Too soon, she thought, when she knew dawn approached. She studied his profile as he lay beside her, and she thought again she'd never known a man so handsome. No shadow of beard darkened his jawline. In fact, his face was as smooth as it had been earlier. He caught her gaze on him and smiled. "I shall have to leave you soon," he said, giving voice to her thoughts.

She snuggled closer, wishing he didn't. "Where do you go? Do you rest in-in a coffin?"

He nodded, sitting up slightly and reaching for his shirt. "Does the idea repulse you?"

"Nothing about you could ever repulse me, Eric." She sat up, too, as he poked his muscled arms into the white sleeves. She pushed his hands away when he began to button the shirt, and leaned over to button it herself. "I don't think I'd like seeing you in it, though. Why a coffin, anyway? Is it some kind of vampire tradition? Why not a bed, for God's sake?"

He laughed, tipping his head back. Tamara found her gaze glued to the corded muscles in his neck. She leaned nearer and pressed her lips to it. He stroked her hair. "It is for protection. There are more humans who know of our existence than you would believe. Most would like nothing better than to terminate it. We could sleep in vaults, or behind locked doors, I suppose. But nothing offers more protection than a coffin, which locks from the inside and has a trapdoor built beneath it."

"Trapdoor?" She finished with his last button and looked up, interested. "Are you conscious enough to use it?"

"The scent of imminent danger would rouse me even from the deepest slumber. Not much, mind you, but I only need move one finger. The button is placed in the spot where my hand rests. When I touch it the hinged mattress swings down, dumping me into a hidden room below. It springs back into place on its own. The only side effects are a few aches from being dumped bodily."

"You feel pain, then?"

"Not while I'm holding you." As he spoke he pulled her into his arms. "But that is not the answer you wanted, is it? In truth, I feel everything more keenly than a human would. Heat, cold, pain." His fingers danced over her nape. " Pleasure," he whispered close to her ear. " Pain can incapacitate me, but whatever injuries I might sustain are healed while I rest. It's a regenerative sleep, you see." His lips moved over her temple. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and then her mouth, thoroughly and deeply. " I believe I will be in need of it after this night."

She smiled at his little joke, but the smile died when she realized that the sky beyond the window was beginning to lighten. She looked at his heavy-lidded eyes, and she felt his growing lethargy. "You need to rest." She pulled from his embrace, reached for their clothes and handed his to him. "Come on, it'll be light soon."

"Too soon," he told her. But he took the trousers from her, and slid off the bed to put them on. "I still dislike the thought of you going back to St. Claire today."

"I know." She fastened her jeans, and walked around the bed to stand close to him. "I have to, though. And I love you more for not trying to tell me what to do. I know you don't think highly of Daniel, but just like he's wrong about you, you're wrong about him, Eric. He isn't all bad."

In the distance the sky began to turn from gray to pink. Eric's shoulders lost their usual spread. His chin wasn't as high as it had been. She put an arm around his waist, and he draped one over her shoulders. She was beginning to feel tired, as well. They descended the stairs side by side, and all too soon stood locked together in the open doorway as Eric kissed her one last time.

She fought her sleepiness as she drove back home. She thought she might have time to catch an hour or two of sleep before she'd have to force herself awake and head in to work. She'd decided to resign. She couldn't, continue working for DPI, knowing how they'd sponsored Eric's constant harassment over the years. Besides, it now was a blatant conflict of interest. She was in love with the subject of their longest-running investigation.

She let herself in, and caught her breath. Daniel, fully dressed, lay sprawled on the sofa, one arm and one leg dangling. A blanket had been tossed over him, but he'd only twisted himself up in it. His hair looked as if he'd been outside in a strong wind. When she drew nearer, the odor of stale alcohol assaulted her, and she saw the empty whiskey bottle on the floor.

"Well, finally made it home, did you?"

