clothes she wore. I've got to stop this. Instead she plunged her fingers through Reid's thick hair and pulled him back to her mouth. A groan, primal and deep, sounded from one of them. As if it were a signal, they pulled away from each other in the same instant. Both panted. Reid's silvery gaze reflected Cassie's dazed state of mind. A movement on the verge of grass separating the patio from the surrounding woods pulled Cassie's attention from Reid. Twin gleams of red stared at her from the shadows. A hiss, she was sure of it, pushed at her ears. The shadow, darker than the deep of night before dawn, crept from the woods. An oily patch of evil, it flowed, slowly, towards the hot tub. A knot formed in her gut. She shuddered. "No, not again." She backed away from Reid. "It's coming, just like in my dream." She was more awake now than she'd ever been. The creeping terror would not simply disappear. The light of passion left Reid's eyes. He turned his head to see what drew Cassie's attention. "What witchcraft is this?" he muttered. "And me without my sword."

Cassie reached out a hand to stop Reid. "Wait, it -- it's going away." She watched the patch of darkness recede as the sun peeked its way above the horizon. Reid ignored her. Still weaponless, naked and thrilling in the original sense of the word, he climbed out of the tub. The last thing Cassie saw, before he vanished into the woods in the wake of the shadow, was water sluicing off his muscular buttocks. "Oh no." She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, she followed him. Sure, the inky, evil slime that he followed squeezed her heart with terror. That was the reason she couldn't let him face it alone. As she stepped into the shadows of the trees, she realized the eerie quiet. Unusual -- what was missing? Bird song, that was it. At sunrise every day, the cardinals who nested in the tree above her bedroom window greeted the dawn. They made her alarm clock an unnecessary intrusion. After the cardinals, the raucous crows called their way into the morning. The more polite chickadees and wrens followed. Even the usually chattering squirrels kept silent this morning. Dripping, Cassie followed the trail of silence. It was easy. Neither Reid, nor whatever he followed, made an attempt to cover the noise they made thrashing through the brush. A raspberry vine, sharp with thorns, struck Cassie across the arm. "Ouch." She slowed her headlong rush, then stopped to regain her bearings. This part of Virginia, though thickly wooded and private, was also densely populated. She should have come across the access road to the house by now. Even this early in the morning the sounds of early commuters should have been clear and nearby. She stretched her ears, straining to hear the sounds of civilization. She'd welcome the intrusion for a change. It would bring a touch of reality to recent events. Seconds stretched into minutes. Her ears strained. Tension pulled her heart into her throat. Finally, she could stand it no longer. "Reid," she called. A motor's hum and the sound of screeching tires followed closely by an automobile's irritating honk, gave her direction. She struggled through the dead leaves and low brush. Dew-damp branches slapped her face and swept through her hair. If they'd been hands, her hair would?ve been pulled out by the roots. Finally, she broke into a patch of clear meadow lit by crystal sunlight. It edged the road. She caught a glimpse of red tail lights flashing in the distance. Reid, in naked glory, stood by the side of the road, his fists clenched and his face a mask of anger. More cars approached. Cassie recognized this portion of the road by the sharp bend just to the north of the clearing. An intersection met there, the traffic signal lights must have changed. "Come on, you've got to get away from here." She grabbed Reid's shoulder and pulled him into the concealment of the surrounding trees before the first commuter car came around the bend. He resisted, but she kept her grip firm until they were well into the shadows of the trees. His perfect skin was red where he'd been scratched by the same branches Cassie had taken the time to thrust out of her path. Fear for him turned to anger, then amusement.

"Was it that terrible that you had to jump out of the tub and run through brambles to get away from me, Reid?" Cassie asked softly, a touch of laughter in her voice. Amusement fled at the flat, cold look he turned on her. She forgot he was naked, forgot anything she ever knew about the human condition. Reid's voice was even colder, more emotionless, than his eyes. "He watched us. God knows how long he stood there and watched." A pause. "I almost had him." "Who? Who watched?" Cassie touched his arm and flinched from the hard, unyielding flesh. "It was Hunter. The bastard is here. And I know what he wants."

Chapter Eight

Reid maintained his silence as he led Cassie unerringly back to the house. The sight of his tight, tanned buttocks moving in front of her, distracted Cassie, as did her view of Reid's broad shoulders and fit torso. She barely registered the sting of gnats and the slap of branches against her face as she stumbled to keep pace with him. When he stepped from the woods into the now sunlit glade between the trees and the patio, Reid's pace slackened. Cassie saw his shoulders shudder. She wondered if he'd tell her why. His pause allowed her to catch up with him. His glance chilled her more than the damp clothes she wore. The cold appraisal Reid turned her way reached to the depths of her soul. Whatever he glimpsed in her own eyes caused him to smile, if such a grimace could be called that. The corners of his mouth turned up and he marched on. His steps barely faltered as he reached for his towel, which was puddled on the tiles by the hot tub. Cassie stopped to pull down the insulated cover of the hot tub before following him into the cool stillness of the house. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she asked in bewildered exasperation when she caught up with him in the master bedroom. He was pulling on the clothes he'd recently pulled off, and searching around as if he'd misplaced an article of clothing. His response was succinct, and not at all informative. "Dressing." "Why? Are you going somewhere?" "Do you have some reason for keeping me naked, Mistress?" Reid's eyes glinted. Cassie blushed. "If it will keep you from doing something stupid," she retorted. His attitude sparked an unfamiliar boldness and rebelliousness in her. She seized the invigorating power of it and put it into her words as she pulled men's clothing from the dressers and closets of her hosts.

"Before you go off to do battle with this enemy of yours, consider the consequences." "I'm listening," Reid said as he pulled on a pair of briefs. Cassie caught him snapping the elastic waistband. She grinned and almost laughed at his childlike delight. She managed to hold it in. "Good. You said Hunter was dangerous, that he once took pleasure in causing pain to others to get to you. If this is still the case, don't you think it would be to your advantage to be inconspicuous, lay low, for a time? You need rest. More than that, you need to come to terms with the challenges of adapting to this century. Besides, you don't know where Hunter is. Give Maigret and me time to find him for you." "I don't let others stand in my place when danger beckons," Reid replied, his voice as heated as Cassie's. "If you understand nothing else, understand this -- I have caused irreparable harm to those whose innocence could not save them. They suffered for me. I owe this revenge to Elizabeth and to both our families for the disgrace that Hunter brought upon them. No one can do this for me. It is my fate. I will not allow you or anyone else to put themselves in danger for me." Cassie looked into Reid's eyes. They swirled with a dark emotion that frightened her. He had clasped her by the shoulders as he spoke. Now his strong hands threatened to bruise her with the strength of the emotion that coursed through him. Something of his need, his pain, this consuming drive to make up for past deeds transmitted itself to Cassie. It brought tears to her eyes. For uncounted years he'd fought the darkness alone. He would do so again, not realizing he was alone no longer. "I understand more than you know," she whispered. She saw a softness come into his eyes, then watched as he physically willed the expression of gratitude away. Reid pulled his hands away as if they touched hot metal. "You understand little," he commented, his tone mild now and chiding. "But you are correct that I need more knowledge of this century to find my quarry and take him. This I will let you help me with." This admission cost Reid a great deal of pride. Though he came from a large, loving family, he enjoyed the challenge of fending for himself. Even as a spy for General Washington among the British, Reid had refused any aid. He'd always feared to place another person in jeopardy. In the end, he'd taken the punishment and caused the scandal that should have been Hunter's reward for treachery. Anger seethed through him again. It was as fresh as if just yesterday that Hunter had pointed to him and thrown the papers that proved him a "traitor" to the county magistrate. Reid remembered with pain the expression of disgust on his father's face, the reflected sorrow on his mother's. The hesitant touch of a comforting hand brought him from his reverie. As he regarded her, Reid saw a marked difference between Cassandra and his lost Elizabeth that he'd missed before. In the depths of Cassandra's deep brown eyes, in the set of her full lips, Reid saw iron strength. It was coupled with a reservoir of sympathy that he'd never found in Elizabeth. Cassandra had thrown herself between him and a sword. Would Elizabeth have had the courage to do such a thing? His world tilted as he remembered the bitter expression on Elizabeth's face when he had seen her that last time. Again, in the rose garden of her father's house at Eagle's Aerie. Again, he had asked her to marry him. This time he had planned to run away with her. They'd find a hiding place until he could prove

Hunter's words false. It was the only way Reid knew to regain his and his family's honor. With the knowledge he now had, he understood the terror in her eyes. The reason she'd clutched her shawl tightly around her slight form was clear now, though at the time it had rankled. She hadn't let him touch her. She'd recoiled from him as if he carried a repulsive disease. Hunter had already seduced her. She carried his child. Her pride, her fear, her love for Reid had kept her from telling him the truth. Instead, she'd refused his hand and left him bereft. Reid focused on Cassandra's face. So strong. If it weren't for Hunter -- Reid hardened his will. Hunter must not harm this woman, or anyone else, ever. "I'll help in any way you will let me," Reid heard Cassandra say. The upward tilt to her chin told him more than the mild words revealed. He almost laughed at her defiance, then realized that would give him away. Keeping her at an arm's distance, for her safety, was one thing. In order to focus on the task at hand he must keeping from sweeping her into his arms for another taste from her warm lips "I need a history lesson," he said. "You've come to the right person." She laughed. "I'm working on my Master's Degree in American History. The library in town is the best place to start." "You must change into dry clothing. But before you do, tell me how that remarkable coffee maker works." He joined Cassandra's laughter and followed her into the kitchen.

Reid's wonder at the mechanics of forced air heating and cooling couldn't compare to the awe that overwhelmed him at Cassandra's car. His lips burned with unasked questions. For the first time in his life he knew what true ignorance was. His classical education, from Latin, Greek, and logic, did little to explain the internal combustion engine, as Cassandra called it when he asked what powered the vehicle. "This library, does it have books that explain this engine?" Reid asked as he mimicked Cassandra's motions and fastened the seatbelt. His head brushed the roof of the small compartment. He found he could move his seat back and forth with the touch of a small lever on the side. "Of course, we can find information on just about anything you want. The Tidewater Gazette goes back to your time. I'll check back issues for information concerning your family, Elizabeth's, and Hunter's." She turned the key in the ignition. Reid sat motionless as Cassie backed the car onto the drive, then put it into first gear, gained speed and merged into the traffic of the street. She glanced over at him. His eyes were wide and his head turned as far as it could in all directions. When he relaxed his white-knuckled grip of the armrest, she knew his curiosity at the surroundings rushing by had conquered his well-disguised anxiety of traveling by automobile. She expected questions, lots of them, so his continued silence intrigued her. Just as she was about to ask him if he was all right, he startled her with the one question she hadn?t expected. "Do you have a beau, Cassandra?" "A beau?"

"Yes, a gentleman caller. A man who cares for you, spends time with you." She thought of "Mr. Vanilla." He certainly didn't count. "No." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reid nod briefly. They stopped at a red traffic light and he asked a more conventional question. "What compels the drivers of all the other cars to stop or go at the command of a colored light?" They spent the next five minutes discussing the paradox of independent Americans obeying inanimate controls. Cassie was glad to pull into a parking space at the community library. She wasn't used to discussing the ways and morays of society. Dusty archives and glowing screens of microfiche readers were more her area of expertise. An hour later, Cassie took off her reading glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. Several crucial issues of the early Tidewater Gazette were missing and unaccounted for. She'd found only cursory information concerning area residents, mostly of a social nature. Several political speeches had been reprinted. The usual advertisements for dry goods, lotions, and potions took up space. Nowhere had she come across the name "Hunter" or "Penwarren." She'd just about decided a visit to the Library of Congress in Washington D.C. was called for, when Reid's voice whispered in her ear. "You mean to tell me that I may borrow any book here that I wish?" She turned to find him nose to nose with her. His eyes sparkled with a glee that she could only say she'd seen in the eyes of her seven-year-old nephew the day she'd offered him any ice cream treat he wanted. The combination of mature good looks and boyish enthusiasm delighted her. She resisted a compelling desire to take his face into her hands and kiss him on the lips. She actually had her hands halfway to his face when she realized what she was doing. Instead she matched him grin for grin. "I take it you found something of interest?" "You didn't mention the moon and planets and space vehicles before, Cassandra. Architecture, metal work, printing, not to mention the wonders of electricity, which you've already introduced me to. I have a lot to catch up on." "Indeed," was all Cassie could say when she saw the pile of books he had waiting to check out. Unless he was a speed reader, it would take him weeks to work his way through the stack. "Alas, I lack time." He set the books on the table. "My energies must be focused on finding Hunter." Cassie wished he had the weeks to read and learn and stay with her. She pushed away the disappointment. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Reid asked on the way to the car. "No, I ran into a dead end in March 1777." She looked at her watch. "After lunch we'll go into the Capital and search the Archives and maybe the Library of Congress." She stopped abruptly in the middle of the parking lot. "Lunch, oh no. I'm supposed to meet my mother for lunch today. I'm late." "What's your mother like?"

Cassie shook her head. "Uh, she's different. I don't think you're quite ready to meet her yet. Let's just say, she puts her own particular twist on things." "She sounds just like you." Cassie laughed and stepped towards her car again. "No, she's just the opposite of me. I'll take you back to the house and call the restaurant from there. I'll reschedule for another day." "I can't allow my presence to keep you from a promised meeting. I'd like to meet this mother of yours. And I'm hungry." This last statement left Cassie with little choice. She would sound rude and insensitive if she didn't bring Reid along. Her mother was going to love this. "Okay," Cassie said. "Just keep an open mind about anything she says."

As Cassie searched for a parking space near the restaurant where she'd agreed to meet her mother, she caught a glimpse of Constance Pierce. She sat at a table on the outside patio under a green umbrella. Cassie's sigh was not at her mother's being there, rather that she was dressed more conventionally than recent memory allowed. Of late, Constance had taken to wearing voluminous caftans printed in wild colors and sporting suns, moons, and stars in the motif. Today Constance was wearing conservative black. She looked chic even as the thermometer neared ninety. When Cassie and Reid neared her, Cassie saw that the dark dress was shot with silver thread. Constance wore the usual assortment of dangling crystals, both around her neck and as earrings. At least she's quit carrying around the crystal ball and wearing the turban, Cassie thought. "Mom, I'd like you to meet Reid Phillips. Reid, my mother, Constance Pierce." Constance looked years younger after Reid took her hand and kissed it with old-fashioned charm. "You're much more charming than Cassandra's usual escorts, Mr. Phillips." Cassie sputtered and choked on her ice water at her mother's remark. Trust Mom to embarrass me right off. "I'd be most interested to hear about Cassandra's usual escorts, Mistress Pierce. Have there been many?" Reid asked. His voice was all innocence. "Please, call me Constance." "Mother," Cassie warned. After a moment of hesitation, Constance heeded Cassie's tone. "I'm afraid divulging details is up to Cassandra. My oldest daughter and I agree on very little, except that we differ on almost everything. I'll just say that you seem to have at least some character."

"Well, I'm ready to order," Cassie interrupted. "They serve a lovely chestnut soup here, Reid. And their avocado and bean sprout sandwich is wonderful. Don't you think so, Mom?" Thankfully, Reid and Constance turned their attention to the menus and away from Cassie's love-life. "This won't do. This will not do," Reid muttered and threw the menu down. "Reid?" Cassie queried. "I do not understand the prices. They are exorbitant for such simple fare and small quantities. A man could beggar himself trying to get enough food to sustain himself here," Reid said, not trying to lower his voice. "Hush, you're making a scene." "I'm making a scene?" He whispered this time, but it was the loudest "stage whisper" Cassie'd ever heard. "What are those women doing dressed like that in public? Complaining about high prices is one thing, but to wear such little clothing in public is quite another." "What are you --" Cassie's voice trailed off as she followed Reid's gaze to the group of teen-aged girls who were window shopping near-by. Shoulder and midriff baring halter top and the barest of shorts was the uniform of the day. In the heat and humidity, Cassie couldn't blame them. Obviously, Reid could. She almost laughed, but his look of pained embarrassment kept her from chuckling out loud. She touched his hand. When his gaze shifted back to her, she struggled to find the words to reassure him. "Women have made great strides, Reid. One of which is to dress for comfort rather than follow outmoded fashion strictures. Don't they look cool and comfortable, not all laced into corsets and heaving long dusty skirts around in the noon day sun?" "Have they no modesty?" Constance chimed in. For once, Cassie was glad to let her enter the conversation. "Modesty is all relative, isn't it, Reid? Why, in the jungles of South America, those girls would be over-dressed. In other nations, they'd be arrested for indecent exposure and subject to punishment as severe as stoning or even death." Reid thought a moment and rubbed his chin. He chuckled. "I over-react, of course. Your time, your rules. However," he glanced at the modest, knee-length flowing skirt and short-sleeved linen blouse Cassie wore, "I'm glad you have more sense, Mistress." Cassie flushed at his words. She remembered his naked body striding through the woods with no shame or sense of impropriety this morning. Sense? The fact that she was sitting here with this man out of time, with her mother as spectator, showed her just how little sense she possessed. Constance said, "Where are you from, Reid? Your accent is quite lovely, sort of a melding of British and American. I can't quite place it. Australia, perhaps?" "I'm a Virginian, born and bred, Madam -- Constance. My family -- Ooof." Cassie kicked him under

the table. "Reid's been gone a long time, Mom. He's just recently back for a visit. I met him at Eagle's Aerie." The waiter's arrival saved her from more explanations. By the time the order was taken, over Reid's continued, though more restrained complaints about the prices, Constance changed subjects again. "I wonder where she could be." "Who, Mom?" "I asked my friend Maigret, you remember I spoke of her, to join us. She's never late." "If you're talking about Maigret Penwarren, we've met," Cassie said. "She's okay, for a witch that is." "Don't laugh, Cassandra. Maigret is quite proud of her family and heritage. It would hurt her if she sensed that you were a skeptic." "She already knows, Mom. She didn't turn me into a frog. See, no webbed hands." She spread her fingers wide and showed them to her mother. "Maybe she's been delayed. You know, a spell gone awry or something." "I'm going to call her house while we're waiting for our food anyway. I'm getting bad vibes." Constance left the table in search of a telephone. "The Penwarren family I knew could heal anybody, body or mind. They were powerful, too powerful in the end," Reid said, his voice laced with bitterness. Cassie took both of his clenched hands in hers. "Maigret knows," she soothed, "that Hunter was a Penwarren who misused his powers. That's why she's so determined to help. She feels a family responsibility to right a wrong." Reid relaxed slowly. "I have no right to allow you to continue this dangerous quest." He turned his hands so that now he grasped Cassie's. "Fortunately, I didn't ask for your permission," she quipped. The atmosphere around the small table rapidly grew hotter than the air around them. If the heat from Reid's eyes touched anything but her, it would evaporate instantly. Cassie forced herself to treat the subject lightly or she would be the one burning. "I share some responsibility with Maigret. Remember? My action loosed him in this time. Teamwork is called for, not pride." "Pride is one of the few things I have left," Reid said, but he smiled and relaxed his grip on Cassie's hands. He changed the subject. "I do not like lying to your mother." "We didn't lie, exactly," Cassie squirmed. "We told enough, just enough, of the truth. You have been away for a while. You are here for a visit. How can that be a lie?" Even as she said the words, her heart shrank at the truth of them. Her feelings for Reid multiplied with

each moment they spent together, yet they had no future together. Except for a terrible twist of fate, they would never have met. Now, soon, she would have to find the strength to let him go back to whatever fate decreed for him. She'd return to her own life. "I left another message on her machine," Constance sat in her chair and their food arrived at the same time. "This is the third message in two days. I tried her brother. He's unavailable, as well." "I'm sure she's fine, Mom," Cassie said. "Maigret's a big witch. She knows how to take care of herself." "If only I didn't have such a premonition of danger surrounding her." Constance's eyes flashed to Reid. "You." She pointed at him. "You're involved in this somehow. How could I have missed it before? The aura surrounding you practically palpitates with urgency." "Mother, please calm down. People are staring." "Yes, of course you're right. This is neither the time nor place." Constance turned contemplative. "There's no help for it, you'll have to tell me everything." Cassie barely kept up with her change of mood. "Mother, what does that mean?" "The truth would be a start." "I told you --" Reid began. Cassie put a hand to his mouth. The kiss he bestowed on her palm flustered her, but she pulled her wits back about her and tried another explanation on her mother. "When I met Maigret the other day, she offered to help me with something. Maybe she's busy with that." This was the truth too, mostly. "Hmmm. I will wait one more day. Then I'll start my own investigation." With that, Constance applied herself to her meal.

Chapter Nine

"We must wait for Maigret," Cassie urged. "I have lost enough time already. What can waiting longer accomplish?" Reid continued the argument they had tossed back and forth to each other all the way home from the restaurant. "She has access to Penwarren records which may help us defeat Hunter. That is what you want, isn't it?" Cassie's voice cracked in exasperation. "Defeat him? Truth to tell, Mistress Cassandra, I'm not sure what that means. To send him to his ultimate fate, yes, that would be a sweet revenge, yet is it enough for the centuries of torture? The pain he inflicted on my family and Elizabeth's? True death may be too good for such a traitorous coward as Geoffrey

Hunter." Cassie pulled her car into the garage and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. The beginnings of a headache stretched above her eyes. Her brain felt like that wool she'd been carding the evening this had all begun. It seemed eons ago yet only two, maybe three days had passed ?. Light-headed, losing track of time, tense jaw -- all symptoms she recognized as exhaustion. If she didn't sleep soon, she'd collapse in a weeping mess that had nothing to do with emotions. With some effort of will, Cassie lifted her head and turned to Reid. His jaw twitched and his hands clenched as he stared out the windshield. They needed Maigret. A sense of unease surged through Cassie. Her mother's concern for the witch had made an impression. Something was wrong. She'd think of some way to handle it, just as soon as she could think a coherent thought again. Maybe -"Come on, maybe Maigret left a message on the answering machine." She hoisted herself from the car, rapped her shin against the metal frame for her trouble, and yelped. Reid had her in his arms before she could say she was all right. She decided against saying anything. She felt safe and secure nestled against his chest. Her hands, braced against his shirt front, made tiny circling patterns against the soft cotton of his shirt. I should push him away, stand on my own two feet. Instead, her hands wound their way up to his shoulders. Reid tensed against her. He tightened his hold on her. His breath whispered in Cassie's hair, then caressed her ear. If she weren't so tired she would fight this unreasoning attraction. She knew it. Right now, it was all she could do not to climb into his arms and let him rock her forever. He stiffened and held her at arms length. Through sleepy eyes, Cassie saw a grimace darken his face. An expression of sadness flitted from his eyes to his mouth. "It would be easy to give in and take advantage of you, Mistress. But neither fair, nor right." Cassie nodded in understanding. She'd been waiting a lifetime to feel the longing that coursed through her at this moment. Regretfully, she put it aside. Their time was not now, perhaps would never be. He was lost in time, and she yearned to find him a home. But, he was right. Damn. "Let's see if Maigret's checked in," Cassie said, and led him into the house. Her lethargy fled at the sight that greeted their eyes. It was as if an unrestrained rage had swept through the house. Shards of broken plates and glasses covered the kitchen floor. They crunched beneath Cassie's feet as she rushed into the family room. Here, books lay open. Ripped pages obscured the floor. The television tube was smashed. Stuffing from gutted couches littered the carpeting. Reid's hand on her shoulder restrained Cassie from further search.

"Who ever did this might still be here, Mistress. Get you away. Find help." "No one could have gotten in without tripping the alarm. I set it, like I always do, when we left." Light-headed, she swayed and caught at the fireplace mantle to steady herself. "An electronic alarm? Would it have alerted the authorities of an intruder?" "Yes. I'll try the telephone." The last time an electronic alarm had failed to keep out intruders, she'd found an unearthly sword fight going on. The telephone was ripped from the wall. The cord dangled ineffectively from the set. "There's a phone in the Mercedes," Cassie remembered. "I'll try that." "Do that, I'll look around." "Don't touch anything, Reid," Cassie warned. "The police might be able to find fingerprints." Reid looked at the tips of his own fingers but refrained from asking the obvious question. He nodded, and Cassie went out to the garage. Thank goodness the car phone worked. Cassie called the police, who said they'd have a car right over. She found Reid in the library. He was standing in the middle of its chaos, fists gripped tight, stiff-armed. Cassie had never seen such a look of fierce determination before. "At least we weren't here when the burglars broke in," she said, hoping to relieve his anger. "It's happening already," Reid said. "This is not the work of an ordinary thief." "How can you know that?" "Look at the wanton destruction. Was anything of value taken?" Cassie returned to the family room. Though destroyed, the electronic entertainment equipment remained. Strange. Such items would be easily sold on the black market or pawned for ready cash. She went from room to room, trying to ignore, not very successfully, the destruction and concentrate on what was missing. Even her hostess' jewelry, mostly expensive costume pieces since she kept the real stones in a bank vault, was untouched. "If not burglary, then what?" Cassie asked when she rejoined Reid in the library. She caught him as he tried to rub something off the wall. "Don't look, Cassandra. This message was meant for me." Reid tried to stop her, but she pushed by him. Painted, she hoped it was paint, in large red letters, were the words, "You cannot run from fate, time or me." "Does this mean --?" Cassie spoke. "What else can it mean? Hunter has found me, and you. This is just a small measure of his evil. And probably the only warning I'll get."

"I wish Maigret were here," Cassie said. "I noticed that the only place that wasn't marked or had some kind of destruction in it, was the magic circle she drew around me the other night." Reid showed her a smaller smudge of graffiti. "I didn't know what to think of this. Perhaps something to do with Maigret?" The words said, "Which witch is next?" "Could he have taken Maigret, maybe sensed the family connection and power and took her somewhere where we can't find her?" "It is possible, but where --" Knocking on the front door cut off his words. "That must be the police." Cassie paused. "How do I explain you?" "What is to explain, Mistress? I am a friend who happened to be with you." "I know, but sooner or later someone will wonder about where you are from. My mother got closer than I was comfortable with." The knocking sounded louder. "Answer the door, Cassandra. Before they break it down."

