Khira paced the floor of her bedroom, her eyes blazing, her hands curled into tight fists. Curses spewed from her mouth like venom, filling the air with the poison of her hatred.

Grigori stood in the doorway, every muscle taut, his face impassive as he waited to see where her fury would lead. Earlier, it had taken all the strength he possessed to drag her off Ramsey and out of the park. He only hoped Ramsey had sense enough to take Kelly and leave town, or at least go to ground until Khira's rage ran its course, until they could formulate a plan to destroy her. And Marisa... He dared not send his power into the night searching for her lest his thoughts betray her whereabouts to Khira. Surely the vampyre hunter, Duncan, would have sense enough to lie low and take Marisa with him.

Absently he rubbed his fingertips over his wrist. As soon as they had reached home, Khira had grabbed his arm and fed. She had not asked. There had been no gentleness in her as her fangs had ripped into his flesh. He had steeled himself for a fight to the finish then, certain that, caught up in her rage, she would kill him without a thought. But she had stopped well short of draining him, and he knew it had been her way of reasserting her dominion over him, proving to him -  and perhaps to herself - that she was still in control.

She had not needed to feed so soon, not after she had drained Lisa of blood in what had been an act of cruelly, not of necessity. Khira hadn't been in need of anything but a reaffirmation of her power. Duncan's use of the holy water had shaken her badly. She was nothing if not vain of her appearance.

His gaze moved over Khira's face. Already the effects of the holy water were fading. By tomorrow or the day after, her skin would be as unblemished and flawless as before.

Looking at her now, her features contorted with hate, he wondered how he had ever thought her beautiful.

"We are not all monsters." Her words from long ago echoed through the corridors of his mind. "Look at me. Do I appear a monster to you?" She had not looked like a monster then. With her regal bearing and costly attire, she had looked like a queen.

She did not look like a queen now.

She whirled around, pinning him with her venomous gaze. "Say something!"

"What would you have me say?"

"I want you to tell me why you took their side." Her voice rose. "I want you to tell me why you did not come to my aid when they attacked me!"

It was the question he had been waiting for. And dreading.

"Why?" Teeth bared, she flew at him.

He ducked out of her way, whirled around to face her. "Stop it."

She drew herself up to her full height. "You dare to tell me what to do?" she demanded imperiously.

"Enough is enough. You are acting like a spoiled child."

"You betrayed me."

"I did nothing of the kind."

Renewed anger flared in the depths of her eyes. "I expected you to fight at my side."

"And do what?'' he retorted. "Help you destroy Ramsey? I did not save his life to have you take it from him."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why did you save him?"

"Because, in spite of everything he was, everything he believed, I respected him."

"You are a fool!"

"But not a tyrant."

She glared at him. "A tyrant? Because I demand loyalty?"

"What have you ever done to earn it?"

She placed her hand over his heart. "Have you forgotten that I made you what you are, Grigori?" she asked, her voice deceptively sweet.

"How could I?"

Her fingers dug into his flesh. "I gave you this life, my handsome one. I can take it from you just as easily."

"You think so?" he asked, his own considerable anger rising to meet hers. "Then try! Go on, do it! I grow weary of your threats."

He had pushed her too far this time. As soon as the words were uttered, he knew with a dreadful certainty that he had made what might be a fateful mistake. She bared her fangs in a feral snarl, her eyes glittering like blue hellfire.

She was going to kill him.

Her power lashed out at him with sudden force. His knees buckled beneath the weight of it, but did not give. He bit back the groan that rose in his throat. There was no pain in the world quite like it. Even the hot kiss of the sun was not as excruciating as the cold fire that flowed through him now, burning him from the inside out.

Gathering his strength, he met force with force, his legs spread, his head high.

They faced each other, unmoving, as their wills clashed. Slowly, inexorably, he felt her strength begin to erode his own. In that moment, when her power flowed over him and through him, he knew he had no hope of defeating her. Not now, not alone. She had taken only a little of his blood, but it had been enough to weaken him and strengthen her. What a stubborn, arrogant fool he had been to challenge her in her present mood. Had she known he would defy her? Had she purposely set out to rouse his ire in hopes of bringing him to his knees?

He swore under his breath. He would not submit to her. Nor was he strong enough to defeat her in a head-to-head confrontation. But he was still strong, and smart enough to end the battle before she anticipated his intent.

Drawing from the deep wellspring of Marisa's love, he reached down inside himself, gathered his power around him, and in a last desperate maneuver, flung it outward, momentarily blocking Khira's attack. Using the last of his strength, he willed himself out of the room and out of the house.

Her outraged cry followed him into the night.

"I will destroy you! I will destroy all of you! And your woman, too!"

Marisa bolted upright. "Something's wrong!" Duncan switched on the light next to his bed. "What's the matter?" he asked sleepily. "Bad dream?"

"No. It's..." She glanced around the room. "It's Grigori. He's in terrible pain."

She had gone to bed fully clothed, shy in the presence of a man who was little more than a stranger. Throwing back the covers, she slipped out of bed and went to the window, where she pulled the heavy drapes aside. The sky was just turning light.