She caught her breath and looked up fast. Curtis lounged in the doorway that led into the huge dining room, a cup of coffee in his hand. "What are you doing here, Curt?" She glanced quickly at the clock on the wall. It was only five-forty-five.

"You've been with him all night, haven't you?"

There was something in his eyes, some coldness in his voice, that frightened her. "I'm an adult, Curt. Where I go is my business."

He straightened, came across the room and slammed the cup onto a table. "Can't you see how perverted this is? He's a frigging animal! And you're no better-acting like a bitch in heat. Christ, Tammy, if you'd needed it that bad all you had to do was ask-"

She reached him in two long strides and brought her hand across his face hard enough to rock him back on his feet. " Get out!"

"I don't think so." He stood facing her, and she saw absolute hatred in his eyes. How had she ever thought she had a true friend in this man? He blinked, though, and altered his tone of voice. "You're under some kind of spell, Tammy."

"What went on here last night?" She took a step to the side and went past him, through the dining room, knowing he'd follow. In the kitchen she got a cup of coffee for herself, and added sugar, hoping it would give her an energy boost.

"Daniel drank himself into a coma. What does it look like?" She turned, cup in hand, and frowned at him. "He called me around midnight, babbling about you and Marquand. I couldn't make sense of half of it. By the time I got here he'd drained the bottle. He was slurring something about dropping the research, or losing you forever. Is that the game plan, Tam? You use emotional blackmail on a guy who's been like a father to you? Force him to give up forty years of work, just so you can have your kinky fling?"

She felt no anger at his remarks. Only joy. "He said he was going to drop it?"

Curt's glare was once again filled with loathing. "He was too drunk to know what he was saying. But let me tell you something, Tam. I'm not going to drop it. Daniel has taught me everything he knows, so if he's ready to throw in the towel, I'll pick it up. You won't manipulate me the way you do him."

She opened her mouth to hurl a scathing reply, but saw Daniel standing weakly beyond Curt, making his way into the kitchen. "You, Curtis, will do what I tell you. I got you this far in DPI, and I can just as easily have you tossed out."

He made it to a kitchen chair, leaned on the back of it for a moment, head down, then pulled it out and sat down. "Daniel, are you okay?" She turned to pour a cup of coffee, and then set it before him. "Can I get you anything?" He looked at her for a long moment, seemingly searching for something. Finally he shook his head, and stared into the coffee cup.

"I owe her, Curtis. You know it as well as I do. We're dropping it."

"You're falling for her game, hook, line and sinker, aren't you?" Curt paced the room, shaking his head, pushing his hands through his hair. "Can't you see she's sold you out? She's joined the enemy, Daniel. She's the one we should have been studying all this time. I always told you she was more vampire than human!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tamara set her coffee down, spilling half of it.

"You mean to tell me you still don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

Daniel struggled to his feet, one hand massaging his forehead. "That's enough, Curtis. I think you ought to leave now. Tamara and I need to talk."

Curtis eyed Tamara narrowly. "You mark my words, Tammy. You go through with this sick liaison and we'll all end up dead. You'll have my blood on your hands." He nodded toward Daniel. "And his. You just remember that I warned you." He turned on his heel and strode away. A second later the front door slammed, rattling the windows. Daniel returned to his seat, shaking his head. "He'll get over it. Tam. Give him time."

She sat across from him and slipped her hand over his. "He's wrong, Daniel. Eric is the gentlest man I've ever known. I want..." She drew a steadying breath and plunged on. "I want you to meet him. Talk to him. I want you to see that he's not what you think."

He nodded. "I figured you would, and I suppose I have to. I don't mind telling you. Tam, I'm afraid of him. The scientist in me is excited, though. To be that close. . ." He nodded again, and went on. "The biggest part of me knows this is inevitable. I'll do my best to make my peace with him, Tam. I've been over it a million times, all night long. It boils down to one thing." He reached up and cupped her face with one hand. "I don't want to lose you." Slowly he closed his eyes. " Bringing you into this house, into my life changed everything for me, Tamara. Before that I was. . ." He opened his eyes and she was surprised to see tears brimming in them. He shook his head.