"The Detective suggested I not stay here alone tonight," Cassie said once the police had left. "He noticed, the same as you did, that this was no ordinary burglary. I'm to let him know where he can reach me. Now I've got to call the Johannson's. This is their house. I'm responsible. I hope they have a good insurance policy." "You do that," Reid said, without looking up from the book fragments he was putting back together. His concentration caught Cassie's curiosity. "What's that?" "I believe this is the remnants of one of Maigret's books. See the pentagram, and the writing is a form of Latin. I'm hoping there is some clue here as to her whereabouts." "Good luck. If you can't find anything there, I'll try to get in touch with her brother." When she returned from using the car phone again, several calls later -- the phone company, the Johannson's, and their insurance representative -- Reid was still at it. "She had a laptop computer with her the other night," Cassie remembered. "What, pray tell, is a 'computer'?" "An electronic information storage devise. Maigret said she had a bunch of spells on it. I don't see it though. She must have taken it with her this morning." Exhaustion wrapped its tendrils around Cassie. Now that the current crisis was over, all she wanted was

sleep. A good eight to ten hour stretch would be perfect. "Reid, I can't stay awake any longer. I'll clean off a guest bed for you. I'm afraid it's the best I can do under the circumstances." "You will sleep here? After what has happened?" "Of course, didn't you hear me say I was responsible? Until the alarm company comes to fix the security system, I can't leave the house unguarded." "Most unwise, Cassandra. And damned inconvenient." Cassie's sleep filled brain heard the last phrase on a subliminal level. How could her sleeping here inconvenience him? Oh! "You were going to investigate without me? I thought we agreed to do it together." Reid said grimly, "That was before Hunter's latest attack. Look around you Cassandra. He is swift, accurate, and I assure you, deadly. I think we can assume that he knows I am staying with you. With me or without me, you are in danger. I'd prefer you to be somewhere else alone. Or with me, so I can protect you." "I'm safe enough. The security firm is run by the same company that performs the service at Eagle's Aerie. The owner is a family friend. I'm sure as soon as he gets my message, he'll be right over, or send Bob." "Bob, the same man who came to the door last night?" "Yes, I've known him for years." She yawned and turned towards the bedroom wing. "I'll make up the bed in the room across from mine." She grinned wryly at the mess surrounding them both. "I don't feel like much of a hostess right now, but Mr. Johannson said to leave everything the way it is for the insurance man to see. And frankly, I'm too bushed to clean anything." "Sleep, Mistress. I have no need of it at present. Perhaps my journey on the other side removed the need for sleep from me. In any case, I will try to put together some pieces of this puzzle. I believe a strategic clue is under our noses, but we've missed it somehow." Cassie left Reid mumbling to himself. Once she had crawled between the soft, cool sheets, she knew nothing until the shrill ringing of the telephone woke her. She fumbled for the hand set. The whole instrument fell to the floor with a crash. Finally, she managed to arrange the telephone and her ears in the right alignment. "Hello?" Fred's worried voice woke Cassie the rest of the way. "Cassie Pierce, you're late for work. And why didn't you call me at home when the security system failed?" "What time is it? Oh, no, it's late. I'm sorry Fred. I'll get there right away." "Hold on a minute, Missy. Is Bob there? I left him a message to get over there and fix the alarm." "I've been asleep for hours. I haven't heard from or seen Bob. As far as I know, no one's been here

since the police left," Cassie said. A long silence filled the electronic air space, then Fred said, "Cassandra, it's not wise to stay there alone, especially after one burglary. I'm sure the Johannson's will understand if you go somewhere else." "I'm not alone, Fred. And I talked to Mr. Johannson. He wants me to go somewhere else too, for safety, he said. I can't. My responsibility is here, at least for the time being." "You're as stubborn as your mother is crazy," Fred said, and sighed. "Get yourself over here right now. I'll fix your alarm system myself since Bob hasn't shown up." "On my way --" "Who did you say was staying there with you?" "I didn't. See you later." Cassie hung up the telephone. The last thing she wanted was to explain Reid to Fred. Now that she'd had some rest, Cassie's brain functioned more rationally. Instead of dressing immediately, she mulled. Maigret's apparent disappearance disturbed her. Granted, they hadn't known each other for long, only a couple of days, but Maigret seemed the type of person who'd stay in touch if she wasn't going to meet you when she said she would. And she was supposed to have met Cassie's mom for lunch. Perhaps Maigret had been at Eagle's Aerie before business hours. Cassie would check the security log at the estate. The last thing she wanted to do was call Maigret's brother. What to do about Reid? With each moment spent in his company, Cassie wanted to keep him here in this time. His quest for revenge, though understandable, could propel him who knew where. If Hunter were defeated, what would happen to Reid? Their lives, one good, the other evil, were intertwined. Perhaps the fate of one would also become the fate of the other. While she was on the topic of Hunter, where had he disappeared? When she had woken from her faint, finding Reid in the flesh before her, Hunter had been absent. Had Reid seen where the other man fled? She'd have to ask him, though why he hadn't mentioned it himself before this was beyond her. A lot was beyond her right now. She needed to shower, dress, and call that insurance guy again. And before she left the house unprotected, she'd wait for Fred to arrive. So she'd be late getting to work. It wasn't as though she made a habit of it. A movement in the doorway caught her attention. Reid. He stood looking at her, his expression a confusing combination of amusement, interest, and -- what? Desire? She pulled the bedclothes up to her shoulders. The look in his eyes would make a nun feel undressed. "I heard a ringing, then it stopped," Reid said. "The telephone," Cassie motioned to the instrument, "is working again. This one is undamaged." "From my reading, I've learned that the telephone is a long distance voice communication machine. Who were you talking to?"

"Fred, the head of security at Eagle's Aerie. Do you remember, he helped get you to my car the other night?" Reid nodded. Cassie explained, the words coming in a rush as Reid's continued appraisal brought a warmth to her cheeks. "He said he left a message for his helper, Bob, to come over and fix the alarm system. Has he showed up?" "No." "That's not like Bob. He's usually so dependable." She paused, thinking, then continued, "Fred said he'd come over himself to see to the alarm. He also wants to see who'll be staying here with me. Are you ready for the third degree?" "Third degree?" Cassie grinned. "Fred considers me a part of his family, as we consider him a part of ours. As the senior man around, he'll find it necessary to learn all there is to know about the man staying with me." Reid moved closer to the bed. "What would you like him to know about me, Mistress?" Her smile grew into a soft entreaty he found difficult to ignore. Whether she was aware of it or not, Cassandra's combination of intelligent scholar and playful woman made for a heady combination. Reid sat on the edge of her bed. She didn't shy away from him, though he was sure only nightclothes covered her under the sheets. Her blush deepened to a rosy glow. She didn't meet his eyes. "What will you tell this man, Fred, about the stranger you helped the other night? A man whom you know nothing about yet allow to share your lodging." "I know more about you than can be found in a history book or dusty courthouse documents," Cassandra murmured, her voice soft and husky. "How come you by such unique information?" Reid queried. "I watched you fight and die for a woman's honor and for your country. I know that Hunter sullied your reputation and Elizabeth's good name. And I knew, even before I stepped between you and the sword, that you could never commit treason." She spoke softly, yet with a willful defiance. Her words knifed through him. How had he engendered such trust in so short a time? Surely, he did not deserve it. "Mistress, you defend an honor you do not fully understand. In the course of my work for General Washington, I was called upon to lie to my family and friends. It's no wonder Hunter was able to sully my name." He bit the words out, sharp, fast, and without self pity. "It's not just that I want to make it right," Cassandra said. "You and Elizabeth have been stricken from family records. To this day, the only thing I've been able to find out about either of you is that you lived, and died." "As all men and women must."

They sat silent while the sun shone through a small opening in the heavy drapes. A cardinal sang its liquid melody outside the window, calling them back from their thoughts. Cassandra broke the reverie first. "I must be dressed and ready to go by the time Fred arrives." Yet she made no move to get out of bed. Reid remained where he sat. Something more needed to be said before the air was clean between them. She spoke before he had a chance to. "I knew you through my dreams. Not just supposition and Maigret's family rumors. In one dream, after I first saw your apparition fighting with Hunter, I was Elizabeth. You and I danced, then we walked into a fragrant garden. You asked her, me, to marry you. Then, before I, she, could answer, a darkness rose behind you. It contained evil. I woke up." "I danced and walked many times with Elizabeth. We were friends from childhood. Our families' farms adjoined. Not only did I expect to wed her, my parents deemed it a certainty. That I fell in love with her only made the situation sweeter," Reid remembered. "What happened? In my dream and the next one, I received the impression that Elizabeth's parent's, mother anyway, disliked the arrangement. And Elizabeth would not go against their will." Reid rubbed his head at the rush of painful memories. Telling these things to Cassandra brought them back to vivid life. "Yes, Elizabeth was a dutiful daughter. Her parents were in full agreement with the match until I secretly took up with General Washington and became his agent, pretending to be for the British in order to discover their plans. I played my part too well, it seems." "Do you remember helping me find a safe haven in the garden here? You were still incorporeal, yet you spoke to me and seemed to care --" Cassandra's voice trailed off. "Yes, in a dream-like way. I believe your presence started me believing that I wasn't as trapped as I thought. Though, I never expected the trap to be sprung so precipitously. Nor, by such a lovely woman." He reached over and tucked a tendril of hair over her ear so he had a clear view of her profile. Her nose tilted upwards a fraction at the tip, and her ears were dainty and shell pink. He fought back the urge to take her into his arms, afraid that if he started along that path, he'd lose sight of his purpose. That purpose was revenge. Perhaps she sensed his change in mood, or realized how time was passing. Cassandra said, "Please go out, Reid. I must shower and dress. If it's not broken too, the doorbell will sound when Fred arrives. Otherwise he'll knock on the door. Please let him in." Dignity surrounded her more effectively than the light sheets could. Reid left.

Damn the powers that refused him a body of his own. With one, he could have ended Reid's existence at the moment the female had interrupted his purgatory. Instead, he'd been powerless. Fortunately a body had been available nearby, though it wasn't exactly what he was used to. The body was a tight fit after decades, centuries, of expansive nothing. Nothing but hatred, that is. This body was weak. Not the strong, big, healthy body his enemy had regained. Perhaps, when stronger, he could find a better place than this to dwell. Until then, this body had its uses.

The terrified mind of the owner, Bob, howled in the background of his mind. Hunter shut off the sound with a mental shrug that left Bob's soul cowering in fear. Coward. If he weren't so weak from the transition back to real time, he could do what he needed to without the restraint of physical presence. No matter, Hunter had a new instrument to play out this melody. The witch, one of his prettier descendants, lay in a corner of the damp cave, which served as refuge. He touched her unconscious mind briefly and mentally sprang back at the sharp, protective light present there. Evidently she did not serve the same dark master of his own mortality. He remembered ways to turn her to his needs. This time that traitorous bastard would not get away. He'd see Reid Phillips in Hell before long. Long, Hunter snickered. He knew well how irrelevant such a word was in the scheme of things. Time flowed, twisted and turned chaotically. It didn't matter how many counted hours, days, or years this took. In the end, he'd succeed. His dark master always did. The young witch shuddered within her bonds. Her eyelids twitched. She'd waken soon. It was time to begin again.

A shudder shook Reid's frame as he stood with Cassie at the employee's entrance to the estate. The darkness he'd survived through years of timeless imprisonment covered him for an instant, then lifted. "He's here. Hunter is somewhere on Eagle's Aerie," he said. "How do you know?" Cassie asked. "The evil in his heart, I can feel it." Cassie rubbed the spot between her eyes. This job was important to her, for her future. Somehow she held Reid's and Maigret's fates in her hands. How was she to juggle the very real responsibilities of here and now with the awesomely transcendent needs of this voyager in time and space? She wanted desperately to help him. She'd find a way. In the end, her job didn't matter as much as relieving the strain Reid lived with. She realized that with all her heart. She also knew that her free run of Eagle's Aerie, a consequence of her employment, was one key to solving this mystery. She touched his silk covered arm. "Before you go rushing off to slay dead wizards, we have some practical matters to attend to," she said, allowing a sense of playfulness to color her voice. It worked. His frown relaxed. "In order for you to have free run of the estate, you'll need some credentials," she continued. "We have guest passes for students and researchers. I'll get one for you. That way no one will question your authority to poke your nose into any of the buildings. You'll have the freedom to search with impunity while I work my shift." "You are giving in too easily, Mistress. I thought I should have to tie you up to keep you from helping in

my search. What is the catch?" "No catch." Cassie smiled sweetly. "Just your promise. Promise you will take no action without me." Reid shook his head. "You know such a promise cannot bind me, Cassandra." "I'm asking it to. Reid, try to understand, I have a part to play. No, that sounds too frivolous. How can I put this? My ability to hear and see your death, and to intervene, how was that possible? After the centuries, don't you think it's a tad coincidental that I should be the vehicle of your escape, and Hunter's?" "I hadn't thought of that." The frown returned to Reid's forehead as he pondered Cassie's words. "I've thought of little else. I'm involved. Serendipitous as the circumstances that brought me to this time and place may be, I am here. I will be with you at the end." Reid took Cassie by the arms and shook her gently. "Doesn't the thought of facing a spirit of evil, a man who happily consorts with the Devil himself, frighten you? You don't know what you ask of me." She framed his careworn face with her hands. "I'm terrified," she admitted. "But I cannot let you face him alone again." She couldn't tell him how his fate had begun to affect her heart, instead she simply kissed him and sealed his promise to her.

Chapter Ten

If I have to answer another inane question by another school kid, I'll scream. Cassie struggled to keep a pleasant smile on her face, but by this time it felt more like a grimace. Hours had passed since she and Reid had split up, he, to follow a hunch regarding Hunter's hiding place, Cassie to finish her late-started shift. They planned to meet on the river-front porch at closing to compare notes. The wait was driving her crazy. The ever-present heat and humidity weighed down her multiple petticoats and skirts as never before. Not a breath of breeze stirred the heavy air. The tourists, Lord bless them, were more sluggish than usual. Cassie couldn't move them along any faster than a snail's pace throughout the long afternoon. A rumble of thunder growled through the air as the sun started to fall into the west. It slid through the haze, reddening as it sank, by the time Cassie ushered the final visitor from her charge. She caught sight of Fred striding toward her. He looked as if he just had stepped from his house this morning, as fresh and crisp as if he hadn't just put in a ten hour shift in the wilting heat.

He didn't waste any time. "Bob never showed up for work today, Cassie. He's never done this before. He's always so dependable. He doesn't answer his telephone and nobody has seen him. I'm worried." "He stopped at my house the other night," Cassie offered. "He seemed in good health. As a matter of fact, he appeared to be dressed for a date or something. Maybe he has a lady friend and lost track of the time." "Bob? A girl friend?" Fred scratched his head, then shook it. "It doesn't add up. Not that Bob doesn't have his fine qualities. I mean, he's just so shy around women that he never seems to get up the gumption to talk to the ones he's interested in." "He doesn't have any trouble talking to me," Cassie said. She remembered the unexpected gleam in his eyes from their last meeting, the way he'd looked her over, as if he'd never really seen her before. Something had been different about him, but she'd had other things on her mind at the time. She'd put Bob's odd appearance and actions out of her mind. "All the same," Fred said, "let me know if you see him, or hear from him." "Sure. Has Maigret Penwarren stopped by today?" she asked before Fred could turn away. "She signed in before we opened, haven't seen her myself. I'll check the security logs if you want." "Thanks. I need to speak to her and it's as though she's vanished from the face of the earth." Cassie shivered at the image, then wondered if there was a connection between Bob's supposed disappearance and Maigret's. No, how could there be? "By the way, the security system at the house was turned off at the box. Are you sure you set it before you left the house yesterday?" Fred asked. "Of course I did. How could it be off? No one knows the code but me and the Johannson's." "And it's in my computer at the office," Fred added. "Who has access to the computer?" "Just me, and Bob of course." "And Bob's missing --" "Don't even think it. I'd trust Bob with one of my daughters. He's the most honest guy I know. Have you talked to the police this afternoon? Maybe they have a lead." His voice deepened, as it always did when he was concerned. "No, it's been busy today. Since I started late, I didn't take my usual break. I'll call before I go home." "Make sure you do. I don't like the idea of you going home alone to that big empty house." Fred looked around. "What about that 'friend' who's staying with you? Where's he?" Cassie fought to keep her voice even. No sense letting Fred know how much that 'friend' was coming to mean to her. "He's been touring the grounds today while I worked. He used to live around here and

wanted to see what the preservation society had done to the place since his last visit." It wasn?t exactly a lie, merely bending the truth. She found it easier to do than was comfortable. First her mother, now Fred, where would it end? "Okay, as long as you're not alone tonight. Call me when you get home, would you? The insurance man came by while I was there this morning. He said he got all the information he needs." "Thanks Fred. I'll call you later." Cassie walked through the darkening house, making sure no lingering tourists were about, then she locked the doors and set the electronic alarms. She was glad to be done before the hour of Reid's last sword battle arrived. Hastening around to the river front porch, she sat and waited. The stone verandah held the warmth of the sun's heat. The river moved placidly in the late daylight. Bird song and the distinct drum of thunder replaced the strident voices of teachers calling to students, parents to children. A stream of unrelated, irrelevant thoughts tumbled through Cassie's tired mind. Her world had turned upside-down in the space of hours, yet this somnolent atmosphere lulled her into releasing her worries. Her eyes were half shut when she saw an indistinct shape flitting between the trees at the place where the forest met the meadow. Cassie started up, wide awake again, hoping it was Reid. A deer calmly stepped out of the shadows. Cassie returned to her seat, disappointed. An edgy, restlessness gnawed at her, replacing her relaxed repose. The sun sank lower into the darkening sky. Where was he?

Reid enjoyed the sway of Cassandra's skirts as she left him and hurried to the manor house. When she was out of sight, he took a moment to look around and get his bearings. He couldn't fight off the sense of astonishment that the estate still existed, two hundred plus years after its birth. The mansion itself was in amazingly good shape. It was evident, from the efforts of men working on the roof, and the scaffolding running up the north face, that efforts at maintenance were extensive and ongoing. At last he pulled his gaze from the house and looked at closer details. Many buildings stood, still in good repair, though the arrangement of the outbuildings had shifted with time and use. Some buildings were gone all together ?. No doubt fallen down and never replaced, or forgotten. The trees had grown tremendously, attested to by their huge girth and height. Elizabeth's father had been proud of them as he planted them as saplings. A fragmentary memory nuzzled him -- the cool breeze of spring, wet soil, and his father's hand on his own young shoulder as he watched Mr. Farnsworth plant the first oak tree himself. Someone jostled him and he roused from his reverie. "Excuse me," said a young lady. Or was it a man? Reid could hardly tell through the haze of hair and layers of clothing. Whatever it was, it had a circle of gold pierced through one nostril and a stripe of purple coloring an otherwise blond mane.

Reid turned his attention to the other people surrounding him. The green lawn where he stood swarmed with humanity. It always had been a busy place, what with horses and riders passing through, and servants and slaves hurrying from place to place for the Farnsworths. The contrast between the bustle he remembered, and the people around him now, reinforced his place out of time. More than the appearance of people or buildings, the general atmosphere of the grounds held a fundamental change. No longer the center of a busy plantation, it was merely an empty shell of past glory. The substance of what it had stood for had vanished with the time he'd left long ago. Saddened, Reid turned his feet in the direction of the fields. He wondered about his own family's farm. It had lain adjacent to Eagle's Aerie. His marriage to Elizabeth was to have cemented the bond between families. Guilt tormented him as he realized he hadn't thought to ask Cassandra about Phillips history. He'd been single minded in seeking revenge since his miraculous return to corporeal time. He hesitated. Part of him wished to continue his search for Hunter, in whatever guise the tricky bastard had taken. Another part of him desired to find some remnant of his own family. First he would investigate the buildings and remembered byways of the estate, look in the most obvious places for Hunter before investigating the devious. Then, he consulted the pamphlet Cassandra had given him. It helped him decide his course. He'd take a look through the estate museum. A clue to history could be hiding there. Instead of clues, Reid found himself bombarded with memories -- and amusement. He admired the efforts modern archeologists and anthropologists expended to unearth history, but such excitement over a stone foundation seemed ludicrous to him. Especially since the foundation they were so sure was part of the old slave quarters, he remembered as the smithy. They had tried, though, through a mixture of study, digging, and sometimes exaggeration, to put together life as it had been during his natural life. To a large part, they had succeeded. He left the museum, no wiser than when he had entered, but with a sense of needed perspective with which to begin his search. He had an edge over Hunter, a map of past and current boundaries of the estate. It was a flimsy edge, but Reid knew he was in need of all the help available. The sun was halfway across the western sky before he turned his steps again toward the river front. The rebuilt pier was upstream from the original jetty and warehouses. Partially forewarned by his sojourn in the museum, Reid was only slightly astounded by the milling about of modern people on the dock. They shared space with small shacks, which sold clothing and memorabilia. Reid curled his lips in disdain at the shoddy garments the vendors asked so much money for. Even in these enlightened times, scalawags got away with the devil. He used his eyes, ears, and a sixth sense he was just realizing he possessed, to look for any evidence that Hunter had been this way. He felt nothing but a faint touch of unease in the air which anyone else would no doubt blame on the thunderheads massing in the sky. Hunter had passed this way, but in what guise? Reid paused to speak with a vendor. "Have you seen a man in leather buckled shoes, brocade waistcoat, brandishing a sword?"

"Everyday of my life," the other man said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Reid ignored the man's tone. "Which way did he go?" "Mister, I need more to go on than that. Look around. Half the men who work here wear that stuff." Would Hunter have remained as Reid remembered, or perhaps taken a disguise? Without knowing this search might be pointless, but it was all Reid had. He described Hunter as he had last seen him in life. "A tall fellow, broad shouldered, and he wore his hair slightly longer than mine. It is carrot colored." "No sir, I haven't seen the guy. Don't think I'd miss anyone who looked like that. You might try the people at the entrance. They see just about everyone who come in or out of the estate who has to buy a ticket. Though it's getting to be the busiest time of year, they might remember someone like that." "Thank you for your time, sir," Reid said. He turned his back on the river and started into the woods along a well-trodden path. The man had a point. Someone of Hunter's build and coloring would not go unnoticed. Hunter knew it too. He would steer clear of others, or change his appearance somehow. Until then, he'd hide somewhere. He was smart, smart enough to choose an out of the way spot. Out of the way in this century, that is. It was certain, knowing the curious nature of humans, especially historians, that the entire estate had been explored and mapped. No place would be secret. Reid was surprised that Hunter hadn't taken more action against him by now. Perhaps the exhaustion that had claimed Reid after his materialization with Cassie had also affected Hunter? It made sense that he would lay low to regain his strength and whatever wicked power he still possessed. It was essential Reid find Hunter before he was fully restored. Reid paused, barely aware of the dappled sunshine warming his shoulders, or of the people brushing past him. A vague memory of the Penwarren's cabin, nestled in a remote valley to the north of the main farm, tugged at a corner of his mind. The chance that Hunter would take refuge in that spot, surely someplace he'd be expected to go, seemed unlikely. Yet, it was Reid's best guess so far. Again, Reid looked at the estate map. It was not drawn to scale and obviously showed only the attractions and sites a normal tourist would be interested in. From his position, he'd find the site of the Penwarren cabin just this side of present estate boundaries. He glanced at the sun. He had three good hours before it began to set. He'd agreed to meet Cassandra at the main house at sunset. On horseback he'd have made the journey to the Penwarren site in fifteen minutes, by foot it would take several times longer, more, if the forest had been allowed to encroach on the once cleared land. An hour later, Reid realized that not only had no one tended to the Penwarren land, they'd allowed it to become overgrown with blackberry brambles and thistles. A bee buzzed around his head. Sweat dripped into his eyes as the woodland and meadows steamed about him. He should have been there by now. He checked his position by what landmarks remained from earlier days. The cabin had been situated between a low hill and a small tributary to the river. He saw the hill, covered by a riot of wild flowers. The stream was gone. Or he'd gotten off track completely. No, his forest sense, though no doubt atrophied by centuries of disuse, couldn't be that far off. He had to be close.

A huge oak beckoned with the promise of shade from the sun. As Reid made his way to it, he stumbled over an unseen obstacle. Looking down, he saw he'd tripped over a stone. On closer inspection, he saw it was rectangular in shape. Bits of mortar clung to its blackened surface. "I did find it," he mumbled. "This was part of the chimney." Renewed by his discovery, Reid left the sheltering tree and searched the ground. Strangling tangles of grass and weeds hid evidence of prior occupation, but Reid found enough to know this had once been the dwelling of the Penwarren's. He also saw that no one was here, or had been recently. A bird called from the forest nearby. Its song broke a dull silence that Reid had been unaware of until that moment. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He stood quiet in expectation. Of what, he did not know. This place was steeped in ancient magic, of that he was certain. The knowledge that the Penwarren's had been, and were still witches, came back to him. A witch could hide itself, make itself invisible, he recalled from earliest childhood tales. It took only a small stretch of the imagination to realize that a witch could also remove any evidence of passage. Hunter was a witch, Maigret had said so, though it was clear from the expression on her face that the fact that he was related to her was repellent in the extreme. Another thought gripped him. Would Maigret have searched for Hunter on her own? He didn't know her well enough to make that kind of character assessment. He did know she had been dismayed by Hunter's release into this century. According to Cassandra, Maigret felt a familial responsibility for him. Her disappearance began to make an awful kind of sense. Maybe Cassandra had some new information. He hoped so, or else something worse than Hunter's survival in this century was at stake. Hunter may have taken Maigret in a bid for her soul. Reid stopped his search, cursing the time he'd lost by this fruitless quest. He could have thought of all of this at the main estate, if only he'd stopped to think, to attend to the consequences of his actions rather than blindly following a vague idea steeped in vengeance. If his guess was right, and foreboding told him it was, both Maigret and Cassandra were in danger. He hated to stop the search for Maigret and Hunter, but he needed to be near Cassandra now. He was responsible for anything that might happen to her. Hunter was his responsibility and Cassandra was caught up in this time storm more intricately than she realized. The entire way back, he felt like he was being followed. His back twitched at the sensation of eyes peering at him through the dense tangle of trees and bushes. Yet, whenever he turned to look, nothing greeted him but the same eerie silence of the glade where he'd found the remains of the Penwarren cabin. That, and a sort of quiet desperation, dogged his ever quickening footsteps. Cassandra was in danger. He hoped he wouldn't be too late. The tops of the growing storm clouds were tinged with sunset gold by the time Reid found his way back to the main estate.

"I've been thinking ..." Cassie said. "Cassandra, maybe ..." Reid spoke at the same time.

Cassie grinned as she drove through the evening traffic towards home. "You go first," she offered. "It's about Mistress Penwarren. I believe her disappearance is not a coincidence." "She's been on my mind today, too. I don't know her all that well, but she seemed like the type of person you could count on." "My thoughts exactly. While I was at the old Penwarren cabin site this afternoon, it occurred to me that if Hunter realizes her relationship to him, he might try to use her." A small trickle of dread threaded down Cassie's back. How could Hunter know that Maigret was a descendant of his? She voiced her question. "Back in my time, he had great intuitive powers," Reid said. "If he was part of a family of witches, perhaps being able to discern Mistress Penwarren's relationship and corresponding powers is not as farfetched an idea as we might imagine." "If that's true, Maigret's in more danger than I am." Cassie turned the car into the narrow, tree-lined driveway. To her relief, the yard and house lights flicked on as she drove up to the garage. Up until this moment, she hadn't realized how much she feared arriving here alone, and in the dark. Reid's quietly contemplative form assured her that she wasn't alone. A fleeting memory of the shambles they'd left the house in made her hesitate with her hand on the doorknob. She'd hated leaving the spacious rooms so devastated, but at the time legalities and circumstance had prevailed. Tomorrow she'd call a cleaning service. Tonight, she didn't look forward to the sight of one room after another chaotically messy. Maigret's cheerful face intruded on other thoughts as Cassie firmly turned the doorknob. Whatever faced her inside could be dealt with more easily than the mystery of Maigret's disappearance. "Mom," Cassie's surprised voice came out as a shriek. "What on earth are you doing here?" "How nice to see you again, Mrs. Pierce," Reid said. His smooth voice carried all the warmth and welcome Cassie's lacked. "Remember, you're to call me 'Constance.'" The lady in question dimpled at Reid. Cassie felt her bewilderment turn to exasperation. Her mother was flirting with her -- her what? Her ghost come to life? She looked around the kitchen. It was swept clean of broken glass and crockery. Several bulging black trash sacks sat in a corner, no doubt holding the shards and dust. A glance into the family room showed a similar state of neatness. "Mother --" "Now don't be angry, Cassandra. Fred called me about your burglary," she said with a shudder. "I offered to come over and pick up a little before you came home. I'm glad I did." She turned her diminutive frame towards Reid. "I can't thank you enough for being here, Reid. Just the thought of Cassandra discovering such savage destruction on her own -- I don't like to think of the danger she might

have been in." "Oh, brother," Cassie muttered at her mother's theatrics. "I was glad to be of assistance, Madam," Reid said, with a quick grin at Cassie's sotto voce remark. "All of this confirms my suspicions, Cassandra. That accursed force has found you, hasn't it?" "No, Mom. A run of the mill burglar found me, no god forsaken force of darkness." She tried to change to subject. "I'm going to call out for pizza." "Just a minute." Reid's face was shadowed as he moved closer to Constance. "You knew about the dark force?" he asked her. Something in his intent gaze caused Cassie's Mom to retreat until the counter stopped her movement. With a barely audible swallow, and grabbing the many crystals which hung about her neck as if for support, Constance nodded. "Maigret saw it first. She saw the shadow on the cards as she did a reading for me. Said it concerned a child I loved, my daughter." "Did she indicate the direction or force of this shadow?" Reid pursued. Constance shook her head. "No, only that Cassie would release this danger to herself, while at the same time finding and cherishing the light it brought with it." "What else?" He loomed over Constance, who shrank back from his towering body. "That's enough," Cassie snapped. She wasn't going to let this eighteenth century bully frighten her mother. As she moved to pull him away, Reid took several steps away from the small woman. "I beg your pardon, Madam. I did not mean to frighten you. I only wanted to know what you know, to protect Cassandra. She has become -- important to me." "Yes, of course. I wasn't frightened of you. How could I be? You're such a gentleman. All the same, well, never mind. Cassandra, I'm afraid I can't stay after all."

