"With your recklessness and your anger over the cat, Rhiannon, I am afraid you'll charge without hesitation into whatever kind of trap the infernal b.a.s.t.a.r.d has waiting." Roland sent her a quelling glare that held more than just anger. "I was only hoping to keep you from an earlier than necessary demise, if possible."

She tilted her head to one side. "With you there, constantly reminding me how foolish I am, how can I help but exercise a modic.u.m of caution? You worry for nothing."

"I worry for you!" The words burst forth on an explosion of anger as Roland jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Rhiannon got out, slamming her door, as well, and stood facing him, formulating a scathing reply.

But his hand suddenly swept a path through her hair, settling in a gentle curl around her nape. "Stay close to me, Rhiannon. And be careful. Please, for G.o.d's sake, be careful."

Again that stupid lump came into her throat, so large this time it nearly choked her. And she heard herself answer like an obedient schoolgirl. "I will, Roland."

She shook herself.

A second later, the four of them started down the narrow, twisting roads of the village, toward the mountain that loomed at its edge. A dark, hulking shape, it rose from the smaller peaks around it like an angry G.o.d among sinners. Its sheer face seemed to be barren of anything, save dark-colored granite, and its peak was swathed in dense mists.

The climb would have been difficult for mortal men. Roland winced as he thought about Jamey, being forced, perhaps brutally, to ascend the ragged-edged slope. He would have been exhausted by the time they reached the top. Cold, perhaps hungry. Frightened. Grieving for Pandora, if he knew of her fate. The poor child had no way of knowing she would recover, or even that she'd been found.

He took a moment to curse himself for not seeking out the child's father long ago, then returned his attention to the matters at hand. Rescuing Jamison. And protecting Rhiannon. He had no qualms about admitting the sudden fear for her that held him in its grip. For it was Rhiannon who seemed to be the sole focus of Lucien's obsession. She was the one he'd attacked with his nasty little blade. She was the one whose blood he seemed determined to have running in his veins. She was the one he could contact psychically, and whom he could hear in turn. The man was no ordinary human. And his interest in Rhiannon, Roland sensed, had far greater meaning than any of them yet knew.

The slope angled sharply away from the level, gra.s.sy ground. An abrupt change from the lush and fragrant area around them. The surrounding hillsides were gra.s.sy, at least at their bases, and dotted with trees and vegetation. Not Mont Noir. A fitting locale, Roland thought, for the grim battle that was to come.

In very little time, they had ascended beyond the spots where malnourished tufts of coa.r.s.e gra.s.s sprouted from between the stone, and clambered their way over sheer, bare rock.

Roland's foot slid once on the surface. He caught himself then reached behind him to grip Rhiannon's hand and help her along. The look she shot him was not one of anger, but one of puzzlement. Why should she seem so confused by his wanting to help her? Eric helped Tamara along in much the same way.

They were four dark shapes, scaling the side of a black mountain in the dead of night. To the world below, they would be invisible. Wind howled over them, buffeting them as if to send them tumbling down. Air grew thinner and crisper with every foot they gained.

Finally, they crested to a level area and in the distance, Roland saw smoke spiraling into the night. He pointed to the pale gray column, and started toward a cl.u.s.ter of boulders and rock outcroppings. The smoke seemed to emanate from somewhere beyond them. Though the ground was level, and much safer here, he kept his hand curled around Rhiannon's. He half expected her to pull hers flee. When she didn't, he immediately wondered why.

Hurrying now, they raced over uneven, rocky terrain, rounded the cl.u.s.ter of stone that blocked their way and stood facing a reddish log cabin. Small windows stood on either side of a wide, plank board door, like eyes above a toothy grin. Frilly-edged curtains, from this distance, were the lacy lashes. So cozy, this little haven on high. So innocuous in appearance. The perfect, comforting setting to disguise purest evil.

Her hand still resting in his, Rhiannon stood beside him, gazing as he did at the quaint little building. He studied the soft yellow glow of the lamplight from beyond the windows, and he felt the shudder that rippled through her.

Instinctively, he squeezed her hand. Just as instinctively, he thought, she squeezed his in return. The exchange took place in less than a second and then they were looking at each other. Eyes searching, a thousand questions in both sets. Not a single answer in either.

Roland swallowed. He released her hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders as they started for the cabin. She didn't pull away. Eric and Tamara walked abreast of them until they stood before the door.

"I'm certain he doesn't have the tranquilizer," Rhiannon said softly as she reached for the door's curving metal grip. She closed her hand around it and pushed it inward.

It swung without a sound. Glancing around apprehensively, Roland stepped in before her. A hearth on the facing wall snapped and sparked invitingly. In an overstuffed chair, the back of Lucien's head was all that was visible.

"Come in, come in," he said without turning or moving in any way. "Rhiannon is quite right. I don't have the tranquilizer. And this is no sort of a trap. It's a meeting. One I hope will be mutually beneficial."

