Topaz had a Benz and a Land Rover in her extensive garage. Roxy's van, Shirley, had joined them, as had Seth's Shelby and Jack's Carrera. The van was gone now. The note Roxy had left said that she and her team had decided to drive west to join the others in case the van with all its special features and equipment was needed. The other two teams had flown to their respective destinations.

Reaper missed his car, which had been annihilated by fire when one of Gregor's drones drove a tanker truck full of gasoline into it. That had only been a few weeks ago, though it seemed much longer.

He had no vehicle now. Shopping for one would be the first thing on his list, once Gregor was destroyed. It seemed as if this job was taking forever.

The Mercedes was a bloodred SL500, a hot car, but Reaper tempered his testosterone with a hefty dose of practicality and chose the Land Rover. It would be a lot more efficient if the terrain turned rough. God only knew how wild a chase Crisa would lead them on, though he couldn't imagine it would be very difficult or take very long to track her down.

Then again, he'd expected killing Gregor to be a fairly simple mission, too, and look how that had turned out.

"We'll take this one," he said, opening the Land Rover's rear door and tossing his bag inside. He'd packed clothes, flashlights, a pair of tranquilizer guns with a few darts and not much else.

Briar's bag looked even lighter than his own. She slung it into the back without a word, then yanked open the passenger door and got in.

Reaper took his place behind the wheel and backed the vehicle out of the garage.

"You're going to have to guide me," he told her as he turned the car so its nose pointed toward the road, then headed down the drive and through the gates at the end. The headlights were bright and cut through the darkness, though he didn't need them to see, even on the blackest of nights.

"North," Briar said softly. "She went north."

He turned right. "She must have talked that mortal into giving her a ride off the island. They'll have to take the bridge."

Briar scanned the roadside as they passed. Shops, diners, one or two places to get gas and basics, lined the island's main road.

The ocean was visible on either side, and there were several thickly wooded areas along the way.

"I wonder what they do when there's a hurricane here?" she mused as she sensed the night for signs of Crisa.

"Evacuate, I think."

"I wouldn't like that."

" You wouldn't leave."

She looked at him sharply. "What makes you think so?"

"You're stubborn. You're tough. You're mean. You don't like to be inconvenienced. You'd take it personally, as if the storm threatening your home were a deliberate and pre-meditated attack against you, and you'd want to fight back." Reaper shrugged. "Since you don't particularly care if you live or die, you'd have no reason not to."

She blinked at his words. "You think you know me pretty well, don't you?"

"I was describing what I would do," he said. "I have a feeling you'd react the same way."

He waited, and when she didn't answer, he pressed, "Am I right?"

"No, because I'd never live here. It's not my style."

"What is your style, Briar?"

She shrugged. "An alley. A park bench. Gregor's dungeon."

"Those aren't real answers."

"Whatever." She sighed, and sat up straighter in her seat. "She's moving faster now."

Reaper shot her a look, read the panic on her face, saw the way her eyes focused on nothing. Her gaze seemed to turn inward, and he knew her sense of Crisa was more powerful than his own could ever be.

"What, Briar? What are you getting?"

She blinked rapidly, seeming to draw herself back all at once, and then she shot him a desperate look. "She's getting farther and farther away."

"They must be off the island. Probably on the highway, without the speed limits there are here."

"Fuck the speed limits, Reaper. Can't this thing go any faster?"

He pressed down harder on the accelerator, passed a slow-moving hatchback. "I don't want some cop pulling us over."

"Then don't stop if one tries."

Yeah, that would be just brilliant, he thought, imagining a high-speed chase with a barricade of flashing lights and sirens eventually blocking their path. Helicopters and news crews. "We need to stay under the radar," he told her. "Not draw attention to ourselves."

Staring ahead, she lifted her chin. "They're still heading north."

"Then that's where we'll go."

Briar's gaze seemed to sharpen, her attention coming more fully back to the present. She stared at him. "Tell me again why you came with me instead of going out to follow up on one of those leads on Gregor?"

"I already told you. Twice, if we're keeping count. Crisa's more important to me than catching Gregor."

"Crisa's only been with us a few days."

He tipped his head to one side. "You saying she's not more important to you, as well?"

She didn't answer, just crossed her arms over her chest and ignored his question.

"She's an innocent," he said. "She would be more important even if she'd only been with us for a few minutes, Briar."

"Pssh."

It was a sound loaded with sarcasm. "What?" he asked.

"Oh, come on, Reaper. Tell the truth. The whole truth, for once."

He slid his gaze her way, but only briefly. They were hitting the bridge now, and he had to pay attention to his driving. "That is the truth. But you're right, it's not the entire truth." He swallowed hard, turned to look at her once again. "There's you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Crisa's important to you, whether you'll admit it or not. She's managed to touch a part of you that none of us could. And you're important to me, even though I don't have a clue why. I think she's good for you. I think you two need each other. So I want her back for your sake."

