I stood there in the street, the cell phone at my ear, weighing what I should do. I believed Darius. Finally I said, "Okay, I'll go. Do you want me to meet you someplace?"

"Yes. From Twenty-Third Street, walk down Broadway to the Strand bookstore at Twelfth. Wait on the corner. I'll drive up in a Ford Taurus, blue. Fifteen minutes."

"How do you know where I am?" I said, feeling shaken.

"Just an educated guess, Daphy." He laughed.

But doubts crowded into my head. Was it an educated guess? Was he watching me? Had he followed me? Had his people followed me?

"See you soon. Better get walking." he said, and clicked off.

I grabbed a cab. Hoofing it for eleven blocks in these boots would kill my feet. Men don't think about those things. They have no clue. They actually think shoes should feel good.

I stood on the street corner at Twelfth Street, hugging myself against the cold. The snow had become a light drizzle, and the streets were wet with rain. I was in a state of high anxiety and kept moving around, stamping my feet and scanning the traffic. I had a lot of questions to ask Darius. I just didn't know if I would or could or should-or if he'd answer if I did. Asking Darius a question was like throwing sand against the wind. The wind blew it right back again.

A dark blue Taurus pulled up and stopped. I hopped into the pa.s.senger seat. Despite all my suspicions about him, my hormones trumped my reason. I leaned over, and he gave me a quick kiss on the lips. He smelled of sandalwood and citrus. His long hair was clean, his face freshly shaven, his muscular arms and chest defined by a Ralph Lauren sweater in black cashmere. He wore a single Native American earring that dangled a bear claw from a short chain and was studded with a piece of turquoise. I had to admit he looked good. No wonder my brain didn't work very well around him.

"Hey," he said. "It's good to see you." He pulled out into traffic, and after some maneuvering to get onto a westbound street, he headed for the Lincoln Tunnel in Midtown.

"Hey, you too." I said, suddenly grinning like an idiot. I caught myself, told myself to be cool, took a deep breath, and said, "So how far is Exeter. Pennsylvania?"

He laughed. "I figured you'd know where Bonaventure went. It's only about three hours away, maybe less. We'll be there by ten."

"Shouldn't we discuss some sort of plan before we pull up into the driveway and go knocking on the front door? I mean. I know why I want to go there. I don't know why you do."

"Why do you want to go?" he asked, avoiding my question.

"I believe he killed Herr Schneibel and took that New Guinea witchcraft art I told you about. I intend to get it back. Period. And you?"

"I have some unfinished business with him," Darius said, his jaw getting tight and his eyes sliding off mine and staring straight ahead.

He obviously wasn't going to tell me anything. I felt like I couldn't trust him all over again. I got very quiet and stayed that way through the tunnel. Shortly after we came out in New Jersey, the lighted skyline of Manhattan lay before us on the other side of the Hudson. I looked toward the place where the Twin Towers once stood. I remembered that Darius and I were working on the same side to prevent another tragedy like that one. "Darius," I said. "I have to ask you about something. Will you answer me?"

As we headed through heavy traffic toward Route 3, which would take us westward, Darius kept his eyes on the road when he answered. "I'll try, Daphne. I can't promise. It depends. But ask anyway." His voice was gentle.

"You said you did get into Bonaventure's apartment last night, right?"

"Yes, I said that. And yes, I did get in," he said, and glanced over at me.

"You said you did what you needed to do, right?"

"Yes," Darius said, and didn't add anything. He sounded as if he were being interrogated on a witness stand and I was the prosecutor.

I took a deep breath and said, "Did you kill Issa and Tanya?"

"No," he said. And that was it, just plain no no. It was what I wanted to hear, but was it true? I went on: "Were you there when they were killed?"

He didn't answer quickly. He put the car on cruise control and fiddled around for a minute. Then he looked at me hard. "Yes, I was there." I gasped. "But there wasn't anything I could do to save them," he added.

My voice was louder, more insistent, when I asked, "Do you know who killed them?"

"Yes," he said in a flat, toneless voice.

"Well, who? Tell me, Darius!"

He absolutely refused to look in my direction, although I had moved closer to him and my face was just inches away. He said, "I can't answer that. Next question."

I felt sick inside. Then I asked, "Did you take the diamonds?"

"No, Daphne, I did not take any diamonds. And I say in all honesty that I never laid eyes on a diamond, an emerald, any kind of gem whatsoever. I didn't swipe the silver either."

