His and Loretta's.

But their gift, he knew, was far more valuable to the Dark Man than that of Kelly and Michael.

The Dark Man valued babies more highly than anything else.

And though Jonas and Loretta had not yet produced a child of their own to give to the Dark Man, they had been honored in being allowed to present the baby in Loretta's arms to him.

In fact, they might even be allowed to keep this baby and raise it in their own house, the house he and Loretta had moved into last year after his grandfather had died.

He and Loretta weren't married yet, but that would come. As soon as Loretta was pregnant, there would be a special ceremony here on the island, in front of the altar of the Circle, and the Dark Man would marry them.

But not until Loretta was pregnant, for the Dark Man never allowed his children to marry until they had proved their faith in him by making him a baby.

Making him a baby, and presenting it to him the night after its birth.

That, Jonas knew, was why George Coulton had been released from the Circle. Even now, Jonas didn't think of George as having died, for Jonas, like all the Dark Man's children, believed that George had been born in the darkness of death, and that only by serving the Dark Man, and obeying him, could life finally be given to him.

For the baby in Loretta's arms, the long journey toward life was about to begin. Tonight the baby would be inducted into the Circle, and the Dark Man himself would take him, nurturing him for the first months of his life. Then the baby would be given to one of the Women of the Circle, who would raise him in the knowledge that he was different from children beyond the Circle.

Someday, if his obedience was perfect-as perfect as Jonas's had always been-and if he fathered new children for the Dark Man-as Jonas intended to do-Jonas would be released from the Circle.

He would join the others.

Jonas knew who some of them were. Important men, men who didn't live like swamp rats. And when it was time, and if he was worthy, he, too, would benefit from the Circle's gift.

But if he wasn't worthy, if he disobeyed the Dark Man...

An image of George Coulton flashed into his mind, but evaporated almost instantly.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the Dark Man speak his name.

With Loretta at his side, he stepped out of the semicircle around the fire and moved toward the altar where the Dark Man waited.

Jonas c.o.x took the baby from Loretta Jagger and placed it into the Dark Man's waiting arms.

The Dark Man turned to face the altar, holding the baby high. "Jonas c.o.x and Loretta Jagger offer this child. Do you accept him?"

The voices of the children again spoke as one. "We do."

The Dark Man placed the baby on the altar, unwrapping the blanket in which it was wrapped. It lay in the light of the candles, naked, reaching out with its tiny hands, its eyes blinking in the flickering glow.

Again the Dark Man reached beneath his cloak, and when his hand was once more revealed to the watching children, it held an ornately carved instrument, its handle worked from ivory, from which protruded a glistening needle.

The Dark Man held the device high, poised it over the infant's breast, then began to bring it downward. There was a long silence as he held the needle still, but then he plunged it suddenly downward.

The child uttered a scream as the point pa.s.sed through its skin, then pierced its sternum to sink deep within its chest.

But as the needle found its mark, the baby's scream died away, a sigh drifting up from its throat when the Dark Man's dagger entered into the core of its being.

Though its body remained unharmed, the baby's spirit began to die, impaled on the tip of the Dark Man's weapon.

As the child's sigh died away, the Dark Man unscrewed the ivory handle, leaving the needle in place.

When he was finished, he held the baby high. "Behold your brother," he said to the gathered children. "Care for him, as I have cared for you."

The ceremony was over.

In her room in the clinic, Amelie Coulton woke up screaming. In her dreams, she had just seen her baby.

And her baby was not dead.

It was in pain, and it needed her.

10.