"Go on. You were what?"

"A different man. A bastard, Tamara. More of a monster than Marquand could ever be. And I'm sorry for it... sorrier than you'll ever know."

She shook her head, not certain what to say. She felt this to be the most honest moment they'd ever shared.

She finished her coffee and went to bed, and Daniel didn't wake her. In fact, she was roused by the phone, shocked when she blinked her clock into focus and saw the time. She groped for the phone when it shrilled again, and brought it to her, wondering why Daniel hadn't answered it himself.

"Tam?"

At the familiar voice, her irritation dissolved. "Jamey?" She frowned and checked the clock once more. "Why aren't you in school?"

"I cut out. Tam..." He sighed and it sounded shaky. Tamara sat up in bed. "Something's wrong."

"Are you sick?" Her alarm sent the lethargy skittering to a dark corner of her mind. "Did you get hurt or something? Do you want me to call your mom?"

"No. It's not like that, it's something else." Another shuddering sigh. "I'm not sure what it is."

"Okay, Jamey, calm down. Just tell me where you are, and-"

"I took a cab. I'm at a pay phone in Byram. I didn't want to come to the house."

At least that was normal. The rambling Victorian had always given Jamey a case of the creeps. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Hurry, Tam, or we'll be too late."

Fear made her voice soft. "Too late for what, Jamey?"

"I don't know! Just hurry, okay?"

"Okay." She replaced the receiver with shaking hands. Something was terribly wrong. She'd heard the terror in Jamey's voice. Along with her gut-twisting concern was a flare of anger. Whoever was responsible for upsetting him this much would have to answer for it. She yanked on jeans and a sweatshirt. She pulled on socks and sneakers, then a jacket. She took a hairbrush from her purse and jerked it through her hair on the way down the stairs. Daniel was just coming up from the basement.

"What is it, hon?"

"Jamey. He's all out of sorts about something. I'm going to meet him in town, buy him a burger and talk him through it." She hugged Daniel quickly, then shoved the brush back into her bag and pulled out her keys.

Five minutes later she picked Jamey up. He was tugging on the Bug's door before it came to a full stop. He climbed in, looking pale and wide-eyed. "I think I'm goin' crazy," he announced.

Her instinct was to tell him that was nonsense, but she'd felt the same way recently-too often not to take his fear seriously. "I've thought that a time or two myself, pal." She searched his young face. Eleven years old was far too young to have such serious troubles weighing on him. "Tell me about it."

"You know before, when I asked you if you knew someone named Eric?" She stiffened, but nodded. " Well, I hope you know where he lives. We have to go there."

She didn't question Jamey. She put the car in gear and moved quickly down the street. "Do you know why?"

Jamey closed, his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if it ached. "I think somebody's trying to kill him."

"My God." She pressed the accelerator to the floor, shifting rapidly.

"It's been coming in my head ever since I hung up the phone. It won't leave me alone until we go there-but it doesn't make sense."

"Why?"

"Because. . . I get the feeling he's already dead."

She drove the Bug as fast as it would go, and it vibrated with the effort. Even then, it took twenty minutes to reach the tall gate at the end of Eric's driveway. Tamara almost cried out when she saw Curt's car, pulled haphazardly onto the roadside nearby. She slammed on her brakes, killed the motor, wrenched the door open. She ran to the gate with Jamey on her heels.

It had been battered with something heavy. The pretty filigree vines were bent, some broken. The gate hung open and the electronic box inside was crushed. Pieces of its insides littered the snow. A single set of footprints led over the driveway, toward the house.

"Eric!" Tamara's scream echoed in the stillness as the reality of what was happening bludgeoned her mind. A small, firm hand caught hers and tugged her through the gate.

"C'mon, Tam. Come on, hurry!"

