Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

O nce again they were all seated around the library.

Well, not all of them, for poor Tanya was dead and the real Jon Vadim was—to Carly—conspicuously missing.

It was pathetic. Poor Tanya had been found like the victims before her. So far the police were convinced that she'd been killed where she'd been found, in the Carpathian caves deep in the forest.

On Vadim property.

Carly watched Dustin where he sat behind the desk, impressive in a muted tweed plaid, a duster tossed carelessly around his shoulders as if he planned to go out or had been called in from the cold.

Carly felt ill. She wished she hadn't had to confront him here first, in front of the inspector. She'd wanted to scream at him, wanted to pound against his chest.

Every time she looked at him she accused him with her eyes. Where were you last night? Did you disappear in time to commit murder and then return? How could you? Oh, God, poor Tanya!...

And yesterday, when Jasmine had been attacked, he had been in the stables. He had been there, and he had disappeared last night. No, she had to believe in him. As blindly, as loyally as Jasmine believed in the real Jon.

But the real Jon had probably lain with her all night. She had not awakened with dawn's first light to see that he had returned to her, after he'd left by the light of the moon.

The full moon.

Nervous, she jumped to her feet, heedless of what the inspector was saying. It was probably the same old thing. Where were you? What did you do? What happened? They had all gone to bed! It was the simplest damn answer in the world, yet sometime after they had all retired for the night, Tanya had come out of her room again and someone had gone with her for a walk in the woods.

"I don't understand this!" Carly cried. All eyes turned to her. The inspector, so rudely interrupted, cleared his throat. Carly ignored him. "People keep dying, and nothing is done! Don't you have forensic experts? Can't you compare hair or blood samples, or fibers, or—"

"We do try, Madame Kiernan. We do try," the inspector interrupted her coldly. He gave her an acid smile. "In fact, Madame, we have a young American on our staff, so I'm sure that we are as up-to-date as we can be. But sometimes there are no hairs and no fibers. Sometimes the victims die as quickly as if a wolf had leaped out of the forest and stolen their breath away. Then there are the elements, madame . Evidence is lost in the mist that plagues us by twilight and at dawn. Perhaps you have some suggestion."

Dustin made an aggravated sound, as if he were about to protest the inspector's tone. But Carly didn't need to be defended. She set her hands firmly on her hips. " Oui, monsieur , I do. Protection. Everyone believed something would happen last night, and it did."

Geoffrey let out a pained sound. "You should have had your eye on the castle!" Carly told the inspector.

Now the inspector seemed pained. "We were watching the castle," he admitted.

"Then?"

He shrugged. "I do not know." He gazed Dustin's way. "But it seems that the count had an alibi for his time."

"Yes, he was with me," Jasmine said. Carly colored and turned toward Jasmine, for the same words had almost left her own mouth. Jasmine instantly realized her mistake, but it was too late; the inspector was already sniffing as if he smelled something sour—a lie.

"Well, we were all together for quite some time," Jasmine said defensively.

Alexi snorted. "I'd like to hear this."

Carly didn't know whether he had been there all night or had been summoned by the inspector. She turned to face him. "Alexi, you should know something about Tanya's nightly habits."

"What?" His handsome young face flooded with color. He crossed and uncrossed his legs.

"You were visiting her at night."

"What's this?" the inspector demanded.

"Carly." Dustin cleared his throat and rose. "Carly, be careful. You're making wild accusations."

No, she wasn't. If Dustin wasn't guilty, then Alexi was. And she desperately wanted Alexi to be guilty. "You were meeting Tanya in her room at night."

All eyes were on Alexi. He shook his head fervently. "I was having an affair with her! I would never hurt her. I was mad about Tanya. I'm the only one here who is really injured by her death. I cared for her!"

"She was wild and impetuous and often cruel," the inspector said. "Maybe she scorned you. Maybe you killed her for that reason."

"Don't be ridiculous! Jon is the one who—" He broke off.

