"You're a clever girl, but not clever enough." Before she could invoke her protection spell, his hands were on her shoulders and he was pouring energy into her. She was weakening . . . paralyzed . . . gone. . . .

Simon managed to clear all the frightened visitors from the lion yard with no one seriously hurt. Besides the panicked youth, he rescued the old man who had fallen. The fellow was bruised but not broken. Simon also reunited a small girl child with her frantic parents.

Soldiers raced into the menagerie, clutching their weapons and looking pale at the prospect of confronting wild beasts. Simon used magic to calm them-armed men in a panic were dangerous. "I don' t believe anyone was hurt. Some of the cages opened, but most of the animals stayed where they were."

"I hope to G.o.d you're right," a keeper said grimly. Flanked by two soldiers, he entered the curving walkway. As Simon followed, a young officer said, "You shouldn't go in there, sir. Not till we know it's safe."

"My wife ran in the opposite direction and I must find her," Simon said, putting enough authority in his voice to silence the officer.

He expected to run into Meg as they followed the curving lion yard. Evidence of her handiwork was evident in the calm animals in their cages. Muttering prayers of grat.i.tude, the keeper used his key to secure the doors.

But of Meg there was no trace. Worried, Simon reached out, and couldn't find her mental signature. "My wife isn't here," he said through tight lips.

The soldiers exchanged a glance, then looked into the nearest cage.

"No! She can't have been caught by one of these beasts." Simon swallowed hard, frightened by theblankness he found when he tried to touch her mind. "There . . . there would be signs."There weren't. No signs of Meg at all, anywhere in the Tower of London.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

Meg cried out as pain ripped through her. A familiar, loathed voice said, "You're a sensitive little thing, Meggie. I'l widen the portal." The pain vanished.

Dazed, Meg forced her eyes open and saw Drayton's evil face staring down at her. He was carrying her as if she were a limp doll. She wanted to strike him, but she couldn't move. She couldn't think.

He had placed her in thrall again. The spell suffocated, crushing mind and body. Yet . . . not so much as before. Under the leaden weight of Drayton's magic was a spark of Meg, false Countess of Falconer.

"Here. Now that I'm home, I don't need to carry her myself."

Meg shivered as she was transferred to someone else's arms. A strong, blank-faced footman. Was he also in thrall? She tried to use her magic to touch his mind. The effort was immense, like digging herself out of her own grave, but she was able to get some sense of the fellow. His name was Boxley, he found Drayton's household strange and somewhat alarming, but he stolidly did his job without questions. Stupid or enthralled? Some of both, Meg guessed. He had been bespelled enough not to wonder at the strange things he saw, but not so much as to render him useless as a servant.

"Once you're locked up, I'l lift the tangle spell so you can move again." Drayton caressed her cheek with chilling affection. "I have missed having you in my mind, Meggie. I have many reasons for hating Falconer, but his stealing you is the greatest. Now that I have you back, we'l not be separated again." He rested his hand on her throat, his expression abstracted. "And you are virgin yet. Excellent. Was Falconer such a cold stick, or did he really understand the power of your virginity? I think him a cold stick myself." He dropped his hand and stepped back. "Take her to the attics, Boxley. I'l be right behind you."

The footman carried her along a plain hallway to the bottom of a flight of steps. He was starting to climb when Drayton said with irritation, "Not the servants' stairs, you block! They're so narrow you'l be knocking her head and feet with every step. Use the front staircase."

Wordlessly, the footman turned and headed along the corridor again. Drayton opened a door that let them into a grand front hall. The bouncing as she was carried up endless steps made Meg dizzy. When she saw how far she would fall if dropped, her heartbeat accelerated, but she still couldn't move.

Each flight of steps was narrower than the one before, and by the last, her feet and head were indeed banging on the walls. At least her paralysis also blocked pain.

At the top of the steps, they came into a bare, dim s.p.a.ce with a peaked ceiling and several doors. Boxley paused uncertainly.

