She banished the thought and tried to focus on escape.

The instinct to survive was quiet incredible, she realized.

His bas.e.m.e.nt had been turned into an elegant salon. There were comfortable sofas, and a pool table stood to one side, separated from the sitting area by support pillars. Music played softly from somewhere, and she saw a large screen television in one corner of the room. She wondered if he had a generator to provide power.

He led her to the sofa. She didn't want to sit, but she could tell that he wasn't going to give her a choice.

"Watch the screen."

"No."

"You are afraid."

She refused to answer and looked deliberately away from the screen, so he simply caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to watch as a portrait came into focus.

It was as if she were staring at herself. "You must understand. She was mine, always mine. I watched Katya when she was a child. I watched her grow. I was the one in love with her. Then...she came here." The French Quarter appeared on the screen in a series of old photographs. There were no cars, no taxis. No neon lights.

The roads were dirt. Carriages were traversing them. Men and women in nineteenth century costume were walking past shops, gentlemen tipping their hats to the ladies....

And there she was.

Except that it wasn't her. It was another woman. Katya. And there was Mark His hair was longer; he had sideburns. He was laughing, showing the woman something in a store window. They were walking, her hand, delicately encased in a white gloves, on his arm.

The scene changed. They were in a castle, a fire burning in the hearth. There was a daybed, covered in fur.

And the woman...

Katya.

Katya was on the daybed with a man who looked like Stephan. They were together, naked, making love....

Lauren gazed at the image in horror.

She was stunned when the screen suddenly went blank and a rough, angry voice said forcefully, "Actually, that's not how it happened at all."

She turned to the stairs, her heart leaping. Mark was there, and he wasn't alone. Heidi and Deanna were behind him.

"See!" Stephan cried as he stood, and smiled triumphantly. "He is the evil one. I sent your friends to safety, but he has made them his creatures."

Mark continued down the stairway, followed by the women. They still seemed to be acting like zombies, Lauren thought.

"Tell her the truth, Mark, or don't you dare?" Stephan asked mockingly.

"The truth? Why don't you tell the truth for once? You never intended to free her friends. You sent them off with one of your lackeys as a reward for serving you."

Lauren hadn't realized that Mark was holding something behind his back until he tossed it down before Stephan, and then, even after everything she'd seen, she cried out.

It was the taxi driver's severed head.

Stephan ignored the gory trophy and looked at Mark. "She's mine now. Just as Katya was mine."

"Katya was yours because you used the evil power that fuels your existence to seduce her. She was never with you willingly. And you could never bear the fact that she came back to me."

Stephan turned to Lauren. "I didn't kill Katya."

She was torn, unsure what to believe. She knew for a fact that Mark hadn't told her the truth, or at least not all of it. Then the moment pa.s.sed as she realized what must have happened all those years ago, at the same time wondering why Mark didn't seem to understand that they were in grave peril, that neither Heidi nor Deanna would be any help in a fight. That in fact they would probably try to kill him.

She spoke softly when she finally responded to Stephan. "I know that Mark's father killed Katya. Because he knew she was a vampire. He might have even known that she had, in turn, made Mark a vampire. But you caused her death. You killed her.

Because you made her a vampire. It was the only way you could win her. Maybe at first you did try simply to get to her to care about you...for you. But you failed. So you tainted her, and then you murdered her, made her just like you. Except she wasn't like you, because when she came back to life, she still despised you. And she went back to Mark. And he loved her, was willing to love her...no matter what."

Stephan let out something like a snarl, staring at her, and she had to fight not to tremble. He was close, so close. She could be dead in seconds.

"The real truth is this-I have the power, the greatest power."

"You don't know what real power is, Stephan," Mark charged him.

"The only question now is who to kill first," Stephan said softy.

Then he lunged. Faster than light. Lauren shrieked, certain his fangs would rip into her at any second.

But just when she thought there was no hope, that no one could save her, the room seemed to explode. Darkness burst between them like the beating of a ma.s.sive wing. But it wasn't darkness, it was Mark. He struck out at Stephan, and the force of his blow sent the other man flying across the room. For a second Lauren felt a sense of sheer triumph, but it was quickly gone, because Stephan was up in a flash.

Worse, howling like a pair of banshees, Heidi and Deanna came flying across the room, and while Stephan and Mark were locked in a vicious struggle, Lauren was left to face her two best friends, both of whom seemed intent on killing her. Heidi was so tiny that Lauren was able to shove her away with a swift push. Deanna, however, was tall. And strong. And she had her fingers around Lauren's throat and was squeezing tightly.

Lauren fumbled desperately in her pocket and found the toothpicks. She managed to get her fingers around one and jab Deanna forcefully in the rib cage.

To her amazement, the hands around her throat relaxed.

When Heidi moved, Lauren jabbed her again. A toothpick in each hand, she managed to rise and face the two of them, her eyes searching the room to see where Stephan had dropped her water pistol.

She saw it and managed to grab it-then shot both her friends. Crying out, they ran to a corner of the room, and huddled together, arm in arm, staring at her as if she were a creature from h.e.l.l.

She spun around. Mark and Stephan were still fighting bitterly, the battle so frenzied that they were literally flying around the room.