He didn't seem to know about the missing valise. I went on: "Can you tell me now why you needed to get into Bonaventure's apartment?" I hoped he'd give me an answer I'd believe.

He looked at me then, and suddenly grinned. That threw me completely off guard. "What are you smiling about?" I said.

"Girlfriend, where did you you get Bonaventure's address?" get Bonaventure's address?"

I frowned. What was he asking me that for? "I used a reverse directory to identify the phone numbers I found on the speed dial of Bonaventure's hall phone."

"Bingo! So did I."

I felt like I had to connect the dots. "You mean you needed to get into the apartment to get phone numbers?"

"Among other things."

Yes, I thought, and he had no intention of telling me about those other things. He expected me to be satisfied with a small part of the truth. I felt hurt by Darius's games even though I told myself I shouldn't let them do a number on me. "Darius, I'm not stupid. You didn't just go in there for phone numbers. And are you telling me that none of the U.S. intelligence agencies knew the location of Bonaventure's country place?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Daphne. My agency didn't. Yours didn't. n.o.body even knew he had a country place in the U.S. until he mentioned it to you and we picked up the conversation with the bug you planted. That's not as crazy as it sounds. He could be using a place belonging to someone else. He could have bought it using a lawyer and a dummy corporation. Believe me, Exeter, Pennsylvania, is not a town where international arms dealers normally hang out. I don't know what he's doing there or why he went there. But I know he is is there. That's all I care about." there. That's all I care about."

"Do you know if he brought a truck or a van? Do you know if he could possibly have brought an art collection with him?" I pressed.

"No, I didn't have access to any of that information. Sorry."

I made a disgusted sound, sort of like "pah," and said, "You act as though you know everything."

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me. "Do I detect some hostility, Miss Urban? As a matter of fact, I know only what I have to do. I don't care about anything else. As for the art, wasn't it just a phony deal you set up? And why do you care so much that Bonaventure has it?"

"First of all, the deal wasn't a fake," I said with sadness in my voice. I explained to Darius about Schneibel's collection. I told him that Bonaventure could use the statues to bend others to his will. Bonaventure could make others sick if they didn't do what he asked; he could even kill them without lifting a finger. What else could he do? I wasn't sure. Maybe some kind of ma.s.s hypnosis that could give him hundreds of followers, or even millions. Bonaventure could be king of a country, and that wasn't far-fetched at all. Saddam Hussein controlled Iraq without black magic. But with the masks, Bonaventure might someday take over the world. When I finished talking, I watched for Darius's reaction. J didn't believe those statues and masks had any powers. I wondered how Darius would react.

"So," I said as I finished my story, "I intend to destroy the art if I can. Will you help me do it?"

Darius had listened very carefully to me. "If these things can do what you say they can do..."

"They can, Darius, they can. I don't know it you believe in occult powers, but they exist, Darius. That I know."

"I don't doubt you, Daphne. As Shakespeare said, 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' I've seen too much of evil not to know at least some of it isn't human. I know there are occult powers. I know there are ghosts." He paused there, and then said, "And I know there are vampires."

I felt like I had to respond carefully. "Maybe there are, Darius. At least I'll keep an open mind about it." I kept my voice from shaking, but his words were so heavy with hate and loathing when he said that, that it sent a sharp pain shooting into my heart. If he hated vampires, he hated me and those I loved. I couldn't even look at him. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I was trying to keep my breathing even. But just after he finished saying what he did, he reached over and took my hand in his.

"You're cold," he said. "I'll get you warm." Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he put his other arm around my shoulders, pulling me close like teenagers do. I snuggled against him and put my head on his shoulder.

We drove through the night, our bodies pressed tightly together and our fingers entwined.

Chapter 12.

Frost at Midnight .

Driving westward I felt happier than I had for a very long time, but anxiety underlay my bliss. I focused on the moment, because I knew the good feelings couldn't last. Darius hated vampires. I was a vampire. Sooner or later the irresistible force and the immovable object would meet. My heart would be left in the wreckage; that I knew. I just didn't know how bad the collision would be.

After an hour or so we crossed the river into Pennsylvania, and drove through the tollbooth at the Delaware Water Gap. I sighed and sat up. "We should talk," I said. "How are we going to handle this? Obviously I need to burgle the place and remove over a dozen crates of art, ranging in size from around twenty to fifty pounds each. Is that even going to be possible? And we don't know who else is there besides Bonaventure and Catharine. Do you have any ideas?"