Roland stepped farther inside, still looking about him. His senses were honed for others present, but he sensed no one. Rhiannon came in beside him, but her eyes, he noted, were only for Lucien. They were filled with hatred and anger, and he touched her arm in an effort to calm her.

She stepped forward, gripped the back of the chair and yanked it onto its back. Lucien rolled to the floor, eyes wide. But as she loomed over him, his lips curved upward slightly.

"I'm going to kill you now, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she said slowly. "I'm going to take my time about it. Are you ready?"

He shrugged. "I have nowhere to go."

She reached down for him, but Roland grabbed her arms from behind. "Wait, Rhiannon." He looked down at the man who waited expectantly for him to finish. "Lucien, where is the boy'?"

A solid line of eyebrows rose. "When I tell you that, she'll be free to murder me. I'd be kind of foolish to give away my edge, now, wouldn't I?"

Rhiannon tugged, but Roland held her firm. He was surprised to see Tamara leap forward, grip Lucien by the front of his knit sweater and haul him to his feet, though she had to lift her arms above her head to do so. Seeing such a small figure exert so much brute strength was impressive, and strange. "If you don't tell us where he is, then I will kill you, anyway, so you don't have much choice."

Again, the dark brows rose. "Such tempers on you immortal women." He pulled his sweater from her grip and stepped backward, smoothing the fabric. "I have a proposal to make. The least you can do is hear it before you make a decision."

Eric had vanished. Vaguely, Roland knew he was searching the cabin to ascertain for himself the presence of anyone else, including Jamey. He emerged from a room then. "Jamison isn't here."

"No. He isn't here. If you want to know where he is, you'll listen to what I have to say."

Rhiannon glanced over her shoulder at Roland, the look in her eyes a.s.suring him it was safe to let her go. He released her arms, giving her a slight nod, then focused on Lucien once more. "Say your piece, monsieur. But know that if we dislike what you have to tell us, you'll not live to finish the sentence."

Eric came to stand close to Tamara. "And you'd best begin by telling us about Jamey. Where is he? Is he safe?"

Lucien drew himself up, though he already towered above all of them and fairly bulged with muscle. "The boy is in perfect health and quite likely to remain that way. So long as you cooperate. His location, I'm afraid, is something I cannot reveal to you just yet."

Tamara drew a shaking breath. "Tell us what you want, Lucien. Let's stop playing games and get to it."

"A woman who thinks like me. I like that." Lucien walked brashly past them, bent and righted his easy chair. He circled to the front of it and sat down, waving a hand to the other seats nearby.

Rhiannon took the rocker nearest the fire and pulled it forward, directly in front of Lucien. She sat down, her gaze glued to his unshakably. "We all know what you want, Lucien. The dark gift. Immortality. But I don't believe you realize how foolish it is to ask it."

"Why foolish?" He leaned forward. "Isn't eternal life what every man longs for in the depths of his soul? Hasn't it been that way from the beginning of time?"

"Do you know how the change is accomplished?"

He nodded. "You will drink from me. Then I from you. When our blood mingles, I will be one of you."

"You will never be one of us," Tamara snapped. Rhiannon's eyes seemed to pierce the very s.p.a.ce between them. "What is to stop me from draining you dry once my teeth are embedded in your muscled neck, you fool?"

He smiled, his gaze unwavering. "There is a letter in the hands of my lawyer, in which the boy's location is revealed. The letter is addressed to Curtis Rogers, of DPI. My lawyer has instructions to send a facsimile to Rogers tomorrow night at midnight."

Rhiannon blinked, and Lucien's smile widened.

"On the other hand, fair Rhiannon, if you transform me without mishap, I will reveal the boy's locale to you, giving you ample time to reach him first."

For the first time, Roland saw uncertainty in Rhiannon's eyes. She broke eye contact with Lucien, and sought Roland's gaze, instead.

"Do not trust him, Rhiannon. There would be nothing to stop him draining you dry, either. You'd be weakened by the act. You know that."

"A risk you'll have to take, my dear, if you want the boy safe. On the other hand, you can refuse and see him become a subject for live study by some of the world's most unscrupulous scientists." He leaned toward her still farther. She didn't back away. "I understand you have firsthand knowledge of just how much... discomfort they can impose on a living being."

Tamara caught her breath. Roland closed his eyes, knowing her memories of that horrific lab must be the stuff of Rhiannon's deepest nightmares.

"Here is how generous I can be," Lucien went on. I'll give you time to think it over. Come back at sundown tomorrow. If you agree, we'll make the switch, and you'll have the boy back before the fax goes out. Or, you can kill me, try to find him on your own, fail and regret it for the rest of eternity. The choice is yours."

Rhiannon blinked slowly. "It seems we have little choice."

"One thing, Rhiannon. You come to me alone, tomorrow evening. I don't trust them for a minute. You come alone, or the deal is off."

Roland felt a blade twist in his chest. "Absolutely not," he said in a low voice. "I won't allow it."

Rhiannon acted as if he hadn't spoken. "I hope there will be time, Lucien. The gift of endless night isn't given as simply as you seem to think. There is a ritual involved."

