Cursed - Satine Tierney_Book 1 - Kristine Decoyly

Cursed: Satine Tierney: Book 1 by Kristine Decoyly SMASHWORDS EDITION ***** PUBLISHED BY: Kristine Decoyly on Smashwords Cursed: Satine Tierney: Book 1 Copyright © 2011 by Kristine Decoyly Smashwords Edition License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work. *****

Cursed: Satine Tierney: Book 1 Chapter 1 Satine Tierney despised being called “Satin”. So much so, she’d actually considered having the “-ine” changed to “-een” just to save herself the trouble of constantly correcting people. Her pride and common sense, however didn’t allow it. After all, it wasn’t her fault people couldn’t read. Of course those who knew who she really was wouldn’t dare mispronounce her name. Most would never even dare address her by anything less formal than “Miss Tierney”. It was precisely this reason that Satine had, on her 18th birthday, pleaded with her father to let her attend a normal college, miles away from her infamous heritage. He’d been more than a little reluctant to agree, but with a little (alright a lot) help from her mother, Satine had finally convinced her father to let go. For four glorious years she’d been a nobody. At school there was no ‘Miss Tierney, heir to Tierney Tech’, but simply Satine--student, hard worker, and occasional ivory tickler. At school she’d strived to get as far away from business as possible, studying everything from painting and

archeology, to psychology and chemistry. She was a naturally quick learner, excelling in almost everything she tried. By the second semester of her sophomore year, she’d already settled on a double-major of history and classical mythology. Business it was not. After graduating, and unwilling to return to “Miss Tierney’s” life just yet, Satine went to grad school, and now with her own job and only a few weeks before her 25th birthday, was standing in the mailroom of her apartment complex facing a polite smile on the face of the little old lady handing over the thick letter that had accidentally been placed in her box instead of “Satin’s.” Oh well, you couldn’t win ‘em all. “Thank you,” Satine said, taking the letter and knowing from the familiar touch of expensive parchment who it was from. “Of course dear, of course!” The nice woman pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her thin, bird-like nose. “They always seem to be in too much of a hurry to check the names before shoving mail into the boxes anyway.” Satine smiled again, thanking her neighbor and complimenting her rather intriguing necklace. “Why thank you!” The little old lady beamed and held out the small silver charm for Satine to touch. “It was given to me by my husband 63 years ago.” “It’s…” she searched for the right word for the shimmering pendant and finally decided on, “Unique.” The woman’s intelligent gray eyes twinkled with a mischievous light as she leaned forward. Sensing some great secret was about to be imparted upon her, Satine leaned forward. “I--“ “Woof! Woof!” Both women jumped as the bark broke the conversation and Satine’s neighbor suddenly seemed to remember where she was. “Oh my, it seems Mr. Gatsby is at it again.” “You’re husband?” “Oh no,” the woman whose name Satine still did not know, said with a laugh. “My cat.” “Cat?” “He loves tormenting the neighbor’s dog.” Another bell-like laugh tinkled around the small mailroom. “Struts about the balcony whenever he sees poor Talula coming back from her walk.” “Oh dear.” Satine bent to catch a letter that had slipped from the cat owner’s hand. “Yes, yes, I should be going,” she said distractedly, not even noticing as Satine tucked the letter back into her pile. “Don’t want Talula to pull poor Jamie into the pool again like last time.” Satine vaguely remembered seeing a black lab and a fully clothed, thoroughly soaked, young woman walking across the courtyard last week and smiled, assuring Mr. Gatsby’s owner that she did not take offense at her hasty retreat. “Thank you dear!” With a wave of her hand, the energetic little lady finished, “It was so nice meeting you!” “You too.” With that, she was gone and Satine was left standing in the mailroom staring at the thick envelope in her hand. She fingered the parchment, sighing and wondering how long she’d be able to pretend she hadn’t seen it.

Out of habit, she turned it over to see that it was addressed to Miss Satine Tierney of 126 Westbrooke Lane, Apartment 204. The words were hand written in a calligraphic script she immediately recognized as her father’s. Despite the fact that it was the 21st century and an e-mail would have been a million times faster, Satine’s father--despite his love of technology--still preferred a good old fashioned handwritten letter when summoning orders. Satine closed and locked her mailbox. Okay, so maybe “summoning orders” was a little too harsh, but still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread as she walked back through the courtyard and past the pool to her apartment. A hand-written letter that thick couldn’t be a mere, ‘Hi honey, we miss you, how are things?’ letter. Whatever it was, it was serious, and would no doubt result in her having to fly halfway across the country for the full story. She was shuffling her mail from one hand to the other and lifting her key to the lock when the door suddenly flew open. She jumped, scrambling to stop coupons and an Entertainment Weekly from falling to the floor, as an excited voice asked, “Where have you been? We’re going to be late!” “Kat?” Satine gave her best friend a bewildered look as she was dragged through the door. “What are you doing here?” “What am I doing here? What do you mean? If I wasn’t here you would have missed the flight!” It was only then that Satine noticed the bags at her feet. Completely confused, she managed to brush an unruly strand of black hair out of her face and asked, “What flight? Kat seriously, what are you talking about?” Katelyn (Kat) Rossford, the girl she’d been college roommates with through both undergrad and grad school, was suddenly looking at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Don’t tell me you forgot to get your mail all week again,” Kat said, her blue eyes darkening as she raised an eyebrow. When Satine didn’t answer immediately, Kat dragged out her name accusingly, “Satine…?” “Alright, alright,” she admitted. “I haven’t gotten my mail in two weeks.” Kat continued to stare at her, arms crossed, and Satine folded. “Okay, three.” “Three weeks!” Kat grabbed her arm and started pushing her towards the bedroom. Without asking, she immediately began pulling out Satine’s luggage, opening drawers and tossing clothes in. “First you don’t even tell me you’re engaged, and now you forget--“ “I am not engaged,” Satine interrupted, grabbing a handful of clothes and stuffing them back into the drawer as Kat moved on to the closet. “What do you mean you’re not engaged?” Kat asked as she flung open the closet door and began furiously packing Satine’s shoes. She paused to study a particularly cute pair, looked like she might ask where they’d come from, then shook her head and shoved them into the bag. Satine let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed the red pumps back. “I mean--Would you hold still a second?“ “You’re going to want those.” “No, I’m not.” “Yes, you are. Now go grab your toothbrush, we really are going to be late.” “Kat--”

Her friend held up two pairs of flip-flops, one black, one red. “Red or black?” she asked, and then without waiting for an answered, said, “Both,” and added them to the growing number of shoes. “Kat!” Satine stood up, blocking Kat’s way to the suitcases open on the bed. “For the last time, I am not engaged!” Kat stared at her a moment then, without a word, walked back into the living room, picked up the thick calligraphy addressed envelope, and shoved it into Satine’s hands. “Then what’s this?” she asked, hands on hips, clearly expecting Satine to explain. She thought about trying to argue that she had no idea what it was, which was mostly true, but Satine knew it was pointless. Sighing, she opened the letter and scanned its contents. “This,” she said, trying not to sound as angry as she felt, “Is my father forgetting what century it is.” Forgoing her plan to remain calm before it even began, Satine shoved the letter back into the envelope and pushed it at Kat without so much as a look back. “Ooooh no,” Kat, being Kat, said without missing a beat. She followed Satine back to her room, this time blocking Satine’s way to the suitcases. Satine tried to head back to the living room, but Kat blocked her again. “You can’t be serious.” “Oh I’m serious all right,” Satine said, ignoring the letter Kat was now opening to read. “He actually thinks that he can just summon me back--“ “Do you even know this guy?” Kat interrupted, sitting on the edge of the bed and spreading the crumpled letter out over her knees. “No,” Satine answered dryly. “You’ve never even met him?” “Not once.” “Well then…” Uh-oh. Kat was giving her the ‘this could be fun’ look, and she knew what was coming. “Kat, if you say anything about destiny or prince charming, I swear I’m not giving you any of Mrs. Barnes’s cheesecake for a month." Kat gasped in horror. “You wouldn’t!” “Oh I would.” In fact, she’d very much enjoy having an entire cheesecake to herself each week. Mrs. Barnes, a woman whose children Satine was giving piano lessons to every week, owned and operated the town’s most well-known bakery in town. Her cheesecake was to die for, and Satine had been more than happy to be paid in desserts when Mrs. Barnes had asked about lessons for her two daughters. “Come on,” Kat said, trying a new tactic. “Aren’t you the least bit curious to know what this--“ she glanced at the name in the letter, “--Quinnlan Laroche is like?” “He could have three heads and flippers for hands for all I care,” Satine said, folding and refolding a shirt with more force than necessary. “I’m not going and I’m certainly not marrying him.” A car horn sounded suddenly and Kat jumped. “Well,” she said, grabbing the shirt out of Satine’s hands and shoving it back in the suitcase, “you may not be marrying him, but you are going.” Kat, who was unfortunately taller than Satine, slammed the suitcase shut and held her off as she zipped it and pulled it off the bed. She was heading out the door before Satine could stop her.

“Kat!” she tried, but it was no use. Her clothes were leaving with or without her. “Katelyn Rossford, you get back here!” Her friend appeared at the door, a bright grin on her face. “Don’t worry, we’ll just buy whatever else you forgot when we get there.” “But--“ It was too late. Satine was dragged out the door and into the waiting taxi before she even had a chance to register the fact that she was leaving. Or that where she was going, she wouldn’t be short on clothes.

Chapter 2

Satine didn’t talk to Kat the entire way to the airport, and only spoke when she absolutely had to on the actual plane. She couldn’t believe what was happening. One second she was moving happily along living her own--albeit boring but hers--life, and the next she was on a plane flying halfway across the country to the life she thought she’d escaped. Satine sat staring at the seat in front of her, tuning out Kat’s conversation with the woman sitting next to her. Her friend seemed to be quite enjoying herself despite the glares Satine kept shooting her. As the pilot announced they would be landing within the next twenty minutes, Satine swallowed hard against a sudden mix of dread and nervousness. She loved her parents dearly, but how could they really expect her to drop everything to fly home and marry a man she’d never met? The plane began its descent and Satine closed her eyes, gripping the arms of her chair. She’d always hated flying. Hated that pushed-into-your-seat-then-lifted-out feeling of taking off, the inevitable turbulence, and finally the slightly out of control swoop that came with landing. No matter how many people told her it was completely safe to fly, she couldn’t help dreading having to do it every time she stepped onto a plane. She couldn’t wait for the day someone invented the blink-and-you’re-there technique. “You okay?” Kat asked happily, turning to look at her. “Just peachy.” Kat smirked then softened, squeezing Satine’s hand. “Don’t worry so much, it can’t possibly be as bad as you’re expecting." A hazy outline of a man that was Quinnlan Laroche wining and dining her for their parents’ glory crossed Satine’s mind and she grimaced. Kat must have mistaken it as a peace offering smile, because she gave her hand another pat, sat back, and said, “I can’t wait to see your parent’s house. From the pictures it looks huge!”

Chapter 3

Huge was an understatement for Tierney Estates. Fantastic was more like it--in every sense of the word. The place, which spanned several acres, was, Satine always hated to admit, practically the size of a small town. The main house stood like a castle amongst a maze of hedges and fountains. Satine had spent many days of her youth pretending she was Alice in Wonderland in those gardens. Four guest houses were spread throughout the property, as well as the horse stables, a swimming pool, tennis courts, and a private lake, which her father had always kept well stocked in the summer. There was another cottage for the house staff, who had always been treated like family, and even a small playground for their children. The entire estate was cut off from the rest of the world by a forest of trees that, (Satine would never say out loud), brought a sense of familiar warmth to her heart as they came into view. As they approached the main gate, Kat sat up, eyes sparkling with excitement. When she saw Satine just shake her head ruefully, Kat asked, “You aren’t the least bit excited?” Satine rolled her eyes, trying and failing to ignore the wave of homesickness that had suddenly come over her. Had she really missed this place that much? The longing in her chest answered yes. She quickly pushed it away. The car came to a stop outside the gate and Sebastian “Tonks” Tonkston turned from the driver’s seat to grin at her. “Welcome home, Tiney.” Satine grinned despite herself. Tonks had been her driver and co-conspirator all her life, often times sneaking her cookies long after she’d had her fair share when she was little. Some of her fondest memories were of making the proper English gentleman play dress-up or My Little Pony. “Thanks, Tonks.” The huge iron gate swung slowly open and Satine took in a steadying breath. Well, this was it. She was really here. No going back now. “By the way,” she asked Tonks dryly as they began driving through, “Have any good combat advice for the sure to be awkward introduction to my future husband?” Kat snorted, quickly turning it into a cough. “Only the usual,” Tonks answered, catching her eye in the rearview mirror. The older man grinned, his handlebar mustache appearing in the bottom of the mirror. “Smile and nod,” Satine muttered as the car continued up the long road to the house. Tonks laughed. “Smile and nod, indeed.”

Chapter 4

Satine had only just stepped out of the car when she heard someone shout, “Polo is that you?” She paused, a secret smile gracing her lips at the sound of her big brother’s voice. She hadn’t seen Max in months, since before his sudden ‘let’s scuba dive around the world’ trip, and couldn’t keep the amusement off her face as she turned to face him.

Crossing her arms she raised an eyebrow and asked, “You were expecting someone else?” Max met her at the car, taking a bag from Tonks as he unloaded it from the trunk, and sighing dramatically as he answered, “Well, I guess you’ll just have to do.” “Careful, or I may have to tell dad you bought a new boat.” “He already knows so your grand plan has failed before it’s begun.” Max smirked, helping Tonks with Kat’s bags and asking, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely friend here?” Max turned all his attention on Kat, running his hand through his unruly black hair and putting on his most devastatingly handsome smile. Satine fought the urge to laugh. “Kat, this is my brother Max. Max, Kat.” “Nice to meet you.” “Pleasure’s all mine.” The two shook hands and Satine took a moment to take in her brother’s appearance. Max had always been blessed with good looks. His hair was the same jet black as hers, but whereas Satine’s was straight as straight could be, her brother’s had a natural wave. It was probably good though, because the man never seemed to care what it looked like. It was perpetually ruffled and askew, as if he’d just woken up and ran a hand through it before stepping into the wind on his boat, which he probably did most days. She guessed he’d been home for at least two days because he was clean-shaven, which of course meant their mother had had a go at him. She had not, however, yet managed to get him to change clothes. Satine grinned at her brother’s casual, laid-back attire, noting the rips in the knees of his jeans. He looked out of place in front of the esteemed backdrop of Tierney Estates. All the more reason to love him. “Kat,” Max said, leading them up to the house as two men dressed in suits helped him with their luggage. “Welcome to our humble abode.” Satine snorted before Kat could answer. “If this is humble, I shudder to think what tomorrow will look like.” “So you’ve heard about the party, huh?” Max asked, turning to smirk at his sister. He pushed his hair back and hauled two suitcases on wheels up and over the stairs. “I guessed as much.” Their parents always insisted on celebrating the return of their children like the whole town needed to know the Tierney’s were all back together again. No doubt this time would be worse than all the others put together. “Hey, it’s not every day their only little girl gets engaged,” Kat teased, and Max laughed as they reached the front door. “Kat, I can tell already we’re going to get along just fine.” Satine rolled her eyes, catching the pleased look in Kat’s eye and muttering, “Just what I need. Two sadists.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Max answered innocently. Kat agreed.

Chapter 5

To Satine, the huge house and ornate decorations, the twin winding staircases and crystal chandeliers were nothing more than home. She’d grown up in what Kat would later describe as a mix of “castle, resort, and huge”, and therefore didn’t take a second look at the portraits on the wall or any of her father’s many artifacts placed tastefully about. If there was one thing she had in common with her father, it was his love of history. She could remember countless hours in her childhood when she’d run downstairs to meet him home from another long trip to some far-off land, anxious to see what sort of treasure he’d brought home this time. They passed a set of armor and an original Van Gough on the way up the stairs, both of which Kat didn’t hesitate to ask about. “Wait till you see your room,” Satine said. In college, she and Kat had hit it off immediately not only personality wise, but because they both shared a keen interest in all things creative. Kat had eventually settled on a major in biochem, but you’d never know it from the way she talked about art and sculpture. Her mother, who still played the cello with the London Philharmonic Orchestra every now and again, had instilled a deep regard and respect for the creative mind--a fact which Kat said only complemented her love of science. They finally made it to the third floor, where all the guest rooms were located, and onto the floor where Kat would be staying. Satine had a pretty good idea which room her parents had chosen for Kat. When they stopped at the large white door flanked by marble Greek columns, she knew her guess was right. “We put you in Mt. Olympus,” Satine said, stopping next to Kat as Max fished out a key from his pocket to unlock the door. “Mt. Olympus?” “Or as we used to call it when we were little,” Max said, opening the door and gesturing them inside. “The statue room.” “Oh wow.” Kat’s eyes lit up and she wasted no time turning about the room to take in the temple-like structure. The room had been one of Satine’s favorites in high school, and she’d often found herself out on the balcony or next to the marble fountain in the middle of the room, writing. Greek artifacts, and even a few statues her father had managed to collect over the years, were placed nicely about the white room, and Satine sighed, allowing herself a moment’s escape to her childhood; to the hours she'd spent curled up on the four-poster bed, staring up at the airy clouds painted on the ceiling. They surrounded the large mural of philosophers, artists, and playwrights that framed the chandelier. She’d been to the Venetian in Las Vegas twice, and was always reminded of this room. It was so peaceful, thoughtful, an escape. “I love it!” Kat said finally, flopping back onto the white down comforter on the bed. She let out a happy sigh then propped herself up on an elbow and frowned at Satine. “Now why on earth,” she said, “Would you ever want to leave this for a meager little one-bedroom apartment?” “I have no idea,” Satine answered sarcastically. She knew her friend was joking. Kat knew better than anyone how much Satine had wanted normalcy in her life. She quite liked microwaving her own supper, thank you very much. They left Kat’s luggage in her room and headed up to the fourth floor, where the family bedrooms were. Satine and Max shared the entire right wing, their parents the left. In between

there was a library and study, and Satine glanced briefly down the hallway towards the door leading to the library. Her brother noticed. “Mom and Dad are in a meeting with the British Ambassador. They said they’ll be done by suppertime.” Of course. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. She hadn’t seen her parents in months and, though she might not like the circumstances surrounding her visit, she was looking forward to seeing them again. Satine opened her bedroom door and stepped back into her childhood with a rueful smile on her lips. Unlike the carefully decorated guestrooms, her parents had allowed her and Max full reign on the design and décor of their own bedrooms. Satine had gone through phase after phase growing up, and she felt the need to change her surroundings to properly fit them. The room that greeted her now was exactly as she had left it the last time she’d been home-a mix of her past, a hope for the future. There was nothing stuck-up or haughty here. No pink frills either. Satine had gone through two phases in high school, décor-wise. Modern and antiques. This meant the room was a surprisingly good mix of sleek black and silver, paired with an old oriental rug, an antique dresser and vanity, and her prized possession--a baby grand piano. Satine walked over to it, running her fingers over the keys, noting that they were free of dust. There was a full grand piano downstairs, but Satine had always preferred to play in her room where she could open her balcony doors and look out over the gardens. She especially loved visualizing herself dancing through the labyrinth of maze like hedges, or running her fingers through the fountain at night, the full moon lighting her way. Satine chuckled at the thought, shaking her head. “What?” Max asked, a lopsided grin on his face. “Feeling sentimental are we?” “Hungry is more like it,” she answered, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “Well don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of food. All your favorites I’m sure.” “Will this be a family thing, or will our…guests,” Satine asked, trying not to think of Quinnlan Laroche, “be joining us?” “Oh they’ll be joining us,” Max answered enjoying his sister’s disappointment possibly just a little too much. “They’re excited to meet the guest of honor.” Kat, who had finally turned her attention from the movie posters lining the far wall, asked, “And just where are the rest of these guests, if I may ask?” She had a much too amused look on her face for Satine’s comfort. Max shot Kat a mischievous look, strolling towards the balcony and telling Satine, “You, my sister, owe me big time.” “Why, what did you do now?” Did she really want him to answer that? “Quinn was pretty adamant about meeting you when you first arrived, but…” Max stepping out onto into the warm evening air. The sun was just beginning to set, highlighting his hair in an amber glow. “But what?” “But I convinced them that they’d want to see the lake first.” He turned back to face them, leaning casually against the railing. “And I guess we just lost track of time.” The look on his face said it all. The only thing missing was a wink. “Quinn and Des didn’t want to greet you smelling like fish and lake, so they’re busy cleaning up as we speak. Said they’d meet us for dinner later.”

Two thoughts immediately struck her. One, she really did owe her brother one as much as she hated to admit it, and two, “Des?” “Desmond Décar,” Max answered, squinting up at something she couldn’t see outside. “Sort of Quinn’s right-hand man, wingman, whatever you want to call it.” “Looks like he brought along some backup too,” Kat said lightly, but Satine knew she was secretly gauging her reaction. Satine just sighed. She wasn’t surprised but she also wasn’t in the mood to entertain two stuffy young gentlemen either. “Well,” she said, grabbing her bags, “I supposed I should start unpacking then.” Max took his cue and headed for the door. He wasn’t about to get stuck putting all her shoes away again like her first Christmas break back from college. That had been hilarious and a memory Satine would never forget. Her mother had insisted Max help his little sister get settled in as quickly as possible, thus the appointment of shoe duty. He’d grumbled about it--Satine was eighteen, she could unpack herself--until he realized it would be much more fun to hide his sister’s shoes randomly about the house first. It’d taken her the whole vacation to find her left black flip-flop. “Dinner’s in half an hour,” Max said as he started down the hall. “Oh, and one more thing.” She waited for him to say it, and when he didn’t, asked, “What?” Max grinned. “Marco.” Satine didn’t answer. They were too old for this. “Marcooo,” he said again, clearly not leaving before he got an answer. “Oh fine.” Satine made a face. “Polo.” Max let out a satisfied laugh and headed for the stairs. “Makes sense now,” Kat said, following Satine back into the room. “Yes, my brother will never grow up.” Kat laughed and helped Satine lug her largest suitcase over to the dresser. “Hey, don’t knock it,” she said. “You have no idea how lucky you are to even have a brother, especially one who actually cares about you.” “I know,” Satine answered, unzipping the bag. “But no matter how old we get, he’ll always be just a little bit annoying.” She laughed and told Kat, who was an only child, about Max’s fun with her shoes. “Where did you finally find it?” Kat asked of the missing flip-flop. “In a fake book I’d used as a treasure box when I was a little kid.” Satine smiled ruefully. “I never would have found it at all if it hadn’t fallen off the shelf when I was trying to sort out my books for the next semester.” Satine pulled out the bottom drawer of her dresser and told Kat she didn’t have to help her. “You have your own unpacking to do, might as well get it over with.” Kat, who absolutely hated unpacking her own clothes, frowned. “I can do it later.” “If you don’t do it now, those clothes will stay in your suitcases until we get back home. Probably for weeks afterward too.” “Fine.” Kat got up to leave and Satine called out, “You’ll thank me later.” “Yeah, yeah.” “No ironing.” “Oh yeah.” Kat perked up. “Didn’t think of that.” She hated ironing even more than she hated unpacking.

“See, what would you do without me?” “Wear wrinkly, unpacked clothes?” “I guess.” Kat laughed and started down the hallway, telling Satine she’d be back before dinner.

Chapter 6

It was ridiculous to be nervous for dinner in your own house, but she was. It wasn’t so much the dinner or the house, but the additional guests that would be joining them. Taking one last glance at herself in the mirror and smoothing her appropriately not too short, not too long, black dress, Satine went to go find Kat. She was just rounding the hallway on the third floor, when a door flung open and a giggling blond stumbled through, pulling a strikingly handsome man out with her. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Satine paused, hoping that maybe the couple would head back inside without noticing her. “Yes, I know,” the man was saying as the woman tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him close with a wicked grin on her face. “But--“ “Why hello there!” the girl interrupted, noticing Satine. “You must be the guest of honor!” At this point, the man in her arms paused ever so briefly before straightening and pulling the giggling young woman to his side. Satine thought she detected a hint of annoyance in his expression, but it disappeared as he forced a smile.” “Satine is it?” the blond woman asked, smiling and hiking her purse back onto her shoulder. “Yes, that’s me.” Satine shook her hand, trying not to smirk as the dark haired gentleman at the girl’s side righted her when she suddenly lost her balance on a little too high of heels. “Oh I’m so honored to meet you! I’m Dori.” She continued to pump Satine’s hand enthusiastically until her companion finally pulled it back with an easy tug of his arm around her waist. She didn’t seem to notice. “And this is Desmond,” Dori said, finally giving a name to the face. She continued to smile, reminding Satine of Dori the scatterbrained fish in Finding Nemo. Her parents must have known something special when choosing her name. “Hello,” Satine said, politely offering her hand to Desmond. “Pleasure to meet you.” For the first time she noticed his English’s accent. She also noticed his eyes--the most striking shade of blue she’d ever seen in her life. There was no mistake, Desmond Décar was a handsome man. He had a perfect jaw and flawless skin. His chestnut colored hair fell in a soft wave just below his ears, the back brushing against his collar. It was the type of hair you wanted to run your fingers through just to prove that it couldn’t possibly be that perfect. For all intents and purposes, the man might as well have been one of the statues in Kat’s room come to life. Although he was giving her a pleasant look, there was something in his eyes that made her think he wasn’t really listening when she asked, “Are you two headed to dinner?” “Dinner?” Dori’s eyes lit up but Desmond quickly said, “No. No, unfortunately we’re not going to make it tonight. Something’s come up in town I’m afraid.”

He glanced at the door behind him as Dori turned to idly play with the edge of his black jacket. “But it was very nice to meet you,” he said, taking Dori’s hand to stop her from fiddling. “You too.” “Yes it was!” Dori said, suddenly re-entering the conversation. “We should get going. Don’t want to make you late for your super.” With that, Desmond guided Dori down the hall, pausing only briefly at the stairs before turning and heading for the elevators instead. “Who was that?” Kat asked, coming up behind her and Satine told her about the odd couple. “Too bad they won’t be joining us,” Kat answered, adjusting her dress and asking, “Is this okay? I didn’t know how fancy a dinner this was supposed to be.” “You look great, and yes,” Satine answered. Unlike the tactless blond that had just left, the one in front of her appeared sophisticated and elegant. Kat had opted for black as well and even managed to get her hair curled in that short amount of time. “What? No ponytail tonight?” “Yeah well, don’t get used to it.” Satine smirked and together they headed down to dinner.

Chapter 7

Satine was seated opposite Quinnlan Laroche at dinner, which would have been fine, or at least bearable, if he would not have tried to engage her in conversation the entire time. By the time she and Kat arrived in the dining room, almost everyone was there . Her mom and dad greeted her with enthusiasm and hugs, very happy to see Kat again as well. Matthew and Vivian Tierney were looking as stunning as ever, both dressed casually yet appropriately, her mother’s black dress matching her hair. Both dark-haired and smooth skinned, it was no wonder the Tierneys’ children looked as they did. Satine glanced at her brother. Max had cleaned up and even managed to find a pair of pants that didn’t have holes and rips everywhere. Their parents must be so proud. Satine made the rounds with the kitchen staff, who were pretty much extended family by now, and by the time she finally got to her seat, Quinn had arrived. She did her very best to address him with as much courtesy as possible, however the mood in the room--or at least hers anyway--had greatly diminished with his presence. After trying unsuccessfully to engage her in constant conversation (she had to eat some time, didn’t she?), Quinn turned his attention to Kat. Satine had to work very hard to keep a straight face when he didn’t seem to pick up on her friend’s sarcasm, instead only giving her a slightly puzzled look and turning to compliment the chef. Quinnlan Laroche was by no means an ugly man. He had strong features and wavy sandy blond hair that looked to have more product in it than Satine cared to think about. There was no wanting to run her fingers through that hair at all. They’d probably get repelled by some security coat or caught up in concrete gel anyway.

He was tall and in good shape, a complete gentleman throughout the meal. Clearly, he’d been brought up for fancy diners and dining with royalty. Satine reserved judgment on the sincerity of his gestures for the moment. “I do hope Desmond finds something to eat,” her mother said as they moved onto dessert. “I still feel guilty for eating without him.” “Oh don’t worry about Des,” Quinn said with a laugh. “He always finds something to do with himself.” “Well if he went to town with Dori,” Max said, grinning mischievously, “I’m sure he won’t have to do it alone.” “I just hope he’s able to escape before the week is up,” their father said, matching his son’s amusement. “Sweet girl, that Dori, but a little scatterbrained if I do say so myself.” “Oh stop it, you two,” his wife scolded, lightly slapping him on the arm. “That’s not nice. Dori is a lovely girl.” Satine met Max’s eye and tried not to laugh when he mimicked Dori’s batting eyes. She wondered how long Dori had lived in town. She didn’t remember her growing up. “Lovely,” Quinn said, politely wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin. “Lovely indeed.” Thus, the evening proceeded until it was finally time to call it a night. Sensing that Quinn was waiting to escort her back to her room, Satine lingered long after both Max and Kat had excused themselves. When it finally became apparent that Satine wanted to be alone with her parents, Quinn finally got up, bowed, once again complimented the lovely meal, and bid everyone a good night. Satine watched him go, waiting until she was sure he was out of earshot, then turned back to her parents and asked, “Really?” Her father quickly held up a hand. “Now before you say anything, just hear me out.” “But-“ “Two minutes, that’s all I’m asking.” “Please dear, your father isn’t trying to be impossible.” Satine frowned but finally conceded. “Two minutes.” Her father relaxed, settling back in his chair and looking, for a moment, like the great businessman that he was. “Now I know what you’re going to say,” he began, “and I just want to make it perfectly clear that I am not going to force you to marry anyone.” So far so good. Satine nodded for him to continue. “I only invited Quinnlan here so you two could meet.” She caught the sideways look he gave her mom and sensed a big “but…” coming. “You see Satine--“ here he shifted uncomfortably, very out of character for a man used to spending his days talking to presidents and kings, “--Montauk Alastair wants to buy the company.” The news came at such an incredible shock that Satine was sure she’d heard wrong. Montauk Alastair was her father’s equivalent of a mortal enemy! He’d all but destroyed his work, toppling everything her father had worked so hard to build throughout his entire life, doing anything and everything he possibly could to sabotage, destroy, or take over Tierney Tech. “Dad, you can’t be seriously considering his offer.” Surely this was some sort of tease for being away from home for so long? A joke? The grim look on her parents’ faces told her otherwise.

“I’m not going to be around forever,” her dad answered softly, lowering his gaze to absently trace the grain of the polished wooden table. A heaviness settled over the room and he added, “And you’ve made it clear you don’t want the company.” “But Alastair?” She still couldn’t believe it. “He’ll destroy the entire thing in a month!” Her anger building, Satine forced her voice to remain calm. “There has to be another option. Besides,” she added, a thought suddenly striking her, “why do you want to sell it now anyway?” Another glance between parents. Satine was starting to get an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. “There…was an accident,” her mother finally answered, searching for the right words. “Accident? What accident?” “One of Alastair’s men broke into our London offices,” her father said. “He saw the prototype for a new set of liquid body armor and, mistaking it for the real thing, enticed one of the guards into shooting him.” Satine didn’t have to ask what happened next. “He’s actually suing us for breaking into our lab?” “Alastair’s claiming one of our guys invited him in for a test run. The man ended up losing his spleen, and Alastair’s threatening to sue for more than he knows the surgery is worth. He’s also talking about calling for a full shutdown inspection of all of Tierney Tech. Claims we’re too dangerous and that someone, namely him, needs to take over to put us in our place.” “That’s ridiculous! No judge will take him seriously.” “Maybe not, until last month.” Uh-oh, it got worse. “What happened last month?” “There was a fire,” her mom answered, taking her husband’s hand. In the Tokyo lab we… we lost a lot of friends.” Satine’s throat tightened. She looked away, unable to bear the pained look on her parents’ faces. “Sabotage?” she asked, staring at the flowery centerpiece on the table. Had that been there the whole time? Her mother always loved fresh flowers at the table. “Most likely.” Her father’s voice was soft but firm. “Was that why you were meeting with the British Ambassador?” Satine asked, turning back to look at them. The tears in her mom’s eyes were gone. She was once again the strong-hearted businesswoman she always was in times of crisis. “So what does any of this have to do with Quinnlan Laroche?” Satine asked. At this point, both her parents seemed a bit uneasy. “Alastair has offered a deal.” Her blood ran cold. “What deal?” “A deal we refuse to take,” her dad answered angrily. Satine turned to her mother for further explanation. “Alastair was willing to let the lawsuit go…” Vivian said, hesitating. “In exchange for your hand in marriage.” “What!” Satine’s surprise quickly morphed into anger then disgust. She would never in a million years--ever dream in her worst nightmares--of marrying Montauk Alastair. Not only was he old enough to be her father, but he was greedy, self-centered, and manipulative. She’d seen him try to destroy all their lives more than once. How could he ever expect her to marry him? Ugh, the thought alone sent shudders down her spine. “So you’re hoping if he hears about me and Quinn…”

“Quinnlan’s family is much too powerful for Montauk to interfere.” “Does Quinn know about this?” Satine asked, head spinning from the suddenness of it all. “Yes,” her mom said. “So please don’t think of this as some sort of secret ploy on you both.” She looked so hopeful, Satine didn’t know what to say. “We’re not asking you to marry him tomorrow, just get to know him, spend some time with him.” She stared at them both, some part of her still expecting them to burst out laughing with a, “Gotcha!” The other part was still waiting to wake up. “Satine?” her mom finally asked, breaking into her thoughts. “Say something, please.” “We don’t like this anymore than you do,” her father added. “I…think it’s been a long day,” Satine finally said, standing up. “Good, yes get some sleep, think it over.” Think it over? What was there to think over? She felt the entire weight of Tierney Tech resting on her shoulders, and should she lean either way, something bad was bound to happen. “Goodnight.” “We’re so glad you’re home, honey.” “Me too.” Satine hugged her parents and headed back up to her room, mind whirring a mile a minute. Some homecoming.

Chapter 8

By the time Satine had finished explaining all of it to Kat, it was past one in the morning. As she had expected, her friend had been waiting up to see what this was all about. She was as surprised as Satine to learn the truth. After assuring Satine that they’d think of some way to work all this out, Kat had headed off to her room. She was too tired to think up a good plan tonight, but insisted they’d get on it first thing in the morning. Once Kat left, Satine got ready for bed, discovering soon enough that she was much too restless to get to sleep. After tossing and turning for nearly an hour and a half, she flung back the covers with a long sigh. Her dad’s words still echoed in her head--“We’re not asking you to marry him tomorrow.” But just exactly what were they expecting? What was Quinn expecting? Was he okay with this? And even if he was, what did he get out of the deal? She crossed to the window, pulling back the gossamer curtains and opening the balcony door. The cool night air brushed against her cheek, helping her relax. She took in a long breath, closing her eyes and letting the fresh smell of the country and sound of a chirping cricked wash over her. It was nice to be away from the city. If she was going to do some major thinking, at least this was the place to do it. Opening her eyes, she stepped out into the moonlight, a twinge of familiarity sending her back to her childhood and the many nights spent out here on this balcony staring up at the stars, watching the clouds pass over the phases of the moon.

An increased breeze had her stepping back in for a blanket before she settled onto the padded bench her father had built for her after finding her dragging too many pillows out onto the balcony at all hours of the day and night. After more than a few of them had landed on the gardener one day, her dad had agreed to build her a comfortable sitting area outside her balcony doors. It was more a daybed than a bench, and curved along the outside corner of the next room. It was still one of Satine’s favorite places in the whole world. Curling up with a blanket wrapped around her, she felt hidden. Safe. She was thinking about going to get a book when the soft crunch of footsteps caught her attention.

Chapter 9

A lone figure rounded the bend in the driveway, a shadow in the moonlight. As it approached, Satine recognized Desmond Décar. She glanced at the clock. What was he doing walking around at 2:30 in the morning? Surely he and Dori, couldn’t have had that much fun to warrant a stealthy return by foot at this late--or early--an hour. Satine shook her head. Nobody said anything about stealth. Desmond probably just realized that Tonks would be asleep and had opted to walk back from town or catch a ride instead of waking the driver. Still, even if he’d walked from the road, that was a long way. As Desmond got closer, Satine noticed he was limping slightly. Curious, she leaned forward, wondering what had happened. Desmond was almost directly under her balcony when he suddenly stopped. Satine shrank back into the shadows, not wanting to be caught spying. Desmond stood beneath the glow of the outside lanterns for a moment then started forward again. The limp was gone. Had she imagined it? Desmond reached the front door, disappearing inside, and Satine sighed. She should probably be getting back in too. She fell asleep wondering where Mr. Décar had been that night.

Chapter 10

The next few days passed easily enough. Satine and Quinn went about things normally, neither acknowledging the strange circumstances of their stay. If there was one thing she could say about the man, it was that he sure loved the sound of his own voice. Maybe he was just used to keeping a conversation going, but by the end of the third day, Satine realized they could carry on a conversation without much more than a nod or an encouraging, “Oh is that so?” on her part. As they rounded the lake on horseback, her mother and father leading the way, Kat and Desmond a few steps behind, Satine only vaguely paid attention to Quinn’s scuba diving in the Blue Holes story.

“Unbelievable,” he said. “So much unexplored territory. Quite an adventure, wasn’t it Des?” “Quite.” It was said without enthusiasm, and Satine turned to study Quinn’s friend. For the time being, he’d been pleasant enough, following Quinn around like a loyal friend, but never in the way, and complimenting Satine’s mother on her lovely home and the chef on the food he barely touched. Satine had never seen her mother blush quite so much as when Desmond showed a genuine interest in the paintings she’d hung in the sitting room. Satine wondered if someone had tipped him off that Vivian had painted them herself. Still, he seemed sincere in his compliments. “…if you wanted to, of course.” Quinn was suddenly looking at her, and Satine realized he’d asked her a question. Unfortunately she had no idea what it was. “Oh you don’t want to see her at that altitude,” Kat, bless her, answered for Satine with a laugh. “The girl can barely breathe simply driving through the Rockies!” Kat gave her a pointed look, and Satine joined in the laughter. “She’s right. Not a pretty sight.” “Ah well, too bad for that. The view alone is worth the trip.” Quinn brought his horse to a stop. “This really is a lovely place,” he said, moving on from one topic to the next. Satine shot Kat a silent thank-you and brought her own horse to a stop next to her mother’s. As she was stepping out of the saddle, her mom leaned over to whisper, “You could at least pretend to pay attention to him, dear.” She said it with a twinkle in her eye though, and Satine fought the urge to grin. Pay attention. Right. She’d get right on that.

Chapter 11

The sun was just beginning to set by the time they’d finished their picnic supper--mom’s idea--and Satine leaned back against a nearby tree. Tonks and Max had come to collect the horses so they wouldn’t have to ride back in the dark, much to Kat’s relief, and now they were all sitting around the campfire staring out at the lake. Her mother and Kat were discussing the latest in Paris fashion, a subject alien to Satine who preferred comfort to name, and her father and Quinn were discussing an even worse topic-politics. This left only Satine and Desmond to sit awkwardly in silence, staring out at the barely rippling water. “Enjoying your trip so far?” Satine asked, trying to remember her hostess etiquette. He turned to look at her for a second, as if vaguely surprised she was speaking to him, then turned back to the lake, answering simply, “Yes.” Okay then. “How’s Dori?” she asked, hoping for a subject she might get more than a one word answer on. Once again she thought she detected a faint glimmer of irritation in his eyes, but it passed so quickly she was sure she must have imagined it. “Fine,” he answered, still watching the lake.

So much for-“I suppose.” Wow, three whole words, two of which she hadn’t even asked for. Now she was getting somewhere. Even so, Satine couldn’t help but ask, “I suppose?” He turned his gaze back on her, expression blank. “I say ‘suppose’ because I haven’t seen her since the night you met us both.” Whoops, okay, wrong choice of subject Satine. She was trying to come up with a better one when Desmond softly added, “Sorry about that, by the way.” “About what?” “Dori,” he answered, staring at a stone he’d picked up off the lakeside. “She’s…” “Enthusiastic?” Satine supplied, suppressing a satisfied look when he looked up. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was almost a smirk on his face. “Enthusiastic, yes.” They stared at each other a moment and Satine was just about to ask how he’d met enthusiastic Dori, when Quinn called out, “Hey, Des!” Desmond’s attention shot past Satine to where Quinn and her father were sitting. Quinn waved him over. “Come here a second,” he said, a stick in one hand, apparently having been drawing something in the sand for Satine’s dad. Desmond turned the stone over in his hand, ran a thumb over its smooth surface, then stood up and tossed it out to the water, where it skipped five times before disappearing beneath the softly lapping waves. “Excuse me.” He nodded in her direction then headed over to join the men. Satine watched him go, meeting Kat’s gaze across the firelight. Her friend raised an eyebrow and Satine shrugged. Desmond Décar was still as difficult to read as ever. The rest of the night was spent making s’mores and laughing as her parents recounted some of their more disastrous campout experiences with Satine and Max when they were kids. Oddly enough, Satine didn’t mind so much. So long as most of the embarrassing parts were about Max--which Kat pointed out wasn’t fair, seeing as how he wasn’t there to defend himself. What kind of sister would she be, Satine had countered, if she didn’t use that to her advantage? Even Desmond cracked a smile at that.

Chapter 12

“Hey!” Satine looked up to see her brother jogging towards them, out of breath. The moon provided enough light to see where they were going, yet Max carried a flashlight and sounded out of breath. More than that, he looked worried. And Max didn’t get worried easily. “Max?” their mother asked, alarmed. “What are you doing? What’s wrong.” “Have you seen Tonks?” “No.” Satine winced against the sudden light. “Why? What happened?”

“Something spooked the horses when we were putting them back in the stables. We got split up.” Max continued to explain what had happened as he ran his beam of light along the woods. Apparently a few of the horses had taken off and by the time Max got his back in the stable, the one Tonks had gone after was already trotting back by herself. The man who had gone after her was nowhere to be found. “Maybe he saw you get both horses back in and went inside?” Vivian asked hopefully, glancing at her husband. Matthew’s brow furrowed as he thought for a moment, and then said, “Alright let’s split up. Tonks wouldn’t just leave you hanging like that, something must have happened.” “We’re going to need more flashlights,” Kat said suddenly as everyone started moving. Quinn agreed. “She’s right. I’ll go back with Max and gather some more.” “I’ll go with you,” Desmond said, but Quinn shook his head. “The faster we find Tonks the better.” He grinned and slapped his friend on the back, adding, “Besides, you were always better at the finding in hide-and-seek anyway.” Vivian sent the remains of their picnic dinner back with her son and turned to follow her husband, calling out Tonks’s name. Satine and Kat exchanged a glance, both noticing that Desmond didn’t seem too happy with the situation. Satine debated asking him to join them in the search, but after watching Quinn and Max head back to the house, he simply turned and started for the tree line alone. Well all right then. Satine shrugged, and she and Kat headed the other way. They fanned out, calling Tonks’s name, and getting no answer but the sound of chirping crickets and the occasional owl hoot. Max and Quinn returned with flashlights for everyone, as well as a few of the house staff, and once again everyone spread out. “This is weird,” Kat said, stepping under a low-hanging branch and warning Satine of a particularly uneven patch of ground. “Where could he have gone?” “I have no idea. Tonks isn’t one to take off into the woods in the middle of the night. Especially not t without telling anyone.” “You think he got hurt looking for the horse?” “I hope not.” The longer they looked the more worried Satine became. Tonks was family. She’d known him her whole life, and the thought of him lying out in the woods hurt and alone gave her an uneasy empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pushed it away. They’d find him. Yes. She followed Kat through the trees, glancing over her shoulder to see how far they’d gone from the lake. She’d spent all of her childhood in these woods, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get lost. Satine was trying to gage where everyone else was by the shouts of “Tonks!” when she suddenly ran into the back of Kat. “Oh, sor--“ “Shhh,” Kat interrupted, holding out a hand to stop her. “Did you hear that?” Satine turned her attention to the spot Kat was staring at and listened. Nothing but the soft brush of wind on leaves. Even the crickets had stopped. She tuned out the fading voices of the others and tried harder to listen. Bugs? Check. Light waves lapping against the bank? Check. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

Just when she was about to tell Kat that she didn’t hear anything, a rustling came from her right. “There,” Kat hissed, swinging her flashlight towards a bush. She glanced from Satine to the bush. “Are there any large wild animals out here I should know about?” “Occasionally we’ll have a fox or a deer but--“ Another rustle, this one much louder, sounded directly behind them, and Kat and Satine swung around, instinctively stepping closer to each other. “Hello?” Satine shined her flashlight beam around. “Anybody there?” In the back of her mind she knew no one would answer, but it made her feel better to keep talking. “Tonks?” Kat tried, squinting at the forest that suddenly seemed to go on forever. Thump! Crack! This time when they swung around, a large shadow shot by, knocking Satine’s flashlight out of her hand. She heard Kat shout, “Hey!” as her light went out, and turning to see if her friend was okay--bam! Something hard struck the back of Satine’s head. With a whoosh of pain, the night suddenly got a lot darker.

Chapter 13

“Satine?...Satine!” This time it was louder. With a groan, she lifted her hand to her head. Kat breathed a note of relief and dropped down in front of her to make sure she was okay. She kept talking, kept asking Satine questions as a hand found her back, helping her sit up. Another rested on her shoulder. As she was wondering how Kat’s voice could be in front of her when her hands were behind her, Satine realized there was someone else there. She tried opening her eyes to see who it was, but the hand on her shoulder stilled her. “Whoa, take it easy, that’s a pretty nasty bump on the head you got there.” Recognizing Quinn’s voice, Satine forced her eyes open to find him crouched down next to her, Kat at his side, giving Satine an apprehensive look. “Oh, for a second I thought you were dead!” she said, grabbing Satine’s hand in hers and holding up two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?” “I’m fine Kat, really.” “How many?” “Two, okay?” “Good.” Shaking herself out of her momentary confusion, Satine twisted out of Quinn’s grasp so she could look between them. “What happened?” “It was the most bizarre--I mean we just heard the rustling, then the thump, and all of a sudden, bam!” Kat slammed the ground with her palm. “You were out.” “I was?” Frowning, she let Kat and Quinn help her up, ignoring the dizziness as she tried to remember what had happened. She sort of remembered being struck. “Somebody ran by,” she said finally, glancing around as if whoever it had been would magically step out of the forest and apologize for knocking her unconscious.

Kat handed her a flashlight. “Something knocked my flashlight out of my hand, but I didn’t see who or what it was.” “What?” Kat shrugged. “Could have been a deer.” She had a point. Quinn was still eyeing her as if he expected her to fall over any second, and Satine quickly changed the subject. “Have they found Tonks yet?” “Not yet,” he said, frowning. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “I’m fine.” To prove her point, she took a step forward, regretting it immediately when the world suddenly dipped to the left. Kat grabbed her arm at the same time Quinn caught her shoulder and Satine cursed the uneven ground for making it look like she couldn’t even walk on her own. “Satine--“ “Kat, I’m fine, really. Just a bump on the head, nothing to worry about.” “You could have a concussion,” Quinn said, but she ignored him, taking a deep breath and, feeling much steadier, took a few steps on her own. When she didn’t fall or succumb to another nasty bit of dizziness, she gave herself a mental pat on the back. There now, wasn’t so hard, was it? Just walking after all, you’ve done most of your life without falling down, you can do it again now. She’d only taken two more steps when something suddenly pushed out of the trees in front of her, startling her and making her backpedal. So much for gaining ground. “Desmond?” Kat gasped as she grabbed Satine’s arm to keep her from ending up on her back again. “What--“ “Tonks!” Satine spotted him slung around Desmond’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He looked like he was out cold--no worse than that, he looked dead. Forgetting her own dizziness, Satine rushed forward. “What happened? Where did you find him? Tonks?” She patted the unconscious man’s cheeks, willing him to wake up. “Tiney?” Tonks groaned. “Is that you?” Relief poured through her, making her knees weak. “Yeah, yeah it’s me. I’m right here.” Satine, Kat, and Quinn helped Desmond set Tonks down on his feet, his thin tall frame suddenly looking much too frail. The poor man was completely confused, blinking around the forest and losing his balance when Desmond started to let go of him. “Here,” Desmond said, leaning him by a nearby tree and producing what looked like the thermos from their picnic. “Drink this.” Tonks thanked him, taking a long drink of hot tea before handing the thermos back and leaning against the tree. Unable to wait any longer, Satine rushed forward to give him a hug, asking, “What happened?” Tonks chuckled, giving her a reassuring pat. “Not to worry Tiney, I’m quite alright thanks to Mr. Décar here.” “Call him Des,” Quinn said with a smirk. “He hates being called “Mr.” Tonks’s laugh was a good effort for such a frazzled man. “Alright then, thank you very much, Des.” Desmond nodded, and when Satine turned to see why he wasn’t saying anything, she noticed his clothes for the first time. “My goodness, what happened to you?” she asked at the same time Kat noticed his torn shirt and muddied attire, mumbling, “And I thought we had it bad.”

“Nothing.” “Nothing? You look like you were just in a fight with a bear.” Satine wrinkled her nose. “And what is that smell?” “That would be me,” Tonks apologized. “I’m afraid I spent quite some time in the lake before M--Desmond pulled me out.” Satine had been so relieved to see Tonks that she hadn’t even realized it when she hugged him that both he and Desmond were soaking wet. Not to mention that it was hard to tell in the dark. “Oh, you must be freezing!” she said quickly, “I’m so sorry, let’s get you back to the house.” Deciding she must have been hit harder on the head then she thought, Satine swung one of Tonks’s arms over her shoulders. “Here Satine, let us help Tonks,” Quinn said, stepping up to the man’s other side. “You still might have a concussion.” “Concussion?” Desmond asked, his gaze snapping up to meet hers. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” “It’s not nothing,” Kat argued. “You were out cold for five minutes. If Quinn hadn’t come along I was going to have to leave you here to find someone to help drag you back to the land of the conscious.” Five minutes? Had it really been that long? It had only felt like a few seconds. Oh well, she was fine now, and Tonks was the one they needed to be worried about. “We need to get Tonks back to the house before he freezes to death,” she said, ignoring Kat’s look and continuing to hold on to her favorite butler. “And Desmond,” she amended, giving the man a sideways glance. “It’s not that cold out Tiney--“ “Oh you are just as bad as she is,” Kat interrupted with an exasperated sigh. Satine didn’t argue. “Learned it from the best.” As Tonks chuckled, Kat waved Satine aside, taking her place under Tonks’s arm and telling Satine to start walking. “If you’re going to faint again you might as well take down just yourself instead of three people.” Satine gave in and let Kat help Quinn with Tonks. They should probably let everyone else know he’d been found. As if sensing things were okay now, the crickets started back up and Satine was suddenly very tired. Her head ached and she still wondered who hit her, but that could wait for later. Right now they needed to get Tonks inside. “Come on now, move. Both of you,” Kat ordered, gesturing Desmond and Satine forward. “And Satine, if you can manage it without another dizzy spell, you might want to check out that gash on Desmond’s side.” Satine and Desmond both looked at her in surprise, then at each other. Satine glanced down at his abdomen, where his shirt was ripped the worst, and immediately felt guilty. She’d been so focused on Tonks she hadn’t realized that the man who’d pulled him out of the lake was hurt. She took one step towards Desmond to offer to look at it, but he just turned away, mumbling that he was fine, and walked back into the trees, leading the way. Satine stared after him a second, then looked at Kat and shrugged. If the man didn’t want help, who was she to argue? Ignoring her own pounding head, Satine took Kat’s advice and started back to the clearing to meet up with everyone else.

Chapter 14

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Satine insisted, trying to ignore the pointed look Kat was giving her as she changed the ice in the water bottle. After making sure Tonks was okay, her mother had found out about Satine’s hit on the head and insisted she take some ice to her room. She also insisted that Kat stay with her the next few hours to make sure she didn’t fall asleep from a concussion. Kat had agreed to move into Satine’s room for the night, and was taking her job as a nurse quiet seriously. “You’re not the least bit concerned about that cut on his side?” “Desmond’s a big boy I’m sure he can take care of hi--ow!” Satine jumped as Kat pressed the water bottle to the back of her head. “Sorry.” Kat sounded anything but as she sat down on the opposite side of the bed, crossing her legs and lifting an eyebrow. “Besides,” Satine continued, feeling the need to defend herself, though she didn’t quite know why. “My mom already sent him back to his room with a full-on medical kit when he refused to let anyone look at it. I’m sure I’m the last person he’d want showing up at his room in the middle of the night demanding to play doctor.” Kat smirked. “Play doctor?” Satine groaned. “Alright, poor choice of words, I’ll give you that one.” Kat laughed and flopped back on the king-sized bed, resting her hands beneath her head and propping her ankle up on her bent knee. “You really think he just jumped right in and didn’t see the tree?” she asked. Satine leaned back against her pillow, awkwardly trying to keep the ice against her head as she answered, “Sure, why not? It was dark.” Kat lifted a conspiratorial eyebrow. “Then how did he see Tonks?” “I’d have jumped right in if I’d seen him floating in the lake too. He acted on instinct.” “And got hurt.” “Your point being…?” “You should go check on him.” “Ohhh,” Satine groaned. The woman was insufferable! “If you’re so worried about him, why don’t you go check on him?” “Because it’s not my house,” Kat answered easily. “Or my lake, or my childhood butler/driver, or--“ “If I go, will you promise to drop the subject?” “Of course.” “From here on out? No more questions or pestering about what happened or why he jumped into the lake?” “Unless of course he tells you what really happened.” Satine couldn’t help it, she laughed. Kat really was the sister she’d never had. And despite all her annoying habits, she loved her for it. “Okay fine,” she agreed. “I’ll go pester the poor wounded guest if you’ll go downstairs and get rid of this ice.” “But your mom said--“

“No buts. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.” Kat sighed, taking the ice. “Fine. But if your mother catches me, I’m sending her back up with it.” “Deal.” And so it was that Satine found herself standing outside Desmond Décar’s bedroom door even after he’d insisted he needed no help.

Chapter 15

“It’s unlocked,” Desmond called out and Satine hesitated. Was he waiting for someone else? As she debated whether or not to announce herself, the door opened. “Oh,” he said, staring blankly at her. “It’s you.” “Uh yeah, sorry.” She was slightly embarrassed to find him in only a pair of jeans. He was shirtless and barefoot, but at least he’d managed to change out of his wet clothes. From the look of his tussled hair and the towel around his neck, he’d just gotten out of the shower. “I, uh, just came to make sure you had everything you needed.” She forced herself to keep her eyes on his. “You know, for your cut and all.” Oh real smooth, Satine. Real smooth. “Yes I do, thank you.” He smiled politely, hand still on the door as if expecting to shut it once she’d turned to leave, but Satine didn’t move. “How is your side?” Stop talking and leave already! Unfortunately, she wasn’t very good at listening to herself. Or moving apparently, because she felt glued to the floor. “It’s fine.” Her gaze dropped to his torso, and Satine’s eyes widened. No, it wasn’t the incredibly toned body that caught her attention, but the deep gash beneath his ribs that disappeared under the edge of the towel. She was stepping through the door before she even knew what she was doing. “Oh wow, Desmond I am so sorry,” she said, automatically reaching to gingerly move the towel aside. “I didn’t know it was this bad.” He tensed as her fingers brushed his bare skin and the door shut behind him, but said nothing as she leaned forward to get a closer look. “A tree did this?” she asked, glancing at his face for confirmation before gently touching the skin around the wound. He’d apparently hastily fastened a few band-aids over it to keep it from bleeding long enough for him to take a shower, but now that he was out of the water it was bleeding again. “I said I was fine,” he answered, staring calmly down at her. “You shouldn’t have troubled yourself.” “Troubled? Desmond, you need stitches. Or at the very least a better set of bandages.” Her eye caught the bruising above the cut and she immediately hated herself for not making sure someone checked him out before he went back to his room. A bruised (or worse) rib was nothing to take lightly.

She straightened, looking around his room. “You’ve got to be in a lot of pain. Where’s that medical kit my mom sent up? There should be--” “Satine.” He took her arm to get her to focus. “I’m fine.” It was the first time he’d said her name, and for some reason it threw her off-guard. It was ridiculous to dwell on one pronunciation of her name, after all she’d heard it to the tune of many accents before, but there was something different, almost…calming, reassuring, in the way Desmond said it. He was looking at her and she realized she was staring. Quickly clearing her throat, she lowered her arm and turned her back to him, searching for the medical kit. “Fine or not, you can’t leave yourself in that state all night.” “Worried I might get blood on the sheets?” She was ready to argue but stopped when she saw his face. Well look at that, Desmond Décar had a sense of humor after all. “Something like that.” She found the medical bag on the dresser and went to open it. Growing up, Satine had seen more than her fair share of first-aid kits. With her clumsiness and Max’s rambunctious escapades, their mother had learned quickly to always keep medical supplies handy. Satine couldn’t count the number of times she’d had to help Max tend to his scrapes and bruises. She’d even helped him pop his shoulder back into place. Twice. When she pulled a needle and thread out of the bag, Desmond backed up, showing the first sign of apprehension since she’d arrived. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little needle,” Satine teased. Not that she wasn’t more than a little nervous about having to sew up a stranger, but he couldn’t just slap a band-aid on a wound like that. She took a step towards him, and he held up a hand. “I’m fine.” “Even I know that that--“ she gestured to his still bleeding cut “--Is not fine.” He stared at the needle a second, working his jaw then said, “Liquid stitches.” “What?” “In the bag.” Oh. Right. That would be a lot easier. Still, she wasn’t sure if they would work on something that bad. When she told him so, he argued that it was liquid stitches or nothing. Fine, if he was going to be that stubborn, let him. At least it was better than nothing. Retrieving the liquid stitches from the bag, she asked him if wanted to take off the haphazardly placed band-aids or if she was going to have to do it. He let her do it, staring stonily at the wall behind her as she carefully cleaned and dressed the wound, applying the liquid stitches then a much better bandage. By the time she was done, she was feeling quite pleased with herself. “There,” she said, stepping back. “How does that feel?” “Good.” Well at least it wasn’t a “fine”. Maybe they were getting somewhere. “How about your ribs? You want some ice?” “Your head feeling better?” he asked, changing the subject in four easy words. That darkening bruise on his chest was definitely troubling. “Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s--“ “Fine?” The tone of his voice made her look up, and--whoa, two smirks in one night? Must be a record. Instead of answering him, Satine ignored him and said, “If you want the ice--“

“No, thank you. You’ve done more than enough.” She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but eventually decided that he sounded sincere enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. They stood staring at each other for another moment, and Satine was once again struck by the intensity of his gaze. Maybe it was just because Desmond’s hair was wet, but his eyes burned even bluer than before. She felt like they were boring into her with some deep intelligence, and…curiosity? Amusement? There was definitely something else there she couldn’t quite place. A drop of water fell from a stray lock of hair over his forehead, flitting through his eyelash before landing on his cheek. She watched it course downward, past his lips and jaw, gliding down his neck. He didn’t seem to notice. She watched the droplet move to a silver chain around his neck she hadn’t noticed before. Instead of evaporating , the water slid down the length of chain to a small clear vial hanging against Desmond’s bare chest. There, for the briefest of moments, it seemed to glow then suddenly, it was gone. Huh. Curiosity peaked, Satine leaned closer. Whatever was in the vial was clear, almost luminescent. If she had to guess, she would have said it was water. But that was odd, why would Desmond be wearing a vial of water? Maybe-“Well it’s late and I wouldn’t want to keep you up,” he said suddenly, snapping her back to reality. Satine hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Right, sorry, you’re probably tired.” Taking the hint, she quickly gathered up all the medical supplies and put them back in the bag. “Just in case,” she told him, patting the bag and doubting he would ever use it. The man was stubborn, that’s for sure. He also didn’t seem the least bit concerned by an injury that should have rendered him immobile by now. Oh well, what more could she do? Satine was almost out the door before-“Thank you.” She paused, giving the hallway a surprised look. This time he really did sound like he meant it. Apparently her surprise was still lingering, because when she turned to face him, the corner of his mouth twitched before falling back into place. “Good night, Satine,” Desmond said, giving her a slight bow. The door closed before she could get out a quiet, “Goodnight.”

Chapter 16

“So that’s it?” Kat asked, quickly paying for the four peaches she’d just picked out and hurrying after Satine. “He just let you fix him up without an argument?” “Well he wasn’t thrilled about it, but yeah, pretty much.” “See, and here you were all, ‘oh he’s not gonna want me there’, ‘he’ll toss me out’, ‘he--“

“Didn’t want me there, and he did toss me out,” Satine interrupted, weaving her way through the afternoon crowd. It was a beautiful day out, and the farmer’s market was yet another thing she’d forgotten how much she missed from home. Every Saturday, come rain or shine, in the summer and even into the fall, you could find locals and traveling regulars setting up booths by the old train station. Just off the busy business district, in what everyone around here called Old Town, anyone who wanted to could set up their table and sell their fresh vegetables, fruit, handmade goods. You wouldn’t find peaches like these, or corn like that on table they were headed to now, in your usual supermarket superstore. It was a nice change from the bustling city life she’d been living in these past few years. Satine looked around. Here was definitely a place you didn’t have to worry about someone picking your pocket or kidnapping your kids. Families had picnics in the nearby park, and people brought their dogs to play with their doggie buddies. Tourists were always checking out the old caboose that had been turned into an information booth when they’d swapped cabooses for engines, and a squeal of laughter filled the air as two little boys climbed onto the back to pretend to conduct. She smiled, hardly even able to remember what it was like to watch the happy yellow caboose whisk by, signaling the end of the train. Now that she thought about it, she kind of missed them. They reached the table of sweet corn, and Satine began peeling back the silky top to check the kernels inside. Her mouth watered. It’d been far too long since she’d had fresh corn off the stalk. “So,” Kat asked as she bit into a peach. She let out a heavenly sigh, swallowed, and finished, “What about Quinn?” “What about him?” Satine asked, piling the corn into the cloth bag her mother hand sent with them. “Have you decided if you’re going to marry him yet?” Satine stopped with the corn to glare at her friend but Kat couldn’t keep a straight face. She burst out laughing. “Don’t worry,” she said, still grinning. “He’ll never know how deep the yearning really is.” “You really are hopeless, you know that?” “So I’ve been told.” They finished picking out enough corn for lunch one of these next few days, and as Satine was paying the nice little old man who ran the booth, Kat suddenly said, “Oh! Cherries!” She thrust her bag of peaches and another one of lettuce at Satine and said, “I’ll be right back.” She was off into the crowd of faces before Satine could get her change.

Chapter 17

“Have you seen Quinn?” She was so surprised to find Desmond suddenly standing next to her that it took a moment for Satine to register what he was asking.

“Quinn?” She struggled to keep all the vegetables in order. “No, why?” Desmond scanned the crowd. “Where did Kat run off to?” “She saw some cherries, said she’d be right back--“ Satine lost her train of her thought, frowning as she tried to juggle all the fruits and vegetables while attempting to get her change back into her purse. Without even looking, Desmond reached over, took the bag of corn in one hand and her purse in the other and slid the five dollars and 38 cents into Satine’s wallet. He closed both the wallet and the purse and handed it back, slinging the bag of corn over his shoulder, still scanning the crowd. She stared at him. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome. Let’s go.” He was guiding her into the crowd before she had a chance to ask where they were going, and she was still trying to get a good hold on the lettuce by the time she managed to ask, “Why are we walking so fast?” “It’s easy to lose someone in this crowd.” He guided her onward with a hand at the small of her back. Any other man would have looked ridiculous carrying such a big flowery bag full of corn under his arm, but Desmond didn’t even seem to notice it. Either that or he didn’t care. “Are you okay?” she asked, wondering why they needed to find their friends so fast. “Yes, why?” “Because I forgot to pack my running shoes, but if you’d slow down a second, I’m sure I could find someone to buy some from.” He stopped finally and looked at her. “Seriously,” she asked. “What’s the hurry? Kat’ll be right back in a minute, and I’m sure Quinn just got distracted by the knife guy or something.” “We already talked to the knife guy,” Desmond answered. Without missing a beat, he added, “But what we were really interested in was that giant bouncy thing over there.” Satine followed his gaze to the big blow-up castle that kids were jumping in at the end of the road. “Alright, I get it,” she said. “You’ve had enough. Max said they got the rest of what we need this morning anyway, so we can go.” Her brother and some of the kitchen staff had set out this morning, but the best “corn man”, as they used to call him when they were little, hadn’t set up yet, so Satine offered to come back with Kat this afternoon to get it. It was her mother who had suggested Quinn and Desmond go with them. “There you are.” Quinn suddenly appeared at their side, licking a fast melting ice cream waffle cone. He held up two clear bags for Desmond to see. Triumphantly, he reported, “Sunflower seeds and Bing cherries, my friend. I love this place.” Desmond glanced at the bags then back to Quinn. He said nothing. “Did you see Kat over at the cherry stand?” Satine asked. “Yes, she said she needed to find a napkin or somewhere to wash her hands. Apparently her peach was juicier than she’d anticipated.” Satine glanced at Desmond. See? Their friends were just wandering around being normal human beings enjoying the market. Unlike some people. “Where would she go to wash her hands?” Desmond asked, and Satine could only stare at him. “You really want to get out of here, don’t you?”

