He glided through the underground chamber, never touching the floor. Gregori examined every inch of the walls. There are two entrances, one leading to a separate chamber hidden in the thickness of the walls, and the other a tunnel constructed with pipe and cement to keep out the water. "The tunnel most likely leads to the outside."

"A bolt hole," she said. "The courtyard?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it, Savannah. Julian would want to head away from the property and people." It seemed inconceivable to him that Julian would want to be in the city to begin with. The Julian Savage he knew was as solitary as he was. He preferred the high places, the mountains.

Solitude.

"So is it booby-trapped?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"I almost wish it was," he said, trying to maintain a straight face. "I do not think I will live it down that you are right in this instance." When she raised her eyebrows and waggled them at him, he gave her satisfaction. "No, it is not." He passed a hand over the smooth wall nearest the courtyard.

A hidden door slid open noiselessly to reveal a chamber large enough for two people to lie in. The interior was beautifully carved with ancient inscriptions. Julian Savage was clearly an artist, the etchings soothing and appealing to the eye. Savannah knew little of the language, but she could tell that what had been wrought was a safeguard of some kind, with healing symbols woven in. The entire effect was one of peace and sanctuary.

Gregori was staring at it, his face impassive but his eyes warm. The real surprise lay beneath a white sheet. Gregori lifted a hand, and the sheet rolled aside.

Savannah's breath caught in her throat, and she stared in astonishment at the richness of the treasure. Soil, lush and dark. The soil from their homeland. The chamber was filled with it, a good six or seven feet deep. Gregori plunged his fingers into the earth. The coolness washed over him, welcomed him. Savannah's hands, too, sank deeply into the earth. It had been five long years since she felt the richness of their soil, felt its healing properties. It whispered to them of comfort, of peace.

"How did he do this?" Savannah smiled up at Gregori, pleased her house had such secrets.

His arm circled her shoulders. "Great patience." A faint smile softened his mouth. "Remember the caskets sent over from Europe when New Orleans was wracked with yellow fever and death? It was rumored for years that they contained vampires, but many obviously contained simply soil from our homeland. Clever of Julian to manage it."

"I wonder how often he stayed here," Savannah ventured softly, letting the soil slide through her fingers. What she really wondered was how much of New Orleans history Julian Savage had been involved in. Humans had long believed that the legendary vampires of their imaginings were rampant in New Orleans. Had Julian's activities over the past two centuries fueled those rumors?

"Do you think that human society headquartered themselves here to hunt him?" she asked.

"That society is becoming a pain in the neck. I need to get word to Mikhail that we did not stamp them out as we thought we had. They seem to be back and stronger than ever. Every thirty years or so they crop up to give us problems."

"Julian must have only discovered them quite recently or he would have told you about them when he was reporting in to you about me." There was a bite to her voice. She was still annoyed that Gregori had had someone watching her. Even more than that, she was annoyed with herself for not sensing another of her kind.

"Julian never exactly reported in to me," Gregori said dryly. "He is not the kind of man to answer to anyone. Julian is like the wind, the wolves. Totally free. He goes his own way. He watched over you, but he did not send me reports. That is not his way."

"He sounds interesting," Savannah murmured.

Instantly Gregori could feel his muscles tighten. That black, nameless rage that made him so dangerous boiled in his gut. He would always live with the fear that he had stolen Savannah from another. That some other Carpathian male held the secret to her heart. That he had condemned another to death or, worse, to becoming the undead, because he had stolen Savannah. Since Gregori had manipulated the outcome of their joining, perhaps there was some other whose chemistry matched hers perfectly. His silver eyes were cold and lethal, small red flames leaping in their depths. "You do not need to find Savage interesting. I would never give you up, Savannah."

"Don't be an idiot, Gregori," she said impatiently. "As if I'd even want some other beast just out of the cave when I've almost got you trained." She held out a hand. "Come on, you have to see the courtyard."

His larger hand swallowed hers. She always seemed to know what to say or do to ease the terrible weight crushing his chest. Though he often wanted to shake her, to kiss her into submission, he also wanted her to be as sassy as she was right at that moment. She was turning his world upside down.

He followed her upstairs, helpless to do anything else. Thick double doors opened onto the courtyard. Savannah was right. It was impressive. The garden was bigger than the house itself.

Plants grew everywhere, a wild collage of green lace and bright blooms. Spanish tile covered the ground in a patchwork patio. Benches and chairs were scattered among the plants and trees, shaded from the sun. Long lounges were arranged in the open, beneath the stars and moon.