Chapter Eleven

Cassie sighed as the door shut behind Constance. Even though she did not want to involve her mother in this entanglement with Reid, neither did she like Mom being chased away. Constance Pierce versus Reid Phillips. The contrast made Cassie's lips twitch.

She was on the look out for the pizza delivery, though when the doorbell rang, Reid managed to answer it before her. She raised her eyes at his grim expression. "One large pizza, everything on it," the young man stated as Reid opened the door. "Sir," he added. Cassie pushed her way past Reid and handed the man a number of bills. "Keep the change." "Yes ma'am, thank you," he stammered, peering up at Reid's glowering face. Reid slammed the door. "Do you always open the door to strangers?" "No, only cute young guys bearing pizza," Cassie quipped. Reid grabbed her, clearly ready to remark on her lack of good sense considering the current situation, when his nostrils twitched. "What is that?" He nodded to the square box she held with both hands. "Supper. Come to the kitchen and I'll show you what open immigration has done for the American palette." She led the way to the kitchen, glad for his change of mood. Her stomach growled. "I've got a six pack of beer in the garage. I hope our marauder ignored it." She came back triumphantly to find Reid hovering over the opened box. The smile on his face told her he was enjoying the aromas wafting up with the steam. "This is an intriguing concoction. Pizza. It looks like a kind of pie." Reid took one of the glass bottles from her and twisted his open after watching her do hers. "It's an Americanized version of an Italian dish. A bread dough crust topped with tomato based sauce, covered with, well, whatever you choose, and cheese on top." Unable to find an unbroken glass, Cassie shrugged and brought the bottle to her mouth. "Ah, it would be better chilled, but still there's nothing better than pizza and beer." "Tomato? We also called them love-apples. That fruit is deadly, Cassandra. At least, we thought it to be." "Have a seat, Reid, and trust me. You're going to love it." Reid's total delight in the make-shift meal, combined with the tongue-loosening qualities of beer, gave Cassie the courage to ask him about several things that interested her. "Tell me about Elizabeth," she said as he reached for the last piece of pizza. "Why?" His manner wasn't sad or angry, just curious. Encouraged, Cassie chose her words carefully. Uncertain of how to proceed, she hoped to keep the tenor of the conversation friendly. "I know she and I share some physical attributes. Are we similar in other ways?" "No." "I mean," Cassie floundered, "could she ride a horse or was she the bookish type? Things like that."

Reid took another sip of the lukewarm beer and set the bottle on the table with a thump. The hard gaze he turned on Cassie chilled her. The pizza sat like lead in her stomach. "She was a lady in every way. As a child, she romped with the other children, but even then they treated her as if she were fragile. Her beauty and accomplishments grew apace. Our childhood friendship blossomed into first love. We were betrothed, though her mother swore fifteen was too young for her precious 'Missy' to wed. They talked me into waiting until she turned eighteen. I stood to inherit my father's neighboring farm. Its addition would have added a third again of acreage to Eagle's Aerie. Both families stood to benefit and prosper. Yes, 'twas a fine idea. I rue the day I agreed to it." He pushed aside the now empty bottle and leaned toward Cassie. Inexpressible sadness fought with anger. She could see it in the set of his mouth, the stretched tendons in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched on the table between them. Cassie put her hand over his. Reid stared at the empty space above Cassie's head. "In the end, she choose to believe Hunter's lies. I was bound by sacred oath to General Washington not to reveal myself. I had to let Hunter name me traitor and hope I would be vindicated by those above me." "She didn't trust you? Is that what burns so brightly, Reid?" "After a lifetime together she could not bring herself to love a Tory sympathizer. Her father, uncles, and my parents all supported the rebellion. I was an embarrassment." He pressed a weary hand across his face and shut his eyes. "That's not the whole story. Surely with time, she would have believed you," Cassie pressed him, gently but firmly. This matter had festered within his soul for over two hundred years. It was time to cleanse it. "Unbeknownst to me, time was soon to be swept from my grasp." Reid's hoarse attempt at humor tugged at Cassie's heart. Her throat constricted with her effort to keep from crying. "That's true, but you have been given a rare gift, Reid. A second chance. Will you spend it on revenge?" "If only it were that simple." He shook his head. "Taking my life is perhaps the only thing I could forgive Hunter for. His anger was directed at me. I am responsible for my own fate. The damage he did to Elizabeth and my family's reputation gall more than that." "Besides grieving over your untimely death, which I'm sure Elizabeth did as deeply as your parents --" Reid's shout stopped the gentle words. "He seduced her. He took my sweet, innocent Elizabeth to bed like a whore on King Street. Damn him to Hell-fire. He planted his bloody bastard in her womb, which should have carried my son. Once he was sure she was with child, he abandoned her." Shock held Cassie motionless. If she'd wanted to get Reid to admit the roots of his anger and vengeance, she'd surely succeeded. He stood to pace, cougar-like. "He laughed at me, said she was hot for him, couldn't get enough. I was in the prison in Alexandria by then, turned in by Hunter himself. I remember how red-hot rage ran through me. I could have wrung his thick neck with less energy than it took to twist the cap from this bottle." Reid threw the bottle against the wall where it shattered. "The coward stayed safely on the other side of the bars. He laughed until it seemed the demons of Hell

itself laughed with him. That's when I realized he was not merely a man. He was in league with the Devil. His eyes glowed red with fire and ice. I swore vengeance on him to his face. I called upon God to strike him down. God ignored me. Hunter turned his back and walked away. His laughter echoed through my mind until I thought I'd go mad." Cassie relaxed slightly as Reid wound down. She already knew about Elizabeth bearing Hunter's bastard. The story didn't shock her as much as Reid's anger and pain. She grasped her hands tightly together to keep from reaching for him, comforting him. If this catharsis helped, she'd let him rage on. Reid returned to his chair and sat with a thud. Exhaustion and soul-deep emptiness spoke from his face and eyes. To her knowledge, he'd slept only once since his remarkable metamorphosis into this time. Even though she certainly sympathized with his story, more than that, she felt as if she'd shared it with him, she needed more information if she was to help. "I didn't know you'd been jailed," she commented. "Yet, your ghost and Hunter's haunted Eagle's Aerie. How did you come to be released?" "More witchcraft, no doubt," Reid muttered. "What?" His eyes twinkled at her. "Or perhaps just luck. Mistress Penwarren, the mid-wife and wise woman who kept a cabin on our estate, came to visit me. I'd never seen her look so old, as if all the cares of humanity pressed down on her. Knowing that Hunter was her son surely took its toll on that sweet woman's soul." "So, did she bring you a cake with a metal file baked into it?" "No, but what an intriguing method of escape that would have been. She brought switchel and raisin rolls for the boys on guard. I never asked her what she put in the food and drink to send them into a slumber so quickly. She took the keys and released me herself." "Sounds like something a Penwarren would do." "Aye, the good-hearted ones anyway. She promised to look after Elizabeth and begged me to run. A ship, my passage already paid, was hoisting anchor for the West Indies within the hour." Cassie allowed a small grin. "A less honorable man would have jumped at the chance for a clean escape." "A smarter man, anyway," Reid said, his answering smile not quite reaching his eyes. "In jail, I'd learned from a captured Brit that Hunter was a true spy for the Redcoats. He had turned me in to take the interest from himself. Also, he hoped that by taking Elizabeth he could force her father to allow his marriage to her. He'd finally steal some degree of legitimacy for his heirs at any rate. You know the rest of the story. I cornered Hunter at Eagle's Aerie as he tried to spread more lies about me." "He had no heirs that I could find in genealogical records. There would be Elizabeth's child, if it lived. I didn't really know where to look, or what to look for. Maigret was supposed to check Penwarren records -- " Cassie sighed. "As for you, for the longest time I was sure you were simply a figment of my imagination. I dreamt about you, you know." "I'm real enough, and tired, though filled with restless energy. That's enough pouring out of my soul for

tonight, Cassandra. Come, walk with me. The garden will be beautiful in the moonlight. Perhaps the night air will bring on rest." Cassie smiled hugely at his invitation. "The last time you invited me to walk in a garden, you kissed me." He raised an eyebrow and held out his hand for her. "That dream, I suppose?" She nodded and preceded him out the door. "Did the dream have a pleasant ending?" Cassie hesitated in the shadows at the edge of the brick walkway leading into the rose garden. Another step and she'd reach the switch that would turn on the small lights, but now the landscape reminded her of her eerily terrifying dream. "No, it was quite unpleasant." She took a step. Relief flowed through her as the lights responded to her hand's command. "Was my kiss so bad?" He walked beside her, her arm pulled through the curve of his. "The kiss? Ahh -- We didn't have time to finish it properly before the dream ended. I believe I enjoyed what little I had, though," Cassie said. Her earlier fear of the garden fled as they walked arm in arm along the path. She'd never felt more safe, protected, than she did at this moment, with this man. Where their arms intertwined, she was aware of more than his physical presence. His scent washed over her, faint yet there. The subtle, warm pressure of his arm on hers, the soft, barely felt brushing of their thighs as they walked, even the sultry evening breeze served to heighten her senses and awareness of the man beside her. They walked in silence until they came to the boxwood maze. Cassie remembered the last time she'd entered its twisting, green passages. That time she'd fled from a pursuing darkness. Reid's ghost had led her to safety. Surely he'd remember that. She turned to ask him, but never got the chance. His mouth covered hers in a kiss so gentle yet sensual that all her nerve endings focused on where her mouth joined his. She kissed him back. Reid deepened his tentative kiss, sending heat flowing from Cassie's mouth to every limb and body part she possessed. The man was melting her. She adored the sensation. She didn't truly come to her senses until a soft moan, from deep in Reid's throat, broke her concentration. What was she doing? She had no right to enjoy this man's caress. She put her hands against his hard chest, fully intending to push away, break contact, before she lost control completely. Reid held her hands against his chest and released her lips. Before she could step away, he rested his forehead on hers for a brief moment. The gesture, so gentle yet intimate, shook Cassie almost as much as his embrace. "I'll not apologize for kissing you this time, Cassandra. I have no doubts about who I hold." She tried to pull away from his hypnotic voice and magnetic aura, but discovered that she didn't want to. A small, infinitely pragmatic voice in her mind warned of the danger to her heart and soul if she continued on her present course. She didn't care. She'd been falling in love with Reid before she even realized he had been, then was, real. His honor had been soiled and his family nearly destroyed, yet he had survived, soul intact. What will happen when he realizes his wish for revenge, that nagging doubt whispered? Will he turn to

dust before your eyes? Disappear forever? What will your broken heart do then? It will remember, Cassie vowed. She took an irrevocable step. She took Reid by the hand and led him to the small glade in the center of the maze. Her small hand trembled in his. Desire warred with Reid's sense of honor. The boxwood rose around them as Cassandra coaxed him along the brick path. The dense shrubbery made a private boudoir of the center of the maze. Moonlight spotlighted the green grass that lay as thick and soft as the finest carpeting when Cassandra finally stopped and turned to him. "Who do you see when you look at me?" she asked, her voice a curious mixture of shyness and determination. Reid lifted a strand of her dark hair and rubbed it between his fingers. It shone, glossy and gilded, in the moon's soft glow. "A woman of grace and courage," he answered. "I am afraid for you," Cassandra said. She held her arms rigidly to her side. "When you complete your mission, take revenge on Hunter, what will happen to you?" Her words cut to the heart of the matter. It was more than possible that when he banished Hunter from the present world, Reid himself would cease to exist. Until now that possibility had been a small concern huddled quietly in a forgotten corner of his mind. Now, with Cassandra's words and the deep emotions he was beginning to have for her, his future, or lack of such, loomed over him. "I'll not mislead you, Mistress. Since Hunter's soul and mine have been entangled for so long, it seems sensible to me that our fates will remain tied to each other. I can only guess at the outcome of my meeting with him." "It seems strange," Cassandra murmured. "What else could be stranger than this, Cassandra?" She looked at him then. The expression on her face took his breath away. The beauty and clarity of her feelings shone through, though she didn't speak of what he could clearly see. Instead she said, "After so many years of being trapped between life and death, no one had a clue about it until I showed up. Why do you suppose that happened?" "I don't know." He guessed, of course, that his soul was bound to Cassandra's, but he dare not wish it. Instead, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. "Make love to me, Reid. Here, under the stars and moon, so that I'll have a lovely memory when you're gone." Her voice thrummed on the still air, full of sadness and desire. Magic surrounded them. Reid couldn't fight off his need for her, the need to feel her surround him once, just once, with her warmth and joy of living. He vowed to himself to make this joining as joyous as possible. It might be the only memory he'd have of her to take with him into eternity. "You do not fear the consequences, Mistress?" he asked, giving her one last chance to turn away before passion took them both.

In answer, she took his face between her hands and kissed him. Gently, seductively, she shattered his world and sealed his heart with the willing kiss. After that, softness gave way to urgency. Reid sat on the soft grass and pulled her down. She straddled his lap. He kissed her full lips without restraint. She groaned and leaned into him while her hands ran through his hair. Softly, sensuously, her touch brought a tingling delight to the top of his head. Each pulsation of her lips and hips sent the sensation throughout his body until his loins ached for her. Impatient now, Reid lifted her light sweater away from her torso and over her head, tossing it a short distance away. She wore no undergarment. Her breasts were small, but perfect for worshipping with his hands and mouth. He took one pink nipple between his lips and laved it with his tongue until it peaked, hard, against his teeth. Cassandra pushed with gentle pressure until he had the second pink tip in the same taut condition. She bent back. The hollow of her throat beckoned him and he kissed his way to it. Cassandra's moan of delight sent a red hot tracer of desire through him. When she tipped her head and touched her warm tongue to the spot directly behind his ear, Reid thought he'd shoot straight to the shining moon at the exquisite tremor it brought to him. Her gauzy skirt billowed around them, a dusky flower in the cool glow. He reached under the hem and felt her tremor as his hand caressed her calf. Her skin radiated warmth. His hands glided over it as if it were fine silk. Without much internal debate, Reid gently rolled Cassandra back until she lay partly on the ground and partly on him. He must taste her, smell her, look and feel. All of his senses demanded appeasement. He let his lips graze against her leg and wondered at her response to his moist caress of the back of her knees. His hands preceded his mouth as if scouting the way. She didn't resist. Now her hands kneaded his shoulders rhythmically. Her scent was daylight musk to his nose, fresh mown hay and lilacs combined with warm, newly turned earth. He nibbled the inside of her thigh as his hand reached the springy curls at the junction of her legs. Cassandra was a woman of infinite riches. She offered herself to him with trust and abandon. Again, he hesitated to take advantage of her willingness. "Please Reid, touch me," she whispered, effectively slamming the door on any doubts. Reid's gentle fingers stroked the soft nub and folds of her womanhood. Moist warmth welcomed him as Cassandra drew his hand away to be replaced by his lips. She shuddered momentarily and he withdrew, alarmed. Perhaps he'd misread her desires after all. The way she fumbled with the fastenings on his trousers assured him of what she wanted. He knelt while she slowly pulled the zipper down. His engorged penis stood erect at its release. Reid enjoyed a shocked sense of delight as Cassandra cradled him between her breasts as she pulled his pants until they pooled at his knees. Without further hesitation, he rolled her onto her back and plunged into her. At her soft groan and warm breath in his ear, his groin tightened further. She was warm, and soft, and alive. He filled her. Reid's senses became engorged with the richness of the act. He brought them both to driving fulfillment. Her cry contained both joy and sorrow; his own echoed hers.

Destiny had brought them together through a strange twist of fate. It could just as easily tear them apart. For now, this moment would have to be enough. When Reid recovered, he rained kisses on Cassandra's upturned face. He traced a line of her tears to the corner of her mouth and back again to her still closed eyelids. "Did I hurt you?" he asked. Her eyes opened. Though wet, they shone with something more than desire in the starlight. "No. I don't believe anything you do could hurt me." Reid held her tightly and rolled onto his back, keeping her in his arms so she now lay on top of him. "I should apologize for taking advantage of you, but I won't." Cassandra grinned and played with a lock of his hair. "Perhaps I'm the one who should apologize. I doubt women of respectable households were so bold during your time." "More often they played a game of frustrating flirtation. Your directness does not distress me, Cassandra. Though I'm afraid that you will be ultimately hurt when my quest is over." "Hush, don't speak of that now. Now is for us." She put a finger over his mouth. She followed it with a kiss of such incredible sweetness, Reid trembled with an emotion he was not ready to consider, much less accept. They were still joined intimately. He felt himself grow hard again as she moved tantalizingly on him, intent on savoring each sensation she created in him, and enjoying the rush of fulfilled pleasure in her body. He slowed the pace of their love-making this second time. Their ride to the peak of pleasure was a languorous waltz. Reid didn't think anything could compare to the first wild ride, but this time, as he held her tenderly and watched her face come alive with pleasure, he sent aloft a tiny prayer for an answer. He desperately prayed for divine help or inspiration, to show him a way to fill his need for vengeance, yet leave this woman with more than empty arms when it was over. They drowsed in each others arms. Dawn sent its first streamers of vermilion and gold into the Eastern sky when Reid discerned a chill that had nothing to do with the weather or time of day. "Cassandra, get dressed." "I'm very happy right where I am." She snuggled into his shoulder. "Someone is watching us." This got Cassie's attention. She bolted upright and picked up her scattered clothing, pulling it on in jerky movements. That someone might have witnessed their love-making brought a quiver to her stomach. Who would trespass on the grounds at this hour? A lost tourist? Unlikely. A well-lit street, with wide sidewalks, met the end of the driveway. Perhaps she and Reid were only extra sensitive due to the nature of their fragile bond ? if bond it was. She watched him as he finished dressing. In this light, after the night they had just spent, the sight of him brought her heart into her throat. She'd fallen in love with a ghost, now real, who was determined to

perform an act which repelled her ? murder for revenge. Even though she understood his reasoning behind it, it was no easier to live with. She crossed the grass on silent feet until she came up behind him. His neck and shoulders were taut as he scanned the perimeter of the protected glade. She longed to massage the tenseness out of him. At the same time she looked for some miracle that would also release him from the pain and anger in his soul. She did not touch him. At this moment, he was lost to her. Their moment of magic was gone. The light of dawn had effectively put an end to whatever they had revealed to each other in the safety of night. A breeze brought the scent of freesia and lilacs. The sweet fragrance diverted Cassie's attention for only a second. Reid's sharply indrawn breath brought her eyes back to the boxwood surrounding them. A shadow flowed towards them, pushing before it a breath of dank, dark illness. Cassie gasped. In her dream, just such a shadow had risen over Reid before she woke up. Not this time. She couldn't let it get him. Unreasoning fear had her trembling as she pushed her way around Reid, putting herself between him and the darkness. "Stay behind me, Cassandra. Damn, I wish I had my sword." "You can't fight shadows with metal, Reid. This one wants you. It will have to get through me first." "I fight my own battles, Mistress." He grabbed her shoulders and held her back. "Damn it, Reid. You need me," Cassie said. The single shadow became one with the advancing shadows of dawn. Its chill covered them as a figure materialized from the surrounding bushes.

Chapter Twelve

"Maigret?" Cassie barely recognized the lovely witch. Mud and scratches covered her exposed skin. Her clothes were torn. Her elegant face wore an expression of vague hopelessness. Cassie moved to help and found her arms trapped in Reid's grasp. "Let me go. She's hurt." "It's what is waiting behind her that worries me. Don't you see?" Cassie struggled and broke free. The empty, glazed look in Maigret's eyes pulled at Cassie stronger than fear could keep her away. She reached the other woman just at Maigret's legs crumpled. "Reid, help me," Cassie called and found Reid at her side before her words had time to echo across the clearing. Her clear, loud voice somehow broke the last veil of magic that had hovered over her and Reid

and this small piece of paradise. "Her skin is icy," Cassie said. "She must be in shock." Reid gathered the unconscious woman into his arms and led the way out of the maze. As they reached the patio door into the house, Maigret began to whimper like a lost child. She muttered faintly. Cassie couldn't quite make out the words, but it sounded like, "It's all a lie. Help me." The words made no sense. Cassie was relieved that part of their puzzle was solved. Maigret was found. Except, in the manner of a puzzle after only a few pieces fit, the larger picture remained obscured. She focused on making Maigret comfortable on a couch while considering the best course of action. The Emergency Room, of course. She reached for the phone. Maigret's cry stopped her. "No." Maigret sat up. Her eyes, green as grass and glistening, stared wild-eyed, first at Cassie, then Reid. "No," Maigret repeated, raggedly but calmer. "Don't call an ambulance. I'm just worn out." "But you might have a concussion, or worse. Where have you been? Your family, not to mention my mom and me, have been worried about you." Cassie replaced the phone in its cradle and brought a glass of water and a wet washcloth to Maigret. Reid hadn't said a word. He leaned, deceptively casual, against the fireplace mantle. His eyes glinted like fine steel. Cassie wondered what he knew or guessed about Maigret's disappearance and more incredibly timed reappearance. "I found him. Hunter," Maigret said. Her hand shook as she set down the glass. "Or perhaps he found me." Cassie sat next to Maigret on the couch. "Did he hurt you?" she demanded fiercely. Although she hadn't been acquainted with Maigret Penwarren for more than a few days, they shared a bond that transcended mere hours on a clock. "He kept me in a cave, tied up. I'm still not sure how I escaped." Maigret shivered. Cassie grabbed the cotton throw blanket laying across the back of the couch and draped it over Maigret's shoulders. "What cave, Mistress?" Reid asked. "I'm not sure. It was dark when he took me there and dark when I managed to leave." Maigret clutched at the edge of the blanket, her head down, shoulders hunched. "If you didn't know where you were, how did you manage to find your way to us?" Reid persisted. His tone was quiet and impersonal, yet Cassie detected an undercurrent of determination beneath the surface. "I don't know." Maigret's voice was soft, barely audible. "I guess I just wandered until I heard voices." She looked up at Cassie. "I'm glad I found you." "Me too." Cassie tucked the covering more securely around Maigret and motioned to Reid with her head. "I'm going to fix you a cup of hot tea, if I can find an unbroken cup, that is. Then I must call your family and my mom to let them know that you're all right."

Maigret nodded and sank back into the soft cushions of the couch. Reid followed Cassie to the kitchen. Once Cassie closed the louvered door between the kitchen and the family room, she turned on Reid. "What do you mean by giving her the third degree like that? Can't you see she's more than exhausted?" "She does appear tired and dirty. It matches her story. I'll grant her that," Reid replied. Cassie rummaged through the cupboards, searching for a cup and tea bag. She didn't speak again until she had found what she was looking for, then she turned around. "You don't believe her." "It all seems more than a little -- convenient. "Why you arrogant, suspicious --," Cassie sputtered. She took a deep breath and considered her next remarks. It seemed incredible that Reid suspected Maigret of actually being in league with Hunter. If that was what he thought. She'd just spent the better part of the night making love with him, and realized that she barely knew him. Sure, she had an underlying understanding of his basic nature -- honesty and nobility were certainly traits he'd carried with him through the centuries. But why turn on Maigret now? She banged through the cupboards again, this time in search of a saucepan or kettle. The noise she made hid her inner turmoil. Hadn't Maigret hinted at Penwarren family records, yet had never seemed to come up with them? And what did she really know about Maigret, except what Maigret had told her, and what her own mother believed? Ugly suspicions formed, matching the hints Reid voiced. As the pan heated water on the stove, Cassie peaked through the opened louvers of the door. Maigret was reclining on the couch and appeared to be sleeping, though it was hard to say from this angle. Reid's strong arms snaked around Cassie's waist. He reached up and closed the panels, at the same time, pulling her closer. A sharp memory of intimacy assailed Cassie as she leaned into him. For a moment all she could think of were his hands, and lips, and body exploring hers with the most exquisite results. The water boiled over. As it hissed onto the stovetop, Cassie pulled away from Reid. "What if," she began, as she poured the steaming water over the tea bag in the cup, "Maigret is more than confused. Do you thing she'd betray you to Hunter?" "She did admit that he was an ancestor. Blood is often thicker than water." Reid held up his hand when Cassie would have argued. "But no, I do not think Mistress Penwarren would deliberately tell Hunter of my whereabouts. I believe the rogue already knows where I am." "Then what purpose could kidnapping her and detaining her serve?" "The bastard is not just devious, Cassandra. I believe his mind became twisted during our centuries of strife. I became obsessed with revenge. His course was already set on one of deceit. Perhaps in his rage and pain, his considerable mind snapped." "Then it's more imperative than ever that we find him, and quickly. Who knows what kind of damage he

did to Maigret, and what he forced her to divulge to him?" "Too true," Reid said. "I wonder what he could have discovered from her that would make a difference to his purpose. And, has his purpose changed?" "I'm not sure I fully understand his original purpose. Once he disposed of you and ruined yours and Elizabeth's families reputations, what else was there?" Cassie stirred the tea. Her mind raced with, and discarded, one idea after another. "I need more information," she decided at last. "But first, I must make those phone calls. Will you take this to her please?" She handed Reid the teacup and turned to the telephone. Maigret refused to be fussed over. Once she had rested a bit and had her tea, she regained her usual authoritative air. More, she refused to leave Cassie and Reid to return to her home and family. Cassie overheard one half of Maigret's passionate response to her brother's phone call. Basically she told him to bug-off and leave her alone. Kind of a rash thing to say to someone who enjoyed appearing out of nowhere. However, no one materialized. Cassie breathed a bit easier. Maigret had a harder time with Cassie's mother. In this case, once Cassie's mom realized that Maigret would stay with Reid and Cassie, she seemed mollified. As Constance said to Cassie, once Maigret handed her the telephone, "At least you'll all be together." Though Cassie had spent another night with little sleep, relaxation was the furthest thing from her mind. Her eyes stung. A shower would most certainly help, but her thoughts raced with plans and images. No less, a sense that time was slipping away, and an unforeseen destiny closing in, insinuated itself into her conscious thoughts. Since Reid's release, he and Maigret had taken all the action. She'd mostly kept her nose in a figurative research book. It was her turn to act. It had to be soon. Reid's time here was coming to an end, or a new beginning. The hell of it was, she didn't know which. More than anything, she wanted to find a way to keep Reid here. After their past few days together, and their wild love-making last night, she couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him, touching him, hearing his voice again in anything but a memory. She wanted desperately to grab time itself and hold these few precious hours to her. Death and doom awaited them. Maybe they wanted only Reid, but his death would certainly spell the doom of Cassie's future happiness. She'd fallen in love with this man from the past. How would she go on without him? Alone in the kitchen, Cassie fought with tears of despair. Reid was bent on finding and somehow eradicating Hunter from this century. Though she felt deeply his need for revenge, she couldn't help but wonder if his own logic and emotions had become as skewed as Hunter's after the centuries of nearly relentless fighting. Perhaps Reid was fighting a war with an enemy who could not be defeated. As tears finally found the route from her eyes, she wished, for a scant second, that Reid had been just a dream. An achingly lovely manifestation of her own need for love ? a touch of what love truly meant, which she'd never realized she'd missed until now. But it wasn't a dream. The bitter-sweet reality of the way her soul and Reid's meshed served to bring her closer to heaven than she ever would be again. His leaving, inevitable as it was, would shatter her soul

like a broken crystal. Eyes and nose streaming, she groped for something to wipe her face. It wouldn't do for Reid or Maigret to find her in this state. Her hand found a napkin. She blew her nose hard, thinking a good cry had done her a world of good. At least, it usually did. This time, it just left her bereft. She sensed Reid's presence before she felt his arms surround her. Hoping she'd managed to clean off the worst signs of her distress, she pasted a smile onto her face and turned to him.