“Don’t mind him,” Quinn said with a laugh, running a cherry through his ice cream before popping it into his mouth. “He’s been a little grumpy ever since he pulled your friend out of the lake. I told him to take some painkillers, but he wouldn’t listen.” Desmond shot Quinn a stern look, and Satine wondered where her head had been when he’d agreed to join them on this particular outing. Dragging a man with bruised, possibly cracked, ribs out into a swarm of elbows and running kids was probably not the best idea. He didn’t seem to be in that much pain though. In fact, had she not attended to the wound herself the night before, she never would have guessed what lay beneath his black jacket and shirt. Wasn’t he hot? Deciding that Desmond would never admit to needing to get back to the house because of any discomfort to himself, Satine pointed them in the direction of the library. Or rather, in the direction of an alley that was the best shortcut to the next street where the library was. “Kat probably went there to wash her hands.” As if on cue, Kat rounded the corner, spotted them, and waved. They were just about to head towards her when a woman called out, “Quinn! Desmond!” Satine recognized Dori’s voice at the same time Desmond did, and--why didn’t he like her? When he turned to face the woman, whatever annoyance Satine thought she’d seen was gone. Must have been a trick of the light. Again. “Dori,” he said, nodding a hello. “Des.” The woman grinned at him then turned and her eyes lit up. “Quinn.” Quinn returned her smile and hello, allowing Dori to take his arm with a giggle, and Satine suddenly realized something. When she’d first run into Desmond and Dori in the hallway, she’d figured it was Desmond Dori was after. But now, standing in the moving throng of marketers, it was clear. Dori had fallen for Quinn and it was written all over her face. Kat joined them and Dori suddenly noticed Satine for the first time. “Oh hello,” she said, smiling. “Hi,” both women answered as Satine handed Kat back the lettuce and peaches. “I can take that now,” she added to Desmond, who merely muttered that he had it and kept the corn bag on his shoulder. “So what are you guys doing out here?” Dori asked, as peppy as ever. She still hadn’t let go of Quinn’s arm. “Just picking up a few things,” he answered, and before he could elaborate, Desmond said, “Just leaving actually.” “Oh.” Dori’s disappointment was evident. She let go of Quinn’s arm, but suddenly pepped up when she remembered, “I’ll see you at the ball tonight though, right?” Satine inwardly cringed. She hated the name. It was just a dinner and dance her parents insisted on hosting for her while she was home, did it really need to be called a “ball”? It all felt a little too warped fairy tale for her liking. And since she was the guest of honor, so to speak, she would have to spend all night with a smile plastered over her face as she pretended to be interested in all the business small talk. At least maybe this time with talk of her and Quinn no doubt circulating, she may have hope of escaping the constant hitting-on by the male guests. It was a nice thought, but she wasn’t holding her breath. “Yes, of course,” she answered politely. “And speaking of the ball, we should probably be going so we can get ready in time.” “Wouldn’t want to be late to your own party!” Dori agreed with a laugh, and Satine forced a similarly joyful, “Oh I know!”

Next to her with the peaches and lettuce, Kat stifled a snort.

Chapter 18

By the time they finally managed to escape Dori and get back to the house, it really was about time to start getting ready. They quickly dropped off the vegetables and headed up to their perspective rooms. Satine tried not to think too much about the dreaded “ball”. Two hours later, Satine was standing in the middle of what could only be described as a ballroom, trying to avoid the next dance. Her mother had gone all out with the decorations, the food, the entertainment. She barely recognized the room she and Max used to roller-skate around in when they thought their parents weren’t looking filled with so many beautifully dressed people. A live band played on a stage in the corner, a pretty good Frank Sinatra wanna be crooning away “Come Fly With Me”, and her earlier hope that rumors of her and Quinn would staunch the dancing requests was quickly laughable. Every single man, businessman, and friend of a second cousin’s lawyer wanted a dance with the young Miss Tierney. For the most part, they were good at feigning sincere interest in her. There were always those few who were obviously only invited because they would have caused more trouble than was worth otherwise, but Satine trusted her parents would not have invited anyone who would have truly destroyed her night. After all, as Dori had put it, it was her party. Satine let out a sardonic laugh at the thought, finding out soon enough that she was not as alone as she thought she was. “Something funny?” She turned to find a smartly dressed blond man standing behind her, leaning a shoulder against the wall, punch glass in hand. “Just taking in the view,” she answered, only half joking. He raised his glass with a hint of a smile. “Welcome to the club.” Satine turned back to watch the couples move about the dance floor, trying to study the man out of the corner of her eye. She tried to remember if she’d met him before. He lightly swished the ice in his glass before taking another sip, and when a young man with a silver tray walked by, the light from a nearby candle--yes, there were candles--flickered, reflecting off the metal and onto the stranger’s smooth skin. And stranger he was. Satine definitely hadn’t met him before. Even if she didn’t remember the sharp planes and angles of his face, she certainly would have remembered the paper thin scar just below his right eye. He must have sensed her attention, because he turned his gaze on her, smiling politely. “You’re Miss Tierney, am I correct?” “That’s the problem with these things,” she answered good-naturedly. “Everyone knows me, but I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea who most of them are.” “Well here’s to helping you level the field,” the man answered, pushing off the wall and holding out his hand. “Rider.” She shook his hand. He had a firm grip and an easy smile. “Rider?” “Rider it is.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Rider.” First or last name? “You too Miss Tierney.” “Please,” she said. “Call me Satine.” “Nice to meet you, Satine.” The young man from before returned with his silver tray now filled with miniature creampuffs. He spotted the couple, suddenly recognized Satine and grinned. “Creampuff?” “Oh no thanks, Peter, I really have eaten way too much tonight.” “Are you sure?” He teased the tray towards her, knowing how much she loved them. “You’re cruel, you know that?” “Yes I am, but you know you want one.” The longer she stared at it and the closer they got she did. Finally she sighed, and took one off the tray. “If I make myself sick later, I’m blaming you.” “Deal.” Peter turned to Rider. “Sir?” “No, thank you, I’m fine.” “Okay then. See you later, Satine.” “Later, Peter. And good work tonight.” Peter waved a hand at her as he hurried off and Satine chuckled. The kid had the most energy of anyone she knew. He’d probably begged her father to let him help run deserts around the party, despite the fact that he could have been out there on the dance floor as a guest. “Seems to like you,” Rider said, watching Peter walk off and taking another sip of his punch. “That kid has been hanging around here for as long as he could walk,” Satine answered, watching Kat swing out from her current dance partner and snatch a creampuff off Peter’s tray. “Like a lost puppy?” Rider asked, a highlight of amusement in his smooth voice. There was a hint of an accent in there too, but she couldn’t quite place it. Satine smiled. “Yeah, something like that.” The song ended, and as the dancers applauded, Rider finished off his drink. “Well Miss Satine,” he said taking her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” “You’re leaving?” He smiled. “Unlike young Peter over there, some of us need some sleep before another long day of work.” She wondered what that work entailed, but didn’t ask. Instead, she shook his hand, returning his smile. “Well, good luck with that then Mr. Rider.” He bowed, and Satine heard Kat call her name. She turned to spot her friend hurrying over, and when she looked back, Rider was gone. “What are you doing over here?” Kat asked, showing up with another creampuff in hand. “You should be out there.” “Oh no,” Satine said, quickly backing up before Kat could drag out into the mass of men looking for new dance partners. “I’ve had enough fun for one night.” “Oh come on, there’s got to be at least one man you haven’t danced with in here.” Kat searched the room and smirked. “Hey, how about Desmond?” “Yeah, right.” Satine followed Kat’s gaze over to the other side of the room, where Desmond was talking to Quinn. Not surprisingly, he didn’t look too happy. “What is his problem? Can’t the guy ever just let loose? Have some fun?”

Satine shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t like to dance.” Kat had a point though. Desmond did seem to be a little on edge lately. “Then again, dancing with a bruised rib might be a little much even for him.” “Right,” Kat answered. “Forgot about that.” She watched Dori call out to Quinn and Quinn glance over his shoulder as Desmond stared out at the dance floor, his gaze cold. “He’s doing a good job at hiding his injuries,” Kat said, finishing the creampuff. “But not so much at hiding his obvious dislike of Dori. Not that I blame him, the girl’s a little too peppy for anybody.” Satine had to laugh at that. “Well at least she’s enjoying the party.” They watched Dori make her way through the crowd to meet Quinn, all smiles and cleavage. Quinn greeted her with a dazzling smile and Desmond turned and faded back into the shadows, leaving the two more sociable people to talk. “That she is,” Kat muttered, turning to look for the nearest tray of food. “That she is.”

Chapter 19

It was the last dance of the night, and Satine found herself somehow paired with Desmond. Quinn, who had managed to drag her back out on the dance floor for the two previous dances in an effort to escape Dori, had asked her to dance with Desmond in hopes that it would get his mind off of something. Whatever that something was, Quinn didn’t elaborate. Eventually, she’d agreed, and now here they were. “How’s your side?” Satine asked, surprised at how well the man could dance and observe the room at the same time. Clearly his mind was still on that something that was bothering him. “Great,” he answered , clipped. “You know, I could just stand still and you could dance around me if that’s easier. You might get a better view of the room that way.” She knew she shouldn’t be so annoyed, but his preoccupation was starting to frustrate her. Desmond finally looked at her. “I apologize,” he said, not missing a step. “I did not mean to ignore you.” Really? Cuz you sure could have fooled me, she thought, but kept it to herself. In an apparent effort to prove that he had not meant to totally dismiss her the entire dance, Desmond suddenly swung her out, spun her around, then pulled her back, and dipped her. Caught off guard, Satine barely kept up, grabbing his shoulder when he righted her. Desmond’s pulled her close, steadying her with his own body, and raised a casual eyebrow, asking, “Is that better?” The music ended and Satine didn’t know what to say. He’d all but ignored her the entire dance. To suddenly, here at the end, throw her that loop? She could feel his hard body pressed against hers, and he gave no indication whatsoever of his previous injury. Well, at least he wasn’t lying about it being “great”. “And here you were avoiding the dance floor all night,” she finally said, pretty sure there would be more than a few women regretting his absence after that little show. He was surprisingly graceful and light on his feet. What else was he hiding?

As her mind wandered to his wound again, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d changed his dressing like he was supposed to. Had the liquid stitches held up? “Satine?” he asked quietly, suddenly making her jump. “Yes?” He nodded to the emptying dance floor. “I believe your obligation has been fulfilled.” He held her gaze a moment then stepped back to let her go. “You can tell Quinn he succeeded.” Before she could think of an answer, he was turning to thank her mother and father for a wonderful evening and asking if there was anything he could do to help clean up. Her parents assured him they had all the help they needed, and Satine watched him disappear once again back into the crowd. She had never met anyone so hard to read before in her life. One second he was all stone-faced and callus, the next a perfect gentlemen. So which one was the real Desmond? And, she thought as she watched him head for the door, where was he going in such a hurry?

Chapter 20

“Satine! Satine!” She was awakened by a furious knocking, and jumped up and out of bed, nearly passing out as she got up too fast from a dead sleep to try to open the door. “Kat?” She blinked at the hallway light. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?” Kat was dressed in sweats and a hoodie, her hair hastily thrown into a ponytail. She was wearing her glasses and still trying to pull on shoes as she spoke. “There’s been an accident.” “What?” Now more awake, Satine rubbed her eyes and glanced at her bedside clock: 2:00 AM. “What happened?” she asked again, quickly searching for some warmer clothes. She flipped on a lamp, pulling the nearest sweatshirt from her closet. She pulled it over her head before she realized it was the same one Kat was wearing, the ones they’d bought the first day it snowed at college. Oh well, it didn’t matter. They could match for a few hours. Kat bounced around on one foot as she finished tying her sneaker and said a hasty, “I don’t know. They just said it was bad.” “What’s bad?” Satine dug through her drawers for some socks. Unlike Kat, she couldn’t stand wearing sneakers without them. Finally dressed, Kat let out an exasperated breath and answered, “The car wreck!” as if Satine should have known this all along. Satine’s heart froze. Bad. This was very bad. Nobody woke up the whole household for a fender-bender. Someone was seriously hurt. Her mind whirred through her family members. Surely her mom and dad weren’t out driving at this late an hour. Max? After tonight’s festivities even he looked tired, had said he was going straight to bed. She could think of no reason he would be out, but then again it was Max. Unpredictable should have been her brother’s middle name. The two girls had just stepped off the last stair into the foyer when the front door opened.

“Max?” Satine approached her haggard-looking brother, an odd mix of relief and fear tightening her throat. He looked like he’d just been dragged out of bed too. Max met her gaze, his expression grim. For a long moment he didn’t say anything, then finally he rasped, “She’s dead.” The world spun dangerously off-kilter, and Satine staggered towards a nearby table to steady herself. Her mother was dead? But how? And what in the world was she doing driving around at two o’clock in the morning? Through her shock, she didn’t realize she was crying, or that more people had joined them until someone laid a hand on her shoulder. “Satine, I’m sorry.” She looked up. It was Quinn. “I had no idea you were so close to her,” he said softly, and a flurry of anger seared through her. “Close to her? Of course I was close to her, she was my mother!” She shook off his hand and took a step back. Her tears continued to fall, but she defiantly refused to run away or try and hide them. What kind of daughter wouldn’t cry for the death of her mother? Quinn, who looked surprisingly good for having been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, gave Max a confused look. “Her mother?” “Oh, no!” Max rushed forward, realizing his mistake. “Polo, I didn’t mean mom. It’s Dori. Dori was in a car accident on her way home, I--“ he cursed softly under his breath, pulling her into a hug. “Satine I’m sorry, I didn’t think when I said it. I thought you knew.” Still reeling from the thought that her mother had just been killed, Satine pulled back, more confused than ever. She wiped at her tears, focusing on her brother’s face. “Dori?” “Yeah,” Max answered, still holding onto her shoulders as if he was afraid she might break down again. “Mom’s fine.“ He turned as their parents entered the room. “She’s right here.” Suddenly feeling like a little girl again, Satine ran over to her mother, hugging her tighter than she’d ever hugged anyone in her life. “Satine?” Vivian asked, surprised at her daughter’s sudden outburst of emotion. “What is it darling? What’s wrong?” She held on a moment longer just to convince herself that her flesh and blood, very much alive, mom was really standing in front of her, okay, and then backed up, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, I just--I thought--“ She swallowed hard, regaining control. Her mother, sensing the misunderstanding, smiled and cupped her cheek. Satine silently thanked her for not pressing the issue. “Do we know how it happened?” her father asked, addressing the rest of the room. “Someone ran them off the road.” Vivian and Kat both gasped and everyone looked up as Desmond appeared in the doorway, clothes covered in blood. Satine’s heart dropped. “Goodness, that’s a lot of blood!” her mother said, voicing everyone’s opinion as she rushed towards him. “Matthew, get the first aid kit.” To Desmond, she asked, “Are you alright, dear?” “I’m fine, Mrs. Tierney.” He tried to stop her, but there are some things a mother can get away with that no one else can. Satine watched her mom immediately begin checking Desmond over for injuries, taking his coat and handing it over to Satine before he could stop her. She was already unbuttoning his

shirt by the time he managed to take her hand, gently stopping her with a reassuring, “Really, it’s okay, I’m fine Mrs. Tierney.” He patted her hand. “This isn’t my blood.” Force of habit, her mom checked his forehead, and Satine hid a smile. Once a mom, always a mom. Vivian frowned, but stepped back, keeping a close eye on him for the rest of the conversation. As her mother moved away from Desmond, Satine got a quick peek at his side and almost did a double-take. Not only was he not wearing any sort of bandage, the man didn’t have a scratch on him! Impossible, I must have just missed it. Still, she was positive that was the side he’d been injured on. And if she wasn’t mistaken, not only had his cut been healed, but so had his ribs. Before she could think about it anymore, Kat suddenly said, “Them.” She joined them as everyone moved in from the door, which was finally shut. “You said ‘someone ran them off the road’.” She shot Satine a troubled look then asked, “Who else was with her?”

Chapter 21

Twenty minutes later, Satine still couldn’t believe it. Her mother had led them all into the library, sending Max to go get Desmond a clean shirt, who in turn was told by Desmond not to worry about it. He’d stood next to her father’s desk, refusing to get any of their furniture bloody, as he told them that Peter had been the one in the car with Dori. No. Shock and dread made her whole body numb. Peter, sweet, innocent Peter, couldn’t be dead. She held her breath waiting for Desmond to relay the awful news. Instead, he’d assured them all that Peter was going to be okay. He didn’t go into the details, or explain how he had ended up at the wreck site, only told them that the boy was at the hospital already and that his doctors had said he was going to make it. “What was he doing with Dori?” Satine mumbled to no one in particular. “It’s my fault.” It was Quinn who answered. For the first time, Satine saw his cool exterior slip as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. So it wasn’t gelled up with concrete after all. “He asked if I minded if he caught a ride back with her,” Quinn continued. “I said that I didn’t, and he left. Poor kid, seemed so excited to go with her.” Satine knew she should probably be wondering why Peter would ask Quinn’s permission, seeing as how he was supposed to be engaged to her, but she wasn’t. Anyone at the party would have had to be blind not to see how much Dori had been after Quinn. Picturing the young laughing face brought a hallow pain to Satine’s insides. Dori would never laugh again. Satine had sat in silence for the rest of the conversation, too numb to think much of anything. She vaguely registered the fact that other people were talking, and then leaving to go back to bed. There was nothing more they could do. She heard her dad thank Desmond and Quinn and walk out with her mom, who was dabbing lightly at her eyes. Kat too, excused herself, followed soon by Quinn, who offered his condolences to Satine once again for endangering her friend. Satine assured him it wasn’t his fault, still feeling like she was drifting through a bad dream.

“Polo? You gonna be okay?” Max asked, stopping by her side on the way out. “Huh? Sorry, yes.” She finally snapped out of it and looked at her brother. He looked beat. For the first time she noticed he had blood on his shirt too. Granted, not nearly as much as Desmond, but still… She nodded to the blood. “Are you?” He smiled wearily. “You know me.” She wished her brother goodnight, then turned back to stare at the empty fireplace. Outside, the night was calm. Quiet. How could someone die on such a perfect night? As she continued to stare out the bay window, the shock began to wear off. Tears pricked her eyes. Dori was so young, so full of life. Something moved to her right. Whipping around, Satine found Desmond with his coat in his hand. “Sorry,” he said, holding out a hand to stop her from getting up. He walked past the soft glow of the lamp, raising his jacket. “I didn’t want your mother to feel she needed to have this washed.” She nodded, blinking quickly and hoping he hadn’t seen her tears. After her breakdown in the foyer, they all must think she was a big crybaby. The last person she wanted thinking that of her, was Desmond Décar. She doubted he’d ever shed a tear in his life. She turned back to stare out the window, expecting him to leave any second. Instead, he walked closer, placing his hands on the back of the chair opposite her. She ignored him, wishing he’d just leave already. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, and for some reason this brought on a fresh wave of tears. No, she was not alright, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “I’m fine.” She was lying. To him, to herself. Two people had just been hurt, one of them killed, because they’d come to a ridiculous party thrown in her honor. She was so far from fine there wasn’t a word for it. “This isn’t your fault,” Desmond said, sensing her guilt. “And you are not fine.” She was so not in the mood for an argument. She wearily turned to face him. One look at his face and her irritation was gone. He wasn’t looking for a fight, he was simply stating the obvious. “But you will be.” Such a bewildering man. Was he actually trying to comfort her? Before she could answer him, Desmond bid her goodnight, took his coat, and left.

Chapter 22

She woke up to soft voices and the clink of cutlery. The sun shone brightly through the big bay window and sitting up, Satine squinted, rolling the kinks out of her neck. She was still in the library. Surprised she had fallen asleep in the chair, she rubbed her eyes, finding someone had placed a blanket over her in the night. She glanced at the clock. It was already 10:13. Why had no one waken her up?

Running a quick hand through her hair and hoping she looked at least mildly presentable, Satine headed towards the smell of pancakes and bacon. She was quickly awarded smiles all around and a “well there’s our sleepyhead,” from her mother. “Sorry I slept so late,” she said, sitting down at the table, where a plate was quickly placed in front of her. She’d had her fair share of nightmares during the night, and the light of day helped to brush back the tragedy of the night before. Though she was still sad from the news of Dori’s death, she knew there was nothing else that could be done. It would take a long time to work through the guilt, but Desmond was right. Eventually, she would be okay. “No rush, we all had a long night,” her father answered, putting down the newspaper he was reading and pouring her a glass of orange juice. Satine thanked him and began scooping pancakes and eggs onto her plate. She glanced around at the empty chairs, noted the one empty place setting, and asked, “Am I the last one up? Or did someone decide to skip breakfast?” “We haven’t seen Kat yet this morning,” her mother said, picking up her favorite coffee cup, the Mother’s Day one Max and Satine had made for her when they were just four and five. As adults, they’d told her time and time again that she could get rid of it, but she just insisted that she could never part with it. It was her favorite mug for the very reason that they'd made it for her. Satine took a bite of pancake and frowned. Kat sleeping in? That was almost as crazy as Kat missing breakfast. She finished her meal quickly, learning that Max had taken Quinn, who was still feeling extremely bad about the accident, to the hospital to see Peter, and that Desmond was out on the deck. Deciding she’d go check to see if Kat was indeed still sound asleep, Satine thanked her parents for keeping breakfast warm for her and headed upstairs. When she finally got to Kat’s room, she knocked three times before trying the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand, and she peeked her head in. “Kat? You in there?” When she got no answer, she checked the bed. Nope, no Kat. A glance at the empty bathroom told her she wasn’t taking a shower either. Deciding Kat must have gone for a run, something she often did to let off some steam, or in this case the emotional aftermath of last night’s accident, Satine decided to go back to her own room. It felt good to shower and change out of her hastily layered clothes from last night. When she returned downstairs, her parents were gone and the table had been mostly cleared. They left more than enough behind, warming in case Kat should decide she wanted brunch. Satine grabbed an orange off a bowl of fruit and went out on the deck, hoping to spot Kat on her way back from her run. Instead, she found Desmond standing at the railing, staring out at the wooded landscape. She stopped halfway out the door, considering turning around before he saw her, but just when she’d decided to leave him alone with his thoughts, he said, “This really is a lovely estate.” If only she’d been a second faster. Oh well, no avoiding him now. “Thank you,” she answered, joining him. It was just her luck that of all the people here, she would run into Desmond. “I’ve always been pretty fond of it.” Desmond still hadn’t looked at her, continuing to stare out at the scenery. Satine studied the orange absently, turning it in her hands and wondering if she shouldn’t just head back inside and wait for Kat there. It’s not like the place wasn’t big enough for the both of them. Surely she could find something to do to avoid the man now standing next to her.

“She went for a run, you know.” “What?” “Kat,” he said, finally turning his gaze on her. “That is why you came out here, right? To look for your friend?” He said it so matter-of-factly, his face perfectly calm, that, for some reason or another, it annoyed her. And why was he looking at her like that? It made her feel…what was the word for it? Scrutinized. Yes, that was it. He made her feel like he was simultaneously bored out of his mind, yet staring straight into her soul. How did he do that? “Yes,” she finally said. “I figured she’d gone out for a run, but I’m surprised she skipped breakfast.” He went back to looking out towards the lake. “I think she was more affected by last night than she was willing to admit.” He paused then softly added, “Even to herself.” Was that directed at her too? Was he thinking of how she’d so easily fallen apart? Maybe she should head back inside and wait for Kat there. She’d just worked up the nerve to excuse herself when Desmond suddenly told her he was just about to take a walk around the grounds too. “Would you like to join me?” She wanted to say no, but could think of no good reason not to. “Sure, why not?” she said. “Maybe we’ll run into Kat on her way back.” Just in case, Satine grabbed an apple from inside to go with her orange. Knowing Kat, she’d be starving once she found out what time it was.

Chapter 23

She’d opted for a t-shirt and jeans, and was thankful for the shade of the clouds. Yesterday’s heat was replaced by a cool breeze and a general high of 75, unusually nice for this time of year. Satine took in a long breath, welcoming the smell of fresh air, and trying to remember the last time she’d been on a walk that didn’t involve honking cars or bustling pedestrians. It was nice. They passed the last guesthouse and it was becoming clear that Desmond could probably finish the entire trip without saying a word. He seemed perfectly content to walk in silence, lost in his own thoughts. Satine, on the other hand, was having a tough time ignoring hers, and after staring up at the clouds and observing the latest new equipment her father had added to the staff’s kids’ playground, she started to fidget. The silence was pressing on her unease. As they moved onto the gravel pathway amongst the trees, getting further from the house or any hope of possibly running into someone who might otherwise engage her in conversation, Satine finally said, “I’m surprised you didn’t go with Max and Quinn to the hospital.” “I’m pretty sure I’m the last person Peter would want to see right now.” There was no bitterness or sarcasm in his voice, it was, as usual, just a statement. He continued to stare on ahead as they walked down the path. Somewhere overhead two birds chirped a quick, albeit enthusiastic, conversation.

“I never got a chance to ask what happened,” Satine said, turning to look at the man next to her. He was dressed casually, thankfully no blood today, and looked as good as he had last night all dressed up for the ball. The ball. The accident. She quickly shook her head. She had to stop thinking about it or she’d go crazy. They continued to walk. After a long moment, Desmond answered, “They were run off the road. By the time we got to them…it was too late for Dori.” A lump formed in her throat, but Satine kept quiet. A grasshopper leapt across the pathway while she waited for Desmond to continue. Still staring straight ahead, Desmond said, “The car ended up in the ditch on the other side of the road. Quinn kept Peter away as I tended to Dori…” His voice trailed off as he stopped to let a squirrel scurry past and into the trees. Resuming their walk he also continued his story, “She was covered in blood, her lung collapsed from a piece of glass that had sliced past her ribs before being yanked out by the window as she was thrown from the car. She was barely conscious and the boy kept screaming something about her head.” He paused. “Her head was the least of her problems.” Satine swallowed hard, understanding now why he didn’t go to the hospital. “Peter can’t possibly blame you for Dori’s death. You were trying to save her.” “It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t.” He was still as stoic as before, as if merely recounting an unfortunate incident read in the paper, but there was a tinge of bitterness in his voice. Satine thought of all the blood he’d been covered in when she’d seen him after the accident, and knew the anger wasn’t directed at Peter, but at himself. He hadn’t been able to save Dori and, try as he might to hide it, Satine was pretty sure Desmond was feeling guilty for it. He stopped walking. “What’s wrong?” “What is that?” She looked up and squinted at the object. It was lying on his side of the pathway, half buried by a crimson red Burning Bush. It was the halfway mark in the pathway on the way to the lake. Had they really walked that far already? “It’s a shoe,” Satine answered, bending to pick it up. She frowned, turning it in her hand for a closer look. “A very familiar shoe, actually.” “Yours?” “No.” She stood up to face him. “Kat’s.”

Chapter 24

“There’s something…” Satine began reaching for the piece of paper tucked inside the shoe. In a move so fast she hardly saw it, Desmond whisked it out of her hand, threw the shoe into the trees and shoved her in the opposite direction. She landed just off the pathway with a loud “Umpf!” and Desmond on top of her as a brilliant flash exploded. It was followed immediately

by the loudest POP! Satine had ever heard in her life. A wall of pressure flew over them, and she thought her head was going to explode. Suddenly, as fast as it at happened, it was over. Desmond jumped to his feet, pulling her with him. “Are you okay?” “Am I okay?” She shot him an exasperated look. “I don’t even--What was that?” “Are you okay?” he asked again, more forcibly. He was gripping her shoulders and staring at her with an intensity that rivaled the pressure she’d just been bowled over with. Her ears still ringing, Satine answered, “Yes, but--“ “We have to go.” He was dragging her down the pathway back towards the house before she had a chance to say otherwise. “Whoa, wait! What just--hey, hold on a second!” She had to run to keep up with him. Why was he dragging her by the hand like she was some little kid who’d start digging her heels in the second she found out where they were going? Which, by the way, was exactly her next question. “Go where?” The man had a grip like an iron vice! “There’s no time to explain,” he answered, not even the slightest bit out of breath. Satine continued to struggle after him. It was not only hard to keep up with his quick stride, but also to breathe. Here she felt like she was running a marathon, and Desmond had yet to break a sweat. His expression remained neutral as he continued to drag her past the house and towards the garages. It wasn’t until they were standing looking at a line of highly expensive shiny vehicles that Satine finally managed to gain her footing, and her arm, back. Rubbing her wrist, she glanced around the impeccably clean garage, one of her father’s pride and joy hobbies, and said, “Desmond, seriously, what’s going on?” He ignored, her, walking down the first line of townhouse and everyday family cars. Whereas most men were automatically distracted and awed by the many rows of highly sought and classic vehicles parked in the rest of the garage, Desmond didn’t spare them a second glance. He walked swiftly with a singular purpose that could only mean one thing. He’d been here before and knew exactly where he was going. The sound of an automatic unlock had Satine rushing after him. No way was he leaving before he explained a few things. Not the least of which was how he’d known Kat’s shoe was about to explode. Kat…Don’t think about it, she’s fine. She’s probably just waiting back at the house even now. Sure, a little voice in the back of head spat back sarcastically, because things have been going so well so far! “Desmond, I--“ She stopped short when she saw the car of which he was opening the passenger side door. “That’s your car?” “One of them, yes. Now will you please get in?” Satine couldn’t deny the draw of the masterpiece of craftsmanship and power before her. She’d spent most of her life around cars of all kind. Since her father was a collector and her brother loved pretty much anything on wheels, she had spent a lot of her childhood wandering around garages like this one. Still, she had never quite seen anything like the car now in front of her. “What is she?” she asked, unable to stop from running her hand over the sleek black curves. Despite the warmth of the day, it was cool to the touch.

“Technically? It’s still a concept,” Desmond said, sounding irritated. “Now get in. We really don’t have time to be discussing engine power or heated seating.” Satine blinked out of her sports car admiring and was about to ask where they were going again, but found herself being snapped into her seatbelt before she got the chance. She stared in frustration at the closed door. How did he do that? Desmond slid behind the wheel, closing his door, buckling his seatbelt, and starting the car all in one fluid motion. They were backing out and zooming down the driveway before she could ask, “Are you really just going to ignore that flash--bomb--whatever it was, and just hope I don’t bring it up?” “I was hoping to get at least past the gate before you did.” “Well--“ the open gate zoomed by in black whir, and she was pretty sure she saw him smirk. “There you go,” she amended. “Now would you like to explain?” Even before she was done talking, he was pressing a button on the steering wheel and saying, “Call Quinn.” A screen on the dashboard lit up and a woman’s voice responded, “Calling, Quinn.” She opened her mouth and he cut her off, “I’ll explain as much as I can in a minute, but right now--“ “Des?” Quinn picked up, his voice filling the car with such clarity he might as well have been sitting on the seat between them. “What’s up?” “We have a problem.” “What kind of problem?” Quinn still didn’t sound particularly worried. Satine grabbed the door handle as Desmond took the winding road at vision blurring speed. She checked her seatbelt to make sure it was steadfastly in place. It was. “A big problem,” Desmond answered Quinn, turning the wheel around another bend. “Kat’s missing.” There was a pause then Quinn asked, “Where are you now?” “We’re headed to you.” “We?” “Satine’s with me.” He glanced at her then back at the road. “So…” “Just tell him what he needs to know. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.” Desmond ended the call. Satine closed her eyes. Don’t look outside. The last thing she needed was to throw up, especially on this interior. Satine forced her eyes to the driver, not the road, and despite their ridiculous speed and alarming predicament, Desmond was as calm as ever. They might as well be taking a leisurely Sunday drive. Sure, if the Indy 500 counted as a leisurely Sunday drive. His passiveness irked her for some reason, and once again Satine tried to get some answers. “So when comes the ‘tell her what she needs to know’ part?” she asked, feeling her insides plunge to the right and back as they took another turn. Since when had this road been so curvy? She’d driven it a million times, yet never had she feared her life on it before. Well, maybe once during a really bad blizzard, but still, this was madness! Unlike Satine, Desmond didn’t find the constant turns or occasional bouts of gravel a problem at all. How he could even register which way to turn the wheel and when at this speed, she had no idea, but he was doing a fine job at it. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was enjoying it all a little bit too much.

He glanced at her, and she wanted to shout, “Not me, the road!” but couldn’t get it out past the fear caught in her throat. He must have seen it in her eyes though, because he right the wheel and slowed to a slightly less hectic 90 mph. “I’m afraid your friend has been taken.” “Taken? Taken by who?” “That I am not sure of, but trust me, we will do everything we can to get her back.” Trust him? She hardly knew him! “Okay, skipping over who kidnapped her for now, why--lookout!” Satine shouted, digging in her heels and cringing as a rabbit shot across the road. Without losing speed, Desmond swerved around it as if he’d known it was there all along, and continued on. Satine just stared at him. Men. “I’m not positive why,” he answered as they shot over a hill and back down the other side in one fluid motion. For a second there she was sure the car had sprouted wings. Now that would be some concept. “But you have a pretty good idea,” she said as her breakfast threatened to make a break for the outside world. “I believe Kat was taken to get to you,” Desmond finally answered, and Satine was so surprised she momentarily forgot she was hanging onto the door handle for dear life. “Me? But why would anyone need to get to me so badly that they’d kidnap my best friend? Why not just come to me directly?” A car suddenly appeared in the opposite direction. She hoped it wasn’t a cop. Or maybe that it was, so then she could finally feel solid ground under her feet again. “I think they tried that already,” Desmond said, and before she could ask what he meant, they were suddenly spinning. Satine grabbed hold of her old friend the door handle again, and braced herself on the dashboard, squeezing her eyes shut and praying this wouldn’t be the end of her sad little life. The world spun wildly around in a flash of color and light, mixing with unwanted memories of blood-soaked clothing and horrible car crashes, then suddenly just stopped. “You can open your eyes now,” Desmond said, putting the car in park. “We’re here.”

Chapter 25

“Here” apparently meant a gravel pit stop in the middle of nowhere. It was a place she’d seen a few tourists stopping to take pictures of the beautiful scenery every now and then, or people sitting in cars, lounging against open doors awaiting a pickup or carpool from any of the neighboring towns, but this was the first time she’d ever stopped here herself. It would have been quaint, relaxing almost, if not for the fact that Max and Quinn were already pulling in and jumping out of the car, anxious looks on their faces. Desmond stepped out to join them, leaving the car running, and Satine struggled a moment with her seatbelt before following. Resisting the urge to fall to her knees and thank the good Lord that there was solid ground beneath her feet again, she turned instead to her brother. If anyone was going to tell her the truth, it’d be him.

“Max, what’s going on?” “Are you okay?” he asked instead, glancing between her and Desmond. “I’m fine, but why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” Once again, her brother cast Desmond and Quinn an unsure look then said, “We don’t have time to explain it all, but you have to go with them.” She gaped at him. Even her own brother wouldn’t tell her? “I’m not going anywhere until somebody tells me where I’m going and why everyone is acting like we’re running for our lives!” She rushed on, “Where’s Kat? And what was that weird popping noise in her shoe?” Nobody answered her. Max and Quinn, looking a little uneasy, shifted their gazes to the ground. “Satine trust us.” It was Desmond that finally spoke. “We will explain everything as soon as we can, but right now we must go. Time is short.” Finding it all infuriatingly frustrating, she wanted to yell, “For what?!” but turned to her brother. “Max--“ “He’s right,” he interrupted, having regaining his confidence. Taking a step towards her, he said, “Satine, you know I would never let anybody hurt you, so just trust me on this, okay? You have to go with them.” “But--” “We should go,” Quinn interrupted, looking up from his watch. She’d never seen such a serious look on his face before. “Now.” “I--” Her words were lost as she was ushered back to Desmond’s car, and Satine got the horrible feeling that she wouldn’t be seeing her brother or the rest of her family for a while. “Max--“ she struggled to see past Quinn and Desmond as they herded her towards the car. When she got a glimpse of him glancing over his shoulder on his way back to his own vehicle, a flare of panic had her shouting, “Max!” She could have sworn a torn look of anguish passed his face before settling into a comforting smile. “It’ll all be okay, Polo, trust me! Just be careful, I’ll see you soon!” It was the last she heard from her brother because Quinn was already closing her door and climbing in the back as Desmond got behind the wheel. This was not happening, it couldn’t be! Was she being kidnapped, like Kat? Max wouldn’t do that to her, but she knew next to nothing about Quinn and-“Put on your seatbelt,” Desmond said quietly as he shifted into drive. She was about to argue when he added, “And we’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Chapter 26

The drive out of town was much less hectic, and Satine soon found out that the seats could be quite comfortable once you weren’t hanging on for dear life in them. She also found out that what she’d been demanding to know was quickly something she wished she could forget. As soon as they had pulled back onto the road, Desmond and Quinn held a brief conversation, one riddled with unspoken meanings and all of which Satine could not figure out.

Quinn pulled out his phone and begun making calls. He spoke too softly for her to listen, and when Desmond started talking, she stopped trying to. “How much do you know about Montauk Alastair?” It wasn't at all what she’d been expecting, and it took a moment for her to answer, “How do you know Alastair?” “You know about the feud.” It wasn’t a question, and Desmond continued to navigate the winding roads as he said, “But did your father tell you that they--he and Alastair--used to be friends? Best friends in fact.” She knew they’d had a falling out sometime after their first year of college, but other than that Satine didn’t know much about her father’s relationship with a man she’d grown to hate. Were there more than simple financial and business rivalries going on there? It was starting to sound like it. “I knew they went to school together,” she said, watching his fingers fly over the buttons on the wheel as he set the cruise control, radio, and air conditioning without so much as a quick glance down to check his speed. She’d never been so happy to see a straight road. “But other than that,” she added, “and the fact that he’s been trying to steal from my dad’s company for as long as I can remember, I guess I don’t know much.” Desmond was silent, no doubt debating just how much she needed to know at the moment. “All of it,” she helped him out. “Start at the beginning.” “The very beginning?” “Only if you want to save yourself from starting over again.” The softening of his usual dramatic countenance with a smirk had her asking, “What?“ “Nothing.” He shook his head, and she relaxed. “Alright, beginning it is.” As they coasted down the highway to who knows where, Desmond proceeded to tell her the rest of the ‘I went to school with Alastair’ story she’d heard from her dad. It was the most she’d ever heard Desmond speak, and behind the wheel of the car, he finally seemed to relax into a normal person. “After high school, the summer before he went off to college, your dad took a trip to Europe.” She knew of her father’s tour through Europe and visit to Oxford, but she let him continue, anxious to see what more he knew about it. Desmond told her of her father’s meeting up with Montauk Alastair at Oxford. The two bright young boys were looking into the same schools for the same reasons, and became immediate friends. That summer, they spent the entire three and a half months backpacking through Europe, exchanging ideas, academic and otherwise, and eventually both decided that their interests would best be served in the states. At least to begin with. In college, Montauk and Matthew were inseparable and unbeatable. Both intelligent and good-natured, they’d shared a love of exploring and inventing. Their curiosity went way beyond that of the classroom, beyond the let’s-mix-this-with-that-and-see-what-happens in chemistry. Theirs was a talent that could only be described as ingenious. By the end of their freshman year, it was clear to both their teachers and parents that the two young men were on their way to real greatness. Together, they’d won every prestigious science and engineering award academic undergrad allowed. Things were only looking up. “And then she moved to town,” Desmond said, and Satine sensed the up became a slippery downward slope for the two best friends. “My mother.”

Desmond gave one nod. “It’s the classic, boy meets girl, girl meets boy, boy’s best friend doesn’t like being thrown the third wheel.” “You’re saying Alastair was jealous.” “It was more than that. He loved, or at least thought he loved, your mother.” Satine’s eyes widened in horror. “Don’t worry,” Desmond said with a slightly amused look. “Your mother loved your father, still loves him, through and through.” She had no idea how this man would know how much her mother loved her father, but for now there were more important things to worry about, and starting to get a bad feeling about all of this, Satine said, “But Alastair wouldn’t except it.” “It didn’t take long for him to realize your mother was never going to choose him over your father. Long story short, by the time they’d all graduated, the former best friends hadn’t spoken to each other in over two years.” “But what does any of that have to do with now?” Satine asked. “With me?” “Although they’d been friends, they’d been competitive from the get-go. Are you too warm?” Desmond asked in the same breath, reaching for the air controls. “What? Oh no, I’m fine, thanks.” She realized she must have looked flushed and forced herself to relax. This was past history, she was fine. Yeah, past history that has you on an impromptu road trip with two Englishmen you hardly know, a little voice in the back of her head argued. She ignored it and turned her full attention back to Desmond. “Go on.” “The two men went their separate ways,” he said. “Both graduating top of their class in grad school and beyond. Both on their way to becoming brilliant scientists and businessmen in the real world.” “So…what finally brought them back together again?” Desmond met her gaze. “You.”

Chapter 27

“Oh no.” Her mouth went dry. “This isn’t the part where you reveal the awful truth that Alastair’s my true father or something like that, is it? Please tell me it’s not.” “Oh mostly definitely not,” he said quickly, and she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in a very relieved whoosh. “Sorry to have scared you.” “No don’t worry, as long as it’s not that, I’m totally fine.” Gathering herself together, she decided a little air might do her some good after all and leaned forward to adjust her vents. “Please,” she said, reaching for the correct knob. “Continue.” He didn’t comment on her sudden change of mind and went on. “After your mother and father were married, Alastair’s company stocks plummeted. Call it heartbreak, disappointment, or simple fury at not always winning, but the man who hadn’t spoken to your father in years suddenly called up wanting to get together again.”

Knowing her kind-hearted mother, Satine wasn’t surprised when Desmond told her she’d talked her dad into finally trying to mend things up with his old friend. “But your father was right to distrust Alastair,” Desmond said, removing the cruise control as they came upon a semi pulling off the road to help out a fellow stranded truck driver. Her father didn’t trusted Alastair even then. Satine swallowed hard, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach as Desmond told her how her mother had welcomed Alastair into their home, how he had been nothing but pleasant in trying to make up for lost time, and how he’d even seemed truly happy for them after the birth of their son. For a year and a half it was almost like old times again. “And then two things happened,” Desmond said, resetting the cruise. “Your dad won his first Nobel Prize--“ “And I was born,” Satine finished, recalling the way her brother used to tease her that, had it not been for that award, she might not have been born, seeing as how she arrived nearly nine months to the day after her father’s celebration ceremony. If she hadn’t been born two weeks premature, it would have been right on target. “The prize, which Alastair had also been up for that year, was the last straw. It quickly became evident that the only reason he’d shown up again was to spy on your father’s research, and possibly try to win over your mother. When it became obvious he would succeed in neither, Alastair disappeared.” Quinn, who Satine had almost forgotten about until now, suddenly leaned forward and said, “They’re ready,” before settling comfortably back in his seat and turning to look out the window as he dropped his phone back into his pocket. Satine wondered if he’d been paying attention to their conversation. Then again, maybe he already knew the story. “Alastair showed up again seven months later, but it was too late. Your father refused to see him again and…” Desmond paused, gaze flicking to the rearview mirror. “Well, that’s where things get messy.”

Chapter 28

Before she could ask, “Messy how?”, they were pulling onto another road, one which Satine recognized. “The airport?” “You’re not afraid of flying are you?” Quinn asked, leaning forward again with a grin. He slapped a hand on Desmond’s shoulder and said, “Because Des here hates it unless he’s the one behind the controls.” “You’re a pilot?” Should she really be surprised? “Only when I have to be.” “Why does a man who hates flying get a pilot’s license?” “He’d rather be up front crashing the plane himself then sitting in the back screaming like a helpless baby with the rest of us,” Quinn teased and Desmond shot his friend a dark look. “You just keep telling yourself that Quinn,” he said as Quinn laughed. “I’m sure one of these days the FAA will come around and forget that little Mayan Stint of yours, no problem.”

“Mayan stint?” Satine raised an eyebrow, but neither of them elaborated, pledging it a different story for a different time. Desmond pulled the car up to a private hanger at the small local airport and a man hurried out to meet them. “Hey there, Benny,” he said, shifting the car into park and opening the door. “She ready?” “All set there for ya, Des,” Benny answered in a slight Minnesotan accent. He was a pleasant looking man, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, with unruly white Einstein-like hair, and an infectious smile. He looked like he’d worked around machines all his life, and despite his grease covered overalls, his hands were spotless as he took the keys from Desmond and said to Satine, “Don’t worry young lady, the overalls come off before I get behind the wheel.” “Oh I didn’t--“ Satine started to answer but Benny laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s what I tell all my customers.” He winked at her and tossed Quinn another set of keys. “Take it you’ll show in--“ “Satine,” she offered. “Satine.“ He nodded toward her with a grin. “While ol’ Des here does the usual?” Quinn laughed and from the look on Desmond’s face, Satine had a feeling she was missing something. “It’s not that I don’t trust your inspections implicitly--“ “Oh go on, go on,” Benny interrupted Desmond, waving them forward. He unzipped his overalls to reveal grease free jeans and a t-shirt below. “Get outta here already.” Desmond’s expression warmed and he just shook his head ruefully. “Thanks for getting her ready Benny, I owe you.” “And I’ll hold ya to it!” They were halfway to the plane before they heard the engine gun and the car take off. Satine turned to see it heading the way they’d come. “You don’t park it here?” “He does,” Quinn answered. “Des just lets Benny have a little fun first. Don’t worry, he’ll be back before we take off.”

Chapter 29

“So is anyone going to tell me where we’re going, or am I just supposed to guess?” “To see some friends,” Quinn answered, propping his feet up on the table in front of his black leather heated seat. “Well, ‘friends’ might be too strong of a word, maybe ‘acquaintances’ is better.” “And these acquaintances,” she asked, stressing the word. “They know where Kat is?” At the mention of her friend’s name, Quinn sobered. “Trust me, they’re our best chance.” Trying to forget her own dislike of flying, Satine sat back in her seat in the row across from Quinn and stared out the window at the passing clouds. She’d been in private planes and jets before. Growing up with a father like hers it was to be expected, but this one was by far one of the nicest she’d ever seen--elegant, but not gaudy; comfortable and full of more high-tech

gadgets than she knew the names for--yet her usual curiosity for new surroundings waned in the presence of her worry for Kat. Something terrible had happened. Something a simple call to the police was not going to fix. Glancing towards the cockpit, Satine asked, “Guess I’m not going to get the rest of that story anytime soon, huh?” “If Des told you he would tell you the whole story, he will.” Quinn reached towards a minifridge and pulled out a bottle of water for her. She took it, grateful to have something to do with her hands. “That’s one thing about Des,” he added, taking out another bottle for himself. “His word is his life. Never gone back on a promise, that one.” Quinn sat back again and Satine took a moment to really look at him. He seemed relaxed, confident. It was clear Quinn meant what he said, which told her he and Desmond really were good friends, that the whole thing hadn’t been an act. Perhaps she’d been too quick to judge both of them. “You’ve known Desmond for a while, right?” “A very long time, yes. Why?” “Is he always so…?” She didn’t know how to put it, so Quinn supplied, “Distant? Silent? Brooding?” Satine laughed. “Yet he seems like a completely different person around you and Benny.” “He just takes a while to warm up to,” he answered with a grin. “But once you get to know him, you’ll want him around. Trust me.” “That have anything to do with the Mayan Stint?” Satine asked, raising an eyebrow as she took another drink. “Among other things.” Quinn leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to do the same. “I know you’re not tired, but you’re going to want to get as much sleep as you can now. Once we get there…well, just try to sleep now.” She wasn’t tired, but since she had no idea where they were going or how long it’d take to get there, and had nothing else to do besides sit there alone with her whirring thoughts, Satine decided to take Quinn’s advice. Finding the reclining lever, she picked up the ear phones Quinn pointed out to her and put them on. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Chapter 30

She awoke groggily in a room she’d never seen before in her life. Great. Just what she needed to convince her she wasn’t being kidnapped. Rubbing her eyes, Satine sat up on the king-sized four-poster bed to have a look around. The bedroom was big, tastefully decorated with an old Victorian feel, and empty. Of people, anyway. A bedside lamp cast a golden glow around the room, and although there were no windows to be sure, she felt like it was night.

She ran her gaze over the rich red and gold wallpaper to the large gas fireplace on her right. Small flames danced about, matching the color of the lamp, and the oriental rug covering most of the polished dark wooden floor looked like something her father would love. Aside from the bed, there was a small table, antique desk, two chairs, an antique vanity, and matching dresser. Atop the dresser was a glass vase with a single stunning blue flower in it. Satine had never seen anything like it before. She was just about to get up to go inspect it further, when the door opened. “Oh good, you’re awake.” Quinn entered the room with a steaming tray of food. Whatever it was it smelled great. He put the tray down and asked, “Tea?” She nodded absently, still trying to wake up then asked, “Did you drug me?” To his credit, he looked slightly ashamed as he finished pouring the tea and handed the cup to her. “Our hosts,” he said. “Are a little…paranoid about outsiders visiting.” Hosts? Outsiders? “Where are we?” she asked, climbing off the very comfortable bed to join him at the table, still irritated with the whole drugging thing. What kind of people drugged their guests before letting them inside? Her thoughts were sidetracked by the wide assortment of food awaiting her, and she picked up a bowl of fresh fruit, suddenly realizing how hungry she was. Okay, so she’d let the drugging thing go for a minute or two. Just long enough to eat, anyway. “We’re with those acquaintances we spoke of,” Quinn answered her question, handing her a cloth napkin. “Where’s Desmond?” “I’m sure he’ll be around once he’s through convincing everyone you’re not dangerous.” “Dangerous?” Satine swallowed some of the best cantaloupe she’d ever tasted and looked up. “Me?” “He shouldn’t be long.” He was avoiding the question. “Why would I be a threat?” “These people are very private,” Quinn answered, watching her eat. “It took half of our trip just to convince them to let us arrive.” Satine set down her fork. She was getting tired of waiting for explanations, had taken this all quite well if she did say so herself, and thought now was about time someone gave her a straight answer. “Quinn, what’s really going on here?” “You want to find Kat, these people will help.” “You said that already. What I want to know is who these people are and why I’m here.” Quinn was silent a moment, apparently lost in thought. Finally, he glanced at the door then sighed. “The people who took Kat,” he said in a low voice, keeping his eye on the door as if he expected them to appear any second. “They were after you.” Desmond had suggested as much, but Satine was still confused. Suddenly she wasn’t so hungry anymore. “But why me?” Before Quinn could answer, Desmond appeared at the door. He spared Satine a brief glance before asking Quinn, “Is she ready?” “As ready as she’s going to be.”

“She is right here,” Satine said, not enjoying being talked about like she wasn’t even in the room. “You can ask me yourself.” Desmond ignored her. “Good, let’s go.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Satine jumped to her feet, sending her nearly empty bowl spinning across the table. Quinn caught it before cantaloupe started flying. “I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what’s going on here!” Desmond didn’t even move, remaining at the door in silent non-answers. Guess it was too much to hope for, huh? “Even as we speak,” he finally said, facing her. “Your friend Kat may be in the hands of Montauk Alastair. If you want to find her, I suggest you get moving.” With that, he out the door. She didn’t know what to say. Frustrated that all of her answers just brought upon more questions, Satine turned to Quinn. “Satine, I’m sorry, but we really don’t have time right now.” He quickly ushered her toward the door. “I promise you, everything will be explained soon, but we have to go.” She had no time to argue, because she was suddenly herded into a long dim hallway that soon became a maze of other hallways with twists and turns that all looked the same. Desmond was walking so quickly she practically had to run to keep up. Well, she thought as she hurried after him, if they’re trying to make sure I can’t find my way back out, they’ve succeeded. She’d never been in a more confusing building in her life. Suddenly Desmond just stopped, abruptly, in front of a large intricately carved wooden door, and Satine would have ran smack dab into his back if Quinn hadn’t caught her arm and jerked her back at the last second. She didn’t know whether to thank him or glare at him. Frankly, she thought Desmond deserved a little unexpected bowling over after their lovely little trip so far. He reached up to knock softly against the wood, and Satine forced herself to remain calm. There was no telling who was on the other side of that door, and if she wanted to find Kat, there was no use in ruining her chances before they were offered. She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that was the case. Otherwise, this whole trip had been a massive waste of time. And if she knew one thing, it was that time was not something they had to waste.

Chapter 31

Once again, the room on the other side of the door was not what she was expecting. For one thing, it was empty. For another, it looked entirely made of mirrors. Aside from a giant painting of what looked like the billiard room from the game Clue covering the opposite wall, everything else was mirrors. Even the floor looked like a thick layer of glass set on top of a mirror. Two wall-mounted candles burned on either side of the painting, casting the room in a soft amber glow that flickered off the reflected surfaces, and Satine didn’t know what to say. She wanted to ask where they were, but something about this room gave her that hushed feeling of an old church or a library. This was not a room for socializing. Or skirt wearing, she amended as Desmond started across the glassy floor, and Satine watched his 360 degree reflection follow him the entire way. As usual, his face was completely blank. Hers, she knew

was not, and when Quinn nudged her lightly from behind, she took a step, surprised when her shoes made no noise on the clear surface. It was extremely disconcerting to watch so many reflected Satine's slide into the room with her, and almost impossible not to turn and study them. She and Quinn followed Desmond towards the painting, and Satine could almost feel the reflected eyes watching her as she went. All of them. Their gaze didn’t feel like Desmond or Quinn’s, or even her own, and Satine uncomfortably forced her eyes forward, focusing on the back of Desmond’s head. If he sensed her discomfort or her stare, he didn’t show it, instead moving forward until there was nowhere to go. He stopped about two feet in front of the painting, which from this distance Satine could see was oil, and waited for her and Quinn to join him. She shot a sideways glance at Quinn, but he too had voided his face of all expression. At a loss, Satine turned and faced the painting. It was lovely and all, but didn’t they have more important things to be doing other than-Suddenly one of the figures in the painting moved, and Satine jumped. “Did you--“ Desmond shot her a silencing look, and Satine shut up. Had she just imagined it? She’d thought she’d seen the longhaired young man holding the pool cue glance up and nod once slowly, but she could have been imaging things. After all, the room was full of moving candlelight, and the figures in the painting did look strikingly real. As she was trying to convince herself that she had indeed just imagined it, Desmond took a step forward and, to her complete astonishment, disappeared into the painting. Okay, now she had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating, or something, because people didn’t just waltz right into artwork. Satine was in the middle of telling herself to wake up, when she felt Quinn’s hand at her elbow. Before she could ask him what he was doing in her dream, she was moving forward. She was about to stop to avoid crashing into the painting, when, with a brush of amber that felt much like stepping through a warm waterfall, she was standing in a room that looked exactly like the one in the painting. It didn’t last long. A second after the realization, her knees were giving out, and she was falling towards the-now carpeted--floor into blackness.

Chapter 32

“I told you she wouldn’t last.” “Just give her a second.” “That’s about all it took.” A laugh. “Need I remind you what happened the first time you stepped through, Micah?” Another laugh, this time from someone else. She was hearing it all from a distance, as if through a hollow tunnel, and Satine groaned, feeling sick. She wished her brain would stop summersaulting against her skull.

“Satine?” Finally a voice she recognized. “Desmond?” A firm hand found her shoulder to keep her from sitting up too quickly as she opened her eyes. Something was shoved into her face and she grimaced. Whatever it was it smelled. “Here.” Desmond helped her hands find the goblet. “Drink this, you’ll feel better.” She didn’t want to drink it, but he wouldn’t take it away, and finally she opened her lips to the hot liquid. She nearly gagged on the extremely thick taste of herbs and spices, but managed to swallow it down before collapsing into a coughing fit. He made her finish the whole thing before he finally took the empty goblet--goblet?--away and handed it to the man from the painting. Wait a second… Her brain finally caught up to her eyes, and Satine shot up, way too fast. The room spun wildly out of control again. Someone caught her, and she took in a long steady breath. Okay. Good. Now open your eyes. When she did, she saw that she was lying on the pool table, the balls pushed hastily aside to make room for her. The eight ball was still rolling lazily around by her foot, and a long fingered hand reached out to pick it up. “Another one gone to the Fates,” a man said with a sigh, turning his gaze on her. It was the longhaired man she’d seen in the painting, now standing right in front of her in the flesh. In the painting, his hair had looked white, now she could see that it was just very blond. He was, however, still wearing the Victorian era clothing--complete with lace and form-fitting burgundy jacket--that somehow fit with the modernized billiard room. Another wave of dizziness swept over her and Satine swallowed hard. “No matter,” he said, frost-colored blue eyes scanning her head to toe before meeting her gaze again with a pleasant smile. “There will undoubtedly be more opportunities to show young Micah how the game is really played.” There was a scoffing noise and another man, who didn’t look that much younger than the one holding the eight ball, got up from a nearby chair. “You wish.” Unlike the first man, this one was dressed in modern day attire, dark jeans and a black t-shirt that hinted at the toned body underneath. His brown eyes matched his hair, which kind of reminded her of Max in its unruliness. Micah smiled and bowed towards her. “Micah Caractacus, hacker extraordinaire, and general pool master, at your service, miss.” For some reason his American accent comforted her and she smiled back. She would have shaken his hand if she could have managed the strength to move it from her side, but he seemed to understand this, so a smile worked just as well. “Allow me to introduce my associates,” Micah said happily, turning to the man who was still standing at the end of the pool table studying Satine with calm, curious eyes. “Calder Solaris,” Micah said, snatching the eight ball out of his hand. Solaris bowed graciously towards her and she had a feeling that if he’d been close enough he would have kissed her hand. Not out of some pompous show, but simply out of respect. “And Kenji Oshiro.” For the first time, Satine noticed the Japanese man standing silently behind Desmond, a pool cue resting between his elegant fingers. His long black hair was mostly pulled back, except for a few strands that framed his beautifully angled features. He was dressed all in black--black shoes, black slacks, black silk shirt--except for an elegant red dragon embroidered around the bottom of his perfectly tailored ankle-length black jacket. There were more intricate patterns rimming the

cuffs, and she thought they might be words, but she didn’t speak Japanese and wasn’t close enough to tell anyway. Kenji smiled warmly at her and moved the cue to the crook of his elbow so he could place his hands together in a welcoming bow. Satine bowed back, hoping she wouldn’t fall off the table in another rush of dizziness. Thankfully, she didn’t. “Now that we have that over with, what do you say we get down to business?” Micah asked, dropping the eight ball into the nearest pocket. “How do you feel?” Desmond asked, and Satine did a mental check. Aside from the slight nausea and a general surprise of the whole situation, she felt a lot better. She told him so and accepted his and Quinn’s help off the pool table. Now that she’d been introduced to everyone, Satine had a moment to look at the room. Everything was the same as it had been in the painting: pool table center stage, dim lighting, thick rich colors on the floors and walls. The burgundy carpet matched Calder Solaris’s kneelength coat and even the tall plant in the corner looked greener than normal. The flicker of candlelight had her turning, and Satine’s eyes widened. There, in the place of the forth wall, was one huge mirror about the same size as the painting she’d seen on the other side. Only this wasn’t a normal mirror, no, this was definitely something she’d never seen before. Unlike a normal two-way mirror, this wasn’t just a simple window into another room, this was like looking through water. Or maybe moving glass. The mirrored room she and Desmond and Quinn had just come through now peered back at them in a hypnotic slow shifting flicker of candlelight. It was oddly comforting, like looking at an aquarium. “Cool isn’t it?” Micah said next to her, and Satine asked, “What is it?” “Just a little added security,” a soft voice answered, and Satine jumped. She hadn’t heard Solaris’s approach. “It takes some getting used to,” he added, “but after a while your body will become accustomed to the transition.” She had no idea what he was talking about, but the tone was comforting. She blinked slowly, unable to stop from staring into those eyes as he smiled gently. She felt as if he’d brushed her cheek in a sweet caress, and unconsciously began leaning forward. “Solaris,” Desmond warned suddenly, stepping closer, and Satine pulled away, embarrassed. What was she doing? Solaris stepped back, looking mildly amused as he said, “No need to worry Desmond, I am well aware of the possible…” he glanced Satine’s way and finished, “implications.” Implications? Her head was still spinning too much to dwell on it. Solaris turned and walked to a portrait on the wall. This one appeared to be a real, nonmoving one, but Satine didn’t study it too carefully--just in case one of the wolves in the picture happened to move or she was suddenly sucked into the icy landscape. Once was quite enough for one day, thank you very much. Or a lifetime. “The question is,” Solaris continued conversationally, running his hand across the polished wooden stand beneath the painting before turning and asking, “is she?” No, she is not. And she was pretty sure she didn’t want to find out what these “implications” concerning her were. Since Desmond didn’t look particularly happy at the moment, Satine turned to Quinn instead and asked, “What is he talking about?” “Oh man,” Micah said suddenly, looking between the three. “You mean you haven’t told her yet?” “We didn’t exactly have a lot of time to chat.”

Micah ignored the look Desmond shot him and said, “Well we don’t have much time now, so you might want to get on that.” Desmond glanced from Micah to Solaris, then Quinn, who must have seen something in his friend’s look that Satine didn’t, because he happily asked, “Hey Kenji, mind showing me that new sword of yours? I’ve heard it’s quite unique.” “Of course,” Kenji said, speaking for the first time. He swung the cue stick into its holder above his head with the grace of a master martial artist and bowed slightly towards Quinn. “Right this way.” The two men started for a door Satine hadn’t noticed until then, and she heard Kenji say,” I was quite pleased with its powerful skill and intricate design,” on the way out. This was apparently Micah’s cue, and he excused himself, saying he needed to check on something. Left with Desmond and Solaris, Satine fought the urge to squirm or laugh nervously. Why did she get the feeling that she was in the presence of two very powerful, possibly deadly men? Maybe it was the way they were both staring silently at each other, unblinking. Still, both of them had been nothing but pleasant to her. There was no reason to be afraid. Right? Suddenly Solaris turned his attention on Satine and smiled. ‘There are a few things I must attend to young Miss Satine.” She was glad he hadn’t called her ‘Miss Tierney’, and when he added, “I do hope you will excuse my absence,” she couldn’t help but smile and apologize for interrupting their game of pool. “No matter at all.” With a courteous nod in her direction and a glance at Desmond, he left. Finally she could relax. Looking at Desmond, so many questions scrambled for attention she could hardly think straight. Finally, she just settled on the simplest of them all. “Alright,” she said. “Talk.”

Chapter 33

He obviously didn’t want to. Either that or the two ball on the pool table had done him some serious wrong, because he was sure glaring at it. Finally he looked up, his features back to a carefully placed lack of expression. “This isn’t going to be easy to hear and I’m not the one who should be telling you this,” he said. “But we really don’t have much time.” “All the more reason to just get it out there then. It can’t be that bad right?” It probably was, but her head was starting to hurt again, and she mostly just wanted to be done with whatever apparently important and possibly alarming conversation they were about to have. “You might want to sit down.” Okay, make that probably alarming. She took a seat on a real chair this time, more because of her head than his words. Desmond waited until she was nearly settled, then began, “If Alastair has Kat he’s going to want to make a trade.” “A trade?” “For you.”

No beating around the bush this time, huh? “Why me? I mean is he really still that jealous of my father? And if he wanted to hurt him that bad, why wait all this time?” “Because his first attempt failed miserably.” For getting an explanation she sure was confused. It must have shown on her face because Desmond continued without waiting for a response. “When Alastair came back after those seven months,” he said, picking up where their last conversation had ended, “he took advantage of your mother’s kindheartedness to get her alone just long enough to…inject her.” He studied her face, no doubt for a reaction. Still too confused to give him a proper one, she asked, “Inject her with what? “ “Something he’d been searching for for a very long time. Something he’d finally managed to pin down in those seven months.” “So what happened? Did she get sick?” Satine suddenly realized that at the time of Alastair’s injection of her mother, she was still two months away from being born. She swallowed hard. “One of the staff members had seen Alastair arrive and had sent word to your father. He came home just in time to shove Alastair away before the full dose was given, but not before he’d already managed to inject a good amount of the solution into your mother. Chaos ensued, and in the panic to help your mother Alastair got away.” White hot anger seared through her and Satine asked, “Why didn’t anybody go after him? Why isn’t he in jail now?” “They did, they tried, but no one could find him, and quite frankly they were more worried about you and your mother. Long story short,” Desmond said, glancing briefly at the living mirror, “your father rushed you both to the hospital to make you were okay, and medical tests confirmed that there was nothing wrong at all.” “But that doesn’t make sense.” “Exactly what your father thought. So he had his own scientists work furiously on it for the next month and a half.” “Did he find anything after I was born?” Satine asked, wondering if Alastair’s injection had anything to do with her arrival two weeks earlier than planned. “No,” Desmond said. “In fact, you were perfectly healthy.” “So…what? This is some sort of world’s slowest acting poison or something?” To her surprise, Desmond actually smirked. “Not quite, but you’re close. In any case,” he continued, losing his amusement. “Alastair just recently realized that you may come in very handy thanks to his mishap nearly 25 years ago, and wants to test his theory out.” Satine was silent. He was serious. She knew Alastair was ruthless, but she had no idea he was crazy. What could he have possibly injected her mother with that would need 25 years to take effect in her child, in Satine? She didn’t get the chance to ask, because the door suddenly burst open and Quinn announced, “We have to go. Now.” Desmond pushed off the pool table he’d been leaning against and Micah appeared behind Quinn to add, “We have a problem.”

Chapter 34

The problems, as it turned out, where both pretty bad. Micah didn’t get a chance to explain his right away, because Quinn was already shoving everyone out the door, muttering something about a stolen sword, a nasty gift left in its place, and how they had about 50 seconds to get out before they found out just how nasty that gift might be. “Kenji’s dealing with it now,” he said to Desmond as Satine tried to remember how to walk again. She kept stumbling, slowing them all down. She cursed her noodle-y legs, wondering how long it was going to take before the effects of the security mirror wore off. She really didn’t want to be quivering around like a baby deer when that “gift” decided to grace them with its presence. Satine tripped again as they rounded another corner, and Desmond, who had been listening intently to what Quinn was saying, reached over and pulled her back to her feet, keeping his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. He didn’t say anything, but she also didn’t get a disgusted look, so Satine kept quiet, concentrating hard on putting one foot in front of the other. “Where’s Solaris?” Desmond asked as Quinn and Micah kept busy ducking into the rooms they passed to make sure they were empty. “I don’t know,” Quinn said swiftly, closing another door and moving on. “Hopefully with Kenji by now.” “If anybody can get rid of that thing, it’s them,” Micah said, peeking into another room and declaring it clear. Despite their frantic escape, they were taking the time to make sure no one was left behind. Satine had to give them points for that. “Time?” Desmond asked, and Quinn glanced at his watch. “38 seconds.” Micah swore under his breath and increased his pace. “Des--“ “I know.” They rounded another corner, and before Satine could start down a stone inlaid hallway, she was tugged through a door. “Don’t move,” Desmond told her as he propped her up against a tree. A tree? Satine blinked, realizing the glow in the room wasn’t from a light but from the moon. And about a dozen heat lamps that were currently on low in the cozy little greenhouse they were now standing in. Lush and beautiful plants of all shapes and sizes were arranged nicely around a small stone table, two chairs, and a small waterfall in the far corner that trickled into a stream that curved and flowed around the entire room. It would have been extremely comforting, charming even, if not for the fact that the three men in front of her were currently hoisting the chairs into the air to throw at the only windows Satine had seen so far in the house. “Oh Solaris is so not gonna like this,” Micah said, wincing as he watched Quinn hurl a chair at the glass. It sent a resounding thud through the entire room, shaking and quivering, but didn’t break. “He’ll get over it,” Desmond mumbled, catching the chair before it could hit the ground and trying again. This time the glass cracked, sending a spider web of breaks in all directions. Still, it held its own, and Satine thought, bulletproof. Micah finally, reluctantly, threw his chair, and the glass exploded in a shower of crystal and moonlight. “Go!”

