Tara nodded. "Yes, for the most part."

"I go out every night, and I feed. I come home, and you talk to me like nothing weird is going on, like I went out for a hot dog."

"I don't really see how I can do much else. You have to eat, and Julian told me the plasma drinks make you sick."

For several minutes, Daniel remained silent, and she could see he was trying to work up the courage to say what he needed to say.

"Do you know-" He stopped, closed his eyes, swallowed so hard she could hear it. "Do you know if I kill people when I go out?"

"No. I don't know." She paused, wondering if she should ask the obvious question. "Don't you know?"

"No. That's the problem. I go out and feed, and I come home, and I have no memory of where I've been or where I've gone. It's always been that way. I don't know what I eat or who I hurt. Or kill."

"Oh. I see." She fought the urge to reach for him again.

"I've been alive for five hundred years." His voice had gone thin and choked again. "How many people have I murdered in all that time?"

Count on the little vampire kid to ask the tough questions. Absently, Tara stroked his hair again. He was just a little boy. Even his depiction of himself as a bloodthirsty killer couldn't change her perception of him as innocent, unblemished in many ways by his nature.

"If I had to guess," she ventured, "I'd have to say not very many."

He brightened a little. "Really? Why?"

"Because in all the time I've known you, you've gone out every night and come back apparently having had a satisfactory meal. But I haven't heard anything on the news, ever, about any mysterious deaths in the vicinity."

His eyes widened. "Oh, my gosh. You're right. I read the paper most mornings, and I haven't seen anything there, either."

"Right. You're a small person, Daniel. Even the big vampires can feed their hunger without killing if they want to, or learn how to." She knew that ability varied among vampires, depending on who had Made them, but she also knew without a doubt that it was possible. "My guess is you take what you need and go on, without ever actually killing anyone at all."

Relief swept over Daniel's face for a few seconds, then his expression hardened again. "I need to know. I need to be sure. Do you think that doctor can help me find out?"

Tara frowned. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea." At his sudden, crestfallen look, she added, "But I'll talk to Julian about it."

"Good. Because I need to know what I've been before I can decide what I want to be. I need to know exactly what's been going on with me for the past five hundred years."

"Okay. I'll talk to Julian. I need to see him, anyway, today. Now, you get to bed. The sun's going to be up soon."

He yawned. "Yeah, I can feel it." Standing, he headed for his small, sun-tight bedroom. "Wish I'd gotten home earlier. I missed that Dragonball Z marathon."

"Next time let me know, and I'll tape it for you." He gave her a sweet, boyish smile. "Thanks."

As usual, Julian was awake and in his office. He wasn't working, though. Instead, the complex and colorful graphics of a fantasy wargame filled his computer screen. She wondered why he would be wasting time with such a thing, then realized the map on his screen echoed the layout of the Underground. He was using the game's map generator to work out battle strategies.

"Tara," he said as she entered. "How are you?"

"Things have taken an interesting turn." She sank onto the comfortable couch. "A couple of interesting turns, actually."

She told him about her conversation with Daniel, then, more hesitantly, about the dreams. "I don't really know what to think, much less what to do. I've never run into anything like this."

Julian smiled. "Not many have."

"That's not very reassuring." Her fingers were trembling; she folded them together to keep them still. "I almost called him 'Liam' last night. It's all so-" She broke off as Julian's eyebrows shot upward.

"What's wrong?"

He composed himself quickly. A little too quickly. "Nothing."

"Do you-or did you-know somebody named Liam?"

He shrugged, his expression once again inscrutable. "It's a pretty common name. Particularly in Ireland."

Tara wasn't about to settle for such a feeble answer. She started to ask for a definite yes or no, but at that moment, Lorelei wandered in, tousled and sleepy-eyed.

She kissed Julian warmly and settled onto his lap. "Anything like what?"

"It sounds as if Tara and I may have encountered each other in a former life," Julian said. "Well, a former life for her, anyway. Just my same old, really long one."

Lorelei made a face. "Oh. I thought I was the only one who could claim that distinction."

Tara perked up. "Really? You knew Julian sometime way back when?"

"He thinks so. I'm not so sure. I mean, I don't remember shit about it." She stood. "I'm going up for coffee. Anyone want anything?"

"Bring me down some milk, if you could," said Julian.

"I could use some coffee. Any pastries?"

"You betcha. So, coffee and donuts for the girls-and gross, disgusting, unpasteurized milk for the ex-bloodsucker. See you in a bit."

Julian followed her to the door and watched her go, a deep-seated warmth in his eyes. Tara cleared her throat, then smiled at his obvious reluctance in closing the door and turning back to look at her.

"So," he said, settling beside her, on the couch, "do you think Gray DeAngelo may have some memory of the same past life you remember?"

"Well, he is a past-life regression therapist," she replied. "I'd say it's a safe bet he's done it himself. And he's as likely to have remembered Liam and Felicity as any other past life he might have had."

Julian sighed. "Then you might need to level with him."

"You mean tell him the truth?"

He nodded, his lips quirking up at the corners in an almost-smile.

"Sometimes it just has to be done."

"But the danger to Daniel . . ."

Julian sobered. "Yes, I know. The way I see it, this will go one of two ways. Either DeAngelo's knowing the truth about Daniel-and about the two of you, and about me-will ease the way for Daniel and actually be a great help in his therapy. Or the doctor will start to identify with the less fortunate aspects of his former personality and decide he has to slay vampires again."

"That doesn't sound like much fun."

"No, it wouldn't be. But if it comes down to it, I can deal with him."

"You mean kill him?"

"Only if it comes to that."

Tara took a long breath. "I really, really don't like this."