She nodded slowly and didn't ridicule his confession, as he'd half expected she would. Maybe she appreciated the honesty.

Hell, he didn't know.

"Why am I important to you?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you. Although, when I spoke to Rhiannon last night-"

"You spoke to Rhiannon?" She was clearly surprised. "Why?"

He frowned. "You asked me to try to contact Eric Marquand, to ask for his help. Rhiannon knows how to reach him."

Again her gaze turned intense, focused inwardly as she digested that.

"Are you surprised that I did what you asked me to?"

Turning toward him just slightly, she said, "I guess I am.

"It was a good idea, Briar. A really good idea."

She nodded, not thanking him for the compliment. "So what did she say?"

"She said she had a message for me. She didn't know what it meant, but she knew it was the answer to a question I had. And that answer was, 'Because you think you can't hurt her.'"

Her heavy lids flew upward. "And what was the question?"

"The only one I'd asked recently was the same one you asked me before we went to bed this morning. Why did I want you?"

He shrugged.

"So you think you're attracted to me because you think you can't hurt me?"

"Maybe."

"Were you ever attracted to someone you... did hurt, then?"

He was silent for a long moment, battling the tide of memories that tried to rise within his mind. When he thought he had it dammed, he said, "Yeah. I did."

She turned to face him fully, one leg drawn up on the seat between them, knee bent. "Will you tell me about her?"

He slanted her a sideways glance and spoke without hesitation or forethought. He said the words to her that he'd never said to another person, confessed what had never been confessed.

"Her name was Rebecca," he said. "I loved her. And then I killed her."

"You comfortable, kid?"

Derry asked the question even as he tossed Matt an extra pillow. Matt took it, tucked it on top of the one beneath his head, and relaxed on the bed in the skeevy motel where Derry had booked them a room.

"Sure. But I'll never sleep."

"Why not? You still hungry?"

"How could I be, after the tacos and the pizza and the shakes?" Matt rolled his eyes. "I'm just not used to sleeping at night, is all."

"Oh." Derry sighed, nodding as if he understood, though Matt wasn't sure he could. For a whole year now, Matt had been living on his father's schedule. Sleeping days, living only by night. Today was the first day he'd been out in the sunshine for what seemed like ages. He'd enjoyed it, even once he'd figured out that he was more or less Derry's hostage. The guy was good to him. And it wasn't like he'd ever have much of a chance to hurt him. His father was going to tear this guy apart when he caught him. And he would. Matt just hoped to be long gone by then.

It was a shame. Derry seemed like a decent guy, except for being willing to kill him and all. After all, he hadn't liked the idea, when it crept into his mind. He really hoped he wouldn't have to do it. Matt knew that for sure.

"You've been up all day," the soon-to-be-dead man said. "Maybe you'll sleep better than you think."

"Maybe. Can I leave the TV on?"

"Sure. Listen, um...don't try to run off on me while I'm asleep, okay?"

"Shoot, where would I go?"

"Back to your father, I imagine. Just...just don't. Promise me, okay?"

Matt took a deep breath and sighed. Then shook his head.

"Why not?" Derry asked.

"'Cause I'm wondering if you're thinking about killing me unless my father does what you say. I'd be pretty stupid to stick around here, wouldn't I?"

Looking stunned, Derry sank onto the mattress. "What makes you think I'd kill you, Matt? Have I done anythin' to even hurt you up to now?"

"No."

"And I'm not gonna hurt you, kid. I want to get you back to your mother."

"Yeah, so you said. That would be a really good way to keep me from running off, though, wouldn't it? Telling me my mom's alive, and that you can help me find her?"

"I didn't lie about that."

"Yeah. Sure." Matt drew a breath, because his senses told him it was the truth. But he wanted to believe it so badly, maybe his senses were off. "If I learned anything from my father, it's that you just don't trust anyone. Not anyone. Not when you're like us."

"Us?" Derry was puzzled, Matt could feel it in him. "You're not like your father, Matt. You're not a vampire."

Matt decided it wouldn't be smart to tell Derry that he would be one someday. His father had told him it was inevitable; that when he got older, it would be either that or death, and his father had no intention of letting him die. He'd said he would change Matt himself, just as soon as Matt was a grown man, just as soon as he was at his strongest, at his peak. That was how his father had put it. He said he wouldn't wait for Matt to get sick and weak. He would change him while he was young and strong.

But not until he was a man.

Matt decided it wouldn't be smart to tell Derry any of that. So instead he just told him, "It doesn't matter. My father's gonna kill you for taking me. If you were smart, you'd ditch me somewhere and run as far and as fast as you can. 'Cause he's not gonna be happy when he finds you."

