"Self-preservation," I admit.

"Ah, the girl I thought you were wouldn't know what self-preservation was."

I jerk back. "What did you think of me?"

He runs a hand through my hair. "Well, initially? You live in a penthouse filled with priceless art. You go to a private school and have a maid. I thought you were lonely, but..." When I raise a brow he says, "My early judgment was only natural."

My eyes narrow. "Then why did you want to kiss me?"

Wood pops in the fire.

His fingers caress the skin of my neck. "Well, you did look super hot in those reindeer shorts." I almost laugh again. The intense look in his eyes stops me. "Later I realized the girl I got to know deserves far better than me."

I frown, thinking of the rich boy statement he'd made at the hotel. "Why would you say that?"

He falls back against the couch and stares at the fire. "I'm a criminal. I live in a basement. I*m...no good for anyone, but you...sometimes the way you look at me, I can't help but hope."

So he had noticed my idiot mooneyes. My fingers turn his jaw. I almost wince at the look in his dark eyes. They're full of self-loathing. "You're a survivor. You help others like Song and Juan. You take care of Ping and Chang. You refused to kidnap me. You're good," his hand covers mine, "so much better than me."

He shakes his head, but his other hand brushes my cheek and pulls me close. This time when his mouth covers mine my world flips over completely and the burst of color melds into a kaleidoscope. His weight pushes me back into the pile of blankets. My fingers dig into his back. His teeth scrape mine, and my skin heats to the tips of my toes.

Then the door crashes open.

Chapter 43*Snow.

Startled, we jump apart.

Smith stands in the opening dressed in his normal black. A snarl's etched into his long face. He looks like the Grim Reaper, and it's evident he wants his dues. Terror slithers like a snake up my spine when he points a gun at us. "Sorry to interrupt the fun, but it's time to go."

Wearing a long, white fur coat Mali breezes through the doorway and terror erupts in every one of my pores. Once again, my body threatens to faint. Even with the gun in his hand, she is more frightening than Smith.

"Ah, mommy's cabin," she says. I step back until my heel bumps into the stone hearth. Jai doesn't move. "Reliving the past? Mourning your dear departed mother?" she hisses from her heavily painted face. Fright overrides the painful purpose of her words. I can't even respond. She raises a thin brow at me and points a red nail at Jai. "Shoot the boy."

Without a thought, I leap in front of him. "No!"

Smith aims the gun and Jai pushes me behind him.

"Not here," she says with a lip curl. "Take him outside." My fingers find the poker next to the fire. Her eyes narrow on me. Her boot heels click across the wood. "Well, if she's going to be difficult just shoot him in here."

I remember her not wanting Smith to leave any marks. Although I can't fathom why, I know it's important to her. I lift the sharp end to my cheek. Hard enough to press in not gouge.

"Don't!" Mali yells, raising her hands for me to stop. Smith's eyes narrow on me.

I press the tip harder and pain shoots across my face. I ignore it. "Leave him here alive."

Jai steps back. The other fire instruments lay within his reach.

"Get it away from your face," she says through clenched teeth.

I twist the poker. "Tell Smith to lower the gun and stay where he is."

Her eyes constrict to slits. She nods at Smith, who looks angry at the request, then she faces Jai. "I wouldn't touch those or I will let him shoot you." Jai doesn't move until Mali adds, "Then her." Jai's fingers brush a shovel. He drops his hand as she slinks around the couch.

"Get back!" I jump away from her with the point of the iron against my face, but she moves past me. Jai remains motionless while Mali reaches around him. She lifts the iron tongs. Fear has me shouting, "I'll break the skin!" Ignoring me, she inspects the instrument before slamming it against his leg. He bends over with a gasp. I jump toward her. "Stop it! I said I'll break skin!"

I push the poker harder, even wince at the pain, but she slams the metal on his thigh again and Jai collapses on the floor. "Payback for a broken arm," she says with a satisfied smile.

Jai's harsh pants fill the room.

Fury overrides all my fear and I raise the poker above her skull.

She spins around. "I can still have Smith shoot him." The poker remains in mid-air. Mali smiles. "This is so much better." She clicks her way back toward the door. "Once we're outside, you have sixty seconds to join us. If not, Smith is going to come back in and shoot him." She plucks the Mercedes keys off the table by the door while adding, "Even if you puncture yourself."

They walk out without a backward glance.

The poker clangs on the wood floor as I rush to Jai's crumpled form. A line of blood soaks the leg of his jeans. I lift his head. His dark eyes are filled with pain. I swallow and force myself to speak. "In the bathroom closet, on the floor, there's a duct to get under it. Go hide. He's going to come back in."

Trying to push himself up, he gasps, "We'll both go."

"No," I shake my head frantically and ignore the plea in his eyes. "They won't rest until they have me," I let go of him, "but they might leave if he can't find you."

"Nivi," Jai yells. His face contorts in anger and pain as he crawls forward.