"I just wish I knew what to do," Mary Anderson told Ted the next morning. She was standing in front of her sink in the master bathroom, gazing dispiritedly at her own image. "I must have been awake until after three." The lack of sleep showed: there were dark circles under her eyes, and the skin beneath her chin seemed to be sagging. Her eyes shifted to her husband, who was watching her studying herself, a small grin playing around the corners of his mouth. "Well, I'm sorry," Mary groused. "But it's not easy lying awake worrying about your daughter all night, then getting up at dawn to fix breakfast for your husband. It ages a girl." just wish I knew what to do," Mary Anderson told Ted the next morning. She was standing in front of her sink in the master bathroom, gazing dispiritedly at her own image. "I must have been awake until after three." The lack of sleep showed: there were dark circles under her eyes, and the skin beneath her chin seemed to be sagging. Her eyes shifted to her husband, who was watching her studying herself, a small grin playing around the corners of his mouth. "Well, I'm sorry," Mary groused. "But it's not easy lying awake worrying about your daughter all night, then getting up at dawn to fix breakfast for your husband. It ages a girl."

"Not that much," Ted observed, playfully reaching out to pinch her rump. But his smile quickly faded. "Maybe we should have talked to her when she came in last night."

Mary's brows arched. "On that one, I have to agree with your father. You know how she can get, and the last thing I wanted last night was to set her off. I wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all."

"Do you want me to talk to her this morning?"

Mary hesitated. A month ago she would have said yes, but now she wasn't sure. What if Kelly thought they'd been spying on her? But wasn't keeping track of your daughter part of being a mother? She'd thought things couldn't get any worse after Kelly's suicide attempt, but she was no longer so sure.

For a month she'd felt as though she was walking on eggs, doing her best to make Kelly feel good about herself, but always worrying that something was going to happen, something that would set Kelly off again. And if Kelly thought they were watching her...

Anger roiled up in her. Why shouldn't shouldn't they be watching her? They were worried about her! And Kelly had said nothing about going out last night. All she'd said was that she was going up to bed. they be watching her? They were worried about her! And Kelly had said nothing about going out last night. All she'd said was that she was going up to bed.

But she'd sneaked out.

Mary probably wouldn't have found out about it all if it hadn't been for the fan. When she'd stopped at Kelly's door on her way to bed, she'd only peeked in, planning to say good night if her daughter was still awake. In the dim glow of the moonlight she'd seen Kelly in bed, apparently sound asleep, and had been about to close the door when she noticed how hot and stuffy the room was.

Though the window was wide open, Kelly hadn't turned the fan on, and there wasn't a breath of movement in the warm night air.

So Mary had reached for the switch in the darkness, but her fingers had found the wrong one. The light had gone on instead, and she'd instantly realized that the form in the bed wasn't Kelly at all.

It was only some pillows stuffed under the sheet.

She'd told Ted and his father about it, and Ted had wanted to call the police immediately. Carl, though, had suggested that they wait. "How's she going to feel if you send the cops after her? And Villejeune's not like Atlanta. There's just not that much trouble she can get into." Finally he had suggested a compromise. "It's a little after eleven now. Let's wait until midnight. If she's not home by then, we'll decide what to do."

Mary had reluctantly agreed, certain they were simply putting off the inevitable by an hour. But just before midnight they heard footsteps on the stairs outside, and Carl had smiled at her. "See? She's back. Nothing to worry about."

The comment rankled more in retrospect than when Carl had uttered it. What did he mean, nothing to worry about? Kelly had been gone for almost four hours, and they hadn't a clue as to where she'd been or what she'd been doing. And it had kept Mary awake most of the night, wondering.

At last she made up her mind. "We'll both talk to her," she decided. "We'll let her know that we certainly don't mind her going out, but that we want to know where she's going, and who she's with." Which, she thought but didn't say, will get us one of Kelly's patented glares, and a complaint about invading her privacy. And maybe it was true, she reflected as she splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to wash away her sleepiness. Things had changed since she was a girl. She'd never even thought about going out without telling her mother where she'd be. But nowadays a lot of parents simply didn't seem to care.

But Mary did.

When she got downstairs a few minutes later, Carl was already at the table, finishing the breakfast he'd made for himself. "I'm sorry," Mary apologized. "I'm afraid I didn't sleep very well last night."

