The only thing putting a damper on the situation was that Baris had long ago run out of money. True, he could still get what he wanted by using his Vector magic. There were very few humans who could withstand the power of his hypnotic suggestions. They willingly parted with food, clothing and goods with no mention of compensation. If Deirdre noticed, she said nothing. After all, most of what he procured was for her.

She now dressed in fine silks, wore expensive shoes, displayed jeweled hair clips and necklaces. No matter where Baris took her, what function they attended, she was the center of attention. Men flocked to her like bees toward honey, which both pleased and irritated Baris. She was his and he kept all others at arm's distance. They could certainly look but they couldn't touch. This seemed to be just fine with Deirdre. She made no pretense that Baris was anything other than her partner.

Still, there were times such as this when he sat in the dark of night that the nagging voice of doubt crept into Baris' thoughts. It seemed he should be doing something, going somewhere, but he couldn't clearly remember where. His mind seemed to be in a continual state of muddy confusion, his body always shy of being completely rested. He attributed his condition to his expending a good amount of his energy in magic use to attain the things he wanted. He had long ago forgotten Quentin's warning regarding Deirdre and her magic. He was settling into this city called Timmora and it seemed he would begin building a new life here.

He stood up, drained the last bit of wine from his gla.s.s and turned toward the door. Deirdre slept, exhausted from a day of shopping and an evening spent dancing. Baris studied her a moment, then leaned over and kissed her gently before leaving the room. He went straight to Antyn's room and entered without knocking. He was surprised to find the young man gone.

Until this moment, Antyn had done as ordered, keeping himself where his "master" could find him when the dark settled in. That he wasn't here sent irritation and worry through Baris and he turned his steps toward the streets. A cold wind blew through the city, picking up dirt and debris, sending little dust devils dancing through the night. Baris walked at a steady pace, pulled toward Antyn by his scent.

He found the youth in an alley, surrounded by four other men of varying size and age. One held Antyn by the hair while another pummeled his already-battered face. The other two laughed and encouraged the one beating their victim. Rage gripped Baris. He strode forward, his cloak billowing out behind him.

"Cease!" he bellowed, his voice ringing off the sides of the buildings.

The four men whirled as one. Antyn crumpled to the ground.

"Well," one of the men said, his voice thick and slurred. "What do we have here?"

"That's obvious," another man said. "It's Antyn's purse. And a fine-looking one, at that."

"Is the boy any good in bed?" another jeered.

Baris stopped before them, his fury barely controlled. "What is the meaning of this?"

The men laughed and one gestured at Antyn.

"His prices were a bit too high. We were negotiating."

"Prices for what?"

"Hack, what else? Think any of us wants to bed him?"

"Nah," another put in. "Antyn is yours, pretty boy."

The words snapped Baris into action. He gripped the speaker by the throat and lifted him completely off the ground. The man gagged, his eyes bulging and he clawed at Baris' hands in an attempt to free himself. The other three men backed away, their faces now shocked and frightened.

"Tell me," Baris growled. "Why I should not kill you?"

There was a momentary pause then one of the three men darted forward and buried his dagger in Baris' side.

"Because we're going to kill you first," he returned.

Baris' breath hissed out as pain flared through him. It took only a moment for his Vector magic to heal the wound, however, and then his tightly-held emotions exploded. He hurled the man in his grip against the side of the building with such force the wooden siding splintered. The man convulsed as he slid to the ground, dead.

"Who will kill whom?" Baris raged, fixing his gaze on the three men. They shuffled backward, their eyes wide with terror, as he shed his Illusion and let them see what they truly faced. He narrowed his eyes. "A pity that you will kill your friends, then yourself," he whispered to the one who had stabbed him.

The man went white. His hand lifted and he stared at it as if it no longer belonged to him. His two companions gaped at him and stumbled backward as he turned on them.

"No," one begged. "Come on, stop."

But he could not stop. He slashed with the dagger, opening the throat of the man nearest him. The other screamed in terror as blood spattered him. A moment later it was his own blood that stained his dirty clothes as he futilely tried to staunch its flow from his gaping neck wound. The man with the dagger managed to bring his gaze to meet Baris', but that was his last voluntary movement. He turned the dagger on himself, plunging it to the hilt in his chest. He fell with nary a gasp.

Baris drew a deep breath, almost overwhelmed by the scent of fresh blood. He bent and hauled Antyn to his feet. The youth was barely conscious. Blood covered his face and clothing. Several teeth were missing and blood and saliva oozed from his slack mouth.

"I told you to stay in your room after dark," Baris snapped, his anger overriding his compa.s.sion. "Now, look at you."

Only then did Antyn notice the four bodies. "You...you killed them!"

