For her.

It had known her fear, she thought now.

And it had played with it, taunted her until her knees were water and the screams inside her had slashed her mind like razors.

She'd been too shocked, too frightened to reach for the only weapon she held. Magic.

Now anger began to eke through the terror.

She'd told herself she was a seeker, a woman who took risks, valued knowledge. A woman who possessed defenses and skills most couldn't imagine. Yet here she was quivering at the first real whiff of danger. She stiffened her spine, evened her breathing, then headed straight for the huge circular bar.

Halfway across the silver span of the floor she saw him.

The flood of relief came first, then the pride that she'd succeeded in this initial task so quickly. A trickle of interest worked its way through as she veered in his direction.

The guy cleaned up very well.

His hair was carelessly styled rather than ragged, a shining black and shorter than it had been during their first meeting. Then again, he'd been wounded, troubled and in a h.e.l.l of a fix. He wore black, and it suited him. Just as the watchful, slightly irritable look in those brilliant eyes suited him. With a great deal of her confidence restored, she smiled and stepped into his path.

"I've been looking for you."

Cian paused. He was accustomed to women approaching him. Not that he couldn't get some enjoyment from it, particularly when the woman was exceptional as this one was.

There was a spark in her eyes, jewel green, and a flirtatious hint of amus.e.m.e.nt. Her lips were full, sensuous and curved; her voice low and husky.

Her body was a good one, and poured into a little black dress that showed a great deal of milky skin and strong muscle tone. He might have amused himself with her for a few moments, but for the pendant she wore.

Witches, and worse, those who played at witchcraft, could be troublesome.

"I enjoy being looked for by beautiful women when I have time to be found." He would have left it at that, moved on, but she touched his arm.

He felt something. And apparently so did she, for her eyes narrowed, and the smile faded.

"You're not him. You only look like him." Her hand tightened on his arm, and he sensed power seeking. "But that's not completely true either. d.a.m.n it." She dropped her hand, shook back her hair. "I should've known it wouldn't be so easy." This time he took her arm. "Let's get you a table." In a dark, quiet corner, Cian thought.

Until he knew who or what she was.

"I need information. I need to find someone."

"You need a drink," Cian said pleasantly, and steered her quickly through the crowd.

"Look, I can get my own drink if I want one." Glenna considered causing a scene, but decided it would probably get her tossed out.

She considered a push of power, but knew from experience that depending on magic for every irritation led to trouble.

She glanced around, gauging the situation.

The place was stacked with people on every level. The music was a throb, heavy on the ba.s.s with the female singer purring out the lyrics in a sensual and feline voice.

Very public, very active, Glenna decided with a lot of chrome and blue lighting slicking cla.s.s over s.e.x. What could he possibly do to her under the circ.u.mstances?

"I'm looking for someone." Conversation, she told herself. Keep it conversational and friendly. "I thought you were him. The light in here isn't the best, but you look enough alike to be brothers. It's very important I find him."

"What's his name? Maybe I can help you." "I don't know his name." And the fact that she didn't made her feel foolish. "And okay, I know how that sounds. But I was told he was here. I think he's in trouble. If you'd just-" She started to shove at his hand, found it hard as stone.

What could he do to her in these circ.u.mstances? she thought again. Almost any d.a.m.n thing. With the first fresh flicker of panic tickling her throat, she closed her eyes and reached for power.

His hand flinched on her arm, then his grip tightened. "So, you're a real one," he murmured, and turned those eyes-as steely as his grip-on her. "I think we'll take this upstairs."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

Something akin to the fear she'd felt on the subway worked its way into her. "That was low wattage. Believe me, you don't want me to up the amps."

"Believe me." And his voice was silky.

"You don't want to p.i.s.s me off."

He pulled her behind the curve of open, spiral stairs. She planted her feet, prepared to defend herself by any and all means at her disposal. She brought the four-inch spike of her heel down on his instep, slammed a back-fist into his jaw. Rather than wasting her breath on a scream, she began an incantation. Her breath whooshed out when he lifted her off her feet as if she weighed nothing. Her only satisfaction came from the fact that in thirty seconds, when she finished the spell, he'd be flat on his a.s.s.

That didn't stop her from fighting. She reared back, elbows and feet, and sucked in a breath to add a scream after all.

And the doors on what she saw was a private elevator whisked open.

There he was, flesh and blood. And so like the man currently heaving her over his shoulder she decided she could hate him, too.

"Put me down, you son of a b.i.t.c.h, or I'll turn this place into a moon crater."

When the doors of the transportation box opened, Hoyt was a.s.saulted with noise and smells and lights. They all slammed into his system, stunning his senses. He saw through dazzled eyes, his brother with his arms full of struggling woman.

His woman, he realized with yet another jolt. The witch from his dream was half-naked and using language he'd rarely heard even in the seediest public house. "Is this how you pay someone back for helping you?" She shoved at the curtain of her hair and aimed those sharp green eyes at him.

She shifted them, scanned them up and down King, snarled.

"Come on then," she demanded. "I can take all three of you."

As she was currently over Cian's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Hoyt wasn't certain how she intended to see the threat through. But witches were tricky.