Carl shrugged, his attention still focused on the morning paper. "No problem. After this many years, I guess I'm used to fending for myself." Only when Kelly came in a few minutes later did he push the paper aside. "There's my angel!" he boomed, but as he saw the pallor in Kelly's face his words trailed off. "Kelly?" he said. "You okay?"

Hearing the change in her father-in-law's tone, Mary turned to look at her daughter. Kelly, as usual, was dressed in a black turtleneck and torn jeans, her ears decorated with an array of the jewelry that Mary suspected Kelly wore more as a way of irritating her elders than because she really liked it. But this morning she seemed to have put on some makeup that made her complexion look absolutely pasty, and her eyes were glazed over, almost as if she wasn't aware of where she was.

Drugs.

The word flashed into Mary's mind instantly. But she rejected the idea as quickly as it came to her. To the best of her knowledge-and over the last few weeks, it had become intimate-one problem Kelly had never suffered from was drugs. "Kelly, what is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Kelly's eyes instantly focused, but as she sat down at the table, she shook her head. "I-I just don't feel very good, I guess. I didn't sleep very well."

"Perhaps you would have, if you'd been in bed before midnight." As soon as she uttered the words, Mary regretted them, knowing that not only her comment, but the archness in her voice would undoubtedly set Kelly off. But Kelly's reaction surprised her.

"Midnight?" she echoed. "But we didn't-"

"We?" Despite her good intentions, Mary's voice cracked like a whip. "Who were you with?"

Kelly's face reddened. "A-A boy I met yesterday."

Kelly had said nothing of meeting anyone. "You didn't mention having a date last night," she said more sharply than she intended. "You said-"

"I said I was going to bed!" Kelly shot back. "So I didn't go to bed. So I changed my mind and went out for a walk. What's the big deal? And I didn't have a date!"

Now it was Carl Anderson who spoke, his voice heavy. "Just hold your horses, young lady," he began. "There's no need to talk to your mother in that tone of voice. And it sure sounded to me like you had a date. Now who was it with?"

Kelly glared angrily at her grandfather. "It was Michael Sheffield, all right? His father is your lawyer." She turned furious eyes on her mother. "And I didn't have a date with him. I just thought he might come over, and he did. So I went out with him for a while. I'm sixteen, Mom. I can go out if I want!"

Mary felt all her good intentions of keeping the conversation rational slip away. "But couldn't you have asked us?" she demanded.

Kelly was on her feet now. "Would you have let me go?" she countered. "And what's the big deal? I went out with Michael and I lost track of time! Why can't you just leave me alone?" Turning, she stormed out onto the patio, then disappeared around the corner of the house.

As Ted came into the kitchen, Carl was on his feet, ready to go after Kelly, but Mary stopped him. "Don't," she said, biting her lower lip. "When she gets like this, there's no reasoning with her." She turned to Ted, forcing a wan smile. "Well, so much for my good intentions. I asked her about last night, and she blew up."

Ted's expression set grimly. "How the h.e.l.l are we supposed to show her we love her when she won't even let us talk to her?"

Mary sank into one of the chairs at the breakfast table. "I don't know," she sighed. "I just don't know."

"Well, I know," Ted replied darkly. "Tonight, after Dad and I get home from work, Kelly and I are going to have a little chat. I'm going to tell her what the rules are around here, and she's going to by-G.o.d abide by them! And if she doesn't-"

"And if she doesn't, what?" Mary broke in, her eyes moistening with tears. "She's never obeyed any of our rules, Ted! What makes you think she's going to start now?" She buried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. "It was supposed to be different here," she said. "That's why we came. But it's not different. We're the same, and Kelly's the same, and I can't stand it. I just can't stand it!"

Ted and Carl gazed helplessly at Mary as she sobbed.

Finally Carl spoke into the silence. "Michael Sheffield's not a bad kid," he said. "He's kind of a loner, but he's never been any trouble to anyone. If Kelly's hanging out with him, there's nothing to worry about."