Roland frowned, wondering what on earth she was up to.

"I care nothing for your rituals. I only want the blood." She shrugged.

"Well, if you don't want the full extent of the strength, then we can dispense with the meditation. I supposed..."

Lucien frowned, licking his lips. "How long does this... ritual take?"

"Several hours."

He tilted his head.

"You won't need more than thirty minutes to get to the boy before Rogers does."

Rhiannon's brows arched. Roland thought he might be the only one who saw the triumph in her eyes. "Then there is sufficient time."

"Rhiannon, you can't do this," Tamara cried.

"I must, fledgling," Rhiannon said softly. "Think of Jamey." She turned, and fixed Tamara with an intense stare. "Think of Jamey."

Tamara blinked, and averted her eyes. "I--I will."

Rhiannon tossed her hair over her shoulder as she got to her feet with fluid grace. "Until tomorrow evening, then. Of course, you know you must fast from now until then. No food, no drink. Otherwise, you won't cross the threshold. You will die upon it."

Roland frowned again. It was absolute nonsense. Not that he intended to allow her to go through with it.

"And you mustn't sleep tonight, or tomorrow, either," she went on, crossing to the door. "If the conditions are not just right, you will die. Do you understand?"

Why was she spouting such drivel?

"You seem to take great care with the life of a man you despise, Rhiannon." Lucien's voice was laced with the shadows of suspicion.

"I would kill you as soon as speak to you, Lucien. It is the boy's life I'm taking care with. If you die before you tell me his whereabouts, he'll fall into the hands of devils. That, I cannot allow."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Well before dawn, they'd taken refuge in a dilapidated house several miles outside the village. Rhiannon boldly built a fire in the ancient-looking pot-bellied stove, using bits of the rotted shutters for fuel.

"You take many chances, for a being so sensitive to flame, Rhiannon. The chimney is likely in as sad condition as the house."

Roland again, admonishing her as always. "Stop worrying. There will be no direct contact between my flesh and the flames. And I'll see it's well doused before we rest."

Eric and Tamara had gone down into the bas.e.m.e.nt to seek a resting place, and, she suspected, to spend some time alone. She suppressed her jealousy of them and tried to focus on more practical matters. Frankly, she wished she'd brought a huge, fluffy comforter along to wrap herself in. Sleeping in a mound of mildewed hay had been bad enough; this pile of refuse would be worse yet.

"Rhiannon, it's time."

She fed another bit of wood to the burgeoning fire, careful to keep her hand from the flames, closed the iron door and brushed the black soot from her fingers. "Time?"

"To tell me what you have planned for Lucien."

"So you can tell me how foolish and risky it is?" She shook her head quickly, and crossed the room to gingerly examine an ancient-looking sofa. "Thank you, no. You, Eric and Tamara can spend your time looking for Jamey. I'll keep Lucien busy... alive, but busy, until you find the boy."

"Thus the talk of a lengthy ritual?"

She nodded. "He wants power. He craves it the way a drunkard craves liquor. It's a weakness to want something that badly. I'll use that weakness against him. If he believes my ritual will give him more strength, he'll take part in it."

She thumped the ratty cushions repeatedly, watching for some creature to skitter forth. When none did, she turned and sat down.

Roland came and sat beside her. "And what of your admonition that he neither eat nor rest?"

His shoulder touched hers, he sat so close. His thigh pressed to hers, but he didn't even try to rectify matters. She wasn't sure whether she should do it herself. She knew she didn't want to.

"Deprivation of food and sleep weakens the mind. It's used by all the most successful cult leaders, you know. I only wish I could make him fast longer before I face him."

She didn't move away. If Roland didn't mind the closeness, why should she deny herself the supreme pleasure of it?

"Face him in what way, Rhiannon? You make it sound like a battle."

Sighing, she leaned back against the gray-colored stuffing that poked out from the ragged upholstery, her arms crossing over her chest. "It will be a battle, of sorts. A battle of minds." She closed her eyes and tried to see her hastily concocted plan clearly. She wanted it to seem like a sound course of action when she explained it to Roland, not like the ravings of a careless, reckless child.

"While Lucien meditates, Roland, I will be working on his mind. I will entrance him, as I've done to countless humans when the need has arisen. I will bring him completely under my control."

Roland half turned, so he faced her. She avoided his eyes, but he would have none of it. He caught her chin in two fingers and turned her face to his. "You are well aware this man is no ordinary human. His psychic abilities are strong. He is able to conceal his mind from yours." His eyes sparked with emotion, but she didn't think it was anger. His jawline tightened. His full lips thinned.

"He will be weakened and tired. I will be strong and ready for the fight. The incense and candles that distract him will help me to focus."

His hand dropped from her chin, to settle on her shoulder. "If this works, and you are able to get him under your power, what then?"

She resisted the impulse to tilt her head sideways, and brush her cheek over his hand on her shoulder. Barely resisted it. "I'll scan his mind and learn where the boy is. I'll relay the information to you and the others, and you will rescue him."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is."