"You're real then," he stated softly. "Did you follow me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, a.s.shole."

Cian shifted her, effortlessly. "Yours?" he said to Hoyt.

"I couldn't say."

"Deal with it." Cian dropped Glenna back on her feet, caught the fist aimed at his face just before it connected. "Do your business," he told her. "Quietly. Then take off. Keep a lid on the magic. Both of you. King."

He walked off. After a grin and a shrug, King trailed after him.

Glenna smoothed down her dress, shook back her hair. "What the h.e.l.l's wrong with you?" "My ribs still pain me a little, but I'm largely healed. Thank you for your help."

She stared at him, then huffed out a breath. "Here's how this is going to work. We're going to sit down, you're going to buy me a drink. I need one."

"I... I have no coin in these pants."

"Typical. I'll buy." She hooked an arm through his to make sure she didn't lose him again, then began to wind through the crowd.

"Did my brother hurt you?"

"What?"

He had to shout. How could anyone have a conversation in such noise? There were too many people in this place. Was it some sort of festival?

There were women writhing in what must have been some sort of ritual dance, and wearing even less than the witch. Others sat at silver tables and watched or ignored, drank from clear tankards and cups.

The music, he thought, came from everywhere at once.

"I asked if my brother hurt you."

"Brother? That fits. Bruised my pride for the most part." She chose the stairs, moving up where the noise wasn't quite so horrific. Still clinging to his arm, she looked right, left, then moved toward a low seat with a candle flickering on the table. Five people were jammed around it, and all seemed to be talking at once.

She smiled at them, and he felt her power hum. "Hi. You really need to get home now, don't you?"

They got up, still chattering, and left the table littered with those clear drinking vessels, some nearly full.

"Sorry to cut their evening short, but I think this takes precedence. Sit down, will you?"

She dropped down, stretched out long, bare legs.

"G.o.d, what a night." She waved a hand in the air, fingered her pendant with the other as she studied his face. "You look better than you did.

Are you healed?"

"Well enough. What place are you from?"

"Right to business." She glanced over at the waitress who came to their table to clear it.

"I'll have a Grey Goose martini, straight up, two olives. Dry as dust." She c.o.c.ked a brow at Hoyt.

When he said nothing, she held up two fingers.

She tucked her hair behind one ear as she leaned toward him. There were silver coils dangling from her ear in a Celtic knot pattern. "I dreamed of you before that night.

Twice before I think," she began. "I try to pay attention to my dreams, but I could never hold on to these, until the last one. I think in the first, you were in a graveyard, and you were grieving.

My heart broke for you, I remember feeling that.

Odd, I remember more clearly now. The next time I dreamed of you, I saw you on a cliff, over the sea. I saw a woman with you who wasn't a woman. Even in the dream I was afraid of her.

So were you."

She sat back, shuddering once. "Oh yes, I remember that now. I remember I was terrified, and there was a storm. And you... you struck out at her. I pushed-I remember I pushed what I had toward you, to try to help. I knew she was...

she was wrong. Horribly wrong. There was lightning and screams-" She wished actively for her drink. "I woke up, and for an instant, the fear woke with me. Then it all faded."

When he still said nothing, she drew in a breath. "Okay, we'll stick with me for a while. I used my scrying mirror, I used my crystal, but I couldn't see clearly. Only in sleep. You brought me to that place in the woods, in the circle. Or something did. Why?"

"It was not my work."

"It wasn't mine." She tapped nails painted red as her lips on the table. "You have a name, handsome?"

"I'm Hoyt Mac Cionaoith." Her smile turned her face into something that all but stopped his heart. "Not from around here, are you?"

"No."

"Ireland, I can hear that. And in the dream we spoke Gaelic, which I don't-not really. But I think it's more than where. It's when, too, isn't it? Don't worry about shocking me. I'm immune tonight."

He waged an internal debate. She'd been shown to him, and she had come within the circle. Nothing that meant harm to him should have been able to come within his protective ring. While he had been told to seek a witch, she was nothing, nothing that he'd expected.

Yet she'd worked to heal him, and had stayed with him while the wolves had stalked his ring. She'd come to him now for answers, and perhaps for help.

"I came through the Dance of the G.o.ds, nearly a thousand years in time."

"Okay." She whistled out a breath.

"Maybe not completely immune. That's a lot to take on faith, but with everything that's been going on, I'm willing to take the leap." She lifted the gla.s.s the waitress set down, drank immediately. "Especially with this to cushion the fall. Run a tab, will you?" Glenna asked and took a credit card out of her purse. "Something's coming," she said when they were alone again. "Something bad. Big, fat evil."

"You don't know."

"I can't see it all. But I feel it, and I know I'm connected with you on this. Not thrilled about that at this point." She drank some more.

"Not after what I saw on the subway."

"I don't understand you."

"Something very nasty in a designer suit,"

she explained. "It said she would feed on me.

She-the woman on the cliff, I think. I'm going out on a limb here, a really shaky one. Are we dealing with vampires?"

"What is the subway?"

Glenna pressed her hands to her eyes.

"Okay, we'll spend some time later bringing you up to date on current events, modes of ma.s.s transportation and so on, but right now, I need to know what I'm facing. What's expected of me."