Hands were on her and Satine was soon flying out the window at a speed she hadn’t thought humanly possible. She landed on Desmond, who took the brunt of the fall, and was pulled to her feet by Micah almost instantly. Quinn shouted at her to keep going as he helped Desmond up, and they all sprinted across the dewy grass as fast as their feet could take them. And their feet were definitely doing all the work, because even with the adrenaline rush, Satine still felt like she was running a marathon through a swamp. She needed Micah’s help just to remain standing, and had she had the breath to do so, would have felt the need to apologize for slowing him down. They didn’t get far before a huge concussive whomp sounded, and Satine was once again flying. She landed hard, barely missing a tree, and, despite the natural cushioning, had the wind knocked out of her. A rush of weakness and ice water swept over her back, and she froze--quite literally for a second there--before it was suddenly just gone. For a moment, nobody moved. And then Micah was saying, “Well, that was fun,” spitting out a mouthful of grass and dirt. From the looks of it, he’d been the one to shove her out of the way of the tree even as he was flying through the air too. Talk about fast reflexes. “Everybody okay?” “All things considered,” Quinn answered, sitting up and shaking glass from his hair. “I’d say so.” “Remind me to buy Kenji an extra large pretzel for that one,” Desmond muttered, getting to his feet and frowning at the way they’d come. Satine, who unlike them wasn’t in a hurry to get back up and running, just laid there, arms and legs spread out, staring blankly at the night sky. She’d forgotten how bright the moon could get, how beautiful the stars were. It was so quiet out. “Satine?” all three men asked at the same time, and suddenly a wash of heat blazed over her. She was so surprised, she let out a shout, scrambling to her feet and fully expecting to find herself on fire. She immediately lost her balance, and Desmond, who was the closest, caught her before she could take another face plant. That didn’t stop her from trying to put out the flames she couldn’t seem to find. Ow, ow, ow! Hot! Where were they? Get ‘em off! She struggled until Desmond said, “Satine, stop!”, grabbing her bare arms to calm her down. The coolness of his hands convinced her body that she wasn’t on fire after all, and Satine stopped, staring up at him in confusion. “Didn’t you feel that?” she asked. “Feel what?” “That fire, heat, whatever it was.” She looked to Quinn and Micah with the same question. “I could have sworn someone had just set my entire body on fire.” Before anybody could answer, Micah suddenly let out a shout, grabbing something from his pocket and throwing it to the ground. Everybody followed the tiny object to the grass, where it suddenly burst into flames and disappeared. It all took less than a second. “What the--“ “Kenji’s blast must have set it off,” Micah said, staring at the now charred patch of grass. “What is it?” The way things were going, she probably didn’t want to know. “It’s the problem I was talking about before our nice little run for our lives.” Micah glanced from Desmond to Quinn to Satine, and hesitated. After their first surprise, this one didn’t seem so bad. Judging from everyone’s solemn expressions though, Satine was missing a few pages out of the disaster book.

“They’re demanding we make the trade tonight,” Micah said, casting Satine an apologetic look. “And apparently that little device there--“ he toed at the smoldering greenery, “--must have been their assurance we’d show up.” Quinn stepped up to investigate at the same time Kenji and Solaris suddenly appeared, strolling down the hill as if a bomb hadn’t just gone off. Who were these people? “What is it?” Desmond asked Micah, glancing briefly at Satine before deciding she could stand on her own now and moving to join Micah and Quinn. “I’m not really sure. It could be any number of things, but I'm guessing we’ll start figuring it out in the next few hours.” “It didn’t seem that bad,” Quinn said, and Satine wanted to answer, Speak for yourself. That blast of heat had felt as bad as the blackened grass now looked. “Whatever it was,” Micah said, “probably would have been a lot worse had Kenji and Solaris not figured out a way to counteract the first explosion.” The two new arrivals joined in the grass staring contest, which was now a challenge since the smoke had disappeared and it was the middle of the night. “Seems someone wanted to make sure they were heard,” Solaris said, frowning from the damaged lawn to the even more damaged window. He studied it a moment then turned to her. “Are you all right, Miss Satine?” “I’m fine.“ I think “Thank you.” Solaris smiled and absently turned his gaze on the moon. In the silver light his hair almost glowed. “I suspect we have a limited amount of time?” “Until sunrise,” Micah said, and Solaris looked almost amused as he answered, “How accommodating of them.” “I am sorry to interrupt.” Kenji, who had been standing a few feet away, joined them, slipping what looked like a sleek cell phone into the pocket of his long black coat. “But I have been informed our ride is ready. If we are all well,” he glanced around to make sure, “then a car will meet us just over the hill.” All eyes moved to Satine. “Do I have a choice?” “Not really.” Desmond didn’t sugarcoat it, and Satine was too tired to argue. “Well alright then.” At least she would be off her feet, if only for a brief while. They all began heading up the hill that suddenly seemed much steeper now that she wasn’t being thrown over it, and Satine asked, “Should I even bother to ask where we’re going?” As usual, no one answered.

Chapter 35

She was stuck in the backseat of the black Lexus between Quinn and Micah, which, she decided, was better than being stuck in the same spot between Solaris and Desmond. A driver had met them at the top of the hill, handing the keys off to Kenji as Desmond and Solaris talked quietly for a few moments off to the side. Solaris soon turned and headed back towards the dark

outline of the building they’d left, and Satine wondered if it was his house they’d nearly just destroyed. He probably had to go back to make sure there were no more fire hazards or people lurking about waiting to blow them all up when they returned. If they returned. Were they returning? If she was going to get an answer out of anyone, she’d try Micah first. He seemed congenial enough. “Honestly?” he answered. “I don’t know. All I got was the message, and the message said you would know.” “Me?” Well now they were really in trouble. If she was their only hope, they were all doomed. “That’s what it said.” “How am I supposed to know where we’re going? I don’t even know where we are.” “England,” Desmond answered, not even bothering to glance up from the map in his hand. “And Micah’s right, you’re the only one who knows where we’re going.” What part of ‘I don’t know’ didn’t they get? “But I have no idea where we should be going,” she said, at a loss. “I haven’t been to Europe since I was a kid, and I’m pretty sure Kat’s never been here at all.” “Her mother toured with the London Philharmonic, didn’t she?” Quinn said, and Satine gave him a surprised look. “Yes, but that was mostly before Kat was born. Afterwards, it was only when they visited the US.” “Can you think of any place significant around here that Alastair would tie you to?” She thought so hard her eyes were starting to hurt from scrunching them up in concentration, but nothing was coming. She’d never actually met Montauk Alastair, at least not that she could remember, and the only times the family had been in Europe, her mother had done a great job at keeping her and Max entertained with museums and other touristy stuff--none of which would be particularly useful for a man trying to make a hostage swap. “What about your father?” Desmond asked, and Satine looked up to find him folding up the map. He did so easily, compacting it back into a nice little pamphlet sized book--something Satine had never been able to do on the first try--all the while staring at her, waiting for an answer. “What about my father?” “Has he ever mentioned some place outside of Oxford?” Quinn asked, proving that he’d been listening to their earlier conversation in the car. “Possibly somewhere he and Alastair may have visited or stopped at the summer they backpacked across Europe?” “I really can’t--“ She stopped, suddenly remembering something. “My father talked about the first time they visited Stonehenge. Said they’d both teased each other about wanting to go there, and had eventually decided to do it. He said that was the day they both realized just how much they liked to invent things, were fascinated by new ideas people came up with for seemingly impossible tasks. They debated how Stonehenge had been built for nearly four hours before calling it a draw and jokingly deciding that one day they’d build their own somewhere in the states for people to theorize about.” “Stonehenge?” Micah didn’t sound very convinced. Satine could only shrug. It was the best guess she had, and considering that she’d only just now found out what continent they were on, it was better than nothing.

Quinn looked almost as doubtful as Micah, but Desmond merely nodded to Kenji, who took the next turn without a word. Whether they liked it or not, whether she was right or not, they were going to Stonehenge.

Chapter 36

For twenty minutes no one spoke, then suddenly Satine shouted, “Stop the car!”, making everyone jump and Kenji slam on the breaks. The car skidded to a halt, and Satine clambered over Micah. “What--“ “Gonna be sick!” was all she managed, and Micah had the door open lightning fast. She barely made it out to the side of the road before she was violently sick. It seemed to last forever, until finally, finally, she collapsed on the grass, throat raw and unable to breathe. “Are you okay?” Micah had climbed out after her, and now stooped down next to her, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder. Desmond and Quinn were also out, and Kenji, who apparently didn’t know if leaving the car unattended was such a good idea considering the circumstances, leaned towards the open door. He looked just as puzzled as the rest of them. “I feel a lot better now,” Satine muttered, closing her eyes and thankful for the cool night breeze. “What happened?” Quinn asked at the same time Desmond said, “You could have told us you weren’t feeling well, we would have stopped.” “I didn’t know,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so weak. The last thing she needed was for them to feel like they were babysitting someone who couldn’t even get into a car without getting sick. “It just hit, all of a sudden.” She offered Micah a weak smile. “Sorry about that.” “No problem. I’m just glad we got the door open.” He grinned, helping her sit up. “Hey Kenji, you wanna throw me a bottle of water?” Kenji opened the storage spot between the seats and tossed a water out, asking, “Are you sure you are all right Miss Satine?” “I’m fine Kenji, thank you.” She took a long drink and added, “And thank you for stopping the car so quickly.” “Of course, hime.” He smiled and bowed slightly, and though she had no idea what heemay meant, Satine smiled back. She drank half the bottle of water trying to get the awful taste out of her mouth. Contrary to everything her stomach had just angrily announced, she was hungry all of a sudden. Eating was probably not the best idea right now. “Here.” As if reading her mind, Desmond handed her a small package of Club crackers. “It’ll help with the taste.” She ate one and decided to save the other for later. Just in case. They were all looking at her as if they expected her to throw up again, but said nothing. Finally she assured them that she was not going to destroy the upholstery and accepted Micah’s hand up. Quinn kept giving her a worried look, and she tried to look stronger than she felt. Finally, he climbed into the car, and Satine and Micah both looked from the open door to each other. “You want to sit by the window this time?”

“It’d probably be safer that way.” She stepped back to let him in then climbed in after him. Desmond shut the door behind her then got back into the passenger seat. Kenji pulled back onto the road and once again they were off. Although nobody said anything, she knew they were all thinking the same thing she was-what was that all about? One second she’d been staring mindlessly out the window at nothing in particular, the next she was scrambling over Micah for the door. Probably freaked the poor guy out. At least he’d gotten the door open. That could have been disastrous, not to mention embarrassing. Well, more embarrassing than it already was. She glanced down at the remaining cracker in her hand and decided she might as well eat it. The first hadn’t made a mad dash for her throat, so this one should be fairly safe. Hopefully. She ate it quickly, feeling like her chewing was ten times louder than it probably was since she was the only one eating. She wished someone would turn up the radio. It was on, but she could barely hear it over the noise the car was making over the road. She was just about to ask Desmond to do it when he reached forward and turned the knob. It was on the classical station, which she found a little strange considering she was in a car full of young men, but she didn’t complain. For one, she loved classical music, for another, she was afraid any loud drumming or crazed singing might make her sick again. She was listening to the smooth notes of a lone cello when a strange sort of tingling began in her right pinky. Her hand was probably just falling asleep, but after the last time, she didn’t want to chance it. “Um, guys?” Four sets of eyes swung in her direction, Kenji’s through the rearview mirror. “Do you need me to stop?” he asked politely but she shook her head. “Not yet, I just--it’s my finger.” She frowned at her hand, holding it up in front of her. “Your finger?” Desmond asked, shifting his gaze to the side mirror where he could see it. No doubt he was forcing back an incredulous look, wondering if she was going to worry about every little nuance of her body now. “Yeah it feels…I don’t know, kind of like it’s falling asleep.” He raised an eyebrow at her reflection and she added, “I know, I know, it’s probably nothing, and I feel stupid for bringing it up, but--“ she stopped. The tingling had moved on to her next finger and was beginning to feel warm. How very strange. “But what?” Quinn asked, and for a long moment she didn’t answer. Just when she was going to ask someone to see if her hand felt as warm as she thought it was, the tingling receded. Well, don’t I feel like an idiot, she thought, shaking her hand and quickly placing it back in her lap. “Never mind, it’s gone.” She turned her attention to the white line rushing by on the road outside to keep them from seeing her blush. She was pretty sure Desmond saw it in her reflection, but said nothing. She forced her gaze to remain on the road, avoiding the probably annoyed look on his face, or worse, amused. Thankfully nothing more happened until they made it to Stonehenge.

Chapter 37

Somewhere along the way Satine fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, her forehead was pressed against the cool glass of the window. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but it was probably going to leave a mark. Wonderful. Now she was going to meet her father’s nemesis with a great big red splotch across her forehead. Tack on bad breath and grass stains and she was going to make a fantastic first impression. Yawning, she sat back and moved over to try and get a look at herself in the rearview mirror. The car had stopped a long time ago. “Sleep well?” Satine nearly hit her head on the roof. She hadn’t noticed anyone else was there, and caught herself on the side of the driver’s seat as Desmond turned to look at her. “I thought everybody left,” she said, forgetting about her forehead for the moment. “Everybody else did.” “Why didn’t you wake me up?” “We needed to see what we’re up against first.” He was right, it was probably a trap. It made sense to keep her in the car, but waking up to find that Desmond had had to sit in the car to watch her for who knew how long, made her selfconscious. She hoped she hadn’t talked in her sleep, or drooled. Drooling would be bad. Very bad. She quickly brushed the sides of her mouth, relieved to find them clean, then glanced in the mirror. The red mark was there, but at least it was fading. “How long have we been here?” she asked, sweeping her gaze across the night. She didn’t see anyone walking around, just the incredible sight that was Stonehenge. There was something relaxing and awe-inspiring about the way the moonlight reflected off the ancient stones. Silence and history, mystery and reverence all coalescing in this one spot. She wanted to get out and have a closer look. “About an hour,” Desmond said, following her gaze outside. “They should be back soon.” He didn’t elaborate, and to fill the sudden silence, Satine asked, “Did you lose the coin toss or something? Rock, paper, scissors?” Desmond just looked at her. “How did you end up getting left behind?” He didn’t answer, just stared at her, and Satine suddenly wished she hadn’t asked. All that intensity focused on her that was more than a little unsettling. It was probably only a few seconds he studied her, but it fell like a lifetime. Finally, he answered, “I volunteered,” and turned his attention back outside. Volunteered? Funny, she didn’t picture him as the stay behind and let others scope out the danger type. Before she could ask him about it, there was a glint of light in the center of the monument, and Desmond took the door handle. “All clear. Let’s go.” He remained close as they walked over, eyes constantly shifting as if any moment he expected someone to leap out of nowhere and attack. The way things were going, Satine was beginning to appreciate his paranoia. “Anything?” Desmond asked in a low voice as they joined Quinn and Micah in the center of the ring of stones. Quinn shook his head. “No, but Kenji’s keeping watch, just in case.” A light breeze brushed against the back of her neck and Satine shivered. It wasn’t that cold out, but the circumstances of their visit were definitely giving her the creeps. Feeling like she was being watched, Satine glanced over her shoulder. No one was there.

“Take this,” Desmond said, draping his jacket around her shoulders without asking if she wanted it. “And stay here.” “I don’t--“ “It’s useless,” Micah said as Desmond passed him on his way to the other side of the monument. “Des would never accept a lady being without a coat on a cold night. Not if he could help it.” “Really, I’m fine,” she insisted, but slid her arms into the jacket anyway. She didn’t want to offend him. Besides, it was already warmed by Desmond’s body heat. “It’s not even that cold out.” “I’m sure it’s about to be,” Quinn muttered, staring over her shoulder, and Satine turned around. Where nothing had been a minute before, four men now stood. At least she assumed they were men, as it was too dark to see much but four shadows. Four black, ominous shapes in the distance. Silent. Waiting. Even the moonlight didn’t seem to want to touch them. Satine instinctively took a step back and both Micah and Quinn closed in on her. She felt Quinn’s touch light on her back as he leaned in to whisper, “Keep your face blank, and breathe slowly. They can smell fear.” This of course only succeeded in making her that much more afraid. What did he mean they could smell fear? It was like he was talking about animals, not men. Had they brought animals? Maybe a pack of rabid dogs to ensure their cooperation? She mentally calculated just how fast she’d have to run to make it back to the car. Nope, definitely wouldn’t make it. With no other choice, she did as Quinn said, forcing herself to breathe evenly and hoping they (whoever they were) didn’t also hear the quickening of heartbeats. The four shadows moved forward and one eventually glided, there was no other word for it, to the front. He was close enough for her to see his face and was surprised to find it so striking. For some reason she’d pictured the usual ‘bad guy’ face--rough, scowling, slightly asymmetrical, and full of scars. This face was as smooth as a porcelain doll’s and almost as white. High cheekbones offset eyes dark as coal and his long brown hair was pulled into a clasp at the base of his neck. Now that he was close enough she could see he wasn’t dressed in black but in a deep dark blue silk suit that fit him like a glove. He was, however, wearing black leather gloves and shoes that looked much too expensive to be worn outside where mud could get within a mile of them. Everything about this man screamed money and the thirst for power. He was, however, far too young to be Montauk Alastair, so Satine just waited to be introduced, and tried not to fidget. Those dark eyes scanned her head to toe and she found it increasingly difficult not to squirm. What was he waiting for? Just get on with it already! Finally, a smooth Italian voice asked calmly, “Where is he?” Desmond stepped out of the shadows, a nod in the man’s direction. “Septimus.” Septimus nodded back. “Desmond.”

Chapter 38

“You’re looking as evil as ever.” Septimus gave an amused smirk, as if it was the best of compliments. “You’re looking…” he swept his gaze over Desmond’s attire and finished, “Fit.” “I assume Alastair sent you to do his bidding?” “Well, if you want the job done right,” Septimus answered, sounding bored. The suffocating eyes were back on her again, and Satine forced herself to stare at the grass as he said, “This is she?” She didn’t know what he was talking about exactly, but found his tone to be insulting. Something in her stance must have changed a bit towards the negative, because she suddenly felt Quinn tense next to her. He was right. No need to go insulting the kidnapper with expensive taste unless absolutely necessary. She forced herself to relax and tried to put on a pleasant expression. “I admit,” Septimus said, still staring at her. “She is not what I expected. But I suppose she will have to do.” Same to you buddy. Not sure if she should be angry or afraid, Satine missed the sudden stepping forward of the three shadows behind Septimus, and in the blink of an eye Quinn and Micah were in front of her, a few steps behind Desmond. The tension inside the circle was suddenly palpable. She felt that she could reach out, swirl her fingers through it, and watch it flow around the men as easily as it did the stones. Everyone was standing so rigidly they might as well have been a part of the monument. She prayed that whatever happened next it wouldn’t involve another explosion. “Step forward,” Septimus said, and it took a second for Satine to realize he was talking to her. Thankfully, before she could react or not, Desmond calmly answered, “She’s not going anywhere.” The man in front of him quirked a sneer. “Surely you have not forgotten our gift already. Or that there are four of us.” It wasn’t a question. His shadows, dark hooded figures with pale skin and devious eyes, made a move to step forward, but Septimus held up a hand. They stayed where they were but didn’t look happy about it. “Surely you have not forgotten our gift,” Desmond answered easily. “Or that there are four of us.” Kenji stepped silently out of the shadows, moonlight reflecting ominously off the long sword in his hand. Where he’d managed to keep it this entire time Satine had no idea, but there it was, looking as deadly and sharp as Kenji was looking pleasant and accommodating. She suddenly had to reevaluate the polite young Japanese man in front of her, and made a mental note not to get on his bad side. Septimus’s jaw twitched ever so slightly, but he still managed to sound bored as he said, “We do not wish this to end badly.” “That why you sent that nice little explosion, huh?” Micah answered, and for some reason Satine expected to see a warning look from Desmond. There wasn’t one. “Well, just so you know,” he continued, “Solaris will be sending a bill. Oh, and that that other little gift? Yeah, it didn’t exactly pan out like you’d hoped either.” For the first time, Satine saw a flicker of anger flash across Septimus’s expression, and it was enough to send another shiver down her spine. She unconsciously tugged Desmond’s jacket closer.

“Step. Forward.” Septimus ordered, and when Satine didn’t move, Desmond actually smiled. “She is not under your control.” Septimus stared at her without a word, and Satine thought she’d go crazy trying not to look up at him. She really didn’t want to meet that gaze again, especially not when it was mad. “But she is under someone’s,” he finally said, and it was enough to make her look up. “What?” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it and she bit her lip. “Ah.” He smiled in a way that froze her blood. “I see no one has bothered to tell you cara mia.” “Tell me what?” Enough with all the non-conversations already! Just once she’d like a straight answer. She didn’t get it, because Desmond interrupted, “Why are you here, Septimus?” “To make a trade, of course.” “I don’t see the girl.” “The girl is safe and sound resting peacefully in the home at which we acquired her,” Septimus answered, nodding towards Satine. “Our apologies for frightening your friend, it was…a mistake on our part.” He sent a disapproving look towards one of the men behind him but didn’t elaborate. “She was not harmed.” Kat was okay. Satine’s knees went weak with relief, but the confusion returned quickly. “If you don’t have Kat, then what are you here to trade for?” Septimus’s lips curved back into that terrifying smile of his and he held out a hand. One of the men behind him handed him something too small for Satine to make out, and Septimus muttered something that didn’t sound Italian. A fire even worse than the burning she’d felt just after the explosion at Solaris’s house suddenly slammed into her, and Satine gasped, falling to her knees. A million tiny swords of fire sliced through every inch of her body and Satine started to black out, unable to breathe, unable to think. She couldn’t even move to try to put out the flames, and prayed she’d pass out, die, anything to make it stop! People were shouting, but it was just a jumble of chaos. All she could really hear was the roar of her own blood boiling through her ears. Make it stop, make it stop-“Make it stop!” she gasped at the same time Quinn shouted it. More fire pounded down around from every which way, and Satine cried out, tears of pain streaming down her face as she ripped off Desmond’s jacket and tried to get a hold of her shirt. Her hands wouldn’t work, and she screamed. She was going to explode! “Please,” she gasped, white hot pain making it nearly impossible to speak. “Stop--“ Suddenly through the suffocating blanket of pain something reached out to touch her arm and she clung to it, desperately, helplessly, on the brink of unconsciousness. The more she touched whatever it was, or rather wherever was it touched her, the fire was chased away, replaced instead with the most wonderful comforting coolness she’d ever felt in her life. It was comfort and strength and protection and relief and cold, blessedly cold. It was the exact opposite of the burning fire. It was-“Satine.” A voice pushed gently through the swarm of frantic traffic in her head and she opened her eyes. “Desm…?” She couldn’t finish his entire name, and what did manage to make it past her lips was more of a slur than a name. Wordlessly, he pulled her into his arms, scooping her up with all the effort it would take to lift a feather.

“Deal with this,” she heard him tell Quinn in a low voice, and though it was still calm, it was the closest to angry she’d ever heard him. Not that she was able to concentrate much, she could barely keep her eyes open, barely breathe. Satine was too weak to lift her head, and wouldn’t have wanted to even if she could. She vaguely registered a bunch of shouting and something that sounded like the clanging of metal before she began drifting in and out. By the time she was able to open her eyes long enough to focus even for a moment on her surroundings, she realized she was being laid in the backseat of the car. “Desmond…” “Call me Des,” he said as he gently placed her on the seat and began removing his shirt. “But it’s better if you don’t talk in general. At least not yet.” She had the ridiculous urge to laugh. So Quinn was telling the truth. Seems neither man liked to be called by his full name. The faint remnants of the fire were beginning to build back up again, and Satine was suddenly wide awake. “It’s okay,” Desmond assured. “Take off your clothes.” She didn’t need to be fully coherent to realize the strangeness of that request, but before she could protest, he added, “It works better without a barrier.” It? What it? All she knew was that the burning was coming back and she would do anything to stop it. “Would you rather the burning continue?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and without another thought, she tore off her t-shirt. She didn’t say a word when Desmond helped her with her shoes and socks. She’d been too distracted with his request to realize that he had already removed his. Along with his pants. When they were finally both rid of all but the bare necessities, Desmond pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and laying down, tucking her close against him to provide as much skin to skin contact as possible. In an instant, the fire was washed away by a flood of Heaven. With her head tucked under his chin, cheek resting against the base of Desmond’s throat, she curled up against as much of him as possible. Her whole body glowed, inside and out. It felt so good, so comfortable that she could have closed her eyes and fallen asleep forever. It was like being wrapped in silk, slowly floating down a lazy river, with just a hint of sunlight and honey warming her skin. It was satin, it was downy feathers; it was the touch of the world’s most amazing bubble bath. It was relaxation and hope and total trust. It was Desmond. The thought jarred her back to reality, and Satine started to pull away. He rested a hand on her shoulder, his unspoken, Not yet, obvious, and since she really really didn’t want to be hit with another blast of death, Satine relaxed. His hand moved gently over her shoulder to pause at the back of her neck before stroking softly down her back. With every brush of Desmond’s fingers, the fire became nothing more than a bad memory. She didn’t know how he was doing it, but nothing had ever felt so relaxing before in her life. This man she hardly knew, and yet Satine felt perfectly safe in his arms. There was nothing overbearing or frightening about his touch, in fact he seemed to be in deep concentration about something. He continued to stroke soothingly along her spine and she snuggled closer, lulled into relaxation. Desmond’s heart beat steadily against hers, and she couldn’t believe that someone this strong, this powerful, could be so gentle. He proceeded with the diligence of a lion tamer

calming a frightened cat, petting gently, soothingly, and soon the only remaining burning was just a tingle in her calves. Somehow he knew this. Without a word, Desmond sat up, taking her with him. He slid his hand to the back of her knee, then slowly and carefully moved towards ankle. The tingling danced after his fingertips, slipping away like an invisible sock as he gently massaged her foot. It felt wonderful. He repeated the gesture with her other leg, his other arm still wrapped lightly around her middle, holding her close to his chest. Just when she was about to fall into a deep sleep, Desmond started to pull away, slowly. “How do you feel?” he asked, bringing a hand to her face. She leaned into his touch, dreamily answering, “Amazing.” She must have sounded really out of it, because his lips twitched and Satine couldn’t believe she’d never noticed how great his smile was before. His eyes danced with amusement as a dimple adorned his perfect mouth, and suddenly Satine wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Maybe he wasn’t such a brooding unpleasant sort of man after all. If he could take away the burning with just a touch, what could he do with a kiss? Sadly, she didn’t get to find out, because he suddenly handed her shirt to her and asked, “Do you need help getting dressed?” What if I don’t want to? “No I think I can manage.” She took the shirt and slipped it back on, feeling a great sadness at the loss of Desmond’s heat as he carefully shifted out from under her to gather up his own clothing. He politely took his attire outside to put it back on, shutting the door behind him to give her some privacy. Not that she really needed it. It was too dark to see much of anything anyway. Satine pulled on her pants, socks, and shoes, but couldn’t seem to find the strength to tie them. She leaned back against the seat, so tired she could have closed her eyes and fallen instantly asleep. Considering what had just happened outside though, it was probably not the best idea. Stay awake. That was the key. She glanced out the window, expecting to see a mess of distant men rolling around on the ground inside Stonehenge. Instead, she saw toned muscles and moonlight. Desmond was still getting dressed and he too must have thought it best not to turn his back on a possible attack, because his body now blocked most of her view. Satine couldn’t help but notice the way the moonlight caressed his back. The man was pure muscle. He worked swiftly and efficiently, bending down to tie his shoes before pulling his shirt on. He stood a long moment staring out at the night, and when he finally stepped forward, it was to take his jacket from Quinn, who was returning with Kenji and Micah. The latter had a broad smile on his face. Quinn said something to Desmond, and they all stood outside talking a moment. Satine was too tired to worry about missing yet another probably important confusing conversation, and closed her eyes. Now that all men and body parts were safely accounted for, it was probably okay to fade out. The doors opened and this time Quinn took the wheel. Micah climbed in the passenger side as Desmond and Kenji took the seats on either side of her. The last thing that registered in her sluggish brain was the fact that Desmond’s jacket was being wrapped back around her as Kenji tied her shoes.

Chapter 39

Satine stepped into an elegant yet cozy sitting room, tightening the sash of the red silk robe a very nice grandmotherly woman had handed her when she’d woken up in yet another strange bed. She had no memory of changing into the matching nightgown underneath, but certainly appreciated getting out of her old, probably ruined, clothes. She’d also been offered a set of the most comfortable slippers in the world, and though they made no noise on the plush carpet, every man stood up as she entered. Feeling a little awkward, Satine said, “Sorry, I couldn’t find any other clothes.” “More clothes were sent for,” Quinn said, looking at her like he was trying to figure out if she was feeling any better. “They should all be in the drawers in your room.” Drawers. Right. “No need to dress up here,” Micah said happily, waving her towards a seat. He, along with everyone else, had also changed, making Satine assume she’d slept through the night. “As long as you’re comfortable. Feeling better?” “Yes, thank you.” Kenji offered a tea tray to her and she thanked him, taking a cup and savoring the warmth as it slid down her throat. Japanese green tea. Her favorite. “Would you like something to eat?” he asked, and she shook her head. “No, thank you, this is great.” Once she was settled, everyone sat back down. Desmond, who had been leaning against the fireplace mantel, didn’t waste any time. “We’ve all agreed to answer any questions you have,” he said softly, setting his tea cup on a nearby end table. He looked like he’d had a shower and a shave along with a good night’s rest. In fact everyone looked good, extremely good considering they’d nearly been blown up and attacked not too long ago. She made a mental note to start eating healthier and to visit the gym more than once a month. “Who was that?” Satine asked, anxious to finally make some sense out of the craziness of the past 24 hours. “Septimus is…” Quinn started. “Well, basically Alastair’s right-hand man, for lack of a better word.” “And he’s definitely not someone you want to p--“ Micah caught himself in the presence of a lady and quickly modified, “Make angry.” “And what did he do? With that awful burning?” Satine shuddered at the sense memory. “I thought I was going to die, literally explode.” Desmond’s jaw tensed. For him that slight movement was a big deal. Clearly whatever had happened still angered him, but he quickly pushed aside his feelings and didn’t avoid the question. “Septimus decided to use the natural energy of Stonehenge to…” he searched for the right word and finally decided on, “enhance, the spell that was placed on you the first time. I don’t believe he knew what it was before then.” There was so much wrong with those two sentences that she didn’t know where to start. “Wait a minute,” she said, sure she hadn’t heard him right. “Did you just say spell?” Micah and Kenji exchanging a look and that was enough confirmation for her. Satine leapt to her feet. “This is great, this is just fantastic. First my best friend is “accidentally” kidnapped,

then I’m dragged, drugged, halfway across the world, pushed through a mirror, almost blown up, assaulted by fire twice, and now you’re telling me a wizard did this?” “Well, when you say it like that,” Micah muttered, and Satine let out a sardonic huff of a laugh. It sounded ridiculous! “Septimus is not a wizard,” a smooth voice said from behind, and she spun around to find Solaris standing in the doorway looking as elegant and out of this century as always. White lace from his sleeve spilled down around the goblet in his hand that he continued to hold but didn’t drink. “But you can be sure he has one at his beck and call.” At a loss, Satine turned to Quinn. “Are these guys serious?” “Unfortunately, yes.” He sent her an apologetic look and stood up to take her tea cup before she could slosh any more of its contents on the expensive rug. “Satine, I know this sounds crazy, but we’re not lying to you.” He glanced at Desmond then added, “And I hate to say it, but you might want to sit down for the rest of this. I’m afraid it doesn’t get any better.” She sat down but would have missed the chair if Quinn hadn’t been next to her. Suddenly irritated, and blurting the first thing that came to mind, she asked, “Why is it always so dark in here anyway? Is it too much to ask to install modern day lighting?” Before now she hadn’t minded the soft flicker of the fireplace and occasional candle placed here and there, but right now it agitated her. And, seeing as how her brain refused to let her believe a wizard might be behind her problems, she focused her anger on the one thing that made sense at the moment--the bad lighting. “We do not have the need for much light here,” Solaris answered, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “However if it displeases you so, I am sure something can be arranged to make your stay more pleasant.” “Yes, thank you,” she said stupidly, ashamed of her sudden outburst. She fidgeted with the edge of her robe. “That would be much more pleasant.” “If you’re through insulting the electricity,” Desmond said calmly, moving to sit on the end of an antique chaise lounge, “I’ll continue.” She couldn’t believe the next words out of her mouth, but if she was going to be cursed she wasn’t about to go around not knowing what she was cursed with. “So this…spell--“ Yes I know, just move on. “--Septimus found out what it was with that…fireball, or whatever it was, attack?” “Yes,” Desmond answered quietly. “We all did.” She suddenly remembered the blasts of fire from all sides while people were calling her name and realized that it had been Quinn and Micah trying to help. “But why didn’t it fight you?” she asked Desmond, who looked surprised at her question. “The burning got worse whenever anybody else touched me, but with you it--“ she almost blushed at the memory, and quickly finished, “--it went away.” Desmond looked down at a nonexistent spot on the floor, and for a moment she didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally he did. “Because I was the first to touch you after the original spell was cast.” She thought back to the sudden burst of fire on the grassy knoll outside Solaris’s house, nothing compared to what was to come later, and Desmond helping her up. Now that she thought about it, the sudden burning had stopped the second he’d touched her. “So what does this mean?” This time he wasn’t going to answer, so Micah said, “When Kenji counteracted the first spell, the one meant for Solaris--“

“I’m afraid Septimus and I are not on the best of terms,” the blond haired man interjected apologetically. “It set off the spell connected to the ring that was in my pocket,” Micah said. “But it also changed it.” “Originally the spell was meant to disable Solaris and force you to do whatever Septimus ordered,” Quinn supplied. “But now…” he trailed off, and suddenly got very interested in refilling everyone’s tea cup. “Now it’s bound us both together,” Desmond said, reentering the conversation. “And not in a good way.” “Could be worse,” Micah said, but backed off at the look Desmond gave him, muttering, “I’m just sayin’…” “What do you mean ‘bound us together’?” Satine asked, still amazed her brain managed to keep up with such a crazy conversation. Surely she was going to wake up any minute now. “It won’t like letting us apart,” he explained, telling her exactly nothing. “In other words,” Solaris said in a voice used for explaining to children, “Every time you and young Desmond are apart, the need to be together again will grow to such intensities that the next time you are together--“ “Bad things will happen,” Desmond interrupted, sending Solaris a look very close to a glare. The other man simply shrugged. He sent Satine an amused look but said nothing more on the subject. “What kind of bad things?” she asked, and Desmond just stood up again, moving back to his tea cup on the mantel. He didn’t drink it, just lifted the cup to swirl the contents. “The point is,” he said, “we need to find someone who can lift the spell.” Okay… “So we just stay together then, right? As long as we’re not apart the burning can’t return and neither of us will go crazy?” Or whatever bad things happened whenever they were apart. Spells were a thing of books and movies in Satine’s world, and she really did not want to find out what a misfired curse could do firsthand. “Something like that.” He didn’t sound too convincing, but right now Satine had too much new information to take in to try and work through anymore. “Alright,” she said with a determined breath. “So we just find someone who can lift the curse and everybody goes back to their lives.” Strange lives, but their own nonetheless. Micah suddenly let out a, "Ha!", waving a hand in the air. “She says it like this happens every day.” “Doesn’t it?” This being her first magical experience and all, who was she to know what did or did not happen every day in the wonderful world of wizardry? Before Micah could answer something probably along the lines of, “You see a lot of accidentally cursed people wandering around your parts, do you?”, Kenji softly answered, “No Miss Satine, it does not. Something like this is rare even in our world.” She wasn’t sure if he meant Europe, their strange little circle of friends, or something else. She didn’t ask. “Surely there have been mistakes before.” It was hard to believe that she’d be the first. “There have,” Quinn said, apparently giving up on the tea pot because nobody was drinking their tea anyway. “But none of them have been cast twice, or with such intensity in such a short amount of time with both members present.” “So in other words…?”

“This type of spell is usually…” Everyone seemed to be having trouble coming up with the right words, and after a quick glance at Desmond, Quinn said, “Cast from afar.” Okay, she was definitely missing something here. “Why? And what did Septimus mean by ‘She’s under someone’s’? I don’t feel like I’m under anyone’s power.” “This particular spell, the one that for some reason or another the ring decided to cast at that moment, isn’t usually done in the presence of both counterparts, because usually one of them is doing the casting and doesn’t need to place it on themselves.” “But why?” “Because it’s a love spell,” Micah blurted out, exasperated. “Let’s all just skip to the chase here okay?” He looked Satine straight in the eye. “Sweetheart, whether you like it or not, you’re gonna have the hots for ol’ Des over there, and the longer it goes on unsatisfied, the worse you’re both gonna start feeling.” Desmond, Quinn, and even Kenji all sent disapproving looks at Micah, who simply shrugged. “Hey, she was going to find out one way or another, might as well get it over with.” For a long moment Satine just stared at him. This was a very weird dream. Either that, or she needed to get her ears cleaned, because there was no way she just heard what she thought she’d just heard. Considering how her body reacted to Desmond’s comforting touch after the blast at Stonehenge though, what Micah had described could very well be starting to take effect. No, she shook her head. No way. “This is crazy.” Jumping up with the beginnings of a headache, Satine tugged the sash of the robe tighter. Would she really fall madly in love with a man she’d only just met just because of a stupid spell? Things like that didn’t happen in real life! “I’m afraid it is the truth of the matter,” Solaris said, looking suspiciously sincere. “And spells of love, potions or otherwise, are some of the hardest to break. Only a handful of people know how to deal with this one normally--being that, in and of itself, it is one of the most powerful in existence--and I am not sure if there are any people, wizards or otherwise, who would know how to break a curse of this caliber once it has been doubled.” She stood stewing in this new information for a moment, and he held out the goblet to her. “Here,” he said. “Drink this.” “And risk being drugged again?” She backed up a step. “Nuh-uh, I don’t think so.” “I assure you, my dear,” he answered, not offended, “it will help with the anxiety.” “I’m not anxious,” she lied, not really sure why she was trying not to sneak glances at Desmond out of the corner of her eye. The amused glint was back in Solaris’s eye, but he said nothing. Even so, he didn’t lower the goblet either. “Drink it Satine,” Desmond said from behind her. “Trust me, it’s better than the alternative.” “Then you drink it,” she said stubbornly, stepping back so he could get a look at the goblet. When he just gave it an expressionless stare, she let out a sigh, took it from Solaris’s hands, walked over to the fireplace and thrust it in front of him. “You sip, I sip. It’s that or nothing.” “She has a point.” Quinn flashed his friend an amused smirk and Desmond finally set his tea cup down. “I sip, you sip?” She ignored his mocking tone, and motioned for him to go first. Never breaking her gaze, Desmond lifted the golden cup to his mouth, letting the dark liquid slide past his lips. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and when he offered her the goblet, quickly

took a sip, wishing he would let go so she didn’t have to stand quite so close to him to do so. They took turns, drinking in silence until it was finally all gone, and when he dribbled the last of it on his chin, Satine instinctively reached out to stop it from landing on his shirt. Her thumb brushed against his bottom lip and she immediately felt a thrill shiver down her spine. “Sorry, you had--“ she waved in the general direction of his mouth and Desmond suddenly darted his tongue out to swipe the liquid off her finger. He turned and handed Solaris back his goblet. “Happy?” he asked, not even bothering to look at Satine, and she quickly thrust her hand into her silk pocket. She could still feel the warmth of his tongue against her skin. “Yes, thank you, I am.” Fighting the urge to clear her throat, she asked, “Now what?” “Now you go find the rest of your clothes,” Micah said, getting to his feet. “While we try to figure out how we’re going to break this.” Everyone headed for the door, and Satine hesitantly asked, “Does he, um, have to be with me all the time?” Micah laughed despite himself, glancing in Desmond’s direction, and stepped into the hallway with her. “Not yet.”

Chapter 40

“We might have another problem,” Quinn said as almost everyone reconvened in one of the biggest libraries Satine had ever seen. She assumed they were back at Solaris’s (non-blown up by the way) house, and the man must have been richer than the Queen because he sure didn’t scrape on, well, anything. The room was floor to ceiling books and had to be at least three stories tall. There was a huge round skylight at the top, which was painted in a starry night motif. Whatever light was coming in from outside was so muted it didn’t even reach the floor where they were now standing, surrounded by tables full of antique books. Quinn had been hunched over one particularly dusty volume, and now looked up to address them all. “Satine,” he said. “Your birthday is at the end of this week, right?” “Saturday, yeah.” But what did that have to do with anything? Micah muttered something under his breath that was probably best she couldn’t hear, and looked up from the book he had spread across his lap. “You’re saying we have six days to do this?” Even Kenji raised an eyebrow. Thankfully Solaris and Desmond weren't in the room. “Why, what does my birthday have to do with anything?” “Only everything,” Micah said wearily, closing his book with a cloud of dust he ignored as he got up to join Quinn at the desk. She followed him, that familiar feeling of dread starting up again. Quinn’s book appeared to be in Spanish, which Satine was a little rusty on, but she caught a brief glimpse at a familiar phrase, or rather a name. “Ponce de Leon?” she asked, frowning. “Just checking every avenue,” Quinn answered, closing the book. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, but you still haven’t explained what my birthday has to do with any of this.” Quinn tapped a finger absently on top of the leather book, thought a second, then glanced at the door before finally answering, “That solution that Alastair injected your mother with before you were born?” She nodded. “Well it seems it may have worked after all.” “What do you mean?” “Just not in the way he’d expected.” Something suddenly dawned on Micah and he asked, “You’re turning 25?” When she gave him an affirmative nod, he turned away, running a hand through his hair. The news of her birthday had sure managed to bring down the moral of the whole room pretty fast. Talk about feeling guilty. Kenji stood up. “This is not good,” he said, rolling up what he was reading--a scroll that looked like it might crumble to pieces if breathed on too heavily--and Quinn gave him an amazed look. “So it’s true.” “I do not know,” Kenji answered, brow crinkling. “There has never been one to test the theory before.” Satine was about to ask, “What theory?” when Desmond entered the room. Her body recognized him immediately, making her heart leap in nervous anticipation. She frowned at the floor, resolutely not looking at him and telling herself to get over it already. Whatever she was feeling wasn’t real, and it was getting annoying. The entire time she was getting dressed, all she could think about was, What would he like? She even caught herself checking her makeup twice before she finally forced herself out the door. “I’ll be twenty-five on Saturday,” she blurted out, to which Desmond just answered, “We know.” She assumed by “we”, he was including Solaris. Where the other man was however, she didn’t know. He didn’t accompany Desmond into the library, something she was silently thankful for. She couldn’t explain it, but the man made her uncomfortable. “Kenji, we’re ready,” Desmond said, and suddenly everybody stood up. She didn’t bother to ask where they were going, just followed them through the corridor past a line of deadly looking knights into a room full of mirrors and mats. It reminded her of the ballet school she’d attended for a year in her childhood. That was before both she and her teacher realized her knack for tripping over her own feet might better be used in another area-one in which standing or balance didn’t play such an important role, perhaps. Desmond walked across the mats to take a sword from Solaris, who, like Desmond had removed his jacket. Satine briefly wondered if they’d been practicing while she and the rest of the guys had been in the library. The thought didn’t last long, because Desmond suddenly tossed a wooden sword in her direction. Satine immediately backed up. The training sword clattered unceremoniously off of the mat and onto the wooden floor beneath. “Are you crazy?” She backed up even more. “You were supposed to catch it,” was all he said, before turning his attention to Kenji, who had also removed his long black coat and picked up a sword somewhere. It was a real one, as was Desmond’s. Were they serious? Satine glanced nervously at Quinn. When neither he nor Micah looked worried, she relaxed slightly. Not much, but at least they weren’t going to kill each other. Hopefully. “You’re going to need to learn how to defend yourself,” Desmond said, bowing towards Kenji before taking a proper stance. The Japanese man gracefully returned the gesture before whipping his sword up so fast Satine nearly missed it.

“Don’t strangle the sword,” Desmond instructed, slicing it back and forth through the air in front of him with a graceful flick of the wrist. “Grip with your pinky, but your other fingers should be more or less relaxed. You don’t want to hold it so tightly that you tense up. You’ll wear yourself out and your opponent will take advantage of this.” He demonstrated, sending a fierce swing towards Kenji, who tossed aside the sword like he was batting a fly on a lazy afternoon. “Use your hips, keep your elbows close to your body, and don’t forget to breathe,” Desmond said, righting his sword and demonstrating in a few more thrusts. “Breathe out on a strike, in when you’re getting ready to.” He and Kenji showed her a few more times at slow speed, then sped up, going at each other so fast Satine could barely see the blades of their weapons. Aside from the *shiink* and clang of metal, and the sound of their feet expertly sweeping the mat, the room was silent. She was once again surprised by how light and swift Desmond was on his feet. He fought like he danced, fluid and with a purpose. “This is a crash course,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise as he and Kenji continued their deadly dance. “And we don’t have near enough time to teach you everything--“ Kenji pressed his blade towards Desmond’s neck and he paused briefly to push him off before continuing, “--But Kenji can teach you everything you need to know about the basics and advantages of both Eastern and Western fighting if you pay attention.” “Eastern and Western,” Satine said dryly, crossing her arms. “Is there any other kind?” Her question distracted him and Kenji took advantage of it, knocking Desmond off-balance. He could have gotten in a painful hit in if he’d wanted to. Desmond quickly corrected, and pivoted 180 degrees. They stopped suddenly and lowered their swords, bowing towards each other. Kenji smiled. “You are becoming rusty, my friend.” “It’s been a while,” Desmond answered, and Kenji’s smile only deepened. He winked at Satine with a silent, 'Even the best man can be easily distracted by the presence of a beautiful woman.' She spent the rest of the morning falling down and getting hit by big wooden sticks. Half the time Desmond was shouting, “Stop tensing up!” or “Use your hips!”. The other half he was trying not to fall on top of her. “I’m doing the best I can!” she shouted back, sure her arms were about to fall off. The sword may be made of wood but it was heavy. Kenji was nicer about her pathetic attempt at defending herself. He showed her the correct ways to hold various swords, how it was easier to defend on the flat side, and caught her more than a few times when she’d tripped over her own feet. Solaris had left but Quinn and Micah were both encouraging and getting quite a laugh over Desmond’s struggle for patience. Eventually Kenji suggested that one of them might take over a while, but she suspect it was more as a favor to Desmond than to give her a variety of opponents and styles to practice on. To her surprise, both Quinn and Micah were just as light on their feet as Desmond, and she gasped, “Who are you people?” as Micah backed off to prevent his sword from putting a hole through her new sweater. That had been another mistake. If she’d know she was going to spend the morning so hot, she would not have worn something with sweat in the name. At one point they decided that she should get some ‘attack from all sides’ practice, which was a total disaster. She’d ended up somehow tangling her sword in Quinn’s shirt, tripping over Micah, and landing on Desmond, who had to work quickly to keep them both from being

impaled. All in all, she got in only about a half a dozen hits, most of which she suspected were out of sympathy to make her feel she was doing better than she was--which was about as good as her brief brush with ballet. “Alright, that’s good,” Desmond said as Kenji helped her up, and when she apologized for knocking him down yet again, he surprised her by saying, “No, you did very well for a first day.” “Really? Because I would describe that more along the lines of clumsy and pathetic disaster.” “It was a valiant first attempt,” Micah answered with a laugh. He took her sword as Quinn began gathering up the others. “For the energy drain you’ve suffered these past few days, it was admirable.” “Impressive,” Quinn agreed. “I’ve never seen anyone knock Des down so much in such a short amount of time.” Even Desmond couldn’t help but smirk at that, and Satine just shook her head. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think even in top form energy-wise I’ll be any better. You should have seen my parent’s faces at my first ballet recital. It was soon after that they bought me a piano.” She laughed. “I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

Chapter 41

“Sadists!” she gasped, collapsing against the nearest chair, completely out breath. “All of you--okay maybe not you Kenji--“ she corrected, waving a hand towards him as he handed her a bottle of water. “But seriously, what do you want to do, kill me before the other side gets the chance?” After lunch and the totally draining sword training lesson, she’d made the mistake of asking why they didn’t just use guns. That’s when she was told that they do, but that many of the men Alastair would probably send after her preferred the up close and person approach that a sword allowed with their victim. That had made her shudder, and should have been her first clue to what was about to happen next. When Micah asked if she knew how to shoot a gun (since apparently there were loads of lower level cronies all too happy to go with the easier killing approach), and she’d said, “kind of”, all four of them turned on their heels and suddenly they were moving her off to the shooting range. She’d spent the rest of the afternoon hitting about as many targets as she had with the sword. “I’m hopeless!” she’d finally exclaimed, and that was when Kenji left to go get her the water. Now that he was back and she was sitting, Satine really didn’t think she’d be able to get up again. “Maybe this is too much for one day,” Micah said, frowning at her beet red, sweaty face. She wanted to say, You think?, but only managed a weak halfhearted wave of agreement in his direction as she took another long drink of water. Oh blessed coolness. She’d long ago made Micah go get her a t-shirt to change into--it was either that or force him to give her his--and it was now plastered to her in all the wrong places, probably giving her a very unladylike appearance, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was a shower--no, make that a

hot bath--and a place to lay her head down for more than a few seconds between shooting demonstrations. “I take it somebody’s had enough?” Quinn asked, stepping through the door with a tray of food all for her. They’d all been taking turns going to research in shifts and his must have ended. Desmond, on the other hand, must have stayed behind to continue through the next shift, because she hadn’t seen him in a long time. “This somebody is,” she said, accepting the tray gratefully. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now, and the complicated looking sandwich in front of her looked so good her mouth was already watering. She picked it up, took a huge bite and tried to decide if she wanted to try the cheese, fruit, or custard-looking mini pie next. She went with the pie, unable to keep desert for the end. “Our apologies for the hastily thrown together meal,” Kenji said. “But the kitchen is still undergoing some minor repairs.” “Repairs?” “From the blast,” Micah said, and Quinn explained, “When we found out about the first “gift”, as Septimus put it, Kenji had to uh, improvise.” She didn’t want to know what that meant and moved on to the cheese and fruit. “Everything should be back to working order by tomorrow.” Kenji asked if there was anything else he could get her, and when she told him she was fine, he and Micah excused themselves. Left with Quinn, Satine asked, “Aren’t you going to eat?” “Des and I grabbed something quick on our way to the library.” “Where is my other magical half by the way?” Satine asked dryly, wondering what that wonderful sauce on her sandwich was. Everything was so good! Quinn laughed. “I think you’re starting to get to him.” She raised an eyebrow around a mouthful of fruit and he laughed again. “I’m serious.” “Me or the spell?” “Both,” Quinn answered. “Des hates researching. He’d prefer to be out there tracking down Alastair himself, yet he decided to stay and keep searching that massive library for some way to undo all this.” Satine took a drink, slowing down her eating now that she didn’t feel quite so starved. “All this,” she indicated what had to be the most complex shooting range she’d ever seen, “it wasn’t just to torture me was it?” “You need to know how to defend yourself. Alastair’s men won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl.” “No, I mean you were all trying to distract me, weren’t you? From feeling the effects of the spell.” Suddenly she didn’t hate them all quite so much. Quinn smiled. “Did it work?” She thought a moment. With all the jumping and falling and hitting and shooting, she hadn’t noticed the constant pull of Desmond’s presence nearly as much. “Yes, actually, I think it did.” His smile turned into a grin. “Good. Because once you’re done there, Sarah has a nice warm bath waiting for you in your room.” The food was forgotten. She jumped up, feeling a renewed surge of energy. “That has got to be the best news I’ve heard all day.”

Chapter 42

Whoever Sarah was, (probably the nice lady who had given her robe to her this morning), she was Satine’s new favorite person. The bath, which turned into a bubble bath after she’d washed her hair, was divine. The bathroom connected to her room had one of those huge claw foot tubs that she could sink all the way into and still have a good foot of water above her. She lazily drew her fingertips through the lavender scented bubbles and sighed contentedly. It felt almost as good as whatever Desmond had done to take away the burning at Stonehenge. The thought had her mind wandering to him. Quinn already confirmed that Desmond wasn’t one to just sit around and wait, yet he’d waited with her. While she slept in the car he kept watch, and even when the fight exploded, he'd walked out. Who was this man who knew about spells and sword fighting and hung out with people who used mirrors and paintings as security? A man who could be infuriating one second and sweet the next? After another twenty minutes or so of soaking, and unable to stop thinking about the one person she shouldn’t be, she sighed and decided she probably should get out of the tub. For some reason, even with the exhausting day and great bathtub relaxation, she couldn’t fall asleep. When she realized it was only 11:00, Satine got up, threw on some comfortable clothes and slippers, and headed toward the library. Surely someone would still be up. The halls were quiet and comforting, yet confusing and numerous. She set out to find the library but ended up in the greenhouse instead, and was amazed to find everything back in its place. There was not so much as a boarded up window to suggest their earlier mad dash to a makeshift emergency exit. Must be nice being Solaris, she thought as she stared out at the moonlit grass. The night was clear, quiet. The soft trickle of the nearby fountain and comforting presence of surrounding plants brought a lush oasis under the stars inside, and for a moment she could actually feel the gentle breeze drifting through the bulletproof glass to brush her cheek. Of all the rooms she’d seen in this strange place, this was by far her favorite. She stood there a second longer, reminding herself to come back and see what it looked like in the daytime, and was about to leave to continue her search for the library when she noticed she wasn’t alone. At the table, in a shaft of moonlight, Desmond sat hunched over a huge tattered old book that had definitely seen its better days. “Oh, sorry, I--“ Wait a minute…She stopped and squinted at him, a soft smile brushing her lips. He wasn’t reading, he was asleep. Nathaniel Hawthorne once said, “Moonlight is sculpture”, and boy was he right. Never before had Satine seen such perfection in a sleeping face, such peace. Maybe it was her imagination, or the plain and simple fact that she had never seen that expression on Desmond’s face in life, but Satine suddenly felt a certain softness for him. Paint the man in sleep and moonlight and prepare to be hit with a definite ethereal result. Even asleep he must have felt her staring, because in seconds, he was on his feet, reaching for some weapon she hadn’t know he carried. “It’s just me!” she said quickly, holding up her hands and sorry she’d interrupted what was a much needed rest.

Recognizing her, he relaxed, glancing around to see if anyone was with her. “Sorry,” she said, wondering why she hadn’t just left when she’d found him sleeping. “I got lost looking for the library.” “You’re in the right wing,” he said, sitting back down and flipping an ancient page in his book. “The library is in the left.” “Like I said, I got lost.” He didn’t answer, apparently engrossed in whatever language was written on the pages in front of him. So much for the soft innocent expression of sleep. Desmond was back to the intense look of determined indifference, and Satine decided she must have been imagining the other look before. She doubted he ever let his guard down, even in sleep. Deciding she had a better chance at getting even more lost than she did at finding the library, Satine walked over and sat down in the chair opposite Desmond. Scanning across his pages, she asked, “Find anything useful?” His eyes moved up to meet hers, and for a second she half expected him to answer, “Yes, but at this hour I thought I’d read through the rest just for the fun of it.” Instead, he said, “Not yet,” and went back to reading. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but it was pointless to ask, so she just sat there, lost in thought, listening to the water trickle behind her. It was a nice sound. No wonder he liked working in here. After a long moment, Desmond finally looked up again. “Was there something you needed?” “No, sorry, am I bothering you?” Duh. “I couldn’t sleep and now that I’m here I find something very relaxing about this room. But I could leave.” She made a move to get up but he stopped her. “You’re fine. Stay as long as you like.” He went back to the book. Satine settled back into her seat. Whatever he was reading must be important, and she didn’t want to just sit there staring at him--that would be awkward in the best of situations--so she took her time studying all the plants. Most of them she’d never seen before, but there were a few here and there along the pathway that reminded her of her mother’s garden. She’d never had much of a green thumb herself, so she had no idea what the names were, but they were recognizable nonetheless. Now that she had time to actually look at the place, it was a lot bigger than she remembered. A small cobblestone walkway wound around the room, crisscrossing the path of the water in three places, and small lights flickered along the sides like a dusting of starlight. Leaving Desmond to his work, she got up and followed the path, pausing every once in a while to stop and smell the hundreds of exotic plants that reached all the way to the ceiling in some places. “This is a beautiful room,” she said quietly, moving on. “I’ve always like it,” Desmond answered, looking up from his book and watching her pause to look at the fountain. “Not quite as overwhelming as the library,” she said with a smile. “Six hours surrounded by wall to wall information and Micah’s snoring, well--” Desmond frowned. “Even I can only stand that for so long.” She laughed and rejoined him at the table. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “Aside from the restlessness and general ache of today’s crash-course in weapons defense?”

“Aside from that.” “Pretty good?” “Pretty good?” “Well this is the first time I’ve ever been cursed, so I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to feel,” she answered honestly and he laughed. Not just a smirk, or a sarcastic huff, but a real honest to goodness laugh. He must be tired. Closing the book, Desmond said, “I guess pretty good is better than pretty bad.” She agreed with him there. Nodding to the book she asked, “Nothing?” He shook his head. “Nothing here or in the seven other books it’s taken me six hours to get through.” Desmond sat up straighter, working the kinks out of his shoulders and neck before settling back in his seat and staring out the window. “Whoever Septimus is working with, they know what they’re doing.” Too bad nobody else seemed to. Desmond pulled out another book, this one much smaller than the first and Satine asked, “How do you know all this?” And when had things gotten so complicated? They were all much easier when she was just a billionaire’s daughter trying to avoid a blind date. “I read,” he answered. “No, I don’t mean this,“ she waved at the book, “but this, everything, all of it. How do you know so much about me? My family? And do they know? I mean obviously my parents know what happened with Alastair before, but do they know what’s going on now?” Desmond stared at her a moment, then said, “You ask a lot of questions.” “And you’re very good at avoiding answers.” “Fair enough.” Proving his statement, she wasn’t about to let him prove hers. “So…?” “You might say your father and I share a similar…distrust of Alastair.” A dark shadow passed over his blue eyes and Satine got the feeling that distrust wasn’t exactly the word he was looking for. Whatever Alastair had done to him, Desmond still carried the weight of it with him. “So you’ve met my family before?” “Not until the day Quinn and I arrived at your parents’ house.” “But you knew everything about us already.” “Everything relating to Alastair, yes.” “Does my brother know?” Satine asked, thinking of how quickly Max had trusted Quinn and Desmond to take care of her. “Some of it, yes,” Desmond said. “I don’t know how much of it he knew before Quinn spoke to him, but he knows enough to believe you will be safer with us than you would be at home.” If this was safe, she shuddered to think what the alternative might be. “Are they okay? I'm not putting them in danger, am I?" "No." At least that was something. "What about you?” “Me?” “Well, I’m not the only one here who’s been hit by Septimus’s backfiring spell. Are you okay?” He seemed surprised by her concern and he went back to the book as he answered, “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” “This kind of thing happen a lot around here, huh?”

“You really want an answer to that?” “Right, yeah, probably not.” His lips twitched again and she smiled back. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked, suddenly curious. When he didn't say no, she continued, "That night, when you first arrived and then took Dori home?" She hesitated. Was she crossing a boundary here? "Yes?" "I thought I saw you limping when you came back." He leaned back from the book and surprised her by answering, "Septimus had sent out a reconnaissance squad. Somehow their information got crossed and they thought Dori was you." Satine's eyes widen. "Poor Dori..." "Yes." He focused back on the book. "We'd dealt with the lowlifes sent to kidnap her-you--and believed her safe." Satine sighed sadly. "You tried." He didn't answer, back to the book, and they moved on to sit in companionable silence. Satine soon found herself trying to stifle one yawn after the other. Finally, Desmond said, “Satine?” “Yes?” “Go to bed.” She laughed despite herself. “Aren’t you tired?” “I’m not the one yawning.” Knowing when she was beat, Satine got up. “Fine, but promise me you won’t spend all night wearing yourself out with these books?” He glanced down at the worn leather cover. “This one can’t take more than a half hour, an hour at most.” She raised a suspicious eyebrow. “And the rest of them?” “Yawn.” To her great annoyance, she did. Unable to find anything to say to that, she rolled her eyes, told him to get some sleep at least some time before she next saw him, and headed for the door. “Oh, and Satine?” She stuck her head back inside. “Yes?” “Follow the purple carpet. It’ll lead you back to your room. The library is along the green.” Huh. “Good to know.”

Chapter 43

The next morning was spent learning basic self defense from Kenji, then some down and dirty it’s-you-or-them moves from Micah. She’d learned way too many ways you could really injure a person than she (or anyone else for that matter) should ever know, but at least she now felt marginally qualified enough to fight off an attacker. She tried not to think too hard about who might be doing the attacking though.

Micah and Kenji tried their best to assure her that someone would always be there to do the real fighting, that this was just a precaution, but Satine had a feeling they were just trying to keep her from freaking out too much. She got the same feeling when Quinn joined them few hours later. “We’ve got some good news and some bad news,” he announced, glancing between the three of them. “Which do you want to hear first?” “The good news.” It was about time they had some. “The good news is we might have found someone who could help.” “Good?” she asked, perking up. “That’s great! What’s the bad news?” Quinn set a piece of folded paper on the stack of mats between them. “We have to go to him.” Micah picked up the piece of paper, opened it, and swore. “My thoughts exactly,” Quinn answered grimly. Satine and Kenji leaned over to read what was on the note. Kenji stiffened in recognition, but unfortunately for Satine, the symbol on the paper didn’t mean much. “it’s just a compass,” she said. It looked like every other compass she’d seen in her life, except for an odd sort of wavy mark in the center. “Exactly,” Micah answered. “But how does that help?” “It’s the symbol, or rather the calling card, of an incredibly hard to find man,” Quinn explained. “Okay, but if he’s the only one who can fix this, how do we know he’s not working for Alastair?” “Because he works for no one,” Micah answered, then asked Quinn, “Des is really okay with this?” “Doesn’t seem like we have a whole lot of options here.” Even Kenji was hesitant, fingering the paper. Softly, he said, “He has not been seen for many years.” For the next few minutes Satine listened to them discuss if they even had a plan on where to start searching for this mysterious Compass Man who they only ever referred to as “he”. She was doing her best to pay attention, but something was tugging at her concentration, making her fade out and antsy. She finally realized what it was when Desmond entered the mirrored training room. “Alright Micah,” he said without preamble. “Suit up.” Micah groaned, but headed over to the line of swords on the far wall. As he picked one out, Satine raised eyebrow a Quinn. He grinned as Desmond also took his weapon of choice, and said, “They both really hate flying.”

Chapter 44

Turns out the two men were fighting to see who’d get to be pilot and who’d’ have to endure the trip in back with the refreshments and the rest of them. Micah won, which Satine felt a little

guilty about since it was her sneeze that distracted Desmond enough to gain Micah his winning point, and now Desmond was seated in front of her, clutching the arms of his leather seat like any second they might spring up and decide to attack him. “Why don’t you sit in the cockpit?” Satine asked, trying to distract him from takeoff as they taxied down the runway. She knew how he felt. “Too many cooks in the kitchen,” Quinn answered for him. He held something out. “Gum?” “No, thank you.” Desmond gave a terse shake of the head and Satine wished there was something else she could do to help him. He really hated flying. Finally something they had in common. “Micah must be good though, right?” she asked. “I mean if you trust him enough to fly you around.” “Oh yeah,” Quinn answered, chewing his gum and giving his friend a pat on the shoulder. “Two of the best pilots you’ll ever know.” As the plane picked up speed and the wheels took to the air, Desmond dug his fingernails into his armrests and Satine asked, “Is there anything you guys can’t do?” “Nope,” Quinn answered. “We are perfect.” “And so humble too,” Satine answered, and when Quinn laughed Desmond finally began to relax. Once the plane reached coasting altitude, a small screen blinked on in front of each of their seats and Micah’s face appeared. “Lady and gentlemen,” he said in a mock flight attendant voice, “it is now safe to move about the cabin. Feel free to stop gripping the armrests now Mr. Décar.” Desmond shot the screen a glare and Micah laughed. “Okay, you’re right, I’ll be doin’ the same thing next time. You hang in their buddy.” The screen clicked off. “So this guy,” Satine asked, now trying to distract herself both from the dangers they were all getting themselves into and the urge to move closer to the man in front of her, “he’ll know how to fix this?” Desmond looked at her for the first time since he’d entered the plane and for the longest he had all day. “We can’t be sure,” he said. “But he is our best chance.” The words were entering her ears but bypassing whatever thought process she might have had going on because she was so distracted by the heat of his gaze. It was electric, intense. Fire and ice wrapped up in a swirling mystery of blue she couldn’t stop staring into. His mere presence had been affecting her all day, and now that they were stuck here together in the suddenly too small cabin of the plane, she realized his lack of enthusiasm for this particular flight might extend beyond his simple fear of flying. In fact, she was beginning to feel the need for a major distraction from it herself. Thankfully, they had Quinn. She had to hand it to him, Quinn certainly knew how to keep a conversation going. The trait she’d found annoying and slightly exhausting back at her house was now a welcome relief. He talked about some of their previous run-ins with Alastair’s men, all of which had thankfully led to more minor injuries and bruised egos than anything. He was probably leaving out the really bad encounters, and answered what he could about Septimus and his men, all of which, he assured were more brawn than brains. “But Septimus,” he said, shuffling a deck of cards he’d pulled out a while ago, “he’s a different story.”