Mary, hearing the words, wiped her eyes and managed to look up. "Is that what you think, Carl?" she asked.

Her father-in-law nodded.

"Well, I wish I thought you were right. But right now I'm not so sure. Just now I think that maybe Craig Sheffield should be worrying. After all, it's his son who's hanging around with my daughter."

Carl's expression darkened. "You don't mean that, Mary," he said. "That's a terrible thing to say about your little girl "

Mary nodded miserably. "But she's not my little girl, is she?" she asked brokenly. "She's a stranger who lives with me, and I hardly know her. And it's always been that way. Always."

Two hours later, as he and Ted were inspecting one of the houses in Villejeune Links Estates, Carl paused halfway up the temporary stairs to the second floor and found himself panting. Ted, already on the landing above, looked down at him. "Dad? You okay?"

Carl took a deep breath, nodded, and continued on upward. But his legs felt heavy, and by the time he reached the top, he needed to sit down. "Getting old," he said. "Just give me a minute, and I'll be okay."

Ted eyed his father carefully. Carl's face had gone pale, and wrinkles Ted had never noticed before were etched around his eyes. "You don't look so good," he said. "I think maybe we'd better get you over to the clinic. Does your chest hurt?"

Carl glanced up at his son and chuckled hollowly. "Thinkin' maybe your old man's going to have a heart attack?" he asked. "Well, don't get your hopes up. I don't have any plans for dying."

"I didn't mean it that way," Ted said quickly. "But at your age-"

"At my age, I'm in better shape than most men twenty years younger'n me!" He struggled to his feet, but his legs still felt rubbery. "Huh," he muttered. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to go see Warren Phillips."

Allowing Ted to steady him, Carl made his way carefully down the stairs. As he came to the bottom and started toward the front door, his vision began to blur slightly, and suddenly he knew what was wrong. "s.h.i.t," he muttered under his breath.

Ted, still holding the older man's arm, tightened his grip. "What is it?" he asked.

"Nothin'," Carl replied. "I just need to go see Phillips today, that's all. I'm feeling puny 'cause I'm due for a shot."

Ted said nothing until they were in the truck and heading toward Villejeune. He glanced over at his father. Though Carl was sitting straight up in the seat next to him, he looked even worse than he had a few minutes before. "What's wrong, Dad?" he asked.

Carl's head swung around, and his eyes, suddenly looking dull, fixed vacantly on Ted. "Huh?" he grunted.

"You said you need a shot, Dad," Ted went on, trying not to betray the concern he was feeling. "What shot? What's wrong with you?"

Carl made a dismissive gesture. "It's nothing. Just a vitamin shot Warren Phillips gives me."

Ted frowned. Whatever was wrong with his father, it didn't look like a vitamin shot would take care of it. Indeed, Carl seemed to be getting worse by the minute. His breath was rasping now, and he was beginning to cough every few seconds. Ted pressed his foot on the accelerator, and the truck shot forward. When they came to the clinic, Ted ignored the parking lot, pulling up to the emergency entrance and hurrying around to help his father out of the truck.

"I can make it," Carl complained, brushing Ted's hand away as he struggled to get out of the truck. He felt his limbs stiffening, as if his arthritis were flaring up again. Clenching his jaw against the pain, he walked into the clinic, Ted beside him.

Jolene Mayhew looked up from her computer terminal, a welcoming smile on her face, which faded into a look of concern when she saw Carl Anderson. "Carl! What's- My goodness, let me call Dr. Phillips." She picked up the phone, punched two digits into it, then spoke rapidly. A moment later she hurried out of her cubicle and took Carl's left arm. "Let's get you right in."

Carl irritably shook the girl off. "Leave me alone, will you?" he rasped, his voice querulous. "I'm not dying, young lady."

Jolene fixed him with an exaggerated glare. "Well, you couldn't tell by me," she said. "You look gray as a ghost. If I didn't know you better, I'd swear you were having a heart attack."