A wrenching combination of tenderness, anger, hopelessness, and futility swept over Reid when he found Cassandra weeping in the kitchen. She smiled sweetly at him, but the reddened eyes and moist cheeks told the tale all too well. He knew she would hate for him to acknowledge her pain. Even as he spoke to her casually, a sympathetic ache stabbed his heart. "Maigret is freshening up. Then I think she'll sleep some more. It's time to plan our next move." "Yes, I've been thinking the same. Can she tell us more, do you think?" Cassandra spoke calmly. She stayed in the circle of his arms. "I believe she is willing, but a burden has been placed on her spirit." "Whatever does that mean? More mystical mumbo-jumbo, as far as I can tell." Reid smiled. "Just what does it take to convince such a skeptic of the existence of more than natural or explainable circumstances?" Cassandra pulled away from him and paced the floor. She alternately hugged herself or used her hands to emphasize her words. As if, Reid considered, she was caught in the midst of damning evidence, which her eyes still would not allow her to believe. "I know what you mean," Cassandra said. "After my time and your interlude between time collided, I've certainly witnessed my share of more-than-natural events. I don't know how to integrate them with my life." She paused and shrugged her shoulders. "Ah yes. The life of a scholar. Immersed in books and facts and dusty pages. Is that really what you want, Cassandra?" "I thought so. Until you broke into my dreams and then into my waking life, I thought I was very happy with that existence." Cassandra sighed. "You have changed me." It was almost an accusation. Reid shook his head and put his hands on her shoulders, effectively stopping her pacing. "Perhaps I was simply the catalyst you needed to break away from the life you've lived." "But to what purpose?" Cassandra cried. She pounded him on the chest with the force of her frustration. "You've come into my life, closer than any man has ever been, and why? You talk of revenge, retribution for an act that occurred over two hundred years ago. How can I reconcile the fact that you're going to go out and get yourself killed with the fact that I --" She stopped and turned her head away. This would be harder than he had ever imagined. Her words were tearing him apart, tiny slivers at a time. If she said the words, if he echoed them, would that change anything? Aye or no, Reid gently turned

her face until he could look deeply into her eyes once more. "You what?" he asked, gently yet firmly holding her. Tears formed in her dark eyes, magnifying her pupils until they resembled mirrors. "I -- I've fallen in love with you," she finally whispered. If it were only his feelings at stake, Reid could complete what he knew he must do. With regrets, but they would be his regrets. Even so, he steeled himself to find Hunter and get it over with. God or the devil would be with him. Either way, he was sure to loose this woman who had taken the chance of a lifetime to save his soul. He admitted in his heart, he'd lost his soul to her already. The witch slept. When she awoke would be soon enough to end this. Now, he'd help Cassandra find some peace and store away memories for when he was out of her life. He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom she used. The mid-morning sun shone brightly through the sheer curtains. By the time Reid lay Cassandra on the bed, she was asleep. The emotional and physical turmoil had finally taken their toll. He watched her, savoring the image of her. She lay curled on one side, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other lying palm-up on the bed cover. Her hair, dark and curly from the humidity, framed her face in loose tendrils. He knew the silken touch of her hair. He'd felt its passage during the night as she kissed him and stroked him and brought him to a fevered pitch of excitement. Her slightly flushed face appeared as innocent as a newborn babe's. Her lips, rosy and moist, moved slightly as she frowned in her sleep, perhaps in response to a dream. I've fallen in love with her. I have nothing to offer. Nothing but heartache and, maybe, memories. He had to act before he lost his resolve. This exquisite woman had the power to keep him by her side. He couldn't allow it. It would be better this way, had to be. Mind made up, heart cracking wider open, Reid found the plastic square that would admit him to Eagle's Aerie. He left without a backward glance.

Sharp claws shook her shoulder. "Wake up, bitch," an angry, hoarse voice shouted. Cassie rolled over and burrowed into her pillow. She didn't want to wake. Her dream was lovely, full of sunlight and flowers and Reid, dancing with her along the garden path. Again, sharp, formless hands shook her. This time, instead of Reid in the garden, the dark shadow of a nightmare took his place. It swirled and billowed. First it took the shape of a man, then a woman, each almost familiar to Cassie. Each spinning her faster and faster along the path that now pulsated with dread. A movement caught her dream-eye -- Reid, walking away from her. She pulled away from the shadow and stumbled after Reid. The dark shape threw back what passed for a head and laughed. The deep, echoing sound finally woke her up, sweating. "Well, it's about time. I've been trying to wake you for several minutes." Maigret removed her hand from Cassie's shoulder.

"I had an awful dream." Cassie sat up, shaking her head in hopes the motion would chase away the lingering affects of the nightmare. She glanced at Maigret. A trace of malice on the other woman's face was replaced so quickly with one of sympathy that Cassie wondered if she'd imagined it. She stretched and grimaced. "Ouch, my shoulder feels like I slept on rocks." "I must have shook you too hard. Honestly, I was becoming afraid that you wouldn't waken at all. It's well past noon," Maigret said. "Where's Reid?" Cassie asked. The place in the bed beside her was unrumpled. He hadn't slept here, perhaps out of some sense of bygone gallantry hoping to save her reputation. It was sweet of him, but now she needed to see him, feel him. His absence left her with an ache inside. "I was hoping you could tell me where he is," Maigret said. "I haven't seen him since early this morning, before I fell asleep myself." Cassie began to dress, pulling on the first outfit that came out of her drawer. "If he's not in the house, I'll bet he's in the garden." "I've looked everywhere. He's not here." "Are you telling me that he's disappeared?" "So it would seem. And I've remembered a vital piece of information that he should know," Maigret said, studying her fingernails then eyeing Cassie. "While you slept, I talked to an old aunt of mine. She's sort of the family historian." Cassie paid little attention to Maigret's words. Her concern for Reid drove thoughts of anything else from her mind. Why had he left her? She cursed her declaration of love to him, though she hadn't seen him as a man who would be scared off by her words or feelings. Then again, she thought bitterly, why should she think men had changed so much in two hundred years. These days, all it took was a hint of commitment and a man treated you like a great white shark. Maigret had brewed what was left of the coffee in the kitchen. Cassie took a cup and thought absently that she really needed to get the place cleaned up and restocked soon. Then Maigret's words began to seep through. "? Aunt Zoe believes she knows the counter spell. It's a dangerous gamble, but it might work." "What?" Cassie sputtered, her coffee forgotten. "Did you say there is a solution to this?" Maigret smiled slightly. Why, Cassie wondered, did Maigret's face seem somehow altered this morning? As if it didn't fit her properly. Pure fancy of course. "Aunt wants to meet you and Reid. She says for the counter-spell to be effective, it must be spoken near where the original spell took hold." "Must Hunter be present, as well?" Maybe Maigret could show her the cave where he'd kept her. Clues to his whereabouts might be there.

"Not necessarily. The energy of his passing continues to emanate from the place. He had a strong psyche. The mental energy trace left behind will be enough." "We've got to find Reid. This could save him." Cassie grabbed her car keys. "I'm going to Eagle's Aerie. It's just a hunch, but I think he must have gone back there. Maybe something you said last night triggered a memory of where to look." She started out the door; Maigret hesitated behind her. "Aren't you coming?" Cassie asked, tapping her foot in her hurry. "Not -- no, I'll catch up with you later," Maigret's face twisted into a smile, tinged with confusion. "Meet me at the mansion, just before dusk. You must bring Reid as well. Trust me, all will be well." "Okay, fine. I'll see you then." Cassie hurried out the door, too intent on her search for Reid to wonder why Maigret would not accompany her. To Cassie's surprise, Reid met her at the front gate of the estate. "Where is she?" he demanded as he took her by the arm and led her away from the crowded entrance. "Who?" "That damned witch, of course." "I left her at the house. She said she'd meet us here later. Reid, she said she talked to her Aunt Zoe who knows the counter-spell to the one Hunter worked on you." She tried to catch her breath, but Reid led her at such a fast clip that she had to double her steps to keep up with him. "Isn't that just perfect," he said, the scorn in his voice nearly palpable. "You believed her." "Of course, this is just the information she promised to look for." She yanked her arm out of his grasp. It was the same one that Maigret had abused earlier. It hurt. "Quit pulling me around. You've got some explaining to do yourself. You left me this morning." Some measure of her anxiety must have reached out to Reid. He gestured toward a bench, which huddled amid a stand of ancient lilac bushes. Instead of explaining his own actions, he said, "Fred's been poisoned. He's in the hospital." Cassie gasped. "Poisoned. You mean, food poisoning, right?" His grave, gray eyes held her gaze as he shook his head. "No, Cassandra. The poisoning was quite deliberate. A concoction of local herbs combined in such a way to look like a heart attack. I found this near the guard shed." He showed her a small wooden bowl that appeared hand-carved from a burl of an oak tree. Inscriptions circled the bowl's lip. Pictures she couldn't quite make out decorated the inner edge. It was stained with a purple color, and damp, though if it had been left outside all night, the heavy dew would explain it. An acrid smell rose from the discolored portion. Cassie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yuck, what was in it?"

"I believe is was a concoction of digitalis. In large doses, lethal. It would mimic a heart attack. Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say, that the man in charge of security would become ill at this time? His assistant, who's been missing for several days, now shows up to take his place. And our little friend has 'discovered' the answer to all my problems at the same time." Reid paced in front of Cassie. "The trap is tightening, isn't it?" He didn't answer, which was answer enough. Cassie looked closer at the engraved figures on the bowl. They grimaced out of animal faces with human bodies. Their postures were lewd, dirty somehow. The bowl weighed heavy in her hand, steam rose from it and the smell sent her reeling. She grabbed her stomach as nausea roiled through her. Reid grabbed the bowl and hurled it into the foliage. "Come on. We need to find his hide-out now, while he's busy plotting his next move." "That's why you left me this morning, isn't it? You've figured out where he's been and why we couldn't find him." Again, Reid took her by the arm, but this time as a gentleman would. He guided her to a faint path under the trees. "It occurred to me," Reid said, as he held a branch from whacking Cassie in the face, "that Hunter may have been transformed when you stepped in front of the blade. Your intent was to save me, not him. So, I became a man again, in form as well as thought. He, I believe, remains incorporeal." "That would account for our not being able to discover him. What makes you think you can find him if you can't see him?" "He looks at this world through the eyes of others." "I wish I could get some straight answers for a change," Cassie grumbled. Reid grinned. "I'm surprised you continue to think in black and white after what we've gone through. There are no pat answers, only guesses and dares and the courage to follow through." The path now meandered across a sun drenched meadow. Wild flowers competed with native grasses for room. The smell, earth warmed by the sun, reminded Cassie of innocent childhood summers spent playing in just such a place. A bee buzzed in front of her nose, startling her. "I admire your courage, Reid, for trying to find a way to follow through. I'm afraid for you." He held her within the circle of his arms. Tenderly, he touched her eyelids, cheeks, hair, and lips. "I want to remember you, like this. Dressed in sunlight, smelling of sweet, green, growing things," he whispered. His kiss was tentative. A butterfly would have made no more of a fleeting touch on her than his lips did, yet the sensation rocked Cassie's world. He was saying good-bye. "No, I won't let --" Cassie started to say, she wouldn't let him go without a fight. "Shhh --" He fit his body more snugly against her and deepened the kiss.

"But --," Cassie tried again against his lips. A shadow crossed the sun. The chill, unusual for this time of day, brought Cassie's eyes open. Behind Reid, a human form appeared among the wild flowers. Maigret hit Reid over the head with the thick stick she carried. As he fell, his weight pulled Cassie down under him. Something connected with the back of her skull. Through the pain, she felt Reid roll off of her. Just before she passed out, Maigret leered at her. A face that wasn't Maigret's stared out of Maigret's eyes. Depravity incarnate was the last thing Cassie saw.

Chapter Thirteen

Cassie woke with a pounding headache. Clammy, cold air lay like dead skin on her bare arms. A scent, sulfurous and redolent with animal musk, assailed her nostrils. Her hands and feet were bound. She lay on her back on a rough surface. She didn't realize her eyes were open until, with a characteristic scratch, a flame appeared above her. When she blinked, the match went out, leaving her enclosed in darkness again. She didn't know who had lit the match and held it above her, but she knew it wasn't Reid. In the instant of illumination she'd been able to make out his long form sprawled beside her. Another body, just a dent in the feeble glow, lay beyond him. Wishing for light again, yet hoping to keep the cover of darkness to hide her movements, she tried to slide over the foot or so distance between her and Reid. A rustling sound, just above her head, stopped her. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she recalled that snakes adored cool caves on hot days. Fear and indecision held her helpless for precious seconds. She conquered the fear when a soft sound from Reid's direction reached her. Just a little further now -- she struggled to twist her body silently the last few inches. Her face touched the fine combed cotton of Reid's shirt. His unique scent relieved her nose of the other odors in the cave. Unsure of where her captor waited, Cassie burrowed her face into Reid's shirt. His back was to her and she felt his muscles tense when she touched him. He was awake. Good. She took a chance that his hands were tied behind him, as hers were, and rolled so she was backed against him. His hands gripped hers in the darkness. They began the arduous task of blindly untying the knots. Though her mouth was free, Cassie did not speak. Words weren't required at the moment, only escape. Besides, she didn't want Hunter, or whoever had brought them here, to know she was conscious. Any advantage, however slight, must be hoarded. Whether Reid was gagged was moot for the same reasons. Reid's fingers worked faster than Cassie's. He untied the rough rope around her wrists in scant minutes.

Once she worked the tingling of sensation back into her fingers, she continued to work on Reid's bonds. The rope was damp, difficult to manipulate, but she finally managed. Once their arms were free, they wasted a second in an embrace, then reached for the ropes around their feet. "You didn't really think I'd be so foolish as to let you escape again, did you?" The voice was the same one that had awakened Cassie that morning. Harsh, ugly laugher followed the words as another match flickered to life. The hand holding the flame touched it to the wick of an oil lamp. The person that faced them was familiar, yet terrifyingly different at the same time. Bob, Fred's assistant security guard, held the oil lamp aloft. The golden light hurt Cassie's eyes. The expression on Bob's face turned her cold. It was like Maigret's face this morning. The familiar over-laid with the unyielding sensation of something else looking through. The body on the earth beside Reid was recognizable now. Maigret. Bound as Cassie and Reid, with one exception, she wore a dirty rag over her mouth. Maigret was awake. Her green eyes flickered with anger in the light. Did her presence here mean that Hunter had further need of her powers? Cassie had to try something. "Bob, thank goodness you're here. Help us out, please." It laughed again. A feeble, recognizable, expression of Bob's anguish peered through the face, then it turned unreadable, stone-like. "Bob is, shall we say, on leave of absence, my dear. Though his body is quite capable, I found his devotion to you intolerable." Reid shifted in the dirt beside her. Cassie knew the simmering rage he held in check. He kept silent. "Why is Maigret tied up?" Cassie asked. "I thought she helped you." Her voice was bitter at the betrayal. "The call of blood lies thick, indeed, along my family tree." Its gleaming eyes turned on Maigret, who struggled against her bonds. "I needed her to get to you." "What do you need me for?" "My revenge wouldn't be nearly as sweet if I couldn't reenact earlier history," Hunter said. A chill that had nothing to do with the climate of the cave settled over Cassie. "Reenact earlier history?" Reid's muscles were bunched, ready to spring into action, now. "Of course. Before I kill this young cad again, I will seduce his love. Again. This time he gets to watch." "That's it." Reid roared. He jumped to his feet and swept a handful of the dust that covered the floor of the cave into Hunter's face. It only gave them a second, but they managed to run past the deranged man into the corridor beyond. "You can't escape me." Hunter's words echoed maniacally behind them.

Reid didn't falter. "I explored this cave in my youth," he said when they paused for breath. "There's more than one way out." "Can you find it without a light?" Cassie asked as her side scraped against the rough stone wall. "I'll have to." The air was close, heavy. Cassie lost all sense of direction. The tunnel narrowed around them. She was acutely aware of tons of earth and stone above and around them. She hated closed in places, had avoided them all her life because of her unreasoning fear. She swallowed the whimper that threatened its way up her throat and closed her eyes. Reid is with me. He won't let me die here. Even so, she grasped his hand with both of hers as he led her along. I'll just pretend this is a game, she thought a little wildly after it seemed they'd been traveling in the darkness for hours. But it wasn't a game. "Reid," her whispered voice bounced back to her, "what if the other entrance is blocked. Or he could be waiting for us." "I've thought of that. Look, we're close to the end, can't you tell?" He kissed her cheek. "Open your eyes, Cassandra. Light always conquers darkness. The sun shines. We'll find our way to it." "What about Maigret? We just left her there. I can't bear the thought of what he might do to her." Reid's hand tightened over hers. "At the time, it seemed I had little choice but to leave her to save you. We'll find a way to save her. She'll be of little use to him now that his scheme to use her is uncovered." "That's what I'm afraid of. Would he --? I mean, is he capable of murdering his own descendent?" Her throat closed over the words. Reid didn't answer. They walked toward the pale light. It flickered and danced. The opening was just ahead now. Cassie held back the urge to run towards it and the fresh free air it promised. She wasn't watching her feet. Reid stopped her just before she stepped into the water that formed a barrier between them and the small hole that was their means of escape. "Damn," Cassie muttered. Reid's comments were more original. "You suppose Hunter knew we'd be trapped here?" Cassandra asked. "I'm sure of it. I'll bet he thought we'd be trapped like rats in a hole." Reid eyed the distance across the water. Obviously the earth had moved and the underground river had changed course since he'd last explored this cave as a young boy. He didn't see movement. It could mean the current was slow, that this was just a pool, or that the main current was below their level of vision. They'd have to chance it. "I hope you can swim," he said to Cassandra. Her face lost the panicked expression.

"Sure, I have a Red Cross Lifesaving Card. But do I want to swim across? That is the question." Cassandra shivered. "It's just water. Even if it's deep, it's only ten feet wide." "I know. I just hate the thought of what might be in the water with us." Reid snorted. "I thought you didn't go in for fancy's of the imagination? Afraid the water monster will gobble you up?" Cassandra laughed. Her nervous giggles shivered across the water and rock, and echoed back. "Okay, I'll swim across, just to prove I'm not a coward." "Never a coward." Reid took her into his arms. "You are the bravest woman I have ever met. Now, take off your clothes, they'll drag us down and I've no notion to rescue you." "You first," Cassandra teased. She sobered when Reid ignored her request and began to unbutton her shirt. He shouldn't be doing this. Hunter could be right behind them, or have a trap set up on the other side of the exit hole. Cassandra's gasp, when he pulled her shoulders from the silky fabric, rewarded his wayward fingers. Her breasts were free of any restricting undergarment. They rose, small and perfect, on her chest. Each pink tipped nipple pearled in the sudden exposure to the air. He touched each reverently with his thumbs, then bent down and kissed them. "Reid, we can't. Not here, not now." Cassandra moaned and pushed her fingers through his hair. "I know. I just wanted a taste." Reid stepped back and struggled for composure. "You'd better finish the job or I'll take you right here, whether Hunter's on the prowl or not." He watched her fingers tremble momentarily as they fumbled for the fastening of her skirt before he turned his back and removed his clothing. If he watched her take off her clothes, his hard fought for self-control might very well desert him. "I'm ready." Cassandra's voice sounded small even though it echoed off the water. She appeared as beautiful as a young Aphrodite, naked with the water at her feet. Reid swallowed the rush of desire, but he couldn't help the hoarseness of his voice. "Give me your clothes, I'll hold them above my head so they'll be dry on the other side." "I can't wait to get out of here." Without waiting for him, she plunged into the water. "Wait," Reid said. He needn't have worried. Whatever the 'Red Cross Lifesaving' course was, it obviously taught her to swim. She walked several feet before she began to stroke across the quiet water. "It dropped off after only three feet." Her voice carried across the water. "It might be shallow enough for you to wade across. I didn't want to explore the bottom with my feet. I'm heading for that small ledge just below the hole." Two more feet and she hauled herself up, laughing with relief, no doubt, at being so close to her goal. He couldn't wait to join her.

The chill of the water sent a shiver through him as he waded in. First it closed over his feet, then his ankles and calves as if it didn't want to release him. So much for Cassandra's fancies, he derided himself. As Cassandra said, the shelf at the edge dropped off and he found himself treading water. It couldn't be too deep. He tried to remember the shallow depression that had been here centuries ago. It didn't really matter. An earthquake, even the gradual wearing down of the water course by a slow trickle, could widen and deepen the depression until it would be well over his head. His feet skimmed something hard. He jerked them up. Of course it wasn't teeth, just a rock. All the same, the temperature of the water was definitely colder down there. He had no desire to stay. "Come on, Reid. The mosquitoes have found me," Cassandra urged from where she waited in the shaft of light. Reid struck out with one arm aloft holding the clothing, the other arm pulling him through the water. A noise in the passage behind him caught his attention. Hunter stood there, a bedraggled Maigret grasped tightly in his hand. "She's more beautiful than your Elizabeth, Phillips. I look forward to the conquest of this one even more," Hunter called from the edge of the water. "I see you found a way across my moat." Reid ignored the taunting. He continued toward Cassandra. "The water seems heavy, though. Don't you think, Phillips?" Hunter?s voice was joined by a drone of Latin from Maigret. Reid's limbs felt weighted down, tired, useless. "Just a little further, Reid," Cassandra urged, her voice just above a whisper. "Looks like the tide is turning, Phillips," Hunter said. He thrust his free hand into the air as Maigret's voice rang out louder. Waves, tiny at first then growing in size moved towards Reid. Between Maigret's droning, the lead-heavy weight of his own body, and now the buffeting of the waves, Reid felt his strength wane. Tired, so tired. "That's right, Phillips. It's been centuries since you've had a good night's sleep. No wonder your eyes are closing, even as your sweetheart waits for you." Yes, it would be a relief to sleep. Just give up the burden of revenge and anger. His arm holding the dry clothes aloft dipped into the water. His legs ached with fatigue. Rest, sweet peace, he craved it. A splash brought him fully aware. Cassandra appeared next to him. She grabbed his shoulder. The waves tried to pull them apart. Cassandra yanked on him with more force. "I'm not letting him get you this easy," she shouted. "Fight it, Reid. He's using Maigret's powers, just as he hoped to. Together we can fight him." Water splashed into her mouth.

Her words and the emotion behind them, woke him from the semi-trance. He stretched for the safety of the ledge, Cassandra swimming beside him. Once there, the water stopped churning. Hunter stood opposite them. Maigret had crumpled to the ground. A green light glowed around Hunter as he laughed and shook his fist. "You see, Phillips, I have more power now than ever before. You'll sleep in Purgatory soon. I'll have all you hold dear." With that, Hunter picked Maigret from the ground and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He turned and walked away, the green light following him until he was out of sight. He's truly insane, Reid thought. He'd not only destroy my past, but this present as well. For what? Past grievances against a Revolution that's been over for years? Was his own need for revenge any nobler than Hunter's? Cassandra shivered beside him. "Here." He thrust her clothing at her. "Get dressed." She did so, silently. She didn't say a word until they managed to crawl out of the hole which emerged on the side of a hill facing the river. The sun was westering, gilding the slow moving water with golden light. Cassandra broke her silence. "We need Maigret's family." "I don't like to involve anyone else." His protest was half-hearted. "I don't think it really matters what you want anymore. Maigret is in trouble. We cannot help her against Hunter. Her family can." "I know," Reid agreed. He took her by the hand and walked towards the river bank. "You know? You've been fighting me all along in helping you and now you're not even going to object to the Penwarren's help?" "That's right, and so were you. I cannot do this alone. That little incident in the water convinced me that without the Penwarren's help, Hunter may very well win. I'm not prepared to lose to him again. Nor to lose you to him." "Thank you." She took his face in her hands and said it again, looking deeply into his eyes. "Now, let's find a telephone."

"Mother, how did you get this done?" Cassie looked around the now put together house with Constance. "When I saw Fred at the hospital today, he gave me the keys. I had a company come out to clean. I picked up a few kitchen things while I was out. Don't worry, I billed the insurance company for everything." Her eyes twinkled with suppressed delight. "How is Fred?"