Carly saw that Dustin tensed and rose to come around his desk.

"Go on, Alexi. I'm waiting. Jon what? I'd like to hear the rest."

Alexi shook his head and hung it down. "Nothing. Rien. There is nothing at all." He turned back to his seat, dejected. Heavy silence fell on the room.

And then the inspector turned slowly to Dustin. "Count, I will have to ask you to come with me."

Carly gasped. Jasmine leaped to her feet. Dustin stiffened, and it took Geoffrey, quiet until now, to offer a protest. "I say there, old boy, you can't do that. You have no proof whatsoever against Count Vadim, and you can't go dragging him off like that on idle suspicion."

"Count?" the inspector said, ignoring Geoffrey. "You will come with me to the station, please. I have a few more questions."

Dustin hesitated. "Of course."

The inspector turned to the others. "I may want to speak to you all again, later. Please—"

" Mais oui , don't leave the village," Alexi said bitterly.

"Non, monsieur," the inspector replied dryly. "Do not leave the castle. Vous comprenez? "

No one replied. The inspector rose and Dustin followed, stopping before Carly.

"Count Vadim?" the inspector said again.

Dustin's eyes were on her, golden, glowing. They were the eyes of the wolf, challenging her, searing into her with their glowing fire.

"Un moment, s'il vous pla?t," he said quietly. He turned around, facing the inspector. "I want a minute alone. If you will all excuse me?"

Carly was aware of a startled silence, then realized that they were all leaving. She was left alone with Dustin and with the sudden distance that had arisen between them. A distance created by the night, when the man she loved had disappeared with the silence and grace of the silver wolf.

She had slept with him night after night, she reminded herself. She had found rapture in his arms, tenderness and love and laughter. She had found passion as swift and sure as spreading brushfire, and she had found a man who was sensitive to her every mood.

Now she faced him with fear and suspicion creating an unbridgeable distance between them.

She heard the door close softly. They were alone.

"Where did you go?" she demanded, her eyes on his. She kept her voice low. "Last night, you were gone so long. And there was mud on your slippers. Where did you go?"

He smiled—or, rather, his lip curled—and his eyes grew cold. "I went for champagne."

"And muddied your slippers?"

He didn't answer her. He kept his eyes on her, and shrugged. "You believe that I did it. That I sneaked out of the house, found Tanya and murdered her."

She shook her head in denial. "I—I don't know what I believe."

"But you didn't say anything to the inspector."

Carly hesitated. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to reach out and fall into his arms, and then she wanted him to give her a foolproof and marvelous explanation of where he had been.

And why there was mud on his slippers.

"Dustin—"

"I came down for champagne, Carly. I stepped outside for a minute. That's all."

He didn't touch her, and he had no valid explanation. She waited. He set his jaw and said no more.

There was a rapping at the door. "Count Vadim!" the inspector called. "Time is relevant. Please come along."

Then Dustin did touch her. He seized her and drew her against him. "Take care! For the love of God, take care today. Be with someone you trust. Stay near Jasmine. Make sure that you are seen. Do you understand me?"

He shook her, and she nodded, telling herself he couldn't be so vehement and also be guilty of the crimes.

He kissed her, suddenly, savagely. He released her just as the door opened and the inspector stuck his head in. "Count?"

Dustin stepped back. Carly put her hand to her mouth. Dustin turned, and as she watched his broad-shouldered back disappear, she thought with a sick feeling that the inspector had condemned him—he was, in that man's eyes at least, guilty beyond a doubt.

Alone in the library, Carly was forced to make an admission to herself. According to her book, he should be guilty. He'd been gone last night. He'd had the time.

And he had been in the stables when Jasmine had screamed....

She swallowed, then decided that she could clear him if she could just get someone to tell her that Dustin hadn't been there last Halloween, when the first murder had taken place.

She stepped out of the library. The hallway was empty.

"Carly!" It was Alexi calling to her.