Bats dipped and wheeled, feasting on insects in the air. Fragrance from the flowers muted the oppressive pollution from the narrow streets, but nothing could drown out the noise. Music from all directions clashed with the clatter of horse hooves on cobblestones, car horns blaring, and voices raised in laughter, in merriment.

Gregori sorted out the sounds, listened to snippets of conversation, and got a feel for the rhythm of the neighborhood. It would take a few days for him to become comfortable in this environment. He would have liked a chance to explore it on his own beforehand to ensure Savannah's safety. "We need to take a walk," he said abruptly. "I want to see all the entrances and exits, get to know the faces and voices that belong here."

Savannah pushed open the iron gate and stepped out onto the street. A young couple standing on the porch next door stared at them curiously. Savannah sent them a smile and waved happily. The woman raised an arm in answer.

Do not act so friendly, Savannah. You are a celebrity. We will have enough attention drawn to us.

They are our neighbors. Try not to scare them to death, will you? Savannah took his arm, grinning up at him teasingly. "You look as fierce as a member of the Mafia. No wonder our neighbors are staring. People tend to be curious. Wouldn't you be if someone moved in next door to you?"

"I don't abide next-door neighbors. When humans consider building in the vicinity of one of my homes, the neighborhood is suddenly inundated with wolves. It works every time." He sounded menacing.

Savannah laughed at him. "You're such a baby, Gregori. Scared of a little company."

"You scare me to death, woman. Because of you I find myself doing things I know are totally insane. Staying in a house built in a crowded city below sea level. Neighbors on top of us. Human butchers surrounding us."

"Like I'm supposed to believe that would scare you," she said smugly, knowing his only worry was for her safety, not his. They turned a corner and headed toward the famous Bourbon Street.

"Try to look less conspicuous," he instructed.

A dog barked, rushed to the end of its lead, and bared its teeth. Gregori turned his head and hissed, exposing white fangs. The dog stopped its aggression instantly, yelped in alarm, and retreated whining.

"What are you doing?" Savannah demanded, outraged.

"Getting a feel for the place," he said absently, his mind clearly on other matters, his senses tuned to the world around him. "Everyone is crazy here, Savannah. You are going to fit right in." He ruffled her hair affectionately.

She stopped abruptly, her smile fading, her hand slipping from his arm. Gregori's head went up alertly, automatically scanning the area for enemies. "What is it?"

Savannah did an about-face and turned the corner, walking slowly up the street. Savannah, you will answer me. What is it you sense that I do not? Gregori caught at her arm, physically stopping her. His fingers shackled her wrist, his body all at once close and protective. Answer me, or I will force you to go back to the house.

Shh. I'm trying to concentrate. I've never really done this before. Even in her mind she was very distracted.

Gregori merged with her so that he could feel her thoughts, know whatever it was that she was feeling. It was a compulsion of sorts, not one their race commonly used, a drawing toward some place. Of power? He tried to tune it in. Not power. To evil. Something very evil.

Once more his hand tightened on her wrist and brought her to a halt. There were several homes on the street, but farther down the block the residences gave way to stores. One was a voodoo shop.

He concentrated on that, listening intently to the conversation between a tourist and one who worked inside. There was a suggestion of power, of magic, but certainly not the taint of evil.

Two buildings down from the voodoo shop. Savannah's voice brushed at his mind.

It is not on Julian's list, Gregori answered, but he believed her. He felt it through her. Raven Dubrinsky had obviously passed on her psychic talents to her daughter.

They linked hands and strolled casually along the street, seemingly enjoying the night air, mingling with the tourists and those who made their homes there. The majority of the revelers were in the heart of the Quarter, along Bourbon Street, farther down, lining up to get into Preservation Hall. Savannah and Gregori moved along the narrow walkway, pausing to allow a horse-drawn carriage to pass. The occupants of the conveyance were laughing and listening to the sing-song voice of their guide describing points of interest with a few local myths thrown in.

Two young men drinking beer on the steps of a closed bookstore across the street fixed their eyes on Savannah. Even from that distance Gregori could see their instant fixation, the obsession she so easily produced in men. It was in the way she moved, her flowing hair and enormous eyes, her aura, at once innocent and sexy. There was no hope that they would not recognize her. She embodied magic and fantasy.

Gregori sighed heavily, his gut tightening. She was going to drive him crazy and maybe get some innocent drunk killed. The two men had risen, whispering excitedly, working up their courage to approach her. He could hear them pumping each other up. He fixed his silver eyes on them and concentrated briefly. He wiped their thoughts away and planted in them an urgency to leave the area immediately.

"Do me a favor, cherie. Try to look plain and uninteresting."

