"Okay." When she took hold of the wheel, power vibrated up her wrists. It was harder than she had expected to hold the wheel steady. She widened her stance and leaned forward, bracing her body to take the strain.

Michael stepped outside and made his way to the prow. The railing around the boat was simple metal fastened directly onto the deck. He knelt, took the rifle and braced the barrel on the top railing.

Adrenaline strung out her nerves until she felt tight as a wire. They hurtled forward at an impossible pace, toward the Deceiver, and toward more drones with guns. She clamped down on her fear. Her mind shut down until the only thing that existed was the race over the water, and her battle to keep the boat on a steady, straight path.

The shadow on the horizon expanded with dizzying rapidity. Motorboats and sailboats dotted the water in all directions. She broke out in a sweat as details on the mainland became visible. Tree-covered hills swooped along the sh.o.r.eline, and she caught a glimpse of houses through the trees.

Nicholas whirled onto the boat. There-do you see them? he demanded. They're just ahead. The drones are waiting in a black SUV at the end of the road by the dock.

She looked down the faint shimmer of Nicholas's arm as he pointed, and then she could see the old motorboat with two people in it, chugging unhurriedly through the water. They were perhaps a hundred yards away from the dock.

She could also see the black SUV, parked in a wide gravel area at the end of a neighborhood road that ran up an incline into a cl.u.s.ter of trees and houses.

Michael? she asked telepathically. He was too far away to talk to verbally.

Hold steady, he said.

His shoulders tightened as he bent his head over the barrel of the rifle. Whatever Michael was aiming for, it was an impossible shot to try to take. The boat bucked rhythmically and they were still a good two hundred yards away from Jerry and Jamie's motorboat. They were even farther from the sh.o.r.e.

A sharp sound cracked the air. It was only after the pa.s.senger window of the SUV exploded that she realized Michael had taken his first shot.

All the while they raced closer, straight at the sh.o.r.e.

The pa.s.senger door of the SUV opened at the same time someone leaped out of the driver's seat, crouched behind the vehicle and aimed a gun over the hood in their direction.

Here we go, she thought. She started to shake.

The drone that had been in the pa.s.senger's seat jumped out and raced to the back of the vehicle. Another crack sounded as Michael shot again. This time a spray of water kicked up beside the other motorboat.

She whispered to Nicholas, "Was that a shot from Michael?"

He's trying to get their attention, the ghost said.

The scene on the sh.o.r.e grew bigger as they drew closer, and she could pick out more details. She could see the glint of sunlight winking off the sungla.s.ses of the drone behind the hood of the SUV. After opening up the back door, the second drone ran behind the vehicle and joined the first with a rifle.

The wave that had been propelling them forward died down, and so did their hectic speed. The intense vibration eased at the wheel, and the sound of the boat's motor grew louder as it engaged.

Part of the window blew in. Dots of pain flared along the side of her face. She twisted away from the flying gla.s.s with a gasp and lost hold of the wheel. When she straightened, a spiderweb of fractures had exploded over the rest of the gla.s.s, obscuring her vision.

Michael leaped into the cabin, rifle held in one hand. He punched out the gla.s.s with the rifle's b.u.t.t. He barked, "There's blood on your face. Are you hit again?"

She wiped the side of her wet face. There were three points of pain. Mentally she probed at the areas. They were all shallow cuts.

"Gla.s.s shards," she said. She grabbed for the wheel. "I'm fine."

He raced out, knelt at the railing again and fired off a few more shots. More windows shattered in the SUV. One of the drones had disappeared from sight, but the one with the rifle was still shooting.

Only this time the drone shot at Jerry and Jamie's motorboat. She saw that they had begun to turn away from sh.o.r.e. Splashes of water arced around them.

"Come on," she whispered, willing their boat to move faster.

How long would it take for them to get out of gunshot range? And where was the Deceiver? For Nicholas to be so panicked, he couldn't be too far away, and he would be drawn by the gun battle.

We have to draw fire away from them, Michael said. Take us in a circle between their boat and sh.o.r.e.

She fit her foot to the boot-sized gas pedal and gunned it. The engine roared and the wind whipped her face as the boat leaped forward, while Michael kept up a steady spray of gunfire, pausing only to exchange his empty clip for a full one.

Nicholas had left her again. They came abreast of the other boat, which was headed in the opposite direction. She could only spare a worried glance for them. Jamie had slumped to one side, and Jerry had taken the seat at the helm. Red sprayed the open interior of their boat.