She turned around, then shook her head and walked away, her heart pounding. She didn't want to talk to him. He was the one who'd always been talking about werewolves and lunacy and madness. It had to be him, because it could not be Dustin.

"Carly!"

He was following her. Panic seized her. She spun around. "No, Alexi! Leave me alone!"

She turned and fled. As fast as she could, she headed for the stairs and raced up them. When she reached the landing, she ran straight into Geoffrey.

"Geoffrey!" she said.

He caught her and steadied her, smiling. "Sorry. I was just on the phone. Calling home. A bit of a problem, you know."

She nodded.

"Don't be upset," he told her. "They can't hold Jon long."

"What?" she murmured vaguely. His use of the name Jon startled her, for she knew that it was Dustin and not Jon Vadim who had just left with the inspector.

"I said don't worry—they have no proof. They can't hold Jon without proof of some kind."

She looked at Geoffrey and smiled. She had to know the truth about the previous year. "Geoffrey, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot. Oh, bad choice of a word. Well, not that anyone has been shot, but—"

"Geoffrey, please, it doesn't matter. What I wanted to know about was last year. Last Halloween. Who was here?"

"For last year's party? Oh, well, lots of people. The McCorkindales, Lord and Lady Ashberry, the duke himself, and the duchess, of course, and then there was the American toilet paper manufacturer and—"

"No, no, I'm sorry. I don't mean the casual guests. I mean, who was here, like this year? The closer friends. You were here, right? And Tanya and Jon, of course, and—"

She broke off. She could hear Alexi calling her name again, from below.

Her blood seemed to chill and congeal. She wanted Alexi to be a murderer, she realized. And yet she had to hear the truth about Dustin.

Geoffrey stared at her kindly as if he understood her dilemma. He winked. "Let's dodge the man, shall we? Come. Let's hurry along."

He took her arm, and she offered him a grateful smile. They rushed along the hallway, passing the telephone niche, then Jon Vadim's room. Carly heard soft words in her sister's voice. She glanced quickly at Geoffrey, but he apparently hadn't noticed.

The real Jon Vadim was in that room, she thought, with her sister. Who was to say that the real Jon was not guilty?

The real Jon had been with Jasmine last night. Unless Jasmine had lied to Carly and herself and Jon Vadim had disappeared beneath the moonlight, just like Dustin Vadim.

It ran in the family. Lunacy ran in the family. That was what Alexi had told her.

And Alexi could have been lying.

"In here," Geoffrey said, opening the door to his room. It was large and overlooked the forest, rather than the courtyard. It was a beautiful view. The draperies were open, and Carly could see all the way down the mountain to the chimneys and spires of the houses and churches in the village.

"How lovely!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, so much beauty, and so much discord."

Carly sobered and turned around. Geoffrey smiled and extended a hand toward two wicker chairs that stood before a table where he had pieces of manuscripts laid out. "I've been working, as you can see. And, of course, I know that you've been working, too. A good way to spend time." He shrugged. "Well, have a seat. Where were we? You were asking me something."

Carly sat down at the table, and he took the second chair. He folded his hands prayer-fashion and grinned a little sadly. "What was it you were asking?"

Carly leaned forward, wetting her lips. "Who else was here? Someone who might have been here now, too."

Geoffrey thought about it for a minute. He shrugged. "No one."

"No one?" A wave of relief rolled over her. Dustin couldn't be the one.... He hadn't been here a year ago, so he couldn't have killed the first girl on that Halloween.

"Are you...sure?"

"Of course. People who are here now were here then. There were Jon and I and Alexi. And Jasmine—she is here now. Tanya," he whispered. "Tanya was here."

"No one else."

"Oh, well, the same as now, no." He frowned pensively for a moment. "Dustin was here last year. But of course, he isn't here now."

"Dustin?" She spoke in barely a whisper. She felt ill. She wondered if Jon had summoned the very demon who had cast suspicion on him.

Dear God, no! If she loved a man so deeply, she had to believe in him.