"They tried to kill me, too," Baris retorted. He dragged Antyn from the alley and back toward the inn.

The youth went with no arguing or struggling. The innkeeper looked up with a gasp as they came through the door.

"By the G.o.ds! What on earth happened to the boy?"

"He was waylaid and robbed by some of this city's more foul citizens," Baris replied.

"Shall I send for a healer?"

Baris shook his head. "No. My companion is a gifted healer. She will take care of his injuries. But, please, send up some soup and tea. That's about all he will be able to take."

The innkeeper nodded and hurried away. Baris helped Antyn up the stairs to his room. Once there, he locked the door.

"Get out of those filthy clothes," he instructed. "I will draw you a bath. Then you will rest and regain your strength."

"Why?" Antyn whined. "So you can keep taking my blood?"

Anger blazed up again and Baris stalked to where the boy stood. He stopped directly before him, forcing Antyn to tip his head back to look at him.

"Yes," he said quietly. "You belong to me now. Don't forget that. Get cleaned up."

The youth averted his gaze and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom. The soup and tea arrived while he was washing and Baris sat down to wait, then just as quickly got up again to pace. He stopped at the window and parted the curtains. All was quiet outside. He wondered what would happen once the bodies of the four men were discovered. He decided he didn't care. He would not be run out of a town again. Not for dispensing justice...even summary justice...to those who deserved it.

He turned and resumed his pacing. He realized he was trembling, his heart racing. His agitation was becoming uncomfortable. He needed to feed.

"Antyn!" he barked. "Be done." There was no answer. He rapped on the bathroom door. "Antyn!" Again, no answer. He turned the handle and opened the door.

Antyn sat on the floor, nude and still wet from his bath. His face was grotesquely swollen from the beating he had taken but his eyes were glazed and dreamy. He gave Baris a lopsided smile. Baris' gaze traveled to the pouch of hack lying on the floor beside him. It was evident that Antyn had used the drug to dull his pain. Baris grimaced, retrieved the pouch and placed it on the shelf outside the door. Then he pulled Antyn to his feet and near-dragged him to the bed. The youth toppled to the sheets with a little groan. He looked up at Baris through half-lidded eyes.

"Are you going to join me?" he slurred. "Am I your boy, Baris?"

Baris started. He sat down on the edge of the bed and with shaking hands pulled the boy to him.

"I want your blood, Antyn," he rasped. "Not your body."

"Are you so sure of that?" Antyn said and reached out to stroke Baris' crotch.

The touch ignited a strange fire within Baris, a fire he didn't know how to interpret. The scent of Antyn's blood was overwhelming him, calling to him. He needed it desperately. His body ached for it. He took a handful of Antyn's hair and pulled the youth's head to the side. The bite was quick and forceful and Baris drank deeply, totally consumed with his powerful, intoxicating response to Antyn's blood. It was a struggle to draw back, to stop the feed, but Baris forced himself away. He needed to save some for later. He needed to give the boy a chance to recover from his beating. He fell back onto the bed as Antyn's blood coursed through him, calming him, relieving his agitation, sweeping him once again to that place of well-being and peace.

Antyn smiled at him, kissed him gently on the lips, then slowly worked his mouth down Baris' throat and chest. Baris was too exhausted and euphoric to care. He merely closed his eyes and let Antyn do as he wished.

A persistent tapping on the door wakened him. It took him a moment to sort out his surroundings, but when he did, he groaned. Antyn lay curled up beside him.

"Baris!" Deirdre's voice came from the hallway. "Baris! Are you in there?"

Baris stumbled from the bed, noticing with a grimace that he was naked. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up his pants and put them on before answering the door. Deirdre stared at him, her eyes widening as she took in the tousled hair, the bare chest and feet. She stepped into the room and swiftly closed the door. Her gaze went at once to the bed, where Antyn lay, unmoving.

"I'm sorry," Baris mumbled before she could say anything. "I must have fallen asleep. I'll get dressed."

"Have you been here all night?"

Her sharp tone made him defensive.

"Most of it. Why?" He picked up his tunic from where it had fallen onto the floor beside the chair.

"Because four bodies were found in an alleyway not far from here. I just wanted to make sure you weren't involved."

Baris grimaced, rubbing his throbbing temples. A little voice nagged in his mind, wondering how Deirdre had known where to find him, and why she so easily accepted the fact that he was in a room with a man. He forced himself to answer her.

"I'm afraid I was involved. I came on them as they were beating Antyn senseless. I stopped them but not before one of them tried to stab me." He touched his side where the wound should have been. All that remained was a faint red line.

Deirdre frowned and looked at Antyn. Her frown deepened and she crossed the room. A loud gasp escaped her and she whirled to face Baris. "Baris! He's dead!"