Drayton arrived, panting from the four flights of steps. "Now, where shall we put my Meggie? With the other one, I think. That's the most secure room. I wonder if you'l understand? Probably not. You're wearing your simpleton face again."

He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door straight ahead. From her odd angle, Meg saw that a similar key hung on a nail beside the door. If this was a prison, it must be opened regularly to feed the prisoner.

Or prisoners. Boxley carried Meg into a narrow, whitewashed room with a slanted ceiling, a single bed, a chair and tiny table, and a washstand. A chamber pot sat in the corner. A small, curtainless window admitted light. It was a servant's room and the rag rug on the floor was the only concession to comfort.

"Put her on the bed. Just don't crush the other one," Drayton ordered.

As the footman laid her on the bed, Meg realized that the rumpled covers next to her concealed a slender body. Surely this was the last thrall. A tingle of excitement burned away some of the fog that engulfed her brain.

"Before I release you, I want to taste your energy again," Drayton murmured. As he stared down at her with avid eyes, she felt the hideously familiar violation of her mind. She tried to invoke the triple protection spell, without success. Since that was impossible, she tried a much simpler mental blow.

His eyes widened. "The kitten has developed a bite. All the better. So kind of Falconer to train you for my service." He skimmed a lazy hand down her body, over her shoulder and breast. "Later, after my forum has achieved my goals, I shall decide whether it is worth losing your virgin power for the sake of possessing that sweet body. Rest now." He straightened and made a swift gesture with his fingers before leading Boxley from the room.

As the key grated in the lock, Meg's paralysis vanished. She sat up and swung her legs to the floor, then almost collapsed as she tried to stand. Her muscles were shaking with reaction from having been immobilized. She spent several moments cautiously stretching her limbs before she tried to stand again.

This time she managed to stay upright before lurching to the washstand, which was three or four paces away. Blessedly, the pitcher was full of water. She felt better when she drank some, then splashed her face.

Turning, she surveyed her prison. The window was so small that even a child might not be able to climb through, and when she looked outside she viewed a sheer fall four stories to the flagstones of the back garden. There would be no escape that way.

As she studied the small room, she realized that even though her mind was clumsy and slow, it worked much better than during the ghastly years at Castle Drayton. She knew who she was and what her powers were, at least when they weren't suppressed. She knew that she had friends.

Simon. He must be frantic with worry. He might guess that Drayton had taken her, because the fiend had been so close, but would he be able to sense that she was alive behind the incredible wards that had hurt her as she entered? Even if he knew she was here, he couldn't come after her because of the transformation spell. Maybe Duncan Macrae could send a whirlwind to tear this evil house down.

Except he wouldn't-no Guardian would risk killing everyone in the household, especially if he wasn't sure she was here. Dratted ethics.

Finally she turned her attention to her companion. The other thrall lay on her side, facing the wall. With the blanket pulled over her, only a tangle of dark hair showed. Was the girl even alive? Yes, the faint rise and fall of the blanket proved that she breathed. Had thralldom put her into a deep sleep?

No, the girl was exhausted, Meg decided after studying her energy field. A monstrous amount of energy had been needed to open all the cages at the menagerie, and Drayton must have drawn that power from this child. No wonder she was drained of both magical power and normal human energy.

From the first time Meg had touched the thread that ran from Drayton to this girl, she had felt powerfully drawn to help. Having her mind and soul blunted hadn't changed that. A pity they were meeting in such circ.u.mstances.

She perched on the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket down, then turned the girl onto her back. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Meg brushed the dark hair back, then froze.

Lying on the bed was . . . herself.

Gwynne Owens swept into the drawing room, her beautiful face concerned. "We came as soon as we heard. Have you learned anything new about Meg?"

Simon shook his head. "Nothing. No one seems to have seen her after the lions escaped. I've been scrying to see if I could locate her, but without success. My feelings are clouding my vision to the point where I don't know what I'm seeing." It was a bitter admission for a man who had always prided himself on his cool objectivity.

Duncan, a step behind his wife, said, "She can't have been eaten in five minutes without leaving a trace, so that eliminates the lions. Besides, I'm sure she could magic any great cat into lying on its back and waving its paws in the air for her."