When Desmond had declined his offer of Texas Hold ‘em, Quinn had switched places with him to engage in a few rounds of Blackjack with Satine, and now dealt their hands. “He’s conniving and he’s smart. Oh, nice,” he said as she hit on her King and three to get a seven. “And ruthless. He won’t stop until he’s got what he wants, and he’ll do anything to get it.” Quinn dealt again, frowning at the second combination of fives and fours he’d had in a row. Satine hit on a ten and two and was dealt a nine. “Wow, I’m never this lucky.” She shifted to keep her leg from falling asleep in the wrapped up position she’d taken as the game went on, and asked, “Why is he helping Alastair?” “Who knows? Money, power, both. Septimus has always been a--are you all right?” The tingling in her leg didn’t want to go away no matter what position she was in, and Satine apologized for bumping the table. “Sorry, I can’t get my leg to wake up.” Quinn cocked his head to the side. “Pins and needles kind of feeling or burning?” “More like a--“ she stopped. “Oh no, you don’t think--“ “Des?” Desmond was already switching places with Quinn before Satine could decide if this was normal leg falling asleep tingling or Septimus-Stonehenge-I-want-to-die burning. She didn’t object when Desmond lifted her foot into his lap and slid his fingers around her ankle. The tingling, at least the first kind, was totally forgotten. “How does that feel?” Quinn asked. Desmond’s hand carefully moved to her calf. Warm comfort washed over her, radiating from his touch, and once again she wondered if it was the spell or Desmond. “Good,” she managed, mouth suddenly dry. “Good…thanks.” They locked eyes and it was suddenly a lot more difficult to breathe. A lock of hair fell across his forehead and Satine had to muster a great deal of restraint to keep from reaching across to tuck it back into place. Her fingers itched to touch that face, to run through his hair… Quinn cleared his throat and Satine quickly pulled her foot back . “Sorry, it must have just fallen asleep.” “Better to be safe than sorry,” Desmond answered. He didn’t meet her gaze again, and nodded to Quinn. They changed seats. After a few seconds though, Desmond excused himself and went to go see how things were up with Micah and Kenji. When he was gone, Satine sank against her seat. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” Quinn asked, picking up the cards again. “For all of it. I mean this has got to be really frustrating for him, for all you guys. I am making you fly all over the place.” Quinn put away the cards and pulled out a Chinese checkerboard from the compartment next to him. Clearly he’d spent many hours in the air trying to pass the time. At least he was good at it. “Do you think it’s getting worse?” Satine asked, setting up marbles into her dimpled triangle. It was a wooden board, not the tin kind she was used to, and looked hand painted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d played Chinese checkers. “You can’t think of it like that,” he said, letting her have the first move. “If you do you’ll just make yourself crazy trying to compare how you felt before to the next day and the one after that.” She jumped her own piece and waited for his move before repeating the gesture with another marble. “What happens if we can’t break it?” “We will.”

“But if we didn’t?” Quinn looked up from the board. “Then Micah’s going to be getting in a lot more flight hours than any of us planned on.”

Chapter 45

Desmond still hadn’t returned by the end of their game, but the tingling was back. And this time it was definitely not the usual foot-falling-asleep tingle. For one thing, it was in her arm, for another, it happened so suddenly that she jumped up, knocking all the marbles to the floor. Quinn was on his feet in surprise, catching her as a wave of vertigo had her thinking the plane was going down. “Satine?” “I can’t--I don’t know…” She couldn’t focus and the burning was getting worse. “Arm,” she finally gasped. “My arm, the burning--It’s back. It’s definitely back.” “Des, Kenji, get in here!” Quinn called out, bending to look her in the eye. “Satine, look at me.” Forcing her eyes to focus made them tear up and she swallowed hard. Was it always this hard to breathe? “That’s it, just keep breathing. Try to relax, tensing will only make it worse.” She clung to his arms, afraid to let go, afraid to move. Why? Why was this happening and how could she make it stop! Desmond and Kenji flew through the cockpit, and even Micah called out, “What? What’s wrong?” “Her arm,” Quinn told Desmond, stepping carefully aside as his friend took his place in front of her. Satine couldn’t get herself to let go of Quinn’s sleeve and he stayed next to her, telling Desmond how the burning had suddenly shown back up at the end of their game. “Kenji,” he said as Desmond began feeling her arm. “Tell Micah I think we’re going to have to reroute the flight plan.” “No, it’s okay,” Satine gasped, finally starting to relax and breathe normally. Whatever Desmond was doing it was working. “It’s going away.” She let go of Quinn’s arm and Desmond helped her to her seat. This time he stayed next to her, still lightly massaging her wrist. “That’s good,” Quinn said sympathetically. “But I’m afraid if we stay on this heading it’s only going to get worse.” “Worse?” “It would seem Septimus had a built in fail safe,” Desmond said, working his fingers down hers. The burning was almost gone. “Even though his plans backfired with the spell, he can still use it to track you.” “Which is why we can’t continue this way. Where we’re going?” Quinn said, “Septimus must have come to the same conclusion.” “He’s waiting for us in Moscow?” “Or on his way.”

“But how can he possibly have known our plans?” she asked, thanking Desmond and letting him know he could stop. He let go of her hand but didn’t move. “Even we didn’t know where we were going until we left.” “Whether he knows it or not it, seems you’re able to sense him too,” Quinn said. “It is partially my fault Miss Satine,” Kenji apologized. “We did not have much time to counteract what I thought was only one spell at the time. Its blast must have triggered a tracking beacon which Septimus was able to activate at Stonehenge.” It was all so foreign to her they might as well be speaking a made-up language. “It’s not your fault, Kenji, how were you supposed to know what was going on outside?” She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and added, “I was there and I still don’t know.” “It’s not necessarily a completely bad thing,” Quinn said, offering some hope. Satine’s expression must have betrayed her thoughts, because he added, “If you can sense him, we can avoid him.” “For how long?” “As long as it takes.” Oh yay. Kenji left to go reconfigure their flight plan with Micah and Quinn sat back down. Satine absently started collecting the fallen marbles. The last thing they needed was for someone to slip on one and break something. Wouldn’t that just be perfect. Desmond bent to help her and Satine asked, “What do you think?” “I think it’s entirely possible. With Septimus I wouldn’t be surprised.” “In other words, you’re going to have to come running every time I sense him?” He didn’t answer, which pretty much meant yes. Quinn tried his best to make her feel better. “We’ll figure something out.” He glanced at Desmond, hoping for some backup. “Des?” “We’ll figure something out.” Desmond settled back in his seat, the look in his eyes throwing his thoughts miles away from the conversation. He was thinking, but about what? Satine exchanged a look with Quinn. Neither of them pressed the issue. When the plane slowly shifted its course and Desmond didn’t grab for the armrests, Satine knew something was wrong. At the very least, it was important enough to distract from even his deep-seeded fear of flying. “Des?” He looked up in surprise. Whether it was because she had remembered to use the shortened form of his name or just that she was talking to him, she didn’t know, but his expression softened at the sound of her voice. Quinn left to speak to Micah and Kenji, and Satine softly asked, “It’s not just me, is it? You can feel it too.” It wasn’t a question. As well as he was able to relinquish the burning in her body, Desmond had to have some sort of sense in his own to know just the right place, the right touch, to take it away. As far as she knew, he’d never had to deal with anything like this before, so she was going with the ‘you can feel it too’ approach. For now. “In not quite as drastic a form,” he said, surprising her with his direct answer. “But yes. I do feel something.” She left it at that.

The soft hum of the engine settled around them until Desmond broke the silence. “Satine?” he asked softly, absently fingering with one of the marbles he, for some reason or another, had not yet set back on the board. “Yeah?” “Promise me…That you will not be afraid to use what you’ve learned in any circumstance.” “Of course!” Relieved, she almost laughed. She’d been expecting something much worse. “Even if that circumstance is me.” “You?” This time she did laugh. “If I’m going to have to be defending myself from you, then I have a much bigger problem here than I thought.” He didn’t share her amusement. After an unsettling moment in which he just continued to stare at her in an, I’m-not-jokingpromise-me sort of way, Satine finally said, “Okay, fine, yes.” Not like it was ever going to happen anyway. “I don’t plan on letting any of Septimus or Alastair’s goons off me before I get a chance to ask Alastair himself why he wants me--why he’s gone to all this trouble, and what he’s doing this for.” She stopped, surprising even herself. Up until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how much she really wanted to face Alastair, to find out what his obsession was with her family. Was it too much to hope for to once and for all get him to leave them all alone? Desmond’s expression darkened. “Promise me you will not go looking for Alastair. Ever. And that if you do see him, for any reason, you will turn around and get out of there as fast as you can.” “But--“ “Satine.” This was non-negotiable. Even more so than his first request. What had Alastair done to him to provoke such a strong response? Did she really want to know? Probably not. Her stubborn side wanted to argue, wanted to find out, but now was not the time or the place. “I promise not to go looking for him,” she compromised. “But I can’t promise I’ll run away if there’s any hope of getting some real answers to things.” Things Desmond himself might know about, but so far hadn’t exactly offered to tell her. He could save her a lot of trouble if he’d just cooperate. He looked like he was about to argue when Micah suddenly appeared onscreen again. “Hope you guys like Italian,” he said happily. “Because we’ll be landing in about 20 minutes, and I don’t know about you, but I could definitely eat.”

Chapter 46

Despite being the hungry one, Micah disappeared at lunch. He met up with them later at the hotel, a smile on his face and fake IDs in hand. “You want to grab something at the restaurant before we head up?” Satine asked, feeling bad that he’d missed food trying to cover their tracks. “I grabbed something along the way.” He hurried them to Desmond’s room to reroute their travel plans.

“We’re all set with these,” Micah said, handing out passports and IDs, and Satine glanced down at hers. “Ellie. Nice.” “Anybody asks, you’re Quinn’s cousin.” “Wait, let me guess. You guys already have your own alter egos.” Now that she looked at them, hers was the only bright and shiny new passport among the bunch. Quinn grinned and slid his passport into his pocket. “When you’re a celebrity around here you can call yourself whatever you want and no one asks questions.” Satine cocked an eyebrow. “Celebrity?” “It’s a long story.” “One of these days we’re all going to sit down and have a very long talk.” Sadly, this was not going to be that day. Yes, they’d have a very long talk, just not one which involved the Italian celebrity status of Quinnlan Laroche. They’d barely shut the door when there was a knock on the other side. Suspicious glances were flung in all directions, and everyone’s hands inched slightly closer to the inside of their jackets. Quinn and Kenji took up either side of the door as Desmond answered it. “Oh!” A young woman jumped back in flushed surprise. Her accent was thick, but her English perfect. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong room.” She nervously glanced down at the iced champagne in her hands before skirting her gaze about the room and settling on Satine. “I was just looking for--“ “He’s here.” Desmond stepped back, apparently deciding the woman held no threat, and headed into the room as Quinn stepped forward. “Ah, Carlotta, how nice to see you again!” he said, all charm and smiles. The girl blushed and looked down at the floor, suddenly shy. Quinn took the ice bucket and squeezed her hand, “You remembered, how very kind of you.” Carlotta mumbled a thank you, bowed in the general direction of everyone, and quickly exited the room. Quinn shut the door, and Micah laughed, ruefully shaking his head. “I assume that’s also part of the long story?” Satine asked. Desmond glanced at his watch then Quinn. “This must be some kind of record even for you.” “What can I say? I’m a popular guy.” Judging from the fact that their group had taken up the entire top floor of the hotel, Satine decided he was a very popular guy. Still grinning, Quinn set the champagne on the table near the window “Very well Mr. Popular,” Kenji said, eyes sparkling with quiet amusement. “We will give you the honor of finding some more glasses.” He held up the only two champagne flutes. Seems Carlotta had not been expecting quite so much company. Satine remembered seeing two glasses in her room when she’d gone to drop off her bags before they ate, and volunteered to go get them. “And I,” Micah said, pulling out a red wine bottle from inside his jacket. “Will go find something for this.” Must have been something else he’d picked up on his ID acquiring trip, Satine thought as she followed Micah out the door. Promising to keep Micah in sight while they were gone, she left Quinn, Kenji, and Desmond to set up the computers and other equipment. Now that they had to avoid Septimus’s trail, it was going to take a little more than simple guesswork to figure out the travel plans.

By 2:00 all drinks were forgotten. In fact, the glasses were all untouched. Everyone was too deeply engrossed in something that looked more to Satine like a scene out of a James Bond movie than simple travel plans. Kenji and Quinn poured over electronic maps crossed with colorful lines and blinking dots, while Micah typed furiously away on his computer so quickly she couldn’t even tell what it was he was working on. Across from him, back to the window, Desmond sat with headphones in place, scanning the airwaves--listening for what she wasn’t sure. They were a finely tuned operation, and the most attractive bunch of technical geniuses Satine had ever seen. She thought about Kat, and the look her friend would be giving her if she could see her now, and felt a pang of homesickness. She hoped Kat was doing okay. She also hoped Max or her parents had at least told Kat that she was okay, that Satine hadn’t just abandoned her at her own house. Feeling extremely useless, Satine continued browsing online, trying to find out as much about Montauk Alastair as his billion-dollar industry allowed, which wasn’t much. She’d found the usual Alastair-got-his-start-at-a-young-age-and-moved-on-to-greatness blurb, along with a few pictures of a smiling man with dark hair who looked good for his age. She wondered how much of his billions had gone into plastics--of the cosmetic kind. She read through his bio twice: grew up in England, went to school in America, blah, blah, blah. There was nothing there she didn’t already know. Satine clicked back to her search engine, preparing to look somewhere else, when a small window popped up on the bottom righthand of her screen. She started to click on the exit button of the ad, but hesitated. “You have one new message” blinked at her from a window outside her browser. Satine bit her lip, mouse hovering. Should she say something? Would she look like an idiot asking them about a pop-up? She chewed it over a few more seconds then finally decided on the good ol’ better safe than sorry route, and asked, “Uh, guys?” Quinn and Kenji looked up. Desmond either didn’t think it was too urgent or didn’t hear her, and Micah was still too engrossed in typing to pay attention to anything else right now. “This is probably nothing but…” Quinn got up to have a look. He frowned as she handed over the mouse. “That’s odd, nothing should--” He stopped in midsentence as the message blinked off then back on again. “Hey Micah, come take a look at this.” Micah continued to hammer away at his keyboard a moment then looked up. “Sorry, what was that?” “Have a look.” Quinn spun Satine’s computer around to face him and sat back down. Desmond removed his headphones and asked, “What is it?” “Looks like an anonymous IM,” Micah said, brows creasing as he tapped a few keys. “The IP’s being bounced all over the place, whoever this is knows what they’re doing.” “What’s it say?” Satine asked, more curious than anything. Micah hit a series of keys. “Nothing. Whoever it was must have freaked out and ran. Took his message with him.” “Can you get it back?” Desmond asked, glancing at his own screen. “I can try, why you got something?” “Maybe.” Micah moved on to his new challenge, and after a few minutes, Satine asked, “Do you guys hear something?” “Like what?” Quinn asked, but Kenji confirmed, “A phone.”

They all looked at Desmond, who tapped the screen in front of him. He looked at Satine. “It’s coming from your room.” “My room? Who’d be calling me?” “It’s a cell phone.” “But I left mine at home.” She got it as the words were coming out of her mouth. It might not be her phone, but someone had meant for her to answer it. Kenji was already leaving, and when he returned he handed the phone to Desmond, who glanced at the missed call, pushed a few buttons, then plugged it into a cord that pulled out from the side of what looked like a mini computer. “Call’s coming from France,” he said after a few seconds of watching the screen. “From a disposable phone.” Probably a lot like that one, Satine thought, glancing at the one on the table. Who would be calling her from France? “I think I might have something on our mysterious messenger,” Micah said just as the phone started ringing again. “Hold on a second…” He typed again. Satine continued to stare at the phone, feeling the weight of the caller on the other end ordering her to pick up. Was it just her or was it getting louder? “Should I answer it?” “Hold on, I’m tracing--“ “Got it!” Micah interrupted Desmond, leaning forward and squinting at the screen. The phone continued to ring. “This one’s not coming from the same number--“ “It’s encrypted--“ “I think--” “Just another--“ The draw of the phone, the need to answer it was becoming so strong Satine started reaching for it, and suddenly Desmond and Micah both leapt out of their seats, shouting, “Don’t!” In a split second, Desmond was tackling her at the same time Micah lunged for the phone. Quinn and Kenji were on their feet just as fast, running in opposite directions as Desmond ordered her to, “Stay down!” and a weird popping noise sounded. It was followed by a hiss and Quinn thrusting something in her face as Desmond jumped up to go help Kenji, who was hovered over a sprawled-out Micah on the floor. Head spinning with confusion and the rush of adrenaline, Satine fumbled with--a gas mask? Where had that come from? She quickly glanced between Micah and Quinn, silently trying to ask the latter if the former was okay. “Just keep breathing into there,” Quinn said, voice hollowed by his own mask. “And close your eyes, it won’t sting as much.” Suddenly remembering her voice, she gasped, “What happened? Is Micah okay?” Quinn glanced over his shoulder. “Des and Kenji have it.” A haze filled the room, stinging her eyes with tears, and Satine blinked furiously. She wanted to make sure Micah was going to be okay before she passed out. She thought she heard him gasp, “Silver!”, and in a flash, Kenji was across the room and back. He handed a syringe to Desmond, who took no time in jabbing it into Micah’s shoulder. Micah reared up with a shout of pain, and what happened next had to be her drug addled imagination playing tricks on her, because it was crazier than everything that had happened so far combined. No way, her brain told her, ignoring her eyes. No way!

Chapter 47

Once things had finally quieted down, and the gas masks removed, Satine admitted, “I don’t know what that was, but I’m really starting to see things.” Since she didn’t need to egg on her hallucinations, she bypassed the champagne and headed for plain old glass of ice water. She drank the entire thing before sitting back down in an antique looking but not too comfortable, high-backed armchair. Absently running a hand over the teal upholstery, she let out a dry laugh and said, “I mean I am really starting to see things.” “Satine…” Quinn spoke hesitantly, exchanging a look with Desmond, and she cut him off. “No, it’s okay. I know what you’re going to say--It’s been a long day, what I saw was all in my head, Micah’s gonna be fine, we need to get back to work.” She was babbling and she knew it, but she was still trying to shake that image. An image that, even though she knew it wasn’t real, was still more than a little disturbing. “Satine,” Quinn said again, and this time he knelt in front of her. “I’m fine,” she insisted, waving off her own imagination. “I mean, I could very well be going out of my mind here--come on, Micah doesn’t have fangs--Ha! Fangs! Can you believe it? That’s what I actually saw.” She looked at Micah who was now lying on the bed, sound asleep. “I need to stop watching so many bad late night sci-fi movies. I mean, could you imagine Micah as a vampire? Really?” It was suddenly so ridiculous to her she burst into giggles. You would have thought she’d raided the champagne instead of the sink. She was laughing so hard Quinn took her arms to keep her from falling off the chair. “Satine.“ Third time’s the charm. Finally she stopped laughing and let out a long sigh, exhausted. “What Quinn?” she asked, still grinning. “What is it?” He glanced at Desmond again, and when she saw his expression, she sobered. “What?” She checked again. Micah’s chest was still moving. He was still breathing, just asleep. “He is going to be okay, right?” “He’s going to be fine, but…” “But what?” “What he’s trying to say,” Desmond said, crossing the room and leaving Kenji to watch over Micah. “Is don’t freak out.” “Why would I freak out?” If anything would cause her to freak out, it was Desmond telling her not to freak out. She didn’t like where this was headed. “Because you weren’t hallucinating.” Say again? A million questions flew through her mind all at the same time. She wasn’t hallucinating because it was something else--a dream maybe? Another spell? Or she wasn’t hallucinating because it was real, because what she had seen, impossible as it may be, had actually happened? That when Desmond jabbed the syringe into his arm, Micah really had reared up, fangs bared in pain from both the pellet that shot out of the phone into his hand, and the gas that had filled the room? Or, getting back to her original thought, had it all been a mirage? A dream? They really needed to be a little more specific.

Still a little dizzy from the haze of vaporous silver that mostly blasted Micah, Satine asked, “And by ‘not hallucinating’, you mean…“ “It was silver for a reason.” She stared just stared at him. “Both the pellet, no doubt meant as a tracking device for you,” Desmond continued, “and the gas.” She thought she knew what that meant, but she didn’t want to believe it. Glancing at the peacefully sleeping man on the bed, she still couldn’t accept that someone that…playful, mischievous, not to mention able to walk around in the daytime, could really be a--“Micah?” she couldn’t help but ask. “Seriously? Micah?” Still kneeling, Quinn looked torn. He moved to sit on the ottoman in front of her and when he spoke, he did so earnestly, careful not to touch her, lest he should scare her even more. “We wanted to tell you, but, well, would you have believed us? Not to mention, how does one really begin that conversation?” How does one indeed! Satine jumped up, incredulous. First a wizard, now a, “Vampire? He--you mean he--how?” She suddenly couldn’t breathe. Saying it out loud somehow made it real, and Satine began backing up towards the wall. If Micah really was a vampire, and they’d known it this whole time, what else hadn’t they told her? What else were they keeping secret? “Satine--“ “Stay away. All of you,” she ordered, bumping into the balcony door. How many more lies was she going to have to uncover? How many more people couldn’t she trust? Quinn took a tentative step towards her, and her voice nearly shook when she said, “How do I know you’re not lying? How do I know you’re not working for Alastair? That this isn’t all just one big trap to win my trust before you hand me over to the boss?” How did she know they weren’t all vampires? “Because if we were working for Alastair, he’d have you already,” Desmond said, sounding as if this was exactly the type of reaction he’d been expecting. You see? she pictured him asking, rolling his eyes, This is why we didn’t tell you before. “Look,” Quinn tried again, “nobody here wants to hurt you, Satine. Des is right, if we’d wanted to, we’d have done it already.” He looked at Micah and back. “He saved your life. At a great risk to his own. You have no idea how toxic silver is to vampires.” Obviously she had no idea about a lot of things. She glanced at the bed hesitantly. “Is he going to be alright?” Her knowledge of vampire lore consisted pretty much of what she’d seen onscreen. Now that she was actually standing in a room with one, she realized she could throw all that--limited though it may be--knowledge out the window. Micah hadn’t burst into flames at dawn, and although the silver had affected him, as it had all of them, he was still alive. “He should be fine,” Kenji said softly, answering her question. She’d almost forgotten he was in the room. He lowered a cool washcloth to Micah’s forehead and left the bedside. “And I too apologize Miss Satine.” He bowed towards her. “We are not the most…trustworthy bunch.” At first she thought he was talking about them, as in he, Micah, Desmond, and Quinn, but slowly she began to realize that wasn’t the case. “Wait…” Oh no. “You mean…?” “I am afraid so.” His smile was kind. “But we are not all what Hollywood filmmakers make of us.”

First Micah, and now Kenji? The news that one of the nicest, most serene people she’d ever met in her life was a vampire left Satine in a total stupor. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, believe it or wake up. Eventually, she ended up turning to Quinn and Desmond. “No,” Desmond said before she could even ask. “We’re not vampires.” “You just hang out with them.” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she regretted it instantly. She didn’t mean to offend anyone. Kenji and Micah had both been nothing but kind to her, looking after her and even saving her life. “Yes,” Desmond answered, ignoring her tone. “We do.” “What Des means, is that we’re going to need as much help as we can get here.” And that just because they were vampires, it didn’t mean they weren’t good people. Quinn didn’t have to say it out loud. She shut her eyes, rubbing her temples at a growing headache. Were they really having this conversation? Since when had her life become the plot of a Bmovie horror film? “I’m sorry Kenji,” she said finally, opening her eyes. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” “No offense taken.” He smiled and went back to check on Micah. Did he ever get angry? Satine took a very long moment to let it all sink in. Micah was a vampire. So was Kenji. No, wait, back up. Vampires were real? Yes, vampires were real. They didn’t burst into flame at sunrise, had a sense of humor, and most certainly, definitely, did not sparkle. Even she had been pretty sure about that last one even before today. “So…” Quinn said, stretching the word when she said nothing more. “I know this is a lot to take in, and you’re going to need some time, but for now…We good?” What could she say? No, thank you, please take me back to my family where Alastair can kill us all? Yeah, sure, right after she tried out for the Broadway version of Dracula: Dead and Loving It. She gave a noncommittal nod and said, “I think…I just need some air.” When she headed for the balcony, nobody stopped her.

Chapter 48

The beauty of Italy was lost on her. Satine stared out at the amazing view not seeing, not hearing, mind reeling too fast to think. She stood there, who knew for how long, until someone stepped out onto the balcony behind her. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Desmond was a constant pull, an addictive presence that was growing with every hour. It was like having an itch you couldn’t scratch or a constant tickle in your throat--only got worse the more she tried to ignore it. “Micah’s awake.” He joined her at the railing, holding out a seriously overpriced bottle of hotel water. She took it wordlessly but didn’t drink. “He’s going to be fine.” “Good,” she said, staring down at the bottle in her hand. “That’s…I’m glad he’s going to be okay.” In the silence that ensued, she snuck a glance back inside, relieved to see Micah batting away at something Kenji and Quinn were trying to get him to drink. Desmond placed the phone

(now melted and in a plastic bag) that had caused all this trouble on the wide railing between them. Glancing out at the skyline as he said, “The calls were made from separate phones, but aside from that our trace turned up nothing useful.” Of course. Why should their luck change now? “How did it get here?” she asked about the phone. “Septimus has spies everywhere. I’m surprised we made it this far.” She finally turned to look at him. “How do you do it?” “Do what?” he asked, picking up the phone and placing it in his pocket. “All of it. All of you. You act as if this type of thing happens every day. I mean, you travel with gas masks, and enough electronics to make the Lone Gunmen jealous.” A glint of amusement passed his eye at The X-files reference, and Desmond leaned back against the railing. They watched Quinn and Kenji pack up said equipment and try to keep Micah in bed at the same time. It was a feat they soon both gave up on and just let him help. “We’ve had worse.” Although she didn’t doubt it, Satine raised an eyebrow at him. He continued to watch his friends inside. Sensing her question, he softly answered, “You don’t want to know.” “I’m sure I don’t.” Finally something they agreed on. “So what now?” Silently, she added, We just pack up and move on again? Wait for Septimus to find us there and try to blow us up? To her surprise, Desmond said, “If Septimus’s men are behind this, they’ll be expecting us to run.” If? “We’ll stay here tonight, keep watch.” “But they’ve already proven they can get to us here.” “Not necessarily.” He was silent as he watched Quinn snatch the champagne bottle away from Micah, pressing a laptop case in his hands instead. Micah grumbled and glared at Quinn’s back, but took it and followed him out the door. “You think someone slipped me the phone before we got here?” she asked, bringing his attention back to the conversation. “It would have been easier that way.” Desmond nodded to the electronic keypad on the balcony door. “We don’t just stay here for the good room service.” She thought of the trip up to their rooms, realizing the buff man in the elevator was not just a convenient button-pushing uniform. The hotel had paid big bucks to make sure their guests were well taken care of, in every sense of the word. It’s a wonder she didn’t have to do a retina scan at the peephole just to get through the door to her own room. Satine glanced at her watch: 10:03 AM--Eastern Standard US time, anyway. Their whirlwind trips were giving her more than a little jetlag, and she mentally tried to recalculate what time it was in Italy, resetting her clock to the afternoon. The water bottle slipped from her hand and Desmond caught it like he’d been expecting it to fall. She, on the other hand, had not, and in her scramble to grab the bottle, caught his hand instead. A jolt of adrenaline shot up her arm, kick-starting her heart. Satine froze. She was suddenly intensely aware of Desmond’s presence, the strength in his grip on the bottle, the faint smell of cologne and aftershave. Slowly, she met his gaze and was struck with the overwhelming desire to kiss him.

Desmond quickly backed away, taking the water bottle with him and mumbling something about getting back to work. He stepped back inside, and Satine did her best to shake it off. Had he felt it too? One thing was sure, it was getting worse. Just watching him go back inside made her yearn to follow him, and she took a deep breath. You can do this, what you’re feeling it isn’t real. Yeah, tell that to the curse.

Chapter 49

“So this Compass Man,” Satine said a half hour later as she paced the room, trying to work off some nervous energy. “He knows how to break this spell?” “I very much doubt it.” Well that was encouraging. “So we’re looking for him…?” “Because he knows how to find someone who does,” Desmond answered, looking up from a large map he’d spread out on the table before him. Everyone else, Micah included, had left to go follow another lead, having decided that it was probably better if Satine stayed back at the hotel this time. Considering her knack for attracting things that exploded, she didn’t argue. She snuck a look at Desmond through a mirror on the wall. There he was, stretched out over the map, compass in hand, as relaxed as she was tense. How could he ignore it so well? “I’m going to go get some ice,” she said suddenly, and grabbed the now melted champagne bucket. He stood up to follow her and she stopped him. “I think I can make it to the end of the hallway by myself.” Not waiting for an answer, she headed for the door. She was almost out when he said, “Leave it open.” “It shuts by itself.” He frowned at the door, and Satine said, “I could walk really loudly if that’d help. Maybe bang on the walls, throw some ice, on my way back?” He was not amused. “Just hurry.” She didn’t hurry as fast as she probably could have. She needed some time away from him, even if it was just a few minutes. She got to the ice machine at the end of the hall only to find it broken. Big surprise. Sighing, she glanced back at the door to Desmond’s room. They had the entire floor, and she remembered seeing another ice machine on the other end, but she was also much closer to the stairs. Would he mind if she just ran down really quick to that ice machine? It’d be faster than going all the way to the one at the end of the hall. Looking between the door to the room and the one to the stairs, she made a choice. Bad things always happened in stairwells in movies, so Satine was on edge the entire short flight down. She made it safely to the ice machine--the working one--filled up her bucket, and gave herself a proud nod. See? She could manage whole a trip down the stairs without-The attack came out of nowhere.

A hand surrounded her mouth, another her waist, and she was pulled across the hall and into the nearest room. The door slammed, the room was showered in ice, and Satine had the ridiculous thought of, All that for nothing! She was shoved unceremoniously up against the door, and the hand on her mouth slid to her throat. “Scream and you’re dead.” The voice was male, a mix between a growl and a whisper, and whoever it was could have definitely used a breath mint. He tightened his grip, leaning into her, and Satine winced as she was forced to her tiptoes to avoid being strangled. “Who--” she croaked then skipped ahead to avoid the pain, “What do you want?” The man sneered with an, “Mmmm…” that sent a shudder down her spine. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he leaned forward to inhale against her neck, and his hot breath slithered over her skin when he said, “I didn’t believe it. Not until now.” It was too dark to see his face, but his excited energy was quickly filling the room. He’d found what he was looking for and he wasn’t about to let it go anytime soon. “Be--lieve…what?” she gasped, forced to hang onto his arm to keep her balance. He let out a low laugh and leaned forward to nuzzle her neck again. “That you existed.” The smooth caress of fangs teased against her pulse, and fear shot through her whole body, making it suddenly even harder to breathe. What to do, what to do? Her alarmed mind was flinging random self-defense orders at her in a mismatch of fractured images and distant voices. Panic was pushing them all away, jumbling them in a fireworks display of--Vampire! Can’t breathe! Shouldn’t have taken the stairs! Fight! “Now, now,” another much calmer voice came out of the shadows, and though she couldn’t see this new man, she could feel his presence. It was…power. Vaguely familiar, but tempered, as if he was letting her in on some sort of inside joke she didn’t yet get. “No need to panic the guest of honor.” The one with his hand around her neck backed off slightly, but not enough for her to get any leverage in a struggle against him. He swung her around, pinning her arms to her back in one swift movement, and Satine couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. “Well then maybe you should rethink your introductions,” she spat back at the faceless darkness, hoping she sounded more angry than scared. Both men ignored her. The vampire at her back tugged her closer, leaning forward so his fangs were nearly touching her skin again. He chuckled and his Scottish accent scraped over her again, “Introductions? Ya hear that? She wants a real introduction.” Well, this was it. She was going to be bit by a vampire. The perfect end to the worst few days ever. “And you are willing to take the chance?” the first man asked conversationally. The fangs backed off with a growl and a, “Those are just rumors, we don’t know what’ll happen or not.” “Well then, by all means, set those rumors to rest.” A muttered curse in an even thicker accent, and Satine was shoved forward into the dark. She stumbled and two hands reached out to steady her as a lamp flicked on in the corner. She blinked against the sudden but dim light and tried to her get her bearings. Her gaze eventually settled on the man in front of her and her eyes widened. “You!”

He let go of her, smiling politely and bowing in her direction. “Always a pleasure.”

Chapter 50

It was the man from the party, what was his name again? Randy? Ross? Rider, yes that was it, Rider. Mr. Rider with the thin scar and laidback ease. The one who had spoken to her when Peter had gone by with the food. A sudden horrific thought struck her. “It was you, wasn’t it? You ran their car off the road.” “Ah yes.” He had the nerve to look genuinely apologetic. “That was not I, but an unfortunate misunderstanding nonetheless that I do apologize for.” Unfortunate misunderstanding? A woman was dead! Furious, Satine answered, “You people sure seem to be making a lot of those lately.” For the briefest of moments he looked almost confused. He hid it well though, and in a blink of an eye was smiling again. When he didn’t say anything, she asked, “What do you want?” The Scottish man guarding the door shot a look at Rider, but remained silent. Now that Satine could see him, she was careful to keep her distance. The vampire was dressed all in black leather, and wore studded boots and wrist cuffs. He was by no means an attractive man, and if she had to describe him in one word, it’d be “thug”. His face matched his breath. In other words, he looked like the type of guy hired for dark alley work and keeping people quiet. He wasn’t touching her anymore, but she could still feel his hunger. His eyes bored into her like she was a piece of meat--a rare stake for a starving man. The fact that he wasn’t carrying a sword like Rider was only mildly reassuring. “I’m here to offer you a deal,” Rider said simply, and Satine just answered, “Well I think I’ve had enough threats for the week, but thanks.” She turned towards the door then thought better of it when Bad Breath over there took a step forward. Boy was he ugly. When she turned around Rider was suddenly right in front of her. “Have they told you?” he asked, staring down into her eyes. “Who they really are?” “You mean that they’re vampires?” Scared as she was, she wasn’t going to back down. Her chances of overtaking Rider and his right-hand vampire were laughably slim to beyond none, but if she could stall long enough, maybe Desmond would come looking for her. Please come looking for me. The ice on the floor was beginning to melt. “And of you?” Rider asked, unblinking. “What have they told you about yourself?” His voice was softening, oddly soothing, and yet Satine began to feel a little claustrophobic. It wasn’t just his closeness, there was something else, something pressing about his whole being. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t quite seem to make herself do it. “I…” she trailed off, blinking slowly. A strange warmth settled over her. He was close enough to kiss, and when he spoke, it was a whisper, breath tickling her cheek. “Did they tell you there was another way out? Of this spell of yours?” What? She pulled back to look at him and--

BAM! The door to the room flew open with such force that it knocked Bad Breath off his feet and into the wall. Satine jumped back, startled out of her daze and never so happy to see Desmond before in her life. Where he’d gotten the sword he now had aimed at Rider’s chin, she had no idea, but she was so relieved she didn’t care. “Rider.” “Desmond.” The two men stood there with their (in any other circumstance laughably out of place) swords as if they weren’t at all surprised to see each other. “Taking your time these days, are we?” Rider mocked despite the weapon at his throat. “Sleeping on the job?” “I could say the same to you.” Desmond pressed the point of the blade closer. Rider didn’t even blink. “What are you doing here?” Desmond asked. “What do you think?” “You’re not taking her anywhere.” “No need. We can finish this right here if you’d like.” Without warning, Desmond pinned Rider against the far wall, blade poised dangerously across the other man’s neck. Bad Breath had recovered, but before he could make it across the room, Rider held up a hand. The vampire stopped. Glaring at both men, he backed off. Satine quickly stepped into Desmond’s line of sight. No sense in making this any worse than it already was. “Who else knows we’re here?” Desmond demanded and Rider smirked. “Who do you think?” “I should kill you right now.” “But we both know you won’t.” They stared at each other a long tense moment before Desmond finally pushed back, glaring at Rider as the other man adjusted his expensive silk shirt. “Well,” he said. “Now that that’s over with--“ “Wait,” Satine interrupted. “What did you mean?” Rider raised a curious eyebrow, and she asked, “Before, when you said there was another way to break the spell, what did you mean?” “Nothing,” Desmond answered, eyes still on the men who attacked her as he grabbed her arm and ushered her towards the door. “We’re getting out of here, come on.” “Ah, but if you leave now, you’ll never know the answer to that question,” Rider countered, and Satine very nearly believed him. She hesitated, and it was just enough time for Rider to whip out his sword and lunge. Desmond shoved her out of the way just in time, almost getting his arm cut off in the process. Metal clashed, sparks flew, and men moved at a speed she hadn’t thought humanly possible. She’d seen Desmond fight Micah in training, but this, this was different. This wasn’t for show. Whoosh! Rider slashed across the curtains, sending fabric fluttering soundlessly to the floor as Desmond leapt over a leather chair and out of the way. Thwack! Desmond’s blade hit the table as Rider dove underneath. Satine frantically looked around for something she could use to help Desmond, but it was too dark to see much past the bedside lamp. Plus she had other problems. “Satine look out!” Too late. Bad Breath was on her, tackling her to the floor as swords continued to clash behind her.

“Ah-haa,” the vampire sneered, dark eyes full of amusement as he hovered over her, letting her see the full extent of his fangs. “Looks like maybe I’ll be gettin’ to test those rumors after all.” He began leaning towards her. Satine struggled to free herself from his grip. If she could just…get her leg…Yes! Unfortunately, she never got to test her kicking abilities, because a dark mass barreled into the vampire, and the two rolled across the floor. Rider was right behind it, so she assumed the mass was Desmond. Scrambling to her feet, and without thinking, Satine threw herself at Rider, landing on his back, arms wrapping around his neck. Surprised, Rider was thrown off in his aim at Desmond’s back and turned his attention to his own. “You’re intentions are admirable,” he said, airway not the least bit constricted no matter how hard she tried to tighten her grip. “But I’m afraid I don’t have time to play.” In one easy move, he flung her off his back and onto the bed, where she landed with a bounce and an, "Umph" as the air was knocked out of her. “Don’t worry,” Rider said with a smile as Desmond and Bad Breath continued to grunt and punch at his feet. “We’ll have time to continue our chat in a minute or two. First I must deal with this…thing,” he said, frowning. Rider lifted his sword in both hands, and when Bad Breath suddenly flipped onto his back, Satine shouted, “Des!” He looked up just in time to avoid having his spine severed, but not quick enough to avoid the blade completely. Rider’s sword sliced through Desmond’s shirt and he let out a growl as it nicked his left leg. Bad Breath took the opportunity, and scrambled to his feet. Satine realized where he was headed a little too late, and leapt off the bed only to be dragged back by her ankle. “No more Mr. Nice Guy,” the vampire growled, and shoved her back onto the bed, barring his fangs and trapping her with his arms and legs. “Now let’s just see what all this fuss is about.” “No!” Satine and Bad Breath were so surprised, they both froze to look at Desmond and Rider, who had both echoed Satine's shout. The swordsmen were tangled up in each other, blades at throats, having forgotten the fight for the moment. They seemed to realize this at the same time, and shoved off each other to approach the bed. “Get off her,” Desmond ordered, keeping a close eye on Rider, who returned the favor as he said, “Bundt, please remove yourself from Miss Tierney. I can take it from here.” Satine raised a surprised eyebrow at the vampire on top of her. “Bundt?” He shot her a nasty look but followed orders, climbing off the bed and grumbling the entire time he walked over to collect Rider’s sword. He held it on Desmond as his superior approached the bed. Rider held up his hand to examine the few cuts and bruises that were beginning to form. Blood tricked from his knuckles and he actually looked pleased. Satine swallowed hard. That couldn’t be good. She chanced a nervous look at Desmond, and must have been doing a worse job at hiding her fear than she thought, because he warned, “Rider, you lay one hand--” “Hand over your sword, and I promise she will not be harmed,” Rider spoke over him. Without bothering to look at Desmond, he said, “Bundt?” The vampire stepped forward and held out his hand.

Desmond didn’t move. He continued to stare into Satine’s eyes, and when she broke contact to glance at Rider as he sat on the edge of the bed, Desmond said, “Fine. Take it.” Bundt snatched the sword away, stepping back like he was afraid even unarmed Desmond could overtake him. “Now,” Rider said, dark amusement filling his eyes as he leaned forward to take Satine’s hand. She flashed on a similar moment in the ballroom of her parent’s house. “Let us all just calm down and approach this like adults.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand and she shivered. “What do you say?

Chapter 51

Plenty of responses to that question ran through her head, but none of them made it out of her mouth. The second he’d touched her, made eye contact, the world around them fell back, bringing Rider into sharp focus like the first special effect any good film student ever learned. In a rush, he was suddenly just--there. And she couldn’t look away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Electricity swirled unseen around her in a warm crackling embrace. Whatever he was doing, he was right about one thing. It didn’t hurt. “I ask,” he said, continuing to stroke her hand, “only for one thing in return.” Satine blinked slowly, feeling sluggish. “W-what?” His eyes grew even darker, and Rider leaned forward to run a finger along her cheek. Heat coursed through her body. Her heart pounded. It only got worse when he whispered, “A kiss.” She didn’t know how he was doing it. So far she had no evidence to suggest he was a vampire. Then again, she’d been miles off target with Micah and Kenji. Was it the spell? Did he know how to tap into it? Use it to his own advantage? Or was it something else? Something worse. “Rider--” Desmond’s warning cut through the daze, and for a second Satine was herself again. It didn’t last long. “Patience, Desmond,” Rider drawled, piercing her gaze even deeper than before as his hands slid up her arms. “Your turn will come in a minute.” The power of his touch oozed up her arms and she couldn’t stop staring at him. She blinked slowly, mind going completely blank. What did he want again? Before she could stop him, Rider was kissing her. Hard. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. An explosion perhaps, maybe an earthquake, or at the very least a flash of realization. Instead, she got the burning back. Oh yay. What happened next, she would only understand later. Somewhere in her skull, a scream ricocheted. Was that her voice? There was crashing and thudding, cursing, then total nothingness. No thoughts, no sounds, no feeling, and then-FLASH!

In a blinding white light of feeling and sound, she was back. And Desmond was kissing her. “Satine? Satine!” Strike that, he wasn’t kissing her, he was giving her CPR. His hair fell down around his narrowed expression, hands thrusting against her heart in fierce determination. She suddenly gasped awake, falling back into her senses and sucking in air like she hadn’t breathed in months. She shot up and began flailing wildly, coughing, completely disoriented. Pain, relief, confusion, shouting--When had Micah arrived? She didn’t know if they were being held hostage, attacked or--wait, was that a lamp breaking? And hadn’t the door already been broken down? She tried to get her mouth to say something, but her airway wanted nothing to do with such trivialities as forming words. It was too busy remembering how to breathe. All she could do was sit there, cling to Desmond, and hope nobody accidentally beheaded either of them in the process. “Breathe with me,” Desmond said, his voice unexpectedly calm and soothing in the chaos. He laid the palm of his hand just above her sternum, holding her gaze and breathing slowly in and out…in…and out…She focused on synching her breaths with his, and was soon able to breathe without the panicked fish-out-of-water feeling. It was only then that she realized the chaos had stopped. The fighting was over, and Quinn and Kenji were standing at the end of the bed looking concerned. Micah, on the other hand, was standing near the open balcony doorway, swearing under his breath as he brushed what looked like ash off his front. The movement caused the sword he was still holding to come into view, and the glint of the setting sun highlighted the blood on the blade. Not a lot, but enough to hurt whoever had been on the receiving end of it. She felt vaguely bad for hoping it was Bundt. What kind of vampire name was Bundt anyway? Micah must have realized they were all now staring at him, because he turned around and grinned at Satine. “We just can’t take you anywhere, can we?” Despite everything, she laughed. Micah was still Micah. Nothing had changed. “Guess there’s never a dull moment when I’m around,” she answerd. “You can bloody well say that again." She'd never seen Quinn so angry. “What were you thinking leaving the room by yourself? You could have been killed. Or worse.” He looked at Desmond. “Both of you.” “It’s my fault.” Well that was unexpected. Satine studied Desmond. Was he being serious? It didn’t sound like he was being sarcastic, but she could never really tell. Brow furrowed, he stared at the wall behind her and said, “I should have gone with her.” “No.” This wasn’t his fault and she wasn’t going to let him take the blame. “I promised to hurry. I should have known something was wrong when our ice machine was broken.” “It does not matter whose fault it was,” Kenji said quietly. “Rider would have found you either way.” The room grew somber. “He was at my parent’s house,” Satine said, wincing as she sat up. Desmond made a move to help her, but suddenly stopped. He climbed off the bed instead. “Rider?” Quinn asked. “Yes, at the party.”

The conversation continued, but Satine faded out, struck by how much more vibrant the colors in the room were. Maybe it was just the fading sunlight finally being let into the room, but the curtains practically glowed gold. The royal blue bedspread glittered like smooth sapphire, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers over the satiny fabric. It was a lot softer than usual… “Satine?” Micah who broke her concentration. “Sorry, what?” She looked up to find herself once again the center of attention. Well, almost the center. Desmond was staring intently out the window, his back to her. “You okay?” She answered a distracted, “Sure,” and Quinn followed her gaze. “Des?” he asked, “You okay?” “We should get out of this room before security shows up,” Desmond said, continuing to stare out the window. Micah glanced at the busted-down door and said, “We better hurry. The woman a few rooms down is already calling to complain.” Satine didn’t ask how he knew that, just got up (glad her legs worked), and followed them all back upstairs.

Chapter 52

“Shouldn’t we be packing up and leaving?” Satine asked once they were back in Desmond’s room. Kenji had refilled the ice bucket on the way back up, but no one felt much like drinking anything. He set it on the counter anyway and went to check the locks on the balcony door. “Rider won’t be back,” Desmond said solemnly, standing next to the table and looking down at the map where he'd left it. “He got what he wanted.” “I don’t understand. All he wanted was a kiss?” More looks were passed around the room, and Satine wondered how many more times they were they going to have to save her life before she was allowed into the club. Desmond didn’t answer her, and as usual, Quinn was left trying to explain. He seemed uncharacteristically agitated, when he said, “It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a trigger.” “A trigger for what?” Micah stepped in. “Before now, you were relatively low on the radar, only a handful of people knew who you were and how to find you.” “And now?” “Now you’re pretty much a broadcasting, walking magnet,” Quinn said. He went over to check the lock on the balcony even though Kenji had just done so. “I still don’t understand.” And why was he so antsy? “A magnet for what?” Back at the table, Quinn picked up the compass and tugged on his collar. Satine couldn’t stand it anymore. “Quinn, what is wrong?” He jumped. “What? Nothing.” He set the compass down. “Don’t give me that, you’ve been acting strange ever since you got back.”

“It’s the spell,” Micah explained. “Not only will you be increasingly drawn to Des, you’re gonna be a major, uh…” he glanced sideways at Quinn and settled on, “distraction, for others.” Satine looked from Micah to Kenji and back. “How come you two don’t seem to be affected?” Micah’s smile was endearing. “There are certain advantages to who we are.” Vampires. Right. It was going to take a while to get used to that. Before they could segue into awkward silence, Desmond changed the subject, asking if Micah, Kenji, and Quinn had found anything while they were out. It was back to business, and Satine was thankful for the distraction. Now that Micah mentioned it, she was feeling a stronger pull towards Desmond, and it was hard to ignore. She could also sense Quinn in a way more than normal. Would she now have a similar effect on every random man she passed on the street from here on out until the spell was broken? Well tack on getting jumped by every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wasn’t a vampire to her growing list of problems. She should probably get a notebook to keep track of them all--the problems that is, not the men who were supernaturally attracted to her. Although that list was growing too. “If we leave now we can still make it,” Micah finished, and Satine mentally rewound the conversation she’d just faded out on to find out where they were going. A club was it? “She’s going to want to see you,” Micah was saying to Quinn and Desmond, and from the looks on their faces, neither man was thrilled about going anywhere. When he didn’t get an answer, Micah said, “You know she’s not going to talk if we don’t all show up.” Quinn and Desmond shared a grim lack of enthusiasm. “He’s right.” “I know.” “This day just keeps getting better and better.” Here’s hoping they’d all live through it. With no other choice, the team headed out.

Chapter 53

The trip down the elevator was uncomfortable, the drive to the club was worse. By the time they arrived at Enigmatico, the place they were to meet with Micah’s contact, Desmond, Quinn, and Satine couldn’t have been happier to be anywhere but trapped in that confined space of a car together. The vehicle had barely come to a stop before Quinn jumped out, and Satine felt every nuance of Desmond’s movement as he slipped out the other side after him. She really hoped whoever they were meeting could help, because she didn’t know how much longer any of them could stand it. Micah and Kenji led the way, and after passing through the first entrance, Satine realized why Micah had insisted they all change clothes before coming. When she had first heard they were going to a club called Enigmatico, a certain picture had formed in her head--one of underground entrances and kids with spikes in their chins, wearing too much mascara. Instead, she was met with a nondescript quiet entrance and a pleasant man

dressed in a tux waiting to escort them through an elegant, dimly lit room soaked in jazz. People chatted quietly in booths and at high tables as candlelight flickered off an intriguing collection of (hopefully normal) mirrors lining the far wall. The women were draped in diamonds, and the men were actually looking into their eyes when they spoke. Satine glanced down at the beautifully cut black dress Micah had picked up for her and relaxed. Here she could at least blend in. This she knew. Growing up a Tierney, Satine could mingle with the best of them. She had long ago perfected the smile-and-nod technique, and looking around the room now, she knew it was going to come in handy tonight. They were led through a velvet lined curtain and down a thickly carpeted hallway, jazz music trialing after them. The hallway was narrow, and walking behind Desmond, Satine couldn’t not inhale the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Her step unconsciously quickened as it drew her near, and beside her, arm in arm, Kenji gently pulled her back to his side. Blushing when she realized what she was doing, Satine nodded a thanks to him. He smiled back and continued to escort her to a second set of doors. The man in the tux who had met them at the first door stopped to talk to another man, this one dressed just as elegantly (if only it were a century or two earlier), and after swiping his cool blue eyes over them, gestured for Micah to step forth. The rest of the group held back. Micah went to talk to the second bouncer, and Satine wanted to ask Kenji what to expect on the other side of the door. She didn’t know just how good vampire hearing was, though, and kept quiet. No sense in broadcasting her anxiety to everyone before she was even inside. A few more seconds, and they were being escorted into another room, this one much like the first, only darker and even more intimate. The instant she stepped through the threshold she could feel it. The power. It was everywhere, gliding through the room like a seductive brush of silk. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but Satine was suddenly very glad to be on Kenji’s arm. Heads turned in their direction. Satine tried very hard to keep from looking back. On the way over, Micah had given her a crash course in vampire-human etiquette. Don’t stare, don’t look them in the eye, and whatever she did, she was not to show fear. Good or bad, they could smell it, and ninety percent of the time (whether it was for fun or something worse) would use it to their advantage. He assured her that most of the vampires she’d meet were just like people, trying to blend in and live life as normally as they could. Some, however, would see her as a prize to be won, and she was not to go anywhere without Micah or Kenji while inside the club. Out of the corner of her eye, while she was trying not to stare, Satine caught glimpses of attire that would have screamed ‘bad Halloween party’, if not for the way the people wearing them held themselves. There were cocktail dresses and ball gowns, Matrix-like trench coats and shirts draped in lace at the neck and wrists. She saw a few cowboy hats, some uniforms from various eras, and sleek barely-there dresses that hugged in all the right places. It was a true meshing of centuries, across time and cultures, and as the conversation started back up again, Satine lost track of the number of languages she could identify. The one thing everyone did seem to have in common though was the menu. The Don’t Stare rule was getting harder to obey the farther back into the room they got. Waiters were passing out drinks, but they weren’t in the form of glasses. These drinks walked on their own.

Young (willing and all over 21, Micah had been careful to point out) men and women were being escorted around the room, some actually on leashes, offering their smooth wrists to anyone who might care to sample the specialty of the house. For a little more money, you could be taken to a back lounge, where the sampling was done from more intimate places. “Sir, would you care for a drink?” a young woman in a bright pink modern cocktail dress stopped and offered her wrist to Kenji. He politely declined, and she simply smiled and moved on to a man wearing a cape behind them. Satine tried not to cringe when he accepted her offer and stood up to take her delicate pale arm in his hands. “It does not hurt,” Kenji said softly beside her. “And there are strict rules as to how much one person is allowed to donate a night.” That made her feel better, but not by much. She wondered if Kenji had ever accepted an offer himself, and forced her mind to think about something else. “She will see you,” their guide said, stopping them outside a beaded entranceway leading down another hallway. “But first,” his gaze turned to Satine and she quickly shifted hers to his chest. “She would like a moment with Miss Tierney alone.” “No.” It was the first thing Desmond had said since they’d left the elevator. “She will not be harmed. You know this.” “She doesn’t go anywhere without one of us.” “You may join her yourself in a minute or two,” the vampire said, holding his ground despite the fact that he was a good five inches shorter than Desmond. Funny that they’d picked such a small person to man the door. He must be very good at…other things. “But if you still wish a conference with her, Miss Tierney must enter alone.” Desmond glanced at Micah, who gave a slight nod, and finally said, “Two minutes.” The group parted in front of her, and suddenly Satine was more nervous than she’d ever been in her life. Then again, she’d never been meeting one on one with a clearly powerful vampire of stature before either. She hesitated too long, and soon Kenji was gently nudging her forward. She wanted to plead with him to go with her, but sucked it up and took a step forward. If this was how she was going to die, she was going to do it with dignity. Hopefully. Maybe. That is, if she didn’t fall on her face before she even got through the door.

Chapter 54

Leaving her security behind, Satine followed the vampire bouncer through the strings of beads, down the hallway, and past one of the biggest, heaviest looking carved wooden doors Satine had ever seen in her life. The intricately carved and polished animals should have hinted upon what she would find inside, but Satine was still struck by the intense African motif. The office, for lack of a better word, wasn’t that big, but the woman seated on the thronelike, claw-foot chair turned it into a palace. Satine took one look at the African beauty and her self esteem plummeted. The woman was perfection clothed in fur-lined silk. Her all-white, plunging neckline of a dress left nothing to the imagination, and was a stunning contrast and

fantastic match to her flawless dark complexion. It also highlighted the thin line of diamonds that dripped past her collarbone to end in a single emerald. If her looks alone weren’t intimidating enough, the power she gave off was enough to make Satine want to turn around and walk right back out. The woman stood as Satine was introduced, her gaze like invisible dogs circling, checking out their new prey. She kept her eyes firmly on the step leading to the throne and tried very hard not to let her pounding heart distract her from what she hoped would be a very short conversation. “So this is she,” the woman whose voice matched her appearance said, stepping gracefully down onto the plush white carpet. Satine didn’t know what to say to this, so kept quiet. Fighting the urge to curtsy, she really hoped there wasn’t some sort of introduction-to-the-queen etiquette Micah had forgotten to tell her about. Her escort bowed and left and suddenly Satine was alone with the most terrifying woman she’d ever had the fateful pleasure of meeting. “You are not at all what I expected.” That makes two of us. The woman in white continued to walk a slow circle around her. The strange prickling energy Satine was beginning to recognize as vampire followed her like an invisible sidekick, testing the waters, seeking out the identity of the newcomer. Finally, she stopped right in front of Satine, forcing her to glance up. Out of habit, Satine briefly broke the eye contact rule and quickly moved to the woman’s nose. It was very hard to have a conversation with someone while looking them in the nose. She tried switching to the chin, but that wasn’t much better. After a long unsettling moment of scrutiny, the woman finally held out her hand. “I am Nyathera, Nya. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Tierney.” “Satine,” she said, feeling a little weird shaking hands with a vampire who was probably used to being bowed to. She wouldn’t be surprised if some literally kissed the ground she walked. “Thank you for seeing us.” The corner of Nya’s blood red lips lifted ever so slightly as she replied, “Yes, I asked to see you alone, as I was not yet sure how some of your acquaintances might react.” “React?” Satine almost broke the rule again to look up and read the woman’s amusement. What would happen if she did? “Bring him in.” There was no one else in the room, yet another door opened and a man was brought in. He was tall and thin, with red hair and scared eyes. He stumbled over the huge bearskin rug in the center of the room as two vampires shoved him forward. He landed on the floor in front of Nya’s feet, and in a panicked stutter, said, “I-I’m sorry, Mistress Nya, I didn’t mean--I apologize for--“ “Get up,” she interrupted, and he struggled to his feet. The man’s hands were tied together. He took a second to right himself, then suddenly noticed Satine and froze. A strange look of confusion crossed his face and he started to back up. One of the vampires behind him stopped him, and he froze, quickly switching his attention back to the boss. “How do you feel Mr. Jacobs?” Mr. Jacobs hesitated, clearly not understanding the question, and finally nervously asked, “I’m sorry?” “Anything at all,” Nya answered smoothly. “Anything different from before?”

“I…” He swallowed hard, glancing sideways at Satine, and shifted uncomfortably. “No?” “Very well.” Nya nodded to the other two vampires, and Mr. Jacobs was escorted out. His, “Wait, what’s going on? Where are you taking me? What--“ was cut off at the closing of the door. One of the vampires was back a few moments later, and was told to bring in the rest of Satine’s party. As they waited, Nya gestured to a black and zebra print chaise lounge. “No, thank you,” Satine answered. She was too nervous to sit. Nya simply shrugged and sat down in the chair herself. The door opened and Desmond and Quinn were showed in. Satine wondered where Micah and Kenji were but didn’t ask. Without standing, Nya greeted, “Desmond. Quinnlan.” Quinn nodded in her direction. Desmond greeted her with her full name. “Nyathera.” A flash of annoyance crossed the vampire’s face, but she let it go and stood up. “It’s been a while,” she said, gliding across the carpet to trail a hand across Quinn’s chest. She moved around his shoulders then mirrored the gesture with Desmond, pausing when her hand rested above his heart. “You don’t call, you don’t write.” Desmond ignored the blood red fingernails scraping lightly down his chest and said, “Skip the niceties, Nya, can you help us or not?” She stepped back to consider them both. “Perhaps.” Satine felt a deal coming on and wasn’t disappointed. “For the right price.” Neither man looked surprised. “How much this time?” Desmond asked, and the other vampires from before was back. Satine did her best to look invisible. Nya pretended to think about it, all the while continuing her languid panther-like saunter around them. She cast a glance at Satine, then stopped In front of Desmond and smiled. “Four,” she said. Quinn actually looked surprised. “Four?” “Each.” He mumbled something that sounded like, “that’s more like it,” but before Nya could answer, or Satine could ask, “Four what each?”, Desmond said a curt, “Fine.” Without looking at Satine, he added, “But not from Miss Tierney.” “Desmond,” Nya chided, giving her nails a bored look. “You speak as if I don’t know who she is.” “It’s because I know you do that I speak.” For the first time, it occurred to Satine that he was looking the vampire in the eye. Was it some sort of built-up tolerance, or more of a mutual respect thing? She cast a look at Quinn. He too was looking Nya in the eye. Curiouser and curiouser. “None from Miss Tierney,” Nya agreed. Her waiting vampires stepped forward to escort Desmond and Quinn out, and Satine suddenly realized what they were talking about. Blood. The deal was blood. Horrified, she wondered, Four units? Liters? Pints? Just how much blood could one person lose at a time and still be okay? Before they could reach the door, Nya casually added, “Oh, and one more thing.” Everyone turned, and Satine held her breath. She didn’t even know the woman, but she got the feeling that Nya was the type to drop the bomb at the end of the conversation--a big finish just as everyone felt almost safe on their escape.

The silence coaxed her onward, but Nya relished the moment, gliding lazily around the room and waiting until even the two vampires at the door exchanged a look. She finally came to a stop in the center of the room and said, “A kiss.” Nobody said anything. What was it with these people and kisses? First Rider’s triggering and now Nya. If things kept going the way they were, Satine would be paranoid about kissing for the rest of her life! “Very well,” Desmond said, calmly facing her. “From whom?” “Each of you.” Desmond looked at Quinn, who shrugged and stepped forward, apparently unbothered by kissing a woman who wanted his blood. Hopefully this wasn’t her way of acquiring it. Nya moved towards Quinn, letting the fur wrap around her shoulders drop to the crook of her elbows and exposing a vast expanse of back in the process. She was nearly as tall as Quinn in her stiletto heels, and was not shy in the least about, well, anything. Running her hands up his chest, she caught the lapels of his jacket and pressed her body against his. “Poor baby,” she said, trailing a finger along his jaw. “I can feel how much you want her, how much the spell is affecting you too.” She paused with her mouth a hair’s breadth away from his and all but whispered, “How frustrating it must be knowing you’re not the one.” Staring down at her, Quinn matched her tone. “You’re one to talk.” Nya suddenly kissed him hard, pulling him forward, and Satine looked away. If Nya went for the neck next she did not want to watch. Thankfully the vampire didn’t, and after what felt like a very long time, she eventually stepped back, lipstick still in perfect shape, when she said, “You’re reputation precedes you.” “I could say the same of you.” And that was that. Nya moved on to Desmond. The words were different, but the act was the same. Nya laid the seduction on thick, taking her time, and Satine saw what Quinn meant. She could deny it all she wanted, but Nya liked Desmond, and from the look in his eye, he would have nothing to do with her. Under normal circumstances, anyway. When Nya finally pulled Desmond forward into a slow, sultry kiss, Satine was suddenly struck with a serious case of jealousy. Where it was coming from, she had no idea (she blamed the curse), but out of nowhere she had the great urge to fling herself at Nya and yank her off. How dare that vampire take fistfuls of the hair she wanted to run her fingers through! By the time Nya finally backed off, Satine was hopping mad and hating herself for it. She had no doubt Nya’s heightened vampire senses could tell exactly what that kiss had just done to her. She was probably laughing to herself right this minute. Satine fought back her childish feelings and tried her best to put on a passive face when Nya turned to address her. Lifting an offering hand, Nya said only, “Satine?” What, was she supposed to judge the kissing or something? “Nya,” Desmond warned, but she ignored him. “The deal was a kiss from each of you.” Her sharp eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned back to face him. “With so much desire and magic swirling around this room, I’m surprised you don’t want it.” Nya’s muscle men stepped forward, but she held up a hand. “I’ll let Miss Tierney decide whose kiss she would like first.” First? Satine swallowed hard. She’d been doing her best ignoring the curse so far, but as the day wore on (and this was turning out to be one long day), it was getting harder to restrain

herself from giving in. Even now, just being in the same room as Desmond, she could barely keep her eyes off him, let alone her lips. If she was going to kiss him, it might just be the last straw. And then there was Quinn. Poor Quinn was doing his best to ignore whatever supernatural attraction he too was now feeling, and Satine didn’t know what kissing him would do to either of them. Would it bring back the burning? She’d do anything to avoid that again. They were all looking at her. Even the vampires at the door. “I…” Satine’s mind raced. Desmond or Quinn? Quinn or Desmond? Nya had said “first”, so apparently it was going to be both of them either way. “It should be Des,” Quinn said suddenly, saving her from having to choose. “We don’t know if the burning will come back, and I for one don’t want to test what could happen if it doesn’t either.” “You came here for my help, did you not?” Nya asked. “How are we to know how to break the spell if we are not even sure what it can do?” “You already know what it can do,” Desmond answered with a narrowing of his eyes. He was beginning to lose patience with Nya's game, and so was Satine. “Ah, but this is not true,” Nya answered sweetly, drawing a finger across his chest to hook through the chain around his neck. She pulled out the small vial and Satine could have sworn the room got a little darker. Nya stared up at Desmond, and finished, “We have no idea what it can and cannot do.” Satine got the feeling that they weren’t just talking about the spell. The last thing she wanted was another battle with a vampire, or in this case vampires, so Satine quickly said, “Alright, let’s just get this over with.” Ignoring the looks she got, she walked over to Quinn and let out a tired sigh. “Just kiss me. If it’s bad, at least Desmond can take it away.” She glanced at him. “Right?” Desmond and Nya were still locked in a stare-down, but slowly turned to face her. “I don’t know.” It was the first time he’d directly addressed her in a while, and the attention made her heart skip a beat. How could one voice send shivers down her spine without even trying? “But he will try.” From Nya’s tone, it wasn’t negotiable. Burning or no, Desmond was going to be kissing her, and Satine was suddenly nervous. What would happen if the burning didn’t fight Quinn? Would she be bound to them both? Would they turn against each other in fits of jealousy, feeling just as she had felt when Nya kissed Desmond? Was that Nya’s plan all along? Confused, scared, and excited all at once, Satine unconsciously licked her lips and moved towards Quinn. With a torn look in his eye, he stepped forward, gently cupping the back of her neck with one hand. He leaned forward, and she closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her. Instead, his mouth grazed the shell of her ear, testing her reaction to his touch as he whispered, “Whatever happens, Satine, don’t fight it. It’ll only make it worse.” He brushed his lips lightly against her jaw and Satine suddenly forgot all about vampires and curses and the fact that she wasn’t supposed to want this. Quinn met her gaze and smiled. “No burning?” She smiled back. “No burning.” “Can we just get on with it?” Desmond asked, uncharacteristically agitated, and Satine and Quinn exchanged a, this can’t be good, look.

With no other way to stall, Quinn shot her a silent apology and leaned down to brush his lips with hers.