Stephan clung to the rafters, trying to kick Mark when he sprang for him. There was a burst of power so great that the whole house shook when Mark dodged Stephan's maneuver and slammed into the other man.

Darkness shadow the room in tandem with a blast of hot air as Stephan fought back.

Lauren decided she must be going mad, because she thought she saw wings, thought she saw wolves, golden eyes gleaming, canines dripping, fur flying....

She sensed someone behind her and spun around.

Deanna had found her courage and was getting ready to reach for her, to attempt throttle her once again.

She didn't have to defend herself, because before Deanna touched her, someone else came hurtling into the room.

Jonas."Deanna!" he shouted, and Deanna froze.

Suiddenly Lauren felt hands clutch her from behind and whirl her around.

Stephan.

He opened his mouth, and she saw his fangs. They seemed to gleam, and they were almost on her. Then he was ripped away from her, as something huge and black exploded in the room.

For a split second there was an blinding flash of light, and in its brilliance she saw Mark grasp Stephan and force the other man to his knees, his hands tight on Stephan 's head.

Mark twisted...and here was another explosion.

The explosion was Stephan.

Lauren choked and coughed and staggered back.

As the dust began to clear, she saw Mark, flesh bloodied, body torn, standing there.

Then he crumpled to the ground.

She raced over to him and dropped to her knees. Blood was oozing from wounds on his arms, on his forehead. She used the tail of her shirt and dabbed at the blood. She was barely aware of Deanna speaking nearby.

"Where the h.e.l.l are we?" Deanna asked, confused. And then, "Jonas!"

But Jonas was already hurrying to Lauren's side. He knelt down by her.

"He's going to die!" she cried.

Jona.s.squeezed her hand rea.s.suringly. "No he's not. He's going to be all right. See? He's healing already."

Lauren stood and drew away from Jonas.

"How did you get in here? How did he get in here? There were dozens of...them outside. But you...you're both just like them, aren't you?"

Jonas stood up and looked down at her. "Yes, I'm a vampire," he admitted. "But I'm not like them. What do I have to do to prove myself?"

There was a groan from the floor. Mark.

Lauren fell back to her knees and helped him to sit up, then stared in amazement. The wound on his forehead already seemed smaller, and he was no longer oozing blood.

She stared at him.

He winced, lowering his head. "I should have told you the truth right from the beginning. I just...I just...There was so much you had to accept and understand first...."

She drew back. "We're still in danger. There were at least a dozen vampires out there."

"It's safe," Jonas said. "I don't believe you," Lauren said. She was scared. No, not just scared-terrified. Shaking. And that made her angry.

She was so grateful that he was alive, But she had just watched him twist off a man's head like a bottle cap. No, not a man's head. A vampire's head.

An evil vampire's head.

Jonas let out a groan of impatience, reached for her water pistol and thrust it toward her. "Go ahead. Shoot me."

When she just stared at him, horrified, he turned the pistol toward his chest and pulled the trigger himself.

Deanna screamed.

Nothing happened, except that. Jonas got wet.

He turned the gun on Mark and shot him. In the face. Mark started, then stared at him with a fierce scowl. "Come outside," he told Lauren firmly.

He got to his feet without asking for help and he strode toward the stairs.

Deanna gave Lauren a distrustful glance. Even Heidi shuddered as she walked by.

With little choice, Lauren followed Mark The room above was empty. It was dark, the candles out, but it didn't matter. She could feel that it was empty.

She followed him out into the night.

The moon was no longer shadowed and red. It was a huge, glowing orb in the heavens, casting a gentle glow.

Then she looked around and was amazed by the sight that met her eyes.

There was Big Jim, a huge wooden lance in one hands, the tip dripping blood, and a machete in his other hand.

And there was Stacey, armed with a mega-water pistol, like the Uzi of squirt toys.

Sean was there, and Maggie, and Bobby and the cop who had been watching over Deanna when she had first gone into the hospital.

To her amazement, there was also an older black woman there, carrying a huge cross and a machete, and flanked by a handsome black man and a stunning young black woman. Lauren realized that she had seen the younger woman before, at the hospital. She was Deanna's nurse, the one who had gone mad, although she seemed to be just fine now.

The older woman stepped forward. "It's over, then?" she asked Mark.

He reached out, drawing her to him. "It's over, Ms. Lockwood. Thank you."

"I told you I knew what I was up against," the woman told him, drawing away and shaking a finger at him. "You've just got to have a little more faith in folks, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Mark looked at Sean. "How are you going to explain this one?" he asked.

Lauren took a good look around the yard and gasped.There were dust piles and soot streaks everywhere.

There were also bones, and a fresh headless body. She winced.

"I think it'll poetic justice if we pin it on the taxi driver," Sean said. "Though I'll have to think about how to explain him ending up without a head."

"Really, Sean," Maggie protested. "Sometimes you can be so..."

Sean sighed. "Maggie, his ID is false. The guy's real name was Wayne Girard. He was found guilty of twenty-seven murders, then escaped-I'm sure with our pal Stephan's help. I'll have some fast talking to do, but he can take the blame."

Lauren walked over to Maggie and Sean, and everyone from Montresse House. They all hugged her-hard.