Savannah laughed softly in spite of her growing sense of dread. "Get over it already," she suggested.

"You are more than disrespectful, woman. I cannot remember a single time in my existence when anyone spoke to me as you do."

She rubbed her cheek along his shoulder in a small caress. Gregori's breath seemed to still in his throat.

"That's why I do it. You need someone to give you a little trouble." Her teasing tone slid over him, into him, the tiny threads that tied them together multiplying every moment.

"I would not mind a little trouble. You are big trouble."

They were in front of the building Savannah had mentally pinpointed as the source of the disturbing emanations. It was closed, the windows dark. Gregori could feel movement inside, sense the presence of several men within the walls.

Savannah clutched at him, her eyes filling with tears. "Something horrible is happening in there, Gregori. There is-" She broke off as his hands closed like a vise around her upper arms.

Gregori gave her a little shake. "Hang on, ma petite. I know exactly what is going on. She is not one of us."

"I know that. I'm not entirely incompetent." There was a mixture of anger and tears in her voice.

"She's human, but they think she's vampire. Gregori, she's just a child. You can't let them harm her. I can feel her pain."

"She is older than you, bebe, and she parades around in a black cloak with her incisors cosmetically altered. She put herself in the hands of these madmen through her own stupidity."

Gregori sounded disgusted.

"She doesn't deserve to be tortured because she likes to play at being a vampire. Let's get her out."

Savannah's blue eyes flashed fire at him. "We both know you're going to save her, so quit grousing, and let's get to it."

"I will not allow such a thing, Savannah," he said softly. His voice was a beautiful blend of iron in a velvet glove. "Do not try my patience too far, ma petite. I assure you, there is no chance of your winning a battle between us."

"Shut up," she snapped rudely, exasperated with his domineering ways. "I know you're not going to leave the girl in there. I can feel her terror, Gregori, and it's making me sick."

"I knew you were going to be trouble the moment I laid eyes on you," he said softly. "I will not risk your safety for some woman who masquerades as a vampire. She chooses to pretend she is like them. I intend to help her, but not with you alone on the street."

Her breath hissed through her teeth. "I am at full strength, Gregori. I can be invisible should I choose to walk among the humans unseen. I don't need to cower in my house because you're afraid for me." Her chin lifted at him belligerently. "I am the daughter of the Prince. I can manage to do a few things others of our kind can do."

His hand caught and spanned her throat. "I will do almost anything for you, Savannah, but how I must complete this task is distasteful." He found himself explaining, as she had requested, when his every aggressive male instinct told him to simply force his will on her. He could not bear for her to believe he thought so little of her abilities. "I do not want you to witness the depravity in these men's minds, nor do I wish you to witness the wind of death whirling through their midst. You cannot have it both ways. You want me to save this woman. I will do so. But not within your sight.

Go home and wait for me there."

Savannah shook her head. "When will you get it through your thick skull that I'm your true lifemate? Me. Savannah Dubrinsky, daughter of the Prince. We shared our minds from before my birth. You can't hide from me what you are, who you are. Even in the midst of blood and death, even with the beast at work, I will always see your true self."

"Do as I command you. And know this. If for any reason you choose to disobey my orders, you will be putting the woman's life in jeopardy. I will always see to your safety first. That means if I am distracted by your defiance, I will see to your obedience."

"You are the most stubborn Carpathian male alive," she said, exasperated, but she caught his head between her hands and dragged him down to capture his mouth with hers. "Be safe, lifemate. That is my command to you. Be certain you do not disobey my order."

She turned and glided away, back the way they had come, without so much as a glance over her shoulder. Her hips swayed gently, erotically. The rising wind played with her long hair. Gregori watched her, unable to tear his gaze away.

Chapter Eleven

Finally Gregori turned his head slowly, ferally, and walked purposefully toward the narrow alley beside the building. Brown grass, dried and exhausted with its effort to flourish, was crushed beneath his feet, but there was not a sound to betray his presence, not even the disbursement of air. Once he was hidden from sight, he scanned the area to determine the exact placement of all those in the building and any other humans in the vicinity.

He dissolved instantly, one moment solid, the next invisible. He checked the building: all windows and doors were locked securely. The woman inside screamed, agony, terror, in her voice. The sound brushed at his mind, but he blocked it out, scanning three entry points to the interior. He chose the one beneath the building, through some cracked and crumbling rotted boards.

For a brief moment his image shimmered in the dark, compressing as it did so, shrinking smaller and smaller until a only little mouse nestled in the dried grass. It sat up on its hind legs a moment, whiskers twitching in the air. Then it rushed across the dirt and grass and scampered through a small crack beneath the stairs. The opening was narrow, but the little creature was able to squeeze into a space within the walls.

