Steve rubbed his shoulder where it had hit the wall. All he said was "Yeah,"

but his smile wasn't nice.

"I only hope he doesn't die soon," Vicky said, examining the pale face critic ally. "You hit him pretty hard."

"He's not going to die," Rashel said. "In fact, he'll probably wake up in a f ew minutes. And we'd better hope he's not one of the really powerful telepath s."

Nyala looked up sharply. "What?"

"Oh-all vampires are telepathic," Rashel said absently. "But there's a big range as to how powerful they are. Most of them can only communicate over a short distance-like within the same house, say. But a few are a lot stronger .".

"Even if he is strong, it won't matter unless there are other vampires around, " Vicky said.

"Which there may be, if you and Elliot saw another one last night."

"Well . . ." Vicky hesitated, then said, "We can check outside, make sure he doesn't have any friends hiding around that warehouse."Steve was nodding, and Nyala was listening intently. Rashel started to say t hat from what she'd seen, they couldn't find a vampire in hiding to save the ir lives-but then she changed her mind.

"Good idea," she said. "You take Nyala and do that. It's better to have three people than two. I'll tie him up before he comes around. I've got bast cord."

Vicky glanced over quickly, but her hostility seemed to have faded since Ra shel had knocked the vampire over the head. "Okay, but let's use the handcu ffs. Nyala, run up and get them."

Nyala did, and she and Vicky fixed the wooden stocks on the vampire's wrist s. Then they left with Steve.

Rashel sat on the floor.

She didn't know what she was doing, or why she'd sent Nyala away. All she kn ew was that she wanted to be alone, and that she felt . . . rotten.

It wasn't that she didn't have anger. There were times when she got so angry a t the universe that it was actually like a little voice inside her whispering, Kill, kill, kill. Times when she wanted to strike out blindly, without caring who she hurt.

But just now the little voice was silent, and Rashel felt sick.

To keep herself busy, she tied his feet with bast, a cord made from the inner bark of trees. It was as good for holding a vampire as Vicky's ridiculous ha ndcuffs.

When it was done, she turned the flashlight on him again.

He was good-looking. Clean features that were strongly chiseled but almost delicate. A mouth that at the moment looked rather innocent, but which migh t be sensuous if he were awake. A body that was lithe and flat-muscled, if not very tall.

All of which had no effect on Rashel. She'd seen attractive vampires before-i n fact, an inordinate number of them seemed to be really beautiful. It didn't mean anything. It only stood as a contrast to what they were like inside.

The tall man who'd killed her mother had been handsome. She could still see his face, his golden eyes.

Filthy parasites. Night World sc.u.m. They weren't really people. They were monsters.

But they could still feel pain, just like any human. She'd hurt this one when she hit him.

Rashel jumped up and started to pace the cellar.

All right. This vampire deserved to die. They all did. But that didn't mean she had to wait for Vicky to come back and poke him with pointy sticks.

Rashel knew now why she'd sent Nyala away. So she could give the vampire a clean death. Maybe he didn't deserve it, but she couldn't stand around an d watch Vicky kill him slowly. She couldn't.

She stopped pacing and went to the unconscious boy.The flashlight on the floor was still pointing at him, so she could see him c learly. He was wearing a lightweight black shirt-no sweater or coat. Vampires didn't need protection from the cold. Rashel unb.u.t.toned the shirt, exposing his chest. Although the angled tip of her bokken could pierce clothing, it wa s easier to drive it straight into vampire flesh without any barrier in betwe en.

Standing with one foot on either side of the vampire's waist, she drew the h eavy wooden sword. She held it with both hands, one near the guard, the othe r near the k.n.o.b on the end of the hilt.

She positioned the end exactly over the vampire's heart.

"This kitten has claws," she whispered, hardly aware she was saying it.

Then she took a deep breath, eyes shut. She needed to work to focus, because she'd never done anything like this before. The vampires she'd killed had u sually been caught in the middle of some despicable act-and they'd all been fighting at the end. She'd never staked one that was lying still.

Concentrate, she thought. You need zanshin, continuing mind, awareness of everything without fixing on anything.