"I know." He paused, studying her face. "You and Gray-you were lovers in that previous life, weren't you?"

She felt her face redden. "It kind of looks that way, yes."

She wished he would look away. His scrutiny seemed to bore into her soul, and it only intensified as he spoke.

"You need to be prepared, Tara. If you knew me in a previous life, and you also knew DeAngelo, then it's possible-likely, even-that DeAngelo knew me, too. And if he's having these dreams, too . . ." He trailed off, reached to lay a hand on her shoulder. "If he figures out that vampires are real and reverts to Liam's policy of indiscriminate killing Tara, I won't let him hurt Daniel or anyone in the Underground.

You need to be prepared for that."

She understood only too well. And she hated it. But she nodded, anyway, knowing he was waiting for it.

"Don't look so worried," Julian said. "From what you've told me, the doctor sounds like a reasonable person. If he starts channeling Liam, I'm sure we can talk him down." He squeezed her shoulder.

"We're the good guys, after all. He'll understand that."

She knew he was trying to reassure her, but it wasn't working.

Instead, she felt as if there were something-something important- that he wasn't telling her. Then again, between the weird past-life dreams and lack of sleep, maybe she was getting paranoid. Either way, she had to trust Julian.

And maybe it would all work out.

She laid her hand on top of his on her shoulder. "Okay. We'll just have to see what happens."

Frowning, Gray hung up the phone. Normally, he would have been excited about the news he'd just received, but for some reason, something didn't seem right.

He looked down at the notes he'd written on the pad next to the phone. Possibly Australian aboriginal dialect previously unrecorded.

His linguist friend, Mark, whom he contacted whenever a mysterious language popped up in a past-life session, had been nearly bouncing off the walls with ecstasy. The language Daniel had spoken in his last session appeared to be a more primitive version of a language spoken by modern aborigines. Mark hadn't been sure how old it might be, but his colleagues were analyzing it.

Gray recalled a similar occurrence, a few years ago. He'd had a patient who, under hypnosis, had spoken for hours on end in a language Mark had finally identified as Etruscan. Another patient's tongue of choice had never been positively identified. Mark had theorized it to be an ancient precursor to Greek, but he could neither confirm that nor translate the language fragments.

So why did Daniel's speaking a foreign language seem so strange?

Maybe because the other patients hadn't looked Etruscan or ancient Greek. Whereas Daniel actually looked as if he could be of Australian aboriginal heritage.

Gray dropped his face to his hands, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. He needed to get a grip. The diaries he'd read, the strange reaction he was having to Tara . . . then being reminded that he'd seen vampires in his personal journey through past-life regression . . . he was starting to question everything he believed in. No, he wasn't going to go there. He didn't think he could deal with it right now.

Instead, he called Tara. She sounded sleepy, but perked up when he explained what he'd discovered.

"So you think this really might be a past life experience?" she asked.

"I think there's a good chance." He paused. "Listen, I know you didn't bring Daniel to me looking to explore his past lives. And it sounds as if his current one has been traumatic enough. But sometimes past- life regression is helpful in solving current problems. Can we meet, maybe today for lunch, if you're free, and discuss this?"

"Another consultation?" She sounded wary.

"Informal." He smiled. "I won't charge you."

"All right." He could hear her answering smile in her voice. "It's a date. I'll meet you at your office."

She hung up before he could protest her use of the word "date."

Bemused, he stared at the phone for a few seconds before he carefully replaced the receiver.

But maybe it was a date, Gray thought later. If the way his heart began to accelerate when he saw Tara walk into the reception area of his office was any indication, the term wasn't far off the mark. He really had to watch himself. Getting involved with her could cause him all manner of problems.

Still, as they walked to the diner on the corner, he couldn't resist carefully bumping shoulders with her. She didn't seem to mind. If she even noticed. She did seem rather absorbed in her own thoughts.

He found out why when they were seated in the diner, eating sandwiches.

"I've given a great deal of thought to your suggestion about Daniel.

You know-the past-life regression thing," she said. She'd eaten only a few bites of her sandwich and was merely playing with her French fries. "He and I had a discussion yesterday after his session, and he has some specific goals he wants to address."

Gray frowned in sudden realization. "Where is Daniel, anyway?

He doesn't go to regular school, does he?"

Tara's face froze, and she stopped chewing. Then, carefully, she said, "He's at home with a tutor. My ex-husband pays for private schooling."

Her words were even, as if she were reciting something. Then she laughed a little. "I can only stand so much second-hand algebra."

"He's learning algebra already? Bright kid." He paused, giving her a chance to respond, but she didn't. "So what are these specific goals?"

"He's aware of certain blank areas in his memory. He wants to fill those in. One of those was remembering his mother, and now he'd like to address other issues."

"So what are you proposing?"

"I propose that we do exactly what Daniel wants to do, and no more. If that leads us into past life stuff again, so be it. If not, then I think it's best to leave it alone." She dragged an abnormally long French fry through the puddle of ketchup on her plate. "I don't want to cause him too much stress. Not right now. The past life memories won't go away. He can dredge them up any time he chooses. Right now I think we need to focus on the immediate issues."

"All right, fair enough." He watched her for a few seconds, as she again attended to her food. Her eating pattern struck him as ner- vous-she was pulling pieces out of her sandwich instead of eating the whole thing, and she'd constructed some sort of complicated filing system with her fries. They seemed to be sorted by length, although some of the piles had fallen into each other.

Finally he said, "Speaking of immediate issues . . ."

"Yes?" she prompted.

"The deja vu thing we were talking about. I went through some of my old therapy journals, just out of curiosity."

"And?"