"I always have ideas," Darius said, doing a Groucho Marx imitation with his eyebrows and wiggling an air cigar.

"I'm serious," I said, giving him a playful poke in the ribs.

"Okay. I'll be good. Yes, I have an idea, or maybe two," he said as our blue Taurus slipped through the night, going deeper into Pennsylvania. I saw the exit for Stroudsburg. It crossed my mind that I might need a rest stop before too long.

Darius continued talking: "Plan A. First we case the joint," he said, using a really bad Brooklyn accent.

"You know, I don't think you're serious enough," I said. "Okay, we look around the exterior and find a way to enter. Then I go tiptoeing through the interior searching for a big pile of crates containing witchcraft items. When I find them, I make a huge noise hoisting them out the window-and then what? We need a truck or a van. d.a.m.n it, I should have thought this out before we left." I felt down on myself. I had focused on my feelings for Darius and been a total a.s.swipe about what should be primary in my thoughts. If this expedition brought me to grief, it was because of my own poor choices, not bad luck.

"Daphy, don't get upset," Darius said, looking over at me. "Think outside the box. If the art's there and we can't get it out, what's the alternative?"

I was feeling frustrated, and Darius's "quizzing" had a patronizing edge. I started to get an att.i.tude with him. "Why don't you just tell me? I'm not in the mood for twenty questions."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be nice," he said. "The best way to get rid of anything 'on site' is to burn it where it sits."

"c.r.a.p. That's major. What about Bonaventure? What about that woman who's with him, Catharine? What if there's any hired help? Or pets? Catharine has a cat." My concerns swam through my mind, and to tell the truth, I have an instinctual fear of fire anywhere but in a nice cozy fireplace. It's my animal nature. The whole notion of setting a raging inferno gave me the beginnings of a panic attack.

Darius must have seen the fear in my face. "Daphy, I've done this before. I can handle it. If the art is there, we'll flush everyone out of the house. Then we'll torch it. Does that work for you?"

Once again I felt like a spy who didn't know anything about the hands-on side of my craft. Over the centuries I had gravitated to the bohemians of the world. I'm an expert at sobering up drunk writers, rescuing suicidal painters, or comforting bad actors who just got panned, but aside from some street fighting with the Fenians, my criminal activities had been largely the white-collar kind. I hated feeling stupid, and I said testily, "There's still big enough holes in this plan to drive a truck through, but I can go along with it. Now, Darius, it's your turn. What about your reason for coming out here?"

"While you're looking for the art, I'll take care of my business. Don't worry about it."

"For cripes' sake!" I exploded. "If I hear 'don't worry about it' one more time from you, I'm saying to h.e.l.l with everything. Look, I'm going to be in that house with you. What about that whole speech you gave me about keeping each other out of the cross fire? How we need to share information so we can cooperate? Why do I do all the giving, and you do the taking?" Steam was coming out of my ears by the time I finished.

"Whoa, Daphne. Sorry. I didn't know it was such a big deal to you."

"Yeah, it's a very big deal. And I do do think you knew that. Now be straight with me." think you knew that. Now be straight with me."

"Look, it's not complex. My agency is worried that Bonaventure knows something about the area we don't, and he's setting up another base of operations for his weapons dealing. I mean, n.o.body figured Buffalo, New York, as the location for an Al Qaeda cell, but it was. Back in the early 1970s, the Weathermen had safe houses in Pennsylvania, so it's not out of the realm of possibility. I was going to plant some listening devices. But burning his house down will save me a lot of snooping. If Bonaventure leaves the area afterward, then he was only on vacation. If he rebuilds, we can a.s.sume he has reason to stay. What's the reason? Why did he go there in the first place? It's not a resort area. No, something else is going on besides R and R."

Everything Darius explained sounded believable. So why, in my heart of hearts, didn't I believe him? My gut told me he wasn't telling me everything, and I wondered what he was leaving out. "So that's it?" I said skeptically. "That's why you had to run out here tonight when we've got such a crisis situation in New York?"