Chilled, she folded her arms across her chest. "Grigori has quarreled with her. He's run away. Grigori," she whispered. "Grigori, my life, my love, where are you?"

He fled the mansion, fled the city, with the sun rising behind him, and with Khira's last angry words ringing in his mind: "I will destroy all of you! And your woman, too!"

"Like hell," he muttered. With the help of Ramsey and Marisa, he had destroyed Alexi Kristov, once the most powerful vampire that had ever lived. They had done it once. They could do it again.

He fled through the weak light of early dawn, feeling the lethargy of the Dark Sleep pulling at his weakened limbs, until he found what he was looking for: a barren stretch of ground. Using the last of his strength, he burrowed into the earth, clawing at the dirt with his fingers, digging deep, deeper, in a frantic effort to escape the rising sun.

Panting, he gathered the dirt around and over him, blotting out the first deadly rays of the rising sun. His last thought was of Marisa, and then he was beyond thought as the Dark Sleep enveloped him, pulling him down, down, into nothingness.

Kelly snuggled against Edward. "Will we be safe here?"

"We should be." Edward glanced around the room. It was a first-class hotel in an expensive part of the city. The desk clerk had been reluctant to admit them without any luggage, but Edward had used his Dark Power to cloud the man's mind, and now he and Kelly were reclining on a big round bed in the bridal suite. The carpet was plush, the furniture elegant, the bathroom, with its sunken tub and double shower, bigger than most of the houses he had lived in.

"She killed that poor girl," Kelly said, shuddering at the memory. "Killed her for no reason."

Edward nodded. Stroking Kelly's hair, he stared into the darkness. He was appalled by the events of the night, by his own shortsightedness and stupidity. He should have known that Khira would not allow Grigori out of her sight. Guilt for Lisa's death lay heavy on his conscience. And yet it was Khira who was to blame. Khira who must be destroyed.

He squeezed Kelly's shoulder. "Try not to think about it."

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to find Duncan and Marisa tomorrow night," he replied. "It's time to end this."

Duncan woke late the following afternoon. Except for being hungry enough to eat a very large horse, tail and all, he felt surprisingly fit considering all that had happened the night before.

He glanced at Marisa. Exhausted by her worry for her vampire lover, she was asleep, her cheek resting on her hand. It looked as if she had cried herself to sleep. He could hardly blame her. Being married to a vampire couldn't be easy at the best of times, and now... he shook his head. Now it must be hell.

When his stomach growled again, he got out of bed. Going into the bathroom, he made a cup of coffee, then turned on the shower. When the water was hot, he undressed and stepped into the stall, carrying the cup with him.

Standing under the soothing spray, he reckoned it was sometimes the small things in life that were the best. If he had been alone, he would have stayed in the shower until the water got cold, but he was pretty sure Marisa wouldn't appreciate that. The least he could do was leave her some hot water.

He turned off the faucet, toweled himself dry, dressed, and brushed his teeth. When he reentered the room, Marisa was awake. "Hope I didn't wake you."

"No."

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I left you some hot water."

She nodded wordlessly.

Crossing the floor, he sat down on the bed beside her. "It'll be all right. You'll see."

She shook her head. "You don't know how awful it was the last time... fighting Alexi... I don't think I can go through all that again."

"I guess it was pretty rough, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"That's the night Edward was changed?"

She nodded.

"How'd it happen?"

"Edward was under Alexi's control. He had drugged Grigori, then drained some of his blood to weaken him. Alexi told Edward to take the bowl filled with Grigori's blood and dispose of it. I begged Edward not to leave me, but he was helpless to resist Alexi's power.

"But Grigori had taken Edward's blood and he was able to speak to his mind. I didn't know that at the time, of course. I fought Alexi, but he only laughed at me."

She heard Alexi's voice in her mind again, as real as it had been that horrible night

"Fight me all you wish, woman; you cannot escape me. I will take you here, now, and there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing Chiavari can do to save you." Wicked laughter bubbled up from his throat. "I know the power of those chains. He does not have the strength to remove them. Even now, the silver burns his flesh and weakens his powers. Only a vampire who has lived as long as I could withstand them. And he is but a babe compared to me."

He gazed down at her, his eyes glowing with hatred. "He took Antoinette from me, and now I shall take you from him. I will defile you, here, in his presence, and then I shall destroy him. And when that is done, you will be mine for a hundred years. And he will know it. In whatever hell he finds himself, he will know it."

She shook her head, trying to throw off the horrible memory. "I was so afraid. I looked at Grigori, but he couldn't help me, and I knew Alexi was going to kill me. And suddenly..." She took a deep breath. "Suddenly, Edward burst into the room. His mouth was smeared with blood. I knew it was Grigori's, that he had... had drank the blood from the bowl. His eyes were wild. He had a stake in his hand, and he hurled himself at Alexi."

"Good old Edward," Duncan said. "Got him like that, huh?"

"Not quite. Alexi was unbelievably strong. I dragged the heavy chain off Grigori and let him drink from my wrist."

She remembered the prick of his fangs, the oddly sensual flow of blood from her vein. He seemed to drink forever, yet it was only a handful of seconds, and then he put her from him and rose to his feet.