"Just go!" I say without looking back. If I look into his pleading eyes once more, I don't know if I can do this. I tug the door-it hangs on one hinge-behind me, hoping to give Jai extra time to hide. In place at last, the door shuts out the desperate voice calling my name.

Mali and Smith wait in the snow next to a white Range Rover. Attached to the back is a trailer with a mountain of wood and two snowmobiles. A slow, triumphant smile slides across her face as my foot touches the first step. Oh, how I hate that smile. I trudge through the snow, taking as long as possible to get to them.

Once I'm between them, she says, "Put out your hands." I compliantly lift my hands. If I don't fight them, they may just leave Jai alone. "Wrists up," she orders. I flip them over and Smith winds yellow plastic around them before twisting the bindings tight. He grins when I wince.

Mali keeps an eye on the cabin door while he works. "Now, her ankles," she orders. He winds the plastic around my legs loose enough for me to be able to wobble. As soon as Smith stands, she hands him the gun. "Go kill the boy."

"No!" I say, playing my part. I don't want to give them any indication of a hiding spot. "You said you wouldn't shoot him."

She smiles. "I lied."

Smith jogs to the cabin and I wobble after him.

She yanks my arm. "What are you going to do now?" she asks with a snicker and pushes me into the snow.

My face crunches against ice crystals. I roll over. Flapping around like a fish out of water, I struggle to get up while listening for the sound of gunfire. I'm hoping with every fiber of my being that Smith doesn't find Jai. Arms folded, Mali smirks at me thrashing around in the snow. I'm kneeling when Smith comes out to the porch.

"He's not in here," he yells. "The back door's open and there are tracks. Do you want me to go after him?"

I keep my face smooth. Inside joy bursts through me. Jai got out!

Mali's dark gaze studies the tree line behind the cabin. "No, we've better things to do." She yanks me out of the snow. Her lips curve into a devious smile. "It appears prince charming has deserted you."

Chapter 44*Snow.

As soon as my butt hits the leather seat, cold fingers yank my wrist. Her needle finds a vein. The sting of the point comes then the rush of liquid. I don't fight her, but I refuse to look at her. I'm going to die. So what if her drug makes the experience surreal?

"Your hair is awful," she declares, pulling the needle out.

Unfreakin' believable. On the brink of murdering me, she's nagging me about my appearance. Stupid, crazy, money grubbing bitch. Ignoring her, I stare at the cabin. At least Jai will live.

Smith starts the car.

"Go up the mountain," she orders. "When the road runs out, we'll use the snowmobiles. Then we'll wait for the dark."

Smith doesn't answer. He just shifts into drive, looks straight ahead, and pushes the accelerator all in a robotic motion, which has me questioning just how much control my stepmother has over him. It seems like she has total control.

I wonder why we're going up the mountain and waiting. Why doesn't she just kill me? As the trees grow thicker and the road bumpier, the real life detective stories Rosa likes to watch on TV flash through my mind. Perhaps Mali wants my death to go unsolved. Jane Doe's remains found on the side of a mountain. Who will find my bones come spring? A hiker? A hunter? His dog? Or will they lay hidden in the woods forever? But what's with her obsession of not leaving marks?

She captures my wrist again. I yank back. She holds tight. I turn to her. Heavy wrinkles line her face. So many crisscross her skin, I forget about her cold grasp. How could I not have noticed how old she was before now? She looks ancient. She tugs at the bracelet still stuck to my wrist. With the flick of a long nail, she frees the chain and untangles it from the yellow plastic. She holds up the piece of jewelry in my face. My tied hands swat at the bracelet until I freeze. Her reflection stares at me. Since the bracelet is facing me, the bronze ovals should hold mine. Truth crashes down on me. She used the thing to track me. It wasn't the GPS. It was the damn bracelet. She watched what I was doing through a piece of jewelry. First the mirrors, now the bracelet, what the hell is going on?

"What are you, a witch?" I snap.

Her response is a deep laugh. My hands clench. I lunge at her without thinking. With our noses almost touching, she says, "We could go back and take care of your friend."

Her words have the desired effect. I lean back and take a deep breath. My hands uncurl. I glance at the sun. I have about five hours to live, and with her threats to Jai and the drug running through my veins, not a chance for escape. I let the anger rush out of me because if I don't, I fear she'll keep her threat against Jai.

"These are bones." She fingers the white beads on the bracelet and a smile forms between her wrinkles. "Someday it will have yours on it."

I stare in horror at the chain dangling from her fingertips. Those bones had been on my wrist for over a week. "You're demented." The words come out in a whisper.

She laughs again.

The sound echoes through the vehicle and back through my ears. At the sight of her wrinkled face stretching and melting, I turn to the window. Outside, trees shift and blur and bleed into the snow. I close my eyes.

Strange patterns and colors flicker across my lids. My body feels weightless. My mind calm. I know what's coming. I welcome the absence of reality. It will make facing death much easier. As the world under my lids turns into a dark kaleidoscope, the full dose of the drug lures me into unconsciousness.

