Lauren discovered that she was famished, and the waffles were as delicious as Stacey had promised. "Are we safe by day?"

"Safer," Stacey said. "Vampires-good and evil-are at their greatest strength at night. And I sincerely doubt Stephan will attack by day. He's not some idiotic young vampire, out to feed his way through the city. Not that many would be that stupid-this being the home of the Alliance."

"What?" Lauren said. "The Alliance."

Lauren frowned, shaking her head. "So Jonas was telling the truth."

"That there is an alliance of...shall we say...other worldly beings who make their home here? Yes. Unfortunately, Stephan knew right when to hit this area. Almost everyone's away. I just hope they'll return in time."

"You hope?"

"Don't be afraid. Mark clearly knows his enemy. And Sean and Maggie-well, no one knows more than they do. It's really too bad that Jessica's partner, isn't here. Guardians are...are ancient and because of that, they're powerful. Very few...people have survived since the middle ages. Look, it's all right. Sean's officers are more than capable of handling vampires. I mean, he doesn't give cla.s.ses on fighting vampires, 101, or anything like that. There are just some guys on his squad who naturally...know. It's not so difficult, really. If you have believe in a higher power, you believe in good. If you believe in good, you have to believe in evil.

I'm sorry. I'm getting very complicated here, and you probably just want to get some sleep. Would you like more waffles?"

"What?" Lauren realized she'd been drowsing and had barely heard whatever Stacey was saying.

"Waffles. Would you like more waffles? You've cleaned your plate."

"Oh, no, thank you. They were delicious. I guess...I guess I'll just peek in on Heidi and then get some sleep myself, if that's okay?"

"Sure."

They went upstairs, where Stacey opened one of the bedroom doors. Heidi was soundly sleeping, cradling a stuffed Teddy bear.

"Bobby won it at the fair," Stacey explained.

"Nice. Thank you," Lauren told her.

"No prob. Call me if you need me," Stacey said, heading back downstairs.

First things first. In her own room, Lauren took a long, hot shower after realizing just how...grimy she was. The thought that the specks of soot on to her flesh and in her hair were the remnants of evil beings was not a pleasant one. She scrubbed herself vigorously, then repeated the process.

At last, though, sated from the waffles, clean and warm, she practically crashed down on her bed, images spinning through her mind. Vampires. Shadows. Darkness. Bats. Amorphous shapes that solidified in the night. Terrible things. Evil creatures....

And Mark.

Mark last night.

She curled into the mattress. Mark was all right. Sean Canady had a.s.sured her that he was fine. Safe.

At last she slept.

And later...he came to her.

She thought she was dreaming at first. That she heard his voice because she longed to hear it. That he was touching her, his fingers running through her hair, because she wanted to be touched.

"Lauren." She realized that he was really there, at her side. Blue eyes deep as midnight, yet brilliant as the day. The contours of his face as rugged and strong as ever, but the look in his eyes so tender.

Then he was kissing her.

Lips moving on hers, coaxing, powerful. His hands sliding over her, cupping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, traveling down to her hips.

She wasn't dreaming. He was with her.

Making love to her.

And, oh, G.o.d, it was good.

She curled into his arms, returned his kisses with searing wet ardor, broke away, kissed and teased and laved his flesh. Somehow the nightgown she had donned after her shower was gone. Somehow his naked flesh was erotically close to her own. She felt the hardness of his arousal against her, the vitality of him, the pressure of his muscles and movement. The drapes were drawn, only a touch of the sun entering, and it seemed he was bathed in gold. It was as if real fire emanated from her when he touched her, that the elements themselves combined to arouse and seduce her.

She had never known such a lover. He had clearly decided to go slow. She had met his first caress so easily, only to discover she was firmly pressed back again and again, that he wanted to stroke each niche and curve of her, the brush of his fingers followed by the pressure and caress of his lips and tongue. He traced a slow pattern on her flesh, making her ache and writhe as he moved from her throat to her collarbone, b.r.e.a.s.t.s, midriff, belly, thighs...until he delved intimately between them, driving her to a point of madness, a point of searing climax...and then took her there again.

His lips were forceful, his entire body thrusting in a way that seemed to penetrate her every pore, even her very mind. She thought she might well die as she arched against him, seeking more and more and more of him, or at the very least that she would go mad.

But then the sweet delirium of climax burst upon her again, and his flesh against her flesh, their hearts thundering, pulses racing, breathing coming in gasps of wind....

Then dying down.

She didn't lie quietly at his side, waiting for the wonder to subside. Instead she sat up, staring at him, frowning, worried. "You're all right?" she asked anxiously.

"I thought I was much more than that, actually," he teased.

She almost hit him.

"I'm serious. You escaped him, but you were hurt. How in G.o.d's name...?"

"I'm all right," he said quietly. "Really."

She hopped up, comfortable with him, heedless of her nudity, anxious to see him clearly and a.s.sure herself that he really was completely well.

She turned on the light and went back to his side, then searched him head to toe, anxiously, with her eyes, with her touch.

"You...you're not even bruised."

