"That's easy for you to say, your mother's dead!" I sat on the couch with a huff. "You don't have to worry if she'll hate you for who you're sleeping with, or if you'll ever see her again if you tell her the truth! What am I supposed to do? Risk my relationship with the only person in my life who's been there for me? She'll take one look at you, and all she'll see is fangs. She'll never forgive me, why can't you understand that?"

My voice broke over the last sentence and I buried my head in my hands. Great. Now I wasn't faking it. I was getting a migraine.

"You're right, my mum's dead. I'll never know what she would have thought of the man I've become. If she'd be proud...or despise me for the choices I've made. I will tell you this, though. If she were alive, I'd show her what I was. All of it. She wouldn't deserve any less, and quite frankly, neither would I. But this isn't about me. Look, I'm not insisting to meet your mum.

All I'm saying is that sooner or later, you'll have to come to terms with yourself. You can't wish away the vampire in you, and you shouldn't keep atoning for it. You should figure out who you are and what you need, and then don't apologize for it. Not to me, to your mum, or to anyone."

He was at the door before I realized what he was doing.

"You're leaving? Are you-are you breaking up with me?"

Bones turned around. "No, Kitten. I'm just giving you a chance to think about things without me to distract you."

"But what about Hennessey?" Now I was using him as an excuse.

"Francesca still doesn't have anything concrete, and we've struck out searching for him on our own. Won't hurt to give it a small rest. If anything does come up, I'll ring you. Promise." He gave me a last, long look before opening the door. "Goodbye."

I heard it shut, but it didn't register. I sat there for twenty more minutes staring at it, and then magically, there was a knock.

I leapt up in relief. "Bones!"

It was a young man in a uniform. "Pizza delivery," he said with mechanical cheerfulness. "That'll be seventeen-fifty."

In a daze, I gave him a twenty, told him to keep the change, and then shut the door behind him and started to cry.

TWENTY.

T IMMIE LOOKED AT ME WITH THE MORBID fascination you'd give an unpredictable virus under a microscope.

"You're having another pint?"

I paused with my spoon over the chocolate ice cream, raising a challenging brow.

"Why?"

He glanced at the two empty containers near my feet. Or he could have been staring at the bottle of gin balanced next to me on the couch. Whatever.

"No reason!"

It had been four days since I'd seen or spoken to Bones. Doesn't sound that long, does it? Well, it felt like weeks. Timmie knew something was up. Out of courtesy or fear, he hadn't asked why a certain motorcycle hadn't been parked in our community driveway lately.I went through the motions. Attended cla.s.ses. Studied feverishly. Ate sugar and junk food until my insulin levels spiked dangerously. But I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even stand to lie in bed, because I kept reaching out for someone who wasn't there.

I'd picked up the phone a hundred times a day only to drop it before dialing, because I didn't know what to say.

Timmie kept me from climbing the walls. He'd come over, watch movies until all hours, talk or not talk depending on my mood, and just be there. I couldn't have been more grateful, but I still felt alone. It wasn't his fault that I had to pretend, monitor my speech, and otherwise mask half of myself as usual. No, that wasn't his fault. It was mine for pushing away the one person who'd accepted me unconditionally, even with all the flaws and oddities of both my halves combined.

"It's so true, you know," he said, nodding at the TV. "They exist."

"Who?"

I hadn't really been watching, too wrapped up in my inner turmoil.

"Men in black. Secret government agents whose job is to control and police extraterrestrial or paranormal phenomenon. They exist."

"Um," I said disinterestedly. So do vampires, buddy. In fact, you're sitting next to one. Sort of.

"You know, I heard this movie was based on actual events?"

I gave a cursory glance at the TV and saw Will Smith battling it out with an alien monster. Oh, Men in Black.

"Could be." Giant alien c.o.c.kroaches that preyed on humans? Who was I to scream impossible?

"You ever going to tell me why you two broke up?

That got my attention. "We're not broken up," I denied immediately, more to myself than to him. "We're, ah, taking a break to evaluate things, and, um, reexamine our relationship, so...I stuffed him in a closet!" I burst out in shame.

Timmie's eyes goggled. "Is he still there?"