His slippers had been wet and muddy. He had been gone so long. He had been in the stables, and now...

He had been here last year, as well.

"What's the matter?" Geoffrey inquired quietly.

She shook her head, knowing she was probably white as a sheet.

"Dustin is Jon's cousin. An English fellow. You'll meet him somewhere along the line, I suppose."

"I suppose." She stood up. She had to be alone. "Thanks, Geoffrey."

"Whatever for?"

"The answers...the company."

"Don't worry. They'll let old Jon out soon enough." He laughed. "Then you and Jasmine will have to fight over the poor boy." He sighed. "Tanya, bless her soul, will be out of it."

Carly nodded. She still couldn't believe that Tanya wouldn't waltz in on them with her beautiful feline sway. She shivered, and the truth of it hit her. Tanya was dead. She'd been kind to Carly, and Carly had gotten to know her as a friend. Now she was gone, and so tragically.

"Thanks, Geoffrey," she murmured.

He smiled and waved. She stepped out into the hallway and started toward her own room. As she passed the telephone alcove, Alexi suddenly stepped out to grab her.

"Carly! I've been trying to reach you—"

"Let go of me!" She jerked violently, freeing herself. His lip began to curl into a slow, crooked smile. An evil smile, she thought, sadistic and wicked. "I've been looking for you, trying to talk to you—"

"Leave me alone!"

"But I can show you—"

Carly spun around, backing away from him. "Alexi, I know you went to her again and again. You knew Tanya better than any of us."

"Carly, don't run!"

She kept walking away. She wanted to reach her room. She wanted to slam the door and lock it.

"Carly, I can tell you things."

"I don't want to hear them!"

"I will come after you if you don't listen! I'll break the door down! You have to understand!"

She was suddenly certain that he wanted her to understand what it was that drove him. It was the things that the full, glowing moon could do to the human psyche and to the animal within the human breast....

She was getting hysterical, she told herself. She didn't know what she was doing or where to turn anymore.

She loved Dustin, and yet she just didn't know. He'd been here. So many things suggested that he might be guilty.

"Carly—"

Alexi was staring at her. She clapped her hands over her ears. "No! No! I do not want to hear any more!"

She turned and sped toward her room. She didn't care that he knew that she was running. She entered into her room and slammed the door. She leaned against it, gasping for breath. Moments passed, and her breathing at last began to ease.

"Carly!" It was Alexi. His voice was rasping and sounded funny. He was trying to be very quiet.

"Carly, let me in. I'll break the door down."

She didn't respond. Then she felt the door shudder behind her.

Dustin had already broken the door in once. It would be easy for someone else now.

She stood there in panic and felt it shudder again. In another few seconds the door would burst open and she would be trapped. She had to do something.

She looked across the room to the secret paneling. She was wearing jeans and sneakers and a sweater, and she was ready for a rapid and desperate escape. She was far better dressed for traversing the secret passage now than she had been two weeks ago.

The door shuddered a third time.

Carly didn't wait any longer. She bolted across the room and began to search for the spring button. Panic welled up in her as she heard the door shudder yet again.

"Carly..."

"Please, please, please!..." she prayed. At last she found it, and the panel slid open, allowing her access to the passageway beyond. She slipped in and started down the corridor, just as she heard the door to her room give.

She tried to hurry. The corridor was dark, for the daylight didn't seem to be filtering in at all. What entered was mist. It was eerie and frightening. She could hear her own footfalls and the sound of her breath and the beat of her heart....

Suddenly she stood still. She could hear something else. Someone was behind her. Someone was following her. Alexi?

Alexi...or whoever had whispered to her, whoever had broken into her room.

Following her and moving far more quickly than she was able to move.

She wouldn't be able to get far. She came to the steps that led down and paused, just for a heartbeat.

Someone was coming fast.

She started down the steps, trying to be silent. The light was still dim; the winding stairs were treacherous. She missed her footing and almost fell, and gasped as she clung to the cold stone wall.

