A simple thing. Everything.

If she'd never met him, she'd have been content to go on as she was. Enjoying a man now and then when he caught her fancy and her interest. Whether or not she would have embraced her powers again she couldn't be sure. But her heart would have remained her own.

Once you gave your heart, you risked more than self. You risked the one who held it.

How could she?

Weary of the worry, she breathed him in, and gave herself to sleep.

The storm wasback, cold and bitter. It drove the sea into a frenzy of sound and fury. Lightning blasted over the sky, shattering it like glass.

Black rain gushed from the shards to be hurled like frozen barbs by the wicked wind.

The storm was feral. And she ruled it.

Power fueled her, pumping through muscle and bone with such gloriousstrength. Here was an energy beyond anything she'd known before, had believed possible.

And with this force at her fingertips, she would have vengeance.

No, no. Justice. It wasn't vengeance to seek punishment for wrongs. Todemand it. To mete it out with a clear mind.

But her mind wasn't clear. Even in the throes of her hunger, she knew it. And feared it.

She was damning herself.

She looked down at the man who cowered at her feet. What was power if it couldn't be used to right wrongs, to stop evil, to punish the wicked?

"If you do this, it ends in violence. In hopelessness."

Her grief-stricken sisters stood in the circle, and she without.

"I have the right!"

"No one does. Do this, and you rip out the heart of the gift. The soul of what you are."

She was already lost. "I can't stop it."

"You can. Only you can. Come, stand with us. It's he who will destroy you."

She looked down and saw the face of the man change, features over features that slid from terror, to glee, to plea, to hunger.

"No. He ends here."

She threw up a hand. Lightning exploded, arrowed down to her fingertips. And became a silver sword. "With what is mine I take your life. To right the wrong and end the strife. For justice I set my fury free, and take the path of destiny. From this place and from this hour..." Thrilled, darkly thrilled, she lifted the sword high as he screamed. "I will taste the ripe fruit of power. Blood for blood I now decree. As I will, so mote it be."

She brought the sword down in one vicious swipe. He smiled as its tip sliced flesh. And he vanished.

The night screamed, the earth trembled. And through the storm, the one she loved came running.

"Stay back!" she shouted. "Stay away!"

But he fought his way through the gale, reaching for her. From the tip of her sword, lightning erupted, and arrowed into his heart.

"Ripley, come on,honey. Wake up now. It's a bad dream."

She was sobbing with it, and the wrenching grief in the sound worried him more than the trembling.

"I couldn't stop it. I killed him. I couldn't make it stop."

"It's over now." He fumbled for the bedside lamp, but couldn't find the switch. Instead he simply sat up with her, cuddled her, rocked. "It's all over now. You're okay. Wake up." He kissed her damp cheeks, her forehead.

Her arms banded around him like steel. "Mac."

"That's right. I'm here. You had a nightmare. Do you want me to turn on the light, get you some water?"

"No, just ... no. Hold on to me a minute, okay?"

"Absolutely."

Not a nightmare, she thought as she let herself cling to him. But a vision, a blend of what had been and what would be. She'd recognized the face-the faces-of the man on the beach. One she had seen in other dreams. He'd died three centuries before. Cursed by the one called Earth.

Another she had first seen in the woods by the yellow cottage. When he'd held a knife to Nell's throat.

And the third she had seen in the cafe, reading a newspaper and eating soup.

Three parts of one whole? Three steps in one fate? God! How was she to know?

She had killed them. In the end she'd seen herself standing in the storm, with her sword in her hand. She'd killed because she could, because the need had been so huge.

And the payment horribly dear.

It had been Mac she'd seen running through the storm. Mac who'd been struck down, because she couldn't control what was inside her.

"I won't let it happen," she whispered. "I won't."

"Tell me. Tell me about the dream. It'll help."

"No. This will." She lifted her mouth to his, poured herself into the kiss. "Touch me. God. Make love with me. I need to be with you." Fresh tears spilled as she melted against him. "I need you."

To comfort, to fill, to want. She would take this, and give it. This last time. All that might have been, all that she had let herself wish, would gather together and stream into this perfect act of love.

She could see him in the dark. Every feature, every line, every plane was etched on mind and heart. How could she have fallen so deeply, so hopelessly in love?