"Her name was Rebecca," Reaper said softly as Briar noted the shift in his tone. The intensity in his voice. The torture in his eyes. "I loved her. And then I killed her."

She stared at him for a long moment, part of her dying to ask him more-who was this Rebecca? How had he killed her? But she didn't. Because that would suggest she was interested, when, in fact, she really didn't care. Besides, his face had taken on a closed-off expression, as if he regretted saying as much as he had.

"You want to tell me about it?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"I just did."

Message received, she thought.

Briar turned on the radio, found a driving rock song and cranked it up loud, partly to irritate Reaper and partly to distract herself. She wasn't the type to worry about anyone else. But she kept imagining the sorts of trouble Crisa could get into all on her own. And even with the music, those images wouldn't leave her alone.

Reaper reached out and turned the volume down. "I may not be tuned in to Crisa. But I am tuned in to you."

"Oh, this ought to be good."

"You're worried about her."

She rolled her eyes, shook her head, thought about turning the music up again. Then she said, "Who the hell knows what kind of a guy that was, anyway? The one she's riding with, I mean."

Reaper tilted his head and studied her for a second. "I prefer to think he's the kind of guy who sees a girl in trouble and wants to help."

"More likely the kind who sees a girl in trouble and thinks he can take advantage of the situation. Maybe get laid. And maybe he's not too particular about whether she wants it or not."

"Most men aren't like that, Briar."

"A lot you know."

He frowned, so she turned away, gazing out the window at the passing night. "Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Virginia. We'll be in Maryland soon, though."

"Fucking Maryland. Where the hell is she going?"

He ignored her question and asked, "Most of the men you've known have been...like that, haven't they, Briar?"

"Don't start analyzing me, Reaper. Don't even think I'll put up with that crap."

"Okay." He sighed, turning his attention back to the road. But he thought he knew something. He thought he'd glimpsed one of her inner demons, and it pissed her off to no end.

"She's going after that boy she keeps seeing in her head," Briar said, to distract him as well as herself. "What the hell do you suppose that's all about, anyway?"

"Damned if I know." He thought about it as he continued driving. "You think he could be real? Not just some kind of delusion or part of whatever's... wrong with her?"

She lifted her brows. "She seems to think so."

"What if she's right?"

"That's not very likely, is it? She's freaking batshit, Reaper."

"Yeah, but she's also a vampire. So let's just say he's real, for the sake of argument. If that's the case, he's almost certainly one of the Chosen. And probably the one, for Crisa."

" The one?" Briar asked.

"We all feel compelled to protect mortals with the Belladonna antigen. Those rare few who can become what we are. You know that," he told her. "But for each of us there is one with whom that connection is more powerful than with any other. You know that, as well."

She nodded slowly.

"So what if this boy is that one for Crisa? What if he really is in some kind of trouble, and she really is needed?"

"What good could she possibly do?" Briar asked. "She can barely take care of herself."

"And yet if we stop her from going to him, we could be interfering in something we have no right to interfere with. We could be costing this kid his life."

Briar blinked, not liking where this conversation was going.

"Maybe we shouldn't try to take her back once we catch up to her," Reaper suggested. "Maybe we should go with her, instead.

See if this kid is for real, back her up in case she needs us."

She glanced at him. "You really think this could be some real person and not just a figment of her imagination?"

"I think there's a chance, yeah."

She sat still, looking at her hands in her lap and not wanting him to be right. "If one of the Chosen really was in trouble, wouldn't we both be sensing it, as well?" she asked.

"We would, when we were close enough. But this kid is apparently several states away."

She frowned suddenly, and smacked her palm hard against Reaper's shoulder. "Stop! Pull over! Something's happening." Her eyes were dimming, her vision closing in from the sides as the brutal throbbing deep inside her head began all over again. Not her pain. Not hers at all, but Crisa's; she knew that now.

Reaper did as she asked, pulling onto the shoulder near an exit ramp. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Briar opened the door and got out, wandering, hands out in front of her, nearly blind now, because the little boy's face was in her mind. His thoughts wove clearly through her psyche, just as they did through Crisa's.

I think this guy might decide to kill me. It's a shame, too, 'cause he seems nice. But he'll do whatever it takes.

And then she felt panic, and she knew that it, too, belonged to Crisa. The boy was calm. Thinking about his own murder as coolly as if he were thinking about the chance it might rain.

Briar was moving, walking, feeling for Crisa.

In the distance, she could hear Reaper calling her name, his voice urgent. And then she could feel him gripping her shoulders, holding her as she tried to pull free.

"Briar!" Has hand came across her face, the sting just sharp enough to pull her back into herself. The voices faded, and the feeling of panic along with them, but she still felt Crisa's pain.