The insulation was old and thin, most of it long gone, and the mouse scurried quickly through the wall until it found a small knothole leading into a darkened room. The smell of blood and fear made its heart pound, but the predator deep within its tiny body snarled, exposing fangs and a dark, deadly purpose. The mouse hesitated before crossing the yellowed linoleum, its ears twisting this way and that, whiskers high, scenting for danger.

There was no one in the first room, which appeared to be an unused storage area. It smelled musty with mildew. Gregori's form grew, solidified, then shimmered into nothingness once again. He could hear the conversation from the next room clearly. Three men were arguing, one clearly disgusted by what they were doing.

"This girl is no more vampire than I am, Rodney," he snapped. "You just like doing this sick stuff.

This one's some kid who likes to hang out with her friends pretending she's got fangs."

"We don't know that for sure," Rodney protested. "And since we have to kill her anyway, it isn't like we can't have a good time with her."

"Forget it." There was disgust in the first man's voice. "No way am I going to let you kill this girl. I thought we were scientists. Even if she really was a vampire, we shouldn't treat her like this. I'm taking her out of here and to a hospital."

"Morrison will kill you," Rodney bit out, all at once angry. "You're not taking her anywhere. We'll all be arrested. You, too-don't forget that. You're a part of this, Gary, you're a big part of this."

"No, I'm not. And if it comes down to that-killing an innocent girl or going to jail-I'll take jail."

Gregori could feel the impending violence, coming not from Rodney but from the third man, the silent one, in the room. He was stalking Gary from behind while Rodney held Gary's attention. The girl was trying desperately to warn Gary, her only hope, that he was in danger.

Gregori felt power in the room. Manipulation. Compulsion. There was more at work here than the society of human butchers. He glided unseen into the room, dispersing cold air in his wake. The third man held an already blood-stained knife out of sight along his right wrist as he came up behind Gary. Gregori inserted his invisible body between the two men. As the knife came up toward Gary's kidney, Gregori caught the attacker's wrist in an unbreakable grip and squeezed, crushing bones to a fine powder.

The attacker screamed, the knife clattering to the floor. Gary whirled around to face the third man.

Rodney dove for the knife. The girl was so hysterical, Gregori could feel her heart pounding, hear it slamming at far too fast a pace. He spared her quick attention, shielding her from further thought. She simply slipped into an unconscious state, her eyes open and glazed.

Rodney picked up the knife and scrambled to his feet. "Looks like we're going to have to kill you, too, huh, Gary?"

Gregori sighed. Why did they always have to state the obvious?

Gary was backing away, trying to keep an eye on the third man, who had dropped to his knees, clutching his shattered arm, his face as white as a sheet. He was still screaming, a high-pitched, monotonous cry.

Gary slid the white lab jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it defensively around his upraised arm. "I'm not going to let you hurt her any more, Rodney. I mean it. This was supposed to be a legitimate study. Dissecting anyone alive, vampire or human, is torture, nothing less. I didn't sign on to hurt anyone."

"What do you think that poison you developed was all about?" Rodney snarled, waving the knife.

"I didn't develop a poison. I developed a very potent tranquilizer, designed to sedate nearly any powerful creature. Morrison had you people corrupt the original formula. I came here to talk to him about it. This is murder, Rodney. Any way you look at it, it's murder."

Gregori glided up behind Rodney. The man's mind stank of a vampire influence. He had thought himself protected from vampires by the hypnosis all members of the society were subjected to, but somehow a vampire had infiltrated their ranks and was contaminating the society further with his own depravity. It was the kind of thing vampires over the centuries had done for entertainment.

Hiding their true nature, they would befriend humans and slowly bring about moral decay. Often they used the women of the human males they befriended for their own pleasure, later killing them. Sometimes they used the humans to kill each other. Clearly a master vampire was at work here, one that had escaped the net of hunters for some time, probably centuries.

Gregori touched Gary's mind. He found honesty there, integrity. He had never had contact with the vampire and was willing to die to save the girl strapped down on the stainless-steel table. He had interrupted the two other men at work and was sickened by their actions. But Gregori knew Gary would have no chance against a vampire-induced compulsion in the other man to kill. Rodney would win this battle. For a moment Gregori hesitated. If he intervened, he would allow Gary to live, but he would have to destroy Rodney. If he allowed things to take their course, Rodney could lead him back to the vampire's lair.

I know you're not even thinking that. Savannah's outraged whisper was velvet-soft in his mind.