Gwynne settled into a chair, her skirts falling elegantly around her. She asked, "Are you sure that her disappearance is due to Drayton?"

"Yes." Simon rose and began to pace. "And not only because he was at the Tower. My intuition is absolutely sure that Meg fell into his hands. I think he took advantage of the coincidence of us being nearby and approached to see if he might exploit the situation to his benefit. When he saw us in the lion yard, he realized it was a perfect way to distract us, since he knew we wouldn't allow innocent visitors to be mauled. A quick repulsion spell on the cage doors, and chaos was unleashed."

"Jean said that Meg had learned a powerful triple protection spell," Gwynne said. "Would Drayton have been able to overcome that?"

"If he reached her before she could invoke it, he wouldn't have had to." Simon's mouth twisted humorlessly. "When confronting lions, it's easy to overlook the jackal at one's back."

"One must consider the river," Duncan said soberly. "It's right there, after all."

Simon understood what his friend wasn't quite saying. "With a strong don't-look spell to protect him, it would be simple enough for Drayton to put her in the river, but he wouldn't kill her. Not only would he hate to waste someone with so much power, but he's obsessed with her personally. He wouldn't harm her unless he was absolutely certain she could never be his."

"She will never really be his," Gwynne said quietly. "She hates him to the bottom of her soul."

"It isn't her soul that he wants. It's her magic and her body, and those he can have by controlling her mind." Simon stopped his pacing at the window, staring in the direction of Drayton House. "She said she would rather be dead than enthralled again."

The taut silence ended when Gwynne said, "I'l try my hand at scrying. Since I'm not so involved, maybe I can find something useful."

"I hope so. Anything would be better than not knowing anything at all." Simon turned to watch Gwynne pull out her scrying gla.s.s, a piece of polished obsidian that had belonged to the most powerful British sorceress of the Elizabethan era. Overall, he and Gwynne had similar scrying ability, but where Meg was concerned, he was useless. G.o.d willing, Gwynne would do better.

She frowned over the scrying gla.s.s for long minutes. "I'm sure Meg is alive, and it looks like your deductions about how Drayton took her are accurate. He waited until she'd caged the last beast, then attacked her from behind. Her standard shielding wasn't enough to stop him, and she collapsed before she could invoke anything more."

Thank G.o.d. "Do you know what he's done with her?"

Gwynne shook her head. "His shielding is so powerful that it's impossible to get a clear reading on him. Once Meg was taken within his shields, she vanished. It appears he left the menagerie and climbed into his carriage outside the Tower. I don't see him moving to the riverbank and . . . and throwing anything in, so he must have taken her to his house. I can't swear to it, though. Drayton House is even more heavily shielded than he is personally. It's a magical sinkhole."

"She's so close, and yet impossibly far." Simon's fists clenched. "Lord Sterling and I investigated the house, and the wards include a component that reactivates the unicorn spell. I can't get close and stay human. Though maybe as a unicorn, I could break in and free her."

His guests exchanged an alarmed glance. "That's a really bad idea," Duncan said. "You said a unicorn mind is not good for quick thinking, and you would need all your wits about you if you stormed Drayton House. I suspect that Drayton may have cast a ritual magic circle inside that will activate the moment you set foot or hoof in it whether he is home or not. He might have taken Meg to bait a trap with you as the quarry."

Simon hadn't thought of that. Drayton wanted Meg for herself, but he probably wanted to lure Simon in as well.

"Simon, promise you won't do anything foolish," Gwynne said gravely. "He won't hurt Meg-she's too valuable. I know you hate leaving her in his control, but better to take your time and be successful when you rescue her."

There was irony in hearing the same arguments Simon had used to persuade Meg not to rush into rescuing the thrall. He didn't like hearing them any more than Meg had.

Duncan added, "You'l have a better chance of taking Drayton down at his forum. Brentford Abbey is warded, but he can't fully protect such a large area, especially when a hundred or more people are wandering about. That will be your chance."