She stood still.

And heard whoever was pursuing her pause and listen. She prayed silently.

It was no good. She heard the footsteps behind her coming down the stairs.

She gave a horrified cry, no longer concerned about making noise.

At the landing she came to a dead end—a locked door. Desperate, frantic, she clawed at the bolt.

The steps came after her, then actually slowed and came on at a far more leisurely pace.

"Carly..."

She tugged at the bolt as hard as she could. It creaked and groaned—and gave.

Carly tore outside, into the heavy mist that had fallen. She heard her pursuer swear, and she screamed, rushing forward.

She couldn't see, and didn't know where she was. She could only hope that the man behind her was as blinded by the mist as herself.

She heard a crunch of footsteps on the surface of the courtyard. Coming toward her, homing in unerringly on her position.

"No!" she screamed. He was close, so close she could almost feel him, sense him.

She banged into something. It was a police car, the inspector's car, she realized. He was back.

And that could mean that Dustin was back, that it was Dustin following her, calling her name, relentlessly pursuing her.

"No, please, no!" she whispered again frantically. The car! If she could just get into the car and hide. She tried the door, but it was locked. No one locked a car here. But now, when she was so desperate, the door to the police car was locked, she thought, almost delirious.

The footsteps were still coming. She heard the crunch of the shoes, and it was the stroke of a razor blade down her spine. Closer, closer.

"Help!" she screamed as loudly as she could. She'd given her position away, she knew. She had to move, though she had no idea of where she was or in which direction she should be moving. She screamed again and ran. Something loomed in front of her in the mist. She had reached the stables. Gasping, she inched her way along the wall until she came to the door. She paused, listening, and her heart seemed to cease beating.

Crunch...

She heard it again, the ruthless, merciless sound.

She found the door and wrenched it open. There were lights on here.

They suddenly flickered out, and darkness descended upon her.

"No!" she whispered.

The door jolted closed behind her. Carly ran around, seeking some hiding place. Horses whinnied and snorted, sensing her fear. She hurried along the stalls. She could see nothing, but she could feel the shapes of each stall.

The stable door opened.

Carly lunged into one of the stalls. As silently as she could, she closed the door behind her. She moved around the restless animal and cowered, hunched against the wall, barely daring to breathe.

She heard him. Moving. Walking slowly. Pausing. Walking again.

Then the stall door opened, and a light shone into her face. "Carly..."

A scream rose in her throat. She held up a hand, squinting beyond the light.

It couldn't be! It just couldn't be....

"Yes, Carly. Me..." he said.

She dimly heard the horse whinny and nervously prance out of the way. She didn't have time to move; she barely had time to scream. Then he slammed the flashlight against her head.

* * *

They were still in the process of driving back when Dustin first felt the chill of unease. He didn't know what had brought it on, but it seized hold of him like a vise and didn't let go.

"Can't you hurry?" Dustin demanded.

With Gallic abandon the inspector used hand signals to indicate the fog and the impossibility of seeing the road. "I'm going as fast as I can. What is your sudden hurry?"

Dustin gritted his teeth. "Because we know now!"

Irritably LaRue glanced his way again. "We know! We have no proof. Just because this information came in, it doesn't mean we have proof."

"I'm willing to bet my life," Dustin murmured.

"You still owe me one tremendous explanation," LaRue said.

"Yes," Dustin said uncomfortably. LaRue still didn't know who he was. Or if he had guessed, he hadn't let on. And letting him in on the truth still didn't seem a very prudent thing to do. That would leave both Jon and himself vulnerable.

"We're here," Dustin said. The tension was rising in him unbearably. He tried to calm himself, tried to breathe, but couldn't get the fear to subside.

It was Carly. There was no reason why he should be so afraid for her, yet he was. It was daylight; the murderer chose to strike by night. She wouldn't have been alone, anyway. She would have been with Jasmine and Jon, and nobody could touch all three of them, he was certain. And all the servants were there, too, of course.