She felt her feet becoming part of the cold concrete beneath them, her musc les and bones becoming extensions of the ground. The strike would carry the energy of the earth itself.

Her hands brought the sword up. She was ready for the kill. She opened her eyes to perfect her aim.

And then she saw that the vampire was awake. His eyes were open and he wa s looking at her.

CHAPTER 5.

Rashel froze. Her sword remained in the air, poised over the vampire's heart .

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the vampire said. "Go on and do it."

Rashel didn't know what she was waiting for. The vampire was in a position t o block her sword with his wooden handcuffs, but he didn't do any such thing . She could tell by his body language that he wasn't going to, either. Inste ad he just lay there, looking up at her with eyes that were as dark and empt y as the depths of s.p.a.ce.

His hair was tousled on his forehead and his mouth was a bleak line. He didn 't seem afraid. He just went on staring with those fathomless eyes.

All right, Rashel thought. Do it. Even the leech is telling you to. Do it fast- now.

But instead she found herself pivoting and stepping slowly away from him.

"Sorry," she said out loud. "I don't take orders from parasites."

She kept her sword at the ready in case he made any sudden moves. But all he did was glance down at the wooden handcuffs, wiggle his wrists in them, and then lie back.

"I see," he said with a strange smile. "So it's torture this time, right? Well, that should be amusing for you."

Stake him, dummy, came the little voice in Rashel's head. Don't talk to him.

It's dangerous to get in a conversation with his kind.

But she couldn't refocus herself. In a minute, she told the voice. First I hav e to get my own control back.

She knelt in her ready-for-action crouch and picked up the flashlight, turnin g it full on his face. He blinked and looked away, squinting.

There. Now she could see him, but he couldn't see her. Vampire eyes were hy persensitive to light. And even if he did manage to get a glimpse of her, s he was wearing her scarf. She had all the advantages, and it made her feel more in command of the situation.

"Why would you think we want to torture you?" she said.

He smiled at the ceiling, not trying to look at her. "Because I'm still alive ." He raised the handcuffs. "And aren't these traditional? A few vampires fro m the south sh.o.r.e have turned up mutilated with stocks like these on. It seeme d to have been done for fun." Smile.

Vicky's work, Rashel thought. She wished he would stop smiling. It was such a disturbing smile, beautiful and a little mad.

"Unless," the vampire was going on, "it's information you want."

Rashel snorted. "Would I be likely to get information from you if I did wan t it?" "Well." Smile. "Not likely." "I didn't think so," Rashel said dryly.

He laughed out loud. Oh, G.o.d, Rashel thought. Stake him. She didn't know w hat was wrong with her. Okay, he was charming-in a weird way. But she'd k nown other charming vampires-smooth, practiced flatterers who tried to swee t-talk or cajole their way out of being staked. Some had tried to seduce he r. Almost all had tried mind control. It was only because Rashel had the wi ll to resist telepathy that she was alive today.

But this vampire wasn't doing any of the ordinary things-and when he laughed , it made Rashers heart thump oddly. His whole face changed when he laughed.

A sort of light shone in it. Girl, you are in trouble. Kill him quick. "Loo k," she said, and she was surprised to find her voice a little shaky. "This isn't personal. And you probably don't care, but I'm not the one who was goi ng to torture you. This is business, and it's what I have to do." She took a deep breath and reached for the sword by her knee.

He turned his face to the light. He wasn't smiling now and there was no amuse ment in his voice when he said, "I understand. You've got . . . honor." Looki ng back at the ceiling, he added, "And you're right, this is the way it alway s has to end when our two races meet. It's kill or be killed. The law of nature."

He was speaking to her as one warrior to another. Suddenly Rashel felt somet hing she'd never felt for a vampire before. Respect. A strange wish that the y weren't on opposite sides in this war. A regret that they could never be a nything but deadly enemies.

He's somebody I could talk to, she thought. An odd loneliness had taken hold of her. She hadn't realized she cared about having anyone to talk to.

She found herself saying awkwardly, "Is there anybody you want notified-a fterward? I mean, do you have any family? I could make sure the news gets around, so they'd know what had happened to you."

She didn't expect him to actually give her any names. That would be crazy.