"Recovering. He's a terrible patient. I could hear him from the elevator in the lobby shouting at the nurse that he didn't want a sponge bath or another needle stuck in him." She patted Cassie arm reassuringly. "He'll be fine." "Thank God," Cassie said. Some of her burden of worry slipped off at the news. "Okay, who's coming tonight?" She'd decided to call her mother about Maigret's problem. Constance surprised her by not asking too many questions. She simply agreed to contact Maigret's family and have them meet at Cassie's home as soon as they could get there. "Her brother, Chad, and her Aunt Zoe." Cassie inwardly trembled at the thought of meeting a man who could make himself appear and disappear at will, but he must be a powerful witch to be able to do so. As for Aunt Zoe, Maigret had mentioned that this Aunt had information on family history. She looked forward to meeting the woman, though she had her suspicions, as well. Cassie had no way of knowing if Hunter had been in direct power over Maigret when she mentioned Aunt Zoe. She couldn't help but feel they were all being manipulated somehow, and the puppet master was laughing as he pulled the strings. The doorbell rang, not the usual "ding-dong." It was more like a trumpet fanfare announcing royalty. Cassie raised her eyebrows. "Did they work on the doorbell today?" she asked her mother. Constance grinned. "No, that was one of Chad's little tricks. He's always got something up his sleeve. Come on, you'll love them both." Reid opened the door for the two visitors and ushered them into the family room. "Mistress Penwarren," he greeted Aunt Zoe with a gallant bow over her hand. The older woman resembled the mid-wife of one of Cassie's trances, right down to the impression of wisdom beyond this world. Cassie felt she'd been sent back in time once more. Chad was a different matter. There was no sense of down-home good nature about this man. An aura of invisible power radiated from him. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Reid, his dark auburn hair and deep brown eyes a provoking contrast to Reid's dark hair and blue-gray eyes. Chad nodded at Cassie as though they were already acquainted, shook hands with Constance, and regarded Reid with wary interest. "So, you're the spook that put my sister in danger?" Were the first words out of his mouth to Reid. Cassie stepped between them. Enmity vibrated from one to the other like an electrical current. "Cut it out," she said. "If anyone's to blame, it's me. I'm the one who interrupted the spell. Maigret offered her help, now she needs ours." Chad relaxed. Reid unclenched his fists. They both looked at Cassie, who had the great pleasure and confusion of enjoying the appraising glances of both. She loved Reid, but if they'd never met, something in Chad, physical and keen, called to her. She pushed the thought away, though she caught an amused smile on Chad's face as she gestured to everyone to sit. Cassie started the discussion. "Some of you know the full reason we're here. Some of you only think you know, or have guessed. So that we're all working with the same information, I'll tell you what happened a few nights ago at Eagle's Aerie. The situation we need to deal with started then."

Aunt Zoe interrupted. "This story started long before now, child. We'll need to go back many years in order to know all, if that is possible." "That's true," Cassie said. "Perhaps you should go first." "Thank you, my dear." Aunt Zoe settled into her chair, took off her gold rimmed eyeglasses and shut her eyes. Reid stopped playing with a strand of Cassie's hair. Constance set her glass full of rattling ice cubes on the coffee table. Chad stopped his idle wandering about the room. "Markus Penwarren arrived in the Virginia Colony in 1635," Aunt Zoe said, her voice low and sing-song. "He had left his native land of Scotland under suspicions of witchcraft and murder. The tale of his journey to the New World would be an adventure indeed. We'll save that for another time. All you need is from the time he landed on the Virginia shore. He was penniless. Worse, he indentured himself to a wealthy landowner. It was as close to slavery as a European could get in those days. Many poor souls sold themselves in this way in order to afford the trip. He dreamed of buying his freedom after years of servitude, so he willingly signed his name on the parchment. "The years of toil were hard on him, but he managed to save some money of his own and eventually won his freedom. By the time his indenture was over, Markus Penwarren was no longer a young man. With little more than the clothes he wore and his meager savings, Markus set out for the frontier. In those days, that included most of Virginia except the coast. Uncharted forests covered a good portion of the land, interspersed with winding rivers, sheltered meadows, and rolling hills. Food was abundant for a man who could aim straight and shoot steady. The natives were wary. They'd heard rumors of white men near the ocean. They liked Markus. He treated them as brothers. For weeks they were his only human companionship. "In time, Markus purchased a parcel of land from them. Not much in terms of acreage, but in terms of human accomplishment, he felt like a king. The Sachem's daughter married him. They settled in to watch their family grow with the crops they planted and the animals they kept." Aunt Zoe paused and opened her eyes to look around. She smiled at the rapt attention focused on her and reached for the glass of water Cassie had put nearby. Chad wandered again. Cassie understood the reasons for his nervous energy. It was his sister in jeopardy. He'd no doubt heard this story many times. He managed to contain his impatience. By the time he had settled on the hearth, Aunt Zoe was ready to continue. "The king of England had claimed all the land in the Virginia Colony as Crown Property. He doled out huge acres to youngest sons of his favored nobles. Rafe Farnsworth was one such man. The youngest of five sons, his prospects in England were slim. He had no desire to join the army, nor a vocation for the clergy. The chance to own land must have seemed a god-send to him. He had great ambitions and much energy. "Of course, the king didn't realize, or didn't care, that people already lived on the land he so blithely handed out in grants. You've guessed it. The grant awarded young Farnsworth contained the parcel Marcus Penwarren had bought from the natives and believed to be his own. "Naturally, you'd like to believe the enmity that sprang up between young Reid here and the Hunter of Penwarren birth began with that disagreement over land. In fact, Markus Penwarren and Rafe

Farnsworth recognized the intrinsic worth of each other. Farnsworth was pleased to have a neighbor already at hand when he arrived with workers to begin the arduous task of clearing the land and building the first small log house on it. Penwarren, not having spoken his mother tongue for years, appreciated his young neighbor's friendly enthusiasm for the New World. Farnsworth honored Penwarren's claim to the land within Farnsworth's grant. The two families became the foundation for the rest of the county as it grew." "Please, Aunt," Chad interrupted. "Get to the point. Move the timeline up to at least 1773, if you please." "Don't rush me, child. Each word is like a brick in a wall, small but with purpose," Aunt Zoe replied. The clock on the mantle struck the hour. The sun had set long ago and the night was close to the new day. She sighed. "But you're right. Maigret has gotten herself into a mess this time. I just hope I don't forget anything important by speeding things up. "By the time the Colonies were talking rebellion, Reid Phillips' father shared a fence line with the Farnsworths. The man you know as Hunter was a bastard. No one knows who fathered him. Even his mother, a woman of great wisdom and natural abilities for healing, didn't know who sired the child. He was like the devil himself growing up, giving lip service only to the morals of the day. He always felt left out, unwanted. His mother did her best, but she felt the strength of the boy's early power. Her need to defend herself and the rest of the family from the wickedness that seemed to reside in this one bad seed was brought to a head one day when she found Hunter trying to drown his baby half-brother." Cassie gasped in shock. "Why would he do a thing like that?" "The very words his mother shouted at him while she worked over reviving her baby. Even her knowledge of ancient rituals and worship hadn?t prepared her for what he told her. The child was to be a sacrifice to the Great Horned One." "The Devil?" Constance asked. Her hands held each side of the armrests of her chair in a white knuckled grip. "The Devil is a Christian term, my dear. Invented by the early church to dissuade Pagans from continuing to worship the earth and those who watch over it. To us, the Great Horned One is simply a father figure, the male god as opposed to the female goddess. We never conceived of him as cruel or depraved. How the child Hunter came up with the idea of sacrifice is unknown. But it was the catalyst that finally transformed him. His own mother cast him out of her house. She feared for the safety of the other children. They all had a power of one kind or another, much like Chad and Maigret and others of our clan. But none were old enough to make use of it. Certainly, none could use it to harm another for that is the creed that we live by, 'an it harm none.'" "I hope you're not making excuses for his actions or blaming his good mother, Mistress Zoe." Reid spoke from his corner of the sofa. "She was a good woman, and brought many healthy babes into the world as well as easing the way of dying for others. I pray you, do not cast him as a victim." "No, my dear boy." Aunt Zoe cast a glance of affection at Reid in his defense of her ancestor. "I'm simply relating the events as they've been handed down to me." "Aunt, we must finish by midnight if we're to be effective tonight." Chad's impatience showed in the set of

his chin and rigid posture. "I know child. Well, no one knows where Hunter went after being cast out. We can speculate, but no record is found again until the year Reid began to work for George Washington as a spy. It is written that," she paused and glanced at Reid's stone blank face, "Reid gave information to General Washington that provoked the militia attack in which Hunter's wife and child died. That is the reason Hunter wanted revenge." "No." Reid stood. "No Colonial militia would attack unarmed women and children." "Perhaps not well regulated men of honor," Aunt Zoe said. "But these men were radicals. It seems radicals pop up in history everywhere. They overheard a private discussion between you and the General. They believed they could achieve by surprise what the General would have done by honorable dealings. Hunter was storing arms and ammunition in a secret cache in a root cellar near his home. You, Reid, didn't know who he was or why he had such a large store of firepower, but you were suspicious. No private citizen had need of such weapons." "Yes, I remember wondering why any one person had such a cache, unless they were holding it to sell to someone," Reid took up the story. "Since my sources had not heard of Hunter or his wares, I assumed he planned to sell them to the British. I told the General that it was just a guess. I had no evidence against the man. That's why he did not act immediately. The radicals took the chance away from him." Aunt Zoe said, "It was one of those horrifying footnotes in history. Hunter was away from home. The militia thought the house was deserted. The ammunition exploded. Hunter's woman and child died in the fire."

Chapter Fourteen

Into the shocked silence, Reid said, "I had no idea. None." "Whether you knew or not, Hunter believes you did. That's why he set up your arrest on false charges. That's why he cursed you into a cycle of endless dying." Chad's words, spoken crisply, broke the tension in the room. "He must have been crazy with grief," Constance commented. "That's no excuse for seducing an innocent girl, and ruining a family's reputation," Cassie said. "Will this knowledge affect the course of action we take?" she asked Aunt Zoe. "Before we decide, we must hear your tale, and Maigret's," Aunt Zoe said. "It all started at sunset a few days ago. I thought I was alone on the estate --," Cassie began. As the story poured out, it sounded unbelievable even to her. Reid's presence was the only solid link to

the truth of her statements. For all her mother and the Penwarrens knew, he could be an actor she had hired to pretend to be Reid Phillips. Though what they might think her motivation for such an act, she couldn't begin to speculate. "I'm sorry we couldn't rescue Maigret from the cave. Everything happened so fast. Hunter was exerting some power over her. We decided we needed help of a different kind," Cassie finished. Guilt gnawed at her. She'd hated leaving Maigret with Hunter. She looked first at Chad, then Aunt Zoe. "We need your kind of help. Do we exorcise Hunter's spirit? Besides kidnapping Maigret, he's taken over the body of a friend of mine. Reid believes he's responsible for another friend being hospitalized. What should we do?" "Let's eat, then we'll go get Maigret. Honestly, I don't know what all the fuss is about." Constance's words had Cassie's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Mom, haven't you --" Chad interrupted smoothly. "We will need the energy, Constance. Why don't you set up the table and we'll be in shortly." "I hope everyone likes Chinese take-out," Constance said as she went through the doorway into the kitchen. "Up until now, she's treated us and our powers as a sort of parlor game," Chad explained to a confused Cassie. "This is the first time something has really touched her that she cannot explain. For all her purported embracing of crystals, Paganism, and the rest, she's as much of a skeptic as you, Cassie." The sounds of rustling paper bags and clanking cutlery came through the louvered door leading to the kitchen. "She's had me fooled all these years," Cassie murmured. "She was right about one thing," Reid said. "It is past time to take action. We know where Hunter was, and the host he's taken over. If I need to fight him again, believe me I'm more than willing. His presence here endangers too many good people." Aunt Zoe shifted in her seat and settled her gaze upon Reid. "Before we act, you must know the consequences and understand fully the course we take." Chad knelt at his Aunt's feet. "You know what to do, Aunt. Why do you hesitate?" "I am afraid." Her simple statement left Cassie gasping. If this wise, powerful woman was afraid, where did that leave the rest of them? As if reading her thoughts, Aunt Zoe smiled sadly and said, "I didn't say I wouldn't do it, my dear. I simply acknowledged my fear. I've sent an unhappy spirit out of this world before. The effects of the event have never left my soul." Reid said, "Mistress Zoe, perhaps there is no need for you to do anything. After all, this is my problem. I

will seek Hunter out and send him out of this world without your help. All you need to do is get Maigret away from him." "Ah, if it were only so simple." Aunt Zoe sighed. "Hunter is using Maigret. It is true that she has not yet mastered the finer points of control over her powers. She is young, but they are considerable. Hunter has tapped into them in such a way that you would not have a chance of finding him or defeating him without help. He knows you, reads your heart and soul. In his twisted way, he seeks to destroy you and yours and pull you back to that limbo again." "So be it. If that's what I must do, then I shall." "No," Cassie said. "No," Chad agreed. "You miss one point, Phillips. You are not the only one endangered by Hunter." "I know. He has Maigret, the security guard, Bob, and has caused Cassandra's friend to fall ill." "It's Cassandra's fate I'm concerned with," Chad said. Aunt Zoe concurred. "Hunter's appetite for vengeance has twisted him. Anything tied to you is a target for him." "It's true, I have some measure of -- affection for Cassandra." Reid avoided Cassie's eyes. "It's more than that," Chad explained. "Cassandra is more than a passing affection, Reid. If you don't realize it, then you're an idiot." Reid bristled, but remained silent. Aunt Zoe continued. "In many old houses, the shades and influences of those souls who died in them remain as nothing more than shadows, most of the time. Sometimes they have a more physical effect. In the case of the great house at Eagle's Aerie, stories about strange noises and things moving on their own have circulated for years. No one actually saw anything until Cassie arrived on the scene." Reid turned his back on the room and looked out the window onto the patio. "Cassie's soul is bound to yours, Reid. It always was, always will be. What you do with your body and soul will directly affect her. Believe me, I know." Sadness tinged Aunt Zoe's voice. Constance's voice surprised all of them. "Then tell us how to protect her and end this waiting. By the way, the food is ready, and I won't be put off any longer. I may seem like a foolish woman to you, but if my daughter is in danger, I have a right to be included." No one answered Constance. They ate the meal. Cassie wondered if she was the only one who couldn't taste the food. She went through the motions of eating because she knew she should, not because she wanted to. Chad finished first. "The energy of the original event is stronger at the house where it happened. Let's go." "Constance, please stay here. We may need someone to use the phone or take a message," Aunt Zoe said.

"But, I must go with you," Constance said, bewilderment showing clearly in eyes. Aunt Zoe touched the center of Constance's head with her index finger. When she pulled it away, Constance sat back down and said, "You're right of course. I'll be here when you return." "How'd you do that?" Cassie asked Aunt Zoe as they climbed into Chad's car. "I just made a little suggestion, my dear." The closer they came to Eagle's Aerie, the tighter the tension grew in the car. Chad drove fast and efficiently over the twisting country roads. The time was late, close to midnight. It pressed on Cassie. Pressed her to act, to do, to initiate an end; to end a beginning. Reid sat beside her in the enclosed space. He hadn't reached for her hand or tried to touch her since they had left the house. What did he think of Chad's announcement that their souls were intertwined? The short trip to the estate had never seemed so long before, nor so short. The night was eerily quiet. The dark tree branches above the car arched over the roadway to form a shadowed corridor. Only the headlights illuminated the street. A white shape flew across their path. Chad swerved and swore as he missed it. They watched the wide wings of the owl flap away. Cassie's heart pounded in her throat. Her hands perspired. She held them tightly in her lap At last, Chad pulled the car into the circle that heralded the entrance to the estate. In the faint glow of the rising moon, they saw that the electronic security lights were off. The gates glimmered spectral black in the reflected light from the car. Chad stared at the gates, frowning in concentration. He relaxed when they opened soundlessly. Though the gates required an intricate system of both physical and electronic keys to open during closed hours, Cassie forgot to be surprised. Acceptance was easier than continued questioning. Behind them, she heard a solid clank as the wrought iron gates closed on themselves ? ominous, final. Before they drove two hundred feet, Chad stopped the car and turned to Cassie and Reid. "I must warn you that our records indicate that Hunter is a master of illusion. Don't believe everything you see or hear. "How are we to determine the real from the illusion, Master Penwarren?" Reid asked, his voice tight and terse. "Here." Aunt Zoe passed two small pouches to them. Cassie thought they resembled much the same pouch she'd seen around Maigret's neck. She grew skeptical. "This didn't save Maigret," Cassie commented, though she accepted the gift. "Maigret entered this battlefield without the attitude that encourages the herbs in these pouches to work their best. If I know my niece, she believed she could appeal to Hunter as blood kin. We know better." Chad said, "We walk from here. I've no doubt Hunter has discerned our intentions to confront him. Even so, stealth can't hurt and on a night like this, the car has already made enough noise." They kept to the shadows of the ancient oak and linden trees. Their feet made little noise in the soft

grass. They were close to the mansion when Reid took Cassie's arm and held her back. "I doubt I can convince you to stay here," he said in a strained whisper. "You're absolutely right." She reached a hand up and touched his shadow lined face. Faint light shone from the waxing moon, and was reflected from his eyes. "I don't know what will happen tonight," Reid hesitated. "Know this, even when you think all is lost, hope and love always remain. Have courage." "So, you've given up already? Without a fight?" She demanded, dashing angry tears away with her hand. Reid held her close enough to hear his heart pounding, steady and strong. His hands caressed her hair. She fought a rising tide of premature grief and panic. She was going to lose him. After all these years, she'd found a love she'd never dreamed existed for her, and now had to prepare to lose it. Damn. She tried to hold onto the anger and lost grip of it as Reid kissed her. It was one of those soul searing, feel it to the tips of your toes, brand it in your heart kind of kisses that she'd read about in her most poignant romance novels. The reality shattered her last hold on the pragmatic, bookish scholar. The woman inside her heart reached out and kissed Reid back with an offering that bespoke more than the 'til death do us part variety. Reid broke the contact first. His hands trembled as they held her away from him. He didn't look back as he hurried to catch up with Chad and Aunt Zoe. Cassie followed, shaken but determined to see through whatever was fated to transpire this night. She met the other three at the main door of the great house. As she suspected, the red lights of the electronic locks were not blinking. They walked through the unlocked door. Maigret greeted them. She wore a rose patterned, floor-length gown of satin and lace. Her flame gold hair was caught up in a white mob cap. A few tendrils had escaped. They curled across her ears and forehead, haloing her smiling face. She curtseyed. Cassie hadn?t realized until Maigret moved and candles burst into flame from the wall sconces, that the light that bathed Maigret came from within her. She shook her head to dispel the fancy, then took a closer look. Her friend was transparent, only two-dimensional. An illusion? Chad would rack it up to Hunter's power, but any good special effects man from Hollywood could do the same thing, given the time and equipment. "Nice trick, Hunter," Cassie said into the dead air. Her words fell heavy into the carpet at their feet. "Hush." Aunt Zoe laid a warning hand on Cassie's arm. "He's testing us. Come." She ignored the vision of Maigret and led the others into the room where Reid's centuries old passion play had occurred. Cassie felt Reid stiffen beside her as they entered the room. As in her first dream of him, the room was decorated vividly. The oriental carpeting glowed with the color of new rugs and the plank flooring gleamed with polish in the reflected light of hundreds of candles. The scents of beeswax and vanilla and roses assailed Cassie's nose. That part of the illusion fled as she detected the underlying smell of mold and decay that only very old houses kept secreted behind the walls.

The music held her rapt. It was an old folk-tune. She recognized it as one she'd danced to in her dream. Fiddles, pipes and bells spun the notes around and through her brain until she knew she must dance. "Come on, Reid. Dance with me," she said, her voice coaxing and teasing. He turned his stone-faced regard upon her and shook his head. At his shoulder, Chad and Aunt Zoe looked on her with something akin to dismay. She ignored them and turned to look for another partner. From an unlit corner of the room, a man appeared. Oh, he was a dandy, all right. From his dark, long hair to his silver buckled shoes he exuded high fashion. Cassie felt herself laughing with delight and gave him her hand as he approached her and bowed. His clasp was icy. For a moment the room and its furnishings trembled and faded. She blinked, then heard the music again. This time the man who held her was older, but not elderly. Not as tall as Reid, though certainly a man who lived and thrived in an active life. She felt his powerful muscles through the smooth fabric of his coat. He held her in a most improper manner and swung her through the steps of a waltz. She hoped Mother wasn't watching. Mother didn't think the waltz a proper dance for unmarried women. At this thought, her partner began to laugh. Cassie looked into his face with surprise. Her own heart flipped over when she recognized the glowing red eyes and maniacal grin of Hunter. "No," she shouted and pushed away from him. The room spun slowly, then faster and faster. The music increased in volume and tempo. A clap of unearthly noise rocked Cassie's tenuous hold on what was left of reality. She found herself released, and fell to the floor. Her head pounded. She gasped for breath. Masculine hands reached for her. She backed away in terror. "He's gone, Cassandra. Chad broke the spell." Reid's soothing voice touched the fear. The rest of the hallucination vanished from her mind. "Did you -- did you see him?" Cassie asked when she could speak. "Just as a dark shadow." Reid shuddered. He'd watched his beloved leave him and become enveloped in the oily version of Hunter?s soul. He'd been unable to prevent it. "What stopped it?" "Chad. I'm not sure what he did. I heard a word or two in Latin and then you were on the floor." He helped Cassandra to her feet. Chad and Aunt Zoe were busy in the center of the room. Nothing in the furnishings or room itself had changed, but the assault on her senses faded. Chad placed the last of six white candles around the perimeter of the circle he had created with a white powder. "Sea salt?" Cassandra asked.

"Right the first time," Chad said lightly, but his expression was focused on Aunt Zoe. That lady had changed clothes. Reid didn't remember when or how. She now wore a gown of shimmering white. It was belted at the waist with a thong of leather strung with stones, some glittering in the light, others dull. She looked youthful in this attire. Reid found himself wondering just how old she was. As they watched, Aunt Zoe took a slender rod from one of the folds in her gown. It was about the length of Reid's forearm. At first he thought it was a simple wooden dowel, then, with a word from Aunt Zoe, it began to glow from within. It appeared to be a rod of crystal, pale pink in color and flecked with gold. Aunt Zoe paced around the outer edge of the circle. As she walked, she chanted and pointed the tip of the rod to the salt. The white powder glittered as she passed. Each white candle burst into flame as she walked by. Finally, she reached the point where she'd started and smoothed one hand over the rod. The glow vanished. "All right children. We now have at least one protected place in this house. Enter with open hearts and minds and the God and Goddess will protect all within ?. An it harm none." Reid, Cassandra and Chad stepped over the silvery circle and joined her. "Magic and witchcraft," Reid muttered. "Like most educated men I attributed such talk to the superstitious nonsense of ignorant minds. In a world of flying boats and electricity, how does such a craft survive?" He'd been speaking metaphorically, not really expecting an answer. Chad astonished him with an honest reply. "We've learned to hide behind technology." He shrugged. "Younger witches, like Maigret, have even learned to use it without diminishing their power. It is more a way of living than about magic. The magic is a fringe benefit, though not everybody sees it that way. They surely didn't centuries ago." "Now what?" Cassandra asked. Reid was pleased to see she'd lost the pallor that had taken over earlier. "Silence, please," Aunt Zoe commanded. She closed her eyes, then opened them and pointed towards the entrance to the room. "They come. Remember what Chad said about illusions." Reid had time to hear Cassandra mumble, "I'm not about to forget that any time soon." He even had a second to feel relieved that she had recovered fast enough to make light of her experience. Hunter's appearance at the door, a bedraggled Maigret in tow, sent his heart plummeting. The moment of resolution was at hand. He looked on the face of his nemesis. Behind Bob's mild blue eyes and weak chin, Reid saw the sinister shadow of Hunter's countenance. It moved like a veil over the face of the man it possessed. It sneered at the four of them within their protected circle. "This is ripe. Good ranged against evil?" Hunter spoke, his voice a grating mixture of Bob's mild tones and a crueler, harsher underlying note.

"You remember the vow you took ages ago, 'an it harm none.' We're simply here to remind you and to take our own back," Aunt Zoe replied. "I suppose you've thought of some appropriate retribution? Don't forget your own vows." Maigret whimpered. Hunter shook her like a doll. Reid felt Chad straighten from his casual stance to rod-like readiness. Chad had an inordinate amount of self-control. He worked under the same rules as did Aunt Zoe and Maigret. Yet this treatment of his sister must be pushing him to the brink. Aunt Zoe cast a cautioning glance at Chad, then said, "We wish our own returned to us. As for retribution, that is not within our power, or desire. We simply wish to show you the way to peace that you lost so long ago." "I'll trade this child for that woman whom Phillips seems intent on protecting." Reid decided it was time to take control of the situation. "Quit pussy-footing around, Hunter," Reid forced his voice into cool arrogance. "Just find a couple of swords and let's finish it here and now." "He speaks," Hunter said, feigning amazement. "I thought only women and witches spoke for you." Reid had had enough baiting. He didn't know what Hunter planned. All he knew was that he had to act. Without looking at Cassandra, Reid pushed her into Chad's arms saying, "Hold her." Then he strode from the protective circle. At once, misty darkness enclosed him. A deep fog surrounded his senses. The clearest image he had was that of Hunter, not in Bob's body but as a disembodied entity. Through the haze, he heard Cassandra's muffled cry. He ignored it. Before Hunter had time to react, Reid strode over to the shadow that glowed with Maigret's personality and took her from her captor. She went with him willingly. Indeed, Hunter let her go without any struggle. Reid thrust her towards the circle, hoping that Aunt Zoe would have the presence of mind to pull her into the protected circle of magic. Now it was him against Hunter, as it had been through ages of battle. Weaponless, he advanced upon his enemy. His aim had turned from revenge, he didn't have time now to think about why or when the change had occurred. His purpose now was clearer, more in tune with the teaching of his time and class. The man or spirit had been injured grievously. It struck out as any wounded animal. Reid planned to separate the spirit from Cassandra's friend, and somehow send it on its way to the afterlife. If need be, he'd accompany it on its journey. The shadow spoke to his thoughts. "Aye, you woman killing bastard, you'll accompany me to Hell, all right." "So be it." Reid felt the familiar, rough grip of his sword in his hand. Exultation mixed with fear flowed through him. Dimly in the background he heard other voices. One voice, his beloved's, called to him in anger. He took a second to cast a thought of love. The other voices chanted solemn words in a language older than he. The sound held power, comfort. He let it fill him even as the shadow that was his enemy sprang towards him. The mist of uncertainty disappeared. All that remained in the universe was Hunter and himself. Their fight

was to the death, not the half death of before. Cool waves of power flowed through Reid's body. He knew the power came from the chanting. He dismissed the source. It was his power. He would use it. Hunter dropped all semblance of the body he'd inhabited. His form twisted and writhed, smoke-like, as he raised his sword at Reid. It fell, cold and gleaming against Reid's raised weapon. Reid parried, then thrust. He sprang forward, back, twisting, turning and striking in a dance of skill and destiny. As they went through the form of their fight, the room around them swirled, and faded. Reid, focused on any detail that would give him ascendancy, saw the bright colors of his own day fade into the moldy, peeling paint and threadbare carpets of neglect. He slid in a puddle of water the house remembered from a rainstorm when the roof needed repair. Hunter nearly got him then, but Reid fended off the blow. He rolled back to his feet with only a rip in his shirt and a thin line of blood to show for it. Windows blew out in shattering blasts of sound and glittering shards of glass. A howling wind extinguished the candles. Reid didn't need their light. Hunter glowed with an infernal fire that made him easier to see in the dark. The chanting grew louder. A flash of lightning rent the sky. A crash of thunder followed. Blinded momentarily, Reid lost track of Hunter. He blinked just in time to see Hunter's sword thrust. Death stared at him again. There was no Cassandra to save him this time, only his own skill and cunning. He managed to turn away from the main thrust of the sword. It sliced open three inches of skin on his abdomen. The line of pain raced like fire through him. Blood dripped like rain. Cassandra shouted a warning to him. Too late. Hunter took full advantage of Reid's momentary weakness and closed for the killing blow. "Hell is too good a place for you." Hunter circled Reid's crouched figure. "We'll make a game of it for two more centuries, shall we?" Horrified at being thrust into limbo again, Reid made a valiant effort to cut short the words that erupted from Hunter's mouth. Hunter's chanting left him bereft of the cleansing power of the Penwarren witches. Hunter's words called on time to tangle them again in its skein of endless nights. "No. I will not," Reid shouted. He swept his sword towards Hunter's throat. Hunter side-stepped the thrust, deftly dancing out of the way. "The Time is now," Hunter commanded. Reid knew he wouldn't survive the sword of the mad man. He tried, but pain and exhaustion won out. He waited for the end of life, the beginning of damnation. Cassandra cried his name over and over. His soul wept with hers for what they'd had, what they had lost, what could have been. The chanting of the Penwarrens rose to ear shattering intensity. A flash of blue light appeared beside Reid. A woman took shape, young, vital. A small child appeared with her. To Reid's amazement, Hunter's sword thrust faltered.