Chapter 55

The kiss started out well enough. That is, until Satine began kissing back. They both tried to fight it, but when her lips opened and Quinn’s tongue swept tentatively against hers, a mass confusion of desire, power, and a million other contradicting emotions exploded between them. The spell, which had been behaving itself until then, didn’t like the confusion, and did what it did best, setting her nerves on fire and taking out her knees. Satine landed on her back on the chaise lounge, Quinn on top of her, and even through the burning, she wanted more. Forget the pain, forget their audience, she wanted relief and freedom. Freedom from the frustration, the tension, the confusion, the everything! Quinn’s hand slid to the small of her back, and she arched against him, gasping into his mouth and tugging him closer. “Satine, I--“ She cut him off with another kiss, relishing his stifled groan even as her own body felt like it was on fire. Her tongue plunged into his mouth on its own accord, and she could feel his reserve shatter. Quinn couldn’t fight it anymore, and when he returned the favor, kissing back, the burning flared in protest. With a rush, she felt all her energy being drained away, and still she couldn’t push him away. Nya was so right. The man knew how to kiss! Within seconds, the edges of her vision began to darken, and fear started to push through every other emotion. “Quinn--” she was barely able to get his name out. Stop. It was only a thought, and she didn’t know who it was for. Although it felt like an eternity, the whole thing lasted less than a minute. In a whirr, the two vampires manning the door were yanking Quinn off Satine and onto his feet. “Des,” he gasped, struggling in their grip. “I didn’t--I couldn’t--“ “It’s okay,” Desmond interrupted, maneuvering through the vampires to grip his friend firmly by the shoulders. “It’s not your fault.” “Satine--“ “Is all right,” Nya said, hand falling away from the pulse in Satine’s neck. Too weak to stand up, Satine didn’t care who found her pulse as long as she still had one. Nya stepped away, and Desmond’s voice was cold when he turned to face her. “You knew this would happen.” “I knew only of what might happen,” she countered. “We both know the uniqueness of the situation. I refuse to go on rumor alone.” “Even if it ends up killing someone in the process?” “Nobody’s dead.” “Yet.”

The temperature of the room dropped significantly. Was that ice glazing over the top of the huge mahogany desk on the other side of the room? Nya ordered a struggling Quinn out, tone clipped, and continued to stare at Desmond as she said, “He’ll be okay.” Ignoring her, Desmond stepped around Nya and knelt down in front of Satine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it happen. To either of you.” His expression softened to real concern and he carefully brushed her hair out of her face. He didn’t have to ask how she felt. If he could sense her the way she could him, he already knew. “It wasn’t your fault.” She said it even though she didn’t have to. He wouldn’t believe it anyway. For such a strong man, he sure carried around a lot of guilt. Desmond helped her sit up and sat down next to her, carefully resting his hand on hers. Strength slowly returning, Satine tried not to lean too heavily on him and asked, “What was that?” Nya answered before Desmond could. “We will have to ask Quinn when he gets back to be sure.” She gave their hands a look. “But I am afraid it appears the rumors are true.” “What rumors?” The vampire was either a very good actress, or the surprise on her face was real. “Why Desmond dear, don’t tell me you haven’t told her yet.” “If this is about whatever it was Alastair injected my mother with before I was born, then yes,” Satine said. “He has.” “That’s all well and good, but has he told you what it could do to him? Or Quinn? Or to any of them?” She assumed by “them” Nya meant humans, and had to remind herself again who she was talking to. Her brief hesitation must have translated into ‘no they haven’t’, because Nya took it upon herself to continue. “Being around you,” she said, continuing her languid stroll around the room and eventually settling on her throne. She crossed one long leg over the other and said, “Will be a constant temptation. Even more so now.” “Because of a kiss?” “Because of the spell,” Desmond clarified. “Because of what’s in your blood. Whatever Alastair injected you with, it’s been activated early by the spell doubling itself, thanks to Septimus.” “When you turn 25, which I assume is coming up quickly or you wouldn’t all be here, “ Nya said, “The…drug, we’ll call it, that has laid dormant in your system for so long with become fully potent.” “And then?” Satine asked, chest tightening with dread. Nya and Desmond exchanged a look, and for once it seemed they agreed on something. “We don’t know,” he said, standing up. “But for now you have to stay away from Quinn.” Because she was the walking drug and Quinn was now an addict. Horrified, Satine asked Nya, “Why would you do that? If you knew I could do that to him, why force Quinn to kiss me?” Nya shrugged. “Now we know it’s not just a rumor.” Anger flared through the still buzzing aftermath of Quinn’s kiss, and Satine jumped to her feet. Bad idea. Her weakened body wasn’t quite ready for a showdown, and she had to grab onto Desmond to keep from toppling on her suddenly too high heels. “I can’t believe--“ She froze. Desmond was suddenly right there, a warm, firm body beneath her hands, and Satine couldn’t think of anything but how good that body would feel

against hers. One step, that’s all it would take, just one tiny step to close the distance between them and she would be in his arms. What would happen if she kissed him? Would he be addicted to her too? Was that really a bad thing? A power much stronger than her own common sense took over, and Satine leaned in just close enough to brush her lips against the crook of his neck. Desmond tensed but didn’t move. All evidence of burning evaporated, instead replaced with a wonderful mix of comfort and yearning. Their energies mixed in a sensual hum, and Satine slowly stepped into his arms. He didn’t back away. Apparently even Desmond was starting to find it harder to fight. In a dreamlike haze, she closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, letting it wash over and through her. His heart beat loudly against her ear and Satine absently brushed her fingers down his chest. Even through the soft fabric of his shirt, there was no denying that he was one fit man. With the way he handled a sword though, he had to be. “Nya,” Desmond said in a low voice, as Satine’s other hand slid into his hair. Yep, definitely as soft as she’d imagined. “Some help here?” “Why? You seem to be doing just fine on your own.” He really was doing an admirable job not trying to advance Satine’s advances, yet she could feel how much he wanted to. “Des?” Her voice was barely a whisper as some other feeling began tugging at her consciousness. He looked down at her, eyes a ridiculously beautiful shade of blue. “Yes?” “I think…” The oddly familiar sensation was building and Satine started to back away. Oh no. Reading her change in expression, Desmond caught her around the waist. “Satine?” Even Nya had stepped forward, sensing something was wrong. “I think,” Satine repeated, not bothering to hide her sudden fear. She swallowed hard, meeting Desmond’s gaze. “He’s coming.”

Chapter 56

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than booth doors burst open. Two of the Shadows (what she was now calling the creepy Stonehenge guys hanging around with Septimus) barreled through the back as a familiar, “Des we have to go--” came through the front. A Shadow’s, “In here!” was cut off by Micah’s, “Now!”, and Satine barely had time to think, whoa, déjà vu! before Desmond was pushing her towards Kenji. A shot went off behind her and Satine ducked, glancing back just in time to see Nya fling two 6’2 grown men across the room with a simple flick of her wrist. She made a mental note never to get on Nya’s bad side. “I still want my blood,” the vampire called out after them in a perfectly normal tone, and Desmond assured her she’d get it even as he pushed Satine out the door. Hurrying down the hall with them, Micah looked around and asked, “Where’s Quinn?”

“He’s been detained,” Desmond answered, on the lookout as they passed through the beaded curtain. “He’ll meet up with us later.” “Detained?” Kenji asked, and Micah added, “I thought she just wanted to talk.” “Oh she did,” Desmond said as they made their way through Enigmatico’s elite crowd. It seemed to have grown in the short time they were in the back. He tried his best not to jostle through a rather animated group of vampires playing some sort of card game Satine didn’t recognize, and said, “But you know Nya. It’s never just anything with her.” Music started up from somewhere, and Satine sidestepped one of the only other humans in the room, this one thankfully leash-free, and bumped into a man with a hat that made him look like one of the Three Amigos. “Oh, excuse me,” she hastily apologized, and the vampire lifted a surprised eyebrow. “Zee fault eez all mine, mademoiselle,” he said in a heavy French accent, and tipped his hat at her even though he still looked a little confused. People were starting to notice Satine’s group’s hasty retreat, and as more eyes were drawn their way, Satine really hoped Micah and Kenji had made a lot of good friends here. If not, things might just be getting very ugly very soon. Even as she thought it, a man with slicked back black hair who might as well have stepped out of the movie Grease suddenly appeared in their path, spitting a toothpick out the side of his mouth. Satine really hoped the costume was just for show. “Caractacus,” he spat at Micah as two more leather-clad vampires formed rank behind him. “You been causin’ troubles again?” “Why, Billy?” Micah asked. “You lookin’ for some?” “Maybe.” Micah hitched his thumb towards the back room. “Have at it then.” Billy grinned a full-fanged grin, and nodded for his boys to follow him. Satine hung close to Desmond, Micah, and Kenji as they finally pushed their way through the human version of Enigmatico and onto the empty night street. “Wait,” she said, stopping. “If you’re all here, then who has--“ Right on cue, the car rounded the corner and pulled to a stop in front of them. The door flew open. “Get in.” “Aren’t you--“ “No time to explain,” Quinn interrupted. “Just get in!” This time nobody questioned him. Barely had the car doors shut before he floored the gas pedal and two motorcycles flew around the corner. They were followed by a dark, possibly black, something (she didn’t see it close enough to tell make or model, nor did she really care at the moment), and Satine was suddenly hit with a force strong enough to knock the wind out of her. They swerved around a narrow alleyway corner and she grabbed for the seat, catching Desmond’s shoulder instead. He whipped around to see what was wrong, caught sight of something behind her and shouted, “Right!” to Quinn, who barely made the next turn down an even narrower alley. One of the motorcyclists spun past, overcorrecting and tumbling end over end out of sight. Satine didn’t see what happened to him because she was too busy yelling, “Look out!” as the second motorcyclist appeared out of nowhere in front of them.

“Who built these streets?” Quinn grumbled, miraculously avoiding a head- on collision by shifting onto a loading ramp. The car accelerated and smashed through the back railing. It landed back on the road with a painful sounding crunch, but nothing fell off. Yay for them. Satine realized she was gripping both Desmond’s jacked and Micah’s pant leg and forced herself to relax even as her body frantically buzzed, WHAT is going on?! She didn’t blame it for freaking out as they made it onto a main road and a tingling started deep in her chest. Horns honked angrily after them as they swerved through traffic, and after 30 more seconds of increased tingling, Satine gasped, “Turn around.” “What? Why?” Quinn chanced a quick glance back at her. “Just--“ she winced, fighting between the pressure at her back and the burning in her front. “Not that way.” She pointed forward and bit her lip, trying to fight off another burning attack. If she had to choose between them, the pressure it was. “I agree,” Kenji said, frowning at the road in front of them. “We need to get off this road.” Micah rolled down the window and sniffed. “Take the next left. If we can--” BAM! Something big and heavy landed on the roof of the car. Quinn swerved to avoid hitting a pole that came out of nowhere, and suddenly they were going back the way they’d come. Well, that was convenient. Not. The ruthless motorcyclist wasn’t giving up anytime soon, and Micah had lost his patience. In one easy move, he reached out the window, grabbed a black boot and yanked the rider off. Both driver and motorcycle tumbled onto the road and through the front window of a bakery. Kenji frowned at his comrade. “I liked that place.” Micah answered a forlorn, “So did I.” “So we’ll send ‘em a check when this is all over,” Quinn said, regaining control of the car. “Now what?” They all looked at Satine and her eyes widened. “What, I’m supposed to know?” “Well you said not that way,” Quinn answered. “So which way?” She did not like this new anxious Quinn and hoped that whatever weird drug-like substance was in his system, it would wear off soon. Not that she could really blame him though. It was her fault he was on edge to begin with. “I think I just--“ she winced again, feeling like her ears were plugged. Her thoughts raced with randomness and she couldn’t think. It was as if a hundred radio stations were all vying for the frequency of her mind, and Satine could not, for the life of her, concentrate on one thing at a time. “Can we stop the car for a second?” “Gonna be sick again?” Alarmed, Micah reached for the door. “No. No, I just need to stop moving for a minute.” “Can you hold on for just a little while longer?” Did she have a choice? She nodded. “Please hurry?” Forty-five minutes later, Quinn was pulling into the driveway of a lovely old villa, complete with vineyards, stone masonry, and olive trees. “Do you guys just get together and buy a place in every country?” Satine asked, only half kidding. The place was big enough to house probably fifteen or so people, and had she felt better, Satine would have loved to go exploring. “Just the ones we get around to the most,” Micah answered with a lopsided grin. “Feeling any better?”

“A little.” The pressure had eased the further they drove, settling down into a mild heaviness in her chest. Nothing that hurt, just an annoyance--like the muscle and skin around her ribs were just a little too tight. “Why didn’t we come here to begin with?” Satine asked as Kenji opened the door and held it for her to climb out after him. “In case of a quick getaway, the rooms in town would have been closer to the airport.” He shut his door and Quinn and Desmond drove around the corner to park the car. Finally some peace and quiet. Satine closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath of crisp moonlight. How she longed for her once mundane life, her one bedroom apartment with the growing pile of unread mail and the teasing neighbor pets. Considering these past few days, she’d even go back to being Miss Tierney if it meant leaving this giant confusing mess behind. Once upon a not-so-long time ago she didn’t believe in things like vampires and curses. Now she was smack dab in the middle of a curse with two vampires as half the team of her only hope. Ignorance really was bliss. What were they going to do when Saturday came and they still hadn’t broken the spell? Probably not enjoy a good Sunday, that was for sure. Satine stared up at the moon and wondered if Quinn and Desmond were going to avoid her the rest of the night. They’d had more than enough time to park the car. Joining Micah and Kenji on the stone steps of an arched walkway, Satine asked, “You think they’re okay?” “Can’t say we’ve exactly been here before, but don’t worry,” Micah said with a comforting smile as his fingers absently played with a long blade of grass. “Whatever it is, they’ll get a handle on it.” Satine looked at him. She still couldn’t believe it, that this man was a fang-bearing, bloodsucking vampire. Granted, she’d never seen him feed on anyone. Actually, now that she thought about it, she’d never seen either Micah or Kenji eat anything. “A penny for your thoughts?” Looking away, Satine quietly asked, “Can you feel it too?” “The spell?” She nodded. “Yes.” Micah tied the blade of grass into a ring and looped another through it. “But I’m sure it’s much different than what Quinn and Des are feeling.” Satine glanced at the quiet Japanese man further down the steps. “Kenji?” “Micah is right,” he said, looking up at the night sky. “Whatever they are feeling now is nothing compared to what is to come.” He didn’t elaborate, so she asked, “What if we can’t break the spell? What will happen on Saturday?” Silence hovered on the cool night air. Kenji shifted his soft brown eyes to the vineyards, and Micah finished another ring before asking, “What have they told you about Alastair? About what he injected you with?” “Micah.” Kenji’s face didn’t change, but there was something in his tone, something ever so subtle that hinted a warning. If Micah heard it too, he didn’t let on. “We all have secrets.”

“Which are our own to tell,” Kenji answered, glancing sideways at his friend. He stood up. “We should move inside before it rains.” Satine looked up. Not a cloud in sight. Even so, Micah stood with a sigh and offered her a hand. She took it, and he placed the bracelet he’d just finished making around her wrist, sealing it together with the last link of grass. The childlike gesture was endearing and Satine smiled. “What’s this for?” Micah looked a little sheepish. “It’s kind of a tradition. Or maybe just a habit,” he said with a chuckle. “I used to make them for my sisters when were young. Our parents died at a very young age, and we were left to fend for ourselves.” He nodded to the bracelet. “Poor man’s charm bracelet. But my sisters used to swear they really gave them good luck.” “Thank you.” She smiled, picturing Micah trying to raise his sisters on his own. How old was he when his parents had died? “I really am going to need all the luck I can get.” “You can say that again.” Desmond came around the corner by himself. “Where’s Quinn?” “Did you get it?” Desmond asked Micah, ignoring Satine’s question. “Yes.” “Good. Then we set out first thing in the morning.” With that, he was gone. And feeling him go was like having an arm ripped off. She wanted to follow. So very badly. Couldn’t he have at least looked at her? Answered her? Knowing exactly why he didn’t, Satine forced herself to follow Kenji and Micah inside, pulling the latter vampire aside to ask, “I understand that there are things you don’t feel you can tell me about Desmond, but can you just answer one thing?” Micah stopped in the middle of a long entrance hall. The floor was polished stone; the matching walls were adorned with modern-day lanterns which cast warm glows over the huge tapestries hanging between them. The whole place had a homey/museum feel about it all. Kenji disappeared through one of the large wooden doors on the opposite wall, and Micah finally said, “I’ll do my best,” turning to look at her. “What’ll happen to us, to Desmond and Quinn and I if we can’t break the spell?” Despite the rule, Micah looked her in the eye. Unlike the other vampires she’d run into at Enigmatico, Satine felt no fear. He wasn’t trying to push his Influence on her, he was simply looking at her. “I don’t know.” Before disappointment completely overwhelmed her, he said, “But if it’s anything like the original spell, what the Greeks used to call astheneías agápia, or “love sickness”, you cannot give into it.” Satine held her breath and waited for him to continue. “I’ve seen people go insane with jealousy,” he said. “Obsessed to the point they forget everything but what they think is love. They don’t eat, they don’t sleep, and in most cases whoever instigated the curse in the first place? They become complete and total master over the other, and I do not mean in a good way.” “So one of us could end up a slave to the other?” Satine was horrified. “For how long?” Micah hesitated. “Micah…” “Life.”

Chapter 57

Satine lay staring up at the ceiling of yet another bedroom that wasn’t her own, in another situation she didn’t quite understand. Life? No wonder Desmond was avoiding her. Who’d want to be stuck with her as a slave, or worse as a slave for her, for the rest of their life? And of all the people she could be chained to forever, she did not think Desmond would like it one bit. They’d probably end up driving each other mad, if they didn’t end up killing each other in the first few weeks. She thought a second. The way they were going, better make that days. You’re too hard on him, a little voice in the back of her head argued. You’ve never even tried to get to know him. Well, he wasn’t exactly trying to get to know her either. All things considered though, could she blame him? Tugging the lovely faded blue quilt closer, Satine suddenly had the ridiculous wish for a stuffed animal. If she couldn’t be around people, being the supernatural plague she seemed to be these days, the least she could have was a nice stuffed dog, or penguin, or even a good ol’ fashioned teddy bear to huddle up with and listen to her woes. My she was pathetic now, wasn’t she? Laying in the dark considering just how pathetic she was, Satine slowly started to drift off to that lovely peaceful land of sleep. Soon she was imagining standing in a flower scented meadow, alone with the soft breeze and fluffy white clouds. A bird chirped happily nearby and she watched a family of bunnies hop after a playful pair of butterflies. Whoever received her memo about the need for some peace and relaxation sure got it right this time. Closing her eyes, Satine took in a deep breath of fresh air, deciding she’d stay here forever. “You are a hard one to track down” a woman’s rich voice suddenly said, and Satine’s eyes startled open. “Who are you?” “It doesn’t matter.” Figures. Even in her own dreams, she couldn’t get a straight answer. “What matters is that you listen,” the woman said. The stunning redhead in front of her was wearing a beautiful, breezy blue dress that shimmered and shifted hues in the afternoon sunlight. There was something ethereal about that movement, like it flowed contrary to any breeze Satine could feel on her skin. “I’m listening,” Satine heard herself say, even she thought, Where did you come from? The tall beauty with the calming presence took a moment to look her over, and Satine half expected another, “You’re not what I expected” a la Nya. Instead, the woman just smiled, held out a hand, and said, “Walk with me.” Curious, Satine followed down the hill, noticing for the first time that they were both barefoot. The grass was velvet under her toes, soft and dry despite the fresh smell of rain. As they continued down the grassy hill, trees and flowers began to ease into sight. A soft bubbling brook trickled merrily along beside them, and still the woman didn’t say anything. Finally they came to a pool so clear the sky reflected flawlessly off its serene surface, and the woman stopped. She stared off towards the horizon then turned ancient eyes on Satine. She studied her a moment, then softly, she warned, “You cannot bring them to us.”

Satine didn’t know what to say, couldn’t remember how to speak even if she did. Bring who to where? “Accept their help,” the woman continued, passing over Satine's thoroughly bewildered look, “but they cannot be allowed to find us. Especially him.” Satine hadn't even had time to process the words before the woman turned and vanished, leaving nothing but clear water and dream reality behind. “Wait!” Satine called out, finding her voice. “Who? And where? I don’t understand.” It was too late. The trees were slipping away and the sun was already dimming. She felt her feet beginning to slip and a heaviness at her back, and suddenly Satine was waking up in the bed with the blue quilt. She stared at the ceiling. Again. Confused. Again. How could such a peaceful dream leave her with such a disturbing afterthought? Leave it to her unconscious to convert swordplay and spells into a forest of bunnies and flowing blue gowns. What was the matter with her? Wide awake now, Satine sat up. There was a TV in the corner of the room, and she thought about going to turn it on, decided not to, and then ended up in front of it anyway. The remote had been left on top of a DVD player next to the TV, and when Satine reached for it, she froze. There on her wrist, where she’d forgotten to take off Micah’s bracelet, was a delicate chain of glass rings. She stared at it. it looked exactly as it had before, thin links tied together, the ends sticking out further in some places than others. Except now the grass had…what? Crystallized? Clicking on the TV for light, Satine held up her arm, afraid to move too quickly, lest she end up shattering the delicate links. She slowly rotated her wrist, watching the blue-tinged TV light bounce off the bracelet like a prism. The people in the movie in front of her bounced around, gliding from curve to curve like tiny ice skaters around her wrist. It was beautiful. But how had it happened? Had Micah done it? A light rain fell against the darkened window, and Satine carefully removed the glass bracelet. Now that the ends of each link were razor-sharp, she didn’t think it wise to leave it on. It’s amazing she hadn’t cut herself sleeping. Sleeping. The dream. Setting the bracelet on the bedside table and crawling back into bed, Satine brushed her fingers lightly over her wrist. The same wrist the bracelet had been on. The same wrist the woman in her dream had touched. Satine looked at the bracelet, still reflecting the TV people. Impossible. She fell asleep thinking the same thing--Impossible.

Chapter 58

Some dreams sneak up on you like a soft frosting of glass, a slow tug at the edges of the window to your mind, until you’re completely immersed in another world with no recollection of how you got there. And then some dreams don’t. She was shoved forward, the door slamming behind her, as she herself was slammed into-“Umph--” She recognized that grunt. “Desmond?” She’d barely gotten his name out before the room suddenly began falling down around them. Desmond lunged towards her, and it took her a few disoriented seconds to realize it wasn’t the ceiling breaking apart, but the contents of shelves being knocked to the floor. They were in a closet. She automatically reached up to protect her head, and accidentally hit Desmond in the face. He grunted again, but didn’t move, pinning her to the door, and using his own body as a shield until things had finally settled. “Sorry,” she whispered. What was it about the dark that made people whisper? He didn’t answer, and she realized his arms were still on either side of her head. “Des?” She freed her hands from beneath his chest and quickly followed his arms to his wrists. Just as she feared, they were bound together. Feeling her way back to his face, carefully this time, she found the duck tape on his mouth and ripped it off. He stiffened, but didn’t complain. Satine searched around until she finally found the light and flipped it on. They both coughed at the dust she’d sent flying into the air, and winced as the bare bulb flickered weakly then decided to stay on. Blinking dust out of her eyes, Satine looked up. “Desmond…” She could barely speak around the lump forming in her throat. Very carefully, she brushed his hair out of his face, getting a heartbreaking closer look at his injuries. “What did they do to you?” His left eye was black, nearly swollen shut, and dried blood had crusted beneath his nose and on the front of his torn shirt. His jaw was bruised, lip cut, nose probably broken. He looked like he’d been used as a human punching bag. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he said, stubborn as usual, but voice rough as sandpaper, like he hadn’t had a drink in days. “But you have to get out of here.” Even if she could, she wasn’t leaving him there. Afraid he might have other injuries, Satine turned her attention to the rest of him. She got only a brief glimpse of dried blood and torn clothing before the light went out. Asking, “Are you hurt?” seemed redundant, so she just reached out and began checking him over with her hands. If she couldn’t see if he was hurt, at least she could feel if anything needed immediate attention. Her hands swept past a rip in his shirt, brushing against bare skin and she felt him tense. “Sorry, am I hurting you?” “No.” He sounded strained. “But you must leave. Now.” “Des--“ “Unless you want to look like me in a few minutes, I suggest you try the door.” “But--“ “Do it!” Taken aback by his sudden callousness, she backed off. Something was wrong. Something that went beyond black eyes and being tied up in a closet.

The tiny room was suddenly full of a roiling anger that bordered on rage. She could feel him trying to fight it, feel her own building claustrophobia of being trapped between a locked door and a madman. But this was Desmond. She’d never been afraid of him before, should she be afraid of him now? Carefully, she tried the doorknob. No surprises there. “It’s locked,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle him. Suddenly the light flickered back on, and Desmond was standing in front of her, head lowered, eyes closed and breathing hard. His bound hands above her clenched and unclenched slowly, and for the first time, Satine realized the odd angle of his left shoulder. Immediately, she reached up to try and untie him, afraid that he’d really hurt himself if she didn’t help him pop it back into place. “Don’t,” Desmond said softly even before her hands were close enough to touch him. He rose his head to look at her. “Don’t.” “Your shoulder--” “Is nothing compared to what will happen if you untie me.” She swallowed hard. He may be able to force his voice, his face, into neutrality, but there was something in his eyes, something he was fighting very hard to hide, that, for the briefest of seconds, flickered into view and begged her to listen. It was that look that made her hesitate. “At least let me help you with your shoulder.” She reached for him, and suddenly, in the instantaneous way dreams work, he was fine. He was also no longer bound, and they were no longer in a closet. Satine grabbed Desmond when the floor suddenly gave way and they were falling--no, make that plunging--through a waterfall. Except they weren’t getting wet, and she could feel a solid surface beneath her feet, her back. She opened her eyes. They were in an elevator. A glass one. She was still clutching Desmond’s torn shirt and his face was still bruised, but not nearly as bad as it had been just moments before. They continued to fall, and right before Satine's eyes, his injuries got better. Unfortunately, the tension in the small space didn't. It wasn’t the anger she’d felt in the closet, but the swiftly changing atmosphere was just as overwhelming. Desmond was standing less than a foot in front of her, their bodies nearly touching as she continued to hang onto his shirt, and he hadn’t blinked since they plunged into the outdoors. He was staring at her and the intensity was breathtaking, hypnotic. Even with the world literally rushing away around them, even though she knew the fall couldn’t last forever and that they’d be smashed to pieces when they hit the bottom, Satine still couldn’t look away. Desire was palpable, whispering into their tiny glass box like an invisible caress, languidly curling between her fingers…around her wrist…moving up her arm. It slid past her shoulder to brush her collar bone, sending a shiver down her spine. An invisible finger traced her jaw before moving into her hair then slowly down her neck. “D-Des?” she stuttered, finding it harder and harder to breath. His jaw tensed and he flinched ever so slightly at the sound of her voice. He was concentrating just as hard on…something. The invisible silk scarf sensation glided under her arm and began its snake-like movement around her back, encircling her body at a terrifyingly slow speed.

“Don’t move,” Desmond said quietly, slowly reaching out towards her sternum as if he could see it and was getting ready to catch and stop the sensation. “What is it?” Instead of answering, he carefully touched his fingertips to her shirt, slowly lowering his palm flat against her diaphragm. Satine held her breath. The warmth of his hand oozed into the tingling sensation to wrap around her. It was comforting and disorienting at the same time. Without a word, Desmond slowly moved his hand to her side. The cocooning heat followed. He stepped carefully towards her, mouth a tongue's touch away, still deep in concentration as he pulled her forward, away from the wall. His hand slid back around the way the unexplainable sensation had come, and Satine swallowed hard. Stay still, she reminded herself. Don't panic. She closed her eyes, allowing just a moment to revel in his touch. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t trying to seduce her, or even that she knew he was mad at her--the curse was winning. She was losing her grip on reality, on herself, and whether she liked it or not Satine was still falling for him. And falling hard. Desmond walked around her twice, slowly pushing the invisible invader back, and by the time he brushed his fingers along her collarbone, she was breathless. A conversation took place in her head: Kiss him. I can’t. Why not? You know why. You know you want to. I… Desmond suddenly stopped in his tracks, hand on her throat, pulse at his fingers. The water continued to rush up around them, hitting the glass harder, and finally Desmond moved his hand to cup her cheek. He met her gaze. Her heart stopped. Just do it. Don’t you dare! They continued to stare at each other. Without a word, Desmond brushed his thumb lightly over her lips. A shiver shuddered down her spine and Satine's knees went weak. She closed her eyes, fighting to keep her balance, her common sense. But oh to be able to give in… He moved his hands into her hair and back down her neck, and she leaned into his touch, already regretting the moment he would have to let go. He took the same pathway the invisible silk had taken, curling his fingers around her arm and squeezing lightly all the way down. When he got to her hand, his fingers slowly entwined hers. She could feel the spell fighting them, trying to push through whatever Desmond was doing, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Fight it, you can do this! Desmond closed his eyes and traced his fingers all the way to the end of hers. Such strength…such intensity in that one hand. Her eyelids were growing heavy. Just when she thought he was going to let go, he suddenly grabbed her wrist, and Satine gasped as a jolt of desire flashed between them and the elevator suddenly came to the end of the waterfall with a loud booming crash!

She awoke with a start, falling out of bed and gasping for breath, clawing at thin air and expecting to find herself underwater. There was a flash of lightning outside and another loud crash of thunder, and it took Satine a good long moment to realize it was just a dream. Where she was expecting a great shattering of a glass elevator, there was just a rumble of thunder and the sound of rain hitting the window. Getting her bearings, Satine pulled herself up over the edge of the bed and into muted sunlight. Morning. It was definitely morning. She let out a long sigh, closing her eyes and sinking her cheek into the quilt. Talk about a sleepless night! She’d had some weird dreams before, but those two…well, she definitely didn’t want to think about either of them right now. Getting up, she looked around for the clock and found that it was 6:04. She tried to remember if she’d heard what time they were leaving. A knock at the door confirmed it was sometime around, oh, about now. She stood up just as the door opened, and Micah lifted an eyebrow. “Saying your morning prayers?” he asked, glancing between her and the bed. “Sorry, I…didn’t sleep very well last night.” “You too, huh?” He went over to pull back the curtains. “Must be this weather. Found Des out wandering around restlessly, told him he was crazy to be out soakin’ himself this early in the morning.” Micah yawned. “All these years, and I’m still getting used to the time change.” He smirked. “Although days like these sure make it easier.” “So the sunlight,” she asked, joining him next to the window, "it does bother you?” “We don’t burst into flames, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said with a laugh. “Although if you’re a newly turned vamp, you definitely don’t want to be living on the beach either. Takes a few years to get used to it.” She wanted to ask him how old he was, but instead said, “And now?” “Now it’s more a minor irritation. Kind of like driving into a sunset. You can put on your sunglasses and look the other way, but there’ still going to be that annoying glare in the road.” He closed the curtains. “But we’re not going to be doing much driving today, are we?” She had no idea. “Are we?” “Nobody told you?” “Well, I haven’t seen Quinn since we got here, and Des is already avoiding me, so…” Micah slapped his forehead. “Right, sorry.” He went out into the hallway and brought in a suitcase. “We got you some more appropriate attire. Hope you don’t get seasick.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?” She stopped him at the door before he could escape. “We’re going on a boat?” Micah’s face fell. “You do get seasick.” “No, my brother has a boat. I just meant--“ she glanced at the window and back, “in this weather?” “Saturday isn’t going to wait for the weather.” True, very true. She agreed to meet them downstairs in fifteen minutes, and turned to the suitcase. She didn’t get seasick normally, but another flash of lightning and a gust of wind had her hoping someone had packed some Dramamine in there anyway.

Chapter 59

Although from afar she looked like she’d seen better days, The Wishing Star turned out to be a safe, sturdy, and technically savvy lady. Sadly, Satine could not fully appreciate the restored interior or specially fitted technology without being flung all over it. She grabbed a nearby chair, envying it for the bolts holding it sturdily to the floor, and breathed deeply through her nose. She’d never thrown up on a boat before, she wasn’t about to start now. “How do we know where we’re going?” she asked, averting her eyes from the sight out the window and sitting down. Angry waves crashed against the front of The Wishing Star, and she tried not to think about the lightning. “If we’re not even really sure where it is?” she finished. “We’ll know it when we get there,” Quinn answered, navigating expertly through the choppy waters. He was in a surprisingly good mood this morning. Maybe Nya’s vampire muscle men and those “four” whatevers of blood they’d taken had something to do with it, but at least they could now stand to be in the same room with each other. Thankfully they’d been so busy just trying to get to and on the boat, that there had been no time for the awkward, ‘I’m sorry I made out with you and now you’re addicted to me’ conversation. She really would have to apologize once they made it back to dry land. If they made it back. “What’s this guy doing?” Micah suddenly said, glaring out the window at an oncoming boat. “Does he have a death wish?” Satine glanced up to see the black speedboat approaching dangerously fast. There was no one else in sight and plenty of room for both boats to maneuver the wide open space without getting anywhere near each other. Yet the boat was headed directly towards them. Even in this weather they had to see The Wishing Star. Her stomach did a summersault, and this time it wasn’t due to the wind and the waves. “You think they’re trying to hit us?” “Looks like it,” Quinn said. He started reaching for the radio, but Desmond stopped him with a hand. Quinn looked up. “What?” “Let them get a little closer,” Desmond answered, watching the oncoming boat bounce over the waves. “I want to get a better look.” Satine glanced between him and the boat and back, wondering just how close a look he wanted. A few more minutes and it’d be a lot closer than any of them wanted. Kenji must have seen the worry on her face, because he leaned over and said, “Don’t worry. Desmond has quite good eyesight. He won’t need to get much closer.” He smiled and Satine laughed nervously. “Good to know.” She turned her attention to him. Despite the constant rocking and rolling of The Wishing Star, Kenji stood freely, leaning casually up against a counter full of carefully attached radar equipment like nothing out of the ordinary was going on at all. “Where’s your boat?” she asked, knowing a good pair of sea legs when she saw them. He smiled again and it relaxed her. “I do have a few here and there. My father was a fisherman in Japan. I spent many years of my childhood out on the water.” “You and my brother should talk some time,” she said, grabbing a nearby table to keep her chair from swinging around as another wave hit. She’d been on a good number of boats in her life, but never during such a bad storm. She made a mental note not to get a waterbed after this.

The oncoming speedboat kept coming, and soon Satine was on the edge of her seat, just waiting for the inevitable collision. She kept waiting for someone to say something, something like, “Look out!” or “Hang on!”, but these guys had apparently been around each other for so long they no longer needed conversation for these kind of moments. She on the other hand, would have at least liked a few seconds warning if they were going to crash into something. The boat got closer and closer until even Satine could see that it wasn’t going anywhere else, and just when she thought they were surely going to hit, Quinn glanced at his friend, and Desmond nodded. By some miracle, Quinn was able to catch the next wave, and ride it up and out of the way. He avoided the crash, but not before Satine nearly broke all her fingernails holding on for dear life. She let out a long breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding and sat back. “Please tell me you got a good enough look.” “I second that,” Micah said, looking up from a screen he’d been watching. “They missed us by less than a foot.” “Who’d be out in this weather?” she asked, not really expecting an answer, and mumbled, "Aside from us, of course."

Chapter 60

The storm had finally died down, leaving Satine with only a mild case of dizziness. She’d gotten so used to the violently shifting constant back and forth that the slow rock of the calming sea took some getting used to. Now that visibility was better and they were alone on the water, she decided it might be safe to let go of the chair and relax. Well, as much as she could, considering the new distraction in front of her. Kenji had excused himself to the cabin that served as a library and Micah had gone to check to make sure everything was still intact everywhere else. This left Satine alone at the table with a laptop and a very good view. Quinn, comfortable behind the wheel, had pressed some buttons and leaned back, causing the entire cabin to fill with beautiful music. It was mostly piano and cello, a violin or flute here and there, but all instrumental. At least her companions had fantastic taste. A relaxing cello warmed through hidden speakers, and Satine looked over at Desmond. He was flipping through the pages of another old book that looked on the verge of disintegrating, occasionally glancing over at a digital oceanographic map on the screen next to him. Neither man looked like they were the least bit distracted with her, but she sure was with them. Quinn still carried a ‘Warning: Power Drainage!” prickly feeling every time she concentrated too hard on him, and yet had he hinted at another kiss, she probably would have taken him up on it. And then there was Desmond, the ever present reason she was on constant edge and the one who was ignoring her completely today. What else was new? Needing something to do with her hands, Satine got up and decided to make an early lunch. She never got the chance, because at that same moment, Desmond suddenly said, “Stop.” Thinking he was talking to her, she turned around. He wasn’t. He stood up and handed Quinn the book. “We’re here.”

Everyone began moving like a well-oiled machine, preparing to anchor the boat, getting Quinn ready for the dive. What had been a choppy dash through the waves and then a relaxing afternoon at sea, suddenly became all business. Satine moved to help Micah adjust the air tanks, but, to her surprise, Desmond brushed past, mumbling, “I need to talk to you,” before disappearing down the hall. She stared after him. He needed to talk to her? Alone? She glanced at Micah, who just shrugged, and decided she better not keep Desmond waiting. Good or bad, she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to talk to the man who, as the days wore on, seemed more and more determined to ignore her very existence. Taking a deep breath, she headed down the hall. The door shut and she spun around. He stood there, back to her, staring at the closed door. His hand was still on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned around to face her. Even slower, he met her eyes. Satine’s breath caught. He didn’t even have to say anything, could stand there glaring at her, shouting, or doing flips for all she cared--he was there. And the spell recognized him instantly. It was strange the varying reactions she had to him. Sometimes it was comfort, familiarity and protection, other times it was all things deliciously dark and dangerous. But every time there was always attraction. The need to be close to him was overwhelming and getting to be downright irritating. She could barely think when he was in sight, let alone in the same room as her. And now he was here. With her. At sea. In this suddenly very small cabin. The air in the room crackled with energy, and when Desmond spoke, he got right to the point. “Do you know how to drive this boat?” It wasn’t what she was expecting. “I know the basics of driving a boat and have been on my brother’s,” she said. “But it’s been a while, why?” “Because if anything goes wrong here--“ “I’m not leaving you guys down there.” He took a step towards her. “You might have to.” She studied him a second then stepped towards him too. “What’s down there?” “If our calculations are right, the man we’re looking for.” He tracked her with his eyes, watching her lean against the edge of the bunk bed. “And you’re just going to go have a little chat with him and leave me up here all alone?” “No.” He shifted his gaze to the map on the far wall. “You don’t trust Kenji and Micah?” “Of course I do.” Desmond was looking at her again and Satine suddenly wanted to walk over and finish what she’d started at Enigmatico. How was he able to ignore it? Whenever he looked her directly in the eye, the effect was immediate. Her heart leapt and her knees went a little weak, and Satine cursed her body silently and laid a hand on the bed post. Just in case. “Which is why,” he said seriously, moving another step towards her, “you’re going to have to make them leave if that speedboat returns.” “And just how am I supposed to do that?” She didn’t see how her ridiculous powers as a walking aphrodisiac for human men would help her at all in trying to convince two vampires to leave Desmond and Quinn under the ocean and hightail it out of there. “Actually, I don’t think it’ll be that difficult.”

Satine and Desmond both swung around to find two familiar figures standing in the doorway. How they’d gotten on the boat without anybody noticing was a mystery, but the fact that they were there meant serious trouble for everyone.

Chapter 61

Rider and Bundt, the horribly named vampire sidekick with the bad breath, walked in, closing the door behind them. The jagged scar on Bundt’s left arm drew her attention, and Satine said, “I thought vampires were supposed to be fast healers.” Bundt glanced at his arm, tugged his warn leather jacket further over the scar, and glared at her. “That vampire’ll be payin’ for it soon enough.” Satine thought about the ash and blood Micah had been brushing off him the last time they’d run into these two and really hoped he’d brought his sword out on the water. She also hoped he, Kenji, and Quinn were okay. As if reading her mind, Rider’s mouth curled into dark amusement. “Your friends have run into a little…equipment malfunction.” He leveled his gaze at Desmond. “I do hope Quinn is good at holding his breath.” Desmond didn’t rise to the bait, but stepped in front of Satine. Rider jerked his head towards Satine and ordered, “Bundt.” The vampire eagerly stepped forward, and Desmond cut him off with a warning, “Touch her and you die.” “Des, Des, Des.” Rider sighed, casually pulling out a 9mm handgun and brushing his fingers across the top before checking the bullets. “How many times are we going to go through this?” Desmond glanced at the weapon. “Since when do you use a gun?” “Oh this isn’t for me.” He tossed it to Bundt, who had drawn a sword in that short amount of time and was now aiming it at Satine. The gun was pointed at Desmond. Rider shrugged. “Can’t be too careful nowadays.” “Move,” Bundt ordered, but Desmond ignored him. “So Alastair actually believes it this time?” he asked Rider, a sarcastic bite to his tone. “That you will bring her in?” “I doubt it,” Rider took another step. “But right now none of that really matters, does it?” He was now just out of arm's reach and staring at Satine. His cold eyes bore into her in such a claustrophobic way she had to look away. “Satine,” he said with a slight bow, addressing her like he’d just now noticed she was in the room. “Would you be so kind as to check our friend here for the many weapons I’m sure he’s hiding beneath that well-tailored jacket of his?” Oddly enough, the thought of running her hands over Desmond’s body brought more fear than the thought of Bundt’s sword or gun running through them both. She wasn’t a fool, she knew exactly what Rider was doing, and from the look on both his and Desmond’s faces they knew it too.

“Come on now Des, it’s not that difficult.” Rider grabbed his collar, spun him around, and shoved him forward. Desmond braced himself on the top bunk bed and a built-in shelf before he was pushed into her. Satine held perfectly still, afraid of any sudden movement. She forced herself not to look at him, to concentrate on a spot over his shoulder, because the constant buzz between them had suddenly ramped up to a fiery need, threatening to overwhelm everything they’d worked so hard to fight. Rider nodded to Bundt, and the blade of the sword pressed closer to her neck, just shy of drawing blood. She gritted her teeth to keep from wincing. If everyone was right, Rider wouldn’t kill her. Not yet anyway. For whatever reason, he wanted her alive, and right now that was pretty much the only thing keeping her panic under control. She swallowed hard. It's all in your head, stop freaking out. Slowly, all too aware of what she was doing, Satine met Desmond’s eyes. Heat. Fire. It's not--this is real, this is happening. Time seemed to slow down. Their eyes were locked and the intensity of Desmond's gaze radiated off him like waves of heat. For the first time, Satine saw raw desire. So he was feeling it. I knew it! Somehow though, Desmond managed to force it back, hooding his emotions quickly, and looked away. He was far better at this than she would ever be. “Get a move on, then,” Bundt ordered, and she tried not to wince as the sword nicked her skin. Desmond started angrily towards Bundt, but Satine quickly placed a hand on his chest to stop him. No sense in getting them both killed over a little scratch. “Bundt.” Rider waved the sword away. “I don’t think either of them will be making a run for it anytime soon.” The vampire backed off, but stayed close, weapons still drawn as a warning. He wasn’t taking any chances this time around. Rider smiled at her. “Go ahead.” Glaring at him, Satine slid her hands beneath Desmond’s coat, and began patting him down. She found two throwing knives, a 9mm, something that looked like a memory stick from a digital camera and--ah, so that’s where he kept his sword. She placed them on the bed and stood back up. Desmond’s arms were still on either side of her head, making it almost impossible to back away. She also couldn't help but steal glances at his face, and it took everything she had not to reach up and brush that stubborn lock of hair off his forehead--if nothing else, just so she could touch him. “Check his pockets.” “I did.” “All of them. Thoroughly.” Rider said the last word with such a pompous smirk, that Satine angrily shoved her hands back into Desmond’s coat pockets and turned them inside out. Glaring at Rider, she moved to the inner pockets. One thing was true, the coat had been expertly tailored. It fit Desmond like a glove, and had she not been looking, Satine never would have realized how many inside pockets there really were. Wonder what he keeps in all of them… She quickly ran her hands over each one, finding nothing, then realized Rider was waiting for her to check Desmond’s pants pockets as well. She hesitated. Well, there was no sense in prolonging the inevitable.

Unable to look him in the eye, Satine carefully slid one hand into Desmond's right pocket. Her finger brushed the edge of a piece of paper, and for a moment she was distracted from this tempting invasion of Desmond’s personal space. She looked up at him through lowered lashes, silently asking if it was something Rider could have. The slightest shake of the head, so slight she almost missed it, had her moving on to the next pocket without a word. She found that one empty. “Nothing,” Satine said, relieved to have that over with. “And the back ones?” Rider asked, thoroughly amused. Satine shot him a dark look, but managed to keep her mouth shut in reply. Determined not to let him or the spell get the best of her, she leaned forward to check Desmond’s back pockets. This turned out to be a lot harder than anticipated, and Satine practically had to lean into his chest to do so. Her hands slid into his back pockets and she silently thanked the inventor of wellfitting dark jeans. Yep, the man really was all muscle. Rider suddenly grabbed a fistful of Desmond’s hair and forced his mouth to within a horribly tempting inch away from hers. Satine jumped in surprise, automatically jerking her hands back and Desmond closed his eyes. Unfortunately her hands hadn't made it out of his pockets, and even as her own heart stopped and a thrill shot through her body, Satine felt him still, taking in a slow, measured breath. The man had amazing restraint, that was for sure. The room itself seemed to hold its breath as she stood there, trapped. She loved the way he smelled, the feel of his breath against hers. Her eyes flickered unconsciously to his lips. They were so close... Satine swallowed hard and certainly would have leaned in the rest of the way if she could have. The only thing stopping her from kissing Desmond right now was the deadly reminder suddenly back at her throat. The cool metal threatened to bite into her skin should she make any sudden movements. “Like I said before,” Rider whispered into her ear, still holding Desmond in front of her. “There is another way out.” His hot breath brushed her neck. “You can end this now. No more burning, no more suffering…” He slid a finger down her arm and goosebumps followed. Suddenly she wanted to do exactly what he suggested. Wanted to just lean forward and--“Wait.” She glanced sideways at Rider. “Why would you want to help me?” “He doesn’t,” Desmond growled, opening his eyes and sending another shiver of an entirely different kind down her spine. “He knows exactly what will happen.” Though he was talking to Rider, he was staring at her, hard. His eyes flitted towards Bundt and Satine realized he was trying to tell her something. Did he have a plan? Of course he does, she chastised herself. It’s Desmond. “Then again,” Rider said with a shrug. “Maybe I don’t.” With his free hand, he reached down and took Satine’s wrist, guiding her fingers out from Desmond’s back pocket. Bundt let out a low laugh as he watched Rider guide her hand around Desmond’s hip. She tried to pull away but couldn’t, and when her hand slid towards the inside of his thigh, Desmond suddenly jerked out of the way. Satine didn’t hesitate. She ducked at the same time Desmond grabbed Rider’s wrist, freeing Satine and shoving Rider into Bundt. Rider knocked the vampire off balance and the sword out of his hand. Satine jolted towards the fallen weapon, and a shot rang out. “Go!” Desmond shouted, and she forgot the gun, making a beeline for the door instead. She barely got it open before another bullet slammed into the wood, not two inches off target. Satine

ripped the door open then stopped. Was she really just going to leave him like that? The sword was still close. She tried to remember everything they’d taught her. “Satine, go!” Desmond yelled again, struggling to keep Rider down and hold off Bundt at the same time. He was right. No time. This time she went. Out of the doorway and into a--BOOM!

Chapter 62

A ball of fire shot down the hall, just barely missing her head. Had she been a few inches taller, she’d have something in common with a certain famous horseman, and Satine dived for the floor as all the oxygen in small space was suddenly sucked up then returned as the fireball shot back down the way it came. “What the--“ Micah flew around the corner, gun in one hand, a wrench in the other, and only half dressed. His wetsuit hung open at his waist and he was kicking at a flipper as he headed towards her. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear him over the racket of alarms, shouting, and bullets ricocheting off the walls. She scrambled up to go tell Micah what was going on, but was grabbed by the ankle and dragged through the thickening smoke in the opposite direction. Her eyes burned, tearing up, but even coughing, she managed to finally kick her attacker in the face, climbing back to her feet. Standing was not such a good idea, and where she had problems breathing, a vampire apparently did not. “Don’t even think about it,” Bundt growled as she reached for a huge piece of wood that had been blasted off in the explosion. It looked like part of a cabinet door, but she couldn’t be certain in this visibility. Bundt ripped the jagged wooden stake from her hand and threw it across the room, grabbing her roughly around the waist and pinning her to him, gun at her temple. “Time to go!” he shouted in her ear, and Satine was dragged through the choking smoke and broken bits of boat, outside, and literally thrown onto the deck of another boat. She landed with a grunt on hard wood, and had just enough time to think, This isn’t the speedboat we saw before, before Bundt grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her to her feet again. Fed up with being dragged around like a ragdoll, Satine rammed her elbow into his stomach, stomping her heel down on his foot before he could get out of the way. The vampire shouted something that was lost on the wind, and Satine realized for the first time how dark it’d gotten since the last time she’d seen the sky. How long had they been on the water, anyway? The rain was back. She slipped on the deck as Bundt shoved her forward, regaining his unnaturally strong grip on her hair--why was it always the hair?--and after a minute more of struggling to get her inside, lost his patience and threw her up against the railing. Jerking her head back, he forced her to look at him. “Don’t worry,” he said with a sneer, reveling in the fierce beating of her frantic heart. “If you are who they say you are, this shouldn’t hurt.” His sneer deepened to a terrifying fang-filled grin as he added, “Much.”

“Satine!” She heard it, far-off, a warning, but it was too late. Bundt had forgone all orders to keep her alive, or at least unharmed, and although Micah was fast, he wasn’t that fast. She didn’t see him leap between boats, because Bundt’s fangs were already sinking into her neck. She screamed before she could stop it and tried in vain to shove him away. It was like trying to move a brick wall. Useless. And he’d lied, it did hurt. A lot. She collapsed against the railing, vision blurring as Bundt finally got what he’d wanted this whole time. She felt her blood leaving her like the actual life being sucked out of her, and all she could think was, DO something! Anything! Stop him! But she was paralyzed, her body no help at all to her screaming mind, and soon thought, Oh it’s not so bad. More like a giant mosquito really… She was fading fast, but it was this thought that shocked her back into reality and fighting mode. Is this really how you want to die? No, no it wasn’t. Kicking and pounding with all her might, shouting and screaming, Satine fought with everything she had in her. If she was going down, it wasn’t going to be easy, and it certainly wasn’t going to be because of a vampire with bad hygiene! It took only a few seconds to see that her efforts were laughably bad. In her mind, she was a great warrior, capable of fighting off even the undead. In reality, she was dying. And fast. Lying there in the rain like the very ragdoll image she had despised so much. Great. Just great. So much for her training. They would all be so disappointed in her. Like all good near-death experiences should go, her mind skipped randomly through various flashes of her past, too fast to focus on anything, and she vaguely thought about how awful it would be for her family to see her body like this--soaking wet, fang marks in her neck. Or worse, as a vampire! No, no, if that happened, she vowed to kill herself to save them the trouble of having to do it. Although maybe she could live in hiding with Micah and Kenji. Wouldn’t Desmond just love that. She would miss her family, though--Max, her parents, but surely they wouldn’t ‘want a vampire running the business. And then there was Kat. What would Kat say if--Peaches. And strawberries. Mmmm, yes, that’s one thing she’d definitely miss, the taste of food. And-“Satine? Satine!” A hand shook her shoulder and she batted it away. She was too tired to argue right now, and too hungry for fruit. Where was that smell coming from? It didn’t smell like fruit at all, more like smoke. And the sea. And why didn’t someone help that poor angry animal? It sure sounded like it was in pain, roaring and cursing her like that, vowing that this wasn’t the end, that’d she’d pay for what she did to him. The voice was garbled and furious, but a little familiar. When had she talked to a lion before? For that matter, when had lions learned how to talk? There was a lot of scuffling, a gunshot, and suddenly, “Wait!” Satine opened her eyes. Micah stood over Bundt, arms raised, dagger in hand. Bundt was holding his shoulder where blood was seeping onto the already wet deck. “Look!” he was saying, holding up his hand in amazement. “Look!” Micah glanced at Satine and she blinked, focusing back on him as all thoughts of fruit and talking lions evaporated and the real world came rushing back. Micah gave her a look mixed with relief and something she couldn’t quite interpret and ordered Bundt to get up.

“It can’t be,” the vampire said, horrified. His wide eyes moved rapidly from Micah, to Satine, and back. “It’s impossible!” Micah pulled him to his feet, flipping the dagger blade up to aim at Bundt’s heart. “Too bad you won’t live long enough to enjoy it.” The dagger was poised, ready to finish him off, and in a frantic last-ditch effort to save his life, Bundt, shouted, “Wait! Wait, don’t--I can take you to him. I know who--I can--“ “Shut up and die with some dignity,” Micah interrupted, disgusted. But Bundt was not below groveling for his life. He turned his desperate gaze on Satine. “Please,” he begged, “I didn’t know. I--“ “Tried to kill me!” Furious, she tried getting up but failed miserably, ending up back on the ground, sprawled out unceremoniously like a newborn deer, all shaky limbs and no coordination. “And for that, he shall be punished.” Rider appeared out of nowhere, gun raised. He had a nasty gash on his forehead and blood pouring down his right shin, seeping into his designer slacks, but that didn’t seem to slow him down any. He cocked the gun. “Goodbye Bundt.” The same moment the shot went off, there was an even louder noise, and Satine was suddenly hurtling over the railing and into the water.

Chapter 63

She broke the surface of the water at the same time as the person hanging onto her, and when she saw Micah pull Bundt out of the water by his shirt collar, she twisted around to find Quinn in his diving gear. He pulled out his mouth piece and pushed his goggles up with one hand, keeping her close with the other as he shouted, “You okay?” She wasn’t dead, a vampire, or in the hands of Rider, so, “I think so, you?” He didn’t look like a man who’ been struggling with an underwater oxygen malfunction. Before she could ask how he’d gotten to them so quickly, Quinn nodded and gestured for them all to head away from the burning debris that was--wait a second, burning debris? Satine chanced a look back at the boat to realize two things: One, Rider was already long gone, and two, so was their boat. Too stunned to speak, Satine just watched the still burning chunks of wood and metal slowly sink into the sea. Bits and pieces of electrical equipment bobbed around wooden planks and what was left of the hull, which wasn’t much. She spotted something small riding the waves about ten feet away and realized it was a shoe. A shoe with half a fork and a doorknob sticking out of it. She looked away, fighting back a sudden wave of tears. Desmond and Kenji were nowhere to be seen. “Quinn!” Micah called out, struggling to keep a panicking Bundt afloat. “I can’t swim!” Bundt was shouting between sputtered curses directed at both Micah and the sea in general. His wild flailing was taking them both down. “It’ll be just a few more minutes!” Quinn shouted back, grabbing what looked like the floating top of a cooler and offering it to Satine. Normally she wasn’t such a terrible swimmer, but considering her sudden and unexpected loss of blood, she was having an awful time trying not to inhale seawater every two seconds.

Quinn scanned the horizon and asked, “Where are Des and Kenji?” She swallowed hard and the look on her face must have been answer enough. He didn’t ask again. Micah pulled Bundt over close enough to speak without having to shout, and pushed a floating section of…something at the other man, warning, “Don’t go anywhere, I’m not done with you yet.” Bundt gave him an exasperated look. “And just where d’ya think I’ll be doin’ out here in the middle a’ nowhere?” Micah’s look shut him up and he scrambled to get a better hold on his makeshift lifesaver, muttering something about not liking big fish. “Where’s Kenji?” Micah asked, treading water next to Quinn. “What do you mean?” “He went in after you with the other air tank.” “Why?” “Because of your leak. You had less than five minutes of air,” Micah said. “How’d you manage to stay alive down there if Kenji didn’t reach you?” Quinn checked his air gauge, tapped his tank. “Must have been a false alarm, tank seems fine.” “Rider,” Micah spat the name with disdain. “He needed a distraction while he and Bundt--“ Satine glared at the vampire “--overtook Desmond and I.” Her throat tightened on his name, not willing to accept that he and Kenji wouldn’t suddenly just appear on the horizon any second now. Quinn spotted blood in the water, reached to push back her hair, and Satine pulled away. “You’re bleeding.” Her hand went to her neck. “You can thank Bundt here for that,” Micah answered for her, smacking Bundt upside the head. Quinn stared at Bundt. “You bit her?” It was half a second before Micah was pulling Quinn off the frantically splashing Bundt, trying to explain. “I don’t care what he says,” Quinn argued angrily, “he’s a--“ “Vampire?” Micah offered, eyebrow raised. “A liar,” Quinn finished pointedly. “And a murderer.” Before anyone could say anything more, the water around them began to bubble and stir. By now Satine really wouldn’t be surprised if a random earthquake stirred up a volcano beneath them, because that was just how this week was going, wasn’t it? They were far enough away from the wreckage of the boat not to be too worried about getting hit by, say, another explosion, but this bubbling was a little worrisome. Suddenly the water behind Quinn started to rise, and before Satine could even say submarine, there it was. At least that’s what it looked like. A mini one. Larger than a good sized raft, the high-tech submersible rose out of the water and began making its way toward them with the ease of a big metal fish. “Finally,” Micah muttered, and Bundt stared in a mix of fear, confusion, and awe as the sub bobbed in the water, evening out. The hatch flew open with surprising ease.

A scruffy looking man with dark hair and a checkered bandana wrapped around his head peaked out. “He stays,” he said without preamble, pointing a finger at Bundt and working the toothpick in his mouth. “As if I’d want to go into that death trap,” Bundt muttered, and Micah shot him a look. “You just gonna let us bob around out here in the open, or…” “A boat’s been deployed, should be here within the next twenty minutes or so.” “Twenty minutes. Fantastic.” Micah gave Bundt another scornful look, but nodded at Quinn. “Good luck.”

Chapter 64

The submersible had just enough room for Satine, Quinn, the driver, and an empty seat next to him. Dials, levers, and a series of digital readings lined nearly every available surface, but what was even more interesting to Satine was what lay outside the window. As they descended further and further towards the sea floor, teams of brightly colored fish scattered past the sub’s twin search lights. Plant life swayed back and forth in the undercurrent, and she was transfixed as the hollow mouth of a cave came into view. The beam of lights slid toward the gaping entrance flanked by two giant natural stone pillars. They rose up out of the water like silent sentinels to form an archway, under which the sub passed into a dark tunnel. Nobody spoke. The sea life tapered off the darker it got, and eventually the water level began dropping. Soon they were surfacing in another cave and being met by two men with torches. Actual firewielding torches. “To monitor the oxygen levels,” Quinn muttered to her as they climbed out of the sub and onto smooth slippery rock. She nodded. Of course they were. One of the men who met them approached and held out a blindfold to her. “Sorry miss,” he said, “but it’s the boss’s orders.” To his credit, he sounded sincere. Satine glanced at Quinn then took the blindfold and put it on. Whoever they were meeting had sure better be worth it. She felt Quinn beside her as they were led into the myriad of caves, and when she was allowed to remove her blindfold, she was standing in what looked like a perfectly normal living room. Minus the not-so-normal dark stone walls and the fact that they were underwater. A man with haphazard dirty blond hair sat in a chair in the corner, feet propped up on a hand-carved coffee table. He looked up from an old wooden puzzle box as they entered and smiled. “Congratulations,” he said, setting his dusty old cowboy boots on the floor. “You found me.”

Chapter 65

The Compass Man, as she was calling him since nobody had mentioned a name yet, was not what she was expecting. “You’re American,” she said, thinking he reminded her a lot of one of her brother’s friends, an Indiana Jones wannabe--all rugged good looks and the laid back charm to match. “No,” he answered with a smile, handing his puzzle box over to one of his men. “I just prefer the accent.” He walked over to a bigger version of the carved coffee table, which looked like it’d been constructed right out of the cave floor itself, and pressed a button she couldn’t see. A holographic map appeared over the perfectly smooth black surface and he studied the miniature moving waves on the virtual water. He tapped a spot a few times then nodded to himself and tapped again. The map disappeared. “Your friend has made it safely onto our boat,” he said, turning to address them. “So, what can I do for you?” After trying to explain the situation, Satine ended with, “And we’re hoping you can help. Or point us to someone who can.” The Compass Man didn’t answer at first, instead staring blankly at a shelf full of nautical knick-knacks. He tapped his chin in thought. Just when Satine was sure he wasn’t going to answer, he finally said, “Can you feel it now?” “Excuse me?” His calm grey eyes slid to hers. “The spell. Can you feel its tug now?” Trying not to squirm, she answered, “Yes.” “Then I’m afraid I cannot help you.” With no further explanation, he headed across the room to a built-in, carved out bar and began pouring himself a glass of what looked like orange juice and Squirt. Noticing her noticing, he held out the juice. “Would you like some? Seven different fruit juices, it’s quite good.” “Uh, no, thank you.” Satine and Quinn exchanged a look. That was it? Just like that it was over? He couldn’t help them? “I’m sorry,” she said, unable to give up quite so soon. “What do you mean you can’t help us?’ “Just that.” He took a sip of his juice. “Mmmm, so good. You sure you don’t want any?” She shook her head, bluntly asking, “Why not?” He wasn’t offended by her question, simply answering, “Because your other half, or the man who the spell thinks is your other half, has bound you to, is not here.” “But we told you,” Quinn answered, a flicker of pain crossing his features, “the boat was destroyed. No one else was found.” “Ah, but she can still feel it.” Satine’s heart jumped with a sudden surge of hope. Could it be? “You’re saying Desmond is still alive.” “I’m not saying anything. I’m just pointing out that you can still feel it, and he’s not here.” The man went back to his juice, sitting down at an antique chess table to study the pieces. “Do you think it’s true?” Satine asked Quinn. “Could Des still be alive? Kenji?” He didn’t look convinced. “You saw the wreckage…” his voice trailed off until he softly finished, “There was nothing left.”

“Including bodies.” She hated having to put it like that, but it was true. There was no definitive proof that their fiends couldn’t’ still be alive. Of course, that brought up the question of where they were if they weren’t here, but they could come to that later. “But if he was here,” Satine said, sitting down at the chess board opposite the Compass Man. He moved the White Queen three spaces and said a triumphant, “Check!” before she could finish, “Could you break the spell?” Once again, he sat there in silence, drinking and thinking. Or maybe he wasn’t really listening at all, but simply staring off in the distance thinking about his next move. Satine stared at the thin neon green curly straw he was sipping on, thinking that it made the man that much stranger, yet oddly endearing. “I do believe…” he said, trailing off and stirring his juice absently. “That it is your move.” Satine stared at him and his straw. Okay…Looking down at the board, she studied the chess pieces. She hadn’t played in a long time, but her father had taught her well growing up. Assessing the remaining black pieces, she picked up a bishop and blocked the White Queen, not falling for the obvious sacrifice. The Compass Man’s mouth quirked into a lopsided grin. “Yes,” he said. “In that case, I may be able to help you.” Quinn stepped up to the chess board. “We don’t have that kind of time. It could take days to try and locate Desmond. We have less than 48 hours until--“ The Compass Man smiled, lifting and finger, and Quinn stopped. “You forget," he said, “that I can help you there.” Satine mentally slapped herself in the forehead. Duh! The man was called Compass. If anybody could find Desmond and Kenji, it would be him. “Please,” she said, taking his hand as it reached for a pawn. “Will you help us?” He paused to study her, searching her face for…something. He must have found whatever it was, because he finally smiled and set his glass down to pat her hand. “I’ll do my best.” “Thank you.” She was so relieved she almost laughed. If there wasn’t a chess table between them, she would have pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.” “But may I ask you something first?” “Of course, anything.” “Why do you fight it so ardently?” He cocked his head to the side curiously. “It would seem to me to be much easier not to.” His question surprised her. “I don’t want to be someone’s slave, and I certainly don’t want someone to have to be mine for the rest of their life.” “Would you force them to do something against their will?” “Well, no, but…” As his words rang in her head, he gave her hand a squeeze and got up, crossing to his knickknack shelf and picking up a small wooden chest that displayed a ship’s wheel and proper rope knotting techniques. He opened the chest and pulled out a compass on a black rope. There was nothing particularly special looking about it, just an old trusty compass with a needle that spun in a dial to point north. Satine and Quinn got up to watch Mr. Compass go back over to the holographic map and tap a few spaces. He never took his eyes off the compass as the fingers of his other hand tapped and swiped away at virtual schematics. In less than a minute, he snapped the compass shut and looked up.

The man who had driven them in on the sub handed him a small notebook, in which he quickly scribbled something down. Ripping off the paper, he handed it to Quinn. “What’s this?” Quinn asked. “Where you’ll find your friend. If you hurry.”

Chapter 66

The scribbled note turned out to be coordinates. Coordinates that, according to any map they could find, led to the middle of Nowhere, Sea. Satine glanced at the clock: 8 PM. Only four more hours until Friday and then another 24 until time was up. “So what?” Micah asked once they were all reunited back on solid ground. “Are we talking about a boat here, or some secret island? GPS didn’t give you anything else to go on?” “GPS?” Satine asked. He shrugged. “It’s shorter.” “Yet still appropriate.” “Right, anyway--” “Where’s Bundt?” she interrupted, suddenly noticing the absence of her least favorite vampire. “Not here,” Micah answered, skirting the question. Not giving up the subject just yet, Satine asked, “Why not? Didn’t he say he knew where to find the man we need to lift the spell?” In the pause that followed, Quinn entered the room, took one look at them and asked, “What’s wrong?” Micah sighed and sat down at the table. He cast a glance at the many maps and atlases strewn over the wooden surface and finally said, “He’s dead.” There was a moment she really considered asking, “You killed him?”, but all she had to do was look at his face to know he hadn’t. “I’m sorry Satine, I really am. I don’t know how it happened.” She and Quinn waited for him to continue, both taking seats at the table. “One second he was splashin’ around complaining about sharks and seaweed, and the next…” Micah threw up his hands. “He let out a shout and he was gone. By the time GPS’s boat got there he was, well, practically a mummy.” “A mummy?” “I know how it sounds, but I swear the man aged a hundred years in as many seconds.” The room was silent. She had mixed feelings about Bundt’s death. Sure the man had tried to kill her, but he was one of their last hopes. If the Compass Man couldn’t help, possibly their only one. “Could it have been Rider? Maybe something he was shooting at him?” she asked. What had Bundt known that was so important one of his own men would kill him rather than risk the information falling into their hands? “I don’t think so,” Micah answered quietly, looking at Quinn before suddenly becoming very interested in the map closest to him.

