The German couple on the beautiful Triumph both looked back as Nick started her engine, and the husband glanced from Nick to the approaching constables and frowned. His wife whispered something in his ear, and he winked at Nick before he rolled his bike forward. The Triumph's bulk blocked the side entry and gave Nick enough clearance to go around him.

No matter what country they came from, in an emergency bikers were always happy to give you a hand.

"Whatever you do," Nick shouted over the sound of her revving engine to Gabriel, "don't let go of me."

As she released the parking brake and shot forward, a fluttering cloud filled the deck, causing the passengers to shriek. Nick drove through the swarm of moths, nosing the bike around the vehicles in front of her and speeding up and out of the tunnel station.

Gabriel's moths provided enough of a distraction to get them safely out of Folkstone, but Nick didn't stop until they were miles away. She pulled off the road to shake off some moths still clinging to her shirt, and make sure Gabriel wasn't too freaked out by what she had done.

"We're good," she told him as she helped him remove the helmet. The sunlight irritated his eyes, so she handed him her spare pair of shades. "You all right?"

"I am wishing I had killed that old man," he muttered, stroking one hand over her head. "It would have saved us much grief."

"We got away. What's a little grief, huh?" She hugged him, which turned into a kiss, which threatened to end up with the two of them rolling around the grass in the ditch. "Whoa. Save that for later, and tell me how to get to this guy Croft's shop."

Nick followed Gabriel's directions into the business district of London, and ended up in front of an old rare bookshop.

"'Mr. Pickard's Emporium of Literature'?" she read from the ornate sign painted in white across the spotless window. "Sounds like the captain from that second Star Trek series."

"My name is not Jean-Luc, young woman," a crisp, cultured voice informed her. It belonged to the man stepping out of the shop. "I am, regrettably, equally as bald and stuffy. I say, is that vampire on the back of your motorbike bothering you?"

Nick grinned. "Not really."

"Count yourself fortunate." He made an elegant sweep of his hand toward the sun. "Daylight does not make them turn to ash, but they become bloody damn infants, whining on about irritated eyes and sluggish limbs and so forth."

Gabriel climbed off the motorcycle and embraced the short, thin bald man.

"Croft, it has been too long since I've listened to your insults." Gabriel kissed both of his cheeks before turning toward Nick. "This is Nicola Jefferson. Nicola, although he would have you think otherwise, this is my very good friend Croft Pickard."

Pickard clasped Nick's hand between his before urging them into the shop. "Come inside before some religious zealot has at you with a pike or something."

Nick knew from the moment she stepped under the glass door's tinkling bell that she had entered someplace special. The aroma of old paper and aged leather tickled her nose, but so did another scent; something like mint and chocolate.

Croft's shop, she decided, had the perfect name. Elegantly carved, freestanding bookcases held shelf after shelf of antique books. Most were bound in leather and still showed their titles stamped in faded gilt on the spines. Some were displayed open under round glass domes, like cakes, while others were bound in sets of three and four with cream and gold silk ribbons.

Precious, beautiful things had to be kept safe. This more than anything decided things for Nick.

One sparkling crystal dish offered wrapped Swiss chocolates for the customers, and a live mint plant sprouted in one corner of the desk from a brass urn. Nick bent over to breathe in its fragrance. Mint and chocolate, two things she had genuinely missed.

"I hate to say it, but of all the Kyn I have expected to walk through that door," Croft said as he closed the blinds and locked the front door, "you never made the list."

"The Kyn believe I'm dead."

"They sent the word out on you more than a year ago. We had a very nice memorial service over at the club." Croft switched on an electric teakettle. "I know you can't stomach the stuff, but your charming escort appears in very great need of a cup of tea."

That was her cue.

"I can't stay." Nick stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and forced a smile. "I have some things to do. Gabriel, I'll be back in an hour to pick you up."

Croft stopped spooning tea leaves into the ceramic pot in his hand. "You don't have to leave, surely."

"You guys need some time to chat. By the way, they blinded him," she said, nodding toward Gabriel, "so don't let him wander out into traffic, okay?"

"Heavens, no." The bookshop owner looked horrified. "Completely blind?"

"Yeah." Nick kissed Gabriel on the cheek, keeping it casual. "See you."