"Marie?" Hunter's voice shook. The tip of his sword trembled. "Darling, come with us. You've suffered enough," Marie's spirit said. "But this soul must pay for taking you away from me." Hunter's sword became steady again inches from Reid's chest. "It was not his doing, my darling. He's paid too dear a price. Your actions would keep you from us forever," she said, her voice infinitely gentle and full of such tenderness that Reid felt tears spring to his eyes. "I -- I missed you so." Hunter stepped back. His sword clattered to the floor and disappeared in a gleam of gold. "Come." Marie took the child by one hand and Hunter by the other. They turned away from where Reid lay on the floor. Reid struggled to his knees. The chanting stopped. He could see the Penwarrens and Cassandra within the magic circle. He hadn't been able to during his fight. Pain pushed him back to the floor. Marie's shade paused before stepping through a portal of light that now arched across a wall of the room. "You are weary," she said to Reid. "You may come with us if you wish. The choice is yours." Hunter was no longer the dark shade that he'd been to Reid for centuries. He now appeared younger, clothed in glowing white cloth. He smiled at Reid without malice. Beyond the portal Reid saw another figure emerge. This young woman had long, dark curls and a laughing smile of understanding upon her lips. Elizabeth held out a hand of welcome. It would be an easy thing to go, even when his heart tugged at him to stay. Reid rose painfully to his feet. Time rushed over him and through him until he thought he'd be swept away by it. A wind pushed him towards the portal where Hunter and his small family had already entered. Reid turned towards Cassandra. The circle of light was gone but none of the four came towards him. Even Cassandra knew this decision was his alone. The love and pain she felt for him showed on her face and surrounded her in an aura of beauty. He looked again towards Elizabeth. She smiled in understanding. The last thing Reid remembered was falling until soft arms lifted him up.

Chapter Fifteen

When Reid walked from the magic circle, the flames rose around those within in bright streamers of light. Chad's arms imprisoned Cassie. The lines of flame created a second barrier. She struggled briefly with Chad before she realized the futility of her actions. Reid had made his move without her. Now the flame was so bright and nearly opaque, she couldn't see him. "I won't leave, Chad. Please let me go," she said. He held her a moment longer. Something tickled her brain. He released her. "I see you are telling the truth." "You read my mind?" "You could call it that." Cassie scowled at him. "Well, don't do it again." The light around them shimmered. "Now what?" The bars of flame parted as Maigret stumbled through. Aunt Zoe caught her and helped her sit on the floor. "There, child. You're safe now," Aunt Zoe crooned. Maigret's eyes widened. "He allowed me to go. Who went in my place?" She glanced all around her, then grimaced. "How could you let Reid go? He's not prepared for what awaits him. I must help." Chad held her much as he'd restrained Cassie. "He's ready for this confrontation, Maigret. As for preparation, look how much it helped you." Maigret hung her head. Cassie glimpsed her blinking back tears before she turned away. "It's his destiny," Cassie said to her friend. "I only wish I could make it come out differently this time." "If you want, you may watch," Aunt Zoe said. "I must," Cassie said. "The outcome involves me, too. Tell me what to do." "Hold the amulet between both hands. Concentrate all your energies on Reid. Focus on good thoughts. It may help him." "I'll try." Cassie felt the amulet grow warm as she clasped it. She stared at the wall of flame. As she concentrated, the opacity diminished. Her mind spun dizzily for seconds. It reminded her of the first evening Maigret had accompanied her to the house. Touching Maigret, who had held her own amulet, had focused the scene of Reid and Hunter into dazzling clarity. Now she could see the room beyond their small circle. Reid stood, sword in hand, and spoke to a creature of smoke and darkness. She heard the words spoken, felt the strength of Reid's resolve in her own heart.

She caught her breath as a sword materialized from the smoke. At the same time, the smoke formed itself into a man. Hunter looked at the weapon in his hand, then attacked Reid. The fight went back and forth and around the room. At times, Reid stepped as if he were moving around an object which was unseen by Cassie. The Penwarrens formed a tight semi-circle around Cassie. They began to chant in an unknown tongue. Waves of power flowed from them and washed over her. She saw the waves shimmer as they crossed the now invisible fence that outlined the circle. Reid tripped and fell. Hunter took advantage of Reid's fall and lunged for him. Blood. Cassie saw it drip from the cut in Reid's shirt and body. She tensed, waiting for the final blow. Reid managed to roll away in time. He was loosing strength with the flowing blood. Hunter's eyes gleamed with demonic rage as he pressed the attack. Reid went down again. His anger, accompanied by regret, was clear to Cassie through the tenuous connection between their hearts and souls. The Penwarren's chant rose to a deafening roar as Hunter loomed over Reid. "He's going to curse Reid again," Cassie said aloud as she realized that Hunter meant to plunge himself and Reid back into the limbo she'd saved them from. "I won't let him do it." Chad didn't try to stop her this time. As she stepped through the magic of the circle, a shattering light obscured her vision. She held her hands to her eyes in surprise. When she lowered them, the room was suffused with an unearthly shine. A miracle stopped her in her tracks. An angel was the only thing Cassie could think of as she saw the breathtakingly beautiful woman, clothed in golden light, appear between Reid and Hunter. With her was a small child, cherubic and serene, sucking her thumb. Cassie blinked at the wondrous sight. She longed to join them, for they held a beauty unheard of on this earth. Something held her back. The Penwarrens stopped chanting. Cassie's heart swelled with goodwill as Hunter took the redemption offered. She felt herself torn in two as the figure of Elizabeth arrived and spoke to Reid. Her heart must have stopped beating. She literally couldn't breath as she waited for Reid to make his decision. Part of her, the part that loved him with the unselfishness of pure love, hoped he would chose the peace he so truly deserved. Of course, she wasn't completely unselfish. Her life without Reid loomed empty, unbearable, before her. All she could do was watch and hope and pray. She saw Elizabeth smile. How could any man deny the gift offered? She closed her eyes, unwilling to watch Reid leave her completely, irrevocably. The tension holding her snapped. She opened her eyes to see Reid motionless on the floor at her feet. The glow from heaven had left, leaving a peace behind that the mansion hadn't been filled with since the events which had killed Reid centuries ago.

Cassie knelt by Reid's side. He was as unmoving as a fallen statue. She couldn't detect the rise and fall of his chest. Panic touched her. He'd left her after all. Tears pooled in her eyes and fell unrestrained down her face as she wept, bereft. The air moved around her. Warm arms held her and comforted her. "He's dead," Cassie cried. "He -- he went with Elizabeth. Part of me hoped he would. He deserved that kind of peace. But -- " She couldn't finish. Maigret hugged her. A low singing, soft and wordless, brought a degree of composure back to Cassie, enough so that she could push away from Maigret and see Aunt Zoe and Chad examining Reid. A look passed between aunt and nephew. That's when Cassie knew without a doubt that he was gone. "Come, see him at peace and say your farewell," Maigret urged. "I know it's the right thing for him. I know that," Cassie babbled through her tears. She picked up Reid's hand that lay closest to hers. It was limp, lifeless. She remembered it touching her, bringing her pleasure, holding a cup of coffee, caressing a book. Kissing it, she crossed it over his chest. "I'll always love you, Reid." Aunt Zoe looked up at the two young women. Cassie saw a gleam in her eyes, suspiciously like tears with a hint of an emotion different from grief. "Maigret, take Cassie home. Chad and I will see to things here." "But, I must stay with him. There are arrangements to make," Cassie objected. "He's beyond your care, child." Aunt Zoe's voice held tender concern. "Chad and I will care for him. Go home; try to sleep. Maigret must rest also." "Sleep? I'm not sure I want to," Cassie said, numb. She allowed Maigret to pull her away. The ride back to her temporary home passed in a mental fog. She didn't remember getting into a car or even into the house. Constance met them at the door. "Where are the others? Oh, Maigret." She hugged the witch. "I'm so glad to see you safe. You look exhausted. Come right in here and have a nice soaking bath, then into bed with you. Do you need a doctor?" Her motherly concern had Maigret smiling. "No, Constance. Just superficial cuts and bruises, nothing a good night's sleep won't cure." "Wonderful. Now, Cassandra." Constance looked more closely at her daughter. "No questions tonight mother," Cassie stalled. "I can't bear to think about it." "Where is Zoe and Chad and your young man, Reid?" "Reid is --" Cassie couldn't say it, not yet. Maigret saved her.

"Reid has gone away, Constance." Constance looked from one young woman to the other in confusion. Both looked battered, physically and emotionally. Cassie appeared to be at the brink of losing control completely, a state Constance had never seen in her pragmatic, always on top of the situation daughter. Clearly, rest was the first order of business. She'd hold her questions until later.

It was actually much later before Constance received a satisfactory answer to all her questions. Maigret brewed a hot herbal drink and forced Cassie to swallow it. It brought a dreamless sleep, the best thing for the grieving woman. Cassie slept through almost thirty-six hours before she opened her eyes to sunlight flooding through the uncovered windows of her bedroom. The scent of roses blooming directly outside the window came in with the soft breeze. Cassie breathed in deeply and smiled. What a lovely smell to wake up to. She must tell Reid -Her thoughts skidded to a stop. Reid was gone, dead. She'd never be able to tell him anything. She rolled over and buried her head in her pillows and wept while her heart broke all over again. Constance, warned by Maigret of Cassie?s loss, found Cassie crying. "Come here, dear." Constance held Cassie, wishing with all her heart that she could protect her daughter, take away the deep pain that she knew coursed through her. "I'm so sorry about what happened. Maigret told me." They sat together until Cassie's weeping slowed, then ceased. "I know it's hard to hear this and believe right now, dear, but time will help to heal you," Constance said. "You're right, mother. I don't want to hear this right now." Cassie pushed away from her mother and climbed from the bed. "I've cried enough. Reid brought me a precious gift and shared it with me for only a short while. Now he's gone, but the gift remains. I'll live." Her words, mixed with tears, tasted bitter on her tongue. Alarmed at the hard, back-off, look in her daughter's eyes, Constance said, "As I said, it will take time, but you'll find someone else." Cassie didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her mother's naiveté. Find someone else? Her soul was bound already. There would never be anyone else. She took her empty heart and put it far away from her consciousness. She couldn't bear the hollow beat. Then she pulled her suitcase from the closet and began to pack her clothes.

Fred, confined to a hospital bed, argued with Cassie. "Baby, I know you're hurting. I can see it in your face. But running away isn't the answer. Especially now. Stay with the people who care about you. We'll help you pull through this."

Guilt mingled with pain. Cassie pushed the unwanted emotions away. "I don't expect you to understand. I just came to make sure they are treating you okay before I leave." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded flat, wooden. It fit the way she felt. He tried a different tack. "So, you're going to leave the nice people at Eagle's Aerie without their best docent? The busiest part of the year starts just next week." Cassie shrugged. "You know they always have more applicants than jobs available. They don't need me." "Well, it sure makes me look bad," Fred grumbled. "I recommended you and now you up and leave without even a week's notice. I thought you were raised to honor your responsibilities." That did it. Her temper flared to life. "That's enough, Fred. You've been closer than an uncle to me, and I love you for it. But I've been responsible and self-sacrificing all my life. I'm sorry if I no longer fit the neat little mold I was born into. Now I need some time for myself. It's past time for me to figure out what I really want out of life. That docent job was just another way for me to further my career in a dry dusty job in academia. Well, there's a whole world out there that has never heard about Eagle's Aerie or the rest of it. That place is waiting for me." She softened at the stricken look on Fred's face. "I have to go away before I lose something very precious to me, Fred. I'm afraid that if I stay, I'll never be free to understand the gift that was given to me." She turned away before he could see the pain rushing to the surface. Again, with an effort of enormous will, Cassie pushed the anguish away. "Cassandra Jane Pierce, no one knows better than me how much it hurts when the person you love, dies." Fred's voice roughened with strong emotion. He'd lost a child years ago. "I know, Fred." Cassie pressed his hand to her cheek. "I'm not going away forever, just until the summer is over. Give me that much time." "Okay, okay." Fred sighed, then twitched around in the bed. "Man, I wish they'd unhook me from this dang machine and let me go home." Cassie smiled. She'd won this round. "See you around, Fred." "Yeah, you come back to us. Hear?" She nodded, then left the room. Her decision to leave her job, and Virginia itself, had been abrupt. She simply couldn't bear to hear the sounds, smell the scents, see the sights that she'd shared with Reid, and never could again. Simple self-pity explained her decision in part. She acknowledged it. Deep grief added to her need to go some place she'd never been before. Constance fought with her over the change in her life. Cassie'd worked long and hard to win the scholarships and positions at the University. Right now, Cassie didn't give a fig for all her awards and prestige. The thought of immersing herself in the study of the early years of the country sent a sick quiver through her stomach. No, she needed to find something else to occupy her until she figured out where to find a life again.

Her heart hurt. She admitted it to herself in the darkest part of the night when she was alone and couldn't sleep. In truth, she didn't want to sleep. She was afraid of what she would dream. Funny, until had Reid burst into her life, she hadn't realized what a fragile organ the heart was. It had always seemed so strong, pumping gallons of blood through her body. But it wasn't. A simple thing like love had left her in shards, sharp and painful as cut glass. She'd leave it that way, for a while at least. Until she could bear touching each piece, each memory, and putting it all back together. Then, she'd remember the love, the gift Reid had left her with. "North, South, or West?" Maigret asked her as they shared coffee at Cassie's mother's house. Maigret hadn't argued with her decision. It was refreshing, but at the same time very slightly -- annoying. "I've never been to Maine. I thought I'd try my hand at fishing. My savings are in good shape. I have money to live on for a while. When it runs out, I'll find a job." "I've no doubt that you'll manage, whatever you decide to do," Maigret said. They sat outside under an umbrella on the patio and sipped iced coffee through long, curly straws. Maigret wore a linen shift of sunshine yellow. Her elegance reminded Cassie of their first meeting not so long ago. "I'll manage." "Shall I give the rest of the family your farewell?" Maigret asked. "Please. I'm leaving this afternoon by train and won't have time to see them myself." Cassie didn't particularly want to see Aunt Zoe or Chad. The last time she'd seen them, they'd been huddled around Reid, preparing to 'take care of him.' She shivered at the memory, then tucked it away. The trip to Bangor, Maine took well over fifteen hours. Cassie changed trains in Boston. It was only three in the morning, yet South Station bustled with travelers. She remembered that the long Fourth of July weekend was approaching. No wonder the trains were full. Cassie took a bus from Bangor to Newport, Maine. Fred, who seemed to have friends everywhere, had called her at her mother's house to tell her that his friends in Newport had a small cabin they were willing to rent out. Cassie jumped at Fred's offer, relieved to have some kind of direction. Newport was a small town whose population swelled during the summer months with vacation residents. It encompassed Lake Sebasticook, the main attraction in town. Summer homes, with docks jutting into the water, speckled the shores of the lake. Even in this northern state, the sun shone hot on a summer day. Cassie ducked into the door of a diner on Main Street. She ordered an iced tea and BLT and asked her waitress the best way to get to Grove Street. "I'll call Stan when you're done with your lunch. He runs the only cab in town," Emily, her waitress offered. "Thanks."

"You here on vacation?" Emily asked, bored. It was late in the afternoon ? Too late for a lunch crowd, too early for the dinner folks. Her only other customer was a lady who had her hands full with two young boys more interested in eating their ice cream cones quickly than doing it neatly. "I guess you'd call it a Sabbatical," Cassie replied. She was hungry. She'd been too wound up to eat on the train, and too weary to find someplace to eat once arriving in Bangor. "That sounds more important than everyone else's reason, escaping the heat. Where are you from? Not New England, or New York. I can spot a New Yorker from a hundred yards," Emily confessed. Cassie found herself enjoying the rather one-sided conversation. Emily was curious and friendly, in a way Cassie hadn't come across since she'd moved away from the small town in Virginia where she'd grown up. She deflected the question of where she was from with one of her own. "How can you tell someone is from New York?" Emily's brown eyes sparkled behind her blue rimmed eyeglasses. "They talk real loud, use their hands a lot, and wear some of the oddest clothes. Yesterday a teenager came in and ordered a soda. Before she even opened her mouth to speak, I could tell she was from the Big City. Dressed all in black on one of the hottest days so far. And her hair, why Mother Nature never created purple hair yet that I know of. The funny thing was, even though she was dressed like that, she was kind of shy and polite." "I suppose this is a busy time of year." "Aye yup. Like the state license plates say, this is 'Vacationland.' Now, where did you say you came from?" This time, a noisy group of kids, followed by two sets of harassed looking parents, saved Cassie from speaking about herself. Emily winked at her and left to settle her new customers. Cassie finished her meal and went to pay the bill. The long hours of travel were catching up with her. All she wanted was to find the place allotted to lay her head. True to her word, Emily found Cassie a cab and waved her off with a cheery, "See you soon." Stan was the taciturn type of Mainer. Once Cassie told him her destination, he clamped tightly on the unlit pipe in his mouth and turned his attention to the road. It really was beautiful and peaceful. Cassie experienced a twinge of apprehension. Maybe being by herself to think things through wasn't such a great idea after all. Right now the pain of Reid's loss hung sharp and immediate. What would she do with herself to keep from dwelling on his absence? She shook her thoughts away and focused on the scenery. She had yet to get more than a glimpse of the lake through the dense trees and foliage. The road twisted in through a narrow, tree-lined corridor. After a mile or so, the pavement gave way to gravel. The driveways and mailboxes were further apart. Sunlight, westering now, dappled the leaves of the trees overhead. Cassie was unfamiliar with the wild flowers of this climate, though she recognized many trees. At last the road ran out. Stan pulled into a dirt drive. The mailbox read, "Copeland." This was the place.

The drive ended in a small circle of grass. A two-story frame house, white with green painted trim, greeted them. No one answered Cassie's knock. "They aren't home much," Stan mumbled around his pipe. He reached under the doormat and found a key, then took Cassie's suitcases from the cab and walked away from the house. Cassie had little choice but to follow. They didn't go far. Stan led Cassie along a dirt path, over grown with seedlings and edged with brambles, to a stone step. He dropped her suitcases and unlocked the battered wooden door. It squeaked in protest when Stan shoved it open. "It ain't much to look at, but it's clean." He turned to go. "How much do I owe you?" Cassie asked. She wasn't quite ready to be left alone yet. The isolation of the place combined with its run-down air left her slightly depressed. She paid Stan and watched his stocky form plod away. For a moment she simply absorbed the atmosphere around her. The little cabin stood back from the shore of the lake on the edge of a meadow bounded by leafy green woodland. Privacy was what she had wanted. She'd certainly get it here. Faint sounds of racing motor boats reached her ears from across the water. The lake itself tossed silvery wavelets and snowy white caps across its surface. Closer, Cassie caught sight of a streak of blue, followed by the rasping call of the blue jay. Wet and warm earth smelled of growing things. Small yellow flowers mixed with indigo blue blooms. They fought their way through the undergrowth at the edge of the woods. Everything evoked peace and solitude, just what Cassie wanted. At least that had been her intention, now restlessness taunted her aching muscles. She turned to the dark doorway. Maybe that's what bothered her, the illusion of walking into darkness. She'd certainly had enough of shadows lately. With a firm grip on her emotions and her suitcase she entered the cabin. It was rustic, even primitive, but clean, Cassie noted. She pulled back the heavy drapes covering the two large windows in what must be the living area. The intrusion of sunlight cast away the last of the shadows. Now it was homey, not depressing, not so primitive, either. She found her way to the tiny kitchen where she found the refrigerator humming. The bathroom was tinier than the kitchen, but when she tried the water spigots, the water became hot. Fatigue pressed at her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept well. Rather, she didn't want to remember. That sleep had been induced by Maigret's infusion. Since then, her slumber had been filled with nightmares. The shabby couch invited her. She sat down and enjoyed the warmth of the sun as it poured through the west facing windows. A pine scented breeze wandered through the screen door. Maybe in this tranquil setting, amid new sights and sounds and smells, she'd find an answer, a reason to go on. A lonely cry echoed across the lake, a loon calling its mate. The sound tugged at Cassie's heartstrings. She wept.

At first all Reid knew was floating. It was the strangest sensation because he knew he wasn't on water. He wasn't wet. How could he float on air unless he'd suddenly learned how to defy the laws of gravity? He realized he didn't care how or why. It was peaceful here, no cares or cold nagging worries interfered with serenity. After a while a sense of loss touched him. Urgency grew in him to leave this place of warmth and peace. It was, after all, only a waiting room of sorts. The idea came into his mind that he wasn't ready to go beyond this waiting room yet. It wasn't his time. There was something more he needed to accomplish; someone who needed him and who would in turn complete him. Restless, yet fully mindful of what he turned his back on, Reid closed his eyes to the light. The quality of light coming through his closed eyelids changed. Instead of clear, pure and purposeful, it was now yellow and utilitarian. He opened his eyes to flames. Lit candles of rainbow hues surrounded him. He lay on a soft surface. A pure white coverlet shrouded him from his feet to his neck, cradling him in warmth. "Ah, you've come back to us, finally." From the corner of his range of vision, an older woman appeared. She smiled at him and said a few words that he couldn't understand. "Where am I?" His first words emerged in a whisper. "A place where you can heal," the woman answered. She offered him a spoonful of something hot. He tasted it, delicious, and swallowed. Warm drowsiness suffused him. It reminded him of that place where he'd waited, except this was more -- earthy, homely, real. He slipped into sleep. Aunt Zoe touched Reid's pale forehead and closed her eyes in concentration. "He doesn't remember, does he?" Maigret said from behind the bed. "No," Aunt Zoe said. "But he will, my dear. Come along. He's out of danger now. Let's let him rest." Maigret followed Aunt Zoe from the room. They followed the winding stairway down from the attic into the cozy kitchen on the ground floor. Maigret sat in a hard wooden chair and confronted her Aunt. "We should have told Cassie that he wasn't dead." "Darling, we've argued the point over and over. It was for her own good. We weren't sure until yesterday that he would truly choose to come back. Even with mine and Chad's telepathic skills, and your own prognostication ability, Reid's choice and his future were uncertain." Aunt Zoe put a kettle of water to heat on the stove. "She's going to be furious when she finds out." Maigret reached for a chocolate chip cookie. "Before that happens Reid must regain his memory and want her to find out. If he never remembers her, won't that hurt more? She'd feel like she lost him twice." "I know. I know. 'As fate decrees, so will it be,'" Maigret quoted. "Sometimes I wish I weren't so

empathic. Her pain reaches me even from this distance." "You took a long time accepting your gift, child. Now is not the time to turn your back on it." "I wouldn't. Though between Cassie's mental anguish and knowing that more is on the way, I often wonder how I can help." Chad walked in from outside and shook the raindrops from his umbrella. He entered the conversation as if he'd heard every word, which was quite possible considering his powers, Maigret thought. "He'll probably have an official identity before he remembers who he is," Chad said, his voice smug with satisfaction. "It's nice having contacts in government. Who was it this time? That cute secretary in the Senator's office, or the assistant to the Chief of Staff?" "None of your business," Chad retorted. He helped himself to a handful of cookies. "That's enough sparring, children." Aunt Zoe came to the table with the teapot and poured them each a steaming mug. "We'll need all of our energy for the days ahead." A far off expression took over her face. Her voice deepened as she intoned, "In the end, twill be done. Yet more tears will be shed before two become one."

Chapter Sixteen

"My head feels full of cotton batting. My legs are as wobbly as a newborn lamb's," Reid grumbled. He grabbed the post at the head of the bed and pulled himself to standing. "You've been ill," the pretty redhead said. Her name was Maigret. She spoke to him as if speaking to a recalcitrant child. He didn't like it. "So you've been saying ever since I woke up. When are you going to tell me the truth?" Maigret placed her cool palm against his cheek. She shook her head. "When you're strong enough, of course." "Damn. If I could I'd walk out of here and find my own answers." "We don't keep you here against your will. Nor do we lock you in at night. Patience is a hard master, Reid." He walked, stiff-legged, to the rocking chair placed by the window. Though Maigret left the room, her words lingered in the air.

She was right. They didn't lock him in. He just couldn't figure out why their kindness grated on him so. Maybe if he could just remember -- anything. They'd called him Reid; that felt right anyway. But they refused to tell him anymore than that. Whenever he pressed them for answers, they spouted some vague poetic nonsense and fixed him more food. The headache was back. It always accompanied the dream. These days and nights dreams coursed through his sleep in a never-ending stream of sights and sounds. He was exhausted by the time he awoke, yet he looked forward to returning to the land occupied by the dreams. A woman waited for him there. The past and all it implied, its key was in the dreams too. If only he could will them to show him what he needed to know. The ache wasn't only in his head. His heart ached with the knowledge of loss, and he couldn't even remember the nature of what or who was lost. Damnation. And these Penwarrens were a strange lot. They cared for him either out of obligation or as if he were family. Who or what were they to him? He had more questions than answers. They answered nothing directly. He regained physical strength daily. The first time he'd tried to get out of bed, his legs had given out beneath him and his arms had been unable to help either. He'd fallen rather dramatically on his buttocks. By the time he had managed to crawl back onto the bed, he was sweating and shaking with the effort. Now, a seven-day later, he could walk, or shuffle from his bed to this chair by the window, which overlooked the quiet street below. He glanced out. As usual, there wasn?t much in the way of movement down there. From his limited experience, the house was situated well out of what ever town or city was nearby ? Secluded, peaceful, private -- just the place to convalesce. Reid clenched his hands in restless irritation. Whoever he was, whatever he'd done with his life up to this point, he was pretty sure sitting around aimlessly and allowing others to wait on him was a rare occurrence. He knew within that he was a man who rarely waited for life to come to him. He reached out and took it. The leafy tree directly outside swayed as a breeze blew by. A fragment of memory came to Reid. Leaves of the same shape and size blew about him on the ground. The wind was cold and the leaves were a riot of reds, oranges, and golds. Maple. Yes, this was a maple tree. The memory flew away, but the knowledge remained. A small bit of memory, true, but a start. Reid opened the window further, trying to see more than what was immediately visible, hoping his recalcitrant mind would cooperate for a while longer. The wooden frame stuck, but he could see past the corner of the house. A portion of a gravel drive was within his view. A shiny gray vehicle of some type turned into it. "Automobile," Reid tried the word out loud. Yes, another image came to light. To his wonder, it included that of the woman from his dreams. She smiled at him as she split her attention between him and the road ahead. Her dark hair blew in waves around her face, her eyes twinkled with goodwill. Her name was -"Damnation." The harder he tried to focus on this woman, the more painful his headache became. He was rubbing his forehead when he heard the footsteps approach his room. He answered the knock on the door. "Come in."