“But you have a theory…” she trailed off, sensing another round of bad news headed her way. “How long was it before Micah got to you?” Quinn asked, and she couldn’t say. Having the life sucked out of her wasn’t really something she’d wanted to time at the moment. Thankfully Micah answered, “It couldn’t’ have been more than a minute or two. I would have been sooner if--“ He stopped. “If what?” Satine asked. “…If Des and Rider hadn’t both crashed into the hallway at that moment.” Micah went back to idly fingering the edge of a map and Satine felt for him. She shared in his guilt. If it wasn’t for her, Desmond would probably still be with them. Kenji too. “So it’s possible that Satine could have lost a significant amount of blood,” Quinn said, steering away from the ‘what-if’ thinking. “More like, more than likely,” Micah answered grimly and his Satine gave him a sympathetic look. It wasn’t his fault. He’d done what any of them would have done. “None of us like where this is going,” Quinn said. “But we have every reason to believe Des is still alive.” “What about Kenji?” Neither Quinn nor Satine had an answer for that. There was no magical bond to let her know if Kenji was okay or not. Could vampires drown? She reached out to squeeze Micah’s hand. It wasn’t much, but it was the only comfort she could offer. “So Bundt,” she said, trying to get them back on track. “You’ve never seen anything like this happen before?” Micah sighed and leaned back in his seat, half-heartedly tapping a pencil on the edge of the table. “I’ve seen a lot of bad things happen to a vampire, but nothing this dramatic without another master vampire or major catalyst involved. And even then, they’re usually newly turned vamps not yet used to their new skin. That or being sentenced to death.” His words suggested something Satine hadn’t really thought about before. Obviously they would need some sort of governing body to keep rogue vampires under control. She doubted all of them were so willing to get their meals from a place like Enigmatico. “But if it wasn’t natural and it wasn’t Rider…” She really hoped she was wrong. “You think it was me?” Both men were silent. “Great.” Just another warning to tack on to her list of reasons they should stay away from her. “Wait, does this mean I could do that to you?” she asked Micah, worried. She was horrified that somehow she could have unknowingly killed Bundt. If she was a threat to Micah, she needed to figure out some way to protect him from her. “No,” he assured with a half smile. “Don’t worry about that.” “I mean, I know you won’t feed on me or try to turn me or anything.“ Were these words really coming out of her mouth? “But theoretically speaking…” “Not gonna happen,” he repeated, the smile reaching his eyes this time. He picked up the note with the coordinates on it. “We have another boat?” “Yes,” Quinn answered distantly, running a hand through his hair. For some reason it was this move that made Satine realize how hard this must really be for him. Desmond was his best friend after all. “But I’m not so sure Satine should come with us. If Rider has Des, there’s no question he’ll try for you again.” “If he got what he wants, then why is he still after us?”

“Maybe it’s like what happened to Quinn,” Micah offered. “Maybe he’s had a taste of the drug and he wants more.” “Then why didn’t he just take it?” “What do you mean?” “He was right there,” Satine answered. “He could have done or taken whatever he wanted, yet…He wanted Desmond to do it.” Aside from Rider’s usual hatred of Desmond and the fact that the man never seemed to pass up a chance to make Desmond’s life more difficult, neither Quinn nor Micah knew the answer to that question. A grim silence fell upon the trio, and Satine finally asked, “What happened between them? Desmond and Rider?” “You’ll have to ask Des.” A few minutes later--after convincing them that they didn’t have time to go try and locate Desmond, come back for her, and then get back to The Compass Man again--Quinn was helping Satine aboard the new boat. He quickly showed her where everything was, then went to help Micah cast off. Thankfully the rain had stopped, but it was still going to be a few hours until they reached the coordinates. Even then, they didn’t know what to expect. The one thing she did expect, however, was for nothing to go as planned. The universe did not disappoint.

Chapter 67

“Get in there!” a guff unhappy voice ordered, shoving her forward into the dark room for added emphasis. “And stop your complainin’, the boss’ll be here soon enough!” The metal door clanged shut behind her and Satine was left staring into an inky void of what she could only imagine was the ship’s holding cell. That’s right, ship. The coordinates had led them not to an island, not to a little speed boat, but to a full on, that-looks-like-a-Navy-ship ship, complete with onboard landing strip and lots of armed guards. Whoever these people were they had a lot of contacts. And money. She heard a soft grunt and spun around on the cold floor, trying not to imagine what else might be trapped in there with her. There was a rustle of fabric and she quickly backed up against the wall, eyes darting around the room she still couldn’t quite see. Heart pounding and arms raised in a comically inadequate defensive pose, she asked, “Hello?”, amazed that her voice didn’t break in fear. Maybe she wasn’t so defenseless after all. There was no answer, so she tried again. “Hello? Who’s there?” “You shouldn’t have come.” Her arms fell to her sides at the sound of his hoarse voice, and a whirlwind of emotions cascaded over her. Satine scrambled forward, toward the slowly forming shape of a man hunched on the ground. Desmond. He was alive. Before she could stop herself, she was grabbing him into a fierce hug. He stiffened, and she let go. He was hurt. “Are you okay? Can you get up?”

“Where are Quinn and Micah?” Despite the parched sound of his voice and the pain he was obviously in, he was his usual determined self, sidestepping anything that might get too personal. “The ship had some sort of shield. We didn’t know what was happening until it was too late.” Fear and relief subsiding, the curse recognized Desmond and began to take over. He was a wave of taught muscles and pain, anger and guilt. When her eyes finally adjusted to the dark, Satine choked back gasp. “Desmond…” Her dream flashed through her mind’s eye as she started reaching for him. He jerked away. Talk about déjà vu. Her throat a tight ball of emotion, Satine whispered, “What did they do to you?” “It’s a trap,” he answered, all business. The man could barely sit up by himself, but he was still as stubborn as ever. “When the guard comes back, you have to--“ “I shouldn’t have left,” she said, unable to one, sidestep her feelings, or two, keep the regret out of her voice. “I never should have… “ She touched his cheek and he stiffened again but didn’t pull away. It may be dark, but he couldn’t hide from her, couldn’t run away. “Desmond I’m so sorry.” “You were being shot at,” he answered dryly. “And I shouldn’t have let Bundt through.” “Why do you always do that?” “Do what?” “Why can’t you just accept an apology? Why do you always have to take the blame?” “Why do you consistently feel the need to apologize?” “Because it’s my fault!” Exasperated, she let out an angry breath and stepped back. “I’m the reason we’re here, and I’m sick of having this conversation!” “Well that makes two of us then.” “Fine.” “Fine.” They sat in the dark and the silence until Satine said, “Look at us. Even now we’re fighting.” Frustrated, she moved back towards him. “I’m--” “Don’t say it.” “Going to try and find something to get you out of those,” she said, tapping the metal cuffs around his wrists. “That’s what I was going to say.” “Don’t,” he said, and once again she thought of her dream. Ignoring him, she turned to start feeling her way around the very dark room. “I know I probably won’t find anything, but I have to try.” “That’s what they want,” Desmond answered, and Satine turned back to face him. “What do you mean?” “There’s a key. Over in the corner in a desk. The guard took his time making sure I saw where he put it.” “Why would they want me to free you? Seems a little counterproductive on their part.” Desmond’s voice was low, tinged with discontent when he answered, “Because they know we’re running out of time.” His words hung heavy in the air like a malevolent cloud, and Satine crawled back over to him. Since he obviously didn’t like being comforted--probably saw it as a weakness--she gave up trying and just sat next to him, asking, “So the plan is to sit here then is it? We’ll show those bad guys by doing nothing! Now that I bet they wouldn’t see coming.” Desmond was silent as he looked over at her.

“What?” There was a curious hint to his expression. It combined with a surprising look of respect, and surprised, Satine glanced away, clearing her throat. Say something. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. Was it hot in here? “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone quite like you,” Desmond said finally, shocking the dry mouth right out of her. “What, you mean you’ve never been magically bound to a walking bad luck charm before? Sheesh Des,” she added, feigning surprise, “you gotta get with the times here. We’re losing ground on our melodramatic so-this-is-how-it’s-going-to-end-and-I-can’t-stop-it scene.” This time he actually laughed, and for the first time in a while the constant tension between them eased up a bit. And not just figuratively either. The astheneías agápia, the love sickness, moved from irritating and oppressing to a warm comfort that hung around like an old friend. It was nice. Scary and more than a little alarming that she was thinking about a spell like an old friend, but nice nonetheless. They sat in companionable silence a moment, a miracle in and of itself, until Satine asked, “So…what is the plan here?” He didn’t answer right away, and she gave him time to think. She had her own thoughts to keep her company, not the least of which was his injuries. What had they done to him? Was it just Rider or was Septimus here? Just where was “here” anyway? When he leaned forward and the air around her suddenly sharpened in a warning signal, Satine sat up straight. “Desmond?” No answer. Worried, she took his arm. “Are you okay?” Without warning the door clanged open and light flooded the bare interior. Satine jumped back in surprise, getting only a glimpse of a room with bare pipes and a single rickety looking desk in the corner before everything went dark again. She didn’t have to see the intruder to know who it was.

Chapter 68

“Sorry for the wait,” Rider said, striding towards them with all the pleasantness of a deadly viper. He came to a stop in front of them and nodded at Desmond. “Get up.” “Leave him alone.” “Satine--“ Desmond reached for her hand to stop her but she avoided his touch and stood up anyway. He’d been hurt enough in her name, she wasn’t going to let him die for her too. “I assume you know about the key,” Rider said with a smile. “Why didn’t you free him?” “Why did you lock him up if you wanted me to?” His smile turned to real amusement. “You do have your hands full with this one, Desmond, I’ll give you that. Now,” he said, ignoring Satine completely and stepping around her. “That vampire friend of yours left me with quite an unpleasant scratch the last time we met, so don’t expect him to come running in to save the day again this time. In fact, I do believe he’ll be

encountering a bit of a silver problem before we’re even done here.” His eyes narrowed. “And this time it will take him more than a few minutes and some sleep to shake it off.” Well that answered one question. Whether he was behind it or not, Rider knew about the silver pellet in the phone--about the gas that had finally revealed a truth Satine would never have guessed otherwise. She forced her worry off her face, refusing to give Rider the satisfaction. Micah was good but could he defeat an entire army of vampires? And what about Quinn? Sure, they hadn’t expected the shield around the ship, but both had moved fast once they’d realized what was happening. Originally she was supposed to stay on the boat. Now the plan was to stall long enough for them to find her. She fingered the tracking device in her pocket. It was tiny, disguised as an extra button, and had been quickly handed off to her by Micah just before they’d been dragged apart and hoisted onboard the ship. As long as she stayed with Desmond Micah could find both of them. But what about this "silver problem"? Would it be too much? First things first, stall. “Is that what you did to Kenji too?” “Lose him too, did you?” Rider asked, cocking his head in her direction. “Well well, of all the vampires I didn’t really know, I hated him the least. From what I heard he still lived by his code of honor even in the undead. Which after all these years, I have to admire at least somewhat. Even if he was on the wrong side.” He paused. “Shame, I would have liked to fight him. I wonder, can vampires breathe underwater?” She glared at that smug face and bit her tongue. He wasn’t going to get her to rise to the bait that easily, even if inside she was furious. To Desmond, Rider asked, “What do you think?” “I think you’re a sadistic coward who’s still afraid of Alastair even though you secretly yearn for his approval,” Desmond answered, briefly shifting his gaze over Rider’s shoulder to Satine. “And that no matter what you do you know you can’t win.” He was stalling, but waiting for what? Satine glanced around the dark room. Was there anything she could use as a weapon? Short from yanking a pipe off the wall, which would probably alert everyone on this side of the ship in the process, all she had was the old desk. It might have been useful if Rider was a vampire, but otherwise, it would probably just succeed in annoying him. Not to mention breaking apart a desk, even an old one, wasn’t exactly subtle. Or quick. “I am not weak,” Rider growled. He took another step, glaring fiercely down at Desmond. “I didn’t say you were.” This only made him angrier, and Rider grabbed Desmond by his torn collar, jerking him to his feet. The metal cuffs clanged against the wall, holding Desmond's arms to his sides. Still, he appeared perfectly calm, almost bored in fact. “You’re the weak one,” Rider hissed, now face to face. Desmond may be stalling, but Satine didn’t like where this was going. A few moments ago he had been in serious pain. She knew because she could feel it on him, surrounding him. It couldn’t have just disappeared. “Only someone so weak, so pathetic,” Rider continued with a dark huff of a laugh, “would be too afraid to do this.” Grabbing Satine, Rider shoved her forward, pinning her against Desmond. Again. The curse flared instantly and suddenly Satine wanted nothing more than Desmond Décar. Right there, right now. No! Bombarded with deliciously dark images, she squeezed her eyes shut and fought it--fought it harder than she'd ever fought any instinct in her life.

He was too close, so alive, and that body to die for was convincing her right about now that she really would die without it. Let go, Satine silently begged Rider. Just let me take one step back before I burst into flames! "Rider," Desmond warned. “See?” Rider scoffed, letting her go with a smirk. “There's a reason you're still locked up and it's not because you couldn't find the key. I see the fear in your eyes, Desmond, don't think I don't.” Satine stumbled back, heart pounding as she opened her eyes, trying to catch her breath. Desmond was glaring at Rider, jaw tight, furious, but she knew he’d felt it too--the desire, the need. She couldn't hide it like he could, just wasn't programmed that way, and hated herself for it. Rider knew all the right buttons to push but he was wrong. She was the weak one here. Desmond chanced a look at her to make sure she was all right, and Satine could have sworn something dark flashed across his eyes--something not just meant for Rider. She suddenly wished she was handcuffed to the other side of the room. If this went on much longer, she couldn't be responsible for her actions, because the astheneías agápia was having a field day. Her legs might as well have been jello for all the good they were doing keeping her upright, and when every bone in her body ordered her forward, towards Desmond, she quickly backed up. Bumping the edge of the desk, she stopped and dug her fingernails into the wood. This whole stalling thing was a lot harder than it looked. “See Satine?” Rider asked, slipping his hand inside his jacket and smiling again. She was going to have nightmares about that smile. “Unlike Des here, I am only trying to help you.” Sure you are. She felt around the edge of the desk, looking for the drawer. Maybe there was something other than the key to Desmond’s handcuffs in there, something useful like, say, a metal letter opener? Ha, yeah, because she was just that lucky. “So,” she asked, finding the handle on the drawer. “What’s stopping you then? From ‘helping’ me?” “Only this.” In the blink of an eye, Rider withdrew a dagger from inside his jacket, turned, and thrust it into Desmond’s abdomen. At first she was so shocked she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Her brain simply hummed with static before finally responding, That did NOT just happen. Desmond didn’t cry out, didn’t shout, didn’t make a sound even as Rider stepped back. He looked down at the dagger’s hilt then up to Satine. His jaw twitched once with unreadable thoughts, and then he just dropped. “NO!” Satine ran forward as Rider caught Desmond around the waist and yanked out the blade, keeping him upright as blood rushed between them. “No!” This is not happening, it couldn’t be happening, not like this! Leaping on Rider’s back, Satine forgot all her combat training, lost in shock and denial. He shook her off with barely a brush of his hand and angry tears flooded her eyes. Rider smirked down at Desmond and said, “See? Who’s winning now?” He let go and Desmond slumped to the floor, eyes glazing over as he continued to lose more blood. “Des! Desmond--” She rushed towards him in a flurry of panic and fear, but never made it.

Barely had her hand brushed his leg before Rider was yanking her to her feet and pinning her to the wall, this time against him. He radiated supremacy and heat, danger and aggression. The man was enjoying every second of this and she hated him, really really hated him. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, staring triumphantly into her eyes. “This time I’m sure we’ll have enough of his blood to thoroughly confuse that curse of yours.” She was still comprehending his words when he pulled her against him and kissed her hard.

Chapter 69

The spell was confused all right. Whatever invisible barrier or warning there was between her and those not accepted by the spell went haywire. At first it fought back with a burst of fire, then reconsidered and sent a ‘subject has been approved’ alert, rerouting that fire from pain to pleasure. About that same time her own brain kicked in, and Satine shoved Rider back, slapping him hard. He didn’t even feign surprise. In fact he’d been expecting it. Her hand stung and she hadn’t done much damage, but at least it got him to stop kissing her. She hated kissing--might not ever kiss anyone again in her life! Glaring daggers at Rider, she dared him to try it again. And this time she wouldn’t be slapping, she’d be aiming a lot lower. “This would be a lot easier if you didn’t fight it Satine,” he said evenly as she realized with growing horror that, like him, she was now covered in Desmond’s blood. Hot. Sticky. Life. She was wearing Desmond’s life on her sleeve. Stop it, don’t think about it yet, you can’t freak out or you’re both dead! Aloud, she heard herself say, “If you think I’m just gonna stand here and--“ “I’m not going to hurt you.” “Oh, like you didn’t hurt Desmond? Is that how you’re not going to hurt me?” Satine pulled off her jacket, scrubbing furiously at the blood on her shirt, tears stinging her eyes. She didn’t care about Rider, didn’t even care what happened to herself anymore. Desmond was dying and this time he couldn’t argue that it wasn’t her fault. Rider was not getting to her through Desmond’s blood, not if she had any say in it. “Ah but you have so much power in you,” Rider said with a longing that both confused and creeped her out. “If you would just allow yourself to--” “Shut up, just shut up!” Upset that she couldn’t keep her tears back, Satine silently cursed herself then dropped to her knees, gingerly pulling Desmond into her lap. She couldn't let him die, not like this. “Des?” Her tears flowed freely now and she couldn’t stop them from landing all over his face as she cradled his head. That would be just their luck. He’d survive a stabbing but drown in her tears. Fighting back a frustrated sob, she wiped them angrily away, feeling her hand warm with his blood as she tried her best to stay his bleeding with her bunched up jacket. She knew her efforts were futile, but she couldn’t just stand there. “Desmond?” “Micah… Quinn…” he whispered, struggling to stay conscious.

“I won’t let anything happen to them.” She soothed his hair back, heart breaking. How could she have let this happen? “No…” “Shhh, it’s okay don’t talk.” Desmond took her hand and stared right at her. Although she never saw his lips move, she could have sworn she heard him say, “They’re coming.” She started to lift an eyebrow in silent question when Rider sighed, said, “Alright then,” and pulled her up. “No--Wait!” “He’ll be fine.” She continued to struggle in his grasp, shouting at him, and finally Rider took her shoulders and backed her against the wall. “Satine,” he said like he was talking to a two-year-old, “I had no intention of killing Desmond tonight, but if you don’t stop squirming, I may just have to.” She stilled immediately, heart racing. “He’s already lost too much blood…” “He’s a strong boy, I wouldn’t worry too much.” “Why are you doing this?” she asked weakly. The infuriating bonding curse was demanding more and more attention now that it was registering two Desmond’s in the room, and her one Satine was starting to fall apart. “Because, “ Rider said, leaning forward. His breath brushed her ear when he whispered, “You my dear, are exactly what they were all afraid of.” He deliberately stepped slowly forward, doubling the blood bond between them and Satine gasped. Not Desmond! she tried to tell it, but the astheneías agápia wasn’t listening. She was growing weaker and stronger at the same time, happy and sad, confused and furious, and it was all focusing into a painful throbbing at her temple. Was it physically possible to have your head explode from too many emotions? Because right now, she could believe it. “Who’s afraid of me?” she asked, concentrating on thinking, not feeling. “They all are,” he said in a low voice, drawing a finger along her jaw. “And if they’re not, they should be.” Satine struggled against his hold and made the mistake of looking him in the eye. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, and she just nodded. He wanted to kiss her, she wanted to be kissed, why not? It seemed like a good enough deal. To think she’d been trying to fight it. Rider smiled and she vaguely noted the absence of his scar, reaching up to run her thumb along his cheekbone. Something dark flickered through his eyes, and then he was doing exactly as he'd promised--kissing her again. This time Satine couldn’t fight it, didn’t want to. The spell, curse, Rider, whatever it was, it was in charge now, and when Rider deepened the kiss, it wasn’t happy. Imposter! It was her only thought before Rider was tackled to the floor.

Chapter 70

Satine sank against the wall. The whole ordeal turned from a nightmare into a bizarre dream she seemed to be watching from a very tired far away. Desmond was springing to his feet and ordering Rider up--What? How did he do that?-- He held something in his hand but in the dark she couldn’t see what it was. With her ears ringing, she strained to hear what he was saying, but the exhaustion was making it hard to focus. Maybe she should just go to sleep. Take a nice long nap... Never taking his eyes off Rider, Desmond shifted closer to ask if she was alright, and, after working her jaw to unplug her ears, Satine managed a breathless, “Yeah.” It took a few tries, but she was finally able to stand up, looking him over in amazement. How was he even alive? “Are you?” Desmond followed her gaze to her bloody jacket still wrapped around his waist. The metal cuffs that had held him to the wall were still around his wrists, the chains dangling as if he’d ripped them right from the wall with brute strength. Considering all the blood he’d lost, even Rider looked impressed. “I take it back,” he said looking from Desmond to Satine. “You’re not at all what they were expecting.” Desmond shoved Rider towards the door. “Take us to Micah and Quinn. After that you’re going to hand over the keys to that helicopter of yours and order your men to back off.” “Or what?” Rider bit back with a sneer. “You’ll kill me before the vampires get you?” “Or,” Desmond answered, yanking him forward, “I’ll return the favor.” He slid Rider’s dagger out to aim at its owner and indicated his other hand. “After I destroy this and send it to the bottom of the sea.” Satine couldn’t see whatever “this” was because Desmond still had a handful of Rider’s shirt, but whatever it was, it was clearly very important. For the first time, she saw a hint of fear cross Rider’s face. He quickly covered it with a glare and the two men stared each other down. “Ready to go?” “Lead the way.” Desmond slid the knife back into his pocket, along with the mysterious object Rider was worried about, and they all headed for the door. He motioned for Rider to go first, warning, “No funny business.” Rider mumbled something under his breath but opened the door and led them out anyway. Two guards immediately stood up, each with a gun in hand and a stern look on their face. “It’s all right,” Rider assured, holding up a hand. “We’ve just moved onto phase two. Mr. Décar and Miss Tierney are being moved to a more secure area where we can--“ he glanced sideways at them and pointedly finished, “--talk.” The guards, both vampires, must have heard this before, because they both lowered their weapons and grinned--although their fangs made it look more like snarls. One of them eyed the blood on Satine’s shirt and made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. “If you weren’t so toxic,” he told her with a hungry look in his eye, “I’d have meself a drink righ’ about now.” It was hard not to react but she ignored him and focused her attention on Rider’s back as he led her and Desmond past the guards and to a set of stairs at the end of the hallway. Thankfully they didn’t run into anyone else until they made it to the door of the room supposedly holding Micah and Quinn.

Rider had one of the guards unlock the door then dismissed them both. Neither guard seemed the least bit surprised to see all three of the new arrivals covered in blood, and headed out without a second look back. Once they were out of sight, Desmond told Rider to open the door. He sighed dramatically but obeyed, stepping inside the dim room. They followed, the door shutting behind them. Satine turned to make sure they weren’t locked it but was frozen by a familiar voice begging, “No! Please!” All the blood drained from her face and she swung around. “Kat?” It couldn’t be, she had to be wrong. Except that she wasn’t. The woman bound to the bed looked up, eyes wild. Her hair was a mess, eyes red from crying, and for the first time since Satine had ever known her, Kat looked scared. No, not just scared, terrified. A flicker of confusion and then hope crossed her face, and Kat forgot about the vampire hovering over her long enough to ask a shaky, “Satine?” Before she could answer, another voice asked, “Des?” The strained tone tore her gaze away from Kat, and Satine suddenly saw who the vampire tied--or rather bound with a thin silver chain--to the bed was. “Micah!” “Wait.“ Desmond stopped her before she could start forward, and turned on Rider. “You.” He slammed the other man against the wall and it was the angriest Satine had ever seen him before. “You had her here the whole time, you bloody conniving--“ “You didn’t think I’d give up such a valuable playing card just like that, did you Des?” Rider’s eyes danced with triumph. He was proud of his little surprise, even amused at their reactions, and relishing the moment. “And once she’s served her purpose, you can be sure I’ll be paying a visit to that Peter boy as well. It was a shame the blonde had to die in that wreck when he was the real target.” It suddenly made sense. Peter was the only one who’d really seen Rider talking to her at the party. Satine had chatted them both up happily, unaware of the danger she was putting the boy in. Eventually Dori had been the one to pay for it. “Des, seriously,” Micah suddenly said from the bed, “you can tear into him later, but you really gotta stop me before--“ growling, he gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. His entire body tensed and it was only then Satine saw the blood. And Micah. His hair had fallen against his face, soaked in sweat, and somewhere along the line he’d lost his jacket. Even through the long sleeved black shirt he’d been wearing--one which was now hanging limply from his sides, having been ripped down the front--every muscle in his back was visibly rigid with barely contained agony. Micah turned his face towards them and Satine gasped, involuntarily stepping back when he opened his eyes. The man trapped on the bed hovering over her best friend was no man. The pupils of his eyes were barely a pinprick of black and the rest had gone such an icy blue they were almost entirely white. They were an animal’s eyes, razor sharp, hungry, deadly. And yet there was still something there, something human--a pleading look that said he was doing everything in his power to fight his instincts, to ignore the very thing he needed to survive even though it’d literally been laid out and prepared for him. The cuts on Kat’s arms and legs weren’t deep, most just scratches really, but to a vampire, especially one who hadn’t fed in a while, it was the sweet smell of dinner and dessert.

Desmond’s anger grew hot around her and Satine could actually feel him forcing it back as he said, “Go untie him.” It took her a second to realize he was talking to her, but she didn’t have to be told twice. “Wait--“ “It’s okay Kat,” Satine interrupted in a voice she hoped was soothing. “He’s a friend.” She reached for the one long line of silver laid over Micah’s wrists and across the back of his knees, and lifted it up, surprised it was so light. How could something so delicate hold down a vampire as strong as Micah? The second the silver was off, Micah hurled himself off the bed and onto the floor, where he remained, on all fours, back to them and breathing hard. He was barefoot. The fact that someone had taken his shoes and socks made Satine furious for some reason, but before she could go over to make sure he was okay, Desmond asked, “Micah?” Micah waved him off, gripping the floor despite his assurance, and muttering, “Just give me a sec.” Her heart went out to him. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for him not to attack Kat. The fact that he’d managed it though gave him a ton of points in Satine’s book. Finished with the ropes around Kat’s wrists and moving onto the ones around her ankles, she asked, “Are you okay?” Instead of the ‘Do I look okay?’ Satine was expecting, Kat just nodded, rubbing her wrists as she kept a wary eye on the vampire in the corner. “Satine?” she finally asked once the ropes were off her ankles. “What the Supernatural is going on here?” If she hadn’t looked so serious, Satine would have laughed. “It’s a really long story, and I promise to tell you everything, but right now we have to get out of here.” She looked at Desmond and back then asked, “Have you seen Quinn?” “Quinn?” Kat’s puzzled expression said she wasn’t yet entirely convinced she wasn’t dreaming, so Satine answered, “Yeah, remember? The guy you thought I should marry?” “I never said that,” Kat said, focusing and sounding more and more like herself. “I just said that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought. That you should give him a chance.” Satine couldn’t help it, she laughed. Pulling Kat into a hug, she told her how much she’d missed her, how relieved she was that she was okay. “I’m so sorry I got you into this,” she finished, pulling back to check her friend’s cuts. “I never would have let you come to my parents' house if I knew what kind of danger I was putting you in.” Rider rolled his eyes. “You really think she wasn’t in danger since the moment you met? The moment you decided to become friends?” “What?” “He’s right,” Desmond answered grimly. “No one connected to you is safe. We should have arranged better security. I apologize Kat. This is not Satine’s fault, it’s ours.” Kat met Satine’s gaze with a lifted eyebrow. Well this is new. Oh how much they needed to catch up on. As far as Kat knew, Desmond was still that stoic unpleasant Englishman from the party. The thought had her reconsidering the Desmond she’d first met. Had he really been that unpleasant? Looking back, she could hardly remember anymore. It seemed like a lifetime away since they’d all sat down to dinner and gone to “the ball.” Even if he had appeared irritated and annoyed with her, could she blame him? If she’d known then what she did now about herself would she have wanted to hang around dancing the night away either? My how fast things could change. “I hate to interrupt this tearful reunion,” Rider said dryly, glancing at a corner of the ceiling. “But I do believe we have about ten seconds before my men arrive to let me out.”

They all looked up. A security camera blinked benignly back, its little red light silently counting down 9…8…7… “Fantastic,” Micah mumbled from his spot the floor. He looked better, not 100%, but better than he had. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the wall. Rider’s estimate was off by only a second, and nine seconds later the door burst open and four guards came rushing in, each jostling for a spot at the front. “What’s goin’ on boss?” a giant of a man with a very square head and an ugly scar cut across his left eye asked, swinging his gun back and forth. “Why’d you let the vampire free?” Rider glanced at Micah, and suddenly it all made sense. Why he’d gone alone with them so far, why he didn’t seem all that upset to be taken prisoner. Although speaking to the man with the gun, Rider leveled his gaze on Desmond’s. His expression was completely blank as he answered, “So you could stake him yourself.”

Chapter 71

Really? Satine wanted to ask. Even now we can’t get a break? They might as well just go ahead and stake them all, herself included. Forget the ridiculously translated Love Sickness, SHE was the problem. Anyone who had known her more than a few minutes was automatically dragged into this nightmare by default, and Satine was getting sick of it. She wasn’t about to stand by and watch another innocent person--human, vampire, or otherwise--die on her behalf. And so, when Rider’s muscle men stepped forward, so she did, blocking their way and demanding, “No.” All four brutes stopped, gave her a surprised look then burst out laughing. “Yeah,” one of them said, “because you’re gonna stop us.” “Leave them alone,” she answered, keeping herself between them. “It’s me you want, not them. Just let them go and I’ll cooperate. No tricks, I swear.” Before either Micah or Desmond could respond, and it was clear they were both going to object, another voice answered, “Oh you’ll cooperate alright.” Another of the men--no, strike that, definitely a vampire with those fangs--stepped around the big guy with the scar to get a better look at her. “You’ll cooperate,” he repeated, “but only because otherwise--“ he turned the gun on Kat, running his tongue over his fangs as a hungry look burned in his eyes. “We can get very…creative with your little friend over there.” What little blood had returned to Kat’s face drained instantly, and before Satine could object, Scarface said, “I say we stick with the original plan, have some fun.” He let out a bark of a laugh. Any amusement was gone when he turned a cold glare on Micah. “After all, it’s the least I can do for the world renowned Micah Caractacus.” Micah stood up. “Ah shucks,” he said, walking forward. “And here I don’t even know your name.” “You may not know me...” Pure hatred laced the vampire’s tone. “But you know my name.” He pulled a very sharp stake from within his rugged leather jacket, moving closer to Micah.

“Now now,” Rider chastised, “not everyone has such a great memory as yours. I’m sure he would better remember with a quick refresher.” “Janson Sparks,” Scarface spat, his entire body vibrating with disdain. “I’m pretty sure you knew a girl named Annie.” It wasn’t a question. The sudden anguish that flashed across Micah’s usually perfectly tempered expression caught Satine off guard. Softly, he answered, “Annie…yes, I knew her,” and in the pause that followed, Satine’s heart went out to him. She didn’t know who Annie was, but the woman had clearly meant something to Micah. With a frown at the vampire, Micah added, “She never mentioned she had a brother.” “Yeah well, she never mentioned a lot of things, mate.” Without warning, Sparks lunged at Micah, missing him by a hair with the stake as Micah stepped easily out of the way. “I never meant to hurt your sister,” Micah said, jumping out of the way of another of Sparks’s jabs. The man let out a growl and a curse and picked himself up off the floor to try again. “Hurt her?” he shouted, fuming. “You killed her!” “You’re right,” Micah said, placing the desk between them. Satine looked at the rest of Rider’s men, wondering why no one was moving. Where they waiting for orders from Rider? From Sparks? “And I don’t blame you for wanting me dead,” Micah said, “But I swear, had I known--“ Sparks didn’t let him continue. Fed up with the slow and ineffective action of the stake, he chucked it across the desk, yanking out his weapon and peppering a spray of machine gun fire across the spot Micah had just vacated. Kat yelped in surprise and Satine grabbed her and pulled her down, using the bed for cover. She peeked up over the flowery comforter. If Micah had been human, he’d be dead right now. Instead, he was standing behind Sparks, the stake in his hand. “I am truly sorry,” he said, then stepped back. Mouth a surprised ‘O’, Sparks dropped the gun he hadn’t pulled fast enough, body making a sick thudding noise as it hit the floor. The stake he’d meant for Micah had ended up in his own back. Satine sank down beside Kat, swallowing hard. “What happened?” Kat whispered, starting to look, but Satine pulled her back down. “You don’t want to know.” Instead of the chaos she’d been expecting, the room filled only with the sound of one man clapping. “Bravo,” Rider said, each clap slow, meticulous. “You’ve managed to stake a man who’s been carrying that revenge around decades, waiting for just the right moment, in just a few seconds. Bravo.” He smirked. “I’m sure his sister would be heartbroken.” Before Micah, or anyone else for that matter, could answer, Desmond had Rider pinned to the bullet ridden wall, dagger at his throat. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any worse.” “You know me,” Rider answered flippantly. “I’m always up for a good character challenge. A little angst-filled blast from the past, anyone?” He grinned. “How about you, Desi boy? I’m sure we could have ourselves a good and bloody walk down memory lane.” It must have been the last straw for Desmond, because he suddenly stepped back, yanked something out of his pocket, mumbled something that sounded like, “Micah,” and threw it against the wall.

Rider shouted a surprised, “No!” but it was too late. With a loud crash, white light shattered across the room in a burst of ice, knocking everyone off their feet. Before she could even catch her breath, Satine was being dragged through a jumble of shouting, screams, and gunfire. “Satine!” “Kat!” She tried to find her in the chaos, but still momentarily blinded by the bright light, she only succeeded in tripping over something hard and soft at the same time. One of Rider’s guards let out a shout, and a spatter of gunfire had her ducking and running in the other direction. The hand in hers tightened, pulling her back. The vampire, who was apparently firing blindly and had missed her by a mile, continued to roll around on the ground cursing anything and everything in existence. Somehow Satine ended up at the door, Kat behind her clinging to her arm, and realized that whoever had her other hand was determined to keep moving. Another someone was pushing her from behind, but all she could see was the bedspread looking like a hunched over Halloween ghost. “Go!” the flowery comforter ordered and Satine did a double-take. “Micah?” “Keep moving,” Desmond ordered, joining them as the vampires behind them continued to shriek in pain as Rider tried to fight through them, all the while shouting something at Desmond that was distorted by all the other noise. “If we hurry we can make it.” They were already clambering up a set of metal stairs by the time Satine’s full vision finally returned and she saw who was gripping her hand. “Quinn?” Kat asked at the same time Micah muttered, “Took you long enough,” and as Kat batted a frustrated hand at her flyaway hair, Quinn gave her a surprised look. “What are you doing here?” “She’s been here the whole time,” Satine answered, rounding a dim corridor to take another set of stairs two at a time. An alarm had sounded not long after their escape, and no doubt they’d be meeting the rest of Rider’s men soon enough. “The whole time?” Quinn asked, and she saw it in his face when it finally sunk in. They continued to run through the bowels of the ship, somehow avoiding anymore of Rider’s army. Satine glanced back at Micah and Desmond, afraid that they were still hurting from what Rider had done to them, but both of them looked set on at least acting like they were perfectly fine. She hoped they’d tell her if they weren’t. Right, and the astheneías agápia would just break its own curse. They had just made it onto the deck, were heading to the helicopter and almost free, when a single shot rang out. Kat fell to the ground beside Satine with a gasp of surprise, and suddenly Satine’s world, what little was left of it, fell apart. “No!” She collapsed next to Kat, catching her in her arms as blood bloomed from Kat’s shoulder seeping through her running clothes. To get this far and lose her best friend was too much. Tears flooded her eyes and Satine couldn’t see, couldn’t think. “Kat--“ Another shot exploded somewhere over her head and she could hear everyone yelling at her, but she couldn’t go, couldn’t leave Kat here alone to bleed to death on a ship full of vampires. “Satine…“ “You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.” She used her hands to stay the blood, and searched for anything else she could use in her vain attempt to save her friend.

More people had flooded the deck and Satine realized not all the gunfire was directed at them. Desmond and Micah were shooting back and Quinn sank to his knees next to her. “Quinn--” Satine’s voice caught and she couldn’t continue. Tearfully, she silently begged him for a miracle. “It’s okay,” he answered, carefully scooping Kat up into his arms. “She’s going to be okay, stay close.” With Satine following, he maneuvered through the various barrels and ropes on deck. They weren’t headed for the helicopter. Micah and Desmond continued to cover them as they made it to the railing, and just when Satine thought they were going to have to jump into the sea to escape, the best surprise she’d had all day appeared to help lower Kat onto the waiting submarine. Kenji was still alive. Not only that, but he’d brought help. Satine was so relieved she could have kissed him--If she still kissed people. They lowered Kat carefully inside the familiar sub and when Quinn waved her to follow, Satine heard herself stupidly asking, “Will we all fit? Is there enough room?” As a bullet whizzed by his head, Quinn shouted, “We’ll make room!” and ducked her head under the hatch lid. A few seconds later, he was climbing in after her, followed closely by Micah and Desmond. By the time they were all inside, there wasn’t any room to maneuver, and Micah and Satine had to scrunch down on Quinn and Desmond’s laps just to get the door shut. The same man who had picked them up before quickly got the sub up and running, and as they began their descent, Micah, still caught up in half of the ripped flowery comforter, stared down at Quinn and said, “You tell anyone about this, you’re a dead man.” “Trust me,” Quinn answered, his face mere inches from the vampire’s straddling his lap. “No one’s going to be hearing it from me.” Satine and Desmond, who had it only slightly better because she was smaller than Micah, both avoided each other’s gaze by turning to ask Kenji how Kat was doing. “The bullet went through clean,” Kenji answered in that soothing soft voice of his. “She will be fine.” Satine was thankful that he didn’t add the obvious, “If we can get her to a hospital soon.” Her worry must have shown on her face, because Kat offered a weak smile and said, “And here I thought aristocratic life was all talk and parties.” Satine let out a tearful laugh, reaching out to squeeze her friend’s hand. “Nobody ever said I did aristocrat well.”

Chapter 72

Once the blessed quiet of the sea had fully taken over the sounds of clanging alarms and Rider’s army, everyone finally began to relax. Kenji gave Kat some kind of tea and, as everyone thought it best not to alert her to the fact that she was being tended to by a vampire, was now sound asleep in his arms. Upon Satine’s request, he told them how he had seen what had happened on the surface of the water when he’d gone down to help Quinn, and that he knew his

best chance was to continue to seek help from The Compass Man if they were ever to escape Rider fully. “I am glad to see you did not need extra oxygen after all,” he told Quinn with a smile, and Quinn patted him on the shoulder. “You too.” “Not to be the resident complainer or anything, but are we almost there?” Micah asked, craning his neck to try and see out the window. “Quinn’s great in a fight, and I’m sure the ladies love the muscle, but dude?” he said, turning back. “You suck as a chair. No offense.” “None taken.” They struggled to find a more comfortable spot, the comforter trapped between them, but only ended up jabbing everyone else with elbows, so eventually gave up and went back to their original position. Satine bit her lip to keep from laughing, wishing she had her camera as they both sighed, wrapped their arms back around each other, and glared at the opposite wall. Priceless. “We should be there soon,” the driver answered, and Satine faced forward again. Because it was more than a little awkward to just sit there in Desmond’s lap and ignore him, she glanced down at her bloody jacket still wrapped around his waist and asked, “How’s your stomach?” He tensed briefly like he was surprised she was speaking to him, but answered, “Fine.” “Yeah, what happened there?” Micah asked, he and Quinn both struggling to shift a look at them--“Stop it”, “You stop it”, “Ow, that’s my--”, “--Nose!” Finally situated, Micah said, “That’s a lot of blood.” Satine and Desmond stared at each other, and when he didn’t say anything, she answered, “Rider. He seemed to think he could somehow tap into the spell and use it for himself if he…if he had enough of Desmond’s blood.” Her throat tightened on that last part and she looked away. She could still see Rider plunging that knife into him, would never forget watching Desmond fall to the ground. “I always said you should have finished him sooner, Des,” Micah answered, and Quinn suddenly perked up. “That reminds me.” He jostled Micah out of the way to get to his jacket pocket. “Hey--“ “Watch it--“ “Stop moving.” “Here,” Quinn finally said, holding his hand out to Desmond. “Found this on my way down to get you.” It was Desmond’s necklace, the one with the vial of liquid Satine had noticed on him the night she’d gone to offer him help and thank him for saving Tonks. Even back then she was getting him hurt. “Thank you.” Desmond took the necklace, and Quinn shrugged, telling him that it was the least he could do after “all I owe you”. Whatever that meant. When Desmond couldn’t get the necklace on without elbowing both Quinn and Micah in the face, Satine took it and slid it over his head. She settled the vial safely against his chest. Her fingers lingered against his bare skin. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.”

The soft hum of their surroundings faded into the background as their eyes met, and once again it was hard to deny their instant connection. Much more so in such a confined space. It probably wasn’t helping that she was sitting on his lap. For a long moment no one said anything, each lost in their own thoughts, and although she knew she was staring, Satine couldn’t get herself to break Desmond’s gaze. Even covered in blood, tired, and bruised, he was an amazing source of strength. He barely knew her, yet here he was, once again saving her life. Forcing herself to break eye contact, Satine lowered her gaze and noticed something else. “We should have taken that key after all,” she said, lifting Desmond’s arm. The metal cuffs were still around his wrists, which meant he was still trailing about a foot and a half of chain from either arm. She still couldn’t believe he’d been able to rip them out of the stone wall even as he was dying. Speaking of which… In the light she could finally see how much blood was actually between them. It’d stained both their clothes a dark red, leaving dried streaks on exposed skin and getting under fingernails. It was a morbid reminder of how lucky they were to be alive. Satine reached for her jacket to check on his wound, but Desmond caught her hand. “It can’t possibly be ‘fine’.” Silently, she added, I saw what he did to you. You were dying, Desmond. He didn’t answer and didn’t remove his hand. Sighing, she let go, wondering if he would ever ask for help on anything. If there would ever be a day when he would trust her enough to really let her help. She wondered if Kenji had any more of that tea of his. Or even some liquid stitches, she thought dryly. Looking around at Desmond’s friends, she asked, “Really? None of you are worried that he was stabbed? Is probably bleeding to death?” “If that were the case, he’d be long gone by now,” Micah answered frankly. She wanted to roll her eyes and ask if all this blood was bothering him or Kenji, but thought it rude so kept her mouth shut. Instead, she mumbled, “Some friends you got there.” “Yes,” Desmond said. “They know when they are needed and when to back off.” He wanted her to back off? Fine. She fully intended to do it too, but when his eyes met hers, she could have sworn she saw amusement quickly dart behind those mysterious pupils. Back off? Sure, but first she had something to do. It was a bad idea, of course, but she couldn't stop. Even as she closed the distance between them, Satine was shouting at herself to back up, to stop, before it was too late. Her hand rested on his chest and even that minor contact sent a thrill right through her. The curse sprang to life, urging her onward, and she wished they weren’t trapped in such a small sub underwater. What was wrong with her hand? Why was it moving? “Des?” her voice was a whisper and she swallowed hard, dragging her gaze from her hand to his face. What do I do? “Try to focus your concentration,” he answered, somehow knowing her problem. “Relax.” Relax? How was she supposed to relax when her own hand was moving on its own contrary to her instruction? Okay Satine, you can do this. It’s just a hand, you move it every day on your own without even thinking about it.

Taking a deep breath, she stared hard at her right hand, trying to stop it from unbuttoning what was left of his shirt. It stubbornly refused, and soon both her hands were sliding beneath the fabric to lay flat against his hot chest. Their eyes met. He didn’t look away. Neither did she. Her thumb traced over the vial on his necklace and Desmond didn’t move. She wanted to ask him where he’d gotten it, what it was, but couldn’t seem to remember how to form words. Instead, she traced a line to the hollow in his throat, sliding her fingers into his hair and licking her suddenly dry lips. Would he let her do it this time? Kiss him? Because she really really wanted to. I thought you weren't kissing anymore, she silently argued with herself. Shut up, you. She ignored her internal monologue and focused on the man in front of her. When Desmond said nothing, and emboldened by his lack of resistance, Satine slowly shifted closer in his lap, heart leaping in excitement when she realized wasn’t the only one enjoying this. Although his expression never changed and his hands were still placed dutifully on the arms of their chair, a burning shadow scorched eyes as she settled against him. The moment crackled between them like invisible fire, and it was Desmond who finally broke eye contact. “Micah?” The tone of his voice carried an entire conversation, and Micah glanced over then froze. Satine saw in his face the moment he realized what Desmond was asking, and shook his head ardently. “No. No way, Des.” “Micah,” Desmond said again, the slightest strain in his voice, as his grip on the chair tightened. “Please.” In the pause that followed, even Quinn held his breath. Looking between them all, Satine tried to imagine what it was Desmond was asking Micah to do. Was there some way he could override the intense need she was feeling right now? Some way for her to get her own control back? If there was, he'd better do it fast, because what little control she still had left was rapidly disintegrating in Desmond’s presence. Micah met her gaze a moment then looked at Desmond. “What you’re asking me to do…” “Should tell you how dangerous this is becoming.” Heat flared from Desmond’s body to hers and Satine closed her eyes. She wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him. And once again he was so very close… Ignore it, she chanted over and over, biting the inside of her cheek. Not real. It’s what the spell wants, not you. Besides, he didn’t want to be a slave any more than she did, right? Desmond was trying to help her, but she wished he wouldn’t. She wished he would just forget about the whole thing and let her run her hands all over that perfect body. She wanted to touch him, feel him, inside and out, right down to his very soul. She wanted to get lost in the taste of his mouth, the strength of his embrace. She needed to take away his pain, feel his joy, his laughter…his desire. She imagined taking his face in her hands, leaning forward to capture his mouth with hers as they forgot about everything and-“Satine.” She opened her eyes. Bad idea. Desmond was staring at her like he’d just heard every single one of her thoughts, even those she hadn’t yet got to. A myriad of colors swept through his gaze, searing hers, and the intensity

stopped her heart. His eyes flicked to her lips briefly before he quickly looked away again, and Satine wanted to scream, Just kiss me already! “Satine?” This time it was Micah. “Yes?” She heard herself say it, but why did she sound so…how to put it…Drugged? Empty? Whatever it was, she sounded strange even to her own ears. “Do you trust me?” Slowly, she looked at Micah, not really seeing him. He sounded off, not quite right, like he was standing at the end of a long tunnel. Again, she answered that emotionless, “Yes.” “Then give me your hand.” On autopilot, she lifted her hand to him. Micah wrapped his fingers around hers and when she raised her head to meet his eyes, a honeyed warmth poured over her. Her muscles relaxed, anxiety and frustration melting away. She continued to stare at Micah, wondering why she’d never noticed how pretty his eyes were before, how they changed colors like that. One second they were a rich chocolate, so dark they were almost black, the next they were a shimmering hazel, amber and green swirled together with flecks of gold. How did he do that? “You okay?” Micah asked with a smile and she smiled back, instinctively drawn to him. “Yes.” Was that really all she could say anymore? Her pulse no longer thundered and she took in a long breath. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could even take a quick nap. His thumb brushed lightly along the back of her hand… Her eyelids began to grow heavy… Sleep… “Wait.” They both turned to look at Desmond, and in that brief moment, everything she’d been feeling before came rushing back--hurt, pain, need, desire, frustration--Satine yanked her hand back, grabbed Desmond, and was this close to kissing him when-“No.” She froze at the softness of Micah’s voice, so close to Desmond that she could feel his breath on hers. His hands had found her waist, the only thing keeping her from moving forward. Heart pounding, she waited for him to push her away. He didn’t move. Neither did she. The air danced with electricity, the only sound coming from the submarine. Suddenly afraid, Satine whispered, “Desmond?” “She needs more than that,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “Des…” “If you don’t do it Micah,” he answered, jaw tightening. “I might not be able to stop.” Satine’s heart caught in her throat. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “How much longer until we’re there?” Quinn suddenly asked, and Satine jumped in surprise. He was speaking to the captain, pilot, whatever the driver was called, and she wished they would all just stop talking and let her get rid of this horrible aching need. It was ten times worse than it’d ever been before and ripping her apart inside. If she could just lean forward, just kiss Desmond already, she knew, she knew, it would finally be over. It was just a kiss people! And yet, there was some invisible force holding her back, something telling her that it was a very bad idea--that a kiss, no matter how much she tried to believe it, wouldn’t be enough.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes,” the driver answered and Satine felt more than heard Micah’s curse. “Des?” Quinn asked, and if she hadn’t been so close to him, staring him in the face, Satine would have missed his almost-wince. Quinn must have gotten his answer, because he said, “Do it Micah,” and before she could blink, a rush swept through her. Satine was suddenly thrown onto blood red satin sheets, gripping muscular shoulders and gasping with a bombardment of passion as a tongue slid languidly along her collarbone. She’d never in her life felt such fire and total adoration for anyone. Soft strong fingers skimmed down her arm and along her side to trace the curve of her hip, and when lips teased along her jaw, her hands found his face and brought them to her mouth. The kiss was white hot and everything she’d imagined. His hand splayed across the back of her silky nightgown--where had that come from?--and she arched into him, tugging him closer. Finally allowed to play, Satine’s hands slid into his hair, her legs around his waist, and although he could have easily stopped her, he let her flip him onto his back to deepen the kiss. As her tongue plunged into his mouth, eagerly tracing those pointed fangs, the tangy taste of blood had him flipping her back onto the bed. “Micah,” she gasped, trying to pull him back when he broke the kiss, and he smiled down at her, brushing the back of his fingers along her cheek. Missing the feel of his body against her, and suddenly realizing he was still fully clothed, she reached for him, intending to right that wrong. Instead, he placed a finger lightly on her lips and shook his head. “This is about you, Satine,” he said softly, leaning down to brush his lips against her ear. “Not me.” Desire shivered down her spine and she closed her eyes. That voice…what a voice. She could listen to it all day. He cupped her cheek, lightly tracing her lips with his thumb before moving on, and she savored every second of his wonderful touch. Without even trying, he exuded a certain strength, a sultry and playful intensity that was downright addicting. He leaned forward to nuzzle her neck as his hand slid to wrap around her ankle, and when he lifted her foot slowly, she watched him pull off a heel she hadn’t realized she was wearing. The shoe dropped unceremoniously onto the plush carpet. Hovering over her, a sly grin danced in Micah’s eyes. He was going to kiss her. Or not. Micah was gone--suddenly at the end of the bed, placing his lips against the arch of her foot. Who knew feet could be so sensitive? Melting against the slippery sheets, she gripped the satin in her hands, biting her lip. He was way too good at this. Expert fingers massaged her foot and his mouth began trailing back up her leg. He took his time, moving from one ankle to the other, a kiss on her left calf, a teasing swipe of his tongue against the back of her right knee. By the time his lips brushed the inside of her thigh, Satine was dying. “Micah,” she gasped, trying to remember how to breathe. “Please--” With the grace of a cat--a deadly, incredibly seductive cat--he moved to look her in the eye. He could ignore it all he wanted, but there was no denying that look. This might be all about her, but he was feeling it too. The need, the hunger. A lock of hair fell against his forehead and in a low voice, he asked, “Satine?”

Unable to resist, she brushed his hair back, letting her hand linger against his face. His skin was cool to the touch. “Yeah?” Had he been this unearthly gorgeous when he was human? Before he’d become a vampire? Or, unlike Bundt, had he been given some sort of perfection potion after that? She would have to remember to ask him after-“You have one wicked imagination.” With that, he kissed her, and pure desire burst like fireworks through every frustrated fiber of her being. It happened so fast, without any warning, and she cried out, caught completely off guard and clinging to him as-“We’re here.” With a jolt, she was back in the sub, and would have fallen off Desmond’s lap if there had been room to do so. Eyes wide and disoriented, she tried to stand up. He caught her before she could knock herself unconscious on the ceiling. Landing unceremoniously hard on his lap, Satine gasped and Desmond’s eyes narrowed as he scooted her safely back. “You okay?” Quinn asked, and heart racing, her head jerked in his direction. Okay? Why wouldn’t she be okay? She was fine. More than fine in fact, she was great. When she didn’t answer him immediately, he added a concerned, “Satine?” and she nodded. “Y-yeah, I think so.” She glanced at Micah then quickly looked away, hoping she wasn’t blushing too profusely. She could still feel his mouth, his body, against hers, and real or no, the man knew what he was doing. Whoo boy, did he know. Still trying not to blush, Satine kept her gaze on her hands, unable to look anyone in the eye. She had no idea what had just happened, but she no longer felt the desperate unquenchable need to devour any of the men in front of her. Good? Yes. Embarrassing? Definitely. “What, uh--?” She cleared her throat. “We’re here already?” “Yes,” Desmond said, but Micah, sensing what she’d really been about to ask, answered, “You were dreaming.” She shivered despite their warm surroundings. “Dreaming?” That’s right, Satine, it was all in your head, no real feelings whatsoever. Right. And she wasn’t trying to focus anywhere but his mouth either. “Yeah you were out for a while.” Micah smiled, giving her time to regroup her thoughts. “Feel better?” Oddly enough, she did. And she knew he knew she did. They all must have, but (and she would be eternally grateful to them all for it) no one was going to bring it up. As weird and bizarre as her world had become, one thing could be said for her companions. They knew how to avoid or distract from anything and everything remotely personal. Not to mention the fact that they didn’t seem to find any of this alarming or strange. Another day, another vampire intervention. Suddenly relieved, she answered, “Yes,” and finally looked at Micah. “Thank you”. He winked at her and she couldn’t deny the excited skip of her heart. Just a dream, she reminded, and slowly she was beginning to believe it. Maybe. One day. Turning to crane his neck back towards the window, Micah moved on, asking the driver, “So, now what? We’re all here, you think your boss can finally figure out a way to break this thing?”

Maneuvering the sub through a different series of underwater caverns, dark and just as convoluted as the previous, the man pulled a lever. Without glancing back at them, he answered, “Let’s hope so.”

Chapter 73

Two hours later they were getting the bad news. “I’m sorry,” The Compass Man said, stepping back from the table where Satine and Desmond sat facing each other. “This connection, spell, was not meant to be doubled. I am not sure even the person Septimus is working with could break it.” He couldn’t help them, and this time he’d really tried. Satine sat back against the carved chair, any hope she’d been hanging on to for the last hour, the last week, slowly deflating like a balloon in the pit of her stomach. “Now we just…” she glanced around the room, “wait? Stroke of midnight and that’s it? I go insane, attack and enslave everyone?” Maybe sprout a couple of extra heads? Wouldn’t be too much of a surprise. “Only if you were born at exactly 6:00 and we stay here,” Quinn said wearily. “He’s right,” Micah said. “This isn’t a Cinderella Curse, whatever's going to happen will happen at the exact time you turn 25. In other words, whatever time you were born in the States, do the time-zone math and that’s our zero hour here.” Since Satine could only remember her mother once mentioning that she’d been born “at night”, that didn’t narrow it down much. “1:07 AM,” Desmond said quietly and they all turned to look at him. “What?” “Our zero hour.” Hold on a second. “How do you know the exact time I was born?” There was a pause, and before he could answer, Kenji entered to tell them that Kat was safely on her way back home. Thanks to the tea she’d been given on the sub ride over, she would wake up in the hospital thinking she’d just suffered a minor head injuring on her morning jog. She would remember none of this, and Satine’s brother had already made sure Kat’s family would be there to make sure she was okay. Satine still felt awful. Kat might not remember it, but that didn’t take away from the fact that she’d been kidnapped and used as a bargaining chip. Because of Satine. “Guys,” she said after a moment's thought, “I think you should leave me.” “For the moment,” Quinn asked, “or…?” “Seriously. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” She looked across at Desmond then down at her hands, mumbling, “Again.” “Then I guess we’re just going to have to be more careful,” Desmond said. “Because it’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of us.” He stood up, and getting back to the reason they were there, asked The Compass Man, “Do you know of anyone else who might be able to break it?”

“There are only a handful of people in the world who could have done it before,” the man replied, picking up the small mirror he had placed in the center of the table and putting it back in his ancient looking bag. “And now?” Quinn asked. He didn’t have to answer. The look on his face said it all. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and Desmond asked to speak to Micah and Quinn. Kenji left to go make her some tea, and alone with The Compass Man, Satine rested her elbows on the table. She massaged her temples closing her eyes against the headache that had been a constant companion for days. The Compass Man pulled a bottle out of his bag and set it on the table along with a glass of water. Satine opened her eyes. Ibuprofen. Bless his odd little heart. “Thanks." She took two pills, downing half the water. Setting the glass down, she asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have anything in there that would make sure when it all happens Desmond isn’t the one enslaved?” She was only half joking and he knew it, but smiled anyway. “Unfortunately no.” Sitting down across from her, he took out his puzzle box, the one he’d been working on the last time she’d seen him, and handed it to her. “The astheneías agápia chooses who it chooses. No one knows why.” She absently studied the puzzle box, moving the wooden levers this way and that. She knew he was just trying to get her mind off things, but concentrating on something did help her headache a little. Focus on the positive, because they were few and far between these days. “They need him,” she said, pressing a small lever. A soft click sounded, shifting the carved design to the left. She still couldn’t tell what the picture was, but it was getting there. “And you’re afraid of what will happen if he is under your power?” She looked up. “Wouldn’t you be?” “Desmond is quite strong, both physically and mentally. I find it hard to believe even a curse would be able to override his character that easily.” He smiled as she clicked another piece of the puzzle into the place without even realizing it. “But then again,” he said. “I have a feeling I could say the same about you.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You should have seen me on the way over.” There was another soft click and Satine looked down at the box in her hand. Without consciously trying, her fingers had solved the puzzle. Where random patterns had appeared before, a picture now formed. Her creative side was impressed; the historian in her intrigued. “What is it?” she asked. “Different people see different things. What does it look like to you?” She traced the smooth curves and spirals, trying to guess how old it was until she realized there was a picture in the center of it all. “A dog.” She smiled. “It’s so intricate, did you make this?” He nodded with a smile, and when she tried to hand it back, he held up his hand. “Keep it.” She tried to say that she couldn’t take something so obviously valuable, but he just shook his head. “I have a lot of time on my hands.” Gesturing to their carved surroundings, he added, “As you can see I’ve run out of space for any more artistic interior design, so don’t worry, I’ll make more.” Thanking him, she ran her thumb over the perfect ridges in the smooth wood. “What does it mean?” she asked softly, looking up to meet his eyes as Kenji returned.

“That when it all comes down to it,” The Compass Man said, standing up with a tip of his worn cowboy hat in her direction. “You’ll do just fine.”

Chapter 74

Kenji’s tea helped relax her but Satine couldn’t shake the constant proverbial ticking of the clock as they got closer and closer to the end game. If they couldn’t break the spell she was going to have to come up with some way to fight it. Even now, although he wasn’t in the same room with her, she could still feel Desmond. He was close by, heart beating in time with hers. For all the physical connections they had, she wished he would talk to her, tell her what he was thinking. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel quite so alone, so guilty. “Kenji?” she asked, looking up from her teacup. “Do you think it’s hopeless? I mean, really, are we just running in circles here, kidding ourselves that we can really stop this thing? That anything we do will actually make a difference?” He looked up from the book he had been studying, something old and in Egyptian, and placed it on the table. Using the small teapot between them to refill her cup, soft comforting eyes met hers. “Nothing is hopeless.” Kenji set the teapot down. “Thank you.” He nodded. They both knew she wasn’t just talking about the tea. The Compass Man’s driver came back to get Kenji, and Satine was left alone with her tea and the puzzle box. By the time Desmond and Micah returned, it was already 5:30 in the morning and she had fallen asleep at the table. Blinking sleepily, she sat up. It was Friday. “Where’s Quinn and Kenji?” “They’ve gone to see if they can track down the man Bundt was rambling on about before he died,” Micah said. “That is, if he even exists.” Now more awake, Satine rolled her neck, stretching the kinks out of her shoulders and asked, “And we’re going to…?” she let the question hang in the air, hoping it didn’t involve getting back onto another boat. “Continue your defense lessons,” Desmond answered, removing the weapons he had reobtained somewhere between Rider’s ship and their current accommodations and setting them aside. They’d both been given a chance to wash up and an offer of clean clothes by The Compass Man’s crew when they’d first arrived, and while Desmond did finally let them take Satine’s bloody jacket from around his waist, he’d opted to keep his shirt. Now, however, he had on a fresh black t-shirt and his hair was wet, as if he’d gone and jumped back into the sea for a quick swim while they were away. Satine had been more than eager to get rid of her blood soaked clothing and was now wearing an old Beatles Abbey Road t-shirt, the smallest anyone could find in a place full of men, and Micah’s jacket to keep back the chill. Thankfully her pants were still salvageable.

Satine got up, eyeing the weapons and Desmond wearily. “Are you sure you’re up to more combat after…” she hesitated then finished, “all that?” “You’re not going to be fighting,” Micah answered instead. “At least not with guns or swords.” Okay… “I thought you said this was a defense lesson.” “It is.” Desmond’s answer was a bit on the terse side. “Defense against what?” she asked, sarcastically adding, “Dark Arts?” Micah laughed and when Desmond just glared at them both, caught his friend by the shoulders. “Excuse him,” he said, pushing Desmond into the seat opposite Satine. “He doesn’t get out much.” Desmond shot Micah a ‘can we please just get on with it?’ look and turned to Satine. “I’m going to kiss you now.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Caught off guard she stumbled out of her seat, backing up away from them both. “Isn’t that what we’ve been trying to avoid this whole time? Why would you want to do it now?” “I didn’t say I wanted to kiss you,” Desmond said, annoyed. “I said I was going to.” She glared at him. “Thank you, I feel so much better now.” “How about we start with something a little less suicidal, huh Des?” Micah asked, stepping in. At least now Satine knew why they were both here. If they were really going to try this, someone with the strength of a vampire was going to have to be there to referee. Micah held out a hand to her chair and promised, “I’ll make sure he stays on his side of the table.” Slowly sitting back down, careful not to get anywhere near Desmond, Satine asked, “Why are we doing this?” The air began crackling the second he’d entered the room again, and now she was as weary of her own actions as Desmond’s. “Because what you’re both feeling now,” Micah said, carefully placing Desmond’s weapons as far away from them both as possible, “is nothing compared to what’s going to happen at 1:07 tonight.” Panic edging at her nerves, Satine did good by not getting up and running out. “And this is going to help?” How? “Same way you build up a tolerance to anything else,” Micah answered, leaning over to take her hand. Taking Desmond’s wrist, Micah slid their hands towards each other. “Exposure.” Their fingers inched closer and it was like watching two magnets try and fight their natural attraction. An attraction that was so strong, if Micah hadn’t had his hand on hers, Satine was sure she would have leapt out of her seat, over the table, and pounced on Desmond right then and there. She stared at her hand, heart beating wildly as, very slowly, Desmond’s middle finger brushed against hers. Hot images flashed through her mind so fast she gasped and jerked back. “I don’t know about this.” “You’ve been fine up until now,” Micah said. “If it gets really bad just tell me. We can stop any time.” Chewing her bottom lip in thought, Satine finally nodded and let Micah taker her hand again. It somehow seemed safer letting him do it instead. Her fingertips brushed Desmond’s again and a lightning bolt of adrenaline shot through her. She jumped but didn’t pull away this time. She closed her eyes as the rest of his fingers followed, sliding up and over her chipped nail polish until his hand was covering hers.

Her entire body went boneless and all tension drained away. She nearly sighed out loud. Convinced they wouldn’t attack each other just yet, Micah let go. Heat radiated from Desmond’s palm, tempting and coaxing her to look up. She did. Her eyes locked on his. Nobody spoke. There was no way to describe what she was feeling. It was the strangest mix of the worst longing yet best connection she’d ever had. Something was clicking into place just like the puzzle box now resting with Desmond’s weapons on a nearby shelf. The astheneías agápia rippled and swirled around them like an invisible pool of energy, teasing then pulling back. It was just enough to make Satine want more. Without a word, Desmond turned her hand over. Their palms rested together before his fingers drew back to slowly curl around hers. She suddenly had a whole new appreciation for hand holding. Because staring at him in silence was making her antsy, Satine cleared her throat and said, “Okay, good, what now?” If they could shake hands without the universe imploding, that had to be a good sign, right? She had to believe it, or this was going to be one very long day. She looked at Micah, who looked at Desmond, and Satine silently cursed their mastered ability of unreadable expressions. A long moment passed and just when she was about to ask them what they were waiting for, Desmond reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek, pushing back her hair. It was so unexpected that she could only sit there and stare dumbfounded at him. When he cupped her cheek, she closed her eyes. His thumb moved. It was the simplest of caresses, but every wall she’d been trying to keep up came crumbling down. She leaned into his touch, wishing it was real. If only it were real… It felt real. She wanted it to be real. She could deny it, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want him to want her as much as she was trying not to want him--and not because of some bizarre curse. Not because he didn’t have a choice, and certainly not because he was trying to build up an immunity to her. Too soon his hand was gone, leaving a dull emptiness in her heart, and she opened her eyes. “Are you going to kiss me now?” was out of her mouth before she could stop it and heat flooded her cheeks. I really should not be allowed to talk right now. “No,” Desmond said, sounding as detached as ever. How was he not flustered right now? She was blushing and confused and trying not to squirm left and right, and all he had to say was no? The tension in the room could be cut with a butter knife, but since all they had was a sword…Satine drifted off, imagining all the other things she could do with a sword, not the least of which was slowly and seductively cut away each layer of Desmond’s wonderfully form-fitting clothes. She’d start with his t-shirt, easy enough, slicing it up the middle, leaning in to suckle his neck as she eased the fabric to the floor. She’d take her time exploring his chest, run her hands over his toned muscles as she carefully made sure he really was “fine” after all he’d been through. Satisfied he was going to live after all, she’d move on. The jeans would be a little bit harder. She’d have to be careful not to cut him as she sliced up one pant leg then the next. She’d start at his ankle and work her way up, the sharp blade easily exposing the muscular calf underneath all that dark denim. If he was still sitting, as he

was now, it’d be hard to get past his knee. If she accidentally nicked him, well, she’d just have to lean in and place a soft kiss against his hot flesh… She could practically feel her lips pressed against the inside of his thigh. She’d lick gently, making it all better as she continued her trail of caresses, running her hands carefully beneath his jeans as she finished cutting them away. Thankfully he didn’t wear a belt. She’d let him keep his socks. Once the jeans had joined the shirt on the floor, she’d make him wait as she teased her fingers lightly along his thigh, lapping her tongue against his bellybutton before moving to-Desmond yanked his hand out of hers, pulling her back to the present as he suddenly stood up, putting the stone chair between them. Startled, Satine jumped, looking up at the same time Micah asked, “Des?” He didn’t answer, staring straight at Satine with such a severe look on his face she turned around to see if someone was standing behind her. Had she done something wrong? She didn’t remember saying anything, so that couldn’t be it. She was only trying to distract herself from him, and hadn’t meant to daydream. When he still didn’t say anything, she asked, “What’s wrong?” He stared at her another second, then gruffly answered, “Nothing.” He turned to Micah, said, “We’re going to need a plan C,” then abruptly turned and walked out. They both watched him disappear through the rocky archway, similarly confused. “What just happened?” Satine asked, knowing whatever it was it was probably her fault. “I have no idea.” “Should you go after him?” “Probably.” “But you won’t.” “He’ll be back.” Micah sat down at the table. The uncomfortable antsy prickling she’d come to recognize as the astheneías agápia when it was unhappy made her really hope it was soon.

