He was halfway up to the second floor when he turned back and called down, "Where's Daria?"

"She was in there." Louise pointed toward the room into which Daria had disappeared.

"Would you ask her to wait with you here until I come down? I'm not getting a good feeling."

Louise dialed the number for campus security. On the third ring, it was picked up.

"This is President Burnette. Was a guard a.s.signed to the library tonight? Did he check in? Has he been in touch since? I'm over at the library and there's no one here...yes, I'm positive. There's no one at the guard's post, and the building appears to be empty. Yes, please, page him. I'll hold."

She looked up to see Connor running down the steps.

"I found your Mrs. Weathers. At least, I'm a.s.suming that's who she is." He grabbed the other phone from the desk and dialed 911. "I'm afraid we're going to need the police here after all."

"You don't mean Gloria..." Louise went pale. "Is she...?"

"Someone is." He looked around. "Louise, where's Daria?"

"She was in there. I was going to check after I called security-"

He shoved the phone into her hands. "Tell the police we need them now. Probable homicide."

He hurried to the doorway where Louise had last seen Daria.

"Oh, sweet Jesus..."

Seconds later he was bending over Daria, checking for a pulse, his own heart all but stopping at the sight of the blood that puddled under her head.

"Please be alive...please, please be alive."

He located a pulse and began to breath again. "Come on, baby, hang in there. Hang in there..."

"The Howeville police are on their way..." Louise stopped three steps into the room. "Oh my G.o.d, is that-?"

"Call 911 back. Tell them to send an ambulance immediately," he said without looking up.

All of Connor's instincts told him to seek, to find, to break the attacker. But he continued to kneel at Daria's side, wanting to touch her, afraid to touch her, until he heard the sirens stop in front of the building. When the EMTs appeared in the doorway, he waved them over and stepped back, and watched while her vital signs were checked and she was gently lifted onto a stretcher.

Then he left the room without a sound and disappeared into the night. For Connor, the game had just become personal. The killer had no idea just how dangerous a move that had been.

"How are you feeling?"

The unfamiliar voice was soft and melodious, with a slight accent Daria could not readily identify. She opened her eyes but could not get them to focus.

"Daria?" the voice asked. "Are you coming back to us now?"

A face floated in front of her. Daria tried to raise her head, but the pain was like a bolt through her brain.

"Easy, Daria." The mouth on the face moved. "Don't try to sit up."

"Who are you?" Daria whispered through very dry lips.

"I've been sitting here with you for so long, I'd almost forgotten we hadn't been introduced." The face moved closer. "I'm Sabina Bokhari."

"Sabina." Daria's voice was weak. "I've heard so much about you. I've wanted to meet you..."

"And I've wanted to meet you, too. I'm a great admirer of your work."

Daria tried to wet her lips.

"You need water, don't you?" The woman rose and walked away, then returned seconds later with a gla.s.s of water and a straw. "Here. Let's see if you can take a sip."

Daria sucked on the straw, grateful.

"Thank you," she said.

"More?"

"Please."

"Not too fast, though, all right?"

Daria nodded slightly and took a few more sips.

"Thank you," she said again. "How...why...?"

"I was on my way to the library-my office is in the bas.e.m.e.nt-when the ambulance pulled up. I saw Louise on the steps, so I went to find out what happened. I thought perhaps Mrs. Weathers had another heart attack." She swallowed hard. "Anyway, Louise told me what happened. She didn't want you to be in the hospital alone, and since the police needed to question her, she couldn't leave the university grounds. I offered to accompany you and wait with you until you woke up."

"Connor..." Daria frowned.

"Connor?"

"Connor Shields. He was with us, in the library."

"The man from the FBI?"

"Yes."

"I didn't see him, but I heard Louise tell the police he was in the building. Perhaps he was looking for whoever did this to you."

"Did they find the librarian?"

"Mrs. Weathers, yes. Yes, they did." Sabina's dark eyes clouded.

"What?" Daria asked.

