"The noise is part of the fun and the quiet after part of the reward."

"Did you ever want to do anything else, or did you grow up with a burning desire to manage a bowling alley?"

"Family fun center," he corrected. "We have an arcade-pinball, skee-ball, video games, and a section for kids under six. We do private parties-birthday parties, bachelor parties, wedding receptions-"

"Wedding receptions?"

"Sure. Bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs, anniversaries, corporate parties."

Definitely meat for an article, she realized. "A lot of arms on one body."

"You could say that."

"So why aren't you married and raising the next generation of Bowl-a-Rama kingpins, pun intended."

"Love has eluded me."

"Aw."

Despite the biting cold, it was pleasant to walk beside a man who naturally fit his stride to hers, to watch the clouds of their breath puff out, then merge together before the wind tore them to nothing.

He had an easy way about him and killer eyes, so there were worse things than feeling her toes go numb with cold in boots she knew were more stylish than practical.

"Are you going to be around if I think of some pertinent question to ask you tomorrow?"

"'Round and about," he told her. "I can give you my cell phone number if-"

"Wait." She dug into her bag and came out with her own phone. Still walking, she punched a few keys. "Shoot."

He rattled it off. "I'm aroused by a woman who not only immediately finds what she's looking for in the mysterious depths of her purse, but who can skillfully operate electronic devices."

"Is that a sexist remark?"

"No. My mother always knows where everything is, but is still defeated by the universal remote. My sister Jen can operate anything from a six-speed to a wireless mouse, but can never find anything without a twenty-minute hunt, and my other sister, Marly, can't find anything, ever, and gets intimidated by her electric can opener. And here you are, stirring me up by being able to do both."

"I've always been a siren." She tucked her phone back in her bag as they turned to the steps leading to the long front porch of the hotel. "Thanks for the escort."

"No problem."

There was one of those beats; she recognized it. Both of them wondering, did they shake hands, just turn and go, or give in to curiosity and lean into a kiss.

"Let's stay to the safe road for now," she decided. "I admit, I like the look of your mouth, but moving on that's bound to tangle things up before I really get started on what brought me here."

"It's a damn shame you're right about that." He dipped his hands into his pockets. "So I'll just say good night. I'll wait, make sure you get inside."

"Good night." She walked up the steps to the door, eased it open. Then glanced back to see him standing, hands still in his pockets, with the old-fashioned streetlight spotlighting him.

Oh, yeah, she thought, it was a damn shame.

"See you soon."

He waited until the door shut behind her, then taking a couple of steps, studied the windows of the second and third floor. She'd said her window faced Main Street, but he wasn't sure what level she was on.

After a few moments, a light flashed on in a second-floor window, telling him Quinn was safe in her room.

He turned and had taken two steps when he saw the boy. He stood on the sidewalk half a block down. He wore no coat, no hat, no protection against the bite of wind. The long stream of his hair didn't stir in it.

His eyes gleamed, eerily red, as his lips peeled back in a snarl.

Cal heard the sound inside his head while ice balled in his belly.

Not real, he told himself. Not yet. A projection only, like in the dreams. But even in the dreams, it could hurt you or make you think you were hurt.

"Go back where you came from, you bastard." Cal spoke clearly, and as calmly as his shaken nerves would allow. "It's not your time yet."

When it is, I'll devour you, all of you, and everything you hold precious.

The lips didn't move with the words, but stayed frozen in that feral snarl.

"We'll see who feels the bite this round." Cal took another step forward.

And the fire erupted. It spewed out of the wide brick sidewalk, fumed across the street in a wall of wild red. Before he could register that there was no heat, no burn, Cal had already stumbled back, thrown up his hands.

The laughter rang in his head, as wild as the flames. Then both snapped off.

The street was quiet, the brick and buildings unmarred. Tricks up his sleeve, Cal reminded himself. Lots of tricks up his sleeve.

He made himself stride forward, through where the false fire had run. There was a strong acrid odor that puffed then vanished like the vapor of his own breath. In that instant he recognized it.

Brimstone.

UPSTAIRS IN THE ROOM THAT MADE HER BLISSFULLYhappy with its four-poster bed and fluffy white duvet, Quinn sat at the pretty desk with its curved legs and polished surface writing up the day's notes, data, and impressions on her laptop.

She loved that there were fresh flowers in the room, and a little blue bowl of artfully arranged fresh fruit. The bath held a deep and delightful claw-foot tub and a snowy white pedestal sink. There were thick, generous towels, two bars of soap, and rather stylish minibottles of shampoo, body cream, and bath gel.

Instead of boring, mass-produced posters, the art on the walls were original paintings and photos, which the discreet note on the desk identified as works by local artists available at Artful, a shop on South Main.

The room was full of homey welcoming touches,and provided high-speed Internet access. She made a note to reserve the same room after her initial week was up, for the return trips she planned in April, then again in July.

She'd accomplished quite a bit on her first day, which was a travel day on top of it. She'd met two of the three focal players, had an appointment to hike to the Pagan Stone. She'd gotten a feel for the town, on the surface in any case. And had, she believed, a personal experience with the manifestation of an unidentified (as yet) force.

And she had the bare bones for a bowling article that should work for her friends atDetour .

Not bad, especially when you added in she'd dined sensibly on the grilled chicken salad in the hotel dining room, hadnot given in to temptation and inhaled an entire pizza but had limited herself to half a slice. And she'd bowled a strike.

On the personal downside, she supposed, as she shut down to prepare for bed, she'd also resisted the temptation to lock lips with the very appealing Caleb Hawkins.