She left the shop before he could say another word or she could change her mind. Because she wasn't coming back in an hour, and would never see him again, she didn't look back.

Gabriel was a gentleman. She was a thief. They had no future together.

If Nick stayed with him, she would risk leading the holy freaks to him. She'd rather never see him again than know she had helped put him back in some bricked-up room to die.

She didn't owe Gabriel anything, either. On the contrary.

Nick felt a little better as she climbed onto the bike. She'd done right by him; no one could say that she hadn't. She'd taken care of him, gotten him to his friend, and now she could take off and know he'd be all right. Being blind, he couldn't help her find the Golden Madonna. He'd only slow her down. He belonged with better people, people like Croft. All she'd do was get him arrested. The holy freaks knew how to use the cops to get what they wanted; they were experts at it.

Gabriel deserved better. He'd get back together with the Kyn, and she could go on with her life. She'd pack up her stuff at the farm and move north. She liked Scotland; maybe she'd try spending the winter in the Highlands. Once the cops lost interest she'd make some other changes and start fresh on her search for the Madonna in the spring.

She got as far as Hyde Park before she had to pull into a parking space and jump off the bike. Her chest heaved with the pain of breathing in cold, damp English air. This was going to kill her, leaving him like this, without knowing, without a word. Would he ever forgive her?

The Kyn had abandoned him, his sister had betrayed him, and now she was dumping him. He'd been lost for so long, just like her. How would he feel when he realized she wasn't coming back for him?

He'll hate you forever.

Oh, God. What was she doing?

"I'll go back." She checked her watch and saw she still had ten minutes before he would expect her to return. "I'll ride by one time and look in the window and make sure he's okay. But after that I have to head out of town and forget about him."

Well, she'd head out of town, anyway.

Nick turned around and drove back toward Croft's shop. She couldn't ride by, she realized; Gabriel would hear the bike. She'd have to find a spot by the corner and take a look from there.

One look and that's all. Nick knew that if she did any more than look, she'd never be able to leave him.

The south corner of the intersection nearest Croft's shop had a phone box that gave her some cover while allowing her to see the front of the shop. Croft had rolled up the blinds in the big front window, probably so he could watch for her.

But she wasn't going back.

Nick eyed the telephone. Maybe she would call and tell Croft she was taking off and leaving Gabriel with him. Just so he knew and didn't wait there for her for hours or think something had happened to her. Croft wouldn't hate her for it. Not if she told him how much she loved Gabriel, and how dangerous she was to him.

This is why you don't get involved with anyone, she told herself viciously. Because you don't know how to walk away.

A book hit the inside of the shop window and slid down it to knock over Croft's artful front display. Nick frowned and reached into her jacket, taking out her binoculars. Through them she clearly saw three strange men standing inside the front of the shop. Two of them were holding Croft by the arms. The third had Gabriel by the front of his shirt.

The Kyn couldn't have gotten there that fast.

As she watched, the man holding Gabriel punched him in the face.

Rage exploded inside her. "Oh, fuck this."

Nick pulled down her visor, grabbed her bat from the back of the bike, and rounded the corner, cutting off a Jag and darting between a delivery van and a cab. She jumped the curb, scattering shoppers as she sped toward the front of the bookshop. At the last moment she locked up the brakes and let the bike skid sideways, slamming the rear tire into the display window.

Glass smashed and rained down on her as she put the bike in park and jumped off, using the bat to knock out the last jagged section of glass before climbing into the shop.

"Hey, asshole."

The man who had punched Gabriel stared at her in shock. He had a gun tucked in his belt.

"Yeah, you." She swung the bat at his head, and knocked him back into a collection of Victorian poetry. "Home run."

The other two rushed at her, guns in their hands, but she shoved the bat into the belly of one and clipped the other in the jaw with the grip. Both tottered backward, but not far enough to miss her third and fourth swings.

She saw that Croft was braced against his desk but unhurt. "Sorry about the window."

"My dear girl," he breathed. "Do not apologize." He hurried over and collected the guns the two men had dropped and the one still tucked in the belt of the third. "Guns are illegal in this country," he told the groaning men. "So is pummeling innocent vampires."

Nick went to Gabriel. "Let's get out of here." She took his arm and dragged him through the window.