Chapter 75

“That um, thing that you did back in the sub,” Satine asked Micah twenty minutes later when Desmond had yet to return. “What was it?” “You mean was it really a dream?” Micah asked, a twinkle in his eye. Once they’d realized Desmond was going to be gone longer than a few minutes, Micah had decided the time would best be spent teaching Satine how to clean a gun. And so, here they were seated across from each other cleaning more weapons than Satine remembered bringing. “Something like that, yeah.” Micah blew on the antique revolver in his hand then set it down. “You know how in all the lore vampires are always made out to be these incredibly seductive, charming people?” She hadn’t really noticed it before but, “Yes.” “Well really,” he said, leaning in as if he were about to reveal some deep dark secret, “it’s just their Influence.”

“Influence?” “Kinda like vampire hypnotism,” he said, picking the gun back up. “Vampires, especially really old ones, can pretty much make a human do anything they want them to if they Influence them enough.” Now there was a disturbing though. “Is that why we’re not supposed to look them in the eye?” Micah laughed, “It definitely helps.” “So they can do it even if you’re not looking at them?” “Not all of them,” Micah said, finished with the revolver and setting it aside to pick up what looked like a tiny butter knife, if they made butter knives that sharp. “Really powerful vamps can do it and you wouldn’t even know it. Some choose voice or touch, other make a big spectacle out of it; bring out all the smoke and mirrors just because they can. Get a big laugh out of it too.” Micah frowned. “As long as you’re in the same room as a vampire, keep your guard up. No matter how charming they are.” “That include you?” she asked, hoping to lighten the mood, and he lowered his voice seductively to answer, “Oh most definitely.” Some of her tension drained out and she was thankful for his sense of humor. “Thank goodness Rider isn’t a vampire,” she said, shuddering at the thought. Not that he’d really need to be with all the ones he’d surrounded himself with. At some point classical music had drifted into the room and they sat in comfortable silence. Finally, Satine set the sword down she’d been polishing--she didn’t feel quite comfortable with the guns yet--and gave Micah a grim look. “How long do you think Desmond’s going to--” At the sound of his name, Desmond suddenly appeared in the arched stone doorway. He was headed straight for her, his shoes silent on the Oriental rug. With a determined look on his face and without a word, he took her wrist, pulled her out of her chair and spun her around, pinning her to the wall. Satine gasped in surprise, barely had, “Desm--“ out of her mouth before he was suddenly crushing his lips against-Scowling, Desmond backed away. Micah’s hand had intervened at the last second. Satine’s mouth was still pressed against the back of it and, blushing, she quickly got control of her lips. Desmond glared at Micah, who just shrugged it off. “Not yet,” he said, eyeing Desmond as if he was deciding if it was safe to lower his hand yet. “This was your idea, was it not?” “Yeah, but we need to take it easy here, if we just jump in--“ They continued to argue about whose idea this had been in the first place, whether they should try it or not after all, and as Desmond said, “The clock is ticking--” sudden intense desire had Satine grabbing the front of his shirt, cutting him off and pulling him back before he could escape. His fiery gaze swung to pierce hers with a look just this side of hate. Satine swallowed hard. Okay, maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Even so, she couldn’t get herself to let go. He continued to stare at her and finally asked, sounding entirely too businesslike, “Miss Tierney, what do you think?” She was too distracted by the feel of his breath on hers to be annoyed by the “Miss Tierney”. “Well then, I guess that’s my answer.”

He started to pull away again, and panic had her yanking him back, spinning him around so he was the one pinned. She stared up at him, face flushed and breathing hard, and knew she had to look like a crazy woman. It wasn’t that much of a stretch. Satine’s nerves sparked and crackled, reminding her that letting him go would only make the burning come back, and she bit her lip, refusing to beg him not to leave. Why couldn’t she just ignore it? Why did she have to be so reliant on everyone else to solve her own problems? Why did Desmond hate her so much? He lifted an eyebrow down at her, his hands on her waist, and she was suddenly determined to wipe that smug look off his face. “Forget Plan C,” she said, glaring up at him. “Plan B will do just fine.” “Stop it,” Micah interrupted. “Both of you, it’s not gonna work if you keep fighting each other.” After a long moment, Desmond said, “Fine.” “Fine,” Satine echoed. It wasn’t fine and everybody knew it. She must have looked like she was going to try kissing Desmond again, because Micah warned, “Satine…” and she sighed, losing the abrasiveness in her tone as she promised not to. Neither of them looked convinced, and she added, “I couldn’t reach him anyway. He’s too tall and has too firm of a grip let me stand on my tiptoes.” She cursed him silently for that very fact and could have sworn she saw him suppress a smirk. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.” Did I just say that out loud? Who was this woman throwing herself at a man she hardly knew? A man who was trying his best to ignore her for her own good? To protect her? Without consciously deciding to, Satine slid her hands up and around his neck, hooking her fingers together and leaning into him. An unmistakable intensity shadowed his gaze and, heart beating fast, Satine stared right back as she deliberately pressed the rest of her body flush with his. The thrill that sparked through her this time had nothing to do with the spell. Desmond didn’t move, but the look on his face was deadly. He was a tense ball of barely contained energy, a fierce power, and she was pushing it. Her resolve slipping, her own doomsday clock ticking louder and louder with every second, Satine leaned forward and brushed her lips against the hollow in his throat. Desmond’s grip on her waist tightened. Her knee gently nudged his leg aside. He didn’t push her away. What am I doing?, she thought as her mouth moved to his jaw. This isn’t me. Still, her limbs were moving, her hands sliding into his hair, her thigh sliding seductively up his until-Kiss me! His eyes met hers with a searing heat, and for a split second she thought she saw the same longing she was feeling. With a woozy light-headedness, she went for it, but he managed to avoid her yet again. They spun around twice before somehow winding up on the couch. The cushions placed over the cool stone saved her from a concussion as she landed hard on her back, Desmond hovering over her. “Concentrate,” he ordered, keeping her just out of reach. “You must learn to fight it.”

Staring up at him like some lovesick puppy, she thought, Now why would I want to do that? Was she really that bad to be around? Was he really that repulsed by her? Looking up at him, all that intense scrutiny directed at her, even knowing how dangerous he could be, she’d never wanted him more. Fight it. I can’t. Fight it! “I can’t,” she finally said out loud, defeated and hating herself for it. She was pathetic, weak. “You’re not weak,” he said, countering the look on her face. No? She sure felt like it. He was within arm’s reach when he said, “You just need to learn how to discern your own emotions from those of the spell, the ones being forced on you.” A horrible thought struck her. What if she couldn’t? Or worse, what if they were one in the same? What she really wanted to ask was, How are you doing it?, but shortened it to, “How?” “Close your eyes.” She did. “Now, tell me what you want.” You. Swallowing the word, she tried to focus, to forget about his hands on her shoulders or the heat from his thighs pressed against hers to keep her from jumping him again. The curse played at the edges of her mind, sneaking in thoughts and whispering emotions. You know you want him…He’s right there…No. She shook her head. She may be a terrible ballet dancer and even worse fighter, but she still had her mind. At least for now. “I want to sit up,” she concluded at last, and Desmond said, “Good,” loosening his grip on her shoulders. “Good.” Opening her eyes, Satine found him standing next to her, no longer having to fight her off. Taking in a deep breath, she let it out shakily. The desperate lust-filled panic began to subside. Was it possible that she wasn’t as weak as she thought? That she could fight it? It hurt to look at him but at least she wasn’t attacking him anymore. Desmond gave her a look that said, See? and before she could fully recoup, Micah was handing Desmond back his weapons. “As thrilling as that was to watch,” he said, “we may have a bigger problem here.” “Ohhhh,” she groaned. “Now what?” Disregarding her obvious frustration, Micah tucked a cell phone into his pocket along with that deadly little knife of his and said, “Quinn just called. Max called him and--“ he glanced at Satine, hesitated half a second, then finished, “Kat never made it to her flight.”

Chapter 76

She’d stopped trying to keep track of what country they were in anymore. All she knew was that disaster followed them regardless of time zone. “Any word on the last time anybody saw her?” Desmond was asking Quinn as he drove through the late work traffic. It was 9:18 and nobody had had any sleep. Satine downed the last of her coffee, black, and tried to forget that she hated the taste of coffee. The adrenaline should

have been enough to keep her going, but Quinn had shoved the Styrofoam cup in her hands the second they’d arrived back to the surface of The Compass Man’s sea. “She made it off the sub and into the car on the way to the airport,” Quinn answered from the passenger’s side. “But after that no one’s seen her,” “We located the driver,” Kenji added. “He remembers nothing, not even Kat.” Micah cursed, apologized to Satine for doing so, then accidentally did it again. “One of us should have gone to make sure she made it.” He turned to Satine. “I’m sorry.” “She’s my friend,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I should have watched out for her. She had no idea what was even going on.” “Neither did you,” Desmond said gruffly, and made two more sharp turns before slamming on the breaks. He turned off the car, swung around to tell Kenji and Micah not to let Satine out of their sight, and was gone with Quinn before she could even ask where they were going. Kenji stepped out of the car and back into the driver’s side and they were moving again. “We’re just going to leave them?” she asked, turning to look out the back window at the nondescript building they’d just left. “Where are they going?” “To find Kat,” Micah said, telling her to keep low. “It’s probably a trap so be ready.” Ready? For what? Crouching in her seat, Satine slid over to buckle herself into the seat Kenji had just vacated. Although Kenji wasn’t nearly as treacherous a driver as Desmond, she was still feeling a little carsick. However, it probably had to do more with Kat’s possibly deadly fate than the moving vehicle or twisty roads. “You think Rider had enough time to figure out where Kat was going before--“ The road in front of them exploded in a fireball of cement and asphalt. It took off a big chunk of the brick building that had once stood on the corner, and people screamed. Men and women in business suits scrambled out of the way and Kenji swerved to avoid running them over. “You okay?” Micah asked over the sounds of sirens and shouting, and when Satine nodded, he muttered, “Guess we’re in the right spot.” Kenji took a hard right, swerving again to avoid the ash colored debris that continued to rain down around them, and just as they were finally able to see the road again, slammed on the breaks. Micah and Satine were jerked back by their seatbelts, struggling to see over the seats. Micah grumbled something that sounded Italian and Satine’s breath caught when she saw the reason they were stopping. Standing in the middle of the road was one of Rider’s thugs. He was a giant of a man with spiky black hair and a silver ring through his nose, which was attached by a chain to a similar one in his ear. His entire body was covered with so many tattoos it was hard to tell what age or nationality he was, but the fangs he bared inches from Kat’s neck were all too clear. “Stay with Kenji,” Micah said, then he too was out the door before she could stop him. “Micah!” “Do not worry,” Kenji assured as he shifted the car into reverse, backed up, shifted again and swung a perfect U-turn. “Your friends will not let you down again, Miss Satine.” “Kenji, you really don’t have to keep saying ‘Miss’,” she said, feeling ridiculous considering the circumstances. “Satine is just fine.” “Forgive me. I’m afraid old habits die hard.” He smiled. “Even ancient ones.” “Are we going to get Desmond and Quinn?” She glanced out her window but Micah and Kat were already long gone. “Do you think Micah can stop him before--before…” She

swallowed hard, unable to get it out. If Kat was killed, it’d be all her fault. She’d never forgive herself, not now, not ever. “Your friend is still alive,” Kenji said softly, bringing the car to a stop on the roof of a parking garage she hadn't even noticed they’d entered. He got out and opened her door for her. “You may see for yourself.”

Chapter 77

She rushed out of the car to the edge of the concrete railing and looked down. It wasn’t what she expected. The street below was completely silent. There were no bizarrely-out-of-thiscentury clashing swords, no firing of guns, just deadly quiet as Micah stared down half a dozen of Rider’s thugs. “Move aside vampire,” one of them said in a thick accent, adding something Satine couldn’t understand in a language she’d never heard before. “He says their dispute is not with us,” Kenji translated quietly. She didn’t have to ask to know “us” meant Micah and Kenji, fellow vampires. “Well, see,” Micah said with a sigh, sliding his sword out. “It kind of is, because you had to go and steal something of ours.” “Give us the girl and you can have this one back in one piece,” the tattooed leader ordered brusquely. “Give us the girl and I’ll let you go back in one piece.” Swords were being drawn all around, and Satine once again wondered why they didn't just use guns. Perhaps they really were just that good. She glanced from Micah, to the gang of vampires and thought, Or that stupid. Foreign words were flung and fangs bared as the tattooed vampire’s brutes closed in, and Satine glanced nervously at Kenji. Micah was that good…right? Kenji’s lips curved into a serene smile and the twinkle in his eye calmed her down a bit. But just a bit. Down in the street, Kat’s eyes darted between her hostage taker and Micah. Satine hated this--the situation, the vampires, the waiting. And where were Desmond and Quinn? “One more step, and this human ceases to be,” Mr. Tattoos growled, gripping Kat tightly to his chest. “We’d hoped to make a trade, but she’s certainly expendable in the overall scheme of things.” A terrible smile graced his lips as he ran his tongue over his fangs. His eyes broadcasted the truth. He’d do it, alright. And he’d enjoy every second of it too. “Kenji,” Satine whispered, grabbing his arm. She was about to say that they had to do something, that she couldn’t just stand there and watch her best friend be taken by vampires-again--when suddenly another voice called out, “Enough.” Desmond appeared between Micah and the vampire gang, stepping out from an alley as calmly as if he were there to chastise a group of bickering children on a playground. Satine’s insides jumped in fear and anticipation--of what, she wasn’t quite sure yet--but the mere sight of him was enough to make her want to jump off the parking garage roof and force him to safety. He and Micah had suffered enough, she couldn’t let them get hurt again.

“Your Master’s qualm is with me, not them,” Desmond said, meeting the eyes of Kat’s vampire dead on as he continued forward. “She has nothing to do with this. Let her go.” “And why would we want to do that?” “Because I can offer you a much better hostage.” No, no, no…Satine gripped the railing, air becoming thinner and harder to breathe. “Oh yeah?” the vampire mocked. “And who might that be?” Desmond took another step. “Me.” From the look on that tattooed face, he knew a good deal when he saw one. Still, he wasn’t about to give in that easily, and Satine only prayed it didn’t end in more bloodshed. “You expect us to believe you’ll just waltz right on out if we give up the human?” His grip on Kat tightened and he glared at Desmond, suddenly asking, “Where’s the other one? I know he’s here, no funny business.” “Sorry I’m late.” Quinn stepped into the road behind them. Half the gang swung around to face him, fingers gripping metal, itching for a fight. Quinn ignored the deadly looks and blades and came to a stop just out of reach. Instead of answering, the lead vampire’s head shot up, his gaze landing directly on her, and Satine quickly backed away. She really hoped he wasn’t a Master Vampire, one who didn’t need eye contact to make her do whatever he wanted. The bunch on the street began to shift restlessly. Now that they were surrounded, maybe this wasn’t going to be as fun as they’d thought. “Alright then,” Mr. Tattoo said, keeping close watch, darting his attention between the four of them. “Step forward,” he ordered Desmond. “Right up close.” Desmond was already close enough to cover the ground between them in a few strides, and, blink and you’d miss it, the vampire was shoving Kat to the ground and grabbing Desmond around the neck. Gasping, Kat scrambled away, and Micah helped her up. Desmond stood still, his expression remaining neutral. “Now get outta here,” the tattooed vampire shouted at Micah and Quinn. “Before I change my mind.” “Time to go,” Kenji said, and turned to escort her back to the car. Torn, Satine couldn’t make herself leave. Desmond could take care of himself, she had no doubts about that, but if they took him…she shuddered at the thought. It was too close to the end, she needed him in more ways than one. The spell was escalating so quickly that she could actually feel her mind losing bits and pieces of itself with every passing hour. She was less and less concerned with finding a cure, to beating the curse, and more and more desperate just to end it, to give it what it wanted. “Satine…” With an awful ache in her heart, she took one last look at Desmond, trying to burn his image--dark hair, dark clothes, dark expression--into her mind forever. That man, that stubborn, confusing, beautiful man had better not go get himself killed. Willing him to look at her one more time, Satine finally gave up and turned towards the car. Kenji tried reassuring her that Desmond would be alright, but it didn’t help the sudden sickening emptiness she felt in the pit of her stomach knowing they were leaving Desmond behind with less than 24 hours until the real torture began. As the car exited the parking garage, Satine chanced one last look at the street. Desmond and the vampires were already gone.

Chapter 78

By 10:13 they were out of the city. By 11:00 Kat was asking them to pull over. By noon Satine’s world fell apart. It’d happened as they were driving past a field in the middle of nowhere; a serene, birds chirping, trees rustling in the light wind, this-is-where-you’d-have-a-picnic-and-play-Frisbeewith-your-dog kind of place that, under any other circumstance, would have been picture perfect. After getting out of immediate danger, and making sure everyone was okay, Satine had spent the entire car ride telling Kat everything that had happened to her since the day they were separated, ending with their arrival in the street, “and then we found you.” It all came flooding out in a jumble of words that probably didn’t make any sense, but by the time she was done baring her soul, she felt ten tons lighter. Kat had been a remarkably good listener, hardly interrupting her at all, and when Satine was done, asked Kenji to pull over. Worried Kat was thinking she’d finally gone insane, Satine hurried out after her friend. Micah and Quinn followed them at a respectable distance through the freshly cut green grass. Afterward, Satine would remember wondering who kept grass this nice out in the middle of a field. She would recall the smell of fresh air, the overly happy chirping birds, and the amusement she felt as she followed Kat and prepared to assure her that her best friend was not going out of her mind. It would be the last happy thought she’d have in a long time. “You know,” Kat said, her back to Satine as she stared out at the line of surrounding trees. “I never thought it would be like this.” “Like what?” Satine asked, joining Kat and looking up at the clouds. They were big fluffy happy clouds. The kind kids drew pictures of and saw animals in. Jokingly, she added, “That our backpacking through Europe trip would end up full of vampires?” Kat didn’t laugh. Frowning, Satine was about to ask what was wrong, when Kat solemnly said, “No. Like this.” Without warning, Kat swung around so fast Satine jumped back--Just in time to watch the wooden stake Kat had been hiding in her sleeve pierce right through the center of Micah’s chest. For a second everyone, Micah included, was so completely shocked that they could only stare. Satine blinked once then continued to stare in disbelief. Micah looked up from the stake with surprise, and when he fell to the exceedingly green grass, the world suddenly came rushing back with a bombardment of horror. “No!” Satine didn’t know what to do. Half of her was rushing forward to check on Micah, the other was hanging back, demanding to know what was wrong with Kat. Quinn made it to Micah and, brain still comprehending far too slowly, Satine swung around. “Kat, what did you do!” She didn’t know how he’d done it, she certainly hadn’t seen him move, but Kenji was now behind Kat, holding her arms behind her back and forcing her to remain still. A pistol was lying

on the floor at Kat's feet, and Satine felt like her head was going to explode with so many inconsistencies. Kat with a gun? Kat staking a vampire? What was going on here! Hovering in that awful moment just before understanding how truly bad a situation was, Satine breathed an uneasy, “Kat?” The woman she was looking at now was no Kat. At least not the Kat Satine had come to know and love like the sister she never had. That Kat had been playful and fun, smart and always there to back her up. This Kat glared back with such malice Satine might as well have been punched in the gut. “Rider warned me about you--all of you,” she said, voice matching the look on her face. “But even if they could do what he said…” She frowned at Satine. “I really didn’t think you had it in you.” Never in her life had Satine felt so betrayed, so beaten and ripped apart. Kat, her best friend, the only person in her life she’d ever trusted with all her secrets, even the boring ones, was a traitor. She’d been working with Rider this whole time, setting Satine up for the lowest of low blows, preparing for just the right moment to kick her when she was down. And it worked. Totally. Whatever minute ounce of hope or trust Satine had left was shattered in the realization that Kat hated her. Perhaps always had. Maybe their entire friendship from the moment they’d been assigned roommates in college had been a setup--a long con for the naïve little Miss Tierney. Tears flooded her eyes, and it might as well have been her heart that was staked instead of Micah’s. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything she’d ever known that was good and right in the world was just one big fat lie. Kat wasn’t her friend, and her parents had never told her what was in her blood. Had Max known all along too? She glanced from Kenji back to Quinn and Micah. Three total strangers. Were they playing her too? She was too crushed to hope for anything else. Kat let out a horrible laugh, sharp and biting, and Satine winced. “The look on your face,” Kat said, absolute delighted. “It was so worth it. All the hours of planning, pretending, just to get you to that stupid party. And then when he didn’t act there? I almost gave up, almost, but then you went and got yourself mixed up with this bunch.” Her hatred was back. “And I had to wait forever for you to finally find me again.” “You know,” she said, mocking, “for as smart as you are, Satine, you sure are dense. Whatever happened to trust no one?” The words bit like lemon juice poured over a thousand salted cuts. It had been a running joke between the two to shout, “Trust no one!” at each other whenever they’d leave their dorm room, especially if it was to go out a date with a guy neither of them really knew. Her heart heavy, Satine knew she would never trust another human being ever again. It was a sad moment, the unrecoverable kind. It was the loss of innocence when a child found out Santa wasn’t real, or the small part of the soul lost upon the realization of just how much death was. “How long?” Satine asked, numb, her body starting to shut down. What was the use of living when you knew you were going to die anyway? “How long have you been working with Rider?” Kat smirked, ignoring the question. “As much as I’d love for us all to stand here all day and have this conversation, we’re late.” She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to shout, HOW LONG?! Instead, in a flat, dead, voice, she heard herself ask, “Late?”

“Unless you want your other loverboy to be dead already by the time we get there, I suggest you come with me. Not you,” Kat said quickly, jerking her head at Kenji. “Or you.” Satine turned around, expecting Kat to be talking to Quinn, and instead found Micah sitting up rubbing his chest. At her astonished look, Kat sighed and rolled her eyes. “You really need to brush up on your vampire facts, Satine. Stakes may paralyze a vamp, but they don’t kill ‘em.” As relieved as she was that Micah was going to be okay, Satine was suddenly furious. “Why?” she asked, swinging on her ex-best friend. “Why would you do this!” Her whole body vibrated with rage, and the spell, which had become increasingly irritated ever since Desmond had been taken away, flared. If she’d been a cartoon, fire would have shot out of her ears. Not just steam--full on flames. A slow smile spread over Kat’s face and she met Satine’s gaze perfectly unruffled. She shrugged. “Why not?”

Chapter 79

Red. She was seeing red. Seething hatred and fury, and everything unjust and wrong in the world rained down around her, and Satine thought she’d explode. With a fiery passionate rage she’d never felt before, Satine lunged at Kat. “Satine stop!” And then her legs just refused to move forward. Flabbergasted, she looked down at them. It was like she’d hit some sort of invisible wall that simultaneously glued her feet to the ground. Talk about a strange feeling. “You’re just giving her what she wants,” Micah said, grunting as he got to his feet. How many lives did these people have? “You hurt her," he said, "you’ll just hate yourself for it.” “She staked you Micah,” Satine argued through clenched teeth. “Why wouldn’t you want me to hurt her?” “Because like it or not, she’s your best friend.” The truth hurt more than anything and Satine swallowed hard, voice thick as she corrected, “Was.” “Was your best friend. Which is why,” Micah said, favoring his left side as he came to a stop next to her, “you’ll never be able to do it.” With an exhale of breath, her spirit deflated like the pathetically sad shell of a person she was. He was right. As much as she hated Kat right now, she’d never be able to hurt her. Some irrational part of her heart still wanted to believe that none of this was real--that maybe Kat had been Influenced to do it even though Rider wasn’t a vampire. Micah placed a hand on her shoulder and she wanted so much to turn and collapse in his arms, to sob until she no longer cared. But she couldn’t--wouldn’t--give Kat, Rider, the whole freakin’ black-hearted lot of ‘em, the satisfaction. “Fine,” she said, straightening her spine and forcing her heart to go cold. “Let’s go then.” Kat glared up at Kenji and asked, “You mind?”

Kenji looked to Satine for the confirmation, and even when she nodded, he seemed reluctant to let the woman who had just staked Micah go. Even so, he slowly let up on his grip and Kat shrugged him off. She bent to pick up her gun and everyone tensed. “Aright,” she said, waving Satine and Quinn towards the trees. “Let’s get on with it then.” “Why do you need Quinn?” Satine asked, eyeing the gun. A stake might not have killed Micah, but a bullet would certainly do it for Quinn. “Because we can’t have you goin’ all crazy before the proverbial stroke of midnight, and Desmond might not be up to all we have in store by the time we get to him.” She still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe Kat, the woman who didn’t believe in violence, could be so cold, so ruthless. Satine could not believe that she would be walking towards unknown horrors with a gun pointed at her back and her best friend’s finger on the trigger. Trust no one, indeed.

Chapter 80

Satine lost all track of time, adrift in a numbing haze of shock. Kat led them through the trees and into another clearing, this one full of gnarled weeds that wound over a pathway leading up to an old abandoned factory of some sort. Huge rusting silos loomed over a boarded up shack, through which they entered to find a huge mirrored hall ending in a painting much like the one Satine had seen at Solaris’s house. Only in this one there were no people, no warm and comforting billiard room. This was a painting of a long black hallway lined with torches that ended in a door. A thick heavy black door with iron latches and no window, not even a peephole. Satine passed through the painting without so much as a blink of an eye, still too shellshocked to care where she was or what was happening around her. She might have passed out like before, but if she did, she didn’t remember it. They passed through the ominous door, over marble that echoed their footsteps down a series of dimly lit convoluted hallways, and somehow ended up sitting chained together on the cold wooden floor of someone’s office. Kat left with two guards Satine hadn’t even seen join them, and then there was silence. Silence and sorrow. It was all she had left. She was aware of Quinn next to her, but could only stare emotionlessly at the fake potted plant in the corner. All their hard work…for nothing. Micah staked, Desmond taken. They were going to lose. Quinn waited a long moment then softly started, “Satine…” but she interrupted him with, “Don’t.” He stopped. She didn’t want pity, couldn’t talk about it without breaking down. “Just don’t.” Her voice caught on the second “don’t” and try as she might, she couldn’t stop the tears from coming. This time they didn’t stop.

Grief poured out in torrents before she could pound it down with anger, and Satine buried her face in her hands, crying her heart out and hating herself for it. She despised her weakness, her ability to be so easily used, and her stupidity for seeing none of it headed their way. By trusting Kat she’d doomed them all. Without a word, Quinn pulled her into his arms and let her cry.

Chapter 81

She woke up with her head on Quinn’s lap and her eyes so swollen she could barely keep them open. That was the part about crying she hated the most--the unmistakable evidence of it the next morning. Or in this case, “What time is it?” she asked, sitting up and pushing the tangled mess that was her hair out of her face. “A quarter after four,” Quinn said without looking at his watch. She’d slept for almost three hours? He on the other hand, didn’t look like he’d moved at all, much less slept. Yet he didn’t look tired either. She didn’t know how he was still functioning. She felt like she could easily sleep another week or two. “Sorry you couldn’t move. You could have woken me up, or just shoved me off.” She probably would have kept on sleeping. “You needed the rest.” “Don’t you?” “I’ll sleep when this is over.” Who said it was ever going to be over? She’d barely gotten her eyes to focus on the dark office with no windows when the door opened and someone was shoved inside. The rush that always preceded Desmond slammed into her and she was instantly wide awake as he fell to his knees on the floor in front of them. “He insisted on seeing you,” Kat said, pressing Desmond further into the room with the toe of her shoe. A pistol was in her right hand but held loosely. Clearly she wasn’t too worried about him overtaking her anytime soon. “Even though I warned him it was a bad idea. He can barely stand as it is.” Desmond got to his feet. “Are you all right?” he asked Satine and Quinn without taking his eyes off Kat. What could she say? Physically she was fine, emotionally she was a wreck. She felt as bad as he looked. “Yes,” Quinn answered for them both. He made a move to stand up then paused, knowing he’d be bringing Satine with him. She nodded and he helped her up. Together, they watched Desmond carefully, both prepped to catch him should he start to fall. In the dark it was hard to see just how injured he was. Desmond took a step forward then stopped abruptly. Satine felt it too. A very much increased blast of hunger/lust/need that nearly knocked her off her feet. If Quinn hadn’t been attached, she might not have been able to hold herself back from literally throwing herself at Desmond.

Kat’s laugh was quick, sharp--a knife digging and twisting into her heart--and Satine refused to look at her. “I guess what they say is true,” Kat scoffed, glancing between the two. “Absence does make the heart grow fonder.” “Where’s your handler?” Quinn asked, and Satine forced herself to calm down. They’d lasted this long, she wasn’t about to blow it in the last 9 hours. Kat’s face hardened, her fingers closing tightly around the gun. “Because of you, he has found himself…inconveniently detained. And he’s not my handler,” she spat, obviously offended. “We’re partners.” So Rider was still alive. Oh goodie. “But thanks to Des here, he’ll be back up and running 110% in no time.” More like back up and torturing, Satine thought. “Is that what we’re doing?” she asked, forcing more anger than hurt into her voice. “Waiting for him to patch himself up before you kill us all?” “Oh I’m not going to kill you, Satine,” Kat answered with a smirk that shot another pang of regret Satine’s way. “I think you know me better than that.” “I don’t know you at all.” Heart heavy, Satine added, “I never did.” Kat sighed and rolled her eyes. “Of course you did. Or did you forget all the endless nights spent studying and gossiping over pizza? All the shared secrets and outwitting boys?” Satine closed her eyes, trying to block out her words, but they just kept coming. “How about our dorm room? The first week of school when we both thought we’d never make it through the next four years, or the three days we were snowed in in our first apartment with nothing but refried beans and soup to last us through the week?” “Stop,” Satine whispered, the memories to painful to remember. “What about Nate Jackson?” Kat asked, lowing her voice conspiratorially. “You can’t tell me you don’t remember him.” Satine swallowed the lump in her throat, assaulted by the sudden memory of Spring Break their sophomore year. She and Kat had spent one whole week trying to get the attention of Nate Jackson--up until then the most beautiful man Satine had seen in her life. He’d been way too old for either of them, the head of the resort they’d stayed at, and one unbelievable surfer. He’d smiled and taken in their schoolgirl crushes with grace, charm, and a good-natured sense of humor, telling them to come back in a decade or two and he’d really show them the best of the west coast. Nothing had ever happened between any of them, but the girls had spent the entire trip back fantasizing about his smile and how they’d spend their days out at sea with the “best of the west coast” Nate Jackson one day. “You always did make everything too complicated,” Kat said when Satine didn’t answer. “If you weren’t so melodramatic, you’d see that all of this is for your own good. In nine hours it’ll all be over and Desmond here will be your slave for life. I mean look at him--” she waved her non-gun hand in his direction. “He even puts Nate to shame. You can’t tell me that’s a bad thing.” The spell agreed. Satine did not. “No one is becoming a slave here,” she insisted, shoving back her memories and locking them in a tight box buried deep where even she couldn’t get to them. From now on she had to distance herself, learn how to harden her heart. She mentally tossed the key to that secret heart box far far away and vowed not to look back.

“Well I guess it could be you who ends up the slave,” Kat supposed, running a hand through her hair before studying her fingernails. “But Rider hasn’t made up his mind yet.” Two guards entered to tell Kat that they were “ready” (the only word they said), and Satine, Quinn, and Desmond were ushered out into the hall at gunpoint. But not before Kat handcuffed Desmond to Satine’s free wrist. Her right pinky brushed against the side of his hand and her breath caught. His skin was warm to the touch, too warm, as if it’d burn her finger if she held it there too long. Needing something to distract herself from her thoughts, she softly asked, “You okay?” As dark as the room, the hallway didn’t offer much more in the way of light. She could, however, sense the stiffness in his movement, the pain he was once again trying to hide from her. “As can be expected,” he answered, eyes remaining forward. “I would do your best to prepare yourself, though. What’s coming will not be pleasant.”

Chapter 82

“Not pleasant” was the understatement of the century. For the next four hours, Satine was poked and prodded, tested and studied like a lab rat. Wherever Rider was, he wasn’t showing his face, instead choosing to stand behind what was no doubt a whole mess of security cameras and “mirrors” as blood tests were run, shots were given, and his men, for lack of a better word, tried to figure out this anomaly that was Miss Satine Tierney. She was thrown in a bleak empty room with vampires to see how they would react, whisked away just shy of being bitten again, and into a white room where a scrawny little man in a lab coat took her temperature, blood pressure, and so many blood samples that she was left lightheaded by the time she finally ended up in a small room with a cot and Quinn. Unlike her, he was still in his own clothes. He took one look at the institution-like pajamas they’d given her and swore. “I’m fine,” she said, more tired than anything. He moved so she could sit. “Just a bunch of tests. Apparently no one really knows what to do with me.” She rubbed her arm where a particularly painful shot had been given, and asked, “Where’s Desmond?” “I don’t know.” Quinn stared at her arm. “Probably still sedated. He didn’t take them taking you away very well.” He unconsciously rubbed his own arm and muttered, “But then again, neither did I.” “I’m sorry,” she said finally, leaning back against the cool wall. “For not trusting you guys when you first showed up. For being so distant, so cold.” He looked at her with a crooked smile. “You were perfectly cordial considering you thought I’d been sent to court you.” “Court me, huh?” “Would you prefer “woo”?” he teased, and Satine laughed sadly, amazed at how good it felt to smile, even if it was sad. “You’re a good man, Quinn.” She squeezed his hand and softly added, “A good friend.” And she was very lacking in those lately.

“It’s not over,” he said, studying the sadness in her eyes. “Is this the part you tell me not to give up?” “Would it help?” “Sure, why not?” “Alright then, don’t give up.” She tried to smile but her heart wasn't in it. She’d been such a fool, placing all her trust in the wrong people. Satine was just about to ask him how the whole, ‘Alastair would back off if Quinn married her’ plan had come about, if it was even true or just an excuse to have them at her house, when a sudden and intense pain slammed into her back. Gasping, she nearly fell off the cot, turning around and expecting to see a man with a baseball bat standing there ready to take another crack at--“Ugh!” The invisible hitter swung again and this time she fell to her knees on the floor, expecting blood to start pouring down the back of her skull any second. But nothing else happened. No blood, no man with a bat. Quinn was on the floor with her, trying to ask what was wrong, but she couldn’t talk. It was taking a serious amount of concentration just not to black out. Another burst of pain cracked across her shoulder and Quinn grabbed her, pulling her back to the cot before her face could hit the floor. Hot. Cold. Pain! He was still talking, shouting by the looks of it, but she couldn’t hear a word he said. Instead, a strange man’s voice was yelling, “--Does it? Not so strong now are we?” “Who--I don’t--” she tried, but the voice just laughed and somehow she knew he was just getting started. “--tine!” She caught the last of her name and forced her eyes open, breathing hard. Quinn was kneeling in front of her, gripping her shoulders as tightly as she was gripping his and trying to…to what? The unbearable pain was growing and stretching, razor sharp teeth gnawing at the edge of her consciousness, threatening to devour her completely, and she struggled to say, “I…can’t--“ And then it was gone. Just as soon as it had started, the pain, the voice, everything was gone and she was once again sitting on the cot, cold, and remarkably unharmed. Disoriented, she touched the back of her head. Still no blood. “What just happened?” she gasped, frantically searching the room for the source of the voice, the pain. Surely this day couldn’t get any worse. Then again, they still had a few hours left. “I was just about to ask you.” And then she knew. “I think Desmond’s in trouble.” Duh, of course he was. “I mean--” “What kind of trouble?” Quinn just asked, waving away the obvious. “The kind that’s going to leave bruises,” she answered quickly, jumping to her feet and heading for the door. What she was going to do once she got there, she had no idea. “Whoa, hey, wait a minute.” Quinn stopped her. “We can’t let them do this, continue to…” Images of Desmond being used as a vampire gang’s chew toy interrupted her thoughts and she swallowed hard. “They may not kill him, but they’re definitely going to try to get as close as they can.” He didn’t ask how she knew this. “Even if we could get out of this room,” he said, “how do we even know where he is? They could be holding Des in a completely different facility, miles

away for all we know, and I have a feeling this place is crawling with more than just the usual security.” “Magic?” she asked, wondering why, if all the bad guys had wizard connections, was it so hard for them to find one to lift one little love spell? “Septimus found one for your spell, no doubt Rider knows about him too.” “Wait,” Satine said, an idea forming somewhere in the back of her mind. “What if we could get Rider to tell us who it was?” “The wizard?” “Yes.” Quinn shook his head. “Rider may be arrogant, but he’s not that sure of himself. Like he said, he wouldn’t give up his secret weapon this close to the end.” “What if he didn’t do it on purpose?” “You mean trick him?” “No, even I don’t think he’d fall for it, but,” she said, thinking of something even better than tricks. “What if someone could Influence him to do it?” “If Rider was just your normal bad guy, I’d say go for it,” Quinn said, apparently not surprised that she knew about vampire Influence. “By normal, do you mean human?” She felt a little sick to her stomach thinking Rider could somehow avoid a vampire’s powers. “I mean a guy who doesn’t surround himself with vampires.” Quinn paused to let it sink in. “Right.” The man had an entire army of vampires at his beck and call. An entire army that could easily Influence him and take over. Like Quinn said, Rider might be arrogant, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think his human will power alone was strong enough to beat a whole heard of angry vamps. “But Micah’s good, isn’t he? And I’m guessing Kenji’s pretty good too.” She was grasping at straws here. “Very good, both of them, but,” Quinn said, looking like he didn’t enjoy shooting down any of her ideas any more than she liked having them shot down, “Micah’s going to need time to recover from Kat’s staking, and whatever else they've done to him. No matter how good he pretended to be after the fact, that stake was silver-tipped, and he’s run into more than his fair share lately. He’s going to need Kenji to help him. He's going to need a lot of rest and--well, you don’t want to know what else.” She was pretty sure he was going to say blood and lots of it, but didn’t press on. “What if I could get the name out of Rider?” Satine asked, blocking out what it might take to do such a thing for the moment, and adding, “While they were running all the tests on me, there was one man, I don’t know if he was a vampire or not, whose only job it seemed was coming in to ask me if I was ready to cooperate with “the boss” or not. The first time I spit in his face, the second I’d like to think I bruised a couple of ribs.” Quinn quirked a smiled. “Good to know you’ve been paying attention in class.” “Better believe it. If I could get a name…” she trailed off, suddenly serious. Quinn glanced at his watch. “We’d have less than five hours to find the person, and that’s assuming he or she’d help us anyway.” It was a risk, a pretty big one, and her plan banked on a lot of assumptions being correct. She didn’t believe in coincidences, and lately her luck wasn’t exactly on the sunshine and rainbows side of life either. Little did she know, in ten seconds her plan (or lack thereof) wouldn’t matter anyway.

Chapter 83

“You, up, now!” a man ordered, busting into the room and stomping toward Satine. She instinctively drew back from the overbearing hulk that was glaring at her, and when Quinn jumped up to step between them, the angry man growled, “Fine, you come too, see if I care.” The next thing they knew, they were being jostled down another dim corridor with closed doors, and shoved into a massive office decorated in sleek metal and glass, all black and white and sharp edges. There was nothing comfy or remotely homey about this room, and upon first glance, Satine thought the entire back wall was one big window overlooking a dark metropolis. On closer inspection though, it wasn’t a window, but a mirror that had been painted on to give it that shimmery look. It was so clear though, it might have easily passed for the real thing. Or at the very least, a giant high definition TV screen. “She’s here boss,” their escort announced, poking Satine forward with his index finger and looking quite proud of himself. “Where do you want--” A pale hand moved out from behind the turned desk chair and pointed to another door. The finger poked her again and Satine walked forward, wondering why Rider was suddenly being all mysterious. And where was Kat? Desmond? Her question was partially answered when the door (even that was metal) opened and she and Quinn were led into a room that was the exact opposite of the office they’d just been in. Rich reds, blues, and purples adorned the plush furniture--a black overstuffed couch and two arm chairs--and a silver chandelier glittered from the center of the room above a huge wooden table with hand-carved claw feet. The polished wood paneled walls were inlaid with a sound-proof foam covered in silky black and gold fabric, and, although there were no windows, gossamer black curtains blocking the back half of the room from view flowed lightly in a breeze coming from a soundless fan in the corner. As loud as the color palate could have been, it wasn’t. Everything fit together, giving the circular room the feel of a comfy study one might retreat into after a long day. Satine felt like she’d just stepped back in time. To where and when she wasn’t quite sure, but there was a definite old feel to the room. She eyed the black curtains, behind which she could barely make out the outline of…a bed maybe? Strange, this was not at all where she pictured Rider wanting to unwind in at the end of the day. Although she’d never pictured him in a sleek and modern office working from behind a desk either. Something must not have set right with Quinn either, because once inside the room, he stopped, surveyed the strange decorations, and asked, “What is this?” The two men in the room ignored him completely, stepping back outside and closing the door behind them. “Hey!” Quinn’s only answer was the loud sliding of a deadbolt into place. He tried the door anyway, and Satine couldn’t stop staring at the mysterious softly flowing curtains. Why had they been brought here? Why not leave them in the tiny bare room with the cot? Something was very wrong.

Slowly stepping forward, Satine tentatively approached the curtains. The breeze from the rotating fan brushed against her cheek before silently moving back to the fabric. “This isn’t Rider,” Quinn said, backing up to stare at the door and then the surrounding room. “I mean I’ve certainly never been to his house before, but this…it just feels wrong.” She was at the edge of the bed now, her hand slowly closing around a handful of soft black fabric. Now that she was closer, she could see there was something on the bed, a dark form she couldn’t quite make out without pulling back the curtains. With the fan’s breeze kissing her arm and sending her hair wispily in the opposite direction, Satine pulled back the curtain, and gasped.

Chapter 84

“Bloody sadistic louts!” Quinn shouted loud enough for their captives to hear as he headed toward the bed with a severe look on his face. Satine was too horrified to speak and could only stare. “Is--what--is he still…?” Please, no… “This is a vampire’s doing,” Quinn said, shoving back the curtain, and getting closer. He cursed under his breath, but she saw his face. There was real pain there, real fear. Fear for his friend. “But a vampire working with a human.” Reaching the side of the bed, Quinn gingerly leaned forward, laying a hand on the crumpled form’s shoulder. “Des?” he asked softly, waiting for an answer before moving to look for a pulse. “Desmond, it’s Quinn, can you hear me?” There was no answer, and Satine could only stare at the unconscious man lying crumpled on the giant fur-covered bed. Like the room, the bed was round. In stark contrast to the black fur blanket, Desmond was white as a ghost. Wherever he wasn’t bruised, that is. His arms were riddled with track marks where needles had been repeatedly inserted, no doubt to take blood before drugging him into sleep. Desmond must have fought off his attackers, because where there weren’t needle marks, there were big welts and bruises, about the size of a man’s fist. Or foot. There was a long bruise across his back that looked like it had probably come from a crowbar, and the lower half of his body was twisted in a thin white sheet. His shoes and left sock were missing. At least he still had his pants, ripped and torn though they may be. Satine knew she'd felt only a minute portion of what Desmond had been through and couldn’t imagine anyone could be this inhumane. Hadn’t Desmond been through enough? Did everyone have it out for him? “Quinn,” she said with sudden realization, as he continued to try and revive his friend. “His pulse is thready, weak, but he’s alive.” Quinn gingerly turned Desmond over, lightly tapping his cheek. “Des, hey come on mate, wake up.” “Quinn,” Satine tried again, ears growing hot with panic. He looked up and she could only whisper, “I don’t feel him anymore.” Quinn stared blankly at her a moment, then suddenly gave her a sharp look. He understood what she was saying, and was just as alarmed as she was.

The constant annoying drag of the supernatural connection she and Desmond had was gone. Satine no longer felt even the slightest prickle of his presence, and that was while standing just a few feet away. “This is not good,” Quinn muttered, pulling off his jacket and carefully sliding it beneath Desmond’s head. “Not good at all.” Determined to make it better, Satine shoved the annoying curtains out of the way and sat down on the bed, taking Desmond’s hand. Out of habit, she checked his forehead. He was ice cold. She had to stare at his chest for a good ten seconds before she saw it rise and fall in a very shallow breath. Quinn was right. Desmond was dangerously near death. “Why would Rider do this?” she asked, her hatred of the man growing with every second. “He already had us here, all he had to do was wait.” Quinn shook his head, moving quickly, checking Desmond’s breathing, pulse again, and pupils. “Like I said, there was something wrong about this place the second we got here. Rider may hate us, hate Desmond, but he’d have no reason to bleed him like this.” Bleed? “Then who would?” Satine asked, flitting her gaze down Desmond’s body, checking for any outwards signs of more trauma, broken bones, fang marks. “I don’t know.” Once they’d determined that, despite his angry looking bruises, Desmond didn’t have any broken bones, nor had he been actually bitten by a vampire, Quinn laid his palm flat on Desmond’s chest. He stared hard at his unconscious friend like a doctor trying to will his patient back to life. Finally, he removed his hand and Satine let out the breath she’d been holding. “Is he going to be alright?” Quinn looked from her to Desmond and back, his expression torn. “What?” she asked, chest tightening in anticipation. “He’s not going to like this but we don’t have any other choice.” “Quinn--” Was he going to tell her or not? “What do you need? What can I do?” She shifted on the bed in her strange pajamas and wished she had more to offer, anything to help. Why hadn’t she gone into medicine or something useful? Quinn was rearranging Desmond’s limbs into a more comfortable position, propping his head gently up and smoothing out the sheet like a mother fawning over her sick child. “You can make out with Desmond,” he said, so serious and quickly, she did a double-take. “What? Quinn, that’s not funny.” “Do you see me laughing?” He finished rearranging the sheet, moving back to stand across the bed from her. No, he definitely wasn’t laughing. In fact it was the most serious she’d ever seen Quinn before, and that scared her. “But…how can that possibly help?” She glanced at the door. Even if by some miracle it did, wouldn’t their captors just come rushing in and take over again? What did they want anyway? One second she was being shoved at Desmond, the next taken away. Did they even know what they wanted? Or was this finally their way of forcing her to do what she’d been trying to avoid all week? Would it even help? As jumbled thoughts raced through her mind, bouncing off each other and making no sense, Satine glanced down at Desmond. She didn’t have a choice. He was dying, and whatever connection they had, used to have, might have again, Quinn seemed convinced that it was enough to bring Desmond back. But at what cost? Would he wake up her slave? She his? How much time did they have before zero hour?

“I can’t explain it now, and I don’t even know if it’s going to work, but it’s our only choice here,” Quinn said, giving her an imploring look. “Think about it. Des has been blown up, beaten, cursed, stabbed, and who knows what else over this past week, but he’s always managed to regain his strength, and you always happened to be around.” She couldn’t explain it either, but it was true. Somehow, Desmond had managed to escape death more times than she could count. Still, she shook her head. “How do you know it’s me? I mean, he’s strong, he’s stubborn, maybe--” “Satine, please,” Quinn interrupted, a desperate edge to his voice. “We’re running out of time.” She’d been gripping Desmond’s hand this whole time and could feel his pulse weakening even as they spoke. Her bouncing thoughts shot a quick assessment through the past week: Desmond could take away the awful burning, and all he’d had to do was touch her. She immediately knew when he was close. He’d miraculously recovered from being stabbed--she didn’t know how and couldn’t think about it now--once by a tree, then by Rider, but this? It was putting a lot of faith in the fairytale power of kisses. Everything else could have been explained by luck, skill, and the fact that he was already in ridiculously good shape. Even Rider’s knife. He could have twisted out of the way, avoiding a fatal blow like he had the tree when diving in to save Tonks. Maybe it looked a lot worse than it was. Sure it was. And vampires don’t exist. Satine stared down at Desmond’s pale form, thinking he needed a blood transfusion, not a kiss. What he needed was a hospital. Unfortunately all he had was her. “The curse links you,” Quinn reminded, urging her onward. “Your nerves start going haywire, his calms them down. His body’s shutting down, yours could wake it back up.” Even if it did work, what then? “Satine--” “Okay,” she interrupted, forcing herself to stop thinking. “Okay, just--give me a second.” Shifting on the huge bed, she licked her suddenly dry lips. Staring down at Desmond, she soothed his hair back. He looked so innocent, so weak. So not Desmond. A tear slid down her check and landed on his. She quickly brushed it away then at her eyes. It wasn’t easy to see such a strong and stubborn man, a fighter, so broken. So tortured because of her. Don’t give up, Des, she willed silently. Please. We need you. Praying this would work, she made up her mind. She might not understand him and he might drive her crazy, possibly--no, make that probably--even hated her, but Desmond had saved her life more times than she could count. She owed him. Taking in a deep breath to steady herself, she thought, You can do this, it’s just a kiss--one you've been itching for this whole time, and leaned forward.

Chapter 85

She was less than an inch away from his mouth, scared, nervous, and excited with her heart beating wildly, when suddenly--his eyes snapped open.

Astonished, she had about half a second to gasp before she was flung onto her back and pinned to the bed, with a furious looking Desmond glaring down at her. “Des--Des!” Quinn leapt forward to grab him. With a strength that came from nowhere, Desmond shook Quinn off, ignoring him and gripping Satine’s shoulder’s tighter as he somehow managed to shoot her a look that was both ice cold and blazing fire. In an instant the good ol’ spell woke up and the usual bombardment of feeling and emotion slammed into her so hard that, for a second, she thought she’d black out. Satine didn’t move, couldn’t if she’d wanted to. For the first time she’d known Desmond, she was scared. Really scared. “Desmond stop, get off her,” Quinn ordered, not one to be easily tossed aside. “It’s us-Quinn and Satine.” The words had no effect. Satine’s full attention was glued to the man hovering above her. He was still glaring at her, hatred flowing off him in waves fraught with dark and dangerous desire. Quinn started forward again, but Satine raised her fingers, holding him back. Neither of them wanted Desmond to get hurt. Clearly he had no idea what was going on, hadn’t recognized them yet. She hoped. Slowly, very carefully, Satine met his gaze and softly said, “Desmond? It’s okay. It’s…” She really hoped his hatred wasn’t directed at her personally, or they were in big trouble here. “It’s Satine.” For a moment that seemed to stretch into days, he just stared at her, cold, unfeeling. And then something clicked. Desmond was off the bed and on the other side of the room, turning his back on both of them before Satine could even blink. Still trying to shake off his sudden awakening, she sat up. It was Quinn's turn to hold out a hand to stop her and she didn’t argue. She wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Cautiously, Quinn took a step towards Desmond. She had no idea what either man was thinking, but the prevalent thought going through her mind at the moment was, How is he not falling? Once again Desmond amazed with his super-human strength. Stubbornness, thy name was Desmond. She doubted he would faint in her presence if he could help it. “Des?” Quinn tried again, cautiously taking another step. It was like watching a caged tiger, all coiled energy and taunt muscles, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Without turning around, Desmond asked in a low voice, “What time is it?” “We have a little over four hours,” Quinn answered, knowing exactly what it was he was asking. Confirming the timeframe, the spell brought Satine to her feet. Desmond was alive. She could feel him again, and by some miracle he was still alive. She moved without thinking towards him and a blast of heat stopped her in her tracks. She staggered back in surprise. “Do not,” Desmond said so abruptly and with such force, she froze to the spot, “Move. Any. Closer.” He spaced his words slowly and with definite precision. Afraid the slightest wrong movement would cause disaster, Satine whispered, “Why not?” Still frozen, she shifted her gaze from side to side. The room was still empty aside from Quinn and the softly billowing curtains. If there was an immediate danger, she couldn’t see it. She wasn’t about to chance it though, and held her breath, straining to hear what was coming and preparing for the worst. Soundlessly, Desmond ignored her question and turned to face her. Her heart skipped a beat. Gone was the hatred and desire she’d seen before. The expressionless shield was back in

its place, and it frustrated her to no end that he could do that. She no doubt had every unspoken word, thought, and feeling written all over her own face, not to mention the invisible waves radiating off her thanks to the curse’s supernatural broadcast. She glanced sideways at Quinn wondering if he could feel it too. The tension. The desperation. The need. Quinn avoided her gaze and cleared his throat, turning to Desmond instead. “Where’s Rider?” “Not here.” “Where did he go?” Satine asked, and for a split second Desmond’s stern ‘I’m fine’ look slipped. She might have missed the slight half-blink heaviness of his eyelids or the tensing of his jaw, if not for the sudden weakness in her own body that accompanied it. Suddenly she couldn’t care less about Rider, or anything else for that matter, because even the half-a-room distance between her and Desmond was too much. An invisible hand reached out to pull her forward and it took all her strength not to follow it. It continued its sinuous trek, wrapping its icy fingers around her heart and wiggling its way into her very soul--breaking down her barriers and playing on some deep seeded fear of being alone. Utterly, desperately, and completely alone. The cold was oozing into her blood, a black and deadly poison chasing away any hopes or dream she might have had of happiness. If she didn’t step forward, make some sort of human contact, Satine knew she was going to be swallowed up completely by that black hole. “Guys?” she whispered, still frozen and scared out of her mind. She gave Desmond a pleading look. Just one touch, just a brush of a hand, a finger, that was all she needed. Her thought veered off track when the temperature in the room suddenly dropped, and she finished, “What is that?”

Chapter 86

As she watched, the air in the room began to ripple and shimmer like the mirage of water on the road on a hot day. “What’s what?” Quinn asked, but she barely heard him. Entranced, Satine walked forward, hand outstretched. The shimmering wall in front of her had a very calming quality, and she couldn’t help but want a closer look. A clear waved rippled over Desmond’s half of the room and he slowly began to fade. It was a strange sensation, like watching a leaf float above the water before softly sinking into the unknown depths of a lake. She was almost close enough to touch it, and just as her fingers reached out to brush the smooth welcoming surface of the mirage, the entire right side of the room exploded. Large chunks of purples and blues were blasted her way, and Satine dove out the way. Desmond and Quinn, who both must have seen it coming, moved faster, knocking furniture aside on their way to get to her. Diving over the overturned couch, Desmond grabbed her around the waist, rolling her out of the way of the plunging chandelier as Quinn rammed his shoulder against a bookcase that came this close to flattening them both like a pancake. Wasting no time, Desmond glanced once over her to make sure she was still in one piece then yanked her to her feet, told Quinn to watch her, and leapt up and over the bed.

She tried to yell, tried to figure out what was going on, but Quinn wasn’t paying any attention and Desmond was already gone through the huge billowing dust cloud. Seeing a way out Satine certainly didn’t, Quinn was already heading after Desmond. He grabbed her arm and took her with him. Loud shouts were coming from the other side of the still intact door, and Satine realized that whatever just happened, it was as much of a surprise to the bad guys as it was to her. A loud hissing noise sounded and she didn’t have to be an expert to recognize a gas leak when she heard one. Oh please not another explosion, she silently prayed as Quinn pulled her through the rubble, over the jagged remains of the colorfully decorated room and into another cloud of dust--this one of a decidedly more earthly mix. Plaster and paint gave way to dirt and grass, and just as her lungs felt like they were going to explode from lack of oxygen and too much exertion, the air finally cleared. She fell to the grass, hating whoever had invented explosives, gasping and not caring that she was getting wet. Or that it was dark out. Or that someone had just taken out a place crawling with very angry vampires who were probably on their way after them right now. They were alive! That was good enough for now. “C’mon,” Quinn said, giving her only a moment’s breath before urging her back to her feet. “We have to keep moving.” And then they were running again. Slippery grassy hills gave way to trees, and soon Satine was cursing Rider’s people for the thin pajamas and paper booties they called slippers. The soles were no thicker than poster board, and soon her feet were slathered in mud, her sleeves torn from spindly branches that refused to move out of the way despite Quinn and Desmond’s best efforts to shove them aside. She felt like they’d been running for hours, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes before they finally made it to a clearing--a grassy spot in the woods just big enough to land a helicopter in. And helicopter there was. “Benny!” Desmond called, reaching the waving pilot first and slapping him on the back. “Remind me to buy you whatever new car you want when we get home.” “Oh I won’t be forgettin’ that one Des,” the Minnesotan said, eyes shining as he helped Satine inside. “No siree.” “You my friend,” Quinn told him, jumping in behind Satine, “are one blessed sight for sore eyes.” “Ah shucks you two, stop. You’re makin’ me blush.” He winked at Satine and pulled the door shut. Benny made his way around to the flight controls, and Satine suddenly realized they had another passenger. “Solaris,” Quinn said, nodding to the always pristine looking vampire whose long whiteblond hair seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the windows. “Decide to come along for the ride?” The edge of a perfect pale mouth lifted into a smile and Solaris nodded back. “It’s nice to get out of the house every now and again.” Satine mentally shook her head in amazement. Did nothing phase them? The rotating blades sped up and Benny took off as Desmond looked out the window and asked, “Micah?”

“He is recovering nicely under Kenji’s watchful eye,” Solaris said. His calm gaze moved over Satine, taking in her frazzled and dirty appearance. “Miss Tierney,” he said politely, dipping his head cordially in her direction. “Good to see you again.” “Thank you,” she answered, unable to get herself to return the favor. She was, of course, very glad for their sudden and unexpected rescue, but there was still something about Solaris that creeped her out. Averting his gaze, she turned to thank Benny. “Don’t thank me yet,” he answered, looking out the window. They hadn’t quite cleared the swaying trees yet. A phone began ringing, and Benny leaned to the left. “Back pocket,” he said, bracing the controls as a huge gust of wind threatened to take them back down into the trees. Quinn reached over and dug out the phone, took one look at the caller ID and answered it. The conversation was quick and mostly one sided, with whoever was on the other end doing most of the talking. Hanging up, Quinn announced, “Don’t get too comfortable Benny. Looks like we’re going to have to take her back down.” “What?” Benny shouted. “That was Micah,” Quinn shouted back over the rain. “Is he okay?” Satine asked. “I guess our Compass Man came through after all. Said he got a lead. Micah says he thinks they found our wizard--or, I guess, Septimus’s. ” It was the best news she’d heard in days. Even Desmond turned from the window to look at Quinn. “Let me guess,” he said dully. “We just left him.” “Probably being held against his will.” So much for good news. Satine’s brief elation sank, as did her whole body into the black leather seat. They had to go back? “You can’t go back,” she said suddenly to Desmond. He’d barely lived through last time, there was no telling what the vampires would do to him now that Rider had apparently recovered and flown the coup. Quinn had been pretty sure the room they’d found Desmond in wasn’t Rider’s, so whose was it? And who was “The Boss”? Looking back, she’d never seen the face of the person sitting in that chair. Desmond’s expression didn’t change. Before he could ask something along the lines of, “Oh really? And just who’s going to stop me?”, she said, “Desmond they practically drained you--and don’t tell me that was all they did, because I felt the blows, the pain. Why didn’t you fight back?” she asked, suddenly realizing that, despite all the bruises, all his struggle, he hadn't really fought that hard to free himself. How could he just let them use him as a punching bag? Quinn caught her eye, casting a sideways look at Desmond and obviously trying to get her to shut up. Both she and Desmond ignored him. “You really want to know?” Desmond asked. This time Quinn’s narrowed warning was for him. Solaris watched the entire exchange with a mildly interested, half amused look on his face, and Satine wondered who he was pulling for in their most frequent fight. Then again, he hadn’t been around them since she’d first arrive at his house, so maybe he was just amused at how their relationship had progressed this last oh-so-lovely week. “Look guys, this weather’s getting rough here,” Benny interrupted, giving neither side a win in the argument. “What’s the game plan?” Rain continued to beat against the windshield and he

was having to work to keep them in the general vicinity without sending them headfirst down into the dark mass of trees and forest. Satine met Desmond’s gaze, daring him to override her. He was in no shape to go back, not when they would be met with even more than the usual hostility. “They won’t hurt me,” she argued. “For whatever reason, they need me alive.” “And when the clock runs out?” he asked. “What then?” Argh! His conversationally bored tone was driving her nuts! Did he have to be condescending all the time? “Hopefully,” she shot back, “by then we’ll have found the wizard and this whole mess will be over!” “You will both have to return,” Solaris said softly, and for a second Satine thought they had another traitor in their midst. But then he said, “You will both need to be present if you hope to break the spell.” She had the frustrating feeling that Desmond, along with everyone else but her, had thought of and known this the whole time, and she didn’t deny the childish urge to glare hard at him. Crossing her arms, she muttered, “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” “Has any of this been a good idea?” Quinn pointed out, and that was the end of that conversation. “Don’t you think someone should check up on your underwater friend?” Benny asked suddenly, having given up trying to keep them in one spot. He was now circling the helicopter around the trees, looking for another place to land. The rain was getting worse. “I mean these guys don’t exactly strike me as the type to leave a lot a’ loose ends hangin’ around.” “He’s right,” Satine said. “Look at Peter, Dori…” Poor Dori. And even if he did live through all this, how was Satine supposed to keep Peter safe? “He doesn’t have a phone,” Quinn said, and no one spoke for a good five seconds. Someone was going to have to go to check on the mysterious underwater man with the cowboy hat, and one of them would have to be Benny. Their only ride out of this nightmare. Although she knew they had to check on The Compass Man, who had surprised them all at the last minute by coming through when they really needed the help, Satine also knew the dangers of leaving her alone with Desmond. “Solaris could go with us,” she said, breaking the silence. “I mean, it’d help to have a vampire on our side, right?” Solaris raised an eyebrow, and said, “While I am flattered you would ask, I’m afraid very bad things tend to happen when Septimus and I are in the same place. I could, unfortunately, not guarantee your safety.” Whoa, back up. Septimus was going to be there? Another thought hit her. Had he been there all along, and if so, why hadn’t she felt him? “She’s right,” Desmond said, surprising them all and breaking Satine out of her thoughts. He looked at Quinn then Solaris, and added, “We’re going to need a good distraction.” Solaris pondered this a moment, but before he could answer, loud pings began sounding off the side of the helicopter. Everybody grabbed for a handhold as Benny veered to the left, and Satine’s first thought was, “Hail?” “Not hail,” Quinn said at the same time Benny shouted, “We’ve got company!” She slammed into Desmond as the helicopter took another stomach lurching plunge, and as she pulled herself off him, heard him growl, “Bullets.”

Chapter 87

Whether Septimus was there or not, his men hadn’t given up so easily after all. As Benny sought another landing place in the storm, at least some of Septimus’s men had managed to get close enough to clear the trees to begin firing. Bullets ricocheted off the black metal, the pingings getting closer and more frequent. Everyone except Solaris ducked for cover. “Taker her down!” Desmond had to yell to be heard over the rain and gunfire. “Down where?” Benny shouted back as a bullet meant for the windshield deflected off a rotating blade and sparks shot through the night. If they didn’t do something fast, trees or no trees, they’d be landing right there whether they liked it or not. “There!” Grabbing onto Satine and forcing her lower as the nearest window shattered, Desmond pointed to what looked like a mass of water in the distance. “Just get us close enough to jump.” “Wait a minute, jump?” Satine asked skeptically. They were seriously going to try and jump out of an out of control helicopter in this weather? “Are you crazy? We’ll all--“ Everything jerked to the right again, Benny grabbed the controls, and then they were falling. Fast. By some combination of mad skills and a miracle, Benny managed to find the lake. The door with the missing window flew open, Satine heard, “Now!”, and suddenly she was throwing herself out of a crashing helicopter, barely managing to suck in a lungful of air before water closed over her head. All noise ceased to exist. Cold. Wet. Nothing. The water was freezing! Kicking hard towards the surface--or at least where she hoped the surface was--Satine reached blindly towards the thought of air. Her hand met only with more swirling waves of darkness, and on the verge of panic, she kicked hard, fighting in another direction. Two strong arms suddenly surrounded her waist and urged her to follow. She did. Coughing and gasping, Satine pulled herself up onto the bank, so thankful to be alive she half slid, half army-crawled the rest of the way to the relative safety of a nearby bush and collapsed, exhausted. If she was going to be shot, so be it. She needed time to catch her breath and thank the good Lord for keeping her surrounded with superheroes. “Are you all right?” a voice much too calm for having just survived an emergency helicopter escape and near-drowning asked. Satine looked up to find Solaris watching her. Somehow even dripping wet he managed to look ethereal and composed. If she wasn’t mistaken, he had also managed to avoid all the mud that was currently splattered all over her. She took quick stock of her organs, was glad to see all limbs had made the trip intact, and nodded her head. “I think so. Thanks.” She managed a weak smile then looked around. “Where’s everybody else?”