"I know you're right." Simon rubbed his temple wearily, unable to reduce the misery and loss that throbbed through his veins. "I will stalk Drayton at the abbey. But if something happens to me, will you undertake to free Meg? And also the other girl who is being held there?"

"Of course," Duncan said. "It might take time to figure out how to do it, but I give you my word that I will see Meg free, or die trying."

"Men are so dramatic," Gwynne said tartly. "Promise to do your best, and leave life and death to fate."

"Good advice, my love. With luck, it won't come to that." Duncan raised his gaze to Simon. "What are your plans for Drayton's forum, and what can we do to help?"

"Nothing complicated. I plan to use my best illusion spell to disguise myself as an eccentric inventor and hope that so much will be going on that Drayton won't be able to pick me out of the crowd. Since he's lost his Brentford thralls, he is weakened." Though he still had the two strongest, Meg and the London girl. "When I know what he plans to do, I should also know how to stop him." He hoped.

Though if he had the chance, he might simply kill the b.a.s.t.a.r.d out of hand.

The first reaction of Meg's sluggish brain was that she was going mad. The unconscious girl in the bed couldn't be her. The resemblance to the face Meg saw in the mirror was mere accident. And yet . . .

The small window admitted so little light that it was hard to see the thrall well. Meg wondered if she could still create mage light. She concentrated on what had first come so easily. Let there be light. Nothing. She tried again and again, but was unable to summon the magic spark that must precede visible light.

She was about to give up when she managed to create a bright dot on her palm. As careful as if she were coaxing a small flame to grow larger, she encouraged the light to expand. When it was a satisfactory size and brightness, she placed it on the wall above the bed so that the thrall's face was clearly illuminated.

Light made the resemblance even more uncanny. The thrall had the same heart-shaped face and high cheekbones as Meg, the same pale skin, the same dark hair. But she was much younger than Meg, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, and a closer study of her face showed subtle differences in the shape of nose and mouth. They were not identical, but the resemblance was too striking to be chance.

While waiting for the girl to wake from her magical exhaustion, Meg could study the enthrallment spells. She had been with Simon when he removed the spells from the Brentford thralls, so perhaps she could manage some basic work here.

Slowly she explored the web of enthrallment spells. Though working magic took enormous concentration and complicated work was beyond her, Meg was able to erase some of the bindings on the girl's memory and personality. She examined the silver sphere that encompa.s.sed the girl's magic, but she didn' t dare try the delicate work that would be required to dissolve it. There was too much risk of causing harm.

Neither did she try to knot off the intangible cord that joined the thrall to Drayton. He would notice that immediately, and punishment would be swift. But Meg did find an interesting connection that ran from the girl's magical center to the fortress of energy that protected the house. Hadn't Simon speculated that the thrall was providing the power to maintain the wards? Apparently he had been right, and that was another reason why the girl was so drained.

Thoughtfully Meg tested the connection to the wards. There was a limberness in it different from the connection to Drayton. If there was a chance to escape, it might be possible to cut that connection and shut down the wards.

By the time she withdrew from the thrall's mind, Meg was sweating and dizzy from the effort. But she had enough energy left to share some if she was careful. She visualized vitality and strength flowing from her center to the thrall's. Soon color returned to the girl's face and she shifted position a little.

Maintaining a bare trickle of energy to the thrall, Meg said softly, "Are you awake? Will you talk to me? Please?"

The girl's lids fluttered up, revealing deep blue eyes quite different from Meg's smoky gray green. At first her expression had the dullness typical of thralls. Then her gaze sharpened. "Megan, is it really you?" she whispered. "Or am I dreaming?"

The words jolted through Meg like lightning. "Do you know who I am?"

The girl raised her hand to Meg's face. "You look just like my sister Megan, who . . . who disappeared ten years ago." Her hand dropped away. "You must be a dream. Everything that has happened to me since that man came has been dream or nightmare."