I open my eyes and blink at the dark sky spotted with white. I'm flying through the snow. White against the backdrop of night speeds by. Everywhere. Snow on the ground. Snow on the trees. Snow falling on my face. Snow wetting my lashes. I close my eyes, and see snow dotted with blood.

I wake kneeling on an incline. My knees dig in the cold snow. My arms throb and something thin pokes along my spine. Though it's freezing, heat licks my face. I force my lids open. The world is hazy, my senses dull, though I can detect a fire, huge and hot, roaring mere feet from me. Popping and sizzling echoes in my ears. Melting snow pools around the flames. Water trickles past my bent knees as it runs past me. I struggle to move, but other than my head, I'm stuck. Rope crisscrosses my chest and snakes around my arms extended before me. My hands are tied face up as if waiting for drops of water, as if waiting for something to be put in them.

Through the fog in my head, I recall my silly voodoo fears. They seem entirely possible now. Yet the fear that's been my constant shadow of late is absent, only a memory. Tied up like a sacrifice before a fire, I should be scared, but calmness, almost acceptance, flows through me. Logic tells me that should scare me the most, but I remain serene. I lift my chin and pain shoots down my spine. Though a moan escapes me, at least I can physically feel something.

"Shut up," Smith's voice says from somewhere above. Even his presence doesn't ruffle my tranquility. Snow crunches near then my head reels back from a slap. The taste of metal pools in my mouth and I spit blood out as my head wobbles. My jaw pounds with pain.

"I told you not to touch her!" Mali shrieks from somewhere behind the fire.

"The bitch deserves a beating for the shit she's caused," Smith grunts.

While I'm realizing his monotone is somehow gone, he smacks me again. My lip splits. My head spins. I can't move even to spit out the blood. Pain now pounds through my entire head.

"You're going to pay for that!" Mali's hysterical voice is next to me. The zing of a steel blade being released rings in my ear. "Since my power's shifting for the change, I should have done this as soon as we got here."

A haze of white and black tumbles between the burning fire and me, a rush of air, a thump, a gasp, a groan from the fire, followed by a male scream that cracks through my head like lightning. Pops and sizzles mix with screams of agonizing pain. The scream goes on and on. The smell of burning flesh fills the air and I gag. Sour bile rises in my throat. The smell, the screams, the heat, and the cold make my breath come out in pants.

The screams stop.

On the edge of darkness, I can't open my eyes, can't lift my head, but I know Smith is dead.

Chapter 45*Snow, Blood, and Envy.

When I come to again, I hear the scrape of metal from across the fire. I lift my head. My vision has almost cleared. The moon shines through the trees casting long shadows while the fire blazes bright. She stands against the darkness sharpening a long knife. Her face droops with wrinkles. Dirt and grime mat the fur of her coat. Sleek black hair is now a tangled mess. Her eyes are beady black coals. Looking like a witch, she stares at me while her withered hand pushes the knife back and forth across a stone.

I suck in smoke filled air and tremble. The haze of calmness has diminished and I've woken to a nightmare, a place somewhere between reality and fear. I swallow dread and it lodges in my stomach.

From across the flames, the witch smiles at the girl's tremble and satisfaction coils through her body. Soon. Soon. Soon. Her curved finger touches the blade and blood, almost black, wets the edge. Grinning, she sets the knife on the seat of the snowmobile and reaches for a log. The fire must be hot.

Born of fire and ash, fire fuels her power.

Terror bubbles up inside me and I long for the calming intensity of the drug that now just keeps me tranquil enough not to scream and spit and swear at her. As she walks around the huge fire while tossing in logs, I pull at my bindings. The flames cast shadows in her deep wrinkles and light her face to an orange hue. The forest behind her is a shadowy backdrop of tangled branches and deeper shadows that move and breathe with the flicker of the growing fire. Dread builds in my chest as my bindings hold tight. I'm stuck, a frog pinned for her ghoulish dissection.

She lifts a small bowl-the one from eight thousand years ago-from the ground and her dark silhouette moves past the bright light of the fire until she stands before me.

I force myself not to flinch. Though my heartbeat accelerates at her nearness, somehow I defiantly meet her gaze. Her smile is slow. It slithers across her face like a snake and a tooth drops out of her mouth. I stare at the jagged, rotten thing lying in the snow while she cackles above. The feeling I had about her mirror collection intensifies within me a hundred times. Something is very, very wrong with my stepmother.

Her deformed fingers set the bowl in my upturned hands. "Look inside and behold your destiny," she says in a brittle voice.

I want to smack those folds of skin. Really, I want to run to the farthest corner of the earth, but hog-tied to a stake, I say, "Ah, something to spit in."

Her coal eyes narrow, causing more wrinkles to crease her face. "It wouldn't do to desecrate your eternal home."

I don't know what she means. It can't be good. I curl my lip at her, ready to tell her off, but the bowl warms in my hands. The stone nearly scorches my skin. In the polished surface instead of my face, another face is pictured, and then another. Faces change each second. Female features of every shape from every race. Totally terrified now, I try to shake the heavy bowl out of my bound hands. The stone doesn't budge. I try to look away. I can't.