"She was found on the second floor. She was..."

"She's dead?" Daria struggled to sit despite the pain. "Dear G.o.d, Sabina, is she dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How?"

"I'm not sure," Sabina said. "She was such a nice woman. I'd gotten to know her well over the years. I spent a lot of time in the library. I considered her a friend."

"I'm so sorry." Daria reached out for Sabina's hand.

Sabina nodded her thanks. "The last time I saw her, in June, before I left for the summer, she mentioned that she was planning a ten-day trip to Tuscany in the fall with her sister. They were going to attend a cooking school and go on a wine tour. She was very excited about it."

"Did she have other family?"

"Besides the sister, I don't believe so. Her husband pa.s.sed away some years ago, before I came to Howe. She never mentioned any children. I imagine Louise has already called the sister."

"I feel as if we've opened a ma.s.sive can of worms and all of these horrible, ugly things are crawling out." Daria covered her face with her hands.

"You mean because of the museum?"

"Yes."

"Louise was explaining to us-to me and the others who were with us last night-about the murders. About how the collectors who'd acquired the pieces that had been stolen from the museum had been killed so brutally." She shivered. "It almost makes you believe in the curse, doesn't it?"

"What curse?" Daria frowned.

"The one about the G.o.ddess seeking revenge on anyone who stole what belonged to her."

"Where did you hear that?" The woman had Daria's complete attention.

"I read about it several years ago. It was in a book I'd picked up somewhere while traveling."

"What was the book?"

"I don't recall the t.i.tle, but it was an old volume about the oral tradition of storytelling in ancient times. The author related several versions of the same tales and demonstrated how they were altered to reflect the different cultures as they were pa.s.sed along the Silk Route."

"What did the book say about this supposed curse?"

"That the Sisters of Shandihar-the high priestesses who ruled the city-had been anointed by Ereshkigal to take her place on earth, to speak for her. Their decrees were her decrees and were to be obeyed without question, or the transgressor would be punished."

"We know the preferred method of punishment," Daria interjected.

"According to the author of the book, if a guilty party died before they were punished, their descendants would be cursed, stalked by the gallas."

"The gallas." Daria was sitting straight up now. "The demon spirits sent to earth by Ereshkigal to pull sinners down to the Underworld."

"Yes, the sinners, or their descendants. It's that whole sins of the father thing."

"Or in my case," Daria murmured, "the sins of the great-grandfather."

FOURTEEN.

"W ho is Gail?"

Daria opened her eyes slowly and blinked against the bright lights above her bed in the hospital room.

"What?" She turned her head to find Connor seated there. "What did you say?"

"I asked you who Gail is." He got up and sat on the edge of the bed. "You were muttering something in your sleep about Gail."

"The gallas." She forced herself to sit up. "The demon spirits of Shandihar."

"And you said you didn't do nightmares." He leaned forward and pushed several errant blond strands behind her left ear. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I plowed headfirst into a wall." She raised a hand to touch the side of her head, then thought better of it. "They said they had to shave part of my head for the st.i.tches. How bad do I look?"

"You look beautiful." He took her hand.

She rolled her eyes and tried to laugh it off.

"Yeah, I'm a real beauty. My face is black and blue and my hair is-"

"Stop it," he said gently. "You are beautiful, bruises, st.i.tches, head shaved or not. Actually, there's just a tiny bald spot there, but once the st.i.tches are out, your hair will cover it. Doesn't matter to me."

She felt herself blush, and the knowledge that she was blushing turned her even redder.

"Don't even try to make me believe that no one's ever told you how pretty you are."

"Connor, I..." She bit her bottom lip. "Thank you. For the compliments. It means a lot to me, coming from you."

"That's better."

"What day is it?"

"It's Wednesday."

"Morning or afternoon?"

"Afternoon. It's three o'clock," he told her.

"Can I go back to the house?"

"That's what we're waiting to find out."

"I feel a lot better. I really do." She eased herself up a little more. "I really would like to leave."