"It's only a couple hours till dawn. Where are we gonna go?"

Ziggy stooped and lifted Nathan by the arms. "My van. Get his legs."

I complied, and we shuffled toward the door, Nathan hanging between us like a jump rope.

Ziggy hacked against his shoulder. "This reminds me of the scene in Return of the Jedi where the Ewoks take Han and Luke and Chewie prisoner and tie them to those big sticks."

"Conserve your oxygen. I can't carry you both out."

The night air had turned freezing. The phrase "too cold to snow" sprung to mind. I slid on the sidewalk and collided painfully with the brick wall of the building. Ziggy eased Nathan to the ground and opened the back of the van.

I peered over the iron railing to look down at the bookstore. The glass in the door had been broken, and foul-smelling smoke poured out. My mind raced with thoughts of the building burning to the ground and where we'd go to wait out daylight. We didn't have time to gather Nathan's things. His goldfish. His wedding picture.

I thought of how Nathan had rescued my diploma and the photo of my parents from my burning apartment. Those were still upstairs, too. But the sirens of approaching fire engines squashed any notion of knickknack heroism.

"Get him in the back," Ziggy urged, picking Nathan up by the shoulders. With a count of three, we swung him into the van and slammed the door.

"Click it or ticket," Ziggy reminded me, pointing to the seat belt as I climbed into the passenger seat.

As the fire trucks rounded the block, he started the engine and guided the van down the street at an inconspicuous pace.

"What did she do to him?" he asked, jerking his thumb toward the heavy tarp curtain that sectioned off the back of the van.

"I don't know. He just fell over. Bam." I threw my hands up in despair. "I don't get it." Ziggy eyed me suspiciously. "Dahlia showing up in his living room isn't the kind of thing Nate would miss."

I shifted in my seat. "He was preoccupied."

"Ah." He at least had the courtesy not to reach back and high-five Nathan's motionless hand.

"So what do we do now?" I asked, looking fearfully at the lightening sky. "Can we fix him?"

"Not if we don't know what it is she did to him." He kept his eyes on the road. "Do you know where to find Dahlia?"

I did. Behind the divider, Nathan moaned in pain. I closed my eyes. "Turn right at the next light."

I found my way back to Cyrus's mansion with little trouble. The wrought-iron gate was shut. "Let me out here."

"Does the guy I think lives here live here?" Ziggy asked as he put the van in Park. "You want me to wait?"

I pushed the heavy door open and stepped onto the curb. "Yeah. If I'm not back before sunup, get someplace safe."

"Why, it's not like he can come out and get me or anything."

Casting my gaze up the lawn, I saw five of Cyrus's bodyguards filing out the door. "No, but he's got those guys."

"Holy shit." Ziggy's jaw dropped as he watched them through the driver's-side window. "You're not really going up there, are you?"

"I have to," I said, sounding braver than I felt. As I turned away from the van, the strangest urge came over me to look at Nathan one more time. I forced it away.

Here goes nothing. I kicked the iron gate open and headed up the driveway. The guards didn't move, letting me come to them.

But once I got near enough, I was ready.

Two of the goons came toward me with arms outstretched. I stood still until they got close enough to seize me.

I didn't think. I just moved.

Lunging forward, I drove the heel of my right hand as hard as I could into the first guard's nose. There was a sickening crunch sound followed by a rush of blood that cascaded down his lips as he doubled over. While he clutched his face, I brought my knee up forcefully into his crotch. He howled in agony and fell to the ground.

The second one tried to grab me from behind. His hands closed on my arms and I flipped him forward, over my head. Then I twisted his arms in opposite directions until I heard bones snap.

I had no time to regroup before the third guard came at me. I dropped down and swung my leg in a wide arc, sweeping his feet from beneath him. As soon as he stumbled to the grass, I wrung his leg and popped the knee out of joint.

The other two guards stood frozen in shock. The scent of blood from the first guard's injuries stung my nostrils. My face shifted and I snarled at them.

"Either come down here so I can kill you, or go get Cyrus!"

But my request proved unnecessary. Cyrus stepped from the doorway, clapping his hands.

"Wonderful," he said like a proud parent. "A little predictable. Not enough blood, but overall a fine debut. I can't wait to see what kind of a killer you'll become." He motioned to the two uninjured bodyguards, then to the three who lay groaning on the lawn.

Two more came out and helped the injured back inside."I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not here for an evaluation," I said, my features morphing back to normal. "I'm looking for Dahlia."

"I thought I'd see you again tonight. Please, come in." He gestured to the door and I followed him cautiously.

The foyer was pitch-black. The only guide I had was the soft slap of his bare feet hitting the marble floor.

I felt empowered by the battle outside, and weird fantasies of carnage ran through my head. I realized that if I made my move now, I could kill Cyrus before he knew what was happening. I took a few silent steps closer.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

His words jarred me. "Do what?"

His laughter filled the darkness and sent a chill up my spine. "You've just gravely injured three of my employees. I'm sure you think you're a real hero, but they were human. Fighting a vampire is another thing entirely, and I can assure you I'd come out on top." He turned, and though there was no discernible light source in the room, his eyes glittered. "But I can promise you, you'd enjoy it."

Moron. Of course he'd heard my thoughts through the blood tie. As charged up as I was, he probably sensed my adrenaline from across town.

I heard the clank of metal on metal and the scrape of a door as it opened. Light spilled through the wide double doors and we entered what appeared to be a study.