The inspector had barely parked before Dustin was jumping out of the car. He looked anxiously through the fog. Knowing the layout of the courtyard and the terrace, he made his way through the fog.

"Attendez-moi!" the inspector puffed, breathless. "Count Vadim!"

He couldn't wait. He felt a growing urgency. He paused, thinking he heard a scream.

The inspector crashed into him. "What? What?" LaRue demanded.

He must have imagined it, Dustin thought. He didn't hear anything else. Then he heard a wolf's cry, a high, plaintive cry, as if the creature was confused by the fog.

"Nothing," Dustin muttered. He rushed on into the house. He burst into the library. It was empty.

"God!" he groaned, his sense of urgency mounting.

"Count—" the inspector said at his heels.

"I can't wait!" Dustin snapped. He raced back through the terrace and up the stairs. He burst into Carly's room and saw that she wasn't there. He tried to calm himself. Of course not. She shouldn't be here, alone; she should be with Jon and Jasmine.

He came back into the hallway just as the inspector reached it. He didn't give any explanations; he hurried on toward his cousin's room. He slammed his fist against the door. Jasmine opened it, staring at him anxiously.

"Where's Carly?" he demanded. He stared from Jasmine to Jon. "Oh, God," he said, feeling sick. "She's not with you."

"She's not in her room?" Jasmine demanded.

He shook his head.

The inspector reached them. He looked from Dustin to Jon, then back to Dustin again. "So, I was right. You are back, Dustin Vadim, and you contacted your cronies because of your secret service connections, yes?"

"Yes, but—"

"I ought to arrest you both!"

"Inspector—"

"I will have an explanation, and a long one!" LaRue insisted.

"But not now! Carly is in grave danger. We must find her! Now, before it is too late!" Dustin exclaimed.

Jasmine burst into tears. Dustin stared at Jon, and together they nodded.

"The cottage!" Dustin said. "Where else would he take her?"

"Wait. Maybe she is with Alexi—" Jon began. But at that moment, Alexi came along the corridor, attracted by the noise and the excitement.

Dustin practically picked him up by the lapels. "Alexi, where is Carly? Have you seen her?"

Alexi shook his head. "I tried to talk to her," he said sulkily. "She locked herself in her room."

Dustin dropped him, turned and raced down the stairway. Outside, he blundered his way through the fog. He tore into the stables and found Satan. Satan knew his way through the fog. LaRue and Jon could follow in the car. Dustin couldn't risk a single second.

* * *

When Carly awoke, she knew she was near a fire for it was very warm.

Her head ached horribly. She strained to open her eyes, then to lift a hand to her head. But she couldn't move her hand. She realized that she was tied to the bunk and that she was so warm because she was naked and the firelight seemed to be touching her body.

He was bent over the fire. He was wearing a black cape and heating a huge, sharp knife in the flames.

He turned suddenly as if he had sensed that she had awakened. She held back a scream, knowing it could do her no good, and prayed desperately that she could reason with him.

They were in the cottage where Dustin had brought her that first night and where they had spent an entire day making love. She had promised here that she would believe in him. And she had betrayed that promise again and again. She had fallen in love with a man but hadn't given him the faith he deserved. The doubts had torn at her.

Now, ironically, she was here again.

Hysteria bubbled within her again. He was looking at her, and she realized that he was staring at her with eyes that glistened with madness.

"It's almost ready," he told her.

"Geoffrey," she murmured, "you don't want to do this. I'm going to make you costumes. I'm..."

"Beautiful costumes, Carly. You're talented. I enjoy you. I enjoyed the others, too. Carly, it is an honor. I am unique among modern men. Death is so often in vain. Not for you, Carly. You will feed the beast in me. Do you understand?"

He wasn't wearing anything beneath the cape, she realized, though he did have gloves on. That's why he could escape detection so easily, she thought. He would burn the cape and the gloves and wash away any blood. He was good. Ironically, he was sane enough to murder his victims carefully.