Oh, no.

Then they blew past Jerry and Jamie. She spun the wheel, feeling the tension as the boat turned in a wide arc, spraying a tall wave of water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another black SUV roar down the hill of the neighborhood street toward the dock.

Her stomach lurched, and she forgot to telepathize. She shouted, "Do you see them?"

I see them, said Michael. He didn't lift his head from the rifle or stop shooting. Take us out again.

She kept the boat in a tight arc until they were headed away from sh.o.r.e. Then she aimed for the other boat. When she looked over her shoulder one last time, she saw the approaching SUV swerve sharply to the left and crash into a clump of trees and bushes.

After another few moments, Michael stopped shooting and ran into the cabin.

"We're out of range," he said. "I disabled as many boats on the pier as I could, but there were a couple toward the sh.o.r.e that I couldn't draw a bead on. They could try to follow us."

Her chest had tightened, and she forced herself to take in deeper breaths. She said through gritted teeth, "Tell me he was in that SUV that crashed."

"I think he was, although they weren't going fast enough to kill anybody. More's the pity." Michael gripped her by the back of the neck. She thought it was as much to steady him as it was to steady her.

"I could say that's got to be the craziest thing I've ever experienced, but I've already been saying that for several days now." She gave him an anguished look. "I think Jamie's hurt."

His expression tightened. "We need to get them transferred to this boat and leave the area as quick as we can." He stepped behind her to place his hands beside hers on the wheel, and he nudged her foot off the gas pedal.

As he took control, she sagged back against him. He held the wheel with one hand, slipping another around her waist to hug her tight against his torso as his cheek came down on top of her head.

Leaning back against his strong, steady body felt so good. She cupped the hand that he flattened against her waist and tried not to think too far ahead to their next conversation. If this moment was all she would get, she was going to soak up as much of it as she could.

She squinted against the spray of wind and water, watching as they drew close to the others. "Do you think he'll follow us?"

"I don't know. It depends on how much reinforcement he has with him. He'll weigh the risks just like Astra did. I can maintain the null s.p.a.ce around us, which should discourage him. We'll be a lot more difficult to track in the open water than we would be traveling down predefined highways on land."

They had approached within hailing distance of the other boat. Jerry looked over his shoulder and waved at them. He shouted, "Jamie's been shot!"

Michael eased them into a slower speed. He shouted back, "Cut your motor."

Mary took the wheel again when he nudged her. The other boat slowed to a stop, rocking gently in the waves. "Just hold it steady," he said. "Don't use any gas. Let us coast up to them. I'll get them on board, then take the helm again, while you help Jamie."

"All right."

She tried to hold them on a steady course. They came up alongside the others. Their hulls sc.r.a.ped as the waves rocked them together. Michael threw a rope to Jerry who caught and swiftly tied them together. Then he tossed a rope ladder to the older man.

"Can you climb aboard on your own?" he asked. "I'll get Jamie."

Jerry said, "Yes."

Mary twisted to watch what was happening. She was in time to see Michael gather himself and leap like a great cat from their bigger boat to the smaller one.

Jerry's head appeared as he climbed the ladder, his face scored with deep lines and his eyes stark. With the boats moored together, she let go of the steering wheel and rushed to help him climb the rest of the way aboard.

When he straightened, she put an arm around him and nudged him toward the galley. "Are you shot?"

"No." The pain in his eyes was palpable. "The boy is bad off."

"I understand." She took a moment to scan his heart. The spike in stress hadn't helped him at all, but her earlier handiwork held. She told him, "We had a rough trip last night, and things are a mess down below. Make a place where we can set Jamie when Michael gets him aboard, will you?"

"Of course." Jerry ducked his head and stepped through the hatch.

In the other boat, Michael had bent over Jamie's sprawled form where she could also see that Nicholas's presence hovered. Blood was everywhere, down Jamie's head and all over his front. Michael gathered the boy in his arms, squatted and lunged into the air.

He cleared the railing with inches to spare, landed at a crouch and straightened. "It's a head wound."

"Take him below," she said.

Jerry had cleared the tangle of blankets off the pile of mattresses by the time they got downstairs. He stood and flattened against the wall to give Michael enough room to ease Jamie's body p.r.o.ne on a bare mattress. Mary wriggled between the two men and knelt by Jamie's head. Nicholas knelt on the other side.

Jerry asked Michael, "How did you know to come for us?"

"Nicholas told us," Michael said.