"I'm tough," he told her. "Worn, rugged and tough," he added with a soft laugh.

"I was so worried when you didn't come back."

He reached up, his eyes on hers as he touched her cheek. "You were worried? So was I. Trusting Jonas wasn't easy." "He took me straight to the Square."

He nodded, looking down for a moment. "Sean had told me he was pretty sure the guy was decent."

"Deanna...liked him," she murmured.

"Yeah, well, I guess he was there at the right time last night," he said. "Still...I don't like it. The thing is, though, I have to find Stephan's hideout. His lair."

Lauren frowned. "You're certain that he has...a lair?" she asked slowly.

"Of course."

"Well, excuse me if I'm asking silly questions, but...accepting that vampires exist is still new to me. So...does he have a coffin somewhere? Native earth and all that?"

He was looking at the ceiling, his expression serious, and he gave no hint that she was asking something bizarre. "It's not as complicated as you think. He has native earth somewhere. A place where he can go to rest...to heal, if he's wounded. But he has to have a place large enough for his followers, togo." He turned and looked at her, suddenly almost angry. "Where the h.e.l.l did you go last night? Why did you leave the hospital? You know it's not safe for you to be out alone."

She was startled by the question. And though she didn't know why, she didn't want to tell him the whole truth.

"I...I thought it might be important to find the fortune-teller."

He frowned. "The woman in your sketch?"

She nodded.

"Did you find her?"

"No." Why had she lied? She wasn't sure. Then she knew. Susan had given her that paper, the copy of whatever she had found at the library, and Lauren realized that she wanted to read it herself. To see if it was something that made some kind of sense. Her meeting with the woman had been unnerving.

She felt very guilty about the lie, however, so, without prompting, she began to explain. "I don't think I ever told you. I...I saw Stephan in her crystal ball. The night we arrived, Heidi and Deanna wanted to have our fortunes told. Susan had a little tent and a crystal ball. And when I looked into it, Stephan appeared."

His expression grave, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me this before?" He was still angry, she realized, but trying to keep his temper leashed.

"I'm sorry-but you didn't exactly seem sane at first."

"But since then..." He closed his eyes, shook his head. She could almost hear the grating of his teeth.

He sat up, then rose, reaching for his pants. "So that's when and how he found you," he said quietly. "I'll see if I can find the woman. See what else she may be able to tell us. And you-you have to be extremely careful. No-I mean no-wandering off on your own. Please, Lauren, I'm begging you."

She nodded, watching him. "He's killed again, you know. They found a third body in the river."

He swore, pulling up his jeans. "He has to be found. And stopped," he said grimly. "What do I do...what can I do, about Deanna? And Heidi," she added.

"Stacey will know how to manage Heidi. I imagine she's already acting a great deal more like herself already."

"So being seduced, bitten...doesn't automatically make you become...a vampire?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You become a vampire when the kill is complete," he said. "Unless you're staked. Or beheaded."

"How can there be so many vampires and only three murders? I mean...don't they need to feed?"

He slipped into his shirt. "They can feed on many things. Rats, small animals...and a good glut can last a very long time. I'm sure, if we checked the surrounding area, we'd find that a few blood banks had been ransacked." He hesitated. "Stephan is a monster.

Cruel, power-hungry, and he thrives on the pain and torment he causes others. But in the end...he wants to live. He wants me to die, because I'm an enemy who has been on his trail for a long, long time. But he wants you first-and he wants me alive to see it.

Maybe he believes he can seduce you, that you'll live a long and happy-and bloodthirsty-unlife together. Maybe he only wants you because he knows he can cut me to the quick again. Maybe it's both. I can tell you this, though. He's using Deanna and Heidi to torment you, to get to you. And I have to stop him."

He went still when he finished speaking.

She frowned. "What is it?"

He groaned. Suddenly, instead of b.u.t.toning his shirt he was pulling it off again. The jeans fell to the floor.

And then he was back beside her, eyes meeting hers, fingers caressing her hair.

"I need to go," he murmured.

She nodded.

"But not yet. Not just yet."

Nor could she let him go. They were both fevered, hasty, making love with a fierce and desperate pa.s.sion.

She was falling in love, she thought. With his face.

With his hands.

His touch.

His kiss.

Not just in love with being in love, with making love. No, with a man.

She barely knew him.

She had to believe that she knew enough.

She ceased to think. She soared; she reveled in sensation. Together, they were cataclysmic, explosive. She could not get close enough to him.

Her heart pounded; her breathing rasped; her flesh was slick and wet; and the moment of culmination was shattering and sweet. In the end, he held her close for a moment and sighed deeply. Then he was up and gone.

And she was left alone with her thoughts, to if what she felt could be real or was only a dream.

A dream...when all else was a nightmare.

12.

M ark headed to Jackson Square. He had noticed Susan the woman Lauren had sketched, when he had first come back to the city and had wandered through the Square, seeing what had changed, what had remained the same.

It always amazed him. Take away a few signs, add a few cosmetic details, and the Square was just as it always had been.

There were a few musicians out, a few artists, and one tarot card reader. There was no sign of Susan.