"What happened?" Kelly stared up at Edward, wondering why she felt so strange. She glanced around. Even though the room was dark, she could see clearly. "You did it, didn't you?"

He nodded. Had she changed her mind? Would she hate him now?

She sat up, seeing the room through vampire eyes. He felt the excitement thrumming through her.

"I'll never get any older!" She held out her hands and looked at them as if seeing them for the first time, and in a way, she was. She was a vampire now.

Rising, she ran to the back door and darted out into the yard. She gazed up at the moon, and it was beautiful as never before. She looked at a nearby tree, and she knew it was alive, could almost hear it breathing.

"Eddie, this is wonderful! And we'll be together forever!" She twirled around, caught up in the newness, the wonder.

He watched her from the doorway, waiting for the inevitable.

The pain hit her suddenly and without warning. Terrified, she doubled over, her arms wrapped around her waist. "What's happening?"

"You're dying."

"What do you mean?" She lifted her head and stared at him, her eyes wide with panic. "What have you done to me?"

He glided across the yard. "It happens to us all." Taking hold of her arm, he eased her gently down on the ground.

"I'm afraid!" Her hands clawed at his arm, her nails drawing blood. "Eddie, help me!"

"Don't be afraid. It is only mortal death, and soon over."

He had never seen it happen, though of course, he had experienced it. It had happened only moments after he left Chiavari's house the night Chiavari had brought him across. He had studied vampires all his life, so he had known what was happening; but it hadn't made it easier or any less terrifying, and so he held Kelly's hand while her body emptied itself of mortal fluids and his vampire blood infused her system.

When the pain had passed, he took her into the house, bathed her tenderly, then carried her down to his room in the cellar. He tucked her into bed, sat beside her until she fell asleep. When she woke tomorrow night, she would be wholly vampire. He only hoped she would not regret it.

He felt Khira's malevolent presence prowling in the yard, knew a swift moment of relief that he had never invited her into the house. He could feel her power pounding at him, demanding entrance.

"No way," he muttered, and with preternatural speed, he was up the stairs and out of the house.

She was waiting for him on the front lawn. "Looking for me?" he asked coolly.

"Why have you done this?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "She wanted it."

"I will have no more vampires in my territory." Her eyes flamed with the heat of her anger.

"You will not touch her," he said flatly.

Khira glared at him. "Need I remind you that you are fortunate to still be alive yourself, Edward?"

"Perhaps. Your threats grow tiresome, Khira."

"Do you doubt my ability to carry them out?" she demanded. But he detected a flicker of unease beneath her anger.

"You have killed three vampires since you have been here," he said. "But they were not me." Wrapped in the cloak of his own power, he met her gaze impassively. "I am not weak like LaSalle. You said yourself that I am strong. But even you do not know how strong."

"Why... Edward. Would you bare your fangs to me?'' Her eyes were blue again, almost teasing. "To defend that... that..." Her voice trailed off, as though words failed her.

"She is mine," he said. "Mine. And none of your concern."

"I told you. I do not like to share my territory."

"L.A. is a pretty big town. I think there's room enough."

"It is not a matter of room, Edward."

"Damn-it, leave her alone! Leave me alone!"

Fury blossomed in her eyes. He gasped and reeled backward as pain engulfed him, white-hot painthat exploded through every nerve, every muscle, every cell of his body. Trembling violently, hardly able to breathe, he wrapped his arms around his chest, then dropped to his knees as the agony increased. Head bowed, he closed his eyes, praying for an end to the awful agony that threaded through him. On fire. His blood was on fire, scorching his veins. He rocked back and forth, choking back the cry that rose in his throat. Pain. He had never known such excruciating pain, not even when he went out to meet the dawn.

Then, on the heels of the pain came rage. Rage such as he had never known. He was on his feet again, facing her. Forcing her power back upon itself. Her lips drew thin. He saw her blink, surprised. And then that trace of uncertainty again. He did not attempt to press, for fear of triggering another attack.

They stared at each other, the silence stretching between them.

Khira relaxed ever so slightly. "There is powerful blood in your veins, Ramsey," she admitted grudgingly. "Mine. Alexi's. And Grigori's. And something more... that rage of yours. That fury. Generations of Ramseys and their dirty calling... all concentrated in you. I could kill you now - oh, don't think I couldn't - but..." She paused, and he read the uncertainty in her eyes.

He said nothing, only watched her through unblinking eyes, waiting, wondering if it was all a bluff.

"It would cost me," she said. "Drain me." She regarded him for several moments. "Be careful of your tongue in the future," she warned, but he saw the doubt in her eyes, heard the confusion in her voice. "Keep your little fledgling. She is of no consequence. Surely not worth fighting over." She smiled coolly. "Not at this moment, anyway. Only be careful she does not cross my path."

He nodded, but she was already gone.

After going down to the cellar to make sure Kelly was resting comfortably, he left the house again, his mind reeling. He had met Khira's power and she had backed down! It was a heady feeling, diluted only by his weakened state; he had given a lot of blood to Kelly. Had he been at full strength, would he have been able to deflect Khira's power completely?

He prowled the dark streets hungrily. A sudden awareness, like a cold wind blowing over his skin, warned him he was no longer alone.

"Chiavari."

The vampire materialized out of the shadows. "Ramsey." The accusation was clear in his voice. "Why?"