Blinking her eyes clear, she lifted her head to see that Reaper was standing in front of her, hands on her shoulders, eyes staring into hers. On the highway just beyond him, traffic blew past. Vehicles in every one of the three lanes, speeding along at eighty miles per hour and raising a breeze that whipped her hair.

"Are you all right?" Reaper asked, and from his tone she gathered that he'd repeated the question more than once already.

Staring at him through wide eyes, she shook her head. "No. Wh-what...?"

"You jumped out of the car and started wandering. I thought you were going to walk right out into traffic. What the hell happened?"

She looked at where the Land Rover was parked near the exit ramp, then saw that she was standing in the small triangle of grass between the exit lane curving off to the right and where the main highway stretched ever forward.

"This is where they turned off," she said, pressing a hand to the top of her head, as if she could soothe the throbbing pain that way, then moved toward the sign until she could read it. Baltimore. Then she turned back again, and bent down, hands to the grass. "She got out for a minute. She thought the ride was over, but then she got back in and went with him again."

"So she's going to Baltimore, then? That must be where the boy is," Reaper mused. "But if so, I wonder why we aren't sensing him yet?"

"No." Briar shook her head. "No, that's not where she's going. North, she keeps thinking. Farther north." She looked at the sky. "How long before sunrise?"

Reaper looked at his watch. "About an hour."

Briar nodded firmly. The motion hurt, and she stopped, wincing, and rubbed her aching temples. "She's more capable than I gave her credit for, then. She stayed with him so she could find a place to rest for the day. She'd intended to let him go on his way-to Baltimore. Yes. And she was going to try to find another ride to take her farther. Closer to...Byram."

"Byram?" Reaper asked.

Briar shrugged and massaged the back of her neck in an effort to relieve the pulsing pain in her head. "Must be the boy's name.

Anyway, she realized it was too close to dawn, so she decided to ride into the nearest city with the redneck and find a place to rest."

"And you know all that...how?" Reaper asked.

She shifted her gaze to meet and hold his. "My blood is in her veins. Part of me is traveling with her. Part of me has become her. I feel everything she feels right now."

"Including her pain."

" Especially her pain."

Reaper slid his hand to the back of her neck, alternately squeezing and then relaxing his grip, and she would have shaken him off, except that it felt so good. She was in pain. She would take any relief she could get.

"We should find a place to rest ourselves," he said. "Might as well take the same exit, stay as close to her as we can."

He opened the passenger door and held it as Briar climbed back in. In a minute they were moving again, taking the same exit Crisa had.

He drove until he saw series of chain hotels, then pulled into the parking lot of the first one they came to.

"She's not here," Briar said.

"No, but we are."

"We still have time," she argued. "We could follow my sense of her a little farther and-"

"She's going to head right back to the highway in the morning, Briar. You said yourself, she wants to keep going north."

Sighing, she lowered her head in defeat.

"Let's get settled in. We'll use the extra time to check in with the others, see if any of those leads on Gregor have panned out, and get the room secured against sunlight. Okay?"

She wasn't having an easy time being patient. But then again, when had she? "Okay. And then... may be you can tell me the rest of that story you started earlier."

"What story would that be, Briar?"

"The one about the woman you say you loved and killed. Rebecca, wasn't it?"

He averted his eyes, getting out of the car. She got out, too, and they walked toward the entrance. Every click of her shoes on the sidewalk was like a tiny nail spiking into her brain.

"I don't talk about that," he said.

"Oh, come on. You know you want to. I'll tell you about one of my kills, if you want."

He slanted her a sideways look. "I really don't want to hear about you murdering the innocent, Briar."

"Oh, hell, none of them are innocent." She sighed and shrugged, and as they entered the hotel lobby, she went on, speaking mentally now instead of aloud. Fine, we won. I'll exchange kill stories, then. I'll give you something else in exchange for you telling me about Rebecca.

What?

Sex.

He swung his head toward her so fast the motion drew notice from the desk clerks and a couple relaxing in one of the overstuffed chairs in the lobby seating area. It had been almost unnatural, that movement. Especially since none of the onlookers had heard a word of the exchange.

She smiled slowly, in spite of her throbbing headache. You want it, don't you?

He just held her gaze, then turned, stepped up to the desk and said, "We need a room."

"Check in time isn't until-"

"We'll pay extra. Just check us in now."

"All right, sir. Would you like a king or two doubles?"

"King," he said, glancing at Briar once more. "One bed."

"Two beds," she corrected, then added silently to Reaper alone, I said I'd fuck you, not sleep with you. She sent him a sexy wink, then looked away and tried not to feel her stomach tightening in need and delicious anticipation.

But she felt it anyway.