His expression was cla.s.sic, but my sense of humor didn't rise to the occasion. "My mother stopped by unexpectedly on Sunday, and I freaked out and shoved him in the closet until she left. After that came the whole 'evaluate' thing. I think he's getting sick of my issues, and what's worse, I don't blame him."

Timmie had recovered from his earlier misa.s.sumption. "Why does your mom hate foreigners so much?"

How to explain?

"Well...you know how I said we had something in common because neither of us knew our fathers? Mine's a little more complicated than yours is. My father was...English. He date-raped my mother, so...she's hated Englishmen ever since. You know my boyfriend's English, and I'm, uh, I'm half English, which she's never been real happy about. If she finds out I'm dating someone English, she'll, ah, think I'm turning my back on her and becoming...a foreigner."

Timmie turned the sound down on the TV. His face twisted with indecision, and then he squared his shoulders.

"Cathy...that's the stupidest reason I've ever heard."

I sighed. "You don't understand."

"Look, your boyfriend scares me," Timmie went on earnestly. "But if he treats you well and all your mom's got against him is that he's English, then I stick to my first response that it's stupid. Your mom can't hate a whole country because of one person! Everyone's got something in them that somebody's going to have a problem with, but your mom should be more concerned about whether he makes you happy than where he's from."

What he said sounded so simple! So elementary, he could have ended his sentence with, Duh. My bad example of her prejudice had broken the situation down to its most basic elements, and suddenly I realized it was that simple. Either I went through the rest of my life punishing myself for my bloodline-atoning, as Bones had noted-or I didn't. Simple. So incredibly simple, I hadn't been able to wrap my mind around it before.

"Timmie," I said with absolute conviction, "you're a genius."

His baffled countenance returned. "Huh?"

I got up, kissed him full on the mouth, and then dashed to the phone.

"I'm calling him," I announced. "Got any advice for apologizing? 'Cause I'm not good at that, either."

Timmie still sat where he was, stunned. "What? Oh. Say you're sorry."

I grinned at him. "Genius," I repeated, dialing Bones's number.

He answered on the first ring. "Francesca?"

I froze, suddenly speechless. Okay, not what I'd antic.i.p.ated! His voice came again a second later.

"Kitten, it's you. I'm already on my way over. Something's wrong."

"What is it?" I asked, forgetting my concern over how he'd answered the phone.

"Get dressed if you need to. I'm hanging up; I have to keep this line clear. I'll be there in five minutes."

He did hang up before I could ask him anything further. Timmie watched me expectantly.

"Well?"

I started throwing on a sweater over my T-shirt. It was cold out. The sweatpants should be fine, but Timmie had to leave so I could get my knives. "He's coming over, but we have to go right away. Something...something came up."

"Oh." Timmie got up, shuffled his feet for a second, and then blurted, "If it doesn't work out with him, would you consider going out with me?"

I froze in the middle of putting on my shoes. Wow. Didn't see that one coming.

"I know I'm not suave or have that bad-boy thing going on like he does, but we get along really well and your mom already thinks I'm your boyfriend, so...I've kind of been preapproved," he finished gamely. "What do you say?"

That if Bones could hear you, these would be your last words.

"Timmie, any girl would be lucky to go out with you. Any girl, including me, but I'm hoping to work things out with my boyfriend, so you understand I can't answer a hypothetical like that right now."

I didn't want to hurt him, and I was frankly out of my league. Turning someone down gently wasn't my forte. Usually my form of turning someone down was shoving a stake through his heart while smirking, Gotcha!

The sound of motorcycle squealing thankfully cut off any further conversation. Timmie's eyes widened in alarm. He bolted from my apartment with a hasty, "Good night!" while I went into my bedroom and pulled my weapons box out from under my bed. That action right there highlighted why I could never date him. It wasn't his lack of suaveness, or the fact that I only wanted to be with the man currently striding up my steps. It was that some things could never be explained. Let alone preapproved.

I didn't have a chance to tell Bones about my epiphany. His first words on entering my apartment took precedence.

"I think Francesca's been caught."

Oh, s.h.i.t. Instantly I was contrite over every mean thought I'd ever had about her. "What happened?"

He paced in frustration. "She rang me two days ago, said she was getting closer to finding out who was pulling the legal strings for Hennessey. It wasn't a judge or a police chief, but someone higher up than that. She couldn't tell me more, she was still digging.