Chad entered. He carried several small items in his hands, and left the door open, a first. "I've managed to get my hands on some identification for you. You'll need these when you feel ready to leave." "So, you plan on allowing that someday?" Chad grinned. "Sure, once you start eating more than Aunt Zoe can reasonably fix and carry up the stairs. Here." He handed Reid a small leather folder. "This is -- a billfold?" Reid guessed. He opened it and explored the hidden pockets within. His own picture, on a small rectangle, stared out at him. "Your drivers license," Chad informed him as he sat in the straight-backed chair next to Reid. "The most useful form of identification in this country." "Useful if you know how to drive." Chad laughed easily. "I'll teach you the ropes. I think you'll enjoy it." "What are these?" Reid held out several more small, hard rectangles. Each had a series of raised numbers across its surface along with his imprinted name. "Credit cards. You use them like money and pay the bill each month." "What if I don't pay the bill?" "Interest is added to the account." "Wouldn't it be easier to simply pay for goods or services when needed? This seems like a trick to make people want more than they can afford. Then they have to pay usurious interest rates." The idea of owing an institution, not an individual that he knew, appalled Reid. "People in this day and age want to be able to have something immediately. It's called instant gratification. If you're smart, you'll use these just for emergencies, never for more than you can pay back at once." Reid nodded, understanding the convenience, though he deplored the principle. Chad held up a large envelope. "Since you're feeling better, we thought it was time you knew more about yourself, a little at a time, so as not to shock your system with too much at once. I'll leave you a little reading material, then let you get some rest." "Wait." Reid hesitated at Chad's expectant look, then plunged on. "I've started to remember." Chad sat back down and stared at Reid. "What kind of things?" "Nothing of importance, really. I now know that this tree is a maple. That silvery vehicle is an automobile." "Anything else?" Chad sat on the edge of his seat, clearly tense and trying not to show it. "No." Reid was unwilling to share the image of the woman, or the dreams that plagued him.

"Oh." Chad's voice echoed disappointment, then brightened. "Aunt Zoe may be able to help you focus these memories. She has a way with herbs and meditation." "I'll think about it. Thanks." Reid looked down at the envelope that rested on his lap. "Don't over-do worrying about it, Reid. I'm sure it will all come back." Chad left. "Sure it will," Reid muttered. He let the envelope lie where it was, uncertain he wanted to know what it held. What if it showed he was a felon? Impossible. The Penwarrens treated him better than a guest, not an escaped criminal. Perhaps it showed he had a hefty balance in some banking institution. Then he'd be able to pay back these people. Being dependent on them grated on his pride. He stared at the envelope for some minutes more before opening it. The contents surprised him. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but a copy of his birth certificate and several degrees in engineering and architecture didn't fit. According to his birth certificate, he was thirty-five years old. His mother's name was Barbara and his father, John. The place of birth listed a hospital in Alexandria. Suddenly he wondered if his parents were looking for him or if he had other family who was frantically searching for him. My god, at five and thirty he could easily have a wife and several children. Were they wondering where their father, and husband, had gone? Wondering if he had deserted them? Sweat broke out on his forehead. At all costs, he must know more about his past. A grim sense of purpose filled him as he pushed out of the chair and took his first trip down the long flight of stairs.

Cassie woke up weeping every morning that first week in Maine. Her dreams wouldn't let her rest. Each night after finally succumbing to exhaustion, her mind replayed the events that led her to Reid, and ultimately took her from him. She tried vigorous exercise and spent hours cleaning the small cottage and caring for the lawn. The lake water was cold, even on the warmest of days, yet she swam daily until her muscles ached. By the time evening rolled around, she sank into one of the Adirondack chairs situated on the lawn overlooking the lake and prayed that this night she would sleep, dreamless at last. Nothing helped. The second week she tried reading anything and everything that came to hand. She haunted the public library and the one second hand book store in town for anything that would keep her mind from Reid. Her English literature professors at University would have been proud of the list of classics she plowed through. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton all got a thorough read. She tried one or two more contemporary authors, but the romances she'd always loved now brought anger because she knew the feelings the characters experienced, and she'd lost her source. Mysteries were a little better, unless they involved a great deal of blood. After a while, she turned to non-fiction. History was her business, American history anyway, so she shunned it. Instead, she delved into such diverse areas as architecture and biology. Even memorizing the Periodic Table of Elements one morning at three couldn't send her into a dreamless sleep.

She contemplated suicide. The last tenant had left a bottle of cheap Scotch in the back of a cupboard in the kitchen. Not enough to kill her, but maybe with some sleeping pills. She actually had the bottle in her hands, wondering if any doctor in town would prescribe what she needed, when a knock sounded at the door. "Cassie, are you awake?" It was Amelia Copeland, half of the couple who owned the property. Cassie replaced the liquor and answered the door. "You have a telephone call up at the house. Come and take it. It's your mother. When you're done, have breakfast with us." "I don't like to impose, Amelia," Cassie said as she accompanied the older woman along the path. It was a cloudy morning. The path was slick with mud from the previous night's rain. "I've never had a guest who imposed less than you. If I didn't notice a light on at odd hours of the night, I'd think the place was deserted." "I like to read late at night," Cassie murmured. "When I can't sleep, I walk in the woods," Amelia said. "You don't sleep well, why?" Cassie blurted out. Then was immediately ashamed of her prying. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me." "Don't be. It's a very natural question." Amelia pushed a pine bough, heavy with water, away from her face and held it for Cassie. Cassie saw a haunted look in Amelia's face and wished she'd kept her mouth shut. This woman didn't need prying into her private life. Her husband, Justin, was so protective of Amelia. He wouldn't appreciate knowing Cassie had put that look on his wife's face. "We had a son," Amelia finally said, her back turned to Cassie. "He drowned in the lake when he was only two." "Amelia." Cassie was horrified. To lose a lover was one thing, but to lose a child, unbearable. "It was years ago, but we've never been able to conceive another. Sometimes I still dream about that day, and him. Those are the nights I get restless and wander. Justin pretends not to notice, but he always finds a way to be sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea, waiting for me when I return." "He loves you a great deal." "Yes." They reached the flagstones that led to the house. "Go ahead in. You know where the phone is. I'll be there shortly." Amelia wandered to the shore. Cassie watched her, stunned by the rush of sympathy for the woman. Justin came to the screen door and called out to her.

"I'm coming, Justin. Amelia said to tell you she'll be in soon." She went onto the screened in porch and on through to the small sitting room. A telephone, its black handset laying beside it, awaited her. "Hello." "Cassandra, I'm so happy to hear your voice. Are you all right?" Constance's words rushed out. "Gee Mom, that's what you say every time you call. Of course I'm all right. Have you been communing with that crystal ball again?" Cassie was happy to hear her mother's normal voice making normal motherly sounds. "I thought you'd stopped making fun of my interests," Constance said. Cassie visualized her mother's pout over the miles. "Sorry Mom, old habit. How's things with you?" Cassie strove to put a bit of vivacity into her own voice, but was afraid it merely came out breathless. "I'm fine. You sound tired, Cassandra. Are you sleeping?" That old maternal intuition caught her every time. Cassie lied baldly. "I sleep like a stone here. The fresh air and sunshine put me to bed early every night." "I'm relieved, dear. Maigret says --" "I don't want to hear what Maigret has to say," Cassie snapped. "Don't interrupt, dear," Constance continued, unperturbed by Cassie's rudeness. "She said you would not want to hear from her while you are healing. But I thought you might like to know that she resigned from the board at Eagle's Aerie." Cassie went cold then hot at the mention of the estate. Hearing those words were enough to bring back slivers of haunting memory. If she didn't do something to stop her sudden trembling, she'd burst into tears, or have a tantrum, or both right here in the Copeland's living room. "Mother, I must get off the phone now. Amelia needs to use it," she lied again. Amelia came in from the porch and caught her fibbing. "Bye now." Cassie hung up without waiting for her mother to respond. Justin followed Amelia into the room. Cassie closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before her limbs stopped shaking and she could be assured of walking out of the house without stumbling. "Thank you for the use of your telephone. Please excuse me." Justin and Amelia shared a look, then Justin said, "You can't leave without a cup of hot coffee. It's as cold as October out there. Come into the kitchen. I baked a blueberry coffee cake this morning. Just took it out of the oven." "No, really. I can't stay." Cassie struggled to keep her voice from melting away. Amelia came to her and pulled her into the warm kitchen. Cassie had been in it before and knew it was painted a sunny yellow with light blue accents. A wood stove sat in one corner, sending out a welcoming wave of heat. The Copeland's tabby cat, Big Boy, occupied a brightly colored braided rug in front of the

stove. Normally, these surrounding brightened Cassie's day. This morning she didn't notice, not even when Big Boy deigned to jump into her lap. She couldn't swallow her coffee. The coffee cake stuck in her throat like hay. Her resolve broke when Amelia said gently, "Please tell us why you're so unhappy, Cassie." And she did, well not everything, not about the ghosts and haunting dreams that had led her to Reid. But she told them how she'd met her soul-mate and then watched him die, unable to help him. Justin nodded and re-filled her cup, which she only now noticed that she'd emptied. "I won't try to tell you that time will make you feel better. You won't believe me and I'm not sure it's true for everyone." "That's right." Amelia took one of Cassie's hands in her own. It was the first time someone had touched her since she'd left her mother's house. "Time will make the ache lessen somewhat. The void will get smaller if you let it." "I'm sorry. I've made such a fool of myself." Cassie stood to leave. She felt unaccountably lighter for telling her story, though she hated to see any pity in her friend's eyes. "You're no fool, Cassie. Just a woman in pain. The coffee pot's always on, anytime." "Thanks Justin, Amelia. See you later." She returned to her cottage. Lonely, yet not feeling quite so alone. The confession brought catharsis in the shape of dreamless sleep. Cassie awoke in the early morning hours refreshed and rested for the first time in days. She made a pot of coffee and took it outside with her. Fog enshrouded the lake. The pewter color reminded her of Reid's eyes, but with wistful sadness rather than the gut-wrenching despair she'd known. The sun rose over the world. It transformed the fog into a curtain of pearly white, then caught it up in silver as the first breeze across the lake tossed it away. For hours, Cassie watched the lake and the people on it. She drank her coffee and reflected on love and loss and grief. As if for the first time, she saw the sparkling water surrounded by green hills and blue sky. The natural beauty and rhythm of this place soothed her sore, aching heart. Finally Cassie touched upon the love she and Reid had made under a velvet night sky. Her hand went to her belly, a protective movement. Her monthly cycle, usually regular as the phases of the moon, was late. After allowing herself to grieve fully, she could now allow herself to anticipate the unexpected gift Reid had left her with. His child. The sun was high in the sky when Cassie heard soft footsteps approaching. The lush grass muffled the movements. Cassie was loath to turn around. Amelia's voice was no surprise. "You look rested. Have a good night sleep?" Amelia sat on the sun-warmed grass next to Cassie's chair. "Yes." Their shared grief, Cassie's over Reid and Amelia's over her son, bound them. "Thanks for listening yesterday morning. It was the first time I'd talked about it. You and Justin have been very kind to a stranger who was thrust upon you." "Not at all. Fred is like family to Justin and me. He highly recommended you. I hope we can be friends."

Cassie wanted to give some comfort back to Amelia. How could she explain the circumstances surrounding Reid's life and death without sounding like a complete crackpot? She'd seen both Elizabeth and Hunter's family as angels. More, she'd felt the celestial glow from the portal Reid crossed over. Heaven, a different dimension, a higher plane of consciousness -- she didn't know what to call what awaited them at the end of this life's journey. What she did know, and wanted to share with Amelia, was that death was not an end. It was a door to another place. Maybe she was wrong to bring up the subject, especially now, when she thought she might be pregnant. Was she being selfish or simply obtuse? Take it one thing at a time, she decided. "I think I'm pregnant," she told Amelia. Amelia stared out at the flashing waves. Cassie saw her swallow and hoped she hadn't dashed their newfound friendship against emotional rocks as hard as the granite boulders strewn about the lake shore. "What will you do?" Amelia finally asked, her voice steady. "I'm going to have a baby." Cassie smiled as the words made the small life inside her a reality. "Then you have a lot to do." Amelia returned Cassie's smile. "When you're ready, I have a wonderful obstetrician." "Not quite yet. For a while, I'd like to hold this close to my heart. Once I see a doctor, it will be like the world knows my secret. Let's keep it between you, me, and Justin for now." "What about your mother and Fred?" "Not yet," Cassie reiterated.

The month of July flew by. Cassie spent a great deal of time by herself, yet it was no longer spent in angry brooding about terrible twists of fate. The anticipation of the child rewarded her like a semi-sweet frosting. By the end of August Cassie realized that she needed to come to some decision soon. Labor Day weekend marked the unofficial end of the summer season. Already the days were growing shorter. Nippy nights heralded the coming of autumn. When Cassie joined Amelia and Justin on the front lawn one evening, as had become their custom, all three wore slacks and light jackets. The evening breeze had chilled to something more than refreshing of late. "We're pulling the boats and floating dock out of the water next week, Cassie. Have you decided what you'll do over the winter months?" Justin asked. They always closed up the cottage at the lake over the long, frigid Maine winter. They lived in Bangor those months of the year. Cassie sipped her hot chocolate. She'd been making plans for this conversation for some time now. If

luck ran her way, Justin and Amelia would go along. "I'm transferring my graduate studies to the University in Bangor," she told them. "Then we can see you over the winter," Amelia exclaimed with a smile. "Actually, I was hoping for a favor," Cassie said slowly. They looked at her with expectant faces. "I was wondering if I could stay here." "Here?" Amelia frowned. "Why?" "Mostly because I like it. I've found a measure of peace here and I'd like to stay. I'd pay rent, naturally." "It's very isolated during the winter months, Cassie. You've got a baby on the way," Justin said. "I don't mind isolation, and it's not a bad commute to the school." "The house is well winterized," Amelia said to Justin. "Having someone stay might mean less burglary." "Are you sure you want her to be a target for a burglar?" Justin demanded. "Of course not. Don't you remember what the sheriff told us? That the places that have someone staying in them, even part time, are less likely to be bothered. She'd be fine." Jumping in where Amelia left off, Cassie said, "I'd be pleased to do this for you. It would be to both of our advantage. As for the baby, I'm not due until March. There's the telephone if I need anything." She sensed Justin wavering. "You promise to call us at a moment's notice?" he asked. "Thanks Justin, Amelia. It will work out great." Cassie hugged them both, relieved that this decision had been taken care of. Now to tell her mother. Constance would prove more difficult to persuade. "There's just one thing," Justin amended. "Oh?" "If you'll be staying here, don't worry about rent. Take care of your own utility bills and we'll call it even. It will take my mind off worrying about the house." "It's a deal," Cassie said. They shook hands all around and toasted the bargain with their hot chocolate mugs.

"What do you mean Maigret is coming to see me?" Cassie spoke to her mother over the telephone. She hadn't gotten around to telling Constance her own plans as yet. This news floored her. "Yes, dear. Maigret says it's time to come to terms with your Karma, or fate, or what was it my crystal said? Ah yes, your destiny." "Great, here I think I've finally come to terms with it all by myself and Maigret has to come remind me of

it." "It's a long trip, Cassandra. Everything that happened earlier this summer was not her fault. I don't understand all the details, but I do know that you had some part in it. Don't misunderstand, you are not responsible in any way for Reid's death, but neither is Maigret. Fate and the great cycle of life have a way of evening things out." "Mother." Cassie's voice cracked at her mother's matter-of-fact statement. She'd managed not to dwell on her loss for weeks. Hearing her mother speak of it so lightly caused a momentary crack in her self-control. "I'm sorry dear. That was cruel of me." She changed the subject. "Now, what was this news you called to share with me?" "I'm staying in Maine over the winter." Cassie braced for her mother's argument. She didn't have long to wait. "That's ridiculous, impossible. Where will you stay? What will you do?" Cassie told her mother her plans as calmly as possible. The Copelands had left earlier that week and she was all moved in to the bigger house. She had no intention of budging. The fact that she was carrying Constance's first grandchild was not mentioned. Constance finally ran out of arguments, or she realized Cassie had her mind made up. Her last shot was, "Perhaps Maigret can persuade you to change your mind. She's very clever that way. Give her my love when you see her." When Cassie placed the handset back into its cradle, she sighed. She had to tell her mother about the baby sometime, but she just couldn't handle that conversation on top of the one she'd just finished. A frown creased her forehead. Maigret. She wasn't angry with Maigret. She just wasn't ready to be reminded so acutely of the events surrounding Reid and Hunter and life and death and that limbo of in between. Maigret had been a true friend. Cassie was sorry if her continued refusal to take Maigret's phone calls or to reply to her letters hurt her. She just couldn't bear breaking the peace she was beginning to find by rehashing something that couldn't be changed. Reid was dead. He wasn't coming back this time. No duels, or ghosts, or witch's spells would change that fact. Her love for him would live in their child. That would warm her over the winter months and help hold the inevitable despondency at bay. She loved him, but he was gone. Life went on. As she rose to make herself a cup of hot tea, a knock sounded on the door. She opened it to a ghost.

Chapter Seventeen

Before she slammed the door on the vision of her dead lover, Cassie had enough presence of mind to recognize the shock on his face. "I'm hallucinating. I'm going insane." She sank against the door, her back to the solid wood. "The loneliness has finally taken its toll. Mother said it would. She warned me, but I wouldn't listen." Loud pounding reverberated through the door, through her. Surely a ghost couldn't put so much power into a spiritual fist, Cassie tried to reason. Of course, it must have been someone who only resembled Reid. That had to be it. The only logical explanation, of course. Whoever it was no doubt wondered what was wrong with the Copeland's winter boarder. On legs that trembled, Cassie stood and reached for the doorknob. Her fingers twitched away. She couldn't make them obey her. Knocking again, this time neither hard nor loud. A faint voice feathered around the cracks in the lintel. "Okay, it's a woman this time. Surely you can open the door for a woman," Cassie told herself. She couldn't make herself do it. Instead she called herself all kinds of varieties of coward and retreated into the kitchen, fervently hoping that whoever was on the other side of the door would just go away.

"I told you to let me talk to her first," Maigret hissed at Reid when Cassie slammed the door in his face. "Your sudden reappearance shocked her." "She recognized me," Reid said. His thoughts swirled at the possibility. This mystery woman, who Maigret insisted he must meet, was the woman from his continuing dreams. He hadn't told Maigret or her family about the dreams. They were too personal, too intimate to share. Some of them were down right sensual, especially when the woman on the other side of this heavy door appeared in them. He had to speak to her. He pounded on the door with vigor born of determination. "I told you she knew you," Maigret said. She put a cautioning hand on his and kept him from making any more noise. With a light touch, Maigret stroked the doorknob. A faint blue light appeared where her fingers traced. "I don't believe she is able to open the door herself. It will be better if she does," Maigret said quietly. "One more try." Maigret knocked lightly and called out, "Cassie, open the door." Reid sensed movement behind the door and braced himself for another glimpse of this "Cassie." Instead of opening the door, he sensed her moving away. "I guess we'll have to do this the hard way," he said and prepared to force the door open. "Never mind," Maigret said. Again she touched the doorknob. This time it turned. The door opened inward. The room was empty except for comfortable, overstuffed furniture. One reading lamp, to the side of an armchair, had been left on. Reid picked up a mug, still warm from the tea it held. Cassie was close by. But it seemed she'd run -- from him. Was he so frightening? Or had Maigret kept something about his

past secret from him? The latter was the most likely answer, he thought grimly. These Penwarrens were masters of giving just so much information, and not so much as an intimation of more. His basic background, birth date, full name, lineage, education were all his now. The frustrating part was that he had no recollection of any of it besides what the Penwarren's vast network of informants provided. As for his recent history, he hadn't a clue. Much of the scenery around the Penwarren home looked familiar, but skewed somehow. As if seen through a broken mirror. From his dreams, he knew this Cassie was important to him. In what respect? Friend, lover, enemy? No, not enemy. Maigret stopped in the center of the small room as if searching for a clue as to where the former occupant had escaped. From the outside it hadn't appeared to be a large house. Cassie had to be nearby. If Maigret wasn't going to find her, Reid would. Maigret's eyes were closed in deep concentration. Reid stepped around her. In the days he'd spent with them, Reid had noticed that all the Penwarrens meditated often. They had a spiritual side, which he thought he should understand, but couldn't remember why. The room beyond the living room was dark. Reid smelled her before he saw her, caught in the slight glimmer of light coming through the edges of the drawn window shade. Her familiar scent, delicate and sensuous, called up images of naked bodies writhing against each other in passion. Reid tamped down his arousal. Cassie sat unmoving on a chair. He wondered if her eyes were closed -trying to ignore his presence. The light from the other room would outline him in the doorway. She had to see him enter the room. "Cassie." He kept his voice soft, gentle. Instinct told him that her fear was real. He could almost touch it. His fingers brushed the wall and found a light switch. Bright florescent lights flickered to life, illuminating the woman who remained motionless. No, her eyes were not closed. They stared at him, wide in a pale face. She looked ready to faint. "Who are you?" Cassie whispered. Disappointment flooded Reid. He gripped the door frame in white-knuckled frustration. He'd been so sure she had recognized him. She was supposed to be an important link to his past. Her words dashed his hopes. "They tell me I'm Reid Phillips." The words came out clipped, sharp. If possible, Cassie's face grew whiter. "That's impossible." She blinked several times. "Reid is dead. I watched him die." "I don't know who you saw die, but I am clearly very much alive." "No." A trace of sickly amusement fleeted across Cassie's features. "Not necessarily alive."

"You're talking in riddles. Maigret brought me here, thinking that you knew me perhaps. It seems she was mistaken. We will depart immediately." He turned to leave. He had to get out before he grabbed this woman and forced her to tell him what he needed to know. Her fragility slowed his steps. "Wait," Cassie said. "You said Maigret brought you here?" He turned to face her again. A flicker of hope grew inside him as he watched astonishment fight with disbelief on her mobile features. She'd never make a good poker player, he mused as he watched her. Then he started as he realized he'd thought that very thing about her -- before. Before what? "That's right. I've been staying with Maigret, her brother Chad, and their Aunt Zoe." "Why?" Her simple question was the same one he'd asked himself over and over during his convalescence from whatever had taken his memories. He was tired. "May I sit down?" He pulled a chair out from under the table in anticipation. "No." Her answer surprised him. "Not in here. It's too -- close. You are too close. Come with me." She rose and slowly walked toward him, hesitating where she would have had to brush by him to walk through the doorway. Her hair has grown, an inner whisper told him. How could he know that? Her dark eyes shone with reflected light as she looked up at him. Her lips trembled. She put a hand out to touch him, but pulled it back before making contact. "Please -- please step aside," she whispered. Maigret was nowhere to be seen as Reid followed Cassie through the living room and onto a sun porch. The moon had risen enough to send streamers of faint, silver light through the glass windows. Reid imagined the large room was very pleasant to sit in on a warm summer day and watch the lake. Now, it was too big. Especially when Cassie motioned for him to sit on the cushion-strewn wicker couch, and she took a rocking chair half the length of the room away from him. Cassie's discomfort decreased only slightly with distance from Reid. It was Reid. She couldn't be sure how, but it was. Part of her rejoiced, another part held itself in check. He didn't know her, said he'd lost his memory. The realization devastated her. How could the time they'd spent together, the love they'd shared, the fight for life and soul be forgotten? Worse, what if he never remembered their love? Her hand crept protectively to her womb. The child would remain her secret. She couldn't force a family on her beloved if he didn't remember the actions and emotions that had created it in the first place. The shock of seeing him after believing him dead held her. She wasn't numb. Quite the opposite. She struggled to control her emotions and come to grips with this new reality. He sat, right over there, in the semi-darkness. If she wished, she could walk over and touch him. Again, she resisted the temptation. She'd recognized anguish mixed with hope in his eyes when she passed him at the door. If they were to be together, they had a few more hurdles to leap. First, she needed to know what had happened since she'd last seen him. "You say you've lost your memory," Cassie said after the silence between them had grown

uncomfortably long. "Do you know how?" Reid shook his head, his movements faint but recognizable in the dim light. "Maigret and her family think I should figure it out for myself." "Do you remember anything?" Do you remember me? "Little things keep coming back to me. The names of trees and flowers, for example." His voice was tight, reined in perhaps. "Events? People?" Reid stood and came towards her. He knelt in front of her chair and took her by the shoulders before she had a chance to move away. "I dream about you." His voice was fierce and low. "Why do I dream about you, dammit? I never knew you existed until today when Maigret dragged me here." Cassie gasped at the longing in his words. The touch of his hands on her brought back vivid memories. What reason could the Penwarrens have for not telling him what had happened? "What do you dream about me?" Did he remember the blood and death, or the love? He loosened his grasp but stayed in front of her, preventing her from leaving. "You smile. You drive an automobile. Once you wept in my dream and I wanted to comfort you." The words came out stilted, pulled from deep inside him. Now Cassie did touch him. She couldn't help herself from reaching out and caressing his face anymore than she could stop breathing. The day's growth of beard rasped cross her fingertips. His eyebrows felt of silk. Lines crossed his forehead which she didn't remember from before. She traced their path, ran a finger across his hairline. The ache inside her eased a fraction. He wasn't dead. Neither did he remember what they had been to each other. Should she just blurt it out or help him rediscover, slowly? "I did know you before you lost your memory," she admitted. "In what capacity?" His eyes darkened the way she remembered, with interest and awakening desire. She shook her head. "It's not as simple as telling you. But I will try and help you remember -- if that's what you want." "Nobody wants to tell me anything," Reid said. Cassie found grim amusement in his frustration. She'd learned to work with the Penwarrens, found their advice to be difficult to follow, but ultimately sound. Her Reid, the one she knew, understood that even better than she did. This man would understand, in time. She wondered how much time he'd give her to unlock the door to his memory. "Maigret can give us an idea of where to start," Cassie said. She started to rise from her chair. Reid remained in front of her. He rose from his knees as she stood. A ribbon of air separated them from each other. Anticipation and desire, fear and longing charged that tiny separation. She recognized the need in

his eyes. Not just the need to know, but also a hunger she wasn't sure he'd accept. His hands moved from where they'd gripped her shoulder. He cupped her face, rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks. Cassie's eyes filled with tears. Her mouth trembled with want ?. Want for him to know her in every sense ?. Want for him to remember all they had been for each other ?. Want for him to receive the knowledge of their child she carried and to rejoice with her in it. Want -- she wanted it all. But like his desire to remember, she had to win his love all over again. A daunting task, perhaps made more difficult because of what she knew of him, his basic nature. He tilted his head down. Cassie knew the kiss would devastate her last defenses, so fragile already. She couldn't afford it. At the last moment, she turned her face. His lips feathered across her cheek. Heat followed in their wake. Cassie wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms and tell him everything. Instead, she found the strength to gently disengage and move away. He didn't follow her this time. It didn't matter. A short search of the house showed that Maigret had vanished. Well, not vanished exactly. She'd taken the car and left Reid without transportation back to town. It seemed the witch had advised them on their course of action without their knowledge or acceptance. "Typical," Cassie remarked to the empty room. Reid came in from the porch. She saw no emotion reflected on his face, only exhaustion. "I take it she's gone," Reid said. "You don't seem surprised." Cassie began pulling sheets, blankets and pillows from a closet. "Nothing she or her family do can surprise me anymore." He took note of her now full arms. "I'll walk back to town. Can't be more than a couple of miles." "That's completely out of the question. You're exhausted. What's more, so am I. I will not sleep wondering if you found a motel without getting lost on the way. In case you hadn't noticed, we're a little bit in the back of beyond here. There aren't even streetlights this far from town." "I wouldn't want my presence here to damage your reputation," Reid said stiffly. "My reputation is my affair," Cassie retorted. "There's a guest cottage. It's not very fancy, but it's clean. I know, I stayed there until recently." Reid turned, considering the option. Cassie knew he was struggling with all the implications of being so close to her. Indeed, she wondered how long they could keep this emotional and physical distance between them. At least in the cottage he'd be partially removed, yet close enough for reassurance. Reassurance, that wasn?t what she wanted. She wanted him. She wanted to revel in the warm living warmth and scent of him, to remind herself that a miracle had happened. He'd come back to her. "Just for tonight," Reid agreed. He took the bedding from her arms.