Meg caught the younger girl's hand and squeezed hard, her heart racing. "That man, Drayton, is a nightmare made flesh, but I am real. I think I must be your sister, but I remember nothing before I was abducted ten long years ago."

The girl sat up and stared incredulously, then picked up Meg's left hand. "That scar on the back of your hand." She bit her lip. "You got it when you pulled me away from an angry dog and it bit you by mistake." She raised her gaze again, tears shining in her eyes. "It really is you."

Meg stared at the scar, so faint that she was barely aware of it, and saw canine teeth sinking into her flesh. Two deep punctures and spurts of blood. "Dear G.o.d, I remember. You were too young to know that all dogs aren't friendly."

The girl scrambled to her knees and lurched across the mattress into a hug, the tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Megan, we missed you so dreadfully! You used to sing me to sleep when I was little. Mama and Papa were never the same after you vanished. Once Papa said that not knowing what happened to you was worse than if you had died of a fever. Where did you go? Why didn't you come home?"

Meg smiled crookedly. "Why aren't you home?"

"Oh. Of course." The girl's expression crumpled as the joy of finding her sister was overwhelmed by her captivity. "Oh, Megan, it was horrible. Horrible! I had no will. My very self was shattered. And . . . and he would rip into my mind, invading my very soul." She began to weep. "There are no words for what he did."

Meg enfolded the younger girl in her arms. "You don't need words, because I experienced exactly the same, for ten long years. Dear G.o.d, I wish I could wipe those memories from your mind!"

For a long time they held each other, her sister's tears gradually diminishing. Gently Meg rocked her, sending the same sort of soothing energy she used with animals. To her surprise, she realized that her own pain was diminishing. By sharing what they had suffered, they became stronger. When the girl stopped shaking, Meg asked, "How did Drayton capture you? How long has he held you in thrall? It's August 1748 now."

The other girl sat up and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I was feeding the chickens when he appeared. He didn't say a word-just placed his hand on my head, and my mind was overpowered. I think he led me through the woods to a road where a carriage waited, but I remember very little after that. It was April when he took me, so it's been about four months."

"Thank heaven it was no longer," Meg said vehemently. "Now tell me everything, little sister. What is your name? What is my name? Where did we live? Who else is in the family?"

"You are Megan Elizabeth Harper, and I am Emma Alice Harper," the younger girl said. "You were the oldest in the family and I was youngest. Between us are two brothers, Harold and Winthrop. Papa is the vicar of St. Austell's church in the village of Lydbury in Shropshire. You remember none of this?"

"Emma," Meg breathed. "Emma!" Images tumbled through her mind of a little girl with great blue eyes who followed her big sister everywhere. Emma had turned five and was getting too large to carry. "I used to let you sleep in my bed when there were storms. My dogs and cats slept there, too."

"Yes!" Emma bounced with excitement. "After you . . . went away, they came and slept with me. It was very crowded. You remember now?"

"I'm starting to." The images increased in speed, revealing her tall, scholarly father with his grave smile and his devotion to his congregation. Her mother, the warm center of the household, endlessly patient with her eldest child's tendency to run into the woods and ride the squire's horses. "Did I take lessons from a governess?"

"No, you studied with Papa. He tutored sons of the local gentry to prepare them to go away to school, and you would sit in the corner during the lessons. When the boys left, he would drill you on what you had learned. He said you were smarter than any of the boys." Emma smiled through her tears. "After you vanished, I started going to the lessons, too. Papa said it made him feel better to have a daughter in the corner. Once he said I was as clever as you, and it was the nicest thing anyone ever said to me."

It was too much. Meg buried her face in her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably as the pieces of her past fell into place. Simon had thought her memories might come rushing back all at once, and he had been right. Emma's words had dissolved the barrier between Meg and her past. "I didn't even know my name!" she said raggedly. "All I remembered of my childhood was the name Meg."

She had lost so much, so many years of loving and being loved. The family she had longed for had wanted her equally. Drayton had not only torn her away from her family, he had obliterated her past so she hadn't even had the comfort of memories. G.o.d d.a.m.n the man to h.e.l.l!