Then 'round an hour ago she called me, and she was very agitated. Said she wanted me to pull her out, because what Hennessey was involved in went too deep. I told her I'd meet her tonight, and we were arranging a place when she said, 'Someone's coming,' and the b.l.o.o.d.y phone cut off. I haven't heard from her since."

"Do you know where she was?"

His eyes were shooting green sparks. "Of course not! If I did, I'd be on my way there!"

I backed up at the anger in his voice. He made a constricted noise and caught me in one stride, pulling me next to him.

"I'm sorry, Kitten. This has twisted me into nastiness. I can't imagine what would have scared her so much that she'd try to bolt, but if Hennessey caught her spying on him, it's nothing compared to what he'll do to her as punishment."

Bones wasn't exaggerating. I might not have liked Francesca, but the thought of what she could be going through right now made me sick.

"It's all right. Don't apologize. Look, let's a.s.sume for a minute that it's not as bad as it could be and start from there. If she had to get out of somewhere in a hurry and she couldn't contact you yet, where might she go? Is there any place she'd feel safe? You know her. Try to think like she would."

His fingers flexed on my shoulders. Not painfully, but not a ma.s.sage, either. From his expression, I doubted he was even aware of it.

"She might go to Bite," he mused. "It's the only place in this area where there's no violence allowed on the premises. It's worth a shot. Will you come with me?"

I gave him a look. "You think you can stop me?"

He almost smiled, but there was too much worry on his face for it to take. "Right now, luv, I'm glad I can't."

The club where we'd had our first date and I was subsequently drugged bore no sign of Francesca. That same brawny female bouncer was at the door, and Bones pulled her aside and gave her his cell number in case she saw Francesca later. Next we tried the hotel where we'd met Francesca a few weeks ago. Nothing. Bones called Spade, who was still in New York, but he hadn't heard from her, either. As the hours dragged on with no word, Bones began to look more and more grim. It was clear this wasn't going to have a fairy-tale ending. I felt helpless.

By dawn, we'd checked the hotel and Bite again, just in case, but with no more luck. Bones's cell hadn't rung once. He started heading back in the direction of my apartment when he suddenly slowed his bike, pulling over to the shoulder of the road.

Up ahead a couple miles on the highway were the flashing red and blue lights of multiple police cars. What little traffic there was on the road this early was being routed into the single far lane. The other three were blocked off with flares that went all the way into the nearby trees.

"There must be an accident, we should take another way," I began before gazing around with a feeling of deja vu. "This place looks familiar...."

His jaw was granite as he turned around. "It should. This is where Hennessey dragged you away to bleed you. Well, not right here. Up where the coppers are."

I stared at him and those flashing lights beyond, which now seemed more ominous. "Bones..."

"I can hear them," he said in a flat, emotionless tone. "They've found a body."

His hands were knotted into fists on the handlebars, and very softly, I nudged him.

"It might not be her. Keep going."

He revved up the bike and pulled back onto the highway, tersely saying only not to take my helmet off no matter what. I knew he wanted to keep my features hidden. Just in case there was anyone watching.

With the reduced speed and merging, it took us over thirty minutes to reach that two-mile marker where police activity was the thickest. I heard them, too, talking among themselves, calling in the medical examiner over the squawk of the police radios, taking detailed notes on how the body was found....

Every head pa.s.sing that area turned to gawk, so the officer directing traffic probably didn't think much of the stare Bones leveled at the form on the ground that was the center of attention. I only caught a glimpse-and then my arms tightened around him.

Long black hair spiraled out from behind the policeman bent over the body. His bulk concealed most of it as he meticulously took photographs, but that hair was distinctive. And the arm partially visible was skeletalized.

I was so numbed at seeing Francesca's remains, decomposed to her true age as they had been, that I barely noticed the weaving, erratic way Bones drove. He took back roads, gravel roads, and no roads before reaching the woods bordering the cave. If anyone had tried to follow us, they would have gotten lost ten times over. Then he effortlessly carried the bike one-handed the last two miles to cut the noise while I walked beside him. It wasn't until we were well inside the cave that I spoke.

"I'm sorry. It's not adequate, I know, but I am so sorry Hennessey killed her."