"Go on," Duncan urged quietly.

"Edward and Alexi were still struggling. Edward had plunged the stake into Alexi's chest, but he had missed Alexi's heart. The vampire pulled the stake from his body and tossed it aside. And then he flung Edward against the wall and held him there. And he... he drank and drank. And suddenly, Grigori was there. He grabbed the stake and plunged it into Alexi's heart."

Her voice was flat, expressionless, as she relived the horror of it all. "Alexi screamed. It was an awful sound. Grigori twisted the stake, driving it deeper and deeper. Alexi sank to his knees. His face turned a hideous shade of gray. Grigori told me to get the chain and put it over Alexi." She laughed hollowly. "I don't know why. I mean, he was dead. Again. I thought Edward was, too. He was... he was lying on the floor. His throat was... was gone. I asked Grigori if he was dead, and he said no, not yet."

She looked at Duncan, hoping for his understanding. "I couldn't let Edward die, not when he'd saved us. I asked Grigori to save him. He didn't want to. He told me Edward wouldn't like it, that he would rather be dead. But I couldn't let him die. There had been so much death already..." She smiled faintly. "Grigori told me I'd have to take the blame. He made me sit down and covered me with a blanket, then told me to close my eyes. But I didn't. I couldn't."

Duncan leaned forward. He had killed vampires, and he had a pretty good idea of how the Dark Gift worked, but he had never seen anyone brought across.

"Grigori knelt on the floor and drew Edward into his lap. He turned Edward's head to the side. I saw Grigori take a deep breath, and then he bent over Edward. I couldn't see much. I don't know how much time went by, probably not more than a few minutes. And then Grigori bit his own wrist and placed the bleeding wound to Edward's lips and told Edward to drink."

"And he did," Duncan said.

"Yes, he did. It was..." She shook her head, at a loss for words to describe adequately what she had seen.

Grigori had looked at her then, his eyes dark, fathomless, penetrating. This is what I am, what I have always been.

"It was like a miracle," she went on. "The horrible wound in Edward's throat healed in just a few minutes. His color returned. He didn't know what had happened at first."

Edward had glanced from Chiavari to Marisa. "What the hell happened?"

"How do you feel, Edward?" she had asked.

"I feel fine," he retorted. "I want to know what the..." His words trailed off when he caught sight of Alexi's body. "Is he dead?"

She shrugged. "I hope so."

"He's dead," Grigori remarked. He regarded Ramsey through narrowed eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Why do you two keep asking me that? I feel... "Edward frowned. "I feel funny." He looked at Alexi again. "I stabbed him, and then he..."

Edward lifted one hand to his throat. "He bit me. Ripped my jugular. I remember... what happened?"

"You were dying," she told him.

Edward stared at Grigori, a look of horror spreading over his face. "You didn't? For the love of all that's holy, tell me you didn't!"

"It was my idea," she said. "He didn't want to."

"You told him to turn me into one of them? How could you?"

She remembered standing up, the bedspread clutched to her chest. "Would you rather be dead, Edward?"

He had scrambled to his feet and backed away from them both. "Of course I would..." he began, and then, shoulders slumping, he buried his face in his hands.

"Well, he seems to have adjusted readily enough now," Duncan remarked drily.

"Perhaps," she said. "He went through - so much pain. He tried to walk out into the sun, to destroy himself. He even asked Grigori to destroy him. He was very troubled. And then Kelly came into his life..."

"Ah, true love," Duncan said with a twist of bitterness. "What happened to Kristov's body?"

"Grigori dragged it out onto the balcony. He said the sun would take care of it."

"Hell of a story."

She nodded.

"You're worried about him, aren't you? Chiavari?"

"Of course. I love him." She clutched his arm. "You're not going to try and kill him, are you? Or Edward? Or Kelly?"

"Sounds like you're trying to put me out of business. Killing vampires is what I do. It's all I know."

She let go of his arm, her gaze probing his. "I thought Edward was your friend."

"He was. He is." Duncan shook his head. "Damn, I don't know what to do anymore." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've spent close to fifteen years hunting vampires. I've always believed they were evil, that they had to be destroyed." He stood and began to pace the floor. "Look at Kristov! The man was a monster. And Khira? She's even worse. She's killing people every night. Who knows how many of the people on the city's missing-persons reports are dead and gone, killed by her hand?"

"Grigori wouldn't..."

"He's killed, too. And, damn it, so has Edward."

"So have you."

"Vampires are already dead. You can't kill something that's dead." Agitated, he slammed his fist into the wall. Life had been so simple before. He had been one of the good guys. The undead were the bad guys. Black and white. No shades of gray. And now... he swore under his breath. Right or wrong, he couldn't kill Edward.

"Tom?" She looked up at him, a silent appeal in her eyes. "I love Grigori."

"All right, all right. I won't hunt him. Or Edward."

"Or Kelly?"

He swore again. "Or Kelly."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, sure," Tom muttered ruefully. "Who knows? Maybe I can go into the movie business as a consultant on horror movies. Or write the next bestseller. Vampires Are Us."