In this game knowledge was power, with each side trying to find out who t he players on the other side were. If you could identify someone as a vamp ire-or a vampire hunter-you knew who to kill.

It was Batman and Catwoman all over. The important thing was to preserve y our secret ident.i.ty.

But this vampire, who was obviously a lunatic, said thoughtfully, "Well, yo u could send a note to my adopted father. He's Hunter Redfern. Sorry I can'

t give you an address, but he should be somewhere down east." Another smile . "I forgot to tell you my name. It's Quinn."

Rashel felt as if she'd been hit with an oak club.

Quinn.

One of the most dangerous vampires in all the Night World. Maybe the most dangerous of the made vampires, the ones who'd started out human. She knew him by reputation-every vampire hunter did. He was supposed to be a deadl y fighter and a brilliant strategist; clever, resourceful... and cold as i ce. He despised humans, held them in utter contempt. He wanted the Night W orld to wipe them out, except for a few to be used for food.

I was wrong, Rashel thought dazedly. I should have let Vicky torture him. I 'm sure he deserves it, if any of them do. G.o.d only knows what he's done in his time.

Quinn had turned his head toward her again, looking straight into the flashli ght even though it must be hurting his eyes.

"So you see, you'd better kill me fast," he said in a voice soft as snow fallin g. "Because that's certainly what I'm going to do to you if I get loose."

Rashel gave a strained laugh. "Am I supposed to be scared?"

"Only if you have the brains to know who I am."

Now he sounded tired and scornful. "Which obviously you don't."

"Well, let me see. I seem to remember something about the Redferns. . . .

Aren't they the family who controls the vampire part of the Night World Co uncil? The most important family of all the lamia, the born vampires. Desc ended directly from Maya, the legendary first vampire. And Hunter Redfern is their leader, the upholder of Night World law, the one who colonized Am erica with vampires back in the sixteen hundreds. Tell me if I'm getting a ny of this wrong."

He gave her a cold glance.

"You see, we have our sources. And I seem to remember them mentioning your name, too. You were made a vampire by Hunter . . . and since his own chil dren were all daughters, you're also his heir."

Quinn laughed sourly. "Yes, well, that's an on-again, off-again thing. You m ight say I have a love-hate relationship with the Redferns. We spend most of the time wishing each other at the bottom of the Atlantic."

"Teh, vampire family infighting," Rashel said. "Why is it always so hard to get along with your folks?" Despite her light words, she had to focus to kee p control of her breathing.

It wasn't fear. She truly wasn't scared of him. It was something like confusi on. Clearly, she should be killing him at this moment instead of chatting with him. She couldn't understand why she wasn't doing it.

The only excuse she had was that it seemed to make him even more confused and angry than it did her.

"I don't think you've heard enough about me," he said, showing his teeth. "

I'm your worst nightmare, human. I even shock other vampires. Like old Hunt er ... he has certain ideas about propriety. How you kill, and who. If he k new some of the things I do, he'd fall down dead himself."

Good old Hunter, Rashel thought. The stiff moral patriarch of the Redfern c lan, still caught up in the seventeenth century. He might be a vampire, but he was definitely a New Englander.

"Maybe I should find a way to tell him," she said whimsically.

Quinn gave her another cold look, this time tempered with respect. "If I tho ught you could find him, I'd worry."

Rashel was suddenly struck by something. "You know, I don't think I've eve r heard anyone say your first name. I mean, I presume you have one."

He blinked. Then, as if he were surprised himself, he said, "John."

"John Quinn. John."

"I didn't invite you to call me it."

"All right, whatever." She said it absently, deep in thought. John Quinn. S uch a normal name, a Boston name. The name of a real person. It made her think of him as a person, instead of as Quinn the dreadful.

"Look," Rashel said, and then she asked him something she'd never asked a Night Person before. She said, "Did you want Hunter Redfern to make you a vampire?"

There was a long pause. Then Quinn said expressionlessly, "As a matter of fac t, I wanted to kill him for it."

"I see." I'd want to do the same, Rashel thought. She didn't mean to ask any more questions, but she found herself saying, "Then why did he do it? I m ean, why pick you?"