She ignored him and the others, and focused solely on Jamie. She parted his matted, wet hair, looking for the wound. Her fingers found it before her eyes did. Gently she probed at the area.

Her heart sank as she realized the bullet had penetrated his skull. Mortality rates for penetrating brain injuries were over ninety-two percent. Still, she tried to hold out hope as she sent her awareness into his body.

Jamie was brain-dead.

She saw that immediately. The gunshot wound was simple but fatal. The damage to his brain stem was too severe. She absorbed the details of the injury almost reflexively and knew that if it were only a matter of healing the flesh, she could cause the damage to heal.

The problem was his spirit had already departed, probably within a few moments of the bullet hitting him. There was no psychic scar, as she had seen in the drones that had their spirits ripped out of them. Jamie was a smooth, quiet blank. His body still functioned, but that wouldn't last long without life support. His blood pressure had already plummeted. Within the next half hour, his organs would shut down.

She closed her eyes and bent her head as a storm of reaction overtook her.

Outrage, grief, guilt. Fury.

This is our fault, she thought. Her mouth worked.

As soon as any of us had heard that Nicholas had been killed, we should have thought of it, especially Astra and Michael but even me as well. He went after my family. Look at what he did to Justin. Of course he would think about looking into Nicholas's family too.

We were too wrapped up in our own quarrels and dramas to even think about Nicholas's family. So sad, too bad, you just got in our way, because we've always got to think of our greater goal.

She wiped her forehead on her forearm and realized that Michael and Jerry were still talking. Michael must have asked about any supplies on the other boat, because Jerry was talking about bottled water and packaged snacks.

"We're low on fuel," Jerry said.

"I don't care about that," Michael said. "We used hardly any fuel on the way over, and we have nearly a full tank."

She said in a hoa.r.s.e voice, "Would you please talk outside?"

They stopped immediately and stepped out on the deck, closing the door to the hatch softly. She looked down at Jamie's handsome face. He looked so peaceful, as if he had just stepped out for a little while. It was maddening to know that she could heal his body and yet lose the fight to save his life.

The growl of the boat's engine started, and they lurched into movement. She ignored it. At the moment nothing mattered outside of this small room.

She looked up at Nicholas, who remained, intent on her. His dark, transparent gaze was the most distinct thing about him. She said, I'm so sorry, Nicholas. He's gone.

Pain blazed at her. Is there nothing that you can do?

There's plenty that I can do, she said bitterly. But none of it will bring him back.

The ghost bowed his head.

Nicholas, we have to have a hard conversation, she said. Jamie's body is beginning to shut down. I can stop it. I'm pretty sure that I can physically heal the damage done to him, but his spirit is already gone.

She already knew he was a clever man. He knew where she was going, and he shook his head against it. No. I will not take my sister's boy.

She nodded. I thought you might say that. It's a natural reaction, when family members face some kind of issue of organ donation. Usually in a hospital, there's a little more time to talk about it, and people can work through their emotions with a counselor. But we don't have that option here, and we don't have life support to keep Jamie's body viable.

No, he said again. This time he sounded almost pleading.

She couldn't look at him. His pain was too hard to watch. She looked down at Jamie.

I can't tell you what to do, and obviously there aren't any rules of ethics to follow in this situation. I just know two things. One is that we face so many risks, we may not get another chance for you. Look at what happened just this afternoon. There's no guarantee we'll survive from one day to the next. She paused then said as gently as she could, The other thing is, it isn't fair that your father and sister have to lose both of you.

That brought his head up. Moments trickled by as he struggled in silence.

Finally he said, How long before I have to make a decision?

She averted her face and concentrated on Jamie again. She said, Twenty minutes.

Nicholas vanished from sight. She lost all sense of his presence.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n you," she muttered.

She wasn't even sure whom she was cursing. The Deceiver, certainly. Herself, Michael and Astra, yes.

And fate. She definitely cursed at fate.

She didn't wait twenty minutes. There was no clock in the room, and she had no way of telling time. She had wanted to give Nicholas as long as she could, but she was afraid that she had cut things too close. She wasn't sure she could wait twenty minutes and still repair the damage to Jamie in time to prevent major organ damage.

So, sick at heart, she sank into Jamie's body, stabilized his blood pressure, stopped the bleeding and began to work on repairing his brain stem.

G.o.d help her, if Nicholas came back and said no again, she was either going to have to stop Jamie's heart herself, or ask Michael to help her. Otherwise his body would continue to function until it starved to death.