A fire burned in the massive stone fireplace and a Persian carpet dominated the floor. Cyrus moved around the room and lit a pair of Tiffany lamps with a pull of their chains.

"Very art deco."

He smiled. "I'm glad you like it. Please, sit down."

I sank into the leather couch in front of the fire. "I didn't say I liked it."

He laughed and sat next to me. Too close. He put one arm companionably around my shoulder and stroked my neck with his long fingernails, tracing my scar. My pulse quickened, but not from fear.

Get it together, Carrie. You managed to resist him before. Stay focused.

"Don't you love this carpet?" he asked, pointing to the ornate rug beneath us. "When they weave these, they always put one intentional mistake in. Do you know why?"

I didn't answer.

"Because only Allah can make perfection." He sighed softly. "I've studied this one over and over, and I've never been able to find the imperfection."

"What's your point?"

"The rug reminds me of you. You would be perfect, were it not for one minor flaw." He tickled my ear with a long talon and I shivered.

"What's that?" I asked. He leaned in, his icy breath hissing in my ear. "Your humanity."

Drawing back, he tented his fingers in front of his chest. "Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

"I have." I wasn't lying.

"And?"

"And I'm still undecided. But I'm not going to give up my humanity, even if I choose you."

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong. Killing for pleasure is wrong." I fixed him with a cold stare. "I heard what you did to that little girl."

"Which one?" He winked at me. "I wonder, have you even bothered to seek out others of our kind to ask them what they think of your idealistic Movement? There's a war coming. Do you honestly think you're on the winning side?"

"I'm not going to be on the side that gets off on murder. That's all that matters to me."

His face became solemn. "Carrie, you're making yourself a martyr when I could make you a queen."

His distress seemed real. The look in his eyes was enough to make me promise I would reconsider. I wiped a bloody tear from his cheek and a smile touched his lips.

"Stay with me, Carrie," he whispered against my palm.

I quickly moved my hand away from his face. My fingers burned from our contact, and I shuddered with rage. "I'm here for Dahlia."

"What on earth would you want with Dahlia? Aside from that deplorable fire incident, for which she's been thoroughly punished, anything she's done, she's done under my orders. If you want to punish someone, then by all means, punish me." A wicked grin lit his face.

I didn't give him the pleasure of a reaction. "You sent Dahlia to kill me?"

Rage contorted his face. "What?"

"I'm sorry, did I stutter? She tried to kill me. And I don't appreciate it."

His frown deepened, this time in confusion. "If she'd tried to kill you, you'd be dead by now. She's very good at what she does."

"Well, she missed." I stood and crossed to the floor-length windows. The curtains were not yet drawn, so he wasn't concerned about daylight any time soon. I'd never actually watched a sunrise, so I had no idea how long they took. Or, more important, at what point it would kill me. I've got to get back to Nathan.

"Ah, you've met Mr.-what is he going by these days? Grant?"

I silently cursed myself. I hadn't meant to think of him in Cyrus's presence.

There was no point in lying. "Yes."

"And I presume he's told you about our past...involvement?" Cyrus fought to control his anger as he spoke, but I still felt it through the blood tie. "No wonder you're on this...pro-human bent."

I held firm, despite the volatile emotions invading my mind. "He told me he was sent to execute you. He told me you have the same blood."

"We do. I didn't sire him, but I was there when my sire turned him. We're hardly on brotherly terms now." Cyrus stood and paced the room. "So Nolen is dead, is he? I'm glad to hear it, even if I didn't do it myself."

Nolen? "He's not dead. But I need Dahlia to reverse whatever she did to him."

Cyrus laughed as though I'd told a clever joke. He pulled two cigars out of a mahogany humidor and offered one to me. I refused.

"I want him dead, Carrie. Why on earth would I help him?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." My reply sounded embarrassingly weak to my ears.

"But, Carrie, didn't you just accuse me of killing for pleasure?" He lit the cigar and took a few puffs.

I tried not to gag as the sickly sweet smoke assailed my nostrils. "Change my opinion. Give me Dahlia."

He moved toward me. I sensed what he was about to do and braced myself.

He reached out too fast for me to step aside, his cigar dropping to the expensive carpet. One arm wound around my waist and brought me up tight against his chest. He pulled my hair, jerking my head back sharply.

"I want to make something clear so we don't have any further misunderstandings. I don't care what your opinion of me is. At the end of the day, it's still my blood in your veins. I own you."

"No!" My instincts told me to get free, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing I feared him.

He leaned forward, nuzzling my throat with his lips. The cigar still burned at our feet. It gave me something to focus on besides the feeling of his tongue against my skin.

"Your carpet is going to catch fire."

I stepped back, and to my surprise, he let me go. I didn't know if I'd have had the will to fight him. Without even looking at it, he ground out the cigar with the ball of his bare foot.

Swallowing hard, I looked him in the eye. "If you let Nathan die, the Movement will send someone else, someone stronger.

They'll hunt you down like a dog. And I don't want that to happen."

"Don't you?" A menacing joy spread across his face. It did nothing to calm my nerves.

"No, I don't." My mouth went suddenly dry at the realization I meant what I said. "You're my sire."

He shrugged as if it were out of his hands. "Well, we can't have Nolen coming after me. You saw what he managed the last time.

And I don't like fighting. It's ungentlemanly. Can you think of anything that could entice me to take such an ugly risk?"