Now he was going to kill her. He was going to savagely slit her throat and then he was going to drink her blood. And she was tied to a bunk, and there wasn't a thing that she could do about it.

"No!" she cried frantically. She tugged desperately at the ties that bound her. The rope chafed her wrists, but held tight.

She prayed for reason, for her own sanity. "Geoffrey, you can't do this now. It's all wrong. The moon isn't even up. It's daytime. You'll ruin everything."

He smiled and turned the knife blade in the flame. "It's easier when the blade glows. It slips through flesh as if it was butter. Honestly. It's easy, very easy. The first...was messy."

She wondered if she could keep him talking.

For what? she wondered desperately. For how long? Who would learn that she was missing? Who would suspect?...

Instinct made her press on, despite her despair. "You mean last Halloween?"

He glanced at her, startled. "Oh, no. The first was years ago. In Brooklyn." A dreamy, faraway light came in his eyes, dark eyes that were glazed by the fire. "It was in Brooklyn. I first felt the full moon touch me, and then I knew that I was one of them. A man among men. A wolf, more powerful. Immortal. I could live forever. The moon was full, and she was in my arms. A little slut of an ingenue. She wanted a part so badly. I gave her one. But it was messy, very messy. I tried to stay away from the theater after that." He paused, frowning. "I think that there was one more. An actress. Or maybe a lighting technician. I don't remember." He gazed back at the blade. "It's ready. It's hot, and it will kiss your throat gently. You will not feel the savage need when I feed."

She was going to throw up.

What would it matter if she was dead?

Carly's tone was reproachful. "Alexi—Alexi was really crazy about Tanya. And you killed her. How could you?" Geoffrey was walking toward her. The blade glittered in the firelight. Perspiration shone on her body. She wanted to start crying, raggedly, desperately. She had to stop him. She had to do something.

"They'll catch you!" she cried.

"No. I am the wolf. I am immortal."

"No! You want them to think that Jon Vadim is the wolf, but they'll know. They'll know that he did not kill me."

He wasn't even listening anymore. He stared at the knife euphorically, then touched her glistening breast. "It will be quick, my beauty. I promise."

No. It could not be happening. Geoffrey Taylor was a respected American artist who had scores of SRO plays to his credit. It could not be happening—but it was.

He smiled at her. "Quick, and gentle..." he whispered.

She saw the silver glitter of his knife, and a scream tore from her throat.

Then the door burst open, and she saw a blur of sudden motion.

Dustin Vadim came into the room like an offensive tackle, slamming into Geoffrey with a force that sent both men flying off their feet. Carly saw the knife raised high; Geoffrey still held it.

"Dustin! Watch the knife!" she screamed. She worked at her bonds with renewed fury. She heard the scuffle and the thud as the two men fought viciously. Then she heard Dustin swearing; she heard every nuance of his proper British accent growing stronger with his rage.

Then she heard a last, crunching blow and everything was silent. And she felt something soft and warm come over her and she looked up.

Up...into golden eyes, blazing and fierce and beautifully tender.

"Oh, Dustin..." She shivered. He cut her ties.

"Dustin—he killed people in New York."

"I know. When I first began to suspect him, I asked a friend in Manhattan to look into his past. He dug up a few corpses that somehow pointed to Geoffrey Taylor."

"Dustin..."

He was cutting her feet free. "What?" he demanded a little curtly.

"Dustin, I'm so sorry. I didn't trust you. I was afraid. Well, you did disappear, and your slippers were wet."

"Damn right you didn't trust me. My slippers were wet just because I was restless and took a walk outside! I heard sounds coming from the stables and checked it out."

She sat up, clasping the blanket around her, rubbing her wrists. "You saved my life."

"Yeah, fine. But I haven't really forgiven you."

"Dustin—"

"Trust is important in a relationship, you know," he observed.

"Dustin."

"What?"