"I'll light the way for you." Cassie grabbed the flashlight that hung beside the door and switched it on. A chill wind blew off the lake. It twitched and blew the tree branches. They rustled, an intimate sound. Dark clouds scudded across the face of the moon. A storm was moving in. By morning the lake would be dark, ruffled with the movement of the water and the air. A drop of rain touched Cassie's cheek as she reached the cabin. She opened the door and flipped the light switch. Reid filled up the small room when he moved in beside her. "The sofa folds out to a bed," she said, needing to talk and move around to dispel the charged atmosphere Reid's presence created around her. He nodded and began to spread the sheets on the bed. Cassie watched him for a moment, enjoying his lithe movements, the way his muscles moved under the denim shirt he wore. She'd never seen him in jeans before. These were worn and fit him like a second skin. Her mouth went dry as she remembered the feel of his skin beneath the cloth, how it responded to her touch, her kiss. She had to get out of here. Now. Before she made a fool of herself. "Thank you, Cassandra." His words, spoken with remembered gentle courtesy, stopped her. Her knees buckled. The only thing that kept her upright was the tight grip she had on the door frame -- That and her pride. "Sleep well," she said, and managed to walk into the night. Where the path turned out of sight of the cottage door, Cassie sat down. The ground was damp. The sky spit rain. The breeze had turned into a devil wind. She hugged her knees around her and thanked God for Reid's return, and alternately cursed the twist of fate that brought him here now ?. Now, when she was regaining some precious balance in her life. His unexpected arrival blew to Hell and back all her carefully thought out plans for hers and her baby's future. As she sat there, not minding the discomfort, not wanting to be any further away from Reid than she had to, in spite of her convictions to the contrary, she considered Maigret's role in this. They had known all along, the Penwarrens, and hadn't told her. Anger stirred her blood, warming her. Why? What perversity in their natures had kept them from revealing the truth to her? Certainly Maigret's vaunted empathy, her special powers, could read Cassie's grief and pain. Maigret had much to answer for. The dim light from the open cabin door was visible around the curve in the path. Reid, her Reid, was in there. Yet, was he her Reid? From the moment she had seen him on her doorstep she'd wanted to believe, feared to believe, that he'd returned from the dead. Her eyes misted again. This time she allowed the tears, which had threatened for hours, to fall. He's alive, she thought over and over. Hugging her knees to her chest, she rocked back and forth, sending up a prayer of thanks. Somehow, she'd find a way to help him remember. Until then, she'd be his

friend. By the time the light winked out, mist and cold had turned Cassie into a shivering shadow. Leaving this rock, an outpost on the brink between past and present, emptiness and completeness, took more will than she had thought she possessed. Would he be there in the morning or was this a hallucination? Pulling all her self-control about her, Cassie made her way back to the house. The house that had been filled with the warmth of friendship, now surrounded her with an atmosphere of waiting. In the kitchen, Cassie put on the kettle and made a pot of chamomile tea. She knew its familiar, quieting qualities wouldn't relax her tonight, but she needed to hold something warm and solid. Her eyelids blinked on the grit brought about by tears. Trembling hands held the honey pot and carried the tray into the living room. Cassie sat, with her tea and memories, to wait through the long hours until the sun came up. Only then would she venture back to the cottage to see if he was real or a dream. He'd been a dream before. It seemed ages ago when he'd first come to her in a dream. The tea warmed her as the wind ahead of the autumn storm howled around the house.

Reid lay in bed listening to the storm blow in from the northeast. Though exhaustion had him on his back, sleep was far from claiming him. Cassie. Cassandra. His dream had a name now. Her name conjured unbidden, vague memories of courage tinged with fear and other strong emotions he had yet to decipher. The darkness above his head appeared to swirl into an emptiness of a more sinister nature. Reid forced his mind to break through that darkness and see what lay behind it. A headache formed behind his eyes. He ignored it. A picture formed, then became three-dimensional. In it he fought a man. They both used swords. Reid watched himself become impaled on the other man's weapon. Surely no man could take that kind of wound and live. Somehow he had come back to fight and die over and over again. Reid shook his head and closed his eyes against the memory. It must be memory, but to remember dying? Absurd. Again he pushed the boundaries of his mind for answers. This time as he watched himself fight for his life once more, Cassie came between the sword and his body. Something like an electrical jolt forced him to sit upright. She'd saved his life. He put a hand to his aching head. It didn't make sense. How could she come between him and death, and live herself? Where had all this happened? There had to be more. He lay down again and forced himself to relax. Always before, when he'd tried to force a memory, he'd been left with a pain behind his eyes that lasted for days. Don't push it, Maigret had said. Aunt Zoe and Chad had agreed. The memories were there. They would return when his mind and body were ready to accept them. How much more ready did he need to be? His body was fully recovered. Except for the loss of his past, his mind was sharp. The waiting was over. Cassie would answer his questions, every last one of them. He wouldn't leave until he had the key to the door in his mind. She had it. He wanted it. It was as simple as that.

Morning brought him up the path to the house where he discovered that the answers were unlikely to be answered today. His hair was plastered to his head by the torrential rain. Soaked to the skin, Reid wanted nothing more than a hot meal followed by a long conversation. He found Cassie, shivering in damp clothing, asleep in an armchair by one of the windows. "Foolish woman," Reid whispered. He touched her cheek. Feverish heat met his fingertips. When he leaned closer, he heard the wheezing with each breath she inhaled. Her lips were dry, cracked. There was nothing to do but care for her. Reid searched the house and found dry clothing for her. Then he built a fire in the small stone fireplace in the living room. It was the only source of heat he could find in the house. He brought blankets from the same closet Cassie had rummaged through last night and made a bed for her on the couch. Through the long daylight hours, which were more like constant twilight because of the storm, Reid nursed Cassie. At first he thought she had merely taken a chill, but as the storm worsened, her fever did the same. She woke long enough to take some soup, which Reid managed to heat. Her eyes were glazed. He wasn't sure the look she gave him was one of recognition or hallucination. The electricity stayed on. Reid turned a radio to a classical music station that alternated news of the slow moving storm with personal interest notes on how the residents of the state were faring. Reid was dozing in a chair near the couch when the music from the radio turned into a tune he knew. He sat straight up in the chair and listened to the melodic strains of the minuet come through the speaker. He'd danced to this music. He remembered holding a sweet smelling girl in his arms and spinning her around a crowded room. A smile touched his lips at the memory. How could he remember such a thing? This was not modern music, at least not from what he'd heard on other radio stations. He frowned, struggling with the first clear memory he'd had all day. Cassie began to toss and turn on the couch. "Reid, you're such a flirt," her voice rasped from her fevered throat. He moved to her side. She smiled in her sleep and moved her head to the music. "Yes, it is warm in here. I'd love to see the rose garden by moonlight." Just as Reid bent to touch her, wake her up, her eyes shot open. She screamed, "No. Reid, look behind you. Ohhhh." She collapsed back onto her pillow. Thunder crashed around the house and lightning made the room brighter than it had been all day. A sharp crack reverberated through the air. Reid raced to a window and looked out in time to see a large tree fall on the wires strung between poles across the road. The lights went out and the radio fell dead. The shrill ringing of the telephone broke through the sudden silence.

Chapter Eighteen

Before Reid had a chance to say hello, Maigret's calm voice came through the hand set. "You must care for her now. Keep her covered lightly. Wet, tepid cloths on her forehead to bring down the fever. I'll be in touch." She hung up as Reid said, "Wait a minute, how do I --" A beeping took the place of Maigret's voice. "Damn that woman." He returned to Cassie. At least she no longer tossed and turned. A single tear streaked across her cheek. As he touched it, her eyes opened. "I thought you were dead," she whispered. "Never leave me again." "Of course not," Reid spoke without thinking. She needed comfort. He was the only one around to provide it. "Promise?" her voice sank lower, her eyelids closed. "Promise." He cradled her in his arms.

She ached all over. She was too hot. The bed had more lumps in it than a gravel road. In short, she felt better. When she rolled over to get out of bed, she discovered why it felt so unfamiliar. It was the couch. A familiar voice sounded to her right, "At last, Sleeping Beauty awakes." "Reid." So it hadn't all been a dream. He was here. By the rumpled, unshaven looks of him, he'd been here a while. Her nightgown was twisted around her waist. She stopped in the motion of pulling it down. "How did I get changed?" His gray eyes twinkled at her. She felt herself go warm all over and hoped her blush wasn't as bright as the heat it caused. "I found you in the wet clothes you'd slept in. Putting something dry on you seemed the neighborly thing to do." "Oh." She thought for a moment. A storm had blown in. She'd dreamed deeply. Reid had been there. "You had a fever," Reid explained when she raised questioning eyes his way. "I took care of you." "I can take care of myself." Embarrassment had her voice come out sharper than she intended. Reid sat back on his heels and surveyed her. "Aunt Zoe claims the patient must be better if their temper gets riled. Are you hungry?"

"I am," Cassie admitted with some surprise. While Reid wandered off towards the kitchen, she scurried into the bathroom and took care of some urgent business. Her thick, plaid robe hung over a hook on the door. She wrapped it around her and tied it snugly. The mirror reflected the fact that she'd neither brushed her hair or washed her face recently. She took care of that. Brushing her teeth made her feel almost normal again. The scent of coffee brewing had her opening the door and heading for the kitchen. She found Reid spreading butter on freshly toasted bread. He held a chair for her and she sat down gratefully, her legs unaccountably weak. "How long have you been here?" she asked once she'd eaten half her toast and enjoyed a sip of coffee. The question was innocuous enough, a silence breaker. What she really wanted to know was if he remembered her yet. "Since yesterday morning. You missed quite a sight. The lake is positively primitive when whipped to a frenzy the way it was yesterday. When the electricity came back on --" "The electricity went out?" Cassie interrupted. "Just for a short while. A tree fell across the lines. Until a crew came out to fix it, we were pretty isolated." "Thank you for taking care of me." "It was my pleasure, Mistress." Cassie stared. "What did you call me?" "Mistress?" "Why did you call me that?" "I don't know. It just seemed -- right." A frown crossed Reid's face. "Do you remember anything that happened while you were sick?" "Well, I dreamed. It must have been a dream. There was music, and -- you." She hesitated. The dream was vivid in her mind. She knew she talked in her sleep on occasion. Had he heard her say something? "We danced to the music before, didn't we, Cassie?" Reid reached for her hands. His gaze compelled her to answer. "The music, yes. But only in a dream I had a long time ago." "Something frightened you. You warned me to look behind me. What was it?" He was close to the truth. She could just blurt it out, but would he accept it? Lord, her head hurt with the effort of struggling with partial truths, damning truths. Telling him that he was man from a different century, brought here when she put herself in fate's way, might just drive him away. He wouldn't even look back. He'd think she was crazy if he didn't remember it himself.

She decided on a different tack. "Did Maigret tell you why she brought you here?" He let her hands go and leaned back, considering. "She said something vague and sort of poetic. Let's see, it was 'the truth is an answer carried in the heart.' Whatever the hell that means. Do you know?" "Maybe." Cassie hesitated. He was watching her with a combination of anticipation and pride. She wondered how much longer he'd wait before he flat out asked her for her truth. "We were lovers, weren't we?" His matter-of-fact voice dared her to refute it. Cassie swallowed hard. "Yes." "Do you still love me?" he asked, his face bare of emotion. She couldn't tell what answer he wanted. She took Maigret's advice and looked to her heart. "You taught me courage and what it meant to be in love." He jerked out of his chair and came around to her. Kneeling in front of her, but without touching her, he asked again, "Do you love me?" "I'll always love you." She didn't know how her legs managed to support her, but somehow she got up from the table and left the room. Reid remained motionless on his knees. Cassie showered and dressed. Her room was clutter free, but she spent some time dusting and rearranging her belongings anyway. The sound of the screen door slamming reached her. A moment of desolation clutched at her as she wondered if he was leaving for good. She didn't go after him, though she desperately wanted to. Her declaration of undying love no doubt sounded trite and cloying to that man, who didn't remember. Instinct, intuition, one of Maigret's sixth senses, whatever she called it, Cassie knew that Reid would stay until her found what he was looking for. At least, she prayed he would. When she finally descended to the living room, Cassie found the sheets and other bedding from the couch bundled together. Tired from her illness, feeling more alone than she had since the Copelands had left, she pulled a wool blanket from the pile and took it to the porch with her. The wind blustered across the lake and shoreline. It turned the water into swells. White topped waves crashed against the boulder-strewn shore. The windowpanes shook with each gust of the wind, but the sun shone in a cloudless sky of deep blue. It reached into the porch where Cassie had settled, huddled into the blanket on the cushioned seat of the wicker rocker. The constant rushing of the waves mixed with the keening of the wind was relaxing. Combined with the warmth of the sunlight, Cassie should have fallen asleep. Instead she considered her next step with Reid. He'd taken care of her while she was ill. Somehow he'd guessed that they'd been more than simple friends. Certainly he deserved more from her than Maigret's famed "Time will tell," waiting for memory to return. How could she stimulate his mind without giving all the answers? She knew, with the same intuition that had told her Reid hadn't left her, that gentle nudging would be far more effective than bludgeoning him over the head with the whole story. Return to the scene of the crime. Why not? If any place would bring back those hidden memories, a visit to Eagle's Aerie would. The question was, Cassie considered, could she handle going back there?

Reid came into view. He walked steadily through the damp grass and settled on a large block of granite facing the lake. He looked so alone. How could she not give him back something of himself? After all he had given her, it was the least she could do. Mind made up, Cassie tossed off the blanket, along with the last of her lethargy. She'd rent a car. If they drove straight through, they'd be back in Virginia by this time tomorrow. Reid didn't make a comment when she told him her intentions. She left a message for the Copelands. A rental car was delivered to their door an hour after Cassie made up her mind. Reid insisted she rest while he drove. "When did you learn how to drive?" she asked as he maneuvered the car along the winding dirt road. He glanced at her. "You sound surprised. Chad taught me. He thought the skill would go well with my driver's license." "Amazing." Cassie wondered what else had happened that she didn't know about. "So, you have driver's license. What else did Chad provide?" Reid eased the car onto the southbound ramp of the highway before he spoke. "A birth certificate, college and post graduate diplomas, and a rather sizable bank account." The information dazed Cassie. How had Chad managed to forge so many documents? "What do you do for a living?" "I'm told that I restore old homes to their original state. Considering the balance in my check book and the size of my investment portfolio, I must be good at it." "You don't remember any of it?" "No. Frankly, I find it rather unbelievable." "Me too." Dark evergreen forests, broken here and there by green meadows lined with hardwoods, bordered the Maine Turnpike for most of its length. The traffic picked up when they reached the New Hampshire border. Cassie stayed busy with the map, trying to find alternate routes around the busy highways that ran through southern New England. The weather grew milder. The cold air mass that had battered Maine hadn't come any further south than New Hampshire. Highways blurred into an unending ribbon before them. Diners, rest stops, and gas stations interspersed the miles until Cassie couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Reid wouldn't let her drive. She didn't mind. She'd probably drive them into a ditch. Around midnight, Reid pulled into a roadside motel. Without conferring with Cassie, he rented adjoining rooms for what remained of the night. He carried her to her room and tucked her under the covers fully clothed. She didn't wake until he brought her a strong cup of coffee at sunrise. He looked haggard. Stubble darkened his face. His shirt was as rumpled as hers. A haunted look touched his eyes when she thanked him. Her urgency to get to Eagle's Aerie and release Reid's memory increased.

"I'll drive from here." She took the keys from his hand before he could protest. They made little conversation for the remainder of the journey. It was late afternoon when they pulled into the visitor's parking lot at Eagle's Aerie. "I thought you'd like to see some colonial architecture," Cassie said lightly. "The mansion is a fine example of restoration work. As a matter of fact, they've been busy all summer repairing the cedar roof." Reid didn't say a word, but he caught her hand in his as they walked through the entrance. Cassie pulled her hat low on her brow and adjusted her sunglasses. The last thing she wanted was having to speak to someone she knew. Especially Fred. He'd recognize Reid immediately and start asking more questions than she felt ready to handle. Fate was on her side. The crowd of summer tourists had diminished to a few autumn wanderers. Late afternoon was generally quiet here anyway. The weather was perfect for a leisurely stroll through the grounds, yet as soon as they walked past the first set of outer buildings, Reid increased his pace. At the round drive at the front of the mansion he ran, pulling her along in his haste. The great house stood as Cassie remembered it. Its white textured boards perhaps a bit shinier with a new coat of paint. The roof repairs were all but completed. The crew had finished for the day, their scaffolding the only evidence that they'd been there. Reid stopped as they reached the front door. He put a hand to his head and rubbed. Something about this porch, the arch over the doorway, the way the buildings were arranged, was familiar to him. His head pounded. Sweat trickled down his back. Eagerness and apprehension vied for his attention as he reached for the doorknob. Cassie held back. He turned to her. The hope and fear mingling in her expression brought the truth home. "This is where it began?" She nodded. "Just go in and tell me what you see." The house welcomed him. His feet carried him without conscious effort. The air shimmered around him. Cassie faded into the background of the drab rooms as the rooms he remembered quivered into view. Blinding light of understanding and remembrance struck him as he moved into the large parlor. He'd lived here, and died over and over again here. Right -- there, on the carpet in front of the marble fireplace. "Don't --" He heard Cassie whisper. She clutched at his hand. The room swam back to solid, present form. He looked at her and understood her distress. He remembered it all. Finally, he knew why she looked at him with such large eyes full of compassion. "Come here, Cassandra." Relief crossed her face. She flew into his arms.

"You are a miracle, Reid. Don't ever leave me again." "I promised already. I always keep my word. "What about -- Elizabeth and Hunter?" "What about them? I've been given a second chance at life. They are far in my past. Let them stay there. We have a future to build. Let's get out of here." He took her hand and led her down a path until they reached a secluded bench on the banks of the river. "I was sure you'd chosen to follow the light Elizabeth offered," Cassie said once she was seated comfortably on Reid's lap. Reid nuzzled her neck. Now the rush of desire he'd kept tamped since he'd seen her again in Maine made sense to him. She smelled of flowers. He nibbled the skin behind her ear and she trembled. "Why would I want to leave you when I'd just found you," he answered. "You were so angry, so bent on revenge. I worried for your soul." Cassie sighed as he moved his hand along her back under her shirt. Reid found the clasp that held Cassie's bra and flicked it open. Her breasts, released from their prison, flowed warm into his cupped hands. "No more questions, Cassandra." His voice was hoarse with need. She shuddered as his thumbs rubbed the erect tips of her nipples. When she tilted her head so her lips met his, he knew he'd found the nectar of life itself. He drowned in her kiss, her welcoming mouth, the darting tongue that teased him into a frenzy. When she pulled away, he protested. Until her hands, frantic, pulled at the snap and zipper to his jeans. He knew a place of soft ferns and sheltering trees. He picked her up and carried her into the trees. The glade was smaller than he remembered, but the encroaching bushes increased their privacy. Need overwhelmed leisure. There would be time for slow, building love-making later. Now, they slaked their thirst for each other, a thirst made close to overpowering by the realization of what they had nearly lost. Reid entered Cassandra with a swift movement that brought her to a shuddering climax. Calling his name over and over, she writhed beneath him, her eyes unfocused and wide as the wave took her. He held her close when she relaxed and pulled her on top of him. Straddling him, her own body unclothed and pagan in the dappled late day sunshine, she brought him to his own climax, and came with him. The buzzing of a mosquito in his ear brought Reid back to his senses. Cassandra lay on top of him, impaled, warm and moist. When she sat up, her face reminded him of the unearthly beauty of the light which had beckoned him to the world beyond. He knew that love was responsible for Cassandra's bliss. His body responded again. He rolled her onto her back. His manhood quickened to a hard shaft inside her. She gasped in protest as

he pulled out. "This time we'll enjoy it even more," he promised. She subsided for only a short while. Soon, his hands, lips, all of him, touched her intimately. She arched her back in response. How could it be better, Cassie wondered, when the first time had taken her so close to heaven? His tongue teased her throat, moved to her breasts, all the while his hands stroked her abdomen and thighs. By the time his mouth reached her taut nipples, his hands had found their way to the tight, hard bud between her thighs that ached for his touch. Her world shattered around her as his mouth and fingers changed places. He kissed her most secret place until she lay on the brink of orgasm, then he backed off. Again and again he brought her to that torturous precipice where blind instinct yearned to plunge her. "Reid, now, please." She'd die if he didn't enter her and fill her with his essence. "Whatever you want, my love." His eyes, dark and stormy, held her gaze as he knelt between her legs. With aching slowness, he pushed into her. She cried out a welcome and took him with her over the cliff.

"I'm hungry," Cassie said. They were walking through the dusk back towards the car park. Hands intertwined, her head on his shoulder, she was completely happy, sated, in love with the man of her dreams. "Again?" He brushed her lips with a soft kiss. She returned his kiss and laughed. "For food, you insatiable man. I have recovered my appetite." "Good, I was afraid I'd have to force you to eat to put a little meat on your bones." Cassie smiled. Putting her arms around her neck, she said, "Over the next few months, you'll be amazed at how big I get." He couldn't decipher her smile. Intrigued, he waited for the rest of it. She forced him to ask, "How big?" She pushed away from him and held both arms in front of her as if holding a large ball. "I'd say, this big should do it." "But why --" The truth hit him. "You're with child?" "Not just any child. Your child." She stayed a step out of his reached and searched his face for reaction. "How is it possible?" "I told you that you were a miracle, Reid. Is it so surprising that one miracle can beget another?" Her voice was gentle, though he heard the entreaty there.

He took the step and caught her up in his arms. Joy suffused him. "I thought that being tangled in time, nothing could come of our earlier joining. I guess I was wrong." "Let's go home." "Where is home?" He remembered the keys in his pocket and the address written on his driver?s license. "Home is where our hearts rest. Wherever we are together is home." A golden stream of light from the setting sun gilded the pair, a blessing for the miracle that was their lives.

Zoe Penwarren left the seeing-trance behind and refocused on the world around her. She smiled. Past events had been made right. Lives had come full circle. If any couple was made for "happily every after," Reid and Cassandra were. She could almost taste the wedding cake. The tiny life growing in Cassandra was certainly unexpected icing. She just loved it when her desire and the will of fate coincided. Now she must turn her attention to -"Maigret." Her niece burst into the room trailing smoke and the pungent scent of sulfur. Maigret's designer clothing was scorched and her hair turned into Medusa tangles. "It worked Aunt Zoe. Oh, I know I messed up with the cardinal directions again, but the results were worth it." Maigret's exultation belied her appearance. Zoe stood warily. Her niece's experiments with her craft often turned out with an unexpected twist. Now that she used a computer, an electronic devise that made Zoe extremely uncomfortable, there was no guessing what Maigret's nimble mind would uncover. Nor what the results would be. "That does it." Chad stormed into the room, elbowing his sister aside on the way. "Aunt Zoe, either she goes or I do." Zoe sat down again. Siblings could be such a bother. She strove for inner peace as the young ones quarreled. "Hah." Maigret shouted. "Now you'll know better than to appear in that 'Smoke Man' get-up again. I've finally figured out the counter spell to it." "Yeah, look where it got you, too. You look more like a cartoon witch than a member of that snooty coven you wanted to join last year," Chad shot back. Maigret looked down at her clothes ruefully. With a wave of her hand, a mirror appeared and floated in front of her. She narrowed her eyes at her reflection and mumbled an incoherent verse. When she was through, she was neat once more. She dismissed the mirror and turned to her brother. "You hate to admit that my control is improving." She laughed and Chad joined her. "Improving in some respects anyway. I'm the first to recognize my need for organizing myself better." A smile lingered on Chad's lips. He was secretly proud of Maigret for figuring out the key to his

metamorphosis. It was difficult to maintain, and equally hard to concoct the correct counter-spell. His deliberate teasing was having the desired effect. Maigret didn't realize it, and if she did she wouldn't admit it, but Chad was helping her focus her power by setting up challenges for her. Aunt Zoe spoke up. "If you're quite through with this sniping, you might like to know that Reid and Cassie have completed the first step in destiny's design for them." "I'm so glad," Maigret said. "I hate to think of the pain both went through." In fact, she had actually felt a good deal of it herself, empathy being one of her strongest gifts. "Me too. Come on Maigret, let's see what else you can cook up tonight. I've got a great spell that requires some eye of newt," Chad said. Maigret preceded him out the door. Zoe stifled a giggle. As Chad followed his sister from the room, puffs of blue smoke echoed his footsteps.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Karin Huxman grew up in a small New England town in an authentic antique house with all the attendant creaks, groans, and mysterious rustlings that such dwellings possess. She read voraciously as a child and never grew out of her love for books. During the two and a half years when she and her family lived in Northern Virginia, Karin spent much of her free time visiting Mount Vernon and many other "great houses" and early American plantations in the area. The dwellings and the surrounding countryside reminded her of her childhood home. After listening to the ghost stories that revolved around many of these historic places, ENTANGLED was born. Karin now lives in Colorado Springs with her husband, three children, one black lab, one Siamese cat, and an ever changing number of goldfish. If you would like to write to Karin, her address is: PO Box 62553 Colorado Springs, CO 80962-2553 Or e-mail: Information about Karin?s past and future books. VIRTUAL HEART - ISBN: 1-891020-96X - available Now Coming soon as a Print-On-Demand title from Borders A futuristic romance in which virtual technology proves no match for the power of love. 4 ****Stars! ? Romantic Times "If you?re looking for an action-packed adventure in the tradition of Indiana Jones, this is the book for you. Ms. Huxman skillfully couples heart-stopping suspense with a romance that truly sparkles. Enjoy!" - Victoria Lynne, author of WITH THIS KISS. "This engrossing read skillfully blends intellect with emotion, psychic abilities with near-future virtual reality, and a satisfying romance with edge-of-your-seat adventure for a unique reading experience you

won't soon forget. VIRTUAL HEART is a virtual treasure!"-- Pam McCutcheon, award winning author. THE BACHELOR AND THE BABY ? ISBN: 1-58608-168-3 Coming December 2000 Take one sexy bachelor and the mysterious baby in his care; add a widow with two young sons. Stir gently and prepare to be beguiled by this contemporary romance. RWA Golden Heart Contest Finalist Ordering information: New Concepts Publishing, 4729 Humphreys Rd., Lake Park, GA 31636 Or email: www.newconceptspublishing.com