"What?" Baris joined her. He reached out and shook the youth. "Antyn?"

"He's dead, Baris," Deirdre repeated slowly, as though she wanted to be sure he heard.

"He can't be," Baris muttered. "He was fine last night. I mean, he was pretty well beaten but otherwise he seemed fine." He shook the young man again, his gut tightening in horror. His gaze shot to Deirdre. "I didn't kill him, Deirdre. I didn't!"

Her breath hissed out and she looked around the room. "But who's going to believe that, Baris. Look at his neck. You fed on him, more than once."

"But I didn't kill him," Baris insisted, though he could not clearly remember anything beyond the touch of Antyn's mouth on his lips, his chest, his-- He shuddered and turned away from the too-still body.

Deirdre stood quiet a moment, then reached down and pulled something from the blankets. It was Antyn's hack pouch. She opened it and sniffed the contents. "Is this his?"

"Yes. Why?"

"This is probably what killed him. He must have taken too much. He was probably trying to dull the pain from the beating but between that and your feeding he was too weak." She stared at the pouch thoughtfully for a long moment, then sighed. With a sidelong glance at Baris, she pulled the blankets over Antyn's head. "Come on. We have to get out of here."

"What? No! Deirdre, I can't just leave him here! I have to report this."

"And get hung for murder?" she snapped. She seized his hand and dragged him toward the door.

"But you said yourself that he probably died of an overdose. The hack in that pouch is proof."

"No," she snarled. "Those bite marks on his neck are proof. All of the proof a constable needs to condemn and execute you. Now come on."

Terror gripped Baris and he looked back at the bed. How could this have happened? How could things have gone so wrong? He returned his gaze to Deirdre, noticing that she still held the hack pouch.

"What are you going to do with that? You should leave it here so there's some sort of evidence."

"No. We're going to need this. You're going to need this."

"Why? I don't use that."

She regarded him as she might have done a child who had just said something incredibly stupid. "You're addicted, Baris."

He drew back, stunned at her accusation. "That's ridiculous. I've never even used that!"

"But you fed on Antyn and he did use it. It was in his blood and now it's in yours. We have to wean you from it slowly or you risk dying as well. Now stop arguing and follow me."

Her commanding tone irritated him but at the moment he could think of nothing to say or do in retaliation. He gave the dead youth one last glance, then followed Deirdre into the hallway and back to their room.

CHAPTER 15.

Baris sat down on the log, shivering, then got up again. He wrapped his cloak tighter about his shoulders, only to loosen it again moments later. He couldn't decide if he was hot or cold, tired or full of energy, hungry or satiated. All he was sure of was that his head pounded unceasingly and that he craved the hack that Deirdre was safeguarding.

He let out a frustrated, angry sigh and glanced toward her. She ignored him, keeping her gaze on the meat roasting above the small campfire. He couldn't tell how she felt toward him were right now, but he was plenty disgusted with himself.

They had left Timmora stealthily, creeping out like criminals. Deirdre had been forced to leave most of her finery behind so as to avoid suspicion at the amount of baggage she left the inn carrying. She was now dressed in the traveling leathers Baris had purchased for her, with her cloak thrown about her shoulders. Her hair was plaited, her glittering clips now relegated to the bottom of her pack. Baris' guilt was eating him alive.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the nearest tree.

"I know," she responded, though he hadn't thought she would hear him. "You don't have to keep saying it."

He opened his eyes to look at her, stabbed by the hard undertone in her voice. "Do you think that..."

"No," she cut him off. "It's not time yet, Baris."

He grimaced and looked away. How could he want something so badly? How could his entire body demand a substance that before now had been foreign to it? He didn't understand. He supposed he could force her to give it to him, knew he could, in fact. But, as she had pointed out, it would not help him to do that. He had to be slowly weaned from the drug, given a set dose at set intervals of time. It was just that the wait seemed interminable. He pushed away from the tree and headed towards the woods surrounding them.

"Where are you going?" she demanded sharply.

"I don't know. Just for a walk."

She stood with a sigh.

"Baris, you need to rest," she said, her voice now free of the faint irritation he'd caught in it since they left Timmora. "You're exhausted. You're going to collapse. Come on. Back to the fire. I've made tea. That will take the edge off waiting." She took his hand and drew him after her.

He sat down beside her and accepted the tea mug. After a few sips, he looked into the amber liquid thoughtfully.

"Quentin told me that you spelled me," he stated bluntly. He brought his gaze to hers. "Did you?"

She let out a long, exasperated sigh. "We've been through this, Baris. I told you what I did. I made special teas to help you relax. I gave you extra tending for your depression and emotional upset. That's all."