"It was a window of opportunity, that's all. We have until tomorrow at least before there's going to be action in the city. And Daphy, in case you haven't guessed, I had to see you." He took one hand off the steering wheel and pulled me closer to him once more. "I like to feel you touching me. I don't seem to be able to stay away from you. So I came up with a way for us to spend time together." He put his hand back on the wheel and watched the road, then said, "Now, let's fill in the details of our plan."

I wanted it to be true that he couldn't stay away from me, yet in the back of my mind a little warning light was blinking that Darius used sweet talk to manipulate me. However, I agreed that we should hash out the details of what lay ahead, so I said, "And how will we get the people out if we burn down the place?"

"I can set a small, contained blaze. You start yelling, 'Fire!' When whoever is in the house gets out, I'll make sure the rest goes up in smoke-quickly, before the fire-fighters can arrive. Then we won't risk anybody getting hurt."

"It sounds almost too easy," I said with a great deal of doubt.

"It's never easy," Darius said. "A lot can go wrong. But I'm good at what I do. It's worth taking some chances."

I had to agree. "You're right," I conceded. "Getting rid of that New Guinea collection is worth taking a big chance, Darius. I feel that it's something I have to do."

"Believe me, Daphne, I understand. And I'd do almost anything for you."

I looked at him again. How much of his affection for me was real, and how much was he just using me? From the start he had used me in one way or another. We had great s.e.x, and I didn't think he faked the gentleness. Things weren't all black-and-white with Darius, even if he he thought they were. Then again, how well did I really know him? Not well at all. thought they were. Then again, how well did I really know him? Not well at all.

He took his eyes off the road and glanced over at me. "That look you're giving me isn't a good one. Daphne. You think I'm giving you a line, but I have deep feelings for you. I haven't been able to prove to you that I really care, but maybe someday I can. After this is over."

I looked at his face in the flickering lights of pa.s.sing cars. He looked sad and serious. I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "All right, what about plan B? What if we can't break in? Or what do we do if the art isn't there and we don't torch the place? You were willing to help me. It should be mutual. If I have to sashay up to the front door and charm my way in, I will."

He reached over and touched my hair. "Okay, let's figure out an alternative. If we don't burn the place down, I'll plant the listening devices, and I'll need to do a surveillance of the layout. And yes, that would be a whole lot safer and easier than arson. It will be in-and-out. You distract Bonaventure, I'll do my thing, and we'll get the h.e.l.l out of there. Sound good?"

"It sounds real good," I said, but deep inside me I didn't think it was going to be that easy.

Sometimes p.i.s.s-poor planning is better than no planning at all. And that night Darius and I had no plan whatsoever to deal with the internal fires that began raging whenever we got within arm's length of each other. I should have remembered AA's mantra for staying away from triggers that can cause a drinker to fall off the wagon: People. Places. Things People. Places. Things... Should have remembered the effect of buying a big bag of York Peppermint Patties "just to have on hand" for company the day you start a diet. Should have remembered that Darius and I had decided to "cool it" until all this was over with. Yeah, I should have remembered all of that before I got into the same car with him, feasted my eyes on his hard body, and smelled the tantalizing scent of him that went straight to the ancient, limbic brain that controls desire. I woulda, coulda, shoulda... but I didn't.

We drove farther into the wilderness, past Stroudsburg and up over the jagged ridge of mountains that marks the higher elevations of Pennsylvania. Darius's thigh pressed into my thigh. The car heater was blasting out warm air, but it wasn't generating even a tenth of the heat building up inside of me.

We were snuggled together in the darkness. The radio was tuned to golden oldies. John Cougar's "Hurts So Good" started me thinking. Then Chicago came on with "Hard Habit to Break" and pushed me closer to the thoughts I was trying to ignore. But the clincher was Foreigner with "I Want to Know What Love Is"-I want you to show me. I want to feel what love is; I know you can show me. By the time the final crescendo finished, I was a goner. I looked at Darius. I could read his mind as easily as he could read mine.

"You know," I said, "getting to Bonaventure's at ten is way too early."

"I was thinking the same thing," Darius said.

"Without a doubt at ten o'clock everybody in the house will be awake. We need to get there, say, at midnight." My voice was coy, and I was stroking his thigh.

"You're right. I think we have to kill a few hours," he responded.

"Got any of your ideas ideas now?" I said, and kissed his cheek. now?" I said, and kissed his cheek.

"We can find a truck stop and get a cup of coffee," he said.

"Well, I could use a rest stop," I answered, then hesitated.