"She wanted it."

"Do you know what you've done? Khira..."

"Has already visited me."

Chiavari lifted one brow. "Indeed?"

"Yes. I... thank you."

"For what?"

"You may have saved my life tonight. Khira attempted to exercise her power over me a short time ago. It hurt! Hurt like the very devil, but I remembered what you said about my having powerful blood. It must be true. She backed down. She said she could take me, but it would weaken her."

"Did she indeed?" Chiavari waved his thanks aside. "The test of your strength is good news."

"Good news? She almost..."

"Good news indeed," Chiavari said. "It means that, combined, we have the power to face her, if it comes to that. But you should not have brought Kelly across, not now. It complicates things. Weakens you, makes you vulnerable."

"Is that why you haven't brought Marisa across?"

"What I do is none of your business."

"But you want to."

Without conscious thought, they fell into step side by side and walked down the street.

"Yes, and no," Chiavari answered.

"I don't understand."

"We stay the same as we are when we change," Chiavari explained. "And yet we don't. Each individual reacts differently to the Dark Gift. Some embrace it." His gaze moved over Ramsey. "Some reject it and die. Some become drunk with power. Some, like Kristov, revel in the darkness of it."

"Did it change you?"

"For a time."

"And what of Khira?"

"Khira is a law unto herself. She always has been."

"So you said before."

"Do you doubt me?"

"No." Ramsey shuddered, remembering the pain she had inflicted on him with no more than a thought. He had managed to withstand her this time, but what of next time? He had surprised her tonight. If there was another confrontation, she would be ready for him.

Chiavari paused. Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. "There," he said.

Ramsey followed Chiavari's gaze and saw a couple standing in a parking lot, laughing.

"Blood for two," Ramsey muttered with a wry grin. "A girl for me, and a boy for you."

They were crossing the street when a voice called out, "Hey, Ed!"

Ramsey swore under his breath as Tom Duncan came hurrying toward him.

"Who is this?" Chiavari asked.

"He's a hunter," Ramsey replied, pasting a smile on his face. "And an old friend."

Duncan slapped Ramsey on the shoulder. "How was the vacation?"

"What? Oh, it was good."

Duncan nodded, but his attention was on Ramsey's companion. "Have we met?"

Chiavari shook his head. "Enjoy your friend, Ramsey," he said. "I'm going home."

"Hey, now, don't run off," Duncan said. "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it."

Ramsey's gaze darted from Duncan to Chiavari and back again. The tension between the two of them was almost palpable.

"Any reason not to?" Duncan asked.

Ramsey groaned inwardly. Duncan might be built like a pro fullback, but he was no match for a vampire like Chiavari, not after dark.

"So, Tom,'' Ramsey said, hoping to distract his friend, "are you on the hunt?"

"As always," Duncan replied, his gaze steady on Chiavari.

Ramsey swore softly. His hunger, his need to replenish the blood he had given Kelly, cried out for the warm, sweet relief that Tom's presence denied him. But he had to defuse this situation.

"Let's go get a drink, Tom." Ramsey put his arm around Duncan's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "What do you say?"

"Sure, sure." Tom Duncan fixed Chiavari with a hard look. "I have a feeling we'll meet again."

Chiavari nodded. "Any time."

Ramsey practically dragged Duncan down the street. "Are you crazy?"

"We should have taken him."

"You are crazy! Do you know who he is?"

Duncan nodded. "Grigori Chiavari." He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "Why isn't he dead?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know he was involved in the Kristov mess. Why didn't you take Chiavari out at the same time?"

"He saved my life."

Duncan's eyes widened in disbelief. "I don't believe you. Why the hell would a vampire save your life?"

"It's a long story."

"Then you'd better start now." Duncan made an abrupt stop in front of a local bar. "I need a drink. Come on, you can tell me all about it over a glass of whiskey."

Ramsey followed Duncan into the bar. They found a table in a dark corner and sat down. Duncan ordered a whiskey, Ramsey a glass of wine.

Sitting back in the seat, Ramsey related, as briefly as possible, everything that had happened with Chiavari and Kristov, save for the last, damning part of the story.

"Grigori could have killed me, but he didn't." Ramsey took a sip from his wine glass. "That's it."

Duncan leaned back in the booth, his expression thoughtful. "Why do I have the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Duncan swirled the liquor in his glass. "Well, for one thing, you look different."

Ramsey tensed. "I do?"

"Yeah. I can't quite put my finger on it..." He swore softly. "It's your clothes! That's it!" Duncan laughed. "You're not wearing brown!"

Ramsey muttered an oath. "You're too funny for me. I'm going home."

"But it's more than that," Duncan said, suddenly serious. He leaned forward, his gaze intent on Ramsey's face. "You look - I don't know - younger. What'd you do on that vacation of yours, anyway, get a face-lift?"

"Yeah," Ramsey said, laughing it off. "I had liposuction on my hips, too." Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a ten-dollar bill and dropped it on the table. "Have another drink on me. I'm going home."

Duncan tossed down his drink. "Meet me here tomorrow. We'll go hunting."

"Never on Sunday," Ramsey muttered, and left the table.

He felt Duncan's gaze follow him as he made his way to the door. He knew his old friend would not rest until he had uncovered his secret. And when he did, one of them would die.