Solaris gazed out towards the water. “I believe Desmond and Quinnlan are making their way to us now and, oh yes,” he was back near the water, “here’s Benny now.” He pulled the pilot out like it was nothing. In a repeat of Satine’s performance, Benny coughed and gasped, gaping from the vampire to the water where his helicopter was nowhere to be seen, and back again. Solaris stood him on his feet and brushed at the foliage plastered all over Benny. “All right then?” he asked. “I’m thinkin’ it’ll be harder ‘n ever to get Des back on a helicopter after this,” Benny said, wiping water and mud out of his face only to be soaked again instantly by the rain. Quinn and Desmond appeared, thankfully unharmed, and first asked, “Everybody okay?” They were all alive and conscious, so that was a good start. “Lucky you saw that lake there Des.” Desmond gripped Benny’s shoulder. “Even luckier we had you as a pilot.” He glanced up at the sky then at the lake and said, “But you’re still not getting me up in that experimental deathtrap of yours.” “I’ll be lucky to get you back on a plane after this.” Glancing between the two men, Satine wondered what else besides helicopters and planes Benny knew how to fly. “Experimental deathtrap” didn’t sound very promising. “Whatever the change of plans,” Solaris said, casting a glance across the lake. “We had better start moving. Our welcoming committee appears to be approaching fast.” Satine squinted through the rain, straining her eyes and ears for any sign of movement. Nothing. Must be nice to have ultra-enhanced vampire senses. “How many?” Quinn asked and Solaris cocked his head slightly to the side, studying the air. “Six,” he said finally. He sounded neither surprised nor worried that half a dozen armed men might come crashing through the trees any second. “All human.” Was that disappointment in his voice? “Which explains why they are taking so long to get here.” Satine thought of the rough uneven forest floor and thick sand of trees. If they didn’t slow you down, the mud certainly would. She gave them at least a few more minutes before the guys with guns arrived. “Alright let’s move.” Desmond started deeper into the woods and when both Quinn and Benny turned in the opposite direction, Satine asked, “Wait, you’re not coming?” “We’re still going to need a way out of here,” Quinn answered. “Benny and I will try to reach Kenji and Micah. If we’re lucky, we’ll have another ride before you guys get back.” He pulled out a small silver knife and handed it to her handle first. “You remember how to use this?” She nodded and took it. The metal was cool to the touch and she couldn’t help glancing around nervously as she went to slide it into her pocket, then remembered that she didn’t have any. Quinn frowned at her thoroughly soaked pajamas and called Benny over. “Have a blanket or anything in that ride of yours?” “Of course,” Benny answered. “’cept we gotta find the helicopter first before we can search for the blankets.”

“Ah, how very rude of me,” Solaris said suddenly, joining them and taking off his long burgundy jacket. He wrapped it around Satine. “I sometimes forget the human vulnerability to weather.” She felt weird taking it, but wasn’t about to argue. She was soaking wet, freezing, and basically dressed in tissue paper in a downpour. The jacket was surprisingly warm, and also seemed to come with the added benefit of completely repelling water. Surprising since it looked like it was made of velvet. “Thank you,” she said, and Benny wished them luck. Satine watched him and Quinn disappear into the rain as she turned to follow Desmond and Solaris into the trees. Looked like Solaris wasn’t going to be able to avoid the trip back to the compound after all. She only hoped they all lived through it.

Chapter 88

Sometimes the things you expect to be the hardest actually turn out to be the easiest. Finding their way back into the strange mix of contradicting rooms was one of them. Clearly no one expected them to try and sneak back in, and had concentrated their search efforts on the surrounding woods. Nevertheless, Desmond held up a hand at every corner, checking and double-checking any sound that might signal the approach of one of Septimus's men. Or worse, one of his vampires. On their very wet, very muddy run back, they’d decided the wizard was probably being kept underground, as far away from rescue as possible. Desmond warned that the place was probably heavily warded, and once again Satine was reminded of how very bizarre her life had become. With Solaris their eyes and ears, they were easily able to avoid the occasional straggler, and were soon standing at a thick metal door that looked more like an entrance to a dungeon than a basement. The lack of guards in the thickly carpeted hallway was more than a little unsettling. “A trap?” Satine whispered, glancing nervously around as Desmond studied the door. She’d had to keep close to him because the stupid spell kept flaring up every time they were more than a few feet apart. It was incredibly frustrating and resulted in more than a few bumps and glares when he halted suddenly or she stepped on his heels. Solaris had found it all very amusing, suggesting they hold hands like school children to keep from getting lost. To him she must have looked like a scared little kid grappling for something to hang onto. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to get away from Desmond, away from the constant need, and away from this place. The door of doom wasn’t the only thing creeping her out. Every time they turned down a dimly lit corridor or ducked into a shady alcove she had the feeling they were being watched. It was like the walls themselves had eyes, and once, when they’d found a long line of silent knights, she could have sworn one of them did. “I agree, it doesn’t feel right,” Desmond said in low voice, still studying the complicated looking lock--all sprockets and gears. It was like someone had taken the inside of a very complex watch, blew it up, and slapped it on the door. “But we’re here,” he added. “Might as well have a look.”

She just hoped whatever was behind that door didn’t come equipped with wings and the hot breath of flames. Or fangs. She wasn’t big on fangs either. As Solaris moved to help Desmond with the lock, Satine couldn’t help glancing at her wrist, the dark hallway, and back. She really wished she had a watch. They’d taken hers when they took her clothes. How much time had passed? How much was left? Her level of anxiety suggested that whatever time it was, they were getting closer and closer to the end. And that it wouldn’t be pretty. “About time,” Desmond mumbled, and with a shifting and cranking of a hundred different gears, the door clicked and slid open. Something glinted off the firelight from the nearest torch and Satine realized that Desmond wasn’t just grumbling. The lock had really been about time. In the center of all that gadgetry, a single small, ancient-looking hourglass sat in what looked like a huge revolving diamond. The sand, which must have been trickling through top to bottom just moments before was now frozen mid-stream, as if time itself had taken a break just to let them through. She wanted a closer look, but there was no time (no pun intended), and soon she was half walking, half running down yet another hallway--uncarpeted--that branched off into two completely dark tunnels. Without hesitation, Desmond took the one on the left, and she scrambled to keep up with him as they hurried down a long set of stone stairs. After nearly sending them both headfirst down the winding staircase, Desmond took Solaris’s advice and grabbed Satine’s hand. She instantly forgot about trivial things like trying to remain upright or see in the dark, because she didn’t have to. It was remarkably easy to move now that they were touching. His hand was a welcome warmth in hers, strong and solid, and her mind inevitably drifted to other places she could use strong, solid, heat…other places that hand might touch… Stop it Satine, she silently chastised. Now was so not the time! The only sound came from their footsteps on the cold stone. Solaris, of course, was as silent and graceful as a ghost, and Satine pictured that same amused glint in his eye as he watched the poor night-vision deprived humans try to feel their way down into the…what? Dungeon? Torture chamber? The stairs spiraled on forever, and just when Satine was starting to get dizzy, Desmond stopped. Behind her, Solaris did the same. They waited. Satine strained her ears for any sign of movement. In the silence that followed, an unspoken conversation took place between the two men standing next to her, some sort of argument that Solaris must have won, because with a wave of his hand telling them to go on, he turned and ascended back up the stairs, disappearing into the dark. Clearly not happy with the vampire for leaving, Desmond took Satine’s arm and they continued on. They came to a stop in a round stone room with a vaulted ceiling. Three archways stood an equal distance apart and two dim lanterns hung on the smooth wall off the center tunnel. It was so quiet Satine felt like her every breath, even the sound of her heartbeat was magnified a hundred times. As they made their way into the center of the room, their shadows flickering lazily behind them, Satine glanced over her shoulder. Still no guards. Were they going the wrong way? Shadows followed like silent stalkers, watching, waiting. The dim light was making her sleepy and paranoid all at the same time.

“Which way?” Satine whispered, turning back to look at the archways. “Any preference?” “You’re asking me?” Desmond’s gaze drifted from one black archway to the next. “I’d like to try door number two, Monty.” He took one of the lanterns off the wall and she followed him down the center hallway, resisting the urge to grab onto his arm. She settled on talking to him instead. “I’m no horror movie expert,” nor was she the helpless sorority girl who usually got killed off in the first five minutes, “but this place has got one super creepy vibe goin’ on.” She could feel the darkness getting darker, closing in and sliding around them, curious about the newcomers. “It’s the wards,” Desmond answered quietly. “The magic--watch your step.” He turned to shine the light of the lantern towards her as she stepped over a loose brick in the otherwise smooth floor. “The magic,” he continued, “is stronger this way.” “We’re getting closer.” “Yes.” He kept moving. “The big question though, is to what?” They fell into silence, continuing on. The tunnel didn’t get any more accommodating. With every step it got a little harder to breathe, and Satine didn’t know if it was the dark, the magic, or just the fact that they were so far underground, but after a few more minutes, she had to stop. “Hold up a sec.” The light was getting further away. The walls were closing in. Her chest ached. “Desmond?” Why was he still moving? Didn’t he hear her? Suddenly terrified that she’d be left alone in this endless stretch of damp darkness, she closed her eyes. Breathe, just breathe. She’d never been claustrophobic before. Figures it’d hit her now. A severe wave of vertigo came out of nowhere, and she staggered to the wall, unable to keep her focus on the disappearing lamplight. She squeezed her eyes shut again and breathed through her nose. She would not throw up. Where was that ringing coming from? A vivid image of Desmond pinning her to the wall, right there and then, crushing his lips and body against hers and finishing what he’d started back in The Compass Man’s cave, was chased away only by a hand of ice grabbing her shoulder. She nearly screamed, yanked out of her fantasy, and the ice suddenly turned to a fire that roused the spell with a vengeance. The absolute all-consuming need to fulfill that imagery was so great she thought she’d die. You’d think she’d be used it by now, but this time it was different--much more frantic and desperate. She couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. Her already slipping mind couldn’t grasp normal thoughts and Satine started to wonder who she was. Why is it dark? What is dark? Cold--yes, I remember cold, but--Satine. Wait, what’s a Satine? A flicker of a touch and her vision stretched sideways then squeezed together, muted colors morphing before her eyes like a sideshow mirror. Desmond, the source of that aching need (that, she remembered), was leaning over her, mouth moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying because he was being drowned out by that shrill hectic ringing. She tried to ask him what was going on but her mouth wouldn’t work. He moved the lantern light out of her face and the ringing faded. “Can you stand?”

This time she could hear him. Even the sound of his voice was a drug she couldn’t get enough of, a cruel tease of everything connected to it. He was being careful not to touch her and after a minute, Satine nodded. “What happened?” she asked, not trusting herself to take the hand he offered to help her up. Instead, she crawled her way up the wall and to her feet, her entire body still on fire. She pressed her back against the wall and clasped her hands together to keep from reaching for him. “We’re here.” Ugh! Why did he have to keep talking in that voice of his! As if he had another voice he could talk in. Desmond shined the lantern on a wooden door a few meters away. Strange ancient looking runes shimmered a silvery blue in the light, and she wondered if each of the tunnels led to a similar door. Septimus sure was big on tunnels and weird doors leading to even more tunnels and weirder doors. She dreaded the moment they’d have to try and get past the last one. “There’s a wizard in there?” Satine whispered, trying to ignore the still present heaviness on her chest and the frantic need to touch him. He headed for the door, the light warping and bending around him as if the symbols on the door were feeding off its energy. “We’ll find out soon enough.” He hadn’t taken more than three steps before the light flickered out in a soft shhh and they were plunged back into darkness.

Chapter 89

Two seconds later and without any explanation, the flame returned, basking Desmond in a sweet glow that tossed a myriad of fantasies at her: Desmond in the hall, on the floor, up against the wall--Desmond’s eyes, lips, chest--Desmond replacing Micah in her supposed “dream” she’d had in the sub--Desmond spotting her watching him as he approached her parents’ house and climbed up the balcony to her room… The real Desmond let out a noise that sounded very much like a growl and pounded his fist on the wall, leaning forward and closing his eyes. She didn’t have to be linked to him supernaturally to know something was wrong. His entire body was so tense she felt the same way she did watching boiling water about to bubble over. The caged tiger was back. Did she chance it? The wards had nearly incapacitated her from this far off, what would it do if she got closer? Unable to stop herself, she took a tentative step forward and whispered, “Are you okay?” “Do I bloody look okay?” he shot back, glaring at her over his shoulder and surprising her with his sudden mood swing. His grip on the lantern tightened and he turned back to the wall, closing his eyes and taking in a slow breath. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no.” She took another step. Was he in pain? Was he sick? “Is there anything I can do to help?” He let out a harsh un-Desmond-like laugh, then swung to face her. “For your own good, I wouldn’t ask that.”

“Why not?” She was now standing close enough to see into his eyes, and for a split second after she spoke, there was no mistaking the intense desire that sparked across his gaze. It was gone as fast as it appeared, and he stood up straight, staring right at her. “Because you won’t like the answer.” The way he said it, a warning full of dark promises and a hunger that had nothing to do with food, sent a shiver all the way down her spine. “You’re right, this is a bad idea,” she said finally, taking a step back from him and wishing with all her heart that she could do the opposite instead. “We can’t be in that room together.” “And yet I can’t very well leave you standing alone outside either.” He seemed just as frustrated as she was, and for once they agreed on something. “Where’s Micah when we need him?” Satine muttered, and her mind immediately wandered to the room with the silk red sheets again. Oh to be able to escape to that place now. Even better, to be able to escape with Desmond. To feel his body against hers, his mouth over hers, over everywhere as the silky satin sheets swished underneath them. She imagined running her hands over the toned muscles of his chest, his back--of having all that concentrated power and incredible dangerous energy that was Desmond Décar directed only at her, and for once not in irritation. She would let him have free reign, cooperate fully, and finally pin him to the bed to have her go at running her mouth over every inch of that beautiful hard body. And, if her instincts were correct, he would be. Beautiful. And hard. Desmond swore, breaking her out of her daydream, and Satine jumped back to the present. “Would you mind keeping our fantasies to yourself please?” he hissed through gritted teeth and blood rushed to her cheeks in a fierce blush. “You mean…?” “Yes.” “How--?” “Does it really matter?” No, it didn’t. But she was mortified to find out that Desmond was somehow able to tap into her thoughts. Her very private, very uncontrollable and imaginative thoughts. Of him. Had he been able to do it this entire time they’d been cursed, or just now? Was it part of the magical security system set up to keep them out? Confuse them? Turn them against each other maybe? And how come she couldn’t read his mind? “So back in the submarine…” “Was one of the hardest moments of my life,” he interrupted, jaw set in a rigid line. She swallowed, trying not to think about his double entendre. Guess that answered one of her questions. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t because of the magic they were currently facing. “I’m so sorry,” she fumbled out, tripping over her tongue. “The curse--I can't control, didn’t know--” “Not your fault,” he answered brusquely, turning towards the door and bracing himself for another go at it. “A curse is a curse, and you don’t live among them. You couldn’t have known.” But you could have told me, she thought before she realized that he probably heard it whether she’d said it out loud or not. She would have to be very careful from now on what she thought. At least until the infuriating spell was finally broken. Keeping a mind that wasn’t entirely hers in line was not going to be easy.

Satine was about to ask Desmond why she couldn’t read his mind, when he suddenly stopped a foot away from the door and said, “Listen.” She did. “I don’t hea--” He held up and finger and she stopped. She listened some more. At first all she could hear was the faint scratching of what was probably a mouse scurrying across the floor. Finally though, another sound reached her ears. The sound of water dripping. And footsteps.

Chapter 90

Please be Solaris, please be Solaris It wasn’t Solaris. Only after a blur of yellow shot past, sending her spinning and careening into the wall, did she remember that Solaris’s footsteps wouldn’t have been heard anyway. Satine landed hard against the only other section of uneven floor they’d encountered so far, and their attacker pinned Desmond against the wall just as Satine had wanted to a few moments ago. Not fair! the spell shouted, to which she silently argued, Deal with it. Somehow Desmond managed to keep hold of the lantern, but the light was dangerously close to going out again. The flame jumped around haphazardly a moment before settling back down to cast its eerie glow over everything again--magic jail door included. “Well, look what we have here.” A woman dressed in a disturbingly bright yellow sundress stepped out of the shadows, her long nails painted emerald green. “If it isn’t Desmond Décar himself.” Satine looked from the woman to Desmond and back. They knew each other? The woman strode up to run a finger along his jaw, trailing one of those green nails down his neck. Desmond’s expression didn’t change, but there was a cold familiarity to his voice. Without taking his eyes off the woman whose hair matched her dress, he said, “Satine Tierney, meet Alana Firenze.” Alana turned and Satine made another mental note: the woman’s eyes matched her nails. If anything, Alana Firenze knew how to coordinate herself with her wardrobe. Perhaps a little too much. “So, this is the one, huh?” Why did everybody keep saying that? Was it really so hard to believe that she might be stronger than she looked? That she was somewhat important to…well, something anyway. “Septimus has gone all out this time hasn’t he?” Desmond asked, ignoring her question. “I’m curious, what did he offer you in exchange for us?” Alana’s head whipped around, glaring at him. “I don’t work for Septimus you ingrate. I merely saw an opportunity and decided to capitalize on it.” She shrugged and lifted her hand to study her nails. “Just like Rider?” Desmond asked. He was awarded another disgusted Alana look. “I have nothing to do with that man. For all I care you could finally kill him off this time, save the rest of us the trouble.” A nasty grin crossed her lips. “But we both know that’s not going to happen, so let’s just move on.”

“What do you want?” Satine asked, getting weary of asking that question to people who usually answered something along the lines of, “You.” The knife Quinn had given her earlier was suddenly a very real presence at her side. She gripped it tighter, wondering if it was worth chancing the disorienting vertigo again to try and reach the other women so close to the warded door. Would she be able to do it fast enough? Even if she could, Satine didn’t know if she’d really be able to use the knife. She’d never stabbed someone before, and quite frankly, the thought of having to do so made her a little sick. Still, she kept her grip tight and her eyes on Alana. “The same thing I always want,” Alana answered, and Desmond said, “And as usual, I cannot give it to you.” “Oh I know sweetie pie,” she said, grinning sweetly and leaning up against the wall next to him. She crossed her arms and ankles, just hanging out with an old friend, not a care in the world. Her attention swung to Satine. “But she could.” “What, is there some sort of mass e-mail that goes out to you guys?” Satine asked, becoming more and more frustrated with the number of people wanting to use and/or kill her. She wasn’t some prize to be won--or stolen for that matter. Alana laughed, the cheerful tinkling echoing down the tunnel like a morbidly amused ghost. “You’d be surprised how fast news travels around here,” she said, still smirking. “Fine,” Satine parleyed, dragging herself back to her feet and once again mourning the loss of her clothes. If she got out of here she was going to invest in a bullet proof vest and a downy everything. So what if she looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and couldn’t put her arms down, at least it wouldn’t be so bad slamming into everything every two seconds. She’d also need some good all terrain shoes. And possibly a helmet. She brought a hand up to her aching head. Yeah, a helmet would be nice. Maybe she could get that padded and bulletproof as well. “But you don’t know what I want yet,” Alana said, all sweetness and vile. “Let me guess,” Satine said, pulling out of her mental shopping spree. “Whatever it is, you need it in the next 2-3 hours or somebody somewhere who will no doubt betray me a few hours after that will die? Or we’ll all explode, or the world will end, blah, blah, blah.” She waved her non-knife hand halfheartedly, trying her best to appear nonchalant. In truth her heart was beating so fast she was sure everyone had to hear it, and she was still trying to calculate how hard it would be to take the woman by surprise. Then again, Desmond hadn’t made any move. Maybe this Alana person wasn’t such a threat after all. “I can see why he likes you,” Alana said. She didn’t bother asking who “he” was, because quite frankly, she didn’t care. If Septimus liked her, good for him. That didn’t mean she was going to head off into the sunset with him anytime this millennia. “We don’t have time for this,” Desmond said, and stepped around Alana, heading for the door again even though it must have been torture to do so. “He’s not there,” Alana said. The smirk was back. Desmond stopped. “You lie.” “I don’t.” “Then why bother with the wards?” he asked, walking back to face her. She seemed all too pleased to have drawn his attention back.

“Just in case you decided to come back,” she said reaching forward to hook a finger in his belt loop. She tried pulling him forward, but he knocked her hand away, irritated, and Alana frowned. “I mean, wouldn’t you?” she asked of placing the wards. “All they have to do is run out the clock. After that, well,” she shrugged. “If the wizard isn’t here,” Satine said, stepping closer to Desmond, still careful not to touch him. “Then why are you?” Alana smiled big this time, and suddenly it hit her. Alana was trying to stall just like everybody else. “Never mind,” Satine said quickly, all too aware of how much time had already been wasted. “Tell me what you want and then let us go. I want to see that empty room for myself.” “You’re going to have a hard time getting through those wards, but suit yourself.” Alana pushed off the wall, straightening to her full 5’2. For such a small girl she certainly packed a punch. “I want the location.” “That’s impossible,” Desmond said. “She’s never even been there.” “Are you sure about that?” Alana asked, not taking her gaze off Satine’s. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Satine answered, wondering, Location for what? “See, I think you do. Even if you may not know it yet. Tell me,” Alana said after a slight pause. “Do you dream a lot?” “Doesn’t everybody?” “Ever had a dream about a woman in a long flowing dress? Possibly in the woods, probably near water?” Satine just stared at her. How could she possible know about that? “For the sake of argument,” Alana continued, not waiting for an answer, “let’s say you had. Let’s say you could have that dream again. Think you could remember the place once you woke up?” “This is ridiculous,” Satine said, shaking her head in exasperation. “It was just a dream! What can it possibly--” Before she could finish, Desmond suddenly flung two of Kenji’s throwing stars at Alana, restraining her against the wall by the folds of her way too peppy dress. At first glance Satine wondered why Alana didn’t just rip the dress to get out, then noticed the thin silvery line between the stars. Alana was trapped and she wasn’t going anywhere. “Let’s go.” Desmond grabbed Satine’s arm then immediately let go. There was a reason they’d stopped in the first place. There was another one of those time-stopping, awkward eye locks, and just when she thought he was going to say something, Desmond turned his attention back to the door. He threw another star and Satine shook off the excitement. They just had to get through the door, and everything would be okay. Right. Good. Stay positive! The warded door now had a throwing star stuck in the center of one of the silvery runes, and Satine watched as light cracked and popped around it like a broken wire connection. Maybe this wasn’t going to be quite so hard after all. Desmond looked at her. “Ready?” “As I’ll ever be.” “I told you, he’s not in there!” Alana shouted after them, tugging at the stubborn rope that wouldn’t let her move.

“Thanks,” Desmond threw over his shoulder, “but I think we’d like to see that for ourselves.” Throwing two more stars for good measure, Desmond stepped forward and forced his way through the cracked but not broken wards.

Chapter 91

Getting to the door was bad enough, like getting tasered wading through lukewarm wax with bowling balls attached to every limb. Actually getting through the door was even worse. More than once both she and Desmond were flung back into the hall as the repelling charm on the door spit them out. Once, frustrated that even though getting the door open had been surprisingly easy relative to reaching it, Satine even tried running full speed directly at it. She was halfway down the hallway before she realized somewhere along the line she’d been spun back around. Alana had spent a good five minutes laughing at that one. “Give me your hand,” Desmond said, determined. Too tired to run through all the reasons she shouldn’t, Satine did as asked, and together with her knife and Desmond’s dagger, they slowly oozed there way forward, the air bending and warping around them until finally, finally, they were in. With a pop the invisible goo released them into the room. Alana’s surprised shouts now sounded like they were underwater. The door slammed just in time for Alana to pry one of the throwing stars loose and rush forward, only to find herself locked out. Satine smirked in satisfaction. It was the little things. The room they were now in was unremarkable in every way other than the fact that it looked straight out of a storybook drawing of an old servant’s kitchen, right down to the thick wooden counters and cast iron pot hanging in an abandoned fireplace. Wondering why anyone would go to so much trouble to lock up such a place, Satine decided they’d better have a closer look. She took one step and-“Don’t. Move.” She stopped, suddenly on alert. “What?” Desmond slowly held up his hand and begin backing up. “A Fierce Snake,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “The most venomous snake in the world. One bite could kill a hundred men.” With a sudden and urgent need to run away and fast, Satine forced herself to back up with Desmond. Slowly. One careful step at a time. She still didn’t see the snake. “Where?” she whispered, and he pointed at an old mop that had fallen to the floor. She squinted harder but still couldn’t see anything but an abandoned cleaning utensil. And as far as she could tell, it didn’t have fangs. “They’re not known to be aggressive, so as long as we stay out of its way…” He came to a stop at her side, eyes still glued to the mop. “Desmond,” she whispered, “All I see is a mop.” “A what?”

“A mop, like a--Spider!“ Grabbing his arm, Satine barely avoided be run over by the biggest scariest looking spider she’d ever seen in her life. The thing was huge! As she stayed frozen to the spot, too scared to move, she remembered a day when she was six years old and the man on TV had been talking about a Banana Spider--otherwise known as Brazilian Wandering Spider. It had been found in a shipment of bananas at a store in Oklahoma. Thankfully the spider had been dead, but that didn’t stop Satine from having nightmares for weeks after her brother had hidden a giant rubber spider in their bananas at home. Her mother had been furious, Max had laughed, and Satine hadn’t eaten bananas for two months. Seeing the spider currently scurrying across the dirt floor to climb up the wooden island in the center of the room, Satine was thrown back into that childhood fear, and couldn’t take her eyes off it. This whole time she’d been thinking the ward was there to keep them from getting in. It never occurred to her that maybe it was there to keep something else from getting out. “Effective guard,” Desmond said, nodding slightly towards a stack of old wooden bowls on the counter. “But they’re empty,” Satine said, still on spider alert. “Why would they want to guard old dirty dishes?” The astheneías agápia kept tugging on her sleeve, urging her to forget about the bug and focus on the man at her side. She almost did too, until the spider moved again. She jumped involuntarily and gripped Desmond’s arm tighter. “I really really hate spiders,” she hissed, almost wishing she could see Desmond’s snake instead. “I’ll trade you,” he answered. “I hate snakes.” “Why can’t I see your snake?” Oh no Mr. Spider, you just stay right where you are. “What exactly do you see?” he asked, tensing suddenly as if preparing to move them out of the way if needed. “I think it’s a Brazilian Wandering Spider. You know, the kind that likes to hitchhike with bananas?” “Is that it?” “What do you mean?” “What about the mop? The dirty dishes?” They were both slowly easing away from the deadly animals the other person couldn’t see and closer to the fireplace. “They’re both right there, the mop on the floor, the bowls on the counter.” She took a split second to look at his face before zeroing in on the spider again, and asked, “Why, what do you see?” “I see an empty room with what looks like a epithymoún bol hovering in the center.” Her Greek was a little rusty and he translated, “Basically a wishing bowl. Think of a big silvery wok.” “Is it another spell?” she asked, breath hitching when the spider, who had gotten bored with the empty part of the counter, headed for the bowls. As long as it stayed over there… “Maybe, uh--” Man, that thing was huge! And those legs! She shuddered and heard herself mutter, “Maybe something to keep us from seeing what’s really in here?” The thought that the spider may not be real, that it was all in her head, was a little comforting. But she was still staying as far away from it as possible. “I think it’s just another way to stall,” Desmond said, and out of the corner of her eye she was sure she just saw the pot in the fireplace disappear a moment before flickering back into existence.

“Well it’s working.” What were they going to do? They couldn’t just stand there all day. They had, what, one, two hours left? “Do you trust me?” “Yes.” “Then close your eyes.” The thought of leaving the spider unattended even for a second made her shudder. “It won’t be for long.” “You won’t complain when I climb on top of your back if I open my eyes and that spider’s moved over here?” She wasn't kidding. “If that spider is still there when you open your eyes, we’ll have more important things to worry about.” She closed her eyes. Desmond began to step very slowly behind her, and, regrettably, she let go of his arm. He didn’t touch her as he moved, but she could still feel him, his heat, his strength, the pull of the astheneías agápia… He settled his hands just above her shoulders and a strange, almost ticklish, sensation danced across her back. For a second she thought her back had fallen asleep, that maybe her whole body had, until Desmond quietly said, “Open your eyes.” The rustic old kitchen was gone. In its place was now a round black marble room with a single opalescent bowl hovering in a soft glow of white-blue light. Desmond was right. It did look like a wok. But there was no food in this one, and certainly no means of cooking any underneath. If anything, the room was cold. “What is it?” Satine asked, unconsciously choosing to whisper as she leaned in for a closer look at the bowl’s contents. It looked like water, but she knew better than to try and take a drink. There was something oddly reverent about this room. She wanted to get a closer look but that same something told her she’d be better off not satisfying her curiosity just yet. “You can see it?” Desmond asked softly, and she took her eyes off the mysterious bowl to look at him. “Yes.” “What about the snake?” She glanced back and this time she saw it. Curled up just under the bowl, shadowed so she’d missed it the first time, was a Fierce Snake. It’s head was black, blending to a lighter grey and golden brown through the rest of its sleek curled up body. Satine held her breath, suddenly wondering if the spider had been so bad after all. For the longest time the snake didn’t move. Every now and then it would lift its head slowly, stare at her with a vaguely bored look, then settle back down again. Waiting. That’s what it was doing. She could practically hear it mirroring her own thoughts, As long as you stay over there… Taking in a quick sweep of the room before focusing back on the snake, Satine whispered, “No wizard. Now what?” “Now,” a voice from behind said, “We wait.” Taken off guard, Satine spun around to face the man she hadn’t heard enter. Desmond caught her quickly, hissing, “Snake,” before she could get them both killed. She froze, sneaking a sideways glance at the snake. It had lifted its head again, alert, but thankfully hadn’t moved. She shifted her attention back to the man. Right now she was more concerned about him than the snake.

Seeing Septimus standing there, flesh and blood, not five feet away shot a spike of fear through her so cold she might as well have been turned into an ice sculpture. She hadn’t heard him enter, hadn’t felt him approach, hadn’t even noticed when Alana came in after him. Talk about one unhappy camper. The look on Alana’s face said she’d come to avenge more than just her torn yellow dress. Her constant companion, the curse, gave her a sudden stroke of bravery and, skipping the introductions and niceties, Satine got right to the point. “What’s with the birdbath?” she asked, nodding towards the bowl and doing her best to keep her voice from shaking. If she could just keep them talking, keep them occupied until…until what? Until time was up and the Love Sickness won? Until Solaris found them? Who’s to say the vampire would or even could help if he did? “I’m sure you have many questions,” Septimus said calmly, taking a step forward. “And they will all be answered in time, but for now…” He took another step. “Let us focus on what is important here.” He ran his gaze down her and back up. “Nice jacket. How on earth did you manage to get Solaris out of that fortress of his?” Although there was no blast of furious burning in his presence, unsettling in and of itself, she could still sense him. Something was very wrong here. Septimus was too calm, too sure of himself. Satine took a step back and was suddenly glad Desmond hadn’t let go of her shoulders. Maybe her shaking wouldn’t be quite so noticeable as long as he held her firmly on her feet. “How long has this been going on?” Desmond asked, ignoring Septimus’s question about Solaris. His face was hard as stone, voice carefully neutral. “Long enough.” Septimus cast a lazy glance at the bowl before taking another step. Those cold eyes slid to meet hers and Satine would have backed right through Desmond if he hadn’t been holding her in place. They both knew getting any closer would be a bad idea. With less than a foot between them, their connection was having a heyday already, no need to goad it on. The grip on her arms tightened. “How many have you killed, Septimus?” A smile as sinuous as the snake curled up under the floating bowl slid across Septimus’s lips, and the room grew ice cold. “They’re not all dead…But they will be.” He was now close enough to touch, and when his hand reached out for Satine, the astheneías agápia protested. Desmond moved so fast she was staring at his back with no memory of either of them moving. “Why Desmond, I do believe you’ve grown quite protective of this young lady,” Septimus said, amused. He considered them both. “Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.” “Where’s the wizard?” Desmond demanded. Satine shifted to see over his shoulder and automatically ducked back out of Septimus’s view. The man radiated evil and greed. “I’m sad to say,” he said, “that poor Mr. Wizard is no longer with us.” “You killed him?” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Which means,” Alana spoke up for the first time since entering the room, “that there’s only one way to break the spell now.” Septimus shot her a displeased look and she only shrugged. “Okay two, but--” “Thanks to our dearly departed Mr. Wizard,” he interrupted, “we’ve figured a way to ensure neither of you are forever bound slave to the other.” Well this was new. And probably bad, very very bad. What time was it anyway? The spell wasn’t going to wait around forever. Even now, with Desmond so close and the seconds ticking

away, it was a constant thorn in her side, forever poking and demanding she do something about it. It was difficult to distract the bad guy when all she really wanted to do was entice the good one to turn around and-“Alana,” Septimus said, “would you be so kind as to escort Miss Tierney away from this one.” He said the last as if it carried a bad taste in his mouth. “With pleasure.” Alana stepped around Desmond and grabbed Satine’s wrist. That explained why she was allowed to join the party. Apparently the astheneías agápia spell only worked on men because it didn’t seem bothered by Alana’s presence one way or another. “Come on.” Alana dug her nails into Satine’s arm and dragged her towards the bowl. She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny woman. Desmond started forward, but Septimus stopped him with a gun drawn quick as lightning. “Given up on the blade altogether now have we?” Desmond asked, sparing the weapon only a quick glance before meeting Satine’s gaze. Whatever you do, don’t touch the water. Talk about being blindsided! Hearing Desmond’s voice in her head was almost enough to knock her completely off her feet. “Quit trying to stall,” Alana ordered when she faltered, poking her in the back with another nail. “Move.” Recovering from her shock, Satine kept walking. The snake watched them the entire slow time. Her feet were freezing on the cold marble and she wondered if the snake was cold too. Strange how the human mind can bounce to the most mundane of thoughts even in the most desperate of situations. “My men tell me you have an uncanny knack for recovering a little too quickly from certain types of wounds,” Septimus answered, using the gun to move Desmond towards the other side of the room. Dressed all in black, his face and hands seemed to float about the room, the rest of him blending in with the black marble. He may have preferred a sword but he sure didn’t have any problem using a gun when the situation called for it. Alana came to a stop about six feet from the bowl, Satine next to her. They were now facing the only door in the room, making it that much more obvious how trapped they were. Alana finally let go of Satine’s arm, but warned, “Try anything, and he’s dead.” “Why are you working with him?” Satine asked, keeping her voice low. Dare she hope for a little divide and conquer action? Where was Solaris? Had Quinn and Benny help? Her heart grew heavy thinking that very soon none of it would matter anyway. “Just remember,” Alana muttered, leaning in so only Satine could hear, “all I want is the location. After that, I don’t care what happens.” Satine was about to tell the other woman that she still had no idea what location she was talking about when Septimus tapped on a slab of marble on the wall and a tall black column ascended from the floor. As wide as a single man, it reached all the way to the ceiling. The soft light still hovering over the mysterious bowl reflected off its black surface, highlighting Desmond’s face as Septimus told Alana to back him up to the column, hands behind his back. He pointed the gun at Satine while Alana carried out her orders. Alana stepped back, and with the sound of snapping leather, Desmond was suddenly bound to the column by his wrists and ankles. Satine swallowed hard. Of all the things he’d been chained or tied up to lately, she had a feeling this one would be the hardest to break out of. Just keep stalling, Desmond’s voice inside her head said. They won’t do anything until the time is up.

She was pretty sure they wouldn’t hurt her until then, but what about him? What about everyone else? Plus there was Alana. What was she up to? Even if Satine could find the location to whatever it was she wanted, she’d never get it to her in time. They’d be lucky if she ever found it, let alone within an hour while being trapped in this room by a psycho Septimus and his pet snake. Whatever happened to that spider? Satine searched the room. Alana confiscated both their knives and Satine wondered if Desmond had any more weapons hidden on him. She hadn’t known he carried the throwing stars. If he was hiding anything though, it would be hard to reach bound up like that. Taking Desmond’s dagger in his hand, Septimus studied it. He turned it back and forth against the light, frowning slightly at his thoughts. Satine held her breath. Was he going to try and go for Desmond’s blood too? How much could one man lose in a day and still live? Satine glanced at Desmond. Apparently a lot more than she’d thought. Septimus finally turned to Satine. “You’re hand, please,” he said, holding out his own. If he really thought she was just going to stroll on over and let him slice open her arm, he could think again. “It won’t hurt,” he insisted and she didn’t believe him for a second. Stall, stall, come on, think! Nothing was coming and when Alana moved to push her forward, Desmond spoke up. “What’s the rush?” he asked, sounding as bored as Septimus looked. “You have us both here now. There’s no wizard, which means you’ve figured out some way to ensure the outcome without him. Why not rest a while, let us simmer in the reality of our ultimate doom?” Septimus frowned at Desmond, but held up a hand and Alana stopped shoving Satine forward. Seems the man had time to gloat after all. Never underestimate a bad guy’s ego. “Quite talkative tonight, aren’t we Desmond?” Septimus asked, walking lazily around the bowl. He studied the dagger as the snake studied him. “You are right, there is no rush. Thanks to Mr. Wizard--” he smirked at his name for the man, “--this time there will be no mishaps.” He stopped in front of Satine. “Come the right time, you will be mine. Who knows, perhaps I’ll even let you kill this one.” Septimus smirked at Desmond and Satine’s heart pounded. Whatever the wizard had done, she no longer had an internal alarm warning her that Septimus was near. Not that she was complaining to be rid of the whole burning-and-passing-out thing, but she could still feel him when he got close enough. Like the snake at their feet, the astheneías agápia raised its head to glare at him: Hands off the exhibit, mister. “If the spell’s been broken,” she asked, deciding she might as well try for some answers now that Septimus was in a talkative mood, “then why can I still feel it?” “It’s still there,” Septimus said, eyes raking her body and making her want to shudder. “I’m just…muted, for lack of a better word. Cloaked until the time is right.” “Right for what?” She tried to judge the distance between herself and the dagger. Could she surprise him? Get it out of his hand before he-Too late. Without warning, Septimus grabbed her arm and slit her palm just over the bowl of water. Gasping at the sharp sting of blade cutting flesh, Satine bit her lip, forcing herself to remain still as one eye remained on the snake at her feet, the other on the blood that dripped from her hand into the bowl. The second her blood touched the surface of the water, she felt like the floor had just opened up and she was falling through the center of the earth. Heat, ice, and everything in between

bombarded her from all sides. Light exploded behind her eyes in a shattered rainbow before imploding into total darkness. There was suddenly nothing. No sight, no sound, no feeling, nothing. And then she opened her eyes and she was in a field. The field from her dream. A warm breeze brushed against her cheek and a bright red butterfly fluttered past before, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone and she was zooming back into the marble room, fighting back a terrible headache and gripping the edge of the floating bowl. Her fingers brushed the water and she quickly pulled them back. Septimus was standing behind her, an awed look on his face. “What did you see?” “Nothing,” she snapped. “I blacked out. What--” “Liar,” Alana interrupted. “You saw it.” “Saw what? I have no idea what you’re talking about--and thanks for the warning by the way.” She wrapped her other hand around the bleeding. Ouch. Desmond was staring at her back but she didn’t look at him. I’m okay. What did you see? A field, she thought back, A butterfly. Just a memory of a dream. He didn’t say anything more, silently or aloud, and she told Septimus, “Maybe if you would tell me what it is you’re both so eager to have I could convince you once and for all that I don’t have it!” Alana started forward in an angry reply, but Septimus shook his head. It could wait. “Perhaps this could persuade you.” He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled something small into his palm. She couldn’t see what it was at first, but when he slid the ring onto his finger, the astheneías agápia suddenly burst out of its impatient slumber, assaulting her senses on a level that put the previous to shame. Behind her, even Desmond stifled a gasp, and Satine had to grip the edge of the bowl again to keep her knees from buckling. “I wasn’t the only thing muted,” Septimus said, his voice slithering around her in satisfied amusement. She had to get away from him. Even if it was just a few feet. Backing up, Satine forced her eyes to stay focused. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out--oh no. Taking a step back put her closer to Desmond. A sensuous wall of passion pressed up against her back, curling around her whole body and it took everything she had not to turn around and give in. “Still think you didn’t see anything?” Septimus asked, cocking his head slightly to the side and watching her stumble back. “I told you, I blacked out, I didn’t--ah!” She clamped her mouth down, gritting her teeth when another wave of desire pounded against her. She dug her fingernails into her hand and squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying not to move or think. It wasn’t just her own reckless need that was getting to her either. Somewhere behind her she could feel Desmond fighting the astheneías agápia, feel him stubbornly trying not to think anything remotely her way. It was probably a good thing he was tied up. Even better that she wasn’t facing him. “Didn’t what?” Septimus prompted, taking a step towards her. Satine searched for anything she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. Aside from the bowl and the snake the room was empty. “Didn’t see anything,” Satine forced through gritted teeth. If he wanted to play it this way fine. But she wasn’t going to crumble that easily. Sure she’d probably lose in the end, but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight!

Septimus took another step and she was forced to back up again. He continued moving towards her, backing her up, and suddenly she heard Desmond think, Stop. She froze. What? But she knew the answer the second she realized where Septimus had backed her up to. A slow smile spread across the man’s face and he lifted an eyebrow. “Care to kiss our hero goodbye?” He made a go at her with the dagger, and Satine automatically jumped back. Right into Desmond. Fed up with waiting, the spell let go in all its lust-driven glory. Like a woman possessed, Satine spun around with only one thought in mind: Desmond! She didn’t hear the soft spoken, “Septimus,” because she was too busy throwing herself at the man the spell wanted more than life itself.

Chapter 92

Heat. Fire. Passion. Need. With no control over her actions, Satine was on Desmond like a magnet, running her hands over every inch of exposed skin and kissing whatever she could reach. Chest, shoulder, neck, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t find his lips, but for the moment she didn’t care. He was here--right here, right now, in her arms, and there was nothing in the world that was going to stop her from finally ending their suffering, finally giving them what they both so desperately needed. Something was going on behind her, something loud, but her ears were a whir of heartbeats and harsh breathing. Plus there was so much exposed skin that needed tending to, and other parts needing exposing. “Satine--” Desmond tried, turning his face away as she once again sought to reach his mouth. She met his throat instead and settled on lapping against the hollow there before moving to nibble the sensitive spot beneath his ear. He tasted so very good! Standing on her tiptoes, she slid her tongue to the shell of his ear and was awarded a gruff groan as her hands roaming his body moved aside to allow her to press tightly against his. Oh my… “Desmond,” she heard herself say in a voice that was way too seductive to possibly be her own, “I need you. Now.” “No,” he answered, refusing to look at her, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You don’t.” “Yes--” she kissed his jaw “--I do.” “Satine--” “Des--” “You don’t--” “Please--” “--know what--” “Stop me.” He finally looked at her, eyes sharp, like he didn’t believe this wasn’t a trap.

“Please,” she whispered, clinging to the last shred of sanity. This isn’t me, I can't control it, I don’t want to hurt you! His body was hot against hers through the thin paper fabric of her institutional pajamas. Eyes locked. Hearts pounded. She couldn’t breathe. With a mind of their own, her hands moved down his bare chest, his abdomen, seeking so many scars that weren’t there. His skin was flawless where it should have been totally torn up, bruised, broken. Even through the curse induced haze, she knew that couldn’t be right. Before she could think about it though, her fingers stopped at his waistband and she swallowed hard against her suddenly very dry mouth. He hadn’t blinked, was still looking at her. The longer they stared at each other the harder it was for her to talk herself down, and her voice was barely a whisper when she breathed a terrified, “Des?” He didn’t answer. Was he going to kiss her? Would he mind if she just leaned forward and-“Forget this!” Alana was suddenly there, grabbing Satine by Solaris’s jacket and yanking her away from Desmond. “No!” Suddenly the noise blew up around them like surround sound from a playing band who’d forgotten the amp was already plugged in. Satine had been so focused on Desmond she’d completely forgot the fact that there was some sort of battle going on behind her. “You people are all crazy!” Alana shouted, dragging Satine towards the door. “Alana.” Desmond’s voice somehow cut through the racket and both women stopped. Alana more out of surprise than anything. Satine tried to shake her off, but she held on as Desmond finished, “You take her now, and you’ll never find it.” The woman glared at him. “You think I’m gonna stay around and wait for them to kill me?” She jerked her head towards a whir of movement by the door. “I think I’ll take my chances with the girl.” Girl? Alana couldn’t be much older than Satine, if that. With the strength of the spell, Satine shoved her off, shouting, “I can’t give you what you want, because I don’t know what it is!” She, on the other hand, knew exactly what she wanted and he was standing right there in front of her. Now, to get back to the matter at hand before they were so rudely interrupted. “The water!” Septimus’s voice suddenly boomed around them, and both women spun around to see him thrown across the room. Solaris was standing next to the bowl looking like he’d just arrived from a pleasant stroll in the park. He nodded in Satine’s direction and bent to stroke the top of the snake’s head. It sat up, flicked its tongue through the air, and leaned into his touch like a dog being scratched behind his ear. The sight distracted her a second from the astheneías agápia and Satine could only stare dumbfounded. Well, one thing could definitely be said about him. Solaris was anything but boring. Septimus was on his feet again, barreling towards Solaris, who caught him by the throat and pinned him to the wall, knocking Satine’s knife out of the other man’s hand. A shot rang out. Septimus still had his gun. Solaris sighed. “Bullets? Will you never learn?”

“Might not kill you,” Septimus growled. “But you can't tell me it doesn't hurt, and it’s way too much fun to pass up!” He quickly fired off two more rounds. Solaris frowned down at his ruined shirt as the bullets hit him square in the chest, and Satine muttered, “Does he have a death wish?” to no one in particular. “Only for the last hundred years or so,” Desmond answered, and she did a double-take when she realized he was standing right next to her. “How did--?” “You owe me,” Alana said, shooting them both a ‘and-you-better-remember-it’ look. “Come on.” Desmond took her arm at the same time Septimus managed to weasel out from Solaris’s grip, and with a twist of Septimus’s ring, Satine fell to the floor. “Time’s up sweetie pie,” he shouted with a bark of laughter. His eyes flared with wild satisfaction. “Doesn’t matter what they do now, in less than two minutes it’ll all be over!” What? How was that possible? There was no way a half an hour had just gone by in that short amount of time. And yet, every cell in her body was alive, jumping and humming, waiting for something big to happen. “Not even ol’ hero boy Desmond can help you now!” Darkness seeped into her vision and she began floating towards Septimus, eyelids growing so heavy she could barely keep them open. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would just be better to give up, maybe go to sleep. It would all be better when she woke up… Both Desmond and Solaris leapt to action. The vampire pinned Septimus to the ground, clearly fed up with his boasting. With the crack of breaking bones, the gun and ring went flying in the other direction. Septimus screamed out in pain and began cursing Solaris in a language Satine didn’t understand, but sure got the gist of. “Desmond,” Solaris said, his accent thicker than normal as he bent over the screaming flailing man. “I cannot hold him forever.” Desmond kneeled next to Satine and scooped her up, ignoring the insane mess of supernatural fireworks that sparked between them. “Is there another way out?” he asked Alana who shook her head, eyes wide. Clearly her night was not going as planned. “Just the one door. And you can bet there’s an entire army out there waiting on the other side.” Her gaze shifted nervously to Septimus and back. “Don’t even think about it” Desmond warned, and her attention jumped back to him then back to Septimus as he let out a strangled, “Alana!”, reaching out for her help. Solaris tightened his hold on the Septimus’s neck and he choked back the rest of his words, looking like there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to kill that vampire. The light in the room was growing brighter and brighter, but her vision was doing the opposite and Satine knew she was dying. Any second now her heart would burst and that would be it. No more Satine Tierney. She would have cried for her parents and brother had she the strength to remember their names. Tired…she was so tired… Don’t you dare, a voice boomed and she weakly waved it away. It had been so long since she’d just been able to sleep, to find some peace and quiet. It’d be nice to rest... “Satine!” Shaken awake, Satine blinked at him wearily. “Sorry I put you to so much trouble,” she slurred, reaching a hand out to clumsily pat his shoulder. “Tell Quinn and the guys I said…I sa…”

With another shake, her eyes were forced open again and she frowned at him. What did he want now? “Look at me,” Desmond ordered and she did, but only because he had such pretty eyes. “Do not,” he ordered, “Fall asleep.” “Okay, okay, but…” she was already drifting back off. She heard him mutter something and bend down, and when a sharp sting tugged at the connection between them, she opened her eyes. Desmond was pulling the snake away from the bite in his hand. Apparently forgoing the search for an easier way, he’d gone with the fastest, using the snake to allow his blood to run freely. “Des!” Suddenly wide awake, Satine shot up, nearly hitting her head on the bowl above her. She reached for his hand as he let the snake go and he pulled away. Was he insane! She watched the snake slither off into the corner, annoyed now that his resting place had been disturbed and he’d been rudely enticed, and couldn’t believe her eyes. “What the--” Ignoring her, he pulled her to her feet, grabbed the hand that Septimus had cut and thrust both their palms into the bowl.

Chapter 93

If the sight of Desmond being bitten by the deadliest snake in the world wasn’t enough to wake her up, the shock of cold and the blast through time and space certainly was. By the time they were back in the serene field it was night and Satine was gulping in desperate mouthfuls of fresh air to keep from throwing up all over the perfectly manicured lawn. Was she wrong about their location? Had they landed on a golf course? Eyes focusing, she followed the line of green grass to the hem of a dress and scrambled back on her hands and knees. She looked up. It was her, the woman from her dream. And she was even more beautiful and terrifying than the last time she’d seen her. “Who are you?” she gasped, but the woman wasn’t looking at her, she was studying Desmond. Beaten and battered, even bitten by the snake and half naked, Desmond looked good, downright heroic--even if he was on one knee, refusing to look the woman in the eye. For the first time since she’d known him, he was being entirely submissive, not a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he acknowledged the woman with a reverent bow. “Desmond.” She returned the favor with a regal nod and a smile. “My Lady.” He still wouldn’t look at her. Well smack me upside the head and call me Toodles, Satine thought, flabbergasted. They knew each other. The make-believe woman from her dream knew Desmond and she was now turning to offer Satine a hand up. Satine felt Desmond tense next to her, but the woman said, “Have no fear, no harm will come to you.”

With no other choice, Satine took her offered hand and stood up. The woman’s skin was smooth and cool to the touch, and for the first time in a week Satine realized she couldn’t feel the curse at all. The astheneías agápia, Love Sickness, wherever it was, was being completely muted, far better than whatever Septimus had managed to get out of his wizard. It was the best feeling in the world and Satine had the sudden urge to grab the woman into a big hug and thank her. She managed to restrain herself from doing so, but just barely. “Satine Tierney,” the woman said, her head tilting slightly as she studied Satine’s face. “You are a mystery.” “I could say the same about you,” Satine answered, then thought, whoops. She was not really sure what she was supposed to do here. Should she bow? Was it like meeting the Queen? Maybe she should kiss her hand or something. “Forgive me, My Lady,” Desmond said quietly, still bowed down on one knee. “I have failed you.” The woman smiled at Satine, patted her hand, then turned to Desmond. “My dear Desmond.” She moved like the rippling waves of a pond, silent and graceful. Her alabaster skin glowed in the moonlight and it was like watching a china doll come to life. The folds of her dress and even her hair seemed in constant movement, as if dancing to some unheard music. “You have not failed me, my knight,” she said, kneeling to his level. Desmond ducked lower, respectfully keeping his eyes on the ground, and with another smile, the woman lifted a hand to his chin, gently tilting his face up. He closed his eyes. “Do not fear me,” she said softly. “I do not forbid the eyes of such a brave man.” Desmond opened his eyes but Satine could tell it wasn’t easy for him. She couldn’t believe how different he was around this woman. He respected her, but was he afraid of her too? Up until now she was positive Desmond Décar wasn’t afraid of anything. “How is this possible?” he asked, starlight reflecting off his eyes, and the women answered, “I do not know,” surprising them both. “But you are here, and time is short.” She stood up and Desmond followed. He glanced at Satine and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “You are right,” the woman said, noticing. “It is too late to break the curse, but all is not lost.” Satine joined Desmond, trying not to squint in the brilliance of the lady’s beauty. There was something oddly familiar about her. “You can help?” The serene smile was back. “I can try.” She turned and began walking, her voluminous skirts flowing behind her, and Satine looked at Desmond. So many questions, but for now she settled on thinking, What now? He didn’t answer. They followed. Although it was the middle of the night, the full moon shone enough light for an easy look around. Miles of rolling hills stretched out to the left as far as the eye could see, meeting up with a stretch of trees in the distance that boarded along the right of their path. The bubbling brook sound was back, but Satine had yet to see any water. A few crickets chirped a steady song close by, and the entire place had an air of extreme calmness and comfort. Satine wouldn’t mind curling up under one of those trees, or even on top of one of the hills and settling down for a nice long-Don’t fall asleep. Desmond’s warning interrupted her thoughts and she frowned at him. I won’t.

She wasn’t as tired as before, but the pull was still there. Shaking her head to help wake her up, she hurried to keep pace with Desmond and the woman. “I cannot prevent the inevitable,” the woman said softly, reaching out to run her hands through the leaves of a weeping willow that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Satine could have sworn there was the tinkling sound of bells somewhere on the wind. “But I can give you a choice.” “A choice?” Satine asked, but Desmond was already saying, “I’ll do it.” The lady in blue paused then turned to face him. This time Desmond held her gaze. A kind of sadness passed through those ancient eyes and the woman softly asked, “Are you certain?” “Yes.” “Wait,” Satine interrupted. “What kind of choice?” “You realize what this will mean,” the lady told Desmond, ignoring Satine’s question. She was studying him very closely, but he didn’t squirm. The wind brushed her cheek causing her hair to flow around her like soft swirling waves, always moving, yet somehow still. That nagging familiarity was back. What was it? Desmond nodded once. Whatever it was, he’d made up his mind and wasn’t going to change it. The woman didn’t say anything for a long moment, then finally nodded back. Her radiance dimmed ever so slightly. She didn’t seem to want to do whatever it was Desmond had agreed to. “Very well.” “Wait,” Satine tried again. “Don’t I get a say in this? Desmond, what--” The woman stretched out both her hands and touched them each on the forehead and suddenly with a horrible sense of despair, Satine fell back into Septimus’s room, gasping and struggling to breathe. Her hand slid out of the water and she slumped to the floor, feeling like death. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, was drowning in an ocean of sorrow and ice. A soft beep sounded, a digital clock ticking off the time somewhere, and with a gust of heat, Satine was thrown across the floor. She landed next to Solaris and Septimus, who was now screaming like a madman that he had to get up, that it had to be now! Solaris shouted at Desmond, and suddenly he was there, picking her up off the floor and-“Desmond, no!” It came out a pathetic whimper, and the, Don’t do this, please don’t do this, we’ve come so far! never even made it past her vocal chords. It was too late. She caught a split second look at his eyes, at a tormented vulnerability no one should know, and then Desmond was kissing her. “NO!” Septimus’s roar ricocheted off the walls, amplified tenfold by the echoing surface, but even that faded into the background as the hum of the astheneías agápia swallowed them up. Every pain she’d ever felt, every tease, every wish, hope, and dream, came crashing down in a shower of sparks and relief as the curse finally, finally got what it needed. Her life ended then began again with renewed vitality, blasting away her previous lethargy and replacing it with such incredible energy she thought she’d take off and fly around the room. Instead she pushed off the floor, giving in to the desire that had been plaguing her for a full week. Her hand slid into his hair, her lips met his, and for once he didn’t fight her. His arms closed around her waist beneath Solaris’s jacket, and Desmond lifted her to her feet. She moved with him, deepening the kiss and pulling him even closer. Your soulmate, the astheneías agápia seemed to whisper. Take him as you wish.

His lips were softer than she imaged, and he tasted sweet, salty, and intoxicating. She needed more. Desmond must have read her mind, because his tongue swept past hers and a thrill shot down her body as he backed her into the column, lifting her against him. The kiss began just like she imaged--rough, fast, and passionate. It took a sudden turn however, and he took his time exploring her mouth, slow and sensuous. It was the complete opposite to what she was expecting from the rough and tough no-nonsense Desmond Décar. Surprising her with the tenderness of his touch, he made her forget where they were, and she melted against him. His hand slid to cup the back of her neck, his other splaying across the small of her back, and in that moment there was no one else in the world. Her hands roamed over his skin, which now seemed to glow with hers, skimming the toned muscles of his chest and back. She was no longer alarmed by his lack of scars because all she could think was that one single man should not be allowed to look and feel that good. He was the first to break away and did so suddenly and with eyes closed. She missed him immediately but when she moved to capture his mouth again, he quickly jerked away, still holding her. She could feel him as easily as she could her own body. His heart pounded as wildly as hers, and his every muscle was suddenly so tense she now knew what it was like to hold onto a bomb about ready to go off. Desmond? She gently touched his cheek. His jaw twitched but he still didn’t open his eyes. “How could you!” Septimus was shouting. “I worked too hard for this, too long for some sad little pathetic--” Bam! “Forgive me,” Solaris said, standing up. He’d knocked the man out cold with one swift flick of the butt of Septimus’s gun. “But I’ve had just about enough of his incessant whining.” Satine wasn’t paying attention. Desmond still hadn’t moved. Something was wrong. Look at me. He opened his eyes, and with a blaze of sudden and unexpected raw desire, he was kissing her again. Lips met in a crush of desperate need, and there was no slow sweetness this time. Tongues fought for equal space, and an amazing sense of power--the same she’d seen mirrored in his eyes, felt in his body--filled her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. It was the most fantastic thing she’d ever felt in her life! Invigorated and emboldened, her hand found him through the fabric of the only clothes he’d managed to keep hold of, and a fierce growl vibrated through the back of Desmond’s throat. He couldn’t keep his hips from pressing into her touch. Excitement flooded her whole body as she realized he wanted this just as desperately as she did. Or at least his body did. Feeling his reaction to her was an even greater power trip, and squeezing him gently, Satine deepened the kiss. More power, more desire. It was addicting, startling, and perfect. His hands slid down her arms to catch her wrists as she made quick work of the button on his pants. Still kissing her, Desmond slid his fingers over hers and as she found out he was a boxer-briefs kind of guy, he suddenly, without warning, pressed her palm hard against him.

Satine gasped, her knees giving out in a rush of pure desire, and Desmond took the opportunity to pull away, breaking the kiss and trapping her arms at her sides. She blinked, confused and still reeling from the unexpected tease. What was going on? Didn’t he want this? He opened his eyes and there was no doubt in her mind that yes, he did want this. Suddenly a fierce look burned away any hint of desire, and he gruffly mumbled, “It’s for your own good.” The leather straps suddenly closed around her wrists and ankles, holding her in place, and with great effort, Desmond stepped back. The loss of his touch was enough to make her want to cry. The sense of betrayal was enough to break her heart. Had it all been an act? Had he only been playing along, protecting her this entire time just to gain access to something they all wanted? Something only she had that was tied to 1:07 AM and the world’s best kiss? Rider had been willing to kill for it, Septimus had killed a wizard for it. Back to her, Desmond took two steps, ran a rough hand through his hair, and staggered to catch the edge of the bowl. How could she be so stupid? Have been played by so many sides? Kat, Rider, and now Desmond? Had everything from the beginning been a lie? She thought about her parents, Max. None of them had told her what had been laying dormant in her blood all these years. Had this entire nightmare been a setup from the beginning? No, she had to be wrong. Her parents loved her, knew nothing about what might happen because of Alastair's intervention all those years ago. Micah and Kenji had only been brought in to help. Quinn had fought to save her, and Desmond had just been doing his job. He didn’t owe her anything, and now that the curse was broken, he was free to leave. Even if it meant tying her up and leaving her to her own fate. Finally starting to come to her senses, Satine glanced wildly around the room. Alana was gone. Septimus was still unconscious on the floor, and there was no sign of the snake. Only Solaris remained, and when Desmond tried to stand up, the vampire was there to pull him back to his feet. “Get her out of here.” Desmond’s voice was strained, fists clenching around the collar of Solaris’s ruined lacy silk shirt. On anyone else it would have looked ridiculous, but somehow Solaris made it work. “You are not well my friend,” he said, grasping Desmond’s shoulder when he stumbled again. Satine glanced at Desmond’s hand. The bleeding had already stopped and there were hardly any signs at all of the snake bite. The last half hour was a clumsy mishmash of clouded ideas that she was only now beginning to sort through. Her mind hadn't been her own for so long, she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. Desmond had been bitten, right? Then there was the dream lady, the kiss--was he dying? What-The necklace. With sudden realization, Satine knew what it was about the woman in her dreams that had been so familiar. She'd seen it glint in the rustle of the breeze. The necklace the lady wore was the same one the sweet old woman from her apartment, the one with the cat named Mr. Gatsby had been wearing. But that didn't make any sense. Was it just another hallucination? Her mind mixing up her own memories with what the curse wanted her to see? That rush of the astheneías agápia coming full circle should have drained her and Desmond both, but only left her feeling better than she’d felt in, well, ever.

She had no more time to think about it, because Desmond was saying, “Just get her out of here,” to Solaris, and Satine was yanked back to her current problem, tugging fiercely at the leather straps. “Wait!” Part of her wanted to yell at him to come back, part of her was terrified of what he might do if he did. “You will not have problems with Septimus’s men,” Solaris said, helping Desmond to the door. “Quinn and Benny are waiting for you outside. Micah and Kenji must have contact Nyathera because they were met with the arrival of some surprising allies.” They were both ignoring her. Desmond was leaving! Forget rubbing her wrists raw in a desperate attempt to get loose, she’d break her arms if she had to. “Desmond stop!” To her surprise he did, halfway out the doorway. “Don’t go,” she said, suddenly exhausted. “Please.” If there was one thing she could get out of this whole mess, it was the truth. “I don’t know what just happened, and I’m sure you had your reasons, but please, just--“ her voice caught in hurt and confusion and she couldn’t finish, just tell me why. It was Solaris who laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Satine,” he said quietly. “You must let him go.” She couldn’t. As frustrating and bizarre as it all was, as betrayed as she now felt, Satine couldn’t bear the thought. She needed answers, needed the truth. But most of all, she wanted to know why. What was the big “IT” everyone wanted, and had he gotten it? Was Desmond the big winner at the end of the let’s-all-screw-up-Satine game? Sure they fought ninety percent of the time, but a lot of that had to be because of the curse, right? There were moments when he’d let down his guard--brief though they were--where she'd trusted him, liked him even. They hadn’t really had a chance to get to know each other, and like it or not, she owed him her life. It was stupid to feel betrayed, rejected, she knew that. Somehow Desmond had been given an order by the mysterious woman from her dreams, and he'd followed it out, end of deal, contract terminated. Still…How could he just walk away? Now that he’d found whatever it was he was looking for, now that he was no longer cursed to be near her, was he just going to leave her here? To what, to die? Desmond was still in the door. Solaris was still waiting for her reply. A lump in her throat, she had to ask it, forced it out. “Why?” “Because you are both still too close to the edge,” he said gently. “Anything you ask of him, Desmond will not be able to refuse.” She did a double-take. Uh…“What?” “What did you see?” He asked the question everyone had been asking all night, and Satine ran through the past few minutes in her mind: Alana, the door, the bowl, the snake, Septimus, Alana again, the curse, the need, the woman, the--She stopped. The choice. The dream woman had given them a choice. She said it was too late to break the curse, but she could help. “No…” Satine breathed, realizing the awful truth. Desmond hadn’t betrayed her, he’d sacrificed himself. He could have put it on her, could have done what every other person who’d been out to find her was planning on doing and make her his slave, but he hadn’t. In the end, when it was all said

and done, he took the fall. He didn’t complain, didn’t blame her, just accepted it and moved on like he did everything else in his life. How could anyone be that selfless? After everything she’d put him through, dragging him into this crazy mess, getting him cursed, beaten, tortured, nearly getting him killed more times than she could count, he would still choose her life over his? The weight of what she’d done to him, even if she hadn’t known it at the time, was crushing. She opened her mouth to apologize, but closed it. What did you say to someone who gave himself in your place? Especially when it was someone you were pretty sure already hated you? She wasn’t at all clear on the specifics, but she had no doubt in her mind that Desmond had just saved her from a fate worse than death. Looking at Septimus lying on the floor, she knew she had to repay him, whatever the cost. “You didn’t have to do it,” she said to Desmond’s back, willing him to turn around. “One more minute and--” “You would have been bound to Septimus for life,” he interrupted, spinning to face her. “Or would you have preferred that instead?” “You know I wouldn’t,” she bit back, stung by the bitterness of his tone. “But Solaris had him down--” “I couldn’t have stopped him,” the vampire interrupted softly. “That was the bargain Septimus had. The Wizard’s life in exchange for the certainty that when the time came, all Septimus had to do was be the first to reach you and he would be guaranteed your Master.” She stared at him. “How could you possible know that?” “There are many things you have yet to learn about vampires my dear,” he said, patting her arm. He was a lot less scary now than he had been when they’d first met. A time that now felt a lifetime away. “So this whole thing,” Satine said, still full of a million unanswered questions, “was just a race to see who would be there to kiss me at the end?” It came out harsher than she'd meant. It all sounded so ridiculous, but like it or not, this was her new reality. “No,” Desmond answered with a narrowing look of disdain. “It started out exactly what we told you. As a way to keep you safe from Alastair.” “Because he knew.” “Because everyone knew.” “So all the mysterious calls, the instant messaging at the hotel, the people chasing us--” She stopped talking at the look on his face. Fine, people were after her, she got it. “And now?” she asked, changing direction. “What happens now?” His face faded into total neutrality, and she was sure he wasn’t going to answer until he finally said a simple, “We’ll just have to see.” “Aaarrrgh!” That was it. She was done with the non-answer answers. She'd been poked and prodded, dragged all over the world, and for what? “Why would you do it?” Satine demanded, angry tears threatening to fall. She yanked on the leather straps, hating the fact that she was tied up in the first place. “You had a choice, Desmond.” Her determination bore into him. Why would you ever choose such a horrible punishment for yourself? I should have been the one, it should have been me enslaved! She waited for an answer but got nothing. Desmond flicked his gaze towards the open hallway and she let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, go. If that’s what you want so badly, then get out of here!” She really didn’t expect him to leave, but he did.

With great despair and a heart heavy with guilt, Satine watched Desmond disappear down the dark hallway. Tears stung her eyes. “This isn’t over,” she whispered, blinking rapidly to keep from crying. “No,” Solaris agreed, following her gaze. “It’s just beginning.” ### A Note From The Author Fear not dear reader, there is much more where that came from! Like Solaris says, "It's just beginning," for Satine and company. I know you must have a lot of questions, but so does Satine, and like her, we'll get a chance to ask them later. Look for the next book in the series, The Deleons out soon! In the meantime, feel free to drop me a note at [email protected]. I'd love to hear what you thought about this first adventure, and what you'd like to see in the future. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and here's to seeing you again on our next journey! (PS-You might want to pack accordingly, I hear it's going to be hot! ;)) Lots of love, Kristine