She curled her arms around him and held him close. Her heart was beating atrociously again. She had almost died. She had almost lost all of this and more. She held him tenaciously, as she had held on to life. And she kissed him, with the fire searing them both.

The door burst open a second time. The inspector was there, with Jon and Jasmine and Alexi. The inspector glanced their way briefly, then hurried to Geoffrey where he lay crumpled on the floor. Jasmine began to weep, raced to Carly and Dustin and kissed them both.

"Carly, you're all right! Oh, God!"

Moments passed in pure emotion. Carly held tight to her blanket and kissed them all—even LaRue. She apologized to Alexi, who sheepishly told her that he had just been trying to explain his relationship with Tanya.

"You did love her, Alexi," Carly murmured.

"She didn't love me. But yes, I loved her, and it hurts, and I will miss her, whether she used me or not."

Jon placed a hand on his shoulder. The inspector cleared his throat. "Messieurs Vadim, I will have full explanations on this, and I will have your utmost cooperation."

"Yes, sir, I promise," Dustin said. Jon drew himself up regally, ready with noble disdain. Then Dustin grinned, ignoring them both as he stared at Carly. "Yes, sir, but not just yet. I'm taking Carly out of here."

"In the morning, then," the inspector said gruffly.

"Oh, no, it will have to be later." Dustin's eyes, amber and gold and as warm as the fire, remained fixed on her. He lifted her into his arms, sweeping the modest covering of the blanket along with her. "I'm taking her to Paris tomorrow. And I'm going to marry her as quickly as I can. She's dangerous if you don't keep her under control, you see. I was really worried. If she marries me, she can't testify against me."

"What?" Carly gasped.

Jasmine started to laugh, but Carly barely heard her. Her gaze was fixed on Dustin's as he carried her outside.

Miraculously, the mist was lifting.

"You will marry me, won't you?" he asked.

"Cocky, aren't you? And I never testified against you. Even when I was afraid I defended you," she retorted.

"Oh, yeah, sure!" he scoffed.

"I did!"

"All right. I forgive you."

"You forgive me?"

"Well, I will if you marry me. What do you say?"

Carly pretended to ponder the question, but not for very long. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Definitely."

He stared down at her tenderly. He was about to kiss her, when Carly gasped suddenly in disbelief.

It was the wolf. The large, silver-gray wolf of her dreams. It was crashing through the trees, through the remaining mist, straight toward them. And just as she had been terrified that the animal meant to consume her that first night, she quivered with fear now, for she had everything in the world to live for.

"Dustin! The wolf—"

The animal charged at him. Dustin swore and lifted Carly higher. "Vixen, damn you, get down!"

"Vixen!" Carly demanded in her turn.

The wolf, as obedient as a puppy, fell at Dustin's feet, rolling and fawning. Carly stared at him. "Vixen?" she repeated.

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, she's a pet, you see."

"She's your pet?"

"Jon's pet. Well, all right, we both found her as a pup. We were about fourteen, I guess."

"She's a pet!" Carly was enraged. "You made me think you dared a savage beast and saved my life—and she's a pet?"

"Don't worry. You'll grow to love her." With a grin he started walking toward Satan. Carly slowly started to smile again as he set her upon the magnificent horse. "You owe me a lot of explanations, as well as the inspector!"

He mounted behind her and nuzzled her neck. "We have a lifetime for that," he murmured. "A lifetime."

He nudged Satan in the ribs. The horse took off as if he were flying. Dustin swept her away, safe from the mist.

It could never have happened in Manhattan, she thought. Not this...

Magic.

This rough magic. Enchantment, Carly realized, relaxing against him. Enough to last a lifetime. And they would have a lifetime together, she knew. Of learning, exploring...explaining.

As soon as they finished with the inspector, of course.

But before that...there would be a wedding. And a honeymoon. And more...

"Magic," he said aloud.

"Yes," she whispered.

And Satan carried them onward, while a silver wolf ran along beside them.