She blinked against the tears but they continued to fall unchecked. She couldn't see where her feet were coming down as she ran headlong, guided only by that strong grip. Eric's castle like home loomed ahead, a tear-blurred mound of rough-hewn blocks. In a matter of seconds they were at the door, which stood yawning.

She swiped her eyes and hurried through. The living room looked as if a madman had raged through. Maybe that was exactly what had happened. The priceless antique furniture lay toppled. Some had been smashed. One of the needlepoint chairs had a leg missing. Vases lay in bits on the parquet floor. Heavy, marble-topped tables lay like fallen trees.

She stumbled almost blindly onward, through the formal dining room, where a candelabra had been hurled through a window, into the kitchen where cupboard doors had been ripped from their hinges. The sounds of breaking glass reached her and she turned, glimpsing the door she hadn't noticed. It hung open wide with a stairway that could only lead to the cellar. The sounds came from the darkness below, and a hand of ice choked her. She had no idea where Eric's coffin was, but if she'd had to hazard a guess she would have guessed the cellar. She approached the door.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump so suddenly she almost fell down the stairs. Jamey's other hand steadied her. "I called the police," he told her softly.

"Good. Stay by the front door and wait for them, okay?"

He looked up at her, but didn't agree. He remained at the top, though, as she slowly descended the stairs. Her foot on a different surface told her when she'd reached the bottom. The air was thick with blackness and the strong aroma of spilled wine. Glass shattered and she forced herself to move toward the sounds. "Curtis!" She shouted his name and the noise abruptly stopped. She stood still. "Stop it, Curt. Just stop it-this is crazy."

She waited while her eyes adjusted to the dark. She finally made out his shape. It grew clearer. He stood near a demolished wine rack, and he held a double-bitted ax. Broken bottles littered the floor around him. He stood in puddles of wine. The rack's wood shelves hung in splinters.

"Get the hell out of here, Tammy. This isn't your business. It's between me and Marquand!" He lifted the ax again.

Tamara threw herself at his back, latching onto his shoulders from behind to keep him from doing more damage. He dropped the ax to the floor and reached back, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her from him. She stumbled, hit the wine-soaked floor, but scrambled to her feet again. She faced him, panting less from exertion than fear. "The police are on their way, Curt. You'll wind up in jail if you don't get out of here, right now."

He reached for her so fast she didn't have a chance to duck. He grabbed the front of her coat, bunching the material in his fists. He whirled her around, and slammed her back against what once had been the wine rack. The back of her head hit a broken shelf and red pain lanced her brain. "Where is he, Tammy?"

She blinked, feeling her knees weaken. She pressed her hands to the wall behind her for support, then she froze. She felt a hinge beneath her palm. This was no wine rack. It was a door. What the hell would a vampire want with wine, anyway? Why hadn't she guessed sooner? And when would it hit Curt?

She sucked air through her teeth. "He's not-here."

The back of his hand connected with her jaw, and his knuckles felt like rocks. "I said, where is he? You damn well know and you're damn well going to tell me."

Involuntarily a sob escaped. Tears burned over her face. Curtis let go of her coat, but gripped her shoulders. "Christ, Tammy, I don't want to hurt you. You're under his control, dammit. You'll never see him for what he is until he's gone. If I don't do it, he'll kill us all."

She faced him squarely and shook her head. "You're wrong!"

"He's not even human," he told her.

"He's more human than you'll ever be!"

Curt's hand rose again, but it was caught from behind. "Leave her alone," Jamey shouted.

"What the hell?" Curt looked back, shaking Jamey's grip away effortlessly. Then he turned on him. "You little-"

"Curtis, no!" But before he could hit the boy, Jamey lowered his head and plowed into Curt's midsection like a battering ram. Both went down in a tangle of arms and legs and broken bottles. Tamara grabbed Curt's arm and tried to pull him away.

"Hold it right there!" A strong light shone down the stairs, and footsteps hurriedly descended. A police officer took Tamara's arm and pulled her away, while another lifted Curt, none too gently, then bent over Jamey. "You all right, son?"

"Fine. I'm the one who called you." He pointed an accusing finger at Curtis. "He broke in... with that." He angled his finger toward the ax on the floor.

The cop whistled, helping Jamey to his feet, and turned back to Curt. "Izzat right?" He took Curt's arm and urged him up the stairs, while the second officer herded Tamara and Jamey ahead of him. At the top, in the better light, her officer tugged her into the living room and told her his name was Sumner.

"You the owner?"

"No. I. . . he's out of town and I was keeping an eye on the place for him," she lied easily. Jamey stood aside, not saying a word.

"I'll need his name and a number to reach him." He'd pulled a stereotypical dog-eared notepad from his pocket. "He's en route," she said. "But he should be back tonight."

He nodded, took down Tamara's name, address and phone number, then bent his head and frowned, his eyes fixed to her jawline. "Did he do that?"

Tamara's fingers touched the bruised flesh. She nodded, and saw anger flash in the officer's green eyes. "I need to take Jamey home, and... get myself together. I know you need a full statement, but do you think I could come in later and give it to you then?"

He scanned her face, and nodded. "You want to press assault charges?"

"Will it keep him jail overnight?"

He winked. "I can guarantee that."

"Then I guess I do." The officer nodded, took Eric's name down and advised her to have herself looked at by a doctor. Then he went into the dining room and spoke to his partner. Moments later Curds was led toward the front door with his hands cuffed together behind his back.

"You'll regret this," he repeated again and again. "I'm a federal officer."

"One without a warrant, which in our book makes you just another breaking and entering, vandalism and aggravated assault case." Sumner continued lecturing as they went out the door and along the driveway.

Jamey looked to be in shock. Tamara went to him and ran one hand through his dark, curly hair. "You have guts like I've never seen, kiddo." He looked up but didn't smile. "I hate to admit it, Jamey, but I'm awfully glad you were here with me."

A smile began beneath hollow eyes. "What's going on? Why did Curtis want to kill Eric?"

She looked at him, not blinking. "A lot of reasons. Jealousy might be one, and fear. Curt is definitely afraid of Eric." She wouldn't lie to Jamey. She wasn't certain why, but he was a part of all of this. "Eric is different-not like everyone else. Some people fear what they don't understand. Some would rather destroy anything different, than learn about it." He still looked puzzled. "Do you know about the Salem witch trials?" He nodded. "Same principle is involved here."

Jamey sighed and shook his head, then grew calmer, and got the adult expression on his face that told her he was thinking like one. "Fear what's different, destroy what you fear."

She sighed, awed at the insight of the child. "Sometimes you amaze me." She walked with him out the door, and pulled it closed. She propped the gate with a big rock, so it would at least look like a deterrent. "You think it'll be all right until I get back?"

Jamey frowned at her. "I don't have any more weird feelings jumping in and out of my brain, if that's what you mean." He smiled fully for the first time.

"You know, Jamey, you probably saved my life in there. If you hadn't called the cops. . ." She shook her head. "And you likely saved Eric's, too, as well as his friend, Roland."

He looked back at the house, with one hand on the car door.

"They're in there, aren't they?" He didn't wait for an answer. "They would've helped us, but they couldn't. If Curt had found them, he'd have killed them."

He didn't ask Tamara to confirm or deny any of it. He just slid into the car and rode home in silence.

Tamara told Kathy the bare facts, while trying to gloss over the worst of it. Jamey envisioned a break-in at a friend's house. He and Tamara arrived just in time to prevent it. The suspect was in custody and all was well with the world. Tamara kept the bruised side of her face averted, and made excuses to hurry off without coming inside for a visit. Kathy Bryant, while flustered, took it all in stride.

Tamara arrived back at Eric's front gate a little after 5:00 p.m.