"I didn't say that." Alex ignored the lovely urge to reach in the secretary's big mouth to yank out her larynx, and concentrated on Liliette. "Madame, your nephew has been through a terrible ordeal, but I wouldn't write him off just yet. Once he's free of pain, he may become more lucid and rational. Right now, his body is telling him that he's still being tortured. Considering the circ.u.mstances, his behavior is quite understandable."

"You can repair his body, but not his mind." A big man in a dark velvet robe hobbled in, followed by a slim teenage boy. The man wore a black eye patch and used a cane; the boy's hands were covered in bandages. Both were dark and had features that strongly resembled Thierry's. The faintest scents of sandalwood and fresh-cut gra.s.s surrounded them.

"He will never be whole again."

Cyprien went to them. "You don't know that, Marcel. We must try."

"Here, Jamys." Marcel guided the silent boy over to stand beside Liliette. Their slow, hesitant movements made Alex wonder if these two Durands had gotten the hung-by-meat-hook treatment, too.

While Cyprien discussed Thierry's condition with his family, Alex made her own observations. Marcel and Liliette were convinced Thierry would not recover, and that killing him would be merciful. Oddly, Thierry's son said nothing, and seemed to be indifferent to the fact that his family was talking about putting his father down like a rabid animal.

Which is what he is, Alex thought sadly.

"I should perform the other exams now, Cyprien," she said when there was a lull in the conversation. "Is there another room I can set up in?" The second shot she'd given Thierry would keep him quiet for another hour, but the Durands didn't need to see his broken body in restraints.

"eliane has prepared a treatment room for you on this floor," he said, and offered his hand to Liliette. "Come, madame, let Alexandra see to your arm."

After several weeks of traveling and arranging his new life, Lucan decided to stop in New Orleans. The Durands were there, although Michael Cyprien and his pet human doctor were missing. According to rumor, Alexandra Keller had given her restored but evidently ungrateful patient quite a chase.

"I overheard the master talking with his tresora about the new seigneur," one of Jaus's Kyn had confided to Lucan before he had separated the man's head from his shoulders. "Cyprien has two hundred Kyn searching the country for her."

Lucan personally didn't believe Cyprien wanted to do anything but silence the doctor. If Dr. Alexandra Keller was that valuable to the Kyn, Richard Tremayne would have dragged her off to Dundellan by now.

Lucan entered La Fontaine at night, through the roof. The Kyn who served Cyprien were alert and cautious, but they had not spent five lifetimes slipping in and out of darkened bedrooms. He moved through the house with ridiculous ease, inching through forgotten crawl s.p.a.ces and sealed-off chutes that riddled the nineteenth-century house like secret tunnels.

He found a ventilation shaft and used it to observe two men stationed on either end of the hallway leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt. Lucan noted the custom-made ammunition, explosive rounds filled with minute copper bearings and clad in pure copper casings.

So you are expecting me, Michael.

He did not challenge anyone-Cyprien was, as rumored, conspicuously absent-but located each of the Durands.

After helping himself to the obliging human nurse stationed in the bas.e.m.e.nt, he pondered what to do about Thierry.

I should kill him, Lucan thought, watching the madman pace around the narrow confines of his cell. He had never felt right about letting him live after Dublin. He had brought Thierry out to make a point to Richard-who had missed it altogether-but it was obvious that Michael's friend would never recover from his ordeal. Cyprien wouldn't do the honors; he was too tenderhearted to kill his childhood friend.

Lucan was still looking for something suitable to use to decapitate Thierry when Cyprien's private car drove up outside.

He found a listening post as Michael and Alexandra discussed the Durands, and watched as she injected herself with human blood. Her choice in siblings was a tragedy, but her modern ingenuity filled him with admiration. What a bright child she is. If Richard knew that Cyprien was concealing this half-human, half-Kyn oddity from him, he would have had his favorite rottweiler chew off Michael's pretty new face.

Yet Lucan was in no hurry to turn informant. He thought it might be more amusing to observe what surely would come to be a Kyn civil war from the new private nest he had built for himself in paradise. When immortal heads stopped rolling, he could step forward to serve, or kill his way to the throne.

What fascinated him even more was Cyprien's attempt to dominate Alexandra, and how he employed bribery and seduction when his show of authority failed to sway her.

Michael, old boy, I didn't think you had it in you.

To his disappointment, Alexandra put an abrupt end to the erotic interlude, and he was obliged to follow them down to the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Lucan's opinion of the doctor changed again as he saw her competent hands move over Thierry's broken body. She displayed no respect for Cyprien or his tresora, but she handled her patient with care and compa.s.sion.

Watching Cyprien touch Alexandra had stirred Lucan, but seeing her work aroused him. She was still human, only walking food, really, and yet there was a quality about her that drew him. He wanted to see her operate on Thierry and make him whole again. He wished he could again watch her inject the blood that was keeping her from turning into a monster like the rest of them. He needed to feel those strong little hands touching him, soothing him, healing him.

Alexandra Keller, he realized with sudden and utter distaste, radiated life and hope. The same way Lucan excreted death and despair. No wonder Cyprien was panting after her.

I have to get away from her.

When they left, he dropped into the room and went to the table where Thierry lay strapped down. The nurse came to his side.

"Poor Mr. Durand." She stroked the matted hair back from Thierry's face. "The doctor came. She's nice. She's going to help him now." She peered up at Lucan. "Would you like to talk to the doctor?"

"Not now, darling." Lucan guided her away from Thierry and back into her cubicle. "What was your name again?"

"Heather." She hopped up onto the desk and gave him a coy look from under her lashes. "You smell so pretty. Do you want to, you know, bite me again?"

"Very much." He folded the sleeve of her blouse back neatly and removed the large adhesive bandage she had over her wrist. He was still hard from watching Alexandra, and reached down to strip off her panties and release himself from his trousers. "You don't mind, do you, darling?"

The nurse's eyelids drifted down as she lifted her wrist to his mouth and spread her legs.

Cyprien left Mme. Durand with Alex in the examination room. "If you need anything," he told Alex, "eliane will be waiting in the hall."

Liliette's shoulder and elbow had been dislocated and had healed out of place, so Alex had only to manipulate the joints to put them back to heal in proper alignment. Although Liliette had the Darkyn ability to spontaneously heal, Alex hated causing the old lady new pain, and said as much.

"Nonsense, my dear doctor." Like a fond aunt, Liliette patted her cheek with her good hand. "This is nothing compared to what I endured when I was imprisoned in Paris."

"You were in jail?" Alex couldn't imagine that.

"Three long, uncomfortable months." Her hand strayed up to fiddle with her pearls. "Happily, the Bastille had a plentiful supply of slow rats and stupid guards."

"The Bastille as in The Tale of Two Cities Bastille?"

Liliette's shock matched Alex's. "You read that imbecile d.i.c.kens?"

"I didn't want to," she a.s.sured her. "The teachers made me. In high school."

That seemed to upset the grand old lady even more. "They teach this? Do you know that he stole from Carlyle to write that wretched novel? As if plagiarizing a history book made him an authority on the Terror." She sniffed. "It was not, I a.s.sure, any sort of lyrical thing like the best of times or worst of times. It was nothing but years and years of endless butchery, especially for Kyn. Literary idiot."

"I really wouldn't know, madame."

"But of course, you-" She stopped and gave Alex a startled look. "Mon Dieu, you are not Kyn. You are human."

She had no intention of explaining what she was to Liliette or anyone. "It's okay; Cyprien filled me in on things and is making me"-what did he call it?-"a tree thing."

"Tresora."

"Right." Alex gently bent the older woman's arm at the elbow to check her range of motion. "So the revolutionaries, they went after you guys in France, huh?"

"They hunted us through our families," she corrected. "Rome commissioned Joseph Guillotin to find an efficient way to dispatch our kind. We discovered this only after he submitted his proposition to the a.s.sembly in 1789, recommending decapitation as the standard form of capital punishment in France."

"Nice guy." If she witnessed the French Revolution, Cyprien must have been there, too, Alex thought. If they weren't all pathological liars, well, it boggled the mind. "Everything seems to be working okay now. Try to get some rest, and take it easy on your arm for the next twenty-four hours. I'll want to check it tomorrow."

"Doctor-Alexandra-I have something to say to you." Liliette put a gentle hand on her arm. "I love my nephew Thierry."

"That I could tell."

"I know you doubt what I say, but I did live through that time. I watched nearly all of my family and friends go under the blade. The only reason Marcel and I survived was Thierry. He escaped the mob, and he and Michael and our other Kyn, they came for us. They could not save everyone, you understand? There was not enough time. So they had to choose. There were people who had been tortured, whose minds..." Liliette looked suddenly very tired and old. "I pray you never have to make such a choice."

"Me, either." Alex stuck her head out into the hallway, and saw eliane talking to two of the guards. "Yo, Blondie.

Madame is ready to go back to her room."

eliane dismissed the guards and walked over to her. "While we have a moment, I would speak to you. You should be aware that Mr. Cyprien is in the midst of delicate negotiations at this time."

Alex guessed she was supposed to be daunted by this. She wasn't. "Does he need to borrow some antacid, or my calculator?"

"You do not realize how important this is. Michael Cyprien will soon be named seigneur." She made a broad gesture. "He will have power over all les jardins in the U.S."

"And?"

eliane gave her a pitying smile. "He does not have time to dance attendance on you. He is only using you to gain favor with Tremayne, high lord of the Darkyn."

"The high lord, huh? Here I thought Mike was all hot for my gorgeous bod. I'm devastated." Alex yawned. "You can take Madame back to her room now, and go find that nurse."

The blonde drew herself up like a cat doused with water. "Do you know who I am?"

"You mean, besides a boil on my b.u.t.t?"

"I am Michael Cyprien's tresora. We tresori have served the Darkyn since the fourteenth century, when the first of our kind swore an oath of loyalty to protect our dark lords. We are their eyes and ears; we keep them from harm and oversee their holdings. We a.s.sure no one discovers who they are, and we recruit other humans in positions of authority to protect the jardins." She made a contemptuous sound. "They do not know, as we tresori do, whom they protect, but we a.s.sure that they do as they are told. We have kept the Darkyn safe for centuries, and in return they grant us great wealth and power."

"I'm so happy for you." Alex tapped the floor with one foot. "Can I have a nurse now?"

"My own family, the Selvais, have served the master faithfully since he first rose. I am the thirty-fifth of my line to become tresora." eliane patted the side of her hair. "Now that perhaps you understand better who I am, you will-"

Alex made a cutting gesture. "You're Renfield. I got it. Still need a nurse."

"I am explaining to you why I am not here to run errands for you."

"Look on the bright side." Alex patted her shoulder. "I won't make you eat bugs."

Marcel limped in after a fuming eliane escorted Liliette back to her room. "My eye was burned out of my head. You cannot fix that."

Alex nodded toward his cane. "What about the limp?"

"I am cursed by G.o.d." He scowled and paced, spreading the scent of fresh-cut gra.s.s in the room.

She studied the line of his leg, saw how he rolled his hip. "G.o.d must have been really ticked off during the Dark Ages. Bring it over here."

He glowered and avoided her. "I do not trust leeches, or humans."

"Too bad, I've been hired at the group discount rate. And if you call me a leech again, I'll hurt you. Now get up on the exam table." She changed her gloves, and when she turned around, he hadn't moved. "I'm sorry," she said, very loud. "Did they do something to your ears, too?" He trudged over and planted himself on the table, sweeping back the robe. Instead of the wounded leg Alex expected to see, he showed her something quite different.

She went and took his foot in her hands, and manipulated it gently. "No midtarsal mobility, transverse crease, displaced navicular, calcaneocuboid, and subtalar joints."

"What does that mean?"

"You weren't cursed by G.o.d, Mr. Durand. You were born with a clubfoot." Alex thought for a moment. "Under the circ.u.mstances, I should be able to perform an osteotomy of the distal part of the calcaneus combined with a plantar fasciotomy and posteromedial release. I'll need a couple hours to correct and rearrange your joints, maybe a little wedge of skull bone, and a whole lot less lip from you."

His one eye rounded. "You would do this for me?"

The man had a congenital birth defect that predated his growing fangs. Alex could fix that without a crisis of conscience.

"Sure." She stood and tapped his eye patch. "Want to show me what's under here now?"

He untied the black ribbon holding it in place. His eye and eyelid were missing, evidently violently removed but completely healed. The eye socket had rough edges, and it was easy to tell what were gouge marks and what were burn marks.

Alex tilted his head up and used a scope light to probe the cratered socket. "What did they use?"

"A knife and a poker heated in the fire."

She gently lowered the eye patch back into place. "You're right; I can't help you out with this eye. Your tissue will reject any type of prosthesis I try to implant. I'm sorry." She felt someone watching them, and saw Heather and Jamys hovering in the doorway. "Here's my next patient."

"I should tell you what happened to Jamys," Marcel said as he climbed down from the exam table. "We were kept in the same room for a time. They only took him away the night before Lucan came."

Who is Lucan? "It's okay, Marcel. Jamys can tell me about it himself."

"No, Dr. Keller, he cannot." The big man took the boy's hand from Heather, who was looking very pale and somewhat shaky.

"Hang on, you two. Heather, sit down." Alex steered the nurse to the exam table and checked her pulse. It was rapid and thready. "Look at me." The nurse was having trouble focusing. Alex caught a faint trace of a flowery scent and felt her jaw lock. "What happened to you?"

"He said it was nice. One for the road." Heather smiled, and then her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped over.

Alex did a quick check and found her blood pressure bordering on nonexistent. Dull fury rose inside her as she considered the only possible reason for it. "s.h.i.t."

Marcel came over and touched the nurse's pale throat, then found the wound on her wrist. "Four punctures, all fresh. She will need blood, and soon."

"Oh, you think?" Alex went over to the door, stuck her head out, and shouted for Phillipe. When he appeared, she dragged him into the room and showed him the nurse. "My nurse, minus a few pints." She poked him in the chest with her finger. "I thought Nurse Heather was safe here. I thought we played nice and didn't kill humans anymore."

"We... do not."

"Well, someone treated her like a Big Gulp." And if it was Cyprien, Alex would personally kick his a.s.s from here to the Mississippi. "It wasn't you, was it?" When the seneschal shook his head, she glared at Marcel and Jamys. "Or you?"

"We would not," Marcel a.s.sured her. "It is not polite to do so in the house of the master of the jardin."

"What does that mean?" Alex demanded. "I have to look for a rude vampire?"

